#yes i am painfully american

[ollie-monster]

In Gaza, a child is not really a child. Our eight-year-old son, Yazzan, has been talking about fetching his toys from the ruins of our house. He should be learning how to draw, how to play soccer, how to take a family photo. Instead, he is learning how to hide when bombs fall.

I don’t want to hug anyone, because I don’t want to believe that I am leaving them. I kiss my parents and shake hands with my siblings, as though I am only going on a short trip. What I am feeling is not guilt but a sense of unfairness. Why can I leave and they cannot? We are lucky that Mostafa was born in the U.S. Does it make them less human, less worthy of protection, that their children were not? I think about how, when we go, I may not be able to call them, or even find out whether they are alive or dead. Every step we take will take us away from them.

We are about to pass the checkpoint when a soldier starts to call out, seemingly at random. “The young man with the blue plastic bag and the yellow jacket, put everything down and come here.” ... They’re not going to pull me out of the line, I think. I am holding Mostafa and flashing his American passport. Then the soldier says, “The young man with the black backpack who is carrying a red-haired boy. Put the boy down and come my way.” He is talking to me.

The soldiers blindfold me and attach a numbered bracelet to one wrist. I wonder how Israelis would feel if they were known by a number. Then someone grabs the back of my neck and shoves me forward, as though we are sheep on our way to be slaughtered. I keep asking for someone to talk to, but no one responds. The earth is muddy and cold and strewn with rubble. I am pushed onto my knees, and then made to stand, and then ordered to kneel again. Soldiers keep asking in Arabic, “What’s your name? What’s your I.D. number?”

One by one, we are forced into a truck. Someone who is not moving lands on my lap. I fear that a soldier has thrown a corpse onto me, as a form of torture, but I am scared to speak. I whisper, “Are you alive?” “Yes, man,” the person says, and I sigh with relief. When the truck stops, we hear what sound like gunshots. I no longer feel my body. The soldiers give off a smell that reminds me of coffins. I find myself wishing that a heart attack would kill me.

Another man, maybe talking to himself, says quietly, “I need to be with my daughter and pregnant wife. Please.” My eyes fill with tears. I imagine Maram and our kids on the other side of the checkpoint. They don’t have blankets or even enough clothes. I can hear female soldiers, chatting and laughing. Suddenly, someone kicks me in the stomach. I fly back and hit the ground, breathless. I cry out in Arabic for my mother. I am forced back onto my knees. There is no time to feel scared. A boot kicks me in the nose and mouth. I feel that I am almost finished, but the nightmare is not over.

When we exit the truck and my name is called, I am temporarily given my I.D. card. I feel a prick of hope. Maybe they are going to release us. Inside a building, my blindfold is pulled off. A soldier is aiming an M-16 at my head. Another soldier, behind a computer, asks questions and takes a photo of me. Another numbered badge is fastened to my left arm. Then I see the doctor, who asks whether I suffer from chronic diseases or feel sick. He does not seem interested in my pain. Back at the detention center, blindfolded again, we kneel painfully for hours. I try to sleep. A man moans nearby; another is hopeful that he will get to go back to the doctor. Late in the evening, a soldier calls my name. The shawish leads me to the gate, and a jeep comes to take me away.

When I wake, a soldier says something in English that I cannot believe. “We are sorry about the mistake. You are going home.” “Are you serious?” Silence. “I will go back to Gaza and be with my family?” “Why wouldn’t I be serious?” Another voice chimes in: “Isn’t this the writer?” Back at the detention center, as I fall asleep, I think about the words “We are sorry about the mistake.” I wonder how many mistakes the Israeli Army has made, and whether they will say sorry to anyone else.

On Tuesday, about two days after I left the school, the man with the megaphone teaches us how to say good morning in Hebrew. “Boker Tov, Captain,” we say in unison. Some new detainees have arrived in an enclosure nearby, and the soldiers overseeing them seem to be having fun. They sing part of an Arabic children’s song, “Oh, my sheep!,” and order the detainees to say “Baa” in response.

After an hour, some soldiers approach. One has my I.D., and another drops a pair of slippers for me and tells me to walk. Then one of them says, “Release!” I am so overjoyed that I thank him. I think about my wife and children. I hope that my parents and siblings are alive. I spend about two hours at the place where I was interrogated, with the Hebrew music. I am given some food and water, but the soldiers never find my family’s passports. I climb into a jeep, surrounded by soldiers. After two hours, I can see around my blindfold that we are getting close to Gaza.

The soldiers get out, smoke, and return fully armed, wearing their vests and helmets. I am thinking about the man I recognized in line, and what he said about human shields. I am starting to wish that I could go back to the detention center when they give me my I.D. card. Standing against a wall, I tell the closest soldier that I am scared. “Do not feel scared. You will leave soon.” My handcuffs are cut, and the blindfold is removed. I see the place where I had to take my clothes off. When I see new detainees waiting there, sadness overwhelms me.

I take off my slippers and start to run. Passersby are staring, but I don’t care. Suddenly, I spot an old friend, Mahdi, who once was the goalkeeper on my soccer team. “Mahdi! I’m lost—help me.” “Mosab!” We hug each other. “Your wife and kids are at the school next to the college,” he says. “Just turn left and walk for about two hundred metres.” I cry as I run. Just when I start to worry that I have lost my way, I hear Yaffa’s voice. “Daddy!” She is the first piece of my puzzle. She seems healthy, and is eating an orange. When I ask where the rest of the family is, she takes my hand and pulls me as if I were a child.

I learn from Maram how lucky I was. She used my phone to inform friends around the world, who demanded my safe release. I think about the hundreds or thousands of Palestinians, many of them likely more talented than me, who were taken from the checkpoint. Their friends could not help them.

#endisraelsgenocide #Free Palestine #and these are just highlights. #if you go to the link - #you can read or hear the whole story

[pulisicsgirl]

spaces between us - christian pulisic

summary: Y/N and Christian's relationships has been strained lately due to conflicting schedules and minimal effort to spend time with one another. Y/N's plan to talk to Christian about it goes awry and drives the couple further apart from each other.

pairing: Christian Pulisic x reader

word count: 5.3k

warnings/tags: angst and arguing (but it turns out okay in the end don't worry), Christian is a little bit of a dick, Y/N is a little bit overdramatic, but also sickening fluff, Christian is a lovesick twat, use of the phrase "whooping and hollering" (I'm sorry, I'm painfully American), hasty proofreading (because I’m posting this at 3 am and I have classes tomorrow morning), and like one suggestive comment

requested: yes!!!

notes: thank you so so much to @chelseagirl98 for sending this request in!! I had so much fun writing it, and I hope it lives up to your expectation! I tried a little something new with the text messages, so let me know what you think of that! Also, I think this is my first time writing a fight/make-up fic like this, so it might not be very good, but I welcome any constructive criticism! :)

As always, requests are still open! Send any ideas my way! 💙

You moved quickly around the kitchen, juggling bowls and ingredients as you did your best to prepare a homecooked meal to surprise Christian with when he got home from training. It wasn’t anything all that special, and you weren’t a five-star chef by any means, but you were trying your hardest—and that had to count for something, right?

For the last several weeks, you had sensed a distance forming between you and Christian. With his busy life as a footballer and your inconsistent work hours, it had been difficult to find time to see one another. On the rarer days that you were home together in the evening, you were both exhausted, quickly finding something to eat (often some takeout delivery that you ordered online) before setting things in order and going straight to bed. You couldn’t remember the last time you and Christian had just sat down to spend time together, sharing a conversation with any amount of substance.

After a particularly bitter morning where the two of you had moved around each other in the kitchen and bathroom without sharing a word or interacting almost at all, you had miraculously gotten out of work early. Deciding that enough was enough, you ran to the store to pick up some ingredients, resolving to cook a nice meal that you and Christian could sit down and eat together. You hoped it would give you a chance to catch up after the last few weeks of simply living in the same house but not truly being together.

It took you about an hour, but you completed the recipe successfully. As you turned off the burner on the stove and began dishing the food onto plates, you heard the jingle of Christian’s keys as he walked through the front door.

“Babe?” you called out. You listened for his footsteps as they rounded the corner into the kitchen. He was looking down as he came into your view, eyes locked on something on his phone screen. “Hey,” you addressed him uncertainly, wiping your forehead from the heat that had built up in the kitchen from the hour you had spent cooking. Your voice cause his head to snap up to look at you.

“Hey, babe,” he smiled, glancing back at his phone quickly before he turned it off and shoved it in his pocket. He walked around the kitchen island and pulled you into his side, kissing the top of your head. “What’s all this?”

You couldn’t help but feel a little bit disappointed, hoping for a little more than a side-hug and a kiss on the head from your boyfriend after not seeing him all day. You tried to brush the feeling off.

“I made dinner!” you replied, a hopeful tone to your voice. You pulled from his side to grab his plate, handing it to him.

“Oh thank goodness,” he took a whiff of the food before walking to the other side of the kitchen island, sitting down in one of the tall chairs. He mumbled a quick, “thanks so much, babe,” before he began devouring the food swiftly.

Again, you tried to brush off the weird feeling that washed over you. You knew he must be hungry after a long day of training—they had even gone a bit late today. You tried to focus on the short expression of gratitude instead as you picked up your own plate, choosing to stand across from him, leaning on the countertop so you could face him while you ate.

The two of you remained there in silence, him scarfing down the food like it was his last meal while you just moved the food around the plate as you stared at it, still feeling uneasy.

You opened your mouth to ask about how training had gone that day, hoping to spark a conversation between the two of you, but movement from the other side of the counter caught you off-guard before you could speak. Having cleaned his plate already, Christian stood from his chair, stepping around it before he pushed it in. He moved to the sink, dropping the empty plate in. He walked behind you, pressing a quick kiss to your temple.

“It was really good, babe. Thank you.” He walked behind you, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “I’m gonna head up to shower.” He stepped to walk out of the kitchen and down the hallway.

“Are you serious, Christian?” You felt the anger finally spilling over in your chest, the heat rising up your neck an into your face. You were beyond frustrated that all of the effort you had gone to had lasted in a five-minute shared silence before he rushed upstairs to shower and go to bed.

Christian turned back around to face you, eyes wide with confusion. You could see him obliviously wracking his brain for what he had done wrong.

“I’m sorry, I can wash my plate,” he spoke quickly as he took two steps back toward the sink before you stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“It’s not about the stupid plate, Christian.” You rolled your eyes at him, and he took a step back from you, surprised by the anger you were displaying. “I went to all this trouble to go get the ingredients and spent all this time to make a home-cooked meal, and all I get is five minutes and ‘it was good, thank you’?”

Christian’s eyes were still wide, taken aback by your reaction. “I’m sorry, it was a really long day. I’m just pretty tired.” The way he said the words made them seem like more of a question.

“You’re always ‘tired’, Christian!” You put air quotes around the word, feeling yourself get more and more worked up about the situation. You felt like now that you were finally voicing your frustrations, all of the emotions were starting to spill over. “You’ve barely spoken to me in weeks! We never see each other anymore, and I’m sick of living in the same house as my boyfriend, but never seeing him!” You began raising your voice without meaning to and you felt your eyes burning with tears. You mentally cursed yourself for crying so easily when you were angry.

“Y/N, I-“

Sensing another excuse coming on, you cut him off. “You didn’t even kiss me goodbye this morning!”

Interrupting Christian and not allowing him to explain himself was a sure way to irritate him, and it immediately put him on the defensive.

“Well, you didn’t kiss me before I left either!” He knew it was a weak defense, but in his frustration, it was the only thing he could come up with. “I’m not the only one in this relationship, Y/N! You could afford to put in a little effort once in a while, instead of just pointing fingers.”

Your mouth fell open in shock at his words, and Christian instantly wished he could take them back, not having meant them at all. “You are unbelievable, Christian. Unbelievable.” You scowled, pushing past him to walk out of the kitchen.

He grabbed your wrist to keep you from walking away, and you shook your head, pulling your arm from his grasp. “No, stop. Come talk to me when you’re ready to act like a half-decent boyfriend.”

You stormed down the hallway to your shared bedroom, slamming the door to the bathroom closed and locking it in case Christian tried to follow you and take back what he had said. Moments later, you heard the doorknob jiggle softly, confirming your prediction.

You felt the tears rolling down your cheeks as you glumly went through your nighttime routine, brushing your teeth, combing out your hair, and washing your face. You tried to ignore your red and swollen eyes from crying as you looked in the mirror.

Once you had finished, you unlocked the door and walked into the bedroom. You did your best to ignore Christian sitting silently on the side of the bed as you walked over to the closet and changed quickly into your pajamas from the night before, scoffing quietly as you realized that it just entailed one of his bigger T-shirts. Nonetheless, you slipped it over your head and flipped the closet light off, closing the door behind you as you exited.

Without a word, you walked to your side of the bed, pulling the sheets and comforter back, crawling in, and covering yourself up, facing away from Christian.

His heart had broken at the sight of your tear-streaked face before you had climbed into the bed. He knew that it was probably best to give you some space for now, so he stood to collect his things and go take his shower. You didn’t miss the soft sigh that left his lips before he stood.

You heard the sound of the bathroom door closing, then the rush of water as he turned the shower on.

You finally allowed yourself to let go, crying out all of the hurt that had built up over the last several weeks. You felt the pain physically in your heart, a hollow feeling in your chest—you were a part of a whole, missing your other half.

It didn’t take long for Christian to finish his shower, and you heard the water turn off. You tried to calm yourself before he left the bathroom, not wanting him to see you in such a weak state after your fight.

A few minutes later, you heard the sound of the bathroom door opening and Christian moving around the room. You did your best to silence your sniffles, but he still heard them, and he felt the painful cracks in his heart tearing open a little further.

You felt the mattress dip behind you as his weight settled into the bed. His arm appeared in front of your body for a moment and you felt him leaning over you to place a soft kiss on your temple.

“Goodnight,” he whispered softly. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you mumbled. As petty as you wanted to be, you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you didn’t say it back to him.

His weight settled into the bed behind you, not daring to pull you into his arms. The light in the room disappeared with the click of the lamp turning off, and the two of you lay there in silence.

A thousand thoughts were running through both of your heads, but you remained on your side with your back turned to him. You wrapped your arms around your torso, attempting to hold yourself for some sort of comfort against the foreign feeling of falling asleep without being tucked into Christian’s side.

*****

Since it was the weekend, the sun was already peeking through the curtains when you awoke. By instinct, you rolled over, reaching toward the other side of the bed, but your hand only landed on the cold, empty sheets. You snapped your eyes open, finding no sign of Christian’s presence, and the memories of your argument from the night before flooded your mind.

You let out a long, frustrated groan, pressing your face further into the pillow. The uneasy feeling that you always had when you and Christian fought settled in your chest, and you spend a few moments staring at the wall, allowing yourself to give in to the self-pity for a moment before getting up to face the difficult situation.

A buzzing sound coming from your bedside table pulled you from your thoughts, and you rolled back over, lazily grabbing your phone from where it was charging. As the screen lit up, you saw that you had a text from Mason.

You dropped your head back on the pillow for a moment with a sigh. Fighting like this wasn’t doing either of you any good—you both knew it, but this was the main problem you two seemed to face. You didn’t fight often, but when you did, you both struggled to get over your own pride and make it up to each other.

You sent the message and threw the sheets off of your legs, deciding to make yourself a cup of coffee and try to wake up. The tiles of the kitchen floor were cold on your bare feet as you walked across them.

You placed your mug under the coffee maker and started it, leaning against the counter. The cold marble touched your back through the thin material of your—well, Christian’s—shirt and the feeling sent a shiver through your body. You tucked your arms around your stomach, trying to find some sense of warmth and comfort in the otherwise bitter morning.

As your thoughts wandered, you found yourself missing the mornings that you and Christian had previously shared in this very kitchen. Lately, you had barely interacted as you moved around each other, making your coffee and packing lunches, barely mumbling a few words to one another. But before all of that, when you had first moved in together, you couldn't get enough of each other in the mornings. You would always find yourself in his arms, standing between his legs as he leaned against the counter. His large hands would run up and down your sides, sometimes finding their way under his shirt that you wore to stroke the bare skin of your back gently. You would nuzzle your face into his neck, inhaling his scent while he pressed a kiss into your hair. The only audible noise was the coffee maker and the steady drip of coffee into the mug as the two of you waited for it to finish brewing. It was the perfect start to every day, and frequently you found yourself getting out of bed earlier than you needed to just so you would have more time to waste, wrapped in Christian’s arms. Even on your days off, when he would still have training, you would get up with him so you could share those brief moments together before he left for the day and you crawled back into bed.

You snapped back to reality, shaking your head to rid it of the daydream you had nearly gotten lost in. The lights seemed to be more dull now that you were left standing in the kitchen on your own, no lover to hold you close and share his warmth.

You rubbed your hands over your arms, attempting to rid them of the goosebumps that has risen up. Your phone lit up with another notification.

 Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion for a moment. It was then that you remembered—Chelsea had a game today. You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face in frustration with yourself—the game had completely slipped your mind.

Clearly, you weren’t completely innocent in the fact that you and Christian hadn’t been spending time together recently.

You grabbed the finished cup of coffee, pouring a bit of creamer in it before you hurried back up to your bedroom to get changed.

You turned the phone’s screen off, tossing it onto your bathroom counter before turning on your shower and stepping in. You tried to move as quickly as possible, hoping to make it to the stadium and set things right before the game began. You knew that Christian didn’t play as well when he was upset, and the last thing you wanted was to be the reason Chelsea’s golden American had a poor performance.

Plus, you selfishly just wanted to be rid of the empty feeling that came with any separation between you and Christian.

When you stepped out of the shower and onto the soft mat, having completely rinsed off, the room was stuffy and the steam had fogged up the mirror. When you checked your phone again, Mason had texted you several minutes before, right after you had jumped in the shower.

You finished getting ready in record time, running out of the front door with your hair still slightly damp, and you prayed that no one noticed how hastily your makeup had been done. You tapped your fingers nervously on the steering wheel as you drove toward Stamford Bridge, the minutes creeping closer and closer to the time for kickoff as you sat in the London traffic.

When you finally arrived, you rushed to the private entrance, sending Mason a short text as you walked to let him know that you had arrived. The face that greeted you was not Mason’s, but one of the security staff that you recognized from your many trips to the Bridge over the last couple of years. He greeted you with a warm smile, explaining that Mason had sent him to fetch you since they were already beginning to leave the changing room and line up for the tunnel walk when he had gotten your text.

The security guard led you through the winding halls of the stadium and up to the box where the family and friends of the team would sit together. You found your way into an empty seat next to Sophia, Kai’s girlfriend, and she greeted you with a warm welcome and a quick embrace.

When you turned your eyes to the pitch, your heart sank as you realized the players were already standing on the field, in position and awaiting the starting whistle. You realized you would have no chance to try to wave to Christian to get his attention before the game started. Unless Mason had told him, he likely didn’t have a clue you were even in the stadium.

You were, however, thankful to see that Christian had still made the starting lineup, despite his run-in with Potter earlier in the morning. But as the whistle sounded out and the boys began moving around the pitch, it quickly became clear that he wasn’t playing up to his usual standard. He seemed to be two steps behind on every play, making sloppy touches that would give possession to the defender. He was in his own head, and it was affecting every move he made on the field.

Sophia and you didn’t talk much through the first half. She knew how intensely you typically watched the matches, but she noticed how quiet you were compared to the lively and rambunctious cheering you usually brought on game day.

When the whistle blew to signal the end of the half, Chelsea was trailing, 1-0. With Christian on the front line unable to focus enough to make a proper play, the entire offense struggled to create opportunities, and the whole team seemed to be lagging.

You watched as Christian walked sullenly toward the tunnel, head hung low. You knew he was frustrated with himself for his performance so far in the game, and you resented the part you had to play in that.

Sophia, noticing the solemn way you looked at your boyfriend, knew that something was off. She draped her arm over the back of your seat, asking you about your somber mood as soon as your attention had shifted away from Christian since he had disappeared down the tunnel. You sighed and began recounting the former night’s event to her in a quiet voice, hoping none of the other family members in the box were listening in. You told her about how Christian had come home, barely eating the dinner you had prepared before trying to leave the kitchen. You told her about the foolish words you had both let fly out of frustration, stupid accusations that neither of you meant. You told her how you were afraid that you and Christian had lost your “spark,” that feeling of never wanting to let the other go that every couple felt when they first got together. You told her that you were afraid that you didn’t know how to get it back.

You hadn’t even realized you were crying until a teardrop splashed on your hand. You used your fingers to wipe carefully under your eyes, trying not to smear the makeup you had hastily put on only a couple of hours before.

Sophia opened her mouth to address your concerns when something caught her eye over your shoulder. You turned to see that the boys were walking out of the tunnel, and you waited impatiently to try to catch a glimpse of Christian.

When he finally emerged, Mason’s arm was slung over his shoulders, holding him close as Mason seemed to be trying to give him words of encouragement. His head was still hung low. Mason squeezed his arm around Christian, turning him to face the stands once they were standing on the pitch, and pointed in your direction. A frown creased his eyebrows as his eyes followed where Mason’s finger was pointing.

When his eyes landed on you, his face softened immediately, the frown vanishing from his expression. His eyes grew big, his arms falling to his sides as he took you in, wearing the blue jersey that he knew bore his name across the shoulders. Mason ruffled his hair with a grin, walking away to let him have his moment, but Christian didn’t pay him any mind, only focused on you.

You raised your hand, giving Christian a shy wave. The faintest of smiles curled his lips, tainted with a hint of sadness. He brought his fingers to his lips, blowing you a short kiss before he moved further onto the pitch. He walked backward for a few steps, still looking at you before he turned and jogged to his starting position for the second half.

Sophia drew the arm that had been draped over the back of your chair back to her side, nudging you gently. She had a grin on her face when you looked over. “Yeah, that spark is still there. Don’t worry,” she reassured. You covered your face with your hand, trying to hide the blush that you knew was covering your cheeks. “You’ve just hit a rough patch. It happens to every couple, especially after you’ve been living together for a while.”

“Really?” you asked hopefully.

“Really,” she smiled. “It happened with Kai and I, too. A few months after he transferred to Chelsea and we moved to London, there was about a month where we barely ever saw each other. It took a screaming match and then us both crying on the floor of the kitchen with a bottle of wine for us to get past it.” The two of you laughed at the story, and you wiped another tear from your face. “But we were stronger after we got through it. And you and Christian will be too, I know it.”

She took your hand in hers and squeezed in an effort to comfort you. “Just remember to be intentional about spending time together. Life will get crazy from time to time, but if you keep pursuing each other, you’ll be okay.”

“Thank you, Sophia,” you smiled genuinely at her. “You really give the best advice.”

“Don’t mention it.” She pulled you into a side hug, over the arm of the stadium seats. As you pulled away from each other, the sound of the whistle rang through the air, and the second half was under way. You took in a big breath, letting it out slowly and praying silently that this 45’ would go better than the first had.

In a matter of minutes, it was clear that Christian was a completely different player than he had been in the first half. He was positioning himself well to make runs, taking much more controlled and calculated touches, and beating his opponents to the ball. Chelsea had made several great plays, pressing up the field and creating several breaks that resulted in near-goals. The whole stadium seemed to be holding its breath, hoping that it was only a matter of time before one of the presses ended with the ball in the net.

It finally happened in the 54th minute. With renewed fervor, the back line moved the ball around the defensive half before Thiago played the ball up the field toward the left wing. Christian broke through the opposing defense, carrying the ball up the line with players right on his heels. With quick feet, he came up to the side of the penalty box, crossing the ball toward the center.

A hush fell over the crowd as the ball floated through the air, toward a mess of players from both teams in the box. You and Sophia leaped to your feet, along with the rest of the audience, watching as the ball landed at Kai’s feet. With a quick touch to settle it, he shot the ball through the maze of defenders into the top corner of the goal. The keeper’s fingers just missed the ball, and the entire stadium erupted in a roar of cheering as the net shook with the ball’s impact.

Kai ran towards the sideline, embracing Christian in celebration, much the same way that you and Sophia clung to one another, jumping up and down as you yelled and cheered.

As the game resumed, Chelsea seemed to have hit their second wind, the game-tying goal driving them in their desire to get another. Several chances were created in the following minutes, the crowd letting out groans at the barely-missed shots that held the potential to propel Chelsea into the lead.

You were starting to get nervous as the game approached it’s last 10 minutes, not wanting the game to end in a draw after Chelsea’s incredible turn-around. You anxiously bit at the skin around your fingernails as you watched.

In the 86th minute, as fans from both sides were beginning to get restless, Reece played a quick ball through the line, Christian sprinting to catch up with it as he broke through the defense and drove quickly down the field. It was a one-on-one between him and the keeper now. He approached the penalty box swiftly as the keeper came out to meet him, trying to force a mistake. But Christian kept his head about him, taking a calculated touch to curve the ball around to the right of the keeper as he dropped to the ground in an attempt to block the shot.

The ball bounced off of the goalpost and across the line. Once again, the fans erupted in a chorus of applause and shouting. Christian sprinted back up the field, coming to stand at the sideline in front of where he knew you were sitting. The rest of the Chelsea boys ran up behind him, embracing him or ruffling his hair in congratulations. Ignoring all of the chaos around him as his teammates whooped and hollered, Christian locked eyes with you, tapping his hand over his heart.

You raised your fist to your lips, pinky pointed up as you kissed your hand. Christian mimicked your action. It was a silly thing the two of you did that had started back when you were still only friends and continued throughout your relationship. You would link your fingers together in a pinky promise, kissing your hands, as a reminder of the promise you made to always be there for each other.

The boys pulled Christian away from the sideline, still thumping him on the back as they yelled in celebration.

The last minutes of the game passed quickly, and Chelsea fans voiced their approval as the final whistle blew, signaling the game’s end in a 2-1 victory for the Blues. The players and staff for both teams made their way onto the pitch, shaking hands cordially, offering words of congratulations to one another, and embracing their own players. You and Sophia moved down toward the barrier that separated the seats from the field, waiting where the boys would usually come to greet their loved ones.

It didn’t take long for Kai to come running over, leaning up to bring Sophia into a sweet kiss. They smiled at each other, sharing quiet words as she congratulated him on his goal. You saw nothing but adoration in their eyes as they looked at one another, and the sight warmed your heart.

Kai looked over to you after a few moments. “Your lover boy will be over here any minute,” he laughed. “As soon as he can get all the guys to stop hounding him for his game-winning goal.” You giggled at his words, eyes still searching through the mass of people for him.

Christian finally emerged, pushing through the crowd in your direction. As soon as he set his eyes on you, he ran the last few yards, arms outstretched to pull you into an embrace. Not caring about the layer of sweat that covered his body, you leaned over the short barrier, wrapping your arms around his neck as your bodies finally met.

Unsatisfied with the space left between you, Christian carefully pulled you over the barrier separating the two of you. You squealed in surprise before he set you on the ground in front of him, still holding your body firmly, refusing to let go of you for fear that you could slip away.

His face was buried in your neck and you brushed your fingers over his damp skin to soothe him. His arms still kept a firm hold on your waist when he pulled back to look at you. His eyes were moist with tears when as he gazed down at you.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I was being stupid, and I never should have—”

“Shhh,” you cut him off, cupping his jaw with your hand. You ran your thumb over his cheekbone as his eyes darted around your face, searching for any reassurance that the two of you were okay after the fight. “I know, Christian. It’s okay.” You saw the relief washing over Christian’s body as he pulled you into a gentle kiss, pressing his lips firmly to yours as he tried to communicate all of the things he was feeling.

“We can talk about everything when we get home, okay?” you asked softly, and he nodded, smiling down at you. “Right now, I just want to tell you how proud I am of you.”

The pink blush immediately painted his cheeks as he grinned sheepishly and hid his face in your shoulder. You giggled at his actions, knowing that he never took compliments well, yet you refused to stop telling him how highly you thought of him. You held the back of his head and felt him place a couple kisses to your shoulder before he stood up to look at your face again.

“I’m sorry I got you all sweaty,” he pulled the long-sleeved compression shirt over his hand, using it to wipe your neck off as you both laughed together.

“It’s fine,” you smiled at him. “You’ll just have to help me wash it off in the shower later.”

He raised his eyebrows, surprised by your suggestive comment as a grin spread across his face.

The two of you waved to Kai and Sophia as Christian took your hand in his, lacing your fingers together as you walked away from them.

He brought your intertwined hands up to his face, kissing the back of yours as you made your way toward the tunnel so you could leave the stadium.

#christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic imagines #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic fics #footballer fic #footballer fics #football imagine #footballer imagines #footballer imagine #christian pulisic #christian pulisic fluff #christian pulisic angst #christian pulisic one shot #christian pulisic blurb

[nikethestatue]

Plot Twist

for my darling beautiful hilariously funny kind and irreverent @impossiblescissorspeachpaper

Happy birthday, my love! I hope you find this familiar and enjoy this gift. This also goes to @tswaney17 because she is the star of this. And all the girlies!

Based on a true story

There he was. The most beautiful man in the world. 

Strong and lean. Muscular. Powerful legs steadily pumping the pedals. Thighs of a Greek god. Arms of a Roman god. Face worthy of a Raphael’s painting. 

He was so handsome, she wanted to cry.

He also paid her exactly zero attention.

She loved this trail and has been jogging around the pond, the hilly slopes, the grassy knolls, and the paths shaded by massive cypresses and oaks for two years now. Bicyclists, frankly, were usually nothing but a nuisance. They sort of tried to stick to their side of the path, but it was like they were just so very important they expected everyone to move and give way. 

Well, she was Elain fucking Archeron, and she wasn’t moving for nobody!

Beep.

Beep-beep.

Beeeeeppp.

She pretended not to hear the annoying sound of the bike bell, but then someone was shouting ‘On your left!’ and she made a panicked swerve to avoid being hit by the cyclist. 

“Dipshit,” her sister Nesta muttered next to her, throwing daggers at the cyclists’ backs, as they rolled smoothly past the two sisters.

“T!” Elain muttered in turn, blushing. 

Nesta, who usually went by T, because she felt that her name was too weird for an average American to comprehend, was sharp and bristly, and would’ve been perfectly fine getting into a shouting match for a bunch of muscular bikers. Elain was…well, not cowardly exactly, but she preferred to think of herself as rational. Yes, she was a rational person who did get into fights with strangers.

She just ogled them.

This one particular stranger.

Pulling her AirPods out of her ears, Nesta threw Elain a withering glance and said, without slowing down, while Elain was beginning to pant.

“Why don’t you just approach him?”

“No way!” Elain exclaimed in horror. “I am not approaching strange men in parks!”

Nesta rolled her eyes and then gritted out,

“Can’t you think of something? Not weird, but just…friendly?”

“No!” Elain wiped her brow, as she attempted to keep pace with her more athletic sister. “Because it’s always weird. It’s like that scene from ‘Get Hard’, where they go to the gay bar brunch and Kevin Hart is instructing Will Ferrell on how to approach a man and ask him to suck dick! And Will Ferrell is like ‘Oh hi, hello. Can I…uh…can I suck your dick?’...”

Nesta was laughing. Elain was ridiculous, but also adorable in her inability to approach men, have conversations with them, or even look at them without being painfully obvious. Elain, her sweet sister, who was pretty as a peony, smart and funny, who wrote excellent fanfiction for her favourite series ‘A Court of Thorns and Roses’ and was a superstar on AO3, who volunteered at dog shelters, and dreamt of brooding dark dominant men, who’d come into her life and sweep her off her feet–Elain had no game. None. 

Nesta wasn’t exactly surprised that the idea of approaching the biking hunk was abhorrent to Elain. She’d never even consider it. 

“Well, it’s that, or Tinder,” Nesta shrugged, her expression somehow fatalistic.

Elain shuddered and shook her head vigorously.

“Why?!” she demanded. “Why can’t I just meet a good man and fall in love,”

“You don’t want to fall in love with a good man,” Nesta argued. “You want to fall in love with a bad boy with knuckle tattoos!”

“No I don’t,” Elain argued prissily, though she was blushing ferociously, and Nesta knew that she hit the spot. “Why would I want someone like that?!”

“Why? Because you think that Zade Meadows is a romantic. And your Pinterest is filled with hot dudes with knuckle tattoos. You literally have a board named ‘Hot Dudes with Tattoos’.”

Elain stared at her sister in abject horror.

“You snooped??!?!” she screeched. “You snooped on my Pinterest?!!?”

“Simmer down. It’s not like I went through your PornHub history! Jeez,” Nesta shook her head.

“I don’t have a PornHub history!” Elain exclaimed.

They were standing in the shade, and Nesta was stretching her long, slender limbs. She didn’t need to stop, but her less fit sister definitely did. Therefore, Nesta pretended like she needed to massage her hamstring and roll her shoulders. 

“El, you need to go after what you want,” Nesta insisted. She knew the conversation was pointless and Elain never would, but it didn’t hurt to remind her. “Listen, you are a 30 year old virgin,”

“I am not a virgin!” Elain’s eyes popped out of their sockets in righteous indignation.

Nesta cocked her brow and put her hands on her hips.

“Uh-uh,”

“Yes! No! I am not a virgin! Also, I am not 30!” Elain yelled. “I am not a virgin!”

Two things happened.

The hot cyclist, and his posse, were just below them, resting and drinking, parked at the curve of the road. Elain’s shouting about the state of her hymen to the whole world solicited sniggers and chuckles, and the hot dude lifted his head and looked up. 

Nesta could see the appeal–he was handsome indeed. Excellent body. A smirk on his lips–which she felt was warranted–as he looked at her sister, while Elain was about to explode where she stood. The rest of the cyclists saluted them, grinning and laughing, and got on their way, while the Hot One lingered behind. He was staring upward, his eyes skimming over Elain’s voluptuous body, gliding over her ample chest and her long slender legs.

The second thing that happened was Elain scrambled backwards, gasping like a fish out of water, staring at him in horror. Before Nesta could make a snide remark about hoping that the Hot One was up for the challenge of deflowering a virgin, Elain tripped on the rocks, slipped and fell on her ass. Her leg shot out in front of her, pushing on a large rock, which skidded down the path and bounced against the dry slope. It was like watching a murder in slow motion. They all saw it. Elain–arms outstretched in silent horror. Nesta, her hand flying to her mouth, while screaming ‘look out’ and then the Hot One being knocked on the head by the rock.

“OHMYGOD!!!!!!!!” Elain screamed violently. “I killed him!”

“Shit, shit, shit,” Nesta took off at once, running as fast as she could down the path, with Elain flailing her arms and hurrying behind her. 

“Is he dead?” Elain wailed loudly, “I killed him!”

“Fuck, I hope not,” Nesta muttered to herself. 

They finally reached the man, who was splayed on the dirt path, arms out, head bleeding.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” Elain clucked incessantly, watching him in horror.

“Yeah, he is gonna need some help,” Nesta decided.

“Am I going to prison? For murder?” Elain cried.

“Well, let’s see if he is dead,”

“He can’t be dead!”

Callously, Nesta murmured, “could be dead…”

“T! What the hell!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have been announcing to the world that you are a freakin’ virgin and none of this would’ve happened!”

Elain dropped to her knees in front of the man and pushed her face to his chest, and her fingers to his neck, feeling and listening for his heartbeat.

“I am not a virgin!” she grumbled angrily.

“Yeah?” Nesta demanded. “And what are you?”

“I’ve had sex!”

“With who?”

“Men! With lots of men!”

“Yeah, okay Mata Hari,”

“He is alive!” Elain declared excitedly, while Nesta was dialling her phone.

“Well, thank god for small miracles. Guess you aren't going to prison after all.”

“Shut up,” Elain pouted.

Smirking to herself, Nesta turned away from her sister and then tossed over her shoulder, “I think he needs mouth to mouth.”

“What?!” 

“Yeah, you know, CPR. Give him CPR. Revive him.”

Unsure, Elain looked down at the unconscious man and murmured,

“But…I…but it’s like kissing…”

“Okay, well, it’s not really kissing, but you’ve had sex with many men, so kissing shouldn’t be an issue for you,” Nesta noted. 

“T!”

“Elain! You might save his life!” Nesta cried out dramatically. The things she had to do to get her sister a boyfriend!

Then, she added, “911 is telling me to give him CPR!”

She was lying of course. 

Reluctantly, Elain crouched over him and wincing, pressed her lips to his.

Someone somewhere was having a good laugh at her expense.

Ha.Ha.Ha.Ha.

This was just hilarious. Her first kiss should be with an unconscious guy who probably got brain damage because of her.

“Deeper!” Nesta urged her on. 

“Deeper?” 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what 911 is saying. Put some…you know…muscle into it!”

Elain frowned, but breathed more air into the man’s lungs. She didn't want to think about how soft his lips were and how he smelled nice–something earthy and citrusy. He definitely took good care of himself, and even clad in all spandex, she could smell the cologne on him. 

“They are on their way,” Nesta said, placing the phone back into her arm pocket. 

She looked down at Elain who was still trying to revive him, and then commented,

“His package is…moderate.”

Elain’s head jerked up and she stared at her sister in disgust.

“What is wrong with you?!” she demanded, “he is half-dead and you are looking at his…his…”

“What?” Nesta teased.

“Penis!”

“Yes. His modestly moderate penis.”

“You are gross!”

“Why isn't he waking up?” Nesta crossed her arms on her chest. “What a wimp.”

In the distance they heard the wailing of a siren.

“I hit him with a rock!” Elain exclaimed, “a boulder!”

“Please. It was a pebble.”

Elain gently smacked his cheek, and then dipped back in to blow more air in his lungs.

“Please wake up…”

With a moan, the man twitched and groaned, and then hissed,

“Who the fuck are you?!”

Taken aback by his tone, Elain quickly explained, “We called an ambulance…I am sorry…I am just trying to revive you,”

“Trying to revive me?” he grunted menacingly. “Maybe don’t fucking throw rocks at me in the first place. No wonder you are a virgin!”

Elain blushed profusely and gasped, “I am sorry?”

Nesta frowned at his tone and stepped forward.

“Simmer down, bud,”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” he snapped, “she threw a rock at me,”

“It was obviously an accident,”

“Yeah, an accident where I have a rock embedded in my head.”

“It’s a scratch. Calm down,” Nesta argued lazily.

“Can I get you anything?” Elain offered softly.

“Yeah, step off, missy,” he suggested and then tried to move, but moaned loudly instead.

“This guys sucks,” Nesta whispered, “I wish we didn’t help him,”

“T!”

“What did you just say?” he glowered at Nesta but she ignored him.

Thankfully, the tense moment was interrupted by four brawny paramedics who were running up the path.

They surrounded the man, asking him questions, taking vitals, looking at the gushing wound on his head which was spewing blood.

Nesta shrugged and said, “Head wounds always bleed a lot.”

“Nesta, he got hit in the head by a rock!” Elain reminded her crossly. “Come on, let’s go. We’ll follow them to the hospital.”

“We have to go to the hospital with him?” Nesta gritted indignantly.

“Obviously!”

The drive to the regional hospital was only fifteen minutes long, during which Nesta was silent, but rolling her eyes excessively.

…”It’s been almost two hours. How much longer do we need to sit here?”

It has been almost two hours. They’ve been sitting in the waiting room, surrounded by some ‘shady people’ in Nesta’s words. She kept trying to guess what was wrong with each individual, proposing things like “definitely herpes!” and “you think a bear attack?” and “oh god, this dude is hacking out a lung!” and “I think the clap!” and “jeez, I hope it’s not ebola”.

Elain was chewing on her nail, her head jerking every time the door opened, as she waited for the cops to come in and arrest her.

“Miss?”

She looked up at the sound of a deep, gravelly voice.

The first thing she saw were big, scarred hands holding an IPad. Large male hands, covered in tattoos. Each finger and knuckle has a symbol of some kind inked into the tanned skin. Looking up, Elain was faced with a man dressed in civilian clothes, but in a blue scrubs coat, which, it seemed, he wore out of expectation, rather than necessity.

“Miss…?” he repeated, and she just stared at him.  Because he was breathtaking.

“Elain,” she answered, her voice hollow, her eyes roaming over the man’s imposing physique and enormous height.

“Mamma mia,” Elain heard Nesta’s breathless whisper behind her.

Mamma mia indeed.

“Miss Elain then?”

“Yeah. Elain,” Elain repeated stupidly.

He smirked and said,

“I am Doctor Azriel King. You came in with Mr. Nolan?”

“What?” she mumbled, unable to tear her eyes away from the stunning beauty of this man, who was all sharp angles and gorgeous hazel eyes, which were a dreamy combination of gold and earthy brown and emerald green. Thick black hair, stylishly cut, crowned this exceptional specimen of raw, aggressive masculinity. Even his neck had tattoos. Elain was beginning to hyperventilate. If she fainted here, would this Dr. King give her mouth to mouth? If she knew he was a doctor here, she’d come here every day to faint!

“Mr. Nolan, Graysen Nolan,” he glanced at the IPad, “you came here with him? He said that you hit him with a rock?”

“Is he going to be okay?”

“Yeah, no concussion. Just a bad cut on his forehead, for which he received stitches.”

A smirk played on his beautiful mouth.

“Mr. Nolan doesn’t tolerate pain very well it seems.”

“Did he cry like a little bitch?” Nesta huffed, standing behind Elain.

“I would say…” he pretended to think for a second and then grinned. “Yeah. Yeah he did.”

Eyes back on Elain, he asked,

“Why did you hit him with a rock?”

“I didn’t!” she said defensively. “I mean, I did, but I didn’t do it on purpose.”

He looked her over, something dark and desirous flashing in his unusual eyes and said sternly,

“You shouldn’t be hitting people with rocks, Elain. Especially your boyfriends."

“Usually I don’t. And he is not my boyfriend! You are a doctor here?” she blurted out and then blushed furiously.

He gave her a slow, languid look, and then drew his thumb over his lower lip, sizing her up in the same manner he would a delicious, sinful meal.

“The hospital is low on staff. I am filling in. I usually travel during forest fire season with smoke jumpers,”

“Oh my god, that’s so dangerous!” Elain gasped.

“Yeah, tell it to my brother Cassian. He’s been a smoke jumper for 7 years. I head their medical team.”

Abruptly, he changed gears, and looked at Nesta.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

Her eyes bugged out and she cried, “Excuse me?!”

“It’s just that you are exactly his type–sharp and beautiful.”

For once, it was Nesta who was out of things to say. She just glared at him in shock.

“She is available!” Elain piped in right away. “She is not seeing anyone. Does he look like you?”

Dr. King laughed softly, and Elain fell in love with the sound at once.

“He sure does. Just brawnier.”

Elain turned to her sister and hissed at Nesta, “his brother looks like him!”

“I…I…I am not going out with a smoke jumper!” Nesta protested feebly.

Dr. King popped his lips and said, “well, you are in luck! This is his last season. We are both done, and he won’t be smelling like a smoked mackerel anymore.”

Elain giggled. That caused him to look back at her, and he drew the tip of his tongue over his lips.

She swallowed. Loudly.

“And you?” he asked.

“What?”

“How serious are you about Graysen Nolan?”

“Who?”

He smiled a savage smile.

“That’s what I thought.”

Extending his scarred hand to her, he ordered, “phone”.

Wordlessly, Elain handed him her phone, courteously unlocking it for him.

He took it and quickly typed something into it.

“Cassian’s number. And mine. Your name, miss?”

“Nesta,” Nesta breathed.

“Perfect. He’ll love it.”

He handed the phone back to Elain and said,

“You and I are going on a date tonight. Seven PM."

She just stared at him in shock.

"I am not a stalker," he assured her lightly, those eyes sparkling with mischief. "Unless you want me to be a stalker?"

"Ummm, not particularly."

"Alright then. Just a bit then. Not Zade Meadows level stalker,"

The expression of shock and bewilderment only intensified on her face.

"You know Zade?" she gasped.

"Well, not personally. He is a character in a book. But I am familiar. So. I shall see you at seven tonight. And every night after that.”

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #nesta archeron #azriel and elain #elain x azriel #Plot Twist #elriel fanfiction #my writing #pro elriel #cassian #elain #my fanfiction

[heart4reigns]

OPERATION: TOGETHER, roman reigns and cody rhodes (iii).

← previous chapter | next chapter →

warnings: curse words, cigarettes, alcohol, the characterization you read in this fic doesn't represent them in real life (please separate fact and fiction)

tags: staring off from roman's perspective!!! yikes, cody painfully trying to befriend (y/n), drunk!(y/n) is a mess and EVIL, the start of a RIVALRY

HE didn't know what went wrong. the champion woke up that day and decided that he was done. roman reigns was on the peak of his successful career and he wouldn't let anyone get in his way. including his own girlfriend (now ex girlfriend) who did nothing but supported him for his career. the thought of breaking up at that moment made him sick, but he had to do it.

months passed and he was still sure he made the right option. roman was busy and didn't see a future for the two of you. the two of you knew that time was your biggest enemy, but you wanted to pull through together. by the time you wanted to fix it, it was too late–he broke up with you.

it broke his heart seeing you wipe away your tears in front of him and then since that, everyone, including him, saw the changes in your personality. work-wise? you were also thriving. mentally? you were a wreck. the first few weeks, roman too, was a mess. but he pulled through, going over his regular schedule (this time without you). he was ready to let you go, but this new ‘friendship’ with rhodes he saw? it got into his head for a bit.

the wrestler brushed it off at first, not thinking about anything but himself. yes, he was still in love with you, but there was no point of getting back together. right now, all he had to do was just keep on going with whatever he had in his life. his career, his family, his fans, and himself–roman knew his priorities. after your argument last time, his heart ached for you.

seeing you lash out on him wasn’t surprising for the tribal chief. maybe he overstepped the line, trying to justify his standings by defending himself. but this version of you scared him. you had nothing to lose, you already lost so much and it was all because of him. an internal conflict started between his heart and his brain.

work came and you were mentally preparing yourself to face the day. you were in another city for smackdown. tomorrow night was the first segment of the bloodline vs american nightmare feud. the bitter taste of coffee went down your throat, keeping you awake. “you’re here!” everyone’s attention turned to you as jey waved from the ring. “yeah, continue whatever you’re doing.” you went over the ropes, not feeling intimidated even though there were 6 men in front of you.

cody was also there, studying his lines. "i was wondering if you were going to come." he said to you. "i am always going to supervise." you replied. "that means we're gonna see each other more often then, what if we become best friends?" he smiled. "just because we get to see each other more often doesn't mean we're going to be friends, cody." he only shook his head in response. "i am starting to get used to your snarky personality."

the tribal chief couldn't help but to study your interaction with cody. he could tell that you were trying to push him away, but he didn't give up on talking to you. "didn't know (y/n) was friends with cody." jimmy commented. "they're not friends, they're colleagues." roman added. "hey, she can have friends too besides us, you know." jey nudged him, trying to get on his cousin's skin as a joke, causing him to laugh.

"hey, did you all come out here just to joke around? move your asses, get to work!" your stern voice filled the arena.

the rehearsal ended, they were ready to go. everyone gathered around you, waiting for revisions. "cody, your shit-talking sounds more like a speech, try to be more provocative. jimmy and jey, same goes to you guys, be more provocative. solo, you're all good. reigns," you paused a second, making eye-contact with him. "learn your lines, you're not new here."

"but i said exactly the same thing as the lines." he furrowed your eyebrows. "you kept on mumbling them. listen, i wrote these lines. i know if you did something wrong." at this point, everyone was side-eyeing the two of you. "okay." for the first time in several months, he didn't fight back. it caught you off-guard. "this is a good story, everyone. i don't want it to flop because your asses can't act."

"you all want to give your best right? then prove it tomorrow night. get some rest and pack it up." they all nodded. "if anyone fucks up, you're no longer dealing with paul, no. not you heyman. you're gonna be dealing with me."

you left the ring, going back to the backstage to monitor the lightings. "damn." jimmy muttered. "i'm scared honestly." jey added. "god, i need a drink." roman sighed in frustration. "me too." solo nodded. "alright, we’re drinking tonight, boys.” it was a cousins night out.

"i'm actually really excited for this storyline." jey said, drinking his tequila on the rocks. "me too, kinda bored out of my mind with tag-team fights." his twin agreed on his statement. "i'm excited to be working with (y/n) again." jey couldn't help but to smile at his own sentence. "dawg, you see her almost every week." jimmy shook his head.

the table went silent as jey mentioned your name. "i'm not blaming it on you uce, but i kinda miss the old (y/n)." jey sighed, recollecting old memories. "yeah, gotta admit feels like something’s missing here..." solo sighed. the mood dropped within seconds. roman only stared into his glass, not knowing what to respond. "i mean, we get it. it's for the best but i miss her too." jimmy continued, feeding fuel to the fire. "there's nothing i can do about it." and he was right, there was nothing roman could do to bring the old you back.

but cody, on the other hand, would do anything to bring this old (y/n) back. he grew curious of the old you. he was in the arena, waiting for you to come out from the camera room. "and why are you still here, cody?" he looked up from his phone, facing your stare. "oh, i was waiting for you! are you done yet?"

“yeah, what’s up?” you raised an eyebrow. “no, i was thinking about giving you a ride back.” this dude never gives up, you thought. “i brought my own car.” “no you didn’t, you told heyman you got into a fight with your uber, i overheard.” you couldn’t help but to crack a small smile. “i can go on my own, thank you though.” cody shook his head. “no, it’s already late and i don’t want you to go back on your own."

so there you were, after 15 minutes of pure arguing, you were in his car. "why do you always decline rides? like you're literally saving 30 dollars here." "fuck you cody, your ruined my plan. i was gonna go solo-drinking." his eyes lit up in excitement. "then let's go! what's stopping you from drinking? me? i drink a lot too!" you immediately shook your head. "no, thanks."

"i'm buying!" "okay, fine."

you went to the nearest bar and it was... kinda sketchy, you thought. but there were no other bars since you were in another city, so you had no options. it wasn't packed, only bike-riders and old men drinking their sorrows out. "table for 2." cody spoke to the waitress. she smiled flirtatiously at him and guided the two of you to the booth. "thanks, pretty girl." he winked at her.

cody rhodes was charming. you couldn't deny that he had a handsome face and a very very fun personality. you knew that he caught everyone's attention, he had a dating history with some of the staffs who worked for you–but it didn't last long as he was a very free-spirited person. he reminded you of your old self in some kind of way.

"what can i get for you today?" he looked at you, waiting for your answer. "can we get 6 shots?" you told the waitress. "is that all?" she replied. "no, cody. order what you want." he chuckled at your ability to drink. "just a beer for me, thank you." he winked at the waitress again. "if you guys need anything, just tell me... i mean anything." she looked at cody.

the drinks were already in front of you and you drank the first shot. one shot down. "god." you muttered, feeling the burning sensation of alcohol going down your throat. "do you usually drink this much before showtime?" cody furrowed his brows, clearly confused. "yes and no." you shook your head. "i just needed a drink after all of this shit that i went through this past few weeks." he only responded with a nod.

"so, what do you wanna talk about?" you rolled your eyes at his sentence. "shut up. you should be thankful i'm here with you." cody snickered. "i just realized we never hung out before." two shots down. "because i don't have a lot of friends, i don't like people." you confessed. "really? that's not what i heard from the other wrestlers." you sighed. "are you trying to get some gossip out of me? because it's not working."

to say the least, it was rare for you to finally give in to hangouts after work. but you really needed a drink. "no, no. i just want... to get to know you better?" cody cringed at his own sentence. "what is it with you, cody? you're not intimidated by me. that's just weird." three shots down and you were already a bit lightheaded. "why would i be?" his respond made you think for a bit. "well, i don't know. i know everyone talks about me changing and all, some of my old friends cut me off." you blurted out, words started slurring as you felt the alcohol in your veins.

"i'm not afraid or intimidated by you, (y/n). i mean, i wanna be friends with you. i don't care if you're cold or this 'bitch from upstairs', i know you're a good person." he took another shot. "that's the problem, rhodes. you don't know me." you were still putting your guard up. "one friend won't hurt you, (y/n)." his words felt genuine, cueing you to take another shot. four shots down. "okay, let's slow down." he chuckled.

you cursed yourself for drinking too fast. "i want to be friends with a lot of people. i missed being care-free and not having to put my guard up, but i'm just so scared people might take me for granted again." you finally confessed. "i fucking hate this heartbreak situation. i hate myself for putting myself in this position. closed-off after a breakup? that's just so fucking weak of me." you continued.

"hey, you're not weak. heartbreaks are hard to deal with!" "i don't know, cody. like you said, it hurts seeing the person who broke your heart almost every time you go to work. i fucking hate him." five shots down. "i'm sorry, this is why i go solo-drinking, i can't control what i'm saying." you let out a chuckle. cody's eyes widened in surprise as he heard your laughter. it was the first time you let out a laugh and he loved it.

"i just wish we ended in good terms. i don't know if i still want him or not, but every time i see him my heart hurts." you laid your chin on the table, clearly taking in the alcohol in your system. "not to mention his cousins are always with him, i don't get to see them very often without him in the crime scene." you complained. "my only friend is my fucking boss now and he's always busy."

the blond-haired man took another shot as he was preparing for another proposal. "my offer still stands," he paused for a bit, unknowingly patting your head. you furrowed your eyebrows, face flushing red. "i can be your friend, your wingman, or so. i don't have any relations with your ex, we're just colleagues." cody continued. "well, you're not intimidated by me. i guess you can say we're kinda friends? not best friends though." cody smiled at your response.

"i'll take that."

six shots down and you were drunk. "you know what, fuck that dude. fuck his pretty smile, fuck his pretty hair, fuck everything that we've been through, i'm fucking amazing!" you couldn't stop smiling. "i'm (y/n) fucking (l/n)! i don't cry for people, people cry for me." cody nodded, agreeing with your statement. "fuck him!" he was being a hype-man to you. "fuck who?" speak of the devil.

you looked up from cody, only to be greeted by your ex boyfriend's face and his cousins standing behind him. "damn, we in the same bar this entire time?" jey said. "hiiiiiiii." you waved at him, even though he was literally standing near your table. "how many shots did she have?" roman raised an eyebrow. "6 shots." cody replied. "did you drink?" roman continued. "only a beer." cody pointed at his bottle.

"what the fuck are you doing here, reigns?" your vision was blurry, but you could tell that it was roman. "i was having a drink, turns out you're here too." he replied. "oh." was all that came out of your mouth. "well then, get going. i don't want to see your face." your words were still laced with venom. "not until you get back to the hotel safely, let's get you back." roman took your hand, but you slapped it away.

"i came here with cody and i'm leaving with him." you barked at him. "i don't trust him enough to drive you back." cody felt disrespected by his comment. before cody could respond, you stood up from your seat. "and who asked for your opinion? i trust him and your opinions don't matter to me anymore. who the fuck do you think you are?"

the conversation was heated, leaving jey, jimmy, solo, and cody in distress. "you shouldn't really drink with someone you just knew, (y/n). you're better than this. come on, let's go back." you clenched your jaw as you heard his sentence. "yeah, i don't give a shit about what you think! fuck off." you were too drunk to control your words. "you're no one to me, reigns." your head was spinning around.

"just go, roman. she's safe with me, i'll text you when we get back. don't worry about anything." roman stared at cody, uncertain about what he should do. "yeah, bro. come on, let's get going. we'll see y'all tomorrow." jimmy intervened, not wanting to cause a bar fight between an angry 'bitch from upstairs' and the tribal chief. "you'll be fine right, (y/n)?" solo asked. "i'll be okay, just get him out of my face." you ushered them away.

"text me when you get back, cody." the blond nodded, keeping his words. the four of them left, leaving you stressed out by your sudden outburst. "hey, (y/n). are you okay?" cody sat up from his seat, taking the empty spot next to you. he patted your back as he saw tears streaming down your face. "fuck, i hate it here." you muttered. "you wanna go back?" you nodded at his sentence.

the ride back to the hotel was silent. with your raging headache and sleepy demeanour, you couldn't think straight. "we're here. let's go, what's your room number?" he unbuckled your seatbelt, helping you walk. "409." you replied, getting back on your feet. "oh, we're neighbors. i'm in 411." the two of you walked silently inside the elevator.

you stood in front of the door, trying to get the keys out of your bag. "here i got it." cody offered a hand. you gave him your bag and he unlocked the room. "i'll be next door if you need anything, (y/n)." he announced. "yeah..." you couldn't even open your eyes to respond to him. you flopped to the hotel bed, falling face first. "good night then." "wait." you said, gaining his attention.

"thanks for tonight, cody. i really needed that drink." he chuckled at your sentence. "you know, it won't hurt for you to be friends with me, (y/n). i won't take you for granted." he confessed. "i just hope that you know i would really like to get to know you better." cody continued. "don't take it too hard on yourself, (y/n). good night."

cody: back at the hotel with (y/n), she's asleep

roman: thanks

roman: just so u know i was trying to protect her

cody: dw about it ik because i'm just some dude from work

he turned off his phone and laid on his bed, thinking about the events that happened today. cody smiled as he remembered your ramblings. you were slowly opening up to him, even though you were drunk off your ass, he appreciated the thought of you wanting to get drinks with him. what caught him off guard was roman's distrust for him. but then again, he was just some dude from your work, trying to befriend you no matter what it takes.

a/n: take a guess of (y/n)'s zodiac damn... i think she's either an aries sun or taurus sun with gemini rising, anywayss like usual requests are open and feel free to drop some questions/requests! hope y'all enjoyed this chapter! feedbacks are highly appreciated ♡

#roman reigns #cody rhodes #the usos #the bloodline #paul heyman #jimmy uso #jey uso #solo sikoa #wwe #wwe imagines #wwe imagine #wrestling

[im-not-your-nice-jewish-boy]

look in a mirror

I've taken some time to think about this, and I've decided that I'm done with giving the benefit of the doubt here.

I remember listening to another Jewish person talk about why she doesn't write about the Shoah, specifically her saying "I can feel the weight of my ancestors" near the end. And you know what? She's right. Every time I think about the Holocaust, about how the entire world turned their backs on us Jews and the Romani beside us, I feel that loss to my core. You can't escape the scars of that time as a Jew. It becomes part of the double helix of your genes like the will to survive that keeps us here despite everyone wishing we weren't whether they say it out loud or not.

With that in mind: fuck Caelan Conrad and all their ilk

A hearty shut your mouth and consider your life to everyone who tries to appropriate the Holocaust like it's some kind of badge of honor or a fucking game.

For people who spend so much time laughing at the people who you say want to be oppressed so badly, you're doing something that's exactly the same. Is it not enough for you, the state of the world when it comes to the threat to the lgbtqia+ community? Only I'm painfully aware that it's not that. It's the fact that you, yes you oh passionate defender of human rights, want so very badly to not have to think about how much you hate Jews. You want so very badly to erase that the Holocaust was about the Jews and the Romani far more than it was about queer people.

And before you get started with that: I am queer

I am trans

I am gay

I am on the asexual spectrum

Those are all important things about me, yes, but when I think about the Shoah, I don't think about my status as a queer person. You know what I think of? The fact that people in my family died. The fact that if that hadn't happened, I probably wouldn't be in the American part of the diaspora. The fact that there are still fewer Jewish people in the world now and somehow people still act like "oh, it was forever ago" and "it wasn't really that bad".

Fuck you

Like I've said before: you've stolen enough from us

You don't get to steal our trauma, our murders, our ghosts, our bones

You don't get to act like that was about you

The Holocaust isn't a fucking statement; it was a tragedy played across the entire world focused primarily on the wholesale slaughter of the Jewish people and the Romani people

It is something we still feel to this day

Take your thieving, sticky fucking fingers far away and keep them to yourself until you learn to stop taking shit that isn't yours

You claim to be so much better than organizations like the catholic church?

How about you act like it then and stop pulling the same moves they did when it comes to your antisemitism; this is one of the oldest dirty moves in the book and it doesn't look any better on you than it did on them

#antisemitism #cultural appropriation #tw shoah #historical revisionism #jewish history #the holocaust isn't about you #never forget #never again #am yisrael chai #whether you like it or not #leftist antisemitism #leftist hypocrisy #this is spicier than is probably wise #i don't really care #fuck you people

[mother-marilynn]

Men I have a big fat crush on:

I'm pretty new to regular blogging and don't really know what to post about so here's a list of male musicians, actors, and celebrities that I think are really pretty.

Robert Sean Leonard ( He's like the definition of pretty. I mean come on. )

Frank Iero ( Not only is he a fucking amazing musician and super talented he's also really funny and pretty which is cool. )

Jake Webber ( I just love him. He's such a little monster. Don't worry Johnnie's on the list too. )

Jeremy Irons ( Okay, he's mainly on the list due to his role in Lolita 1997 but shhhh. )

Mads Mikkelsen ( How would I make a list of pretty men without him being on here. I want him to ultraviolence me. )

Joey Jordison ( Again, another gremlin I love. His music is so good and he was such a talented drummer. RIP Joey. )

Pedro Pascal ( Pretty basic celeb crush but I don't even care, he's so nice to look at. )

Joseph Gordon-Levitt ( EEEEE He's such an amazing actor and He's honestly just too adorable. )

Keanu Reeves ( The amount of times I've watched the John Wick movies and I don't even like action flicks. )

Wyatt Olef ( I love him so much in I'm not okay with this and he's just such a good actor. He adds so much to movies and such. )

Johnnie Guilbert ( See? I told you. Honestly I love Johnnie for so many reasons. I used to watch his videos when I was like 9 and I still love him even though I'm not emo anymore, that and he's really pretty. )

Ryan Gosling ( Omg, He's so perfect. His duality in acting is actually insane and he's just so hilarious. He's one of those celeb crushes where I also just love him as a person and not just as an icon. )

Theodore Pellerin ( He's one of those actors with such a shockingly pretty face that watching movies with him in it literally makes me so invested. Not to discount his amazing acting. I honestly wish he was in Boy Erased for more scenes because his character could have had so much more depth. I just love him. )

Hugh Laurie ( Just saying if he didn't play House in House. I don't think it would be my favorite show. )

Mikey Way ( Remember when I said I'm not emo anymore? Yeah well I used to be very emo. So your just gonna have to cope with him being on here. He's such a talented bassist and just such a funny person. )

Jensen Ackles ( Something about him as a person AND as the men he plays is so mmm. )

Christian bale ( Can you tell American Psycho is one of my favorite movies??? Christian bale is such an amazing actor and is able to convey emotion so fucking well it's actually insane. I wish he was in more movies. )

Henry Cavill ( I mean, come on. He's superman, AND Geralt. Let's be serious. )

Troye Sivan ( I don't know what about him is so amazing, but I just love him so much for no discernable reason. )

Chino Moreno ( I think the fact that deftones mainly produced horny emo music is the main reason for the appeal. Either way, Chino has always been one of my biggest musician crushes. )

John Krasinski ( Yes, I had to look up how to spell his last name, and yes, I am a painfully huge fan of the office. )

Ryan Reynolds ( Not only is he super pretty but Ryan's acting style is so unique and honestly just amazing. How he is able to literally just be himself in every role is insane and I love it. *also his voice is very hot but you didn't hear that from me* )

Gerard Way ( Again, some things never change. Including my taste in emo men. Gerard way is such a fucking amazing musician, singer, and artist. He's just amazing and has produced so much media that I love. )

Cillian Murphy ( Okay, like, what girl doesn't love this man. He's just so... muah. I also love the fact that actually he's just some loving dad that doesn't know how texting or social media works. )

Daniel Ash ( He's such a talented guitarist and I just love him. I honestly wish I could know more about some older bands. )

Well. I hope you enjoyed this list of random men I love.

And yes, I will be posting A list of female and non-binary people I'm in love with secretly.

#girlblogger #girlblogging #hell is a teenage girl #im just a girl #girlhood #just girly things #crush #celebrity crush #man crush forever #love me #crushing #yearning #longing #girl core #becoming that girl #cinammon girl #cinnamon girl #coquette girl #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #gaslight gatekeep girlblog #girl blogging #girl blogger #girl blog #girl interrupted #girl boss gaslight gatekeep #girl rotting #girl problems #girl thoughts #girl things #girlblog

[beevean]

I don’t know how to express this but somehow I get a feeling that Netflixvania and Netflixvania fans don’t like anime and look down on it?? To me, as someone who grew up with anime and manga, Castlevania is still very much a Japanese story despite being set mostly in Eastern Europe. With the serious ham, the character designs, the enemies, “demon lord” Dracula, etc. Even the early Classicvania games are like a Japanese take on Western media and horror films. That’s why Netflixvania lost a lot of its charm to me and seems like just another grimdark, “mature” take on American (not even European) vampire tropes. So with all this defense of Netflixvania and blatantly ignoring and ripping apart the source material, saying its story is inferior and that there’s no substance, I just feel like they don’t think much of the Japanese creators who have made Castlevania alive. They don’t care for how Ayami Kojima inspired the show design and the character looks, they don’t care for how Koji Igarashi added so much lore and themes to Castlevania (themes they’re claiming the show expanded on and did better), they don’t care for the original Castlevania in 1986 for which we can thank for even spawning this franchise. And with the way Japanese people are portrayed in the Netflix series, it just seems like a more blatant “we can do so much more better than Japan” move. Am I overthinking this in believing the Netflixvania fans and creators are kinda racist?

I wouldn't accuse the fans of being automatically xenophobic if they simply prefer something with a more Western appeal. Even the "games stupid" crowd don't think so because it's anime, it's because they're too lazy to engage with the story. It's elitism against videogames, not "lmao japan stupid".

But the people responsible for the show? Oh yes, you can see xenophobia in their arrogance, in their quest to "improve" on the games, to make it adult in an in-your-face way, to miss the idealism because cynicism is much "deeper", to redesign characters to make them more conventionally handsome (and literally fetishizing and emasculating the few who kept their bishounen looks, no I will not let it go). It's rich of them to crudely imitate Kojima's style to make the show look like an anime, when their themes, characterizations and values are much, much more Western.

Speaking of Kojima! How would you describe her style? Personally, I love it for being so ethereal, dreamlike, fragile, grotesque in part and yes, even erotic in her original work.

Some non-CV examples:

And how do the Deats brothers describe it?

She "brought the horny". And for them, this is the right justification for this shit:

It's immature, it's shallow, it misses the point, it's disrespectful, and I can confidently say that it's painfully American. And Nocturne, with its hyperfocus on politics, is more of the same. It's the same americacentric arrogance that caused so many regional changes in videogames in the '90s, from censoring breasts to rewriting stories in the manuals to changing a cute mascot to make them look angrier to even things like composing a whole different soundtrack for Sonic CD: the assumption that the Western audience can't, and won't make the effort to approach something that doesn't cater to their culture.

And then you add the arrogance of "fixing the stupid games with no story". These shows are made with nothing but spite in mind.

#anti netflixvania

[modernlex]

simblr’s new year resolutions (2024)

thanks so much for the tag @alientown

what’s your resolution for your simblr?

finally get around to establishing the blog aesthetic with potentially a little rebrand coming very soon but shhhh & get back to posting townie makeovers + I think maybe some build interiors.

get better at tagging on the finds blog and get a little navigation post on

be more present in the community & hopefully make friends with more of my mutuals despite how painfully shy I am on here.

what do you want from the sims franchise?

for them to stop servicing the sims 4 lol

more realistically I want more unique worlds - definitely African + South American based first but also more Asian + European inspired, but I'd even just take one more true urban feeling city like I'm begging

bands, hobbies, & anything that isn't for the young adult stage

bug fixes and the updates to neighborhood stories, sentiments, etc that were promised but of course not delivered - but please no more townie refreshes

any other new year’s resolutions?

be kinder to myself & release my perfectionist tendencies

spend more time in nature + just enjoy existing

simplify all aspects of my life as much as possible

I tag you - yes, you

#just text #simblr tag games #new years resolutions

[alwaysdevilday]

It's wild to me how American clients in my job will consistently (almost willfully) misconstrue precise and neutral wording as being somehow rude or inconsiderate.

My job requires me to answer a lot of questions for prospective clients and one thing I hear several times a month is how rude I am for answering questions with "yes" or "not at this time" or "sorry, that's not possible". I don't answer this way because I'm pissed off or looking to annoy the client, but because my job requires me to give accurate and completely unambiguous answers! If I don't take pains to remove ambiguity you would not believe how often a client will read into it to get completely wrong information!

I have never once gotten a complaint about this from non-American clients. Many of them have actually directly thanked me for being concise and knowledgeable and saving them a significant amount of time.

This country's cultural perception that workers need to bow and scrape and that anything else is rudeness is fucking toxic and needs to die quickly and painfully.

#labor #fuck labor #fuck jobs #fuck customers

[mightyflamethrower]

SENILE: Joe Biden's Painfully Awkward Trip to a Gas Station Is a Major Red Flag

By Bonchie | 10:02 AM on April 18, 2024

Joe Biden had quite the day on Wednesday, and that's saying something for the often-confused president. Traveling to Pennsylvania to once again pander to the "working class" he has no actual connection to, he decided to tell a made-up story about his uncle supposedly being eaten by cannibals. 

Yes, we are at the point where he's now slandering people from Papa New Guinea in his pursuit of clout. The reverse Forrest Gump strikes again. 

The president also let his senility get the best of him while attempting to throw Israel under the bus again. In a mind-numbing pronouncement, Biden claimed that he told Israel "Don't move on Haifa." There's just one problem. Haifa is an Israeli city in the northern portion of the country, nowhere near Gaza. 

That wasn't the end of it, though. Biden then showed up at a gas station in what can only be described as a painfully awkward and highly concerning visit.

Walking in flanked by Secret Service agents, no one seems especially impressed to see Biden. There's no large crowd and no one expressing support like you see when Donald Trump visits a public establishment. After slowly meandering to the counter, the president does manage to get one person to take a selfie with him while everyone else just stands around. He then just turns around and walks out. The entire visit took around two minutes. 

As a political matter, this was a box-checking exercise and an ill-advised one at that. The contrast being drawn with Trump is not a good one, and I don't just mean the lack of enthusiasm because what sticks out the most in that video is just how weak and feeble Biden is. 

Look at how he walks. Someone forgot to remove the butt plugg His arms barely move, to the point where you can tell he's actively thinking about moving them to look more normal. Never mind the short, choppy steps he takes at a pace that would lose a race to a sloth. Mentally, he genuinely looks like he doesn't know where he's at or why he's there. His handlers probably just pointed what direction to walk and he ended up in a gas station. Then when confronted by a reporter on a policy question related to China, he told them "Don't jump." Jump from where? The first floor?

How does this man make it another four years if he's re-elected? There has never been a president who sought a second term in this condition. It's scary to think that Biden is in charge of the nuclear arsenal, which means someone else is actually in charge of the nuclear arsenal. All of this is a major red flag. American voters have to put their grievances aside and ensure this man is not put back in the White House.

Ole Sniffy was hoping for a Trump moment. He never had a chance.

[microstmnt]

Timeskip Turtles Part 2 (Timeskip humans?)

I am insanely proud of how hot Casey looks 😌 but I’m biased bc I like men with long hair. 

Honestly, last three years were kinda chill for Casey (maybe one major plot point that I need to explore but anyways), for April on the other hand? Honey you’re gonna go through it

Casey: as mentioned before some time after the defeat of Shredder (in wich he and April were explicitly excluded from participating, cue both of them feeling slightly offended) he and Leo went on a roadtrip across Latin America to train (Case originally just wanted to go back to Argentina but Leo talked him into extending the trip and countries), honestly in comparison to what the everyone else lived in NYC, the trip went super chill, no major altercation, no threats to no ones life, it was basically a vacation. The mutant problem once tought to be a NYC only problem has now extended to include all the American continent so encountering mutants in their travels is not unheard of, meaning that Leo doesn’t have to hide for half the trip (yay, these two are gonna bond :) ). Coming back to their home they’re gonna find a lot of things have changed and there’s a lot of things that they missed (Casey: I missed a whole alien invasion? Ah man ): ). Notable scars: Minor scars on face from fighting, claw stabs on shoulders from meeting Venus, scrape on the right arm by a Purple Dragon altercation (yes, those bastards are still around), gunshot wound on stomach pre Battle Nexus arc by a Purple Dragon

April: After the defeat of Shredder, April decided to dedicate herself to her study, threats to one’s life are nice and all but I have to take exams guys, in her faculty she’s gonna meet Baxter Stockman, a teen genius whose ego is as big as his brain, unfortunately, the same people responsible for the mutant outbreak might be looking for his smarts so she has to keep an eye on him and make sure he doesnt mix with the wrong people (or get kidnapped...), unfortunately this means that she is now also a target for the people responsible for the mutant outbreak, and this is made clear when one night she is attacked by a mutant turtle that she’s never met before. She goes to the turtles with this information and by this point it’s clear that the men behind all of this has zero qualms in eliminating percieved threats. Things escalate until the ✨ alien invasion ✨ and I’m not gonna lie, I have nothing on the alien invasion, I just know it happens (A+ writing, I know). Notable scars: Slashes on left arm and shoulder by Venus (not seen because of the jacket), claw marks on right leg from Venus (not seen because of pants), stab wound on stomach by a Foot Ninja (pre Battle Nexus)

If it’s not painfully clear by now; I’m an artist, not a writer, shotout to all writers for real, this shit is not easy *sweating bullets trying to connect everything* 

Some more things: by this point in their life characters like Lita, Jennika, Slash and Venus have all appeared (Jennika, Lita and Slash after the defeat of Shredder in that order, and Venus during Leo’s adventures in the Southern Continent), Bishop is even worse than Shredder (I know Shredder is more iconic, but I had zero ideas for him sorry), Karai is just living her life studying veterinary, she sometimes helps the boys but from the main part she’s just on her own (her biggest appearance is when Jennika comes looking for her, but more on that in Jenny’s character sheet), Ooroku Saki is still alive, he’s just in jail (anticlamatic? Maybe, but it’s also sad), Twig is living with Karai. The boys still live with Splinter, and they all have a new Lair because Shredder destroyed their old one (Some things never change), it’s a bunker style place that connects with the Sewers (Think the IDW lair)

And for April and Casey.... I know no one likes a slow burn, but I genuinely think these two are dumbasses who have no idea what to do with themselves if they’re not fighting for their life or protecting people... They’ll figure it out and end up together eventually, probably

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #micros tmnt #tmnt april o'neil #tmnt casey jones #tmnt 1987 #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2003 #rottmnt #tmnt bayverse #tmnt comics #tmnt idw #tmnt 2007 #tmnt mutant mayhem #this whole tagging all iterations im going crazy...

[tanadrin]

I could be misreading something, but is your Constitution still requiring Congress to pass like 90% of its laws via a fig-leaf of interstate commerce or by threats of withholding welfare?

yes, because it's more aimed at fixing structural defects in the way the U.S. implements separation of powers than fixing U.S. jurisprudence broadly (though it does have some targeted fixes aimed at the most egregious civil rights violations in current jurisprudence)

a comprehensive fix of U.S. jurisprudence is beyond the scope of a constitution that wants to adhere to the basic spirit of the original U.S. Constitution, which is actually, by modern standards, painfully light on details. not that i don't think it's a good idea--but at that point you're looking at a more comprehensive rewrite, and you might as well take as your starting point a modern liberal-democratic constitution like France's, Germany's, or Switzerland's.

if you look at the Grundgesetz, for instance, it lays out in almost excruciating detail everything from elements of the Bundestag's committee structures to state entitlement to grants for public transport. while you might not need to go into quite that much detail, the modern administrative state is complex, and you do need a lot of detail.

but i think it's even worse than that--a lot of american jurisprudence has what amounts to major elements of policy or constitutional law incorporated into it by way of judicial doctrines, like the incorporated vs unincorporated territory distinction (goes back to the Insular Cases), or different kinds of scrutiny that are applied to legislation based on how it discriminates among citizens (intermediate vs strict; this goes back to civil rights caselaw). heck, qualified immunity, which has huge policy implications, exists nowhere outside judicial decisions; it's not the result of any law that's ever been passed. and frankly a lot of this stuff is sufficiently important that it should be spelled out in statute or in the constitution itself, IMO--but collating all these elements of the law, and revising the whole legal code to make them an explicit part of statute rather than just case law, would be a huge undertaking.

now, i am on record i think as saying that the common law approach is ill-suited to the modern day, and that countries that still use it should pass a civil code and move over to a civil law framework. i think the civil law system has the virtue of trying to put most of that stuff in statute, where legislators can vote on it, and where citizens can read it for themselves, rather than having to pore over stacks and stacks of caselaw to understand what the law really is. but i don't have the legal education to begin to tackle that task.

[psychewritesbs]

Chapter 201: Direct Negotiations, part 2—THIS IS AMERICA! 

Happy JJK-Sunday. 

Actually... not really... Our boys are about to walk into insanity... Get your Kleenex box ready. Gege is up to no good...

He also made fun of and called out “America” and I love him all the more for it. Makes me wonder whether he’s keeping up with the USAmerican fandom and wonders how we’re reacting to the chapter.

We love it!

If anyone cares to read... I got super political and opinionated and personal. That’s what happens when you are a First Generation USAmerican born in the US but raised outside of the US--you see things differently.

THIS IS AMERICA

Also, if you haven’t, go listen to the song by Donald Glover, This is America, a fantastic satire of a song and music video loaded with symbolism. The song and video were released in May of 2018 and depicted the deeply rooted societal problems plaguing American society. 

TW! The video is very graphic.

Not featured in the song and video, however, are...

The American Healthcare System: The fact that I can't afford to go to the Doctor or have a medical emergency without getting into ridiculous amounts of debt... 

Student loan debt: Not to mention the mountain of Student Loan debt I have because... #this is America and in the American Dream you get into debt to go to college to get better jobs. It’s a literal scam and millions of us bought into it. 

Far Right Christian Fundamentalism: Also, a group of judges took away federal protection for abortion laws. It’s feeling really Handmaid’s Tail up in here. 

Guns guns guns, USAmericans LOVE their guns: Did I mention my neighbors aren’t scared to publicly say that they’ll shoot you with their assault riffle if you trespass into their property and they assume you are suspicions? #Texas.

Talk about being a progressive society.

But hey...

I think the biggest irony about the internal societal problems tearing down American society is intimately related to what Gege is addressing in this chapter... instead of focusing on fixing our internal problems, American leaders are hell-bent on colonization, conquest and dominating the political landscape outside of its borders. 

Cue Killing in the Name of by quintessentially American Rock Band, Rage Against the Machine.

Yes, Gege. Say it.

And the whole implication about how the US uses its army to pursue this world domination agenda?

I don’t care how cliché these American Villains are they’re painfully cliché... this whole thing is so on point.

As a First Generation USAmerican, I honestly had second-hand embarrassment reading this chapter.

Side note: I drive a 13-year old Honda Civic. I highly recommend Japanese cars. USAmerican cars are not that great.

I am totally not surprised to see Gege addressing how the US government and media will manipulate public perception of certain political issues. 

“We’re not experimenting on Japanese citizens, we’re protecting them” reminds of the war in Iraq in the search for weapons of mass destruction that were never found.

Similarly, if you Google Project A119, the formal definition about it was presented to the public as having benign reasons. But who is to say it wasn’t about establishing dominance?

Curious to learn more? You can read more about Project A119 and Operation Fishbowl by doing Google searches on these terms.

But I think most poignant is the implication that American leadership would think that it’s morally correct to experiment on humans.

And Kenny totally has the USAmerican leaders eating right out of his hand by saying everything he knows they need to hear.

We know Kenny is going around stirring the pot and getting countries pitted against one another.

But we haven’t seen what he has told the Japanese government. We also don’t know if Gege will write about the kinds of atrocities the Japanese government might have committed against its own citizens.

Like other authors, Gege certainly doesn’t hold back his punches.

And, again, what’s most poignant about this whole ordeal is that we’re talking about governments and how they justify their actions while manipulating public perception of these issues.

That’s why I really appreciated the symbolism used to depict the ideal of what it means for USAmerica to be the world power that it is today (or at least was once upon a time).

This is America.

And I love that, again, Kenny was just like...

“Calm down USAmerica, you might have guns and muscle, but Japan has psychic warriors. Duh!”

That smug look on his face too... Let’s not forget that Kenny has been planning this ordeal and waiting for the right set of circumstances like an idiotic USAmerican President in office for at least a millennia

Anyways...

Yes, world. The clichés about USAmerica are mostly painfully true.

Ura-ume

Talking to @justafrenchlondoner​ we were both wondering whether Ura-ume is going to turn on Kenny since Ura-ume appears to have a deep allegiance with Sukuna and Sukuna had a change of plans.

Similarly, if I remember correctly, Kenny was ok with doing away with Sukuna... something like that. Gotta go back to re-read parts of the Shibuya arc.

Either way, gotta wonder about them...

And then the chapter ends...

The perfect recipe for disaster.

800 soldiers with USAmerican guns and muscle against a comedian, an Angel, and two high school-aged Psychic Warriors.

I fear that here comes the culmination of this cozy feeling of safety that Gege created during the first half of the arc... and it is legit giving me anxiety.

I’m literally going crazy because I can see it coming. There’s a Gege-twist coming. I can feel it. And idk if I’m being paranoid but that’s how Gege rolls.

This man kills and hurts beloved characters without remorse just after you thought everything was groovy.

The Culling Game so far...

During the Culling Game, a literal Battle Royale twist on the Battle Tournament trope, with some exceptions, most of what we’ve gotten so far has been very lighthearted moments and battles and no significant deaths.

The Culling Game is about death but we haven’t experienced any deaths that we care about. Think long and hard about that.

Instead, Gege has bombarded us with Gege-style irony and humor.

Who could forget Yuta kissing a cockroach?

Not to mention Yuta and Ryu’s bromance to wrap up the arc.

Have we forgotten how incredibly annoying Charlie Bernard was?

And how Kashimo vs. Hakari literally ends with them teaming up, stroking each other’s ego, and acting like they weren’t just trying to kill each other moments ago?

What about Takaba’s awful jokes?

Then there was Kappa-guy and Katana-guy...

And now that Naoya has died again... we’re back to where it all began: Yuji and Megumi willingly going on a suicide mission to save each other and their loved ones.

Now, during Shibuya, Yuji walked away scarred, not just physically, but emotionally and psychologically. Megumi, on the other hand, was protected by Sukuna.

This also just reminded me that, from my perspective, Megumi has shown us on more than one occasion that he doesn't seem to have much regard for the life of others. 

So I kind of have to wonder whether we’re about to find out just how much Megumi doesn’t value human life in general given the whole thing about how the most powerful sorcerers have an overwhelming sense of self and have no regard for others.

Who knows! Can’t wait to see how the rest of the Culling Game arc unfolds because when JJK is good, JJK IS GOOD.

Anyways. Happy JJK-Sunday! If you’ve made it this far, thank you again for reading my rant about USAmerica.

This is America

You know... the political rant about USAmerica aside, I must admit that living in USAmerica is quite the privilege that I am grateful to have.

I think that inasmuch as we, USAmericans have a bad reputation, we really are just like everybody else--doing our best with what circumstances we have been handed. 

For some self-disclosure: I lived in Houston, TX for a decade. Houston is a criminally underrated yet quintessentially USAmerican city...

Houston is no Manhattan, but it is the cultural capital of the Southern US and is one of the most culturally diverse cities in the country. And amongst the things that are quintessentially American are the immigrant communities that have made this country what it is today.

I understand that when Anthony Bourdain recorded the episode for Parts Unknown in Houston, despite Houston’s incredible gourmet foodie scene, he specifically asked to visit the hole-in-the-wall-type cultural nooks in the city because he wanted the episode to focus on the USAmerican experience of being an immigrant in this country.

I can tell you that while I lived in Houston, I had friends from Mexico to Nepal, and worked with people from Spain all the way to Korea. 

The private school I worked at had children enrolled from at least 50 different nationalities from the world over. What I loved most about working there was knowing that these children were being taught that it didn’t matter where you’re from because in the end we’re all just human.

Similarly, when Hurricane Harvey dumped a year’s worth of water on Houston in 2017, Houston was practically under water. The outpouring of support from the community in the midst of the chaos, however, was beautiful to behold. Your nationality or skin color did not matter, what mattered was helping other Houstonians get back on their feet.

This is USAmerica. 

... and we’ve got deeply rooted societal problems, but we really are just doing our best with what we’ve got.

One final jab at “America”

I didn’t want to couldn’t help myself...

#jjk ch 201 #jjk spoilers #god I love jujutsu kaisen

[satashiiwrites]

Wip tag game

Tagged by @imsupposedtobewritting for this wip tag game…. And first how dare you! (Affectionate)  Yes I am shamed by the length of this list! I am adding a few bonus gifs just to break up the text blocks a bit. 

Pro tip: If you want me to work on something listed below my muse really does respond to feedback/comments/gifs/meta posts/stimulation.  Make of that what you will. 

Family, Familia, ‘Ohana (911/H5O/SWAT, Buddie, McDanno, platonic Deacon/Hondo).  I’ve got a chapter title for the next one—SNAFU—and the following one after that—FUBAR.  That pretty much sums up a lot of things there. i’ve been working very non-linearly here and have a lot of the plot figured out as well as which beats to hit… now just the execution of said plan.  Mostly the muse has been chewing on the penultimate chapter and final chapter a lot more than what is currently going on. I’ll make the muse behave eventually but it’s getting a break on this one since I updated just a little bit ago.  (Don’t look at me like that Danno!)

A New Version of Foreplay, Chapter two/final chapter (911, Buddie) I really just have the smut to write and the muse hasn’t been playing ball here. It’ll happen eventually but just probably not this week.  We know where we’re going here and all—Just need the Buck and Eddie part of my muse to cooperate. 

Death Rebirth and the Jackal (Mass Effect Andromeda, The Mummy (1999 movie trilogy) with heavy influences from Moon Knight, American Gods and Egyptian history/mythology, MReyder).  I’ve got this vaguely on the every month posting schedule rotation so expect a chapter a month—possibly more often depending on how much writing time I get (fall is getting overscheduled right into February so don’t hold your breath).  

To Follow (Mass Effect all media types, MReyder, MShenko—sequel/alternative perspective of one-shot Seguir, Pre-Andromeda meeting/relationship). The muse has been chewing on the plot for this like a week old newspaper.  The paper has gotten beyond soggy and I’m going to be cleaning up plot points for a bit but I’m starting to get a really clear picture of how to work things.  Probably getting a new chapter in the next six weeks or so. Just need to get in the really angsty headspace first and have it not be stolen by Eddie Diaz. 

Reinventing Scott (Mass Effect Andromeda, MReyder) ah my what-if-Cora-really-was-pissed-about-not-being-pathfinder fic and we took a left turn at Eos that ended up with Scott and Reyes running into each other much earlier. It was kinda on the back burner but i’ve been mulling over a few plot points the last two weeks so also prolly getting something in the next month or so but not on the official update rotation—yet. 

Promise Me You Won’t Let Me (Wheel of Time, Cauthor). Is officially on the try-to-update monthly rotation.  I want to finish this before the second season starts airing.  If you’ve been reading and have watched the first season you know this is going to all end in tragedