#including in ways that become offensive

[gingerswagfreckles]

Because a lot of people are still not getting it: Wherever you draw the line between "good Atheism" or "bad Atheism," I PROMISE you, there are Jewish people who exist beyond it. There are people from all religious backgrounds that exist beyond it.

[arolesbianism]

Beginners guide to my Jackie and Olivia universe thoughts except the handwriting might be kinda unreadable so idk figure it out

[rapdogmon]

You've always thought the hills you've passed on your way to work looked a little bit like the vertebrae of a human spine, lightly pressing against the Earth's skin. Sometimes, usually near dusk as the sky grows dim and the sun begins to set, you think you see them shift though you're never certain.

Your 4th grade teacher told you those hills used to be mountains. Taller that Mount Everest. You're not quite certain you believe her. You think about a massive creature with a rippling spine of mountains rising from the earth. So massive it would turn the days to permanent nights not just for your state but four states over.

You remember a time when your grandmother told stories about those who went missing between the mounds. She says it was spirits of the past and you choose to believe that though something in your gut tells you it was the earth, hungry and waiting.

Geological horror. You find a geode and crack it open and the crystal lining its walls is human blood that can't be genetically matched to anyone. You find a human skeleton but every one of the bones is made from rock, a rock that you know can't be whittled into those shapes. You find layers of clay and loam that sport ancient fossils at the top and the still-rotting corpses of modern animals at the bottom.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Actually, I think this does link in with a wider conversation that I have been thinking for a while Tumblr maybe needs to hear.

There's a common meme on this site now that no one here has any reading comprehension skills. The best one is, of course, the original "No offense but reading comprehension on this site is piss poor/How dare you say we piss on the poor" post, which gave rise to the nickname "pissing-on-the-poor website". There's also the "I like pancakes/How dare you say waffles are terrible" one. Both of these are great, because they're silly jokey ways to show two closely related phenomena that are probably the commonest ways to fail a reading comprehension check.

The first is someone reading certain catchphrases or buzzwords in the post, and based on their own biases or prior experiences or whatever else, their brain simply fills in what it reckons the poster is saying on the topic. Instead of reading the rest of the sentence and digesting it, the reader then just uses their assumption as the interpretation, and reacts to that.

The second is closely related, because it also uses biases and prior experiences to to interpret the post, but rather than ignoring what the OP is actually saying, it instead performs a series of gymnastic leaps to construct a whole new assertion on the OP's behalf that simply isn't there.

There's also a third, of course; that one is people being so eager to feel smug and superior over someone they perceive as Bad that they wilfully assume the OP is stupid or being serious when they're actually joking. And if the reader hadn't been so blinded by their desire to get to look down on someone, they'd have seen the very obvious tells, sometimes even including sentences like "Obviously this is a joke." (I think we have all seen examples of these. Also, in a bid to avoid as many reading comprehension fails here as possible, this does not include misunderstandings borne entirely of neurodiverse struggles to parse intentions; but, neurodiverse people are just as likely as neurotypicals to have ego play a part in their misinterpretation of others, and that is what this point is about.)

And the thing is... actually, we are all capable of any of these. I imagine a sizable chunk of people reading until this point were probably thinking "Lol, yeah, people are so stupid," but na, nage, I'm not having that. Literally everyone does these sometimes. And it becomes a particular risk when the topic under discussion is something that might brush against an issue that is a pressure point for you, like a social justice talking point that you are forever having to argue with internet strangers about, for example. Your brain holds schemas! And sometimes it likes to pattern match things before it deigns to tell you about its findings! And that can hit you right in the emotions, which if they are strong enough, really can shut down all rational thought.

But. This brings me to the real point of the post.

Because the thing is, we have all saddled up and gone to war under these conditions, or at the very least been strongly tempted to. And a vital skill that literally everyone has to learn, sooner or later, is:

Before you hit 'reply', double check the post to make sure you fucking understood it.

And that does not mean "simply re-read, confirm your bias, carry on." It means, "Is it possible to read this post from the point of view of someone who doesn't intend it the way I've taken it? If I put myself in the shoes of an innocent, could they still have written these words? Is there another interpretation for these phrases?"

And you do have to do this step. You simply do have to. Because if your desire is to 'clap back' and call someone a gargling knobskin made of garbage, fuck me sideways but you must see that it is imperative that you check if they actually deserve that kind of treatment first. You cannot spend your time claiming that we must all choose to be kind and then not bother doing your due diligence before screaming a person's various and assorted bigotries at them. If you misread it, and they were innocent - you are the raging aggressive cunt in this situation.

It does not matter that you reacted from an emotional place of normally having to defend yourself either, by the way. Sure, that makes the quality of your human soul better than that of the average Redditor who just enjoys anonymously hurting people, I guess? But it's also irrelevant. If you messaged someone and called them a misogynist because you performed several mental somersaults and landed on your own sore spot when they meant no such thing, you are the attacker. You owe them an apology. And yeah, sure, you can explain your over-reaction as the product of your normal experiences if you like, but that is only an explanation, not an excuse. You are still the asshole here. You still need to apologise and mean it.

And you could have avoided it if you'd done that due diligence, as you should have. If you're going to take a swing, make sure it's the right target. This was once described to me as donkey people - they don't think, they just kick. This is admittedly a little unkind to donkeys, who always do their due diligence, but I feel it's an apt metaphor.

TL;DR: If you feel moved to angrily reply to something, first make sure you've interpreted it right. Don't be a donkey person. And if you ask for clarification, people are innocent until proven guilty. Ask nicely. If they are a bigot, you can then smelt them for parts.

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Frowny Face

Summary: Nobara and Itadori try to figure out the similarities between Megumi and his son. They manage to find that the infamous Zen'in frowny face is a dominant trait.

Tags: Megumi x F!Reader, Humor, Fluff, SFW, 1200 wc

Notes: I had this drafted for weeks. After seeing the epilogue and the grandkids, wish I had posted sooner, I felt there wasn't a more appropriate time for this. Happy belated-birthday 'gumi.

“No, no, look again, he definitely has his eyes,” Itadori points out.

Nobara lowers her face towards the baby currently blinking at the two of them from the comfort of his plush crib. Megumi stands off to the side, arms loosely crossed over his chest and an increasingly spreading scowl as his two friends, if he could call them that right now, poke and prod at his kid.

Nobara was the first one to point out how much his child was growing and starting to resemble his parents before noticing that his new emerging features leaned heavily to your side of the family, leading to this search to pick out their similarities.

“I’m not seeing it,” Nobara disagrees, failing to find the hint of dark blue that Itadori swears he can see in the baby’s right pupil. To her, all she can see is black all the way through both eyes, like the majority of the Zen’in clan geezers from those centuries old family books she helped Maki trash; unfortunately, this didn't include Megumi so they couldn't even count it. With a hand on her hip, she turns to Megumi. “Sheesh, he doesn’t resemble you at all. The misses really said copy and paste, huh?”  

Megumi huffs, about three seconds away from shooing them into the kitchen where you’re making dinner. That’s until Itadori pipes up, “Sure he does.” And for a second, Megumi thinks they’ll finally drop this silly discussion. “He has the same grumpy face his dad does.”

Megumi sighs. He should’ve known better.

“Now that you mention it,” Kugisaki can barely contain her laughter as she reaches into the crib and gently pinches a chubby cheek. Your son makes no expression at her playful squeeze or poke to his belly. His tiny legs kick the same way any other baby would when tickled, but the flat line on his face refuses to budge. “This is the least smiley baby I’ve ever seen,” she concludes while Itadori nods in agreement as he goes in to tickle the baby’s foot – just to make sure.

Megumi knows the two idiots don’t mean any harm by it, being the person to receive the brunt end of their jokes and observations over his life, the kind that can only be made out of innocent obliviousness and overconfidence, but he can’t help but feel more defensive when it’s his kid.

“Do you two have nothing better to do than to shame a baby?” he gripes. “It’s late, go home.”

“Oh, lighten up, we were only teasing. He’s adorable,” Nobara dismisses as she notes how much bigger her future-partner-in-crime has become over the past few months. Looking back on it, she can’t recall any time she’s heard him laugh or much of anything. Sure, she’s seen him get fussy while babysitting, but she’s rarely heard him cry. “But you have to admit he isn’t very expressive…for a baby,” she mentions with a hint of concern, concern that isn’t needed from Megumi’s point of view.

“Maybe you two just aren’t funny,” he says, watching the way Itadori attempts to get his son to laugh by making silly faces; it results in little more than a fist full of pink hair getting tugged.

“I’m being serious. I mean…” she tilts her head, trying to word it delicately. “Does he smile at all?”

Megumi nods. “He smiles.”

“Does he?” Itadori presses, craning his neck as he struggles to free his hair.

“He does,” Megumi repeats, his eyes softening at the memory of that innocent and joyful giggle he first heard like an unimaginable dream come true. “It’s just when you’re not around.”

Nobara rubs at the back of her neck apologetically. “Sorry. I didn’t mean any offense by it. He’s a good baby,” she compliments before moving to help free Itadori’s hair from his iron-like grip. “And strong too,” she adds, looks at him, and clicks her tongue when she once again fails to find the bit of blue Itadori mentioned earlier, but it provides an opportunity to cut through the awkwardness they unwittingly created. She fakes a sigh. “Unlike your genes. I don’t think they even had a battle plan.”

“Very funny,” he puffs out between their chuckles then he hears another voice coming from the direction of the kitchen.

“That’s not true,” you say as you pad into the room with a milk bottle in hand, the grin on your face trembling as you try not to laugh with them. “They have a lot in common.” You begin to list off on your fingers. “They both like the same fruit and animals, he really likes books when you read to him, and do you think his hair maintains itself?”

Nobara breathes out an "oh" at your explanation. “So, he gets mom's good looks to balance out dad's aloof personality? Makes sense."

Your resistance breaks as you let out a giggle, ignoring the pout on your husband’s face. “Are you guys staying for dinner?”

“No, we should really get going,” Nobara states with a small yawn. “Mission reports won’t write themselves.”

You nod, handing Megumi the bottle of milk as you walk the others to the door and wave them off.

“Have a good night,” Itadori calls out while Nobara makes you promise to phone her tomorrow and to come hang out if you’re free.

Locking the door, you walk back in and head towards the crib.

“You really shouldn’t entertain them when they get like that," Megumi reminds you.

“You know they only do it to mess with you. It’s how they show they like you.”

“You mean they’re idiots.”

“Yet you open the door right up every time they come over.”

Megumi gives you a doubtful look. “Not by choice. It’d be like trying to stop a rampaging bull from barging in,” Megumi states, and you let out an amused huff. 

No matter how much he complains and comments that they haven't changed one bit after leaving school, he enjoys them. You remember how excited he seemed when Itadori called to ask if it was okay to pop in since they were nearby. Well, excited in that he immediately started to straighten out the house even though he had already cleaned earlier that morning. It's cute little quirks that often gives him away and the ones that make you like him even more.

“If it makes you feel better, I think you have a great personality and good looks,” you compliment with a brush of your hand over his hair. You look down at your son, who still seem unmoved by all the events of the evening. It makes you laugh because Nobara and Itadori were right. Your son does have Megumi’s ever-dull facial expression. 

“And both my boys have the cutest frowny faces,” you say, holding up your son to your face to nuzzle his nose. As you pull him away, your eyes brighten at the wide smile that flashes on his face followed by a warm giggle. “Hello to you too,” you coo and cuddle him again, causing another fit of giggles to fill the room, and the sound resonates in his chest and makes him forget any problems that arose on the way to getting to this point in his life.

“You forgot to tell them one thing,” Megumi says, coming forward to kiss your temple. As he told the others, his son does smile, and Megumi does too. “They both smile when they see mommy.”

[sleepy-grav3]

Amity Park hates the Justice League but loves Red Hood and sometimes other heroes

A/n: I got this random idea so here it is. Oh, and this is good reveal AU ok?

-------

Due to the Justice League mocking them and ignoring their villain problems that were also publicly interdimensional problems, everyone hates the JL. It got worst with the GIW coming in, who blatantly went against the meta-laws (which included aliens, demons and so much more that weren't human from the beginning). They started to think the Justice League supported them.

In the Infinite Realms, however, there's a revenant that many adored and others respected. He did not hold back against criminals. Criminals that would rape, kill, traffic, sell drugs, and more to people. He especially didn't like when they brought kids into this. He'd avenge people the way they should've been: by promising that their abuser/killer/whatever wouldn't be able to do it again. And in the place they lived in, the only way for that to be possible was by major injury, heavy social outcasting, and/or death. Most prefer the 3rd.

And after how long the Amitians dealt with the attacks which eventually came to a slow once or twice a week type thing, they started opening their minds to the idea of coexistence. Well, further than they had. So when people started to cross over and start making their small haunts in their side of the veil, the Amitian's began to become aware of the popular hero Red Hood. He was part of the undead community, which was trustworthy in everyone's books.

So Amity Park started making merch. Most of it was for Team Phantom, but there was plenty for Red Hood as well. There were other heroes on the side, like for Superboy 1 (who they renamed to Supernova due to their hatred for Superman for 2 reasons, the obvious and that he rejected a mirror-born), and Raven (the half demon).

And with this coexistence, Team Phantom had noticed the positive feedback about killing in the name of vengeance. So they went on the offensive, and after a good year of that, the GIW lost funding for producing no results and just taking up resources. The acts were still there, but nobody enacted them in Amity, and nobody actually knew or believed them outside of the haunted city.

Then the Justice League find out about the hero group there due to tracking merchandise after they started to sell outside of the city. Superman was the guy everyone liked, so he was sent over. He immediately got thrown out and was now questioning who the heck Supernova was and when he rejected him.

Flash? Outcast. Everyone ignored and walked away from him. they had the police, who never did anything or even had to anymore, kick him out.

Green Lanter? Oh the poor guy. He had his ring taken away and thrown out of the city somehow. It took hours to find it.

Wonder Woman, they had to be ok with her. Not at first, but once Phantom had a talk with her and people learned that they were cousins through Clockwork (Kronos) and Pandora, they were ok. ish. Tolerated was the best word and she got the info back to the league.

The batfamily took a trip there, dragging Red Hood along somehow. And right when Red Hood was noticed, a crowd began to form as everyone practically worshipped him. There were many victims he had avenged and an Ancient (Lady Gotham) came and gave him the gifts she couldn't without scaring the guy.

At one point, the poor guy even cried.

[starlightbright]

RIP Ricky September they had to kill you because it would have been unrealistic to not keep you on as a companion 😔

EDIT: I've noticed some people taking this post really seriously, so to clarify: no, I don't think Ricky was literally a perfect uwu anti-racist angel. This post was mostly a joke about how he was running around doing companion shit and, most of all, how the Doctor and Ruby both thought he was a hottie. My actual feelings about Ricky are that he's a complacent white liberal. Character reading under the cut if you want an explanation.

I do think the implications of making him unplugged from the racism bubble, paralleling him with the Doctor (man who shows up with knowledge about history and technology and guides the other character through dangerous situations), and directly contrasting to Lindy (including being open to trust the Doctor without second guessing him the same way Lindy and all her friends did) are supposed to be that he wasn't like the other people there and is thus LESS racist since racism comes to be what defines their society. I've seen some people basically ask "then why'd he move to White People City?" but within the text it's actually Rich People City; the reason everyone there is white is because systemic racism financially benefits white people. Making him LESS racist is NECESSARY to giving his death any meaning - because if he definitively would have called the Doctor a slur and walked away, then the Dot killing him quickly was a mercy kill because we KNOW all the other residents are going to die in the wilderness.

THAT SAID, I also don't think he was a progressive anti-racist. Do you know what Ricky actually is? A white liberal. He might disengage from the White People Bubble, he might not be outwardly cruel to black people, but he's still surrounded by people who are and benefits from a system where ONLY WHITE PEOPLE ARE RICH. The culture might be fucked, but he still benefits from it without doing anything to actually fight it. It's like how many a white liberal will read about the history of slavery, feel sad about it, and then be uncritical of prison labor. If Ricky was meant to be progressive, there'd be something, ANYTHING in the text about how he's tried to educate his followers on their society's problems, but it got deleted. He is COMPLACENT.

That's sort of the point, I'd say, since the theme is about how priviledged white people put themselves in a bubble of people like them and choose to look away from what's wrong in society. Those people become complacent at best with no effort to actually speak out or change things. Hell, even within the text, Ricky SEES a problem others are looking away from (the slugs eating people), but only tries to fight it by making a TikTok about it and becomes complacent again, accepting that people are just going to be eaten.

So tl;dr: no, I don't think the white liberal kid literally would have been a companion. I think if you stuck him in the Ood episode, for example, he'd have shaken his head when he found out about their plight, maybe made a TikTok with sad music playing over footage of them, and then said "welp, nothing else can be done." I think it's FUNNY to imagine another companion that the Doctor and Ruby both are giggling like schoolgirls over.

Also I kind of thought he was ugly - no offense to the actor but the makeup they had him in combined with the lighting and closeups made him look way older than 27 so he gave off this uncanny "how do you do fellow kids?" look.

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

⚔️ Task Force 141 - NFL AU 🏈

by me (sleepyconfusedpotato) and @alypink ! This AU will include some Original Characters made by us both!

---

New Hampshire 141s, a new rising american football team whose players dominantly came from the United Kingdom, is ready to face the NFL season!

As the previous Head Coach, Herschel von Shepherd got fired by the General Manager MacMillan, John Price (who has roots in rugby) got chosen by MacMillan to bring the team to victory. Let us see which players caught Coach Price's eyes!

John Price (HC)

John Price was born in Liverpool, England, but moved to America when he was still very young due to his father being deployed from the military to an American base. Although his father retired a couple of years later, they decided to stay in America. He grew up loving sports as a child but American football always piqued his interest more than any other sports. He played safety in middle and high school, but in his junior year, he had Meniscal tears that prevented him from ever playing again. John was heavily depressed after his injury, one day one of his close friends, Nikolai, who was also one of his fellow teammates on his high school team, told him to cheer him up to go watch the team play or to attend the training camps, John agreed and started assisting to the games and eventually started to think about becoming a head coach. He was recommended by his former high school head coach to take the job as a defensive coordinator for the New Hampshire Wildcats, a college football team. His performance and playbook were impressive, leading the Wildcats to reach a bowl and winning it twice. He proved to be fit and ready for a professional football team in the NFL and was hired as a defensive coordinator by the New Hampshire 141’s, by the HC at that time, Herschel von Shepherd. His first two seasons were disastrous as there was friction between the players and their head coach, most of the players disagreed with Shepherd's decisions and playmaking. To add to that, he seemed to never care about the player's input or needs. Although in those seasons they held a record of 4 wins and 12 losses, the General Manager of the team noticed his defense was the best in the league for both points and yards, and also noticed that a good portion of his defense players were selected on the all-pro team of those two seasons. After the owner and GM fired Shepherd as a Head Coach, John took his place.  In his first seasons with the 141s, he restructured the team and went to playoffs and one NFC championship. As he wanted to improve his team, he started attending college football games, he attended once a college game in which he met the offensive coordinator at the time, Aly, and after the game he met her to ask about some players he was interested in on her actual team, for QB and WR positions, they became acquaintance since that day and kept communication for some time, as she sent some prospects his way. She also requested his help every now and then, making him attend her games and inviting her over to watch the 141s too. After spending time together and sharing the same interests and love for football, they started to date but kept it low as two months later, John hired her as his new offensive coordinator.

#26 Kyle Garrick (WR)

the most responsible and reliable player of the team. Kyle’s dad was an ex-WR and a former head coach out of a college football team. His father is a very hardworking man and disciplines his son like a football player, and with that, comes a great expectation for Kyle since his high school years. Kyle is extremely reliable, responsible, and respected on and off the field. He is HC John Price's favorite due to his work ethic. Kyle believes in having discipline in everything he does to be one of the best. He keeps a picture of his girlfriend, Eleanor Graham (Ladybug) everywhere, especially in his locker room as he says she brings him good luck for catching the hail mary’s from Alex.  Kyle and Alex met in Baylor University, where they played together and won many games, including several bowl games. They became best friends in and out of the football field, supporting each other infinitely. “You've got friends nearby.” On Alex’s quote, “I can throw the ball like ‘fuck it, he’s over there somewhere’ and Kyle would magically appear and catch the ball. He’s always at the right place.”

One day during practice Alex was throwing the ball too far to the left, which headed straight towards her head. On instinct and in an attempt to catch the ball, Kyle collided with Eleanor, which bruised her arms. Instead of being upset like how Kyle would expect her to react, she laughed loudly at him, saying that she chose to sit there. She knew the hazard of studying near a football field. Even though Eleanor said she can take care of her bruises, Kyle insisted on nursing her. (Alex SMILED ear to ear). They both met from time to time. Every practice, Kyle always looks for Eleanor on the side of the field. Eleanor’s laid-back personality often bothers Kyle as she's a damn med school student, but through her, Kyle learns how to slow down and live in the moment. Love bloomed between them and they became a couple midway through freshman year. 

When Kyle was drafted to the NFL to be with Alex for New Hampshire 141s, Eleanor was there with him when he received the call from HC Price. Though Eleanor has to stay in Texas to continue her studies, Eleanor travels to New Hampshire often to visit Kyle.

#31 Alex Keller (QB)

Alex is the quarterback of the 141s, second draft pick and first QB of his university. He is very skilled and hard-working, he is in love with water girl Farah Karim and aspires to be like Tom Brady. He and Kyle Garrick (WR) met in their first year of freshman in University and they played since their first year as the duo of QB and WR (Burrow and Chase vibes) and were drafted together in the NFL draft by the same team. Young duo but very effective especially during the regular season. Alex Keller met Farah Karim in his rookie season during training camp in his first year and has been infatuated with her. Since then, he has tried to score ASAP or reach 4th down so he can sit on the bench and talk with her. Whenever he can, he visits and picks her up from University and helps her out whenever he can in anything she would need.

#70 Simon Riley (TE)

Simon Riley used to be a rugby player in England. He joined the rugby team during his college days and met Price as one of his coaches, who trained and guided him to become one of the most dominant flankers in college rugby. Unfortunately, though he’s always dependable whenever he’s on the field, Simon was often riddled with injuries. His quiet personality didn’t help his case either, bearing the pain in his left leg in silence, until one day, he tore his ACL during an important game which cost the team their winning chances. Simon rested for a whole year to heal his knee. Together with his familial struggle, he contemplated quitting being an athlete. That was until Coach Price offered him a fresh start in the USA. As a flanker is equivalent to the Tight End position in American football, Price told him that he would be perfect for the role. Simon was adamant at first as he was still injured and how he’d be able to completely heal from this devastating injury. But when he said that in America they could find him a good physiotherapist to help him heal his knee, he reluctantly accepted the offer.  Simon got into the draft and was a first-round pick due to how much of a good player he was in rugby. On his first day on the team, he met the other players who got drafted, but the most important and the most fateful meeting was when he got introduced to Charlotte Le Jardin (nickname Jade to simplify her last name), a physiotherapist that Laswell had promised help him to heal his ACL and help him regain his top form. It was a rough road, but with every step he took, Jade was there to help him.  Now, every injury he has he doesn’t stay on the sidelines but goes inside the tent or the stadium so he can be checked by her. Whenever Jade’s out watching the game, he scores more than usual or gets distracted. He often carries the team, especially during the conference championship games. 

#71 Johnny MacTavish (RB)

Johnny MacTavish was born and raised in Scotland. After high school, he was offered an academic and sports scholarship to a prominent university in the USA. He began his football career when he was a freshman at University as a very talented runner, which elevated him as the starter RB on his fifth game. In his senior year he was  awarded the Heisman Trophy winner at college, but due to a shoulder injury, he missed being the top pick at the draft. He was later selected by the New Hampshire 141s and got put in as a starter as soon as he got drafted. He has good chemistry with his team but gets injured by overdoing himself or trying to tackle defensive players on the other team. He is also constantly with Jade for treatment and often misses important playoff games. Johnny is a very talented running back and that is why HC Price can’t get rid of him no matter how he misses practices and meetings and how his personal life affects his performance on the field. He always tries to take his friend Simon Riley to social gatherings and social media, but he completely shuts him down every time. That's different on the field though, as whenever Johnny's going to play a run, Simon will always be there in front of him to push the tacklers away, making way for Johnny to score a first down or a touch down. They're an unstoppable duo together. Johnny is very popular among female fans, making his jersey the one with the most sales every year. His dating story is pretty large and his games are always attended by the women he dates (which constantly changes).

some memes I made 😭

Here's the Hereford 141S' Logo and jersey design! The logo is heavily inspired by the Task Force 141's logo, so it's pretty much just a sporty twist of the logo!

More characters underneath the cut!

#11 Alejandro Vargas (MLB) and #22 Rodolfo Parra (OLB)

(Drawing to be posted!)

Alejandro and Rudy both moved to El Paso, Texas when they started high school at the age of 14 years old. They were avid football (soccer) players during their time in Mexico, but when they started High School they began to play football. Both Alejandro and Rodolfo played as Linebackers, Ale being MLB and Rodolfo being OLB. They did amazing in High School then they both received a scholarship to attend the university in Dallas, Texas. Both of them were later selected to do the NFL Pathway program, for both of them. Being together since their childhood years, high school and university they were a packaged deal and were both selected on the same team, same position on the NFL draft.  Alejandro is especially hyped when playing against Philip Graves, QB of the Dallas Shadows. They have had beef with each other on and off the field since they played against each other for the first time. Ale’s average sack during a game against Dallas is approximately 5 per game, he sometimes is way too harsh while tackling making him get a couple of flags whenever he blitzes and sacks. He’s often scolded by his friend Rudy, but he does not care as long as he can sack Graves.

Kate Laswell (Defensive Coordinator)

(Drawing to be posted!)

was raised in Virginia, USA. Both her parents and brothers loved football and so did she. Since elementary, she watched and never missed a game during weekends, she always had a fascination for the Chicago Bears and their ‘85 team. Her father told her about how that defense, without an extraordinary QB or offense made them win the superbowl and also made them the best defense of all time. After witnessing that season and that Superbowl, she fell in love with how the defense scheme in football works. Unfortunately professional football for women wasn’t an option, so she studied a lot to become a defensive coordinator. She studied day and night, memorizing the plays, analyzing games and creating new playbooks since she was young. She struggled a lot to have an opportunity since it was a male-dominated team. One of her childhood friends made it to the roster to become a defensive coordinator for the Colorado Buffaloes College Football Team, he was a good coach but not “impressive”. She supported him by attending his games but couldn't help but try to talk to him whenever she thought he could do better, often interrupting his play callings during his games to make him change the play, and it always worked. She and his friend attended a College Bowl, and met John Price at that game, the three of them watched the game and she started to tell both of them what adjustment she would do for both teams, and that piqued John’s interests as she was awfully right, he was impressed by how well she read offense’s routes and how she was able to change from a 3-4 or 4-3 to a hybrid defense. He decided to give her a chance and hired her as his new defensive coordinator for the 141’s and established a very good partnership and friendship with her ever since.

Farah Karim (Intern Physical Therapy Student - Watergirl)

(Drawing to be posted!)

Farah Karim is a university medical student who got an internship in his junior year of college to be the water girl and help around the New Hampshire  141s team. She comes from an immigrant family and is the pride and joy of her parents. She struggled so much in her younger years to pursue an education and get into a good college in the USA, she managed to get a scholarship due to her great school performance and was given the chance to work with a professional football team. She met Alex Keller after his rookie season and developed a close friendship with them that later turned into a romantic interest. She is grateful for his help and also supports him during games. Her classmates usually bug her by asking Farah to let them meet Alex or to set them up with him, which she dislikes very much.

(OC) Alyssa Martinez (Offensive Coordinator)

Aly was born in Mexico and moved to the USA thanks to a scholarship she received when she graduated from High School and moved to Texas to attend college. As soon as she graduated from Texas A&M holding a Bachelor of Science in Sport Management, she started working as an offensive coordinator at a local highschool. She then escalated to being an offensive coordinator for the College she attended. Aly managed to take the team to a College Bowl where she met 141s Head Coach John Price and became acquaintances after that game, they kept communication after that game, as Aly asked for suggestions for her playbook and she helped Price on suggesting him prospects for the upcoming draft selection and also players on free agency.  She was later hired by Price as his offensive coordinator and they began to have a low key romantic  relationship. She specializes in West Coast offense, having her team play the Air Coryell scheme. She suggested Price to draft Alex Keller as he was the perfect pocket passer that would fit their offense perfectly. She’s an avid Tom Brady fan.

(OC) Charlotte Le Jardin (Physical Therapist)

Originally from England, Jade was adopted by an American couple and moved with them to the United States at an early age. Her parents, Eli and Gracie, worked at Bravo Stadium, home of the 141s, and Jade became a constant presence on the sidelines. As time went by, the Bravo Stadium became her home. Jade started helping around the sidelines bringing water, towels, medical kits, and even helping out in the blue tent, all the while completing her college in biological science and doctor of physical therapy (DPT), and of course, licensing in Physical Therapy. When she got her license, her experience was already on par with the other physiotherapists since she had been jumping from senior to seniors, learning and practicing all she could. Kate Laswell who has been seeing Jade there since she was a teenager, hired Jade as one of the many physiotherapists for 141s, and with that came a fateful challenge: a newcomer Tight End with a torn ACL from his rugby days, who’s trying to get back to his top form in order to play in the NFL.

---

PHEW so there you have it! If you've read it this far, oh my LORD me and Aly love you so much! This is a pretty severe brainrot that we had, so hope you like it!

And let's enjoy the 2024 NFL Season 🏈🏈🏈

Hope you like it! 🥰🥰

[pascaloverx]

STARVE

Summary: You lost your husband some time ago while he served as a gladiator for Emperors Geta and Caracalla. General Acacius saved you from becoming an object of pleasure for the emperors. Since then, he has taken you as his mistress. In your free time, you became a disciple of Ravi, the healer, dedicating yourself to tending to wounded gladiators. All seemed to be in perfect harmony until Hanno, a gladiator driven by a thirst for vengeance, crossed your path.

Author's Note: And the gods said: Starve will be a multi-chapter fanfiction (I hope readers will follow it all the way through). Without further ado, the characters belong to Ridley Scott's Gladiator II universe, though there will be significant deviations from the film. Historical accuracy regarding life in the Roman Empire may not always be strictly observed, so I hope you can overlook that. Yes, this story revolves around a love triangle, but I will strive to satisfy everyone. This fanfiction will include adult content, violence, and potentially coarse language. Enjoy!

one three

TWO

Days, perhaps more, have passed. You and Hanno have been meeting in secret, seizing moments when there was no sign of General Acacius. All that you were permitted to know was that he was recovering in the company of his beloved wife, Lucilla, who made it clear she wanted no trace of your presence near her husband. The absence of Acacius weighed upon you more than you cared to admit. To be denied access to him felt akin to holding your breath for far too long. Yet, your clandestine encounters with Hanno had proven to be a welcome distraction, enough to keep your mind from lingering too deeply on what you could not change.

"Your gladiator is requesting your care, Y/N. And while we are on the subject, your encounters under the pretext of physical care will soon spark rumors," Ravi remarks as he steps into the chamber where he keeps his healing tools. "General Acacius will be the first to rage if he learns of your escapades. Should Emperors Geta and Caracalla grow suspicious, they may presume you are seeking a new lover. Not to mention the possibility of Macrinus taking offense at your growing closeness with his gladiator." You remain crouched, organizing a collection of herbs, a faint smile tugging at your lips. Hanno needs you—or rather, he has summoned you for yet another session of personal defense training.

"Ravi, believe me, I am well aware of the risks I take in daring to draw close to Hanno. Yet, I choose to take them—something no one of sound mind would do. General Acacius will not always be there to save me in the future. Lucilla has made her stance on my involvement with him abundantly clear. You do not see him here, concerned for me, do you? Precisely for that reason, I must think of the future." You speak as you search for the garment General Acacius once left at your disposal, should you ever need to fight.

"Since you are so determined to take such risks, be cautious. The guards will bring Hanno to be treated, and you will have only that time to practice—whatever it is you two practice," Ravi warns, much as he does each time you and Hanno meet, repeating the same cautions.

"I shall change my attire. If you would, dear friend, make Hanno comfortable until I return," you say, rising and moving toward the exit of the space where you and Ravi have tended to countless gladiators. "If all goes well today, I shall be one step closer to becoming more than a healer or a lover. I shall be the closest thing to a warrior I can aspire to be." Ravi nods, though a hint of worry lingers in his expression. He is the closest thing to an ally you have.

Time rushes by when one is on the brink of doing something forbidden, but you no longer concern yourself with the consequences. You are resolute to take control of your destiny, even if that control is but a sliver. Once dressed, you secure the dagger Acacius once gifted you in a hidden compartment of your attire. It is your small but vital secret, and you are steadily improving in its use.

With purpose in your stride, you make your way swiftly to where Hanno is awaiting you. When you arrive, his eyes brighten at the sight of you. "I see your delay is justified; you look prepared for battle. Let us see if you can land a blow," Hanno says, advancing toward you with a predatory gait meant to intimidate.

You meet his gaze with an unflinching smile. "Save your words for when we’re truly facing off, gladiator," you reply, following him to the familiar training grounds. It is the very arena where countless gladiators sharpen their skills, preparing for the moment they will stand before the emperors in the grand coliseum.

As soon as you step into the center of the training grounds, Hanno strikes without warning. His sword arcs toward you, narrowly missing as you instinctively step back. At the start of this combat practice, both of you wield swords, though your grasp on its use remains novice.

"Have you lost your sanity, Hanno? I wasn’t ready," you exclaim, fixing him with a glare of irritation. He advances on you again, silent and relentless, as if transformed into a stranger intent on attack. His gaze is unwavering, his resolve sharp.

"When you’re defending yourself, no one will wait for you to be ready, nor will they show you mercy. I want you to see me as you would see any foe who dares strike at you," Hanno declares, his sword slashing toward you again. You react, relying on your defensive maneuvers, retreating step by step until a strategy for counterattack begins to form in your mind.

"I’m not so sure; you seem to be enjoying this far too much," you retort, timing your movements before landing your first offensive strike. It catches him off guard, a flicker of surprise flashing across his face. The gap between you narrows, charged with the thrill of the fight and something deeper, more electrifying.

"I am enjoying it just as much as you enjoy patching me up with that brute strength of yours, healer. Now, focus," Hanno says, parrying your blow with unnerving precision. It’s like a dance—each movement perfectly countering the other. You attack; he defends. He strikes; you block. The rhythm between you is almost hypnotic, an eerie harmony born of tension and skill. But then, in a risky maneuver, Hanno manages to disarm you. Your sword flies from your grasp, landing far out of reach. Now standing mere steps apart, your eyes meet, both of you breathing heavily. It feels like the end for you, so why not take a chance?

With a surge of reckless determination, you rush toward him, channeling all your strength into an attempt to topple him. In your mind, it isn’t Hanno you’re facing—it’s an enemy, someone who would do you harm. Your unexpected move catches him off guard, and he falls to the ground. By sheer luck or fate, his sword slips from his grip as well. Now, you find yourself on top of him, both of you unarmed. The air between you is charged, your breaths mingling as silence envelops the space.

"It seems I have bested the great gladiator of Macrinus," you say, pressing your body lightly against his, a triumphant smile on your lips. Hanno smirks, his hands firmly gripping your waist as he swiftly reverses your positions, pinning you beneath him with effortless strength.

"Do not be deceived, healer," he murmurs, his piercing gaze locking with yours. But you are not so easily subdued. With a practiced movement, you draw the hidden dagger from your vestments and press it against his neck, the blade gleaming in the dim light. "Your presumption is touching, gladiator," you retort, your tone both teasing and sharp.

"What will you do next, healer?" Hanno asks, his breath warm against your face. The tension between you ignites instantly, palpable and undeniable. Before you can respond, he pulls your face closer to his, his lips capturing yours with a fervent intensity, as though he means to consume you entirely. At first, you almost resist Hanno’s kiss—it feels forbidden, a boundary you should not cross. Since your husband’s passing, Acacius was the only man you had kissed. Yet, as Hanno’s tongue ventures into your mouth, you find yourself surrendering, the kiss quickly becoming mutual.

In truth, Hanno is devouring you, but you refuse to let him take the upper hand so easily. You tug at his hair with force, pulling him closer, demanding his full attention. The kiss deepens, its intensity increasing to the point of no return. You want him to feel your hunger, to know that you wish to consume him just as much. For all its forbidden allure, you crave this moment—not because of duty or obligation, but because you want it. You want to know what it feels like to kiss someone you shouldn't, to rebel against every expectation tethering you. Your husband was not forced upon you, but your marriage had been a safeguard. Becoming Acacius’ lover served a similar purpose. But with Hanno, nothing feels safe. And perhaps that is why you let this moment unfold. There is no security here, no veil of protection. If you and Hanno are caught, Acacius could kill him, both the Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla could execute you, and the repercussions would be endless. Yet, none of that matters as your lips clash with his in this reckless, intoxicating dance of defiance.

The kiss is all-consuming, so intense that, for a moment, it steals your breath. You pause, pulling away to recover the air you desperately need. Yet Hanno seems unsatisfied, his eyes locked on you with an intensity that threatens to unravel your resolve.

His hand cups your face, fingers tracing over every detail as if committing you to memory. When his thumb brushes over your lips, he murmurs softly, "Your lips remind me of hers, my beautiful Arishat." Reality strikes like a sharp blade. He is with you, yet his mind lingers on his late wife. The weight of that truth is unbearable. As he leans forward, seeking your lips once more, you push him away, creating the distance you now desperately need.

"I will not be her replacement," you think, your resolve firm. "Nor Lucilla’s substitute." Avoiding his gaze, your shame and frustration burn within you. Rising quickly, you make your way toward your quarters. You and Ravi must always be prepared to tend to the wounded, so your rooms are close to where the gladiators train and where Ravi keeps his healing tools.

"Healer," Hanno calls out behind you, his voice firm yet laced with something softer. He follows after you, refusing to let the moment end so abruptly.

"Gladiator," you say, turning to face Hanno. Your body nearly collides with his, but you take a step back, halting the chase that had ensued. "Our training is done. I think it would be wise for us to part ways now, so as not to confuse..." You pause, searching for the right word to define what you might be confusing, only for Hanno to step abruptly closer, almost closing the space entirely.

"I am not confused about anything, healer," he says, his tone firm yet sincere. "I was lost momentarily in a memory, but I assure you, I knew exactly who I was kissing." He takes another step forward, his presence overwhelming.

"The act itself is already a problem, gladiator," you reply, struggling to maintain composure under his intense gaze. "We should not have kissed." Before he can respond, both of you hear footsteps approaching. In an instant, Hanno’s hand moves to your waist, pulling you behind him as though to shield you from whatever danger may come. Ravi appears, nearly running toward you, his face etched with worry.

"General Acacius has been seen heading this way," Ravi announces, his voice hurried and panicked. "The guards are murmuring that he’s coming to see you, Y/N. I suggest we get Hanno out of here immediately, and you prepare yourself to receive him."

The mention of Acacius sends a cold dread through you. Him encountering Hanno now would spell disaster. "Tell the guards who brought Hanno to retrieve him from here," you instruct, your voice steady despite the storm brewing inside. "Hanno and I will change out of these combat garments, and I’ll distract Acacius while the guards take Hanno back to his cell. Ravi, I’ll need your speed."

Without hesitation, Ravi nods and rushes off to summon the guards. You, in turn, push Hanno toward a secluded area where he can change out of his training gear. "Change in there and wait for me," you instruct firmly. Noticing the swords in his hands, you swiftly take them from him despite his protests. With no time to spare, you carry the weapons back to your quarters while Hanno remains in the area where you and Ravi usually tend to injured gladiators. In the quiet urgency of your chambers, you hastily change your attire, your mind racing with the precariousness of the situation. Hanno waits silently, the gravity of the moment clear to both of you.

"Do you fear what might happen should General Acacius discover your association with the gladiator who recently sought his life?" Hanno asks as you enter the room where he waits patiently to be taken back to his cell.

"I do not fear for myself," you reply, adjusting your tunic with calm precision. "I fear that if you and he meet, there will be unnecessary bloodshed. As I’ve told you before, if you wish to kill him, do so in a duel—before the people of Rome. Sate the appetite of Emperors Geta and Caracalla as they watch you strike at each other in a frenzied battle for glory in the name of the gods."

Hanno listens intently, his expression thoughtful as he steps closer. Without a word, he helps you smooth the folds of your tunic, his touch deliberate yet gentle. "Will you tell him of our association, then?" he asks, finishing his adjustments and letting his hand linger briefly as it grazes your cheek.

"What is there to tell?" you counter, meeting his gaze with resolve. "Our association is no one’s concern." A smile spreads across Hanno’s face, slow and satisfied, as if your answer pleased him greatly.

Moments later, Ravi appears, his expression tense. "The guards are near," he informs, his tone clipped. His gaze shifts between you and Hanno, briefly noting the closeness between you, though he chooses to remain silent. With a small nod, Ravi turns to Hanno, gesturing for him to follow. Hanno casts you a lingering look before allowing Ravi to lead him toward the guards, leaving you behind with the weight of the encounter still pressing on your chest.

You wait patiently for General Acacius to arrive, though his delay stretches longer than anticipated. The thought suddenly strikes you—he might already be in your quarters, as he has been on previous occasions.

"Would you care to explain," his voice calls out, smooth and laced with quiet reproach, "what reasons led my beloved healer, whom I hold in such high regard, to abandon me to the care of Ravi instead of tending to me herself?" Turning toward the source, you find him stepping into view, pulling back the mantle that had concealed his face and form. His approach is measured, deliberate, and his gaze briefly flickers to the swords you had left behind without considering they might draw his notice.

"You should have sought explanations from your wife, General Acacius," you reply, your tone calm but firm, though the effort to keep it so is greater than it seems. "It was she who instructed me, in the presence of the guards no less, to withdraw from tending to your care." His footsteps pause near the swords, his attention drawn to their gleaming edges. The air between you grows heavier as his eyes shift back to yours, narrowing slightly as he regards you. You remain steadfast, though the distance you keep from him feels tenuous, as if he could close it with the simplest of steps.

"I was not informed of such a decision; I would never have allowed my care to pass from your hands to another's," General Acacius speaks softly, his tone a mixture of calm and yearning as he moves toward you with deliberate caution, yet there is a palpable hunger in his eyes.

"General, whether you authorized it or not is irrelevant," you reply, holding your ground though the weight of his presence begins to press upon you. "Lucilla no longer wishes for us to remain close. Surely, you remember that when all this began, you told me that if your wife were ever to object to our association, even if it was merely for appearances, it would end."

Your words are firm, yet the truth they carry sinks heavily into your own heart. You know now, with certainty, that the chapter of your life entwined with Acacius is nearing its inevitable conclusion.

"Those words were spoken before we became what we are today," Acacius responds, his voice steady yet filled with a quiet intensity. "Surely you know I have no intention of abandoning you." He steps closer, his gaze unwavering, his nearness suffocating in its allure.

"Do not worry for me. Your pity is no longer necessary, Acacius," you say, though the ache in your chest betrays the pain these words bring. Deep down, you have long feared that what he felt for you stemmed from nothing but pity.

"I have never pitied you," he murmurs, his voice low and filled with conviction. "Perhaps I felt empathy for your pain in the beginning, but after that—everything was real. Your presence makes me a better man." His hand reaches up to touch your face, tenderly tracing its contours as if to soften your resolve. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, an intimate gesture meant to draw you back to him, to coax you into his embrace once more.

"You owe your loyalty to your wife, not to me," you say, your voice faltering slightly under the weight of his gaze and the warmth of his touch. "We must no longer allow ourselves to feel anything beyond what is proper, Acacius." Even as you speak, your resolve weakens beneath his touch, his words a balm and a temptation all at once. He seems heedless of your protest, intent only on closing the distance between you.

"Lucilla has my loyalty, but you... you have my protection. I will not leave you unguarded," Acacius says, his lips almost brushing against yours, his voice weighted with emotion.

"Then you should know that my loyalty is no longer yours exclusively," you reply, steadying yourself as you deliver the words. You feel the sharp recoil in Acacius as he steps back, his expression hardening, though disbelief flickers in his eyes.

"I am involved with another," you continue, forcing the lie to your lips with a strength you did not know you possessed. "It may mean that I will no longer require your protection in the future." Your words are a dagger you wield with precision, for you know that to continue as his lover would jeopardize his marriage—a risk you cannot allow, no matter the desires that linger within you.

"Who would dare attempt to claim you, knowing that you are mine?" General Acacius demands, his voice edged with irritation that betrays a rare crack in his calm demeanor. His gaze narrows, his presence no less imposing, but the fury brewing beneath his words sends a shiver through you. You realize the fire you have kindled within him may burn brighter than you anticipated.

"Someone who does not fear the wrath of General Acacius," you say, your voice steady despite the undeniable pull of his proximity. You desire him, undeniably so, but you know you must not have him.

"It is clear that our involvement must end—now. Before it concludes in disaster," you declare, watching as Acacius processes your words, his gaze shadowed with an intensity that seems both pained and unyielding.

"Then let it be clear to you," Acacius responds, his tone laced with an unwavering authority, though no threat lies in his words. "Whoever dares to encroach upon what is mine will meet the edge of my sword without delay. Our bond will not be severed while either of us draws breath, Y/N. Keep that in mind." His declaration is resolute, not spoken as a plea but as a statement of his immutable commitment to you. It leaves you breathless, the weight of his words pressing against the fortress of your resolve.

"You cannot protect me forever, Acacius. Just as I cannot heal you forever," you murmur, stepping closer, your desperation palpable as though silently begging him to release you—to let you go before you both reach a precipice from which there is no return.

"Mea domina," he whispers reverently, stepping closer and pulling down the fabric covering your shoulder with deliberate care. His lips press softly against the exposed skin, lingering as if to seal a silent vow. The tenderness in his touch conveys more devotion than desire, a gesture that leaves you caught between longing and regret.

"I would die if necessary, but I will not abandon those I hold in the highest esteem. You and Lucilla are my priorities, and I will relinquish neither of you. If you place so much faith in this new interest of yours, let him come to me bearing a sword, and he shall find his end," he declares, his voice unwavering and resolute, his words resonating like a solemn oath.

Acacius lifts his hand to gently cradle your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as his lips trace a path of soft kisses along your temple, down to the curve of your jaw, and finally your forehead. His lips linger as if memorizing each contour of your face, avoiding your mouth deliberately—a clear boundary, or perhaps his way of expressing silent reproach for the words you have spoken. The kisses feel like a claim, yet also a farewell—his way of both cherishing and punishing, of reminding you of his commitment while withholding the one intimacy he knows you yearn for. The intensity in his gaze as he pulls back speaks volumes, as though he is willing you to see the depths of his resolve. "At times, it feels as though battle is all you truly understand, Acacius," you say, holding his gaze with a penetrating look, as if unraveling the depths of his thoughts.

"I am a man of honor," he replies, his tone firm yet measured. "I will not seek out the man who dares to involve himself with you, but neither will I stand idle should he attempt to take what is rightfully mine." His presence remains close, commanding and resolute, as though he seeks to claim not just the space but the moment itself. With deliberate care, Acacius reaches out, his hand brushing your face in a touch that is at once gentle and laden with unspoken meaning. It lingers, as if he wishes to commit every contour of your features to memory.

Without another word, he steps back, retreating from your chambers with the disciplined stride of a general accustomed to carrying the weight of empires. His departure leaves the room heavy with unresolved tension, the air thick with the echoes of what cannot be spoken. Alone, you are left to ponder the tangled web of emotions and loyalties binding you to both Acacius and Hanno. The weight of your entanglement bears down upon you, as inevitable as the arena’s call to blood and glory.

[odinsblog]

Let us be very clear: Hamas breached international law on the 7th of October. Hamas targeted innocent civilians in the most callous and inhumane manner, and their actions have been rightly condemned by right thinking people across the world.

But we should also be very clear, Israel has breached international law, not just every day since October the 7th, but virtually every single day for decades.

Israel occupies Palestinian land, against international law.

Israel blockades Palestinian territory, against international law.

Israel builds and expands illegal settlements, against international law.

Israel enforces an apartheid system that restricts the movements of Palestinians and denies their fundamental rights, against international law.

And Israel regularly and systematically attacks and kills Palestinian civilians, against international law.

So the question that must be answered by all of us in political life is this: How does the world respond to flagrant abuses of international law when it comes to the horrendous war crimes of Hamas? The response was very clear and very consistent. World leaders queued up to say Israel has the right to defend itself. One after another repeated their words the great and the good, including our government.

“Israel has the right to defend itself.”

Repeated in statement after statement, tweet after tweet, despite the full knowledge that those words have become contaminated. The words, “Israel has the right to defend itself” means in practice that Israel takes that right as license to bombard civilians, to bomb schools, hospitals and other civilian infrastructure. And it has now been taken as license to enforce the displacement of 1 million people from one end of an open air prison to another. To deny food, energy, medical supplies to a besieged civilian population, to actually deny them water, to ensure that children, the sick, the disabled, the elderly will literally die of thirst.

“Israel has the right to defend itself” has now become cover for, “Israel has the right to commit genocide.”

Right in front of our eyes. How come we never hear the words, “Palestine has the right to defend itself”?

Not when a humanitarian flotilla bringing essential supplies to Gaza is met with a military assault and the murder by Israel of nine unarmed activists.

Not when Palestinians march in peaceful protests against illegal blockade and are met again with a military assault and the murder of 300 of them.

Not after the countless bombings of Gaza by Israeli forces.

Not even when Israel targeted and murdered four little Palestinian boys playing football on a beach.

And not when Palestinians were dragged from their homes and forced to watch as those homes were destroyed to allow for new illegal Israeli settlements on lands that are clearly defined in international law as part of Palestine.

And not after the countless offensive attacks by Israel against the people of Gaza or the West Bank, have we or any heard anybody in this house or any Western leader uttered the words, “Palestine has the right to defend itself.”

And why not?

And by the way, I'm not asking you to say those words. And in fact, it's just as well you don't. Because we all know that the people of Palestine can't defend themselves, not against one of the most powerful military forces in the world that is backed up by even more powerful military forces.

The truth is that the people of Palestine, just like the innocent people of Israel, don't need the international community to tell them that their leaders have the right to inflict more bombings, more pain, more suffering. They need the international community to say, “Stop.” To release the hostages, to say stop the bombings, the siege, the slaughter. They need the international community to tell Israel to stop the blockade, stop the apartheid, stop the annexations, to stop the genocide.

And they need countries Tánaiste to lead the way. And Ireland should be one of those countries that leads the way.

We know colonialism.

We know oppression.

We know conflict.

But we also know conflict resolution.

We know peace building.

We know nation building.

And because of what we know, what our history has taught us, our call tonight must be clear, immediate, full and unequivocal ceasefire fires and a decisive international intervention that leads to negotiations and to a lasting and just peace settlement and to, at long last, to a free, sovereign and independent Palestine.🇵🇸

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 nightgown

synopsis: after two wonderful years with the swordsman, you're reluctant to let him go, especially without telling him how you feel. luckily, he feels the exact same way... and more than accepts your scanty going away present.

cw: part 2/3, nsfw, fluffy fluff, comfort, reader is FIONE, reader is also real as hell, zoro is a fiend, mihawk is such dad, this was so fun to write.

a/n: tagging: @that-b-word-lol @ihatespidersdie I NEED THIS MAN UNDER MY TREE

"C'mon, (y/n), they're not gonna fight if you keep playing with 'em," Zoro sighed, removing his sword from his mouth as he crossed his arms over his chest.

You giggled, unable to fight off your smile as you danced with the humandrills, relishing in their happy snorts and yips as the leader of the gang—Chuki—picked you up and placed you on his shoulder, happily parading you around.

"Sorry," you grinned, clapping with approval as a few of the others performed back-flips and cartwheels to keep your attention. "I was coming out to check on you guys."

Just then, Chuki let out a howl of excitement, wanting to join in on the fun.

Without warning, he launched himself into a somersault, completely forgetting you were on his shoulder and sending you flying.

'Not again...'

Zoro moved like he'd done this a hundred times—which he had—effortlessly shooting himself up and catching you in mid-air, bridal style.

"Every time?" he asked, raising a brow.

"I'm gonna miss this," you chuckled, looping an arm around his neck as he landed.

"The hell are you gonna do when I'm gone?" he carefully put you down, crossing his arms over his chest once again. "I'm not gonna be here to keep you from falling on your face."

You shrugged, turning to Chuki with a wide smile as he gave you a high five, "I guess I'll just have to learn how to land on my own."

"HA!"

The swordsman scoffed, shoulders bobbing with laughter as you snapped your head over to him, less amused.

"The girl who can barely hold a sword? I'd love to see it."

"Hey!"

"Hu hu hua!" Chuki mimicked, turning to you with an incredulous look. "Ooh, ah ah ah, hua!"

"I know right," you agreed, resting a hand on your hip as you glanced at the swordsman. "And smelly, too..."

"WHAT WAS THAT?!"

Gloom Island was known all-throughout the Grand Line as an abandoned island, its kingdoms having brought themselves to utter ruin after years of war.

Your parents had even been drafted, and, of course, killed in the line of duty.

But, by fate or by fortune, you had managed to survive, living through most of your childhood as an orphan in a battle-ravaged kingdom.

Until, eventually, you were the last one standing.

Alone, you searched for any survivors, managing to stumble across a devil fruit along the way before meeting the humandrills.

The Speak-Speak fruit allowed you to become fluent in any language from the moment you heard it spoken aloud—animal language, included.

So, after meeting them on their level, the monkeys took you in, protecting you and treating you as one of their own until Mihawk came along not too long after, taking up the role as your father-figure and mentor.

Naturally, he tried to teach you some swordsmanship, but you lacked... talent, to say the least.

"I've gotten better since the last time we trained together!" you bellowed, proudly, as you picked up a sword, lowering yourself into an offensive stance. "Look!"

"Your posture's off," Zoro noticed, off-rip, "And your feet are too far apart."

Breath hitching, your face glowed with embarrassment, your body practically freezing in place.

'Shit!'

And just as you were trying to prove a point...

"Here," he instructed, getting up behind you and pressing his hand into the small of your back, straightening you up. "Like this."

Your spine shivered at his touch, the thick pads of his fingers practically burning into your flesh, despite the fabric separating them.

"Pull your feet a bit closer... it will firm up your stance... And if you're facing an enemy head on like this, you're gonna want to be upright."

"Okay!" you squeaked, doing your best to make the adjustments without physically combusting.

Carefully, you pulled your feet in shoulder width, and used his hand as a guide to straighten up your posture.

"Good," he commended, his arms suddenly coming around you grab your hands, helping you fix your grip on the sword. "Now when you swing, I want you to step into it."

You felt chills when his hands touched yours, years of work evident in his rough, calloused flesh, which held yours with the gentlest touch.

Turning to glance at him, your eyes came up to meet his once more, telling a story that made you just want to sit down and listen.

You studied his facial features up close—for about the fifty-millionth time—taking note of everything you had come to admire in the last two years.

The slight pink of his tanned lips...

The strength of his jaw...

The faint scar that rested on the tip of his shoulder, not that such a detail could be picked up unless one was really looking.

You felt like the staring going on for ages, but you didn't want to look away, and neither did he.

He, too, was studying your face.

And, deep down, he never wanted to look away.

"Dinner is ready," your father's voice cut through the air, draining all the color from your face.

Instantly, you and Zoro quickly threw yourselves off each other, heat rising to both your faces as you turned away, embarrassed—and slightly scared for the swordsman.

Mihawk fixed Zoro with a sharp glare, sizing him up as if he was some sort of delinquent.

He had been suspicious of you and the swordsman since the moment he arrived, particularly suspect as to why you felt so inclined to help him.

He knew you were a smart girl, and wouldn't disregard everything he had ever taught you about being safe without a valid reason.

A valid reason being a handsome man, in this case.

Still, what was he supposed to expect?

You were a woman now—no matter how difficult it was for him to accept—and women had... needs.

Mihawk shivered at the thought, quickly purging it from his mind as he turned on his heel, power-walking back toward the castle.

Not under his roof...

"Don't dawdle... it'll get cold."

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Come in," Zoro called, not moving from his spot resting peacefully on his bed, his hands tucked behind his head.

"Happy Going Away/Leaving To Reunite With Your Friends Tomorrow Day!" you smiled, carefully entering his room while holding a plate with a comically large onigiri on top, a sparkler sticking out of it. "I know you don't like cake, so I brought the next best thing!"

Warmed by the display, Zoro sat up, trying and failing to fight the smile rising to his lips as you approached.

'Adorable...'

"(y/n)... you didn't have to do all his," he started, not knowing what to say as you handed him his gift.

"I know that. But I figured you deserved something special to commemorate all the hard work you've done," you nodded, sheepishly. "You put up with my dad for two years... of your own free will... that alone is its own achievement."

Letting out a small chuckle, the swordsman suddenly found his eyes drifting to you, only to be met by your pretty, (e/c) eyes staring down at him, the entire room fading around you two.

He barely believed his eyes as he drank you in—your appearance sinful enough to make the devil sweat.

Instead of your usual long, black dress, you wore a tiny, black nightgown, which accentuated your luscious, curvaceous body and exposed the enticing flesh of your thighs.

You paired the little number with some black pumps, which he bet barely made you taller than him if you were to stand up.

The moonlight pouring in from the window illuminated your skin and glossed up, plump lips at curled into a nervous smile at the sight of him.

Topped off with the sweet silkiness of your voice; the way your body sensually moved; how you smelled of cocoa butter and vanilla.

Quietly, Zoro cursed under his breath, practically reeling.

God, if the last two years were anything, they were a testament to his willpower...

He had never felt this way before.

So distracted.

So obsessed.

You plagued his mind every hour of the day, the thoughts ranging from wholesome to downright scandalous.

Seeing you around the castle, watching the movement of your hips and the graceful slide of your hands, making him feel extremely stiff.

'Christ...'

He tried not to think of you like that.

You were the daughter of his sworn enemy, and a sweetheart, at that...

You deserved a nice guy, one that had a regular life, with a regular job and regular urges.

Not a jaded pirate like himself.

But you were just so damn alluring, he couldn't help himself.

"What do you think you're doing?"

You blinked once, coming out of the trance the man had put you under with a confused raise of your brow.

"Huh?" you asked, dumbly, your mind having turned to mush in the five minutes you were staring at him.

"I said," he pointedly repeated, placing the plate down on his nightstand before standing to his full height, towering over you. "What do you think you're doing?"

Nervous, your manicured hand wrapped around your arm, the swordsman's mind immediately traveling somewhere else.

"I... don't know what you're talking about," you muttered, eyes drifting away from him.

You tried to think quick, scouring your mind for some sort of excuse as he fixed his gaze on you like a predator would his pray.

You knew you couldn't chicken out now.

Especially after all the work you put into getting ready.

"You come in here..." he started, slowly pressing forward, forcing you to step back in order to keep some air between you two. "Dressed like that... just to give me a going-away present?"

You swallowed, thickly, continuing to move backward as he continued to invade your space, his eye cutting you down to size like a cat does a mouse.

"What are you trying to do?"

You turn away slightly, pulling your soft, glossy lip into a nervous bite.

"I just... wanted to look nice... for you," you muttered, resting your hands behind your back.

"Did you, now?" he cocked a brow. "Y'know... after all this time, I think I've finally got you figured out."

With a squeak, your back met the wall, forcing you to stay put as the swordsman caged you in, his muscular body leaving no route of escape.

"I think... you're a sweet girl, who's never met a pirate before, or been allowed outside the confines of this island, that thinks that she can stick it to her father by flirting with the man who is hellbent on taking him down."

Zoro raised a brow, cockily, a teasing smirk rising to his lips.

"How's that? Am I in the ballpark?"

"Hardly," you denied, a small air of confidence returning the wind to your sails.

It caught his attention immediately.

"I may be sweet... and you may be my father's rival... but you forget that I am I woman."

His breath hitched, eye widening slightly as you pulled yourself off the wall, taking your turn to move forward and regain some ground.

"A woman who's been lonely for quite some time... a woman who enjoys your company more than she'd care to admit... a woman who's never had more fun than in the two years you've lived in her house..."

You rested your hand against his chest, the swordsman scared you would feel his heart beating against his rib-cage.

"A woman who's found herself falling in love with the idiot that crash landed on her island..."

Eye wide, Zoro flushed at your boldness, looking away from your intense, (e/c) eyes.

"You don't mean that..." he attempted to rationalize, suddenly unable to comprehend the possibility of you actually liking him.

This had to be a trick.

You were just doing this to piss off your dad...

Right?

You stared at him with hooded eyes, flashing him a bashful, crooked smile that nearly had him melting into the floor.

"If I didn't... do you think I'd be standing here right now?"

The floodgates were opened.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, Zoro roughly yanked you forward, pulling you into his chest as you let out a gasp of surprise.

"You're playing a dangerous game," he warned, holding himself back by the thinnest string of his sanity. "If we do this... there's no going back. And after tomorrow, you won't see me for who knows how long..."

He looked you up and down, giving you a stare that would make any woman weak in the knees.

"You gonna be okay with that?"

Seriously, you nodded, looking up at him with sparkling eyes that nearly set his heart on fire.

"Alright, then... no holding back."

And he took "no holding back" with the utmost seriousness, managing to make you cum three times throughout your night in his room.

The first time was on his couch, coaxing you to bend over and let him massage and spank your soft, jiggly ass, which he swore was heaven sent when he plunged his tongue into your velvety folds, relishing in your soft moans and desperate grinds into his face.

The second time was in his bed, your legs pinned down onto the mattress while he tailed you, his cock plunging in and out of you as his arms wrapped around your body, allowing you to feel safe and comfortable while he dicked you down, feeling feral at the sight of your smooth tummy and soft tits.

The third and last time—because your virgin self simply couldn't take anymore—was when he bent you over and fucked you from behind on the foot of his bed.

His hands held your hips while he leaned over, physically holding you up on your jelly-like legs.

Your hands frantically fisted the sheets as he pounded into you, his firm thighs meeting your ass cheeks as he fucked you like there was no tomorrow.

Because, to him, there wasn't.

"F-Fuck! Oh, my God! Right there!" you sobbed. "Yes, please! Right there!"

He watched your pretty face contort in pleasure, loving how soft you felt pressed against him, and how you sounded moaning from the lips he'd been kissing all night.

"Nuh-uh," he huffed in your ear, leaning down to nip at your lobe. "S'not God that's doin' this, pretty. Who's really makin' you feel good?"

"Zoro!" you moaned, a pitiful whine following after. "H-How are you so good at this?"

He grinned, becoming cocky at seeing you lose your mind on his dick.

"You tell me," he teasingly ordered. "How good am I?"

SMACK!

The sharp sound of his hand connecting with your ass cheek made you let out a harsh groan of pleasure, your pussy clenching around him.

"So good!" you gasped, the sensations too much.

Feeling you tighten around him, Zoro let out a harsh grunt, fighting off the moan ready to leave his lips.

"Christ... body's so fuckin' perfect," he groaned, kneading one of your tits in his calloused hand as he sped up, hitting that spot inside of you that made you see stars. "Look at you... so damn pretty."

"Oh, Zoro! I can't!" you moaned, bottom lip quivering at the coil in your stomach wound tighter and tighter. "I can't...Z-Zoro, m'gunna! M'gunna—!"

"You gonna, gonna what?" he chuckled. "You wanna cum for me again?"

You pathetically nodded, forcing his grin even wider.

"So greedy..."

But so was he.

He would fuck you all night if he could, but he was reaching his limit same as you.

"Cum for me, (y/n)," he ordered, huskily, as he leaned down to your ear, slamming into you harder and you frantically rubbed your clit. "I'm close, too. Rub that little pussy and fuckin' give it to me, baby!"

It doesn't take long for him to blow his load inside of you, flooding you with cum that dripped down your thighs.

His moans of pleasure triggered you, causing your pussy to quiver and flutter around him as you came.

A moan of his name and a few swears left your lips as you rode it out, coating his cock in your sticky juices.

Turning around, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into you in a tender moment of bliss.

Pressing his lips against yours, his hand came up to cup your cheek, the embrace feeling like nothing short of a goodbye.

When your highs finally subsided, Zoro gently pulled out of you, making your pussy spurt out his cum.

The sight nearly made him hard all over again.

'Fuuuuck...'

"Sorry," you groggily apologized, already half asleep as you laid down, your half-lidded, (e/c) eyes still sparkling in the moonlight.

Amused by your fucked out state, he scooped you up, effortlessly, carrying you up to the head of the bed and placing you down among the pillows.

With a yawn, he climbed in with you, stomach faintly fluttering as you rested your head on his chest, nuzzling tightly into his side.

"M'gonna miss you, Zoro," you softly said into the quiet, dimly lit room, "...A lot"

Carefully, he rested his hand on your back, his thumb drawing mindless circles into your skin.

As much as he loved this—your company, your touch, you—he knew that come morning, he would still have to leave.

He had a dream, and an obligation to the family he called his crew.

He couldn't just abandon that.

His brows furrowed, a look of determination settling on his face.

But that didn't mean he couldn't make you a promise.

"I'll come back for you," he stated, plainly, without a doubt in his mind. "When I'm the Greatest Swordsman... and when Luffy's King of the Pirates... I'll come back for you. And I'll take you out to sea, and show you all the places you read about in your books."

Looking up at him, your sleepy eyes sparkled with a glimmer of hope, nearly turning him into a puddle.

"Really?" you asked, adorably.

With a nod, he pecked a soft kiss on your hairline, before leaning back into the pillows.

"Really."

BONUS!!

"Oi, Chuki!" Zoro called as he walked through the ruins, knapsack thrown over his shoulder. "Come out here! I gotta talk to you about somethin'!"

The swordsman had left his room in the wee hours of the morning, managing to wiggle out your grasp and clean himself up before placing a tender goodbye kiss on your forehead, leaving you to sleep.

The previous night introduced some new feelings to him, and if he was going to get a lick of sleep out at sea, he needed to take care of one final thing.

"C'mon! It's about (y/n)!"

At the sound of your name, the large humandrill immediately showed himself, jumping out from behind a stone column with a loud whoop, which sounded eerily like what's wrong.

"With me gone... and with Hawk-Eye on his trips for the Navy... (y/n)'s gonna be on this island all by herself," Zoro started, brows cinched together, seriously.

This was the only thing that was going to quell his worries.

"I don't know what's gonna happen in the next few years, but if any pirates, or even the World Government, come stickin' their noses around this place... you send them flyin', you understand?"

Using the handle of his sword, he pointed toward the castle, where you slept peacefully, safe and secure.

"No one goes near her. No one even makes it to the castle. You fight like your goddamn life depends on it, alright? 'Cause it does."

Surprised, the monkey swallowed thickly, especially when the swordsman's eye landed on him with the harshest glare he had ever seen.

Even harsher than Mihawk's.

"I come back here and find out that she got hurt on your watch... you, and all of your monkey pals, are finished... Understand?"

Frantic, and terrified, Chuki chittered in agreement, rigidly saluting the man for confirmation.

With a proud grin, Zoro nodded, continuing on his trek to the shore as he waved to the baboon, along with the hundred others fearfully watching from the trees.

"Good... I'll see you guys around."

[suguru-getos]

Kid Gojo goes to Kid!Fem-Reader's House

This is a part II to a drabble I wrote, Part I.

Satoru's footsteps matched hers, trailing towards an unknown path leading to a normal-looking house. It was beautiful though, bright colours, gardens had flower beds of roses, tulips, a ceramic pot with fresh water for the birds. Homely, the house looked and felt what the Gojo estate never did. For a ten year old, who wasn't accustomed to this new found feeling, Satoru didn't know what to say, how to react. He hums, "small, your house is small." kicking a piece of gravel from the pavement.

She was on her tippy-toes, reaching for the door-bell and ringing it. "Mean." She pouted, looking at Satoru with a disgusted face. Like he has shit his pants and she can smell it kind of disgusted.

"What is that face?" He fumbles, taken aback, eyes siren in offense. She shrugged, sticking her tongue out, "I make this face at meanie poopy people." She crossed her arms, always works. No matter who it is.

The faint echoes of footsteps carry from farther away in the kitchen to the hallway, becoming clearer as the door opens. "Oh hello Y/N! Welcome home sweetheart!" Her mother beams, bright and joyful. Her eyes scan the little kid next to her, from his clothes he definitely did not look homeless. Beautiful, all-knowing, almost frightening eyes. "Oh? You made a new friend?" Her mother inquires, looking at Satoru. Now, Satoru Gojo was used to people bending backwards for him, this bland reaction was refreshing.

"My name is Satoru Gojo." He hums, "She dragged me here." He scoffs. Of course not, but the heir of the Gojo clan can't look eager for some cookies?

"She did? Oh my" Her mother gasped a little, knowing the kid was just behaving of his age. "I just wanted him to taste your cookies mama, he protected my favourite water bottle tumbler from the poopie kids!" She grins, walking inside. For a moment, Satoru looks hesitant. What is he even doing, he has roles and responsibilities. Cookie-tasting is definitely not one of them. He can have cookies from any part of the world, Paris? Even London's bakeries- why even-

His trance is broken the moment his wrist is grabbed by her, cheerful eyes beaming and dragging him inside. The moment Satoru's footsteps get inside, and the delicious scent of cookie dough fills his nostrils, he decides to stay. Cookies are important. He could get cookies from anywhere but these are the best ones, yes. The girl herself, said so.

"Come sit," Her mother coos, "Satoru kun, Y/N." She hums, getting them both a chair in the dining table.

Satoru's eyes linger around, the house is cute, not too vast. The distance between him and Y/N is also minimal, because the dining table is not so big. It's perfect actually. He grins, he feels happy, the spacing makes him feel included.

"So? What is your job?" Satoru asked, crossing his arms, looking at the girl.

"My job? I dunno- mama's daughter? Though when I play Police with my friends I am never the thief!" She grins. Satoru is… jealous. Satoru is… enamoured.

"No like, okay leave it- what is your dream?" He asks again, surely there can be some similarity where he can link his life to hers.

"I am gonna be an Astronaut!" She grins wide, "Gonna see the pretty moon, the pretty stars!"

Satoru Gojo pouts, he's ten, and his birth shackled him to one role. He wants to be a sorcerer because he doesn't know any other thing. He thought being a sorcerer was his decision, training was his decision. An eerie bewilderment presses his soul, hollowing it like a cavity. Why couldn't he think about becoming someone like an Astronaut?

"When you come here next time- we should play together." Y/N hums, feet shaking in boredom.

Next time… why would there be a next time? Her mother comes in the room, freshly baked cookies with a glass of milk, a slice of the cake she just made.

"Oh drooling!" Y/N whines, watching her mom place them on the table.

Satoru acts, sophisticated, there is no way some cookies would make him say that, he's not a dog! But they smell so good- NO WAY!

Y/N quickly takes the first bite, happy shakes and wiggles follow with whines. "Oh my god mama this is the best!" Satoru looks flustered, hesitantly taking a bite as well. The flavours melt in his mouth, it was perfect. Wow… "This is good." He announces, watching her mother grin and leave the two alone. He gets headpats, Y/N gets headpats. Satoru doesn't get headpats, the flustered expression on his face is evidence enough.

"Y-you were saying?" He asked, taking another bite.

"Oh yeah! I was saying, when you c'mere next time, we should play House." "House?" What is that game?

"Like, house? Or we could play Police too…" She grins, so excited, so thoughtless.

"I don't play kid's games. I am ten years old." Satoru scoffed.

"Aw- okay." She looked down, taking another bite, interest and excitement killed. Satoru's eyes glare at her, stop doing that! "Maybe just once." Satoru Gojo was kind, he knew he was… just didn't want to show it to others especially in a scathing world like the Jujutsu community where he is worshipped. "Okay! Let's play House then!" She grins, perking right back up.

Ten year old Satoru Gojo had already promised a second meet to play House. Is this how you make friends, he wonders…

[ecoterrorist-katara]

The tragedy of Katara’s parentification

Sokka and Katara were both parentified, and it’s a profoundly life-changing thing for both of them. One of the saddest things in ATLA, though, is how Sokka sort of got to outgrow parentification, but Katara never did.

Sokka’s told to be the man. The provider, the protector. He’s not so good at the former (his hunting failures are a consistent source of comic relief), and he takes failures of the latter very, very hard. He doesn’t manage to save Yue, and that wrecks him. After Yue, he becomes extremely protective of Suki in a way that’s borderline offensive to her. He’s willing to do anything to protect his friends and his family, including something as irresponsible as breaking into the Boiling Rock. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Sokka is the only one of the Gaang who unambiguously kills. The rest of them may technically have clean hands because of cartoon logic, but Combustion Man is very dead, and Sokka is the one who killed him. We don’t know how he feels about it, because the show never goes there, but I have a pet theory that Sokka is so uncharacteristically (remember he was team “leave Zuko to freeze to death”) against Katara confronting Yon Rha in The Southern Raiders because he’s the only who knows what killing feels like and wants to protect Katara from it.

But by the end of the show, Sokka’s in a place where he can start to let go of his need to protect. Objectively, all his friends are unbelievably powerful and can take care of themselves, including his sister and his girlfriend. Suki is the one who saves him in the final battle, representing not only a reversal of his initial cartoonish misogyny, but also demonstrating that he is worthy of protection. And of course, he and his friends saved the world, so there isn’t really an enemy that he has to protect them from anymore. Sokka’s loved ones create the conditions under which his parentified behaviour is no longer necessary. Sokka would still have to take the first step to stop seeing himself as the one who has to lay his life on the line, but at least it’s possible for him.

But not Katara.

Katara had to take on the mom role after their mother was murdered, which meant she was responsible for domestic labour and emotional support. Sokka says in The Runaway that her role was to keep the family together. Unlike protection, that’s always a full time job regardless of the war. We see Katara spending more screen time than anybody cooking, getting food, mending, and generally doing women’s work. We see Katara giving everyone emotional support, including strangers and her enemy. We see Katara putting aside her own discomfort and her own hurt in The Desert because if she falls apart, they all die. Nobody ever showed her that she doesn’t need to be the only one who cooks, or that somebody else can be responsible for the emotional wellbeing of her friends, or that — god forbid — someone else can actually be responsible for her emotional wellbeing.

That’s why I never cared for the Ka/taang argument of “he teaches her to be a kid again!” Putting aside the fact that Katara ends up taking care of Aang a lot more as the series goes on, the whole tragedy of parentification is that you can never again be a child. That part of your childhood, your god-given right, is robbed from you. It is extremely precious and important to still be able to be a kid, but breaking free of parentification is not about seeing yourself as a kid. It’s about breaking free of being responsible for everyone’s feelings and behaviours.

For Katara, that responsibility is not problem of perception, but of reality. Unlike Sokka, who was told and shown that his loved ones are capable of protecting themselves, Katara has zero reason to believe that her loved ones are able to feed and clothe themselves and not fall apart emotionally. Between Toph and Sokka who emphatically don’t want to do this work, it all falls on Katara. Telling a parentified child that they just need to loosen up is akin to telling an overworked mother that she needs to just relax (“happy Mother’s Day! You get a break from chores, which you will catch up on tomorrow because nobody else is doing them”). It doesn’t accomplish anything if nobody creates the circumstances under which it’s possible to let go of responsibilities. A lot of Zutara fans, spanning all the way back to the early days of the fandom, like the “Momtara and Dadko” trope where Zuko also does chores. Why? Because even without the concept and language of parentification, many fans recognized that Katara’s performance of domestic and emotional labour is inequitable and probably very taxing.

Growing out of parentification is about more than just letting go of old expectations: it’s also about finding a new way to value yourself beyond the role you grew up with. I’ve said this before, but it’s very important to acknowledge that just because a kid is parentified doesn’t mean they’re actually good at being a parent. In fact, it’s probably a given that they’re not, because they’re kids performing roles that are developmentally inappropriate! Sokka remains a shit hunter; he becomes a decent fighter but he’s still miles behind his friends. A big part of healing from his parentification is finding another area — strategy, engineering, project management (what else do you call that schedule) — where he actually excels, to which he can dedicate his time and from which he can derive satisfaction and a sense of identity. For Katara, fighting for the oppressed and combat waterbending give her that. Crucially, however, Katara does not stop being a girl when she becomes a warrior. She’s still responsible for domestic and emotional labour. Unlike Sokka, whose protector duties were more or less relieved as the series went on and he found new ways to contribute to the group, Katara continued to perform her old role in addition to her new one (which is depressingly realistic btw, look up feminist theory around the concept of the second shift). Still, it’s important that she found these new ways to value herself and her contributions…

…which disappear in her adult life. Where’s adult Katara fighting for the oppressed? Where’s adult Katara enjoying her status as a master waterbender? Where’s Mighty Katara? Where’s the Painted Lady? Where’s the person who vanquished a whole Fire Lord?

What do we know about adult Katara? She’s no longer a rabblerouser or an ecoterrorist. She did not translate her desire to help the downtrodden into a political role, like being Chief or on the United Republic Council. She’s not known as the best waterbender in the world, only the best healer, even though her combat abilities are what she took the most pride in. Even as a healer, she established no hospitals, trained no widespread acolytes (except Korra, I guess?), and made no known contributions to the field.

What Katara is known for…is being a wife and a mother. The same role she was forced to take on at age 8. One which she performed for the next 80+ years.

[callmearcturus]

dottie lasso is the final boss of the show (and ted loses)

someone commented on my ted-is-a-feminine-junior-too post about recognizing dottie lasso and what she did, and i'm a Johnny-come-lately to this fandom so i missed all the discourse

but surely it's been discussed to death that Dottie Lasso is the Final Boss of Ted's life, right? like, she shows up on that bench and you should feel the opening of "MEGALOVANIA" in your soul because she's the villain of the story.

honestly, in Ted Lasso, the main villains are: Rupert Mannion, Twitter, Rupert Mannion again, cisnormativity/heteronormativity, and Dottie Lasso, kind of in that order IMO.

"Mom City" is kind of a genius episode with its thesis and punchline. Because Dottie shows up and derails Ted's entire life and not in a good way. She makes him palpably uncomfortable and all of his usual kindness and interest is just turned off around her.

This episode isn't shy about reminding the audience that Richmond has become Ted's home. From the most fish outta water who nearly gets killed looking the wrong way crossing the street, Ted knows his neighbors, knows the culture here, and is defensive with that knowledge because it's been hard-won over time.

No but really, look at how UNCOMFORTABLE Ted is EVERY MINUTE of this episode. It's so stark bc this charm offensive Dottie's doing on everyone at Richmond is so clearly a Lasso Thing. This is the exact tactic Ted used when he was new in town and completely at sea.

(fuck this got long, there's a lot more under the jump)

But he isn't charmed or permissive or entertained, he never once Yes, Ands what Dottie says. In fact, he corrects her all the time.

jesus fuck look at this specific moment!!!

who the fuck are you and where is ted

because Dottie being here is a nightmare. she's the person who knows the Ted Lasso Source Code and the way she maneuvers and nudges him, he seems helpless against it. So he continuously separates himself from her in what feels to me like a fearful reaction.

Like, when Dottie explains where she's staying, she does this trick

DOTTIE: An adorable little hostel. I've met so many Australians. They are backpacking through Europe. So much sex. TED: Mom. DOTTIE: Not me, the Australians. TED: No, no, I get it, okay. How about you stay here for the rest of your trip, all right? DOTTIE: Only if I'm not a hassle.

This is such a fucking move, you realize? She has been in London a fucking WEEK without telling him, then as soon as she tells him where she's staying, she, a midwestern mom to her open-minded but very romantically private son, invokes sex so he'll be uncomfortable with the situation and invite her to stay. This is a chess move they should call the Wichita Shuffle.

And Ted absolutely hates the way Dottie lies about him. The connection is pretty straightforward; Dottie deals with her trauma and pain by covering them up with pretty little lies and melting truths until they fit the shape she wants them to be in. Everything she says in this episode is bullshit.

(points up) THIS INCLUDED, BTW. This is the Ted that Dottie wants him to be, the guy who will fall on his sword at the first sign of someone else's discomfort.

But that isn't who Ted is anymore and Dottie saying this is vicious and cruel. It's disrespectful to Rebecca, to everyone at Richmond, and to the work Ted's done with Sharon.

which oooooooooh

hey, anyone else remember Ted's "I love meeting people's moms, it's like an instruction manual on why they're nuts" from S2? boy that's a brick joke

and this bit of dottie saying her anxiety re: ted's therapy out loud, that hissing sound is a fuse being lit in this moment

Ted calls her out directly. He knows how she operates because she raised him in her own image. As I noted in the other post, Leslie Higgins is not the only feminine junior at Richmond, so is Theodore Lasso, son of Dorothy Lasso.

THAT FUCKING DARK CHUCKLE, THE "YEAH OKAY" MOMENT this is the fuse finally reaching the dynamite

this is the moment, this moment of push-back, implicitly the first time Ted's ever pushed back in his life

this is the moment Dottie takes every single thing she knows about Ted, everything she put into him, and she destroys his fucking life with the exact four words it would take to make Ted give up everything he's worked for, all so he'll go back to being what she expects from him.

and hell if he doesn't know it.

everything he's done for himself, all the space he's finally allowed himself to fill, the progress and labor he's put into becoming a better person

mom shows up and tells him no, you're coming back.

(and the fact Dottie Lasso, a character who has not said five truthful things this entire episode, tells us how someone else feels should be questioned very fucking directly. i don't trust this woman to honestly report on Henry's opinion of peanut butter and jelly, let alone if he wants his father to give up his life and return to Kansas. i know every single fic has brought up the question of "hey why doesn't anyone ask Henry what he wants" but that's because SOMEONE needs to ask the question instead of taking Dorothy fucking Lasso's word for it, christ)

I don't know how tf you don't read this show as a tragedy. Dottie Lasso is incredible, she's so pitch-perfectly written and acted, and she's absolutely the final boss of the show. And Ted doesn't win that fight.

hell THE SHOW SAYS THE QUIET PART OUT LOUD, i would put the screencap here but I've run out of images, but THEY FUCK YOU UP, YOUR MUM AND DAD, THE SHOW SAYS IT this is a fantastic tragedy, i love it

[sci-twi]

I think the most tragic part of Eurylochus’ part in Epic is that his one act of true selfishness (or two acts) are what condemns him not only in the eyes of Odysseus but also most of the audience. Warning: spoilers for all sagas of Epic: The Musical below the cut, up through Thunder Saga.

He’s introduced in the musical in Full Speed Ahead by mentioning wanting to find food to feed the rest of the men of the crew. In the same song, he grows defensive immediately after suspecting a lurking threat, suggesting that they take an offensive approach. He just wants to find what they can (to eat) on the island and keep going so they can all return to their families.

In Polyphemus, his only line in the entire song is him giving credit to Odysseus and Polites for finding the cave and takes note that there are enough sheep to feed everyone.

I have no doubt that he’s fighting along with everyone else in Survive.

But he shows his concern for the others in Remember Them. He is the one who snaps Odysseus out of the brief dissociation he experiences following the slaughter of a handful of his men. He also asks Odysseus what they should do with their “fallen friends.” Of course, we know that if people weren’t buried correctly, they were doomed to an eternity of unrest.

He’s worried about the souls of those men that they lost and is (most likely) not happy about having leave them behind and neglecting such an important ritual.

When Polyphemus awakens after being stabbed in the eye and it becomes apparent that there are more cyclopses in the cave, Eurylochus gets even more concerned and antsy, even pleading with Odysseus for them to just run before things get worse and they lose even more men.

In Storm, Eurylochus’ lines are all about expressing concern for their fleet (although a little pessimistic) and their well-being.

Luck Runs Out is personally one of my favorites and one of the most obvious signs that almost everything Eurylochus does is for the sake of their crew. The entire song is about him looking out for everyone else including Odysseus. “You could be caught off guard and lose your life. Or piss off this guard and infuse us with strife.”

It’s also important to note that the chorus has Eurylochus and the crew singing in unison. Eurylochus expresses his doubts but not because he wants power or to just get under Odysseus’ skin, but because he genuinely cares about everyone on board and just wants to make sure they’re making the right decisions.

And honestly, as a second-in-command, he should get some say or consultation and perhaps this song is him starting to realize that he is not being heard.

“I just don’t want to see another life end. You’re like the brother I could never do without.”

“And suddenly you doubt that I could figure this out?”

This right here is where it becomes apparent to me how dedicated Eurylochus is to Odysseus and the crew. And I can only imagine how he feels after pouring his heart out to only be met Odysseus’ indignant response. Eurylochus wasn’t trying to challenge Odysseus’ authority, but his response is defensive regardless.

Eurylochus switches from referring to him as brother back to referring to him as Captain, maybe sensing that sort of division, maybe sensing that he overstepped in some way. But still, he reiterates his concerns once more before Odysseus pulls him aside.

When Odysseus tells him that he needs to always be devout and comply with whatever he says and tells him to do or else they’ll all die, Eurylochus ultimately agrees. The beginning of that reluctance shows.

He doesn’t really have many noticeable lines in Keep Your Friends Close, but I do want to give you some food for thought that my partner and I @cat-gwyn-gunn discussed. Do you think that Eurylochus would have opened the bag of winds if Odysseus entrusted him with it to guard and made it absolutely clear what is inside and what will happen if he does?

How would you feel if you were your captain’s supposed second-in-command who had led the fight with you and stood by your side for 12 years suddenly came back from a god with a mysterious bag and guards it while staying awake for 9 entire days? Does that not show a severe lack of trust in your crew and would that not make you suspicious? Do you think maybe Eurylochus was sort of egged on by the crew who also thought it was treasure to check?

It’s hard to really put yourself into their shoes because we know how things end and we know that the storm is actually trapped in the bag, but they don’t.

Then, Poseidon comes in Ruthlessness. And Eurylochus sees all those men die. They went from 600 men to just 43 men. While of course he feels guilty for his decision to open the bag, he’s also hearing confirmation that Odysseus is the reason that Poseidon is after them. He probably remembers begging his Captain to just run and escape, and instead Odysseus proceeds to dox himself and all of that leads to that moment.

But still… that guilt does do something. Because after opening the wind bag, we don’t really hear any sort of defiance from Eurylochus for a long time.

In Puppeteer, we get an even further look at this growing divide between the two brothers (in-law). Eurylochus wants so desperately to let Odysseus know what he did, his tone is remorseful, he’s practically pleading for Odysseus to acknowledge him and reassure him. He is incredibly shaken after what happened with Poseidon.

Only for Odysseus to completely wave him off and send him on a mission. Perhaps it’s because Odysseus needs some time to process what happened and strategize or maybe he thinks Eurylochus is going to talk about it and he’s not ready to hear any of it. Or maybe even he’s jumping to being defensive, thinking Eurylochus is defying him again.

Eurylochus, who promised Odysseus that he’d be devout and compliant, and whose one failure to do so attributed to the loss of hundreds of their men, agrees to do what Odysseus says with little fight. However, his fears and concerns are left unaddressed and unacknowledged and he has not received any sort of reassurance.

While he is recounting his (and the crew’s) encounter with Circe, it shows that he is cautious in his decision to not join their men inside with her. Which pays off, since he gets to run back and let Odysseus know what happened.

When Odysseus says that he has to save them and Eurylochus says that they don’t, it almost sounds dismissive, like those men deserved what happened and they’re no longer their problem. This is a cold take and there’s no defending his callousness with leaving the men behind- I won’t defend it.

However, I will point out that with the next line he points out that they’ve already lost so much and gained almost nothing and once more he suggests that they run if only to preserve what little crew they have left. And again shows concern for Odysseus (or at the very least concern for him as their Captain who can get them home) saying that he doesn’t need to play Circe’s game and asking him if he will leave if she proves too hard to kill.

Notice that he says Odysseus doesn’t have to play her game instead of outright telling him not to. He’s trying so hard to be compliant because he just saw what happens when he isn’t.

He might also be wanting to avoid being responsible for even more bloodshed and loss even if slightly.

Eurylochus doesn’t really have any more parts to play during the rest of the Circe saga and throughout the entirety of the Underworld saga. He’s essentially not only just doing what Odysseus tells him to do but he’s also holding onto all this awful guilt and shame for what he did. 

Underworld is almost entirely Odysseus’ point-of-view. We really just see into his world for this saga. He tells his men that no matter what they find, keep going, yet he falls victim to the voices he hears and the guilt that arises and eventually peaks. We have no idea really what anyone else is thinking. For all we know, Eurylochus is drowning in his own visions. He has all this time to think and reflect.

In Monster, Odysseus comes to the conclusion that he will become the monster, he will do whatever it takes to get home to Penelope and Telemachus. I don’t think it’s a stretch to believe that Eurylochus also comes to the conclusion that he will do whatever it takes to make sure that the crew is taken care of and preserved. This is the beginning of when that line that truly divides them starts to be drawn. 

Different Beast is when it starts to become clearer to the crew and Eurylochus that a change has occurred. They start the song by singing along with Odysseus, using “we” and “us”. Odysseus is driving them all to be monsters. His actions are being reflected on the crew as a whole as their Captain.

Odysseus tells the siren that his actions almost cost his life, no longer reflecting on the crew’s toll as a whole, and that he must see his wife. This is when the crew starts to sing that “he” is the monster. And they end by calling his name- confirming that they are now aware that the monster is Odysseus. Really the only times someone’s name is called is when they’re an opponent like Polyphemus or Poseidon. So foreshadowing!

Scylla is where things take a turn for the worse- it’s where that line is nearly fully drawn between Odysseus and Eurylochus. But it doesn’t start off that way. Scylla begins to sing that “deep down you hide a reason for shame.” Immediately after, Eurylochus admits to being the one to open the wind bag and he apologizes profusely and pleads to be forgiven. 

Odysseus doesn’t respond but Scylla does in a way. She continues to goad Odysseus into believing that his actions are merited. It’s what he must do to survive to see his wife and son again. He has always known this deep down- he said it in Just A Man - deep down he would trade the world to see his son and wife.

The next time Odysseus speaks, he tells Eurylochus to light up six torches. Now, I imagine that this is a moment of great relief for Eurylochus. Even after the awful betrayal, Odysseus still trusts him. Going back briefly to Circe when she says “maybe showing one act of kindness leads to kinder souls down the road” maybe this (Odysseus showing trust in Eurylochus) was the act of kindness and Eurylochus picks men he trusts and likes to hold the torches as a way to pass on that kindness. 

Then, all hell breaks loose. 

He watches as all of these men are snatched up one by one by Scylla’s six heads. He comes to the realization that Odysseus knew that was going to happen, that he made him actively participate in the murder of six of their men. That he didn’t communicate anything about what he was about to put his crew through. 

Eurylochus knows what he must do. 

In Mutiny, He goes right out and demands Odysseus to tell him that he didn’t not know that would happen which is a far cry from “please don’t tell me you’re about to do what I think you’ll do.” It’s a direct challenge. He spits out the word “Captain” almost mockingly. He continues to prod at Odysseus, telling him to use his wits (when in Luck Runs Out, he said that people die on it). He brings up that every other time they faced someone Odysseus came up with a plan to save his men, but this one time he runs (when before it was Eurylochus who urged him to run with both Circe and Polyphemus). 

He has pretty much lost trust in Odysseus, but still is trying to give him the opportunity to say something, to explain. However, when Odysseus says he can’t Eurylochus says he’s forced his hand. He doesn’t really want to fight Odysseus, let alone kill him. 

Once again, Eurylochus is the voice of the crew. They know now that Odysseus is willing to do absolutely anything to see Penelope again. They attack him. They voice their doubts in him and echo the sentiment that Eurylochus does which is that Odysseus must be stopped. 

When he awakens, and they’re on the island, Eurylochus is the first man he sees and Eurylochus no longer sounds angry. He uses “we” and “us” telling Odysseus that hunger is so heavy in the crew. Voicing their concerns again. Looking out for them again. 

He holds no malice for Odysseus. He’s resigned; he has lost complete hope in returning home. All he wants is to share one last meal with his brother and friend and the crew. 

He switches to just using “I” stating that he is suffering, he is hungry, he is tired. This is one of the first times (if not the first) where he lets it known what his own desires and complaints are. Every other time it’s been on behalf of the crew. He’s being selfish. He knows this, but he’s so overwhelmed and hopeless that he’s willing to make this impulsive decision. 

Odysseus continues to respond to Eurylochus’ pain with only thoughts of himself. He says that he needs to get home, he pleads with just him. But then the crew comes in and echoes Eurylochus’ sentiments. Odysseus addresses the crew this time, switching to “we” can get home. He knows that he’s fighting a losing battle, that the crew is essentially listening to Eurylochus now, that they don’t trust him. 

And with Eurylochus’ action he declares that he’s just a man. He’s selfish. He’s hungry. He’s tired. He’s suffering. He makes mistakes. He can’t always just push through. He’s flawed.

And when Eurylochus hears the panic in Odysseus’ voice (which panic is not something he has shown before: he’s dissociated/been in shock, been angry, and desolate but never panicked) he realizes what he’s done. He immediately reverts back to seeking Odysseus’ guidance as his Captain. He calls for him by his title.

He’s relinquishing control, but it’s too late at this point.

Thunder Bringer closes out their portrayals of betrayal and brother's final stand arc with Zeus rubbing it in Odysseus’ face that his crew’s hunger is his responsibility. That as their King and Captain, he failed them so badly that they resorted to damning themselves to alleviate that hunger. He’s the one who drove them to mutiny. 

Zeus tells him to choose and the crew already knows what he’s going to pick. They realize now that the monster was with them all along, that Odysseus has come full circle to being the true monster. After they sing their piece and Zeus fills Odysseus’ ears with Penelope’s song, there’s a deafening silence as the decision is being made. 

Eurylochus breaks that silence, calling out one more time. He calls for his Captain but in his voice he’s calling out to his friend. He’s scared. He knows they’re going to die. It’s almost like they’re children. He’s making that final reach for reassurance that he already knows he won’t receive. There is nothing but resignation in his voice. 

When Odysseus confirms his choice, saying that he has to see his wife again, all Eurylochus has to say is “but we’ll die.” Again, he’s scared. He was willing to die over the cow, but that was an impulsive decision. It is very different when imminent death is staring you right in the face and especially when it’s at the hand of someone who you thought you knew and cared for. 

I imagine that as the rest of the crew rushes forward to strike Odysseus down, Eurylochus stays behind and just looks him straight in the eye. He knew all along who Odysseus would choose and he has accepted it. 

It comes full circle. Eurylochus came in as the voice of the crew and he died as the voice of the crew.

[cece693]

Kiss, Marry, Kill

pairing: jasper hale x male reader tags: human reader, jasper being hurt over small things, Emmett being his joking self, party games, crack fic?

Streamers of gold and cream swirled from the high ceiling of the Cullens’ mansion, and the soft glow of fairy lights made everything look like a magical dreamland—well, at least to your human friends, who couldn’t stop gawking at the place. For you, it was home away from home. After all, you spent so much time here with Jasper that the polished floors and glittering chandeliers had become more familiar than your own dorm room.

Still, tonight felt different. It was your birthday—the last you’d celebrate with a beating heart. Next year, you’d be fully immortal, forever attached to Jasper’s side. But first, you had a party to survive.

You had just finished eating a perfect slice of birthday cake (courtesy of Esme’s unwavering drive to make it tasty for even someone who despised cake) when Jessica's voice boomed across the music:

“Birthday boy! Get over here! We need you!”

Her tone made you freeze. You recognized that brand of enthusiasm. It usually meant trouble or embarrassing party games. With a resigned sigh, you left the comfort of the food table and found Jessica huddled in the living room with Angela, Mike, and a handful of other curious onlookers.

“We’re playing Kiss, Marry, Kill,” Jessica announced, flipping her hair as if she was unveiling some grand plan. “And you’re up first!”

Your stomach sank like a stone in a lake. An array of wide, excited eyes turned your way, including Mike’s—who offered a sheepish wave. You prayed to whatever powers exist that Jasper wasn’t within earshot. “C’mon, Jess,” you said, forcing a laugh. “Don’t you think I’m too old for this?”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re twenty-one, not eighty-one! Besides, Emmett is all fired up just hearing about it.”

You heard a low chuckle from across the room. Emmett, leaning casually by the DVD shelf, flexed his biceps with a wink. Rosalie smacked his arm in mock annoyance. Great—there went your hopes of keeping this discreet.

“Alright, fine,” you relented, your cheeks heating. “Let’s get this over with.”

Jessica cleared her throat dramatically and raised a tiny notebook where she’d jotted down names. “So, Kiss, Marry, Kill…” She paused, letting the suspense build. “Mike, Emmett, and Tyler!”

You snorted. Of course she’d drag Emmett in. And Tyler? The guy who you briefly had a fling with before getting with Jasper? Oh boy, now you desperately hoped Jasper wasn't even in the house.

“Okay,” you began slowly. “Let me, uh…weigh my options…”

Immediately you thought of killing Tyler. No way would you announce you'll hypothetically kiss or marry him, it was tough enough to break your friends-with-benefits relationship. You didn't want to give him false hope when that ship has sailed. Mike was potentially clingy, might send you heart-shaped candies on Valentine’s Day with bad puns, but he was overall harmless. And Emmett, there would never be a boring day in your life, it was Rosalie you were worried about. She'll definitely kill you if you even dared to steal him away.

As these thoughts zipped through your mind, you realized the circle of friends was waiting with bated breath. “Alright,” you said, “if I have to choose, I'll kiss Mike…”you said, pointing lamely in his direction.

You heard him choke on a soft, “Really?”

Rolling your eyes, you glanced at Emmett, who was now wagging his eyebrows. "I'll marry Emmett. He’s entertaining, funny, strong, and got a great sense of humor..." you rattled off, trying not to laugh as Emmett bounced in his spot like a child. “You hear that, Rosie? I’m marriage material!” Rosalie simply rolled her eyes.

"And I'll kill Tyler. No offense man, but you did almost take out Bella with that van years ago, so maybe it's karmic justice. Rest in peace.”

While your friends erupted into laughter, especially at the idea of your 'marriage' with Emmett, you maneuvered your way through the crowd, itching to find Jasper. While it was merely a game, you knew it would rub your cowboy the wrong way to hear you'll marry his brother. Looking everywhere for him—his room, the kitchen, the living room, hell, even the bathroom—you had just returned to the kitchen where Edward suddenly flashed in front of you.

“Jeez, Edward!” you exclaimed, pressing a hand to your chest. “I'm still human, remember?"

He just shrugged with a knowing smile. “He’s in Carlisle’s study. I’d go talk to him if I were you.”

His expression told you everything you needed to know—Jasper was not in a good mood. With a nod, you headed toward the study, ducking under a few gold streamers.

You found Jasper sitting at Carlisle’s desk, arms folded, staring intently at the wall. His blond hair fell into his face, casting shadows across his darkening eyes. The moment you stepped in, he flicked his eyes up, then away, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to see you or avoid you.

“Jazz?” you said softly, closing the door behind you. “Want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

His expression darkened as he let out a humorless laugh. “Don’t act like you don’t know. I heard everything. You’re apparently planning to marry Emmett now.” Though the jealousy stung your heart, his wording was so ridiculous you almost snorted. But one look at his face told you laughter would not help.

“It was a joke, Jazz. You know that.”

His Southern drawl grew sharper. “A joke, sure, but it sounded pretty convincing. You did have reasons lined up for why Emmett would be such a great husband.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re serious right now?”

He held your gaze, frustration and hurt swirling in those golden irises. “If you wanna go marry him, go ahead,” he said bitterly. “It’s your birthday; maybe that’ll be my gift to you—freedom from me.” You took a breath, forcing yourself not to snap back. He was centuries old, but that didn’t stop him from occasionally having the emotional meltdown of a teenager.

“Jasper, you know I love you,” you said, voice cracking slightly. “The only reason I said I’d marry Emmett is because Tyler and Mike are the other two options. And I definitely wasn’t going to marry them.”

He ran a hand through his honey-blond hair, exasperation evident. “Still. Hearing you talk about Emmett like that…it wasn’t pleasant.”

“I’m sorry, but in the game, someone had to be Marry. And I—”

A loud creak announced a third party: Emmett barged in, wearing the dopiest grin. “Hey, fiancé!” he crowed, waggling his eyebrows.

Jasper’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Emmett, I’m really not in the mood.”

Emmett tossed his hands up. “Okay, big guy, cool it. I just wanted to see if the wedding was still on or if I should start ripping up the invitations.”

You blushed furiously. “Emmett, get out!”

He laughed but obeyed, tossing a mock salute as he backed out, calling down the hallway, “Hey, Rosalie, we’re canceled… I mean, no, I’m not actually…It was a joke—don’t give me that look!”

When Emmett finally left, the door clicked shut, leaving you and Jasper alone again. You watched him quietly for a moment, noticing how his shoulders slumped with residual tension. “I’m sorry,” you repeated, stepping closer. “You mean everything to me—this game was Jessica’s silly idea, and I just got roped in. I swear, I never would’ve said it if I knew it’d hurt you.”

His jaw worked, and you could see he was trying to contain the waves of jealousy. You placed a tentative hand on his arm.

“I chose Emmett mostly for comedic effect, okay? Mike is…Mike, and I have history with Tyler. If I’d said I’d marry him, I’d be sleeping with one eye open. Emmett was the lesser evil.”

A flicker of amusement ghosted across his face—very brief. “So, you really don’t wish you had a ring from Emmett?”

You nearly laughed. “God, no. I’m sure Rosalie would kill me if I tried. And I only want your ring, anyway.”

He exhaled, some of the tension leaving his posture. Carefully, you slid your arms around his waist, feeling his cool body against yours. “You’re the one I want,” you insisted. “Always. Soon, we���ll be bonded forever—vampire to vampire. That’s bigger than a wedding.”

His eyes softened, and you could tell he was tuning into your sincerity—possibly even reading the waves of guilt and affection roiling off you. “I’m sorry I overreacted,” he said quietly, pressing his forehead to yours. “I just…don’t like the idea of sharing you.”

The door swung open again, this time revealing Alice, Bella, and Edward peeking inside—like a cluster of meddling siblings. “Are we good here?” Alice asked, twirling a piece of confetti between her fingers. “Because the party’s over, and I’m thinking of scheduling a no-more-dumb-games vow for the next birthday.”

Bella attempted a sympathetic smile. “We tried telling Jessica that it might not be the best idea.”

“Also, Emmett’s writing up a wedding registry,” Edward piped in, wry amusement in his tone. “You might want to stop him before he goes too far.”

Jasper let out a disgruntled sigh, rising from his seat. “I’ll put a stop to that.” You followed him out, hand in hand. The tension of the evening lingered in the air, but the weight was lifting, replaced by relief and some lingering embarrassment.

Back in the foyer, Emmett was dramatically dictating a registry list to Rosalie, who stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Definitely want a waffle iron, and maybe a lifetime supply of hair gel for the big day—”

Jasper cleared his throat, and Emmett turned to see the two of you standing there. “Aww, the happy couple!” he teased, pressing his hands together.

“Emmett, enough,” Jasper hissed, though you could see the glint of amusement in his eyes.

Rosalie rolled her eyes and swatted Emmett with a leftover balloon. “You’re impossible.”

You let out a chuckle and caught Jasper’s eye. The corners of his lips lifted in a soft smile—an olive branch of sorts.

Alice, never one to miss a cue, fluttered over. “Now that the crisis is averted, how about we officially call it a night? There’s more cake on the table if you want it, but I doubt you do,” she teased, knowing full well none of the Cullens would partake.

“I might,” you joked. “Still human, remember?”

Jasper slid an arm around your waist, leaning down to press a cool kiss to your temple. “You might be human now,” he whispered, “but soon enough, we’ll have our forever.”

You smiled, heart full and light. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”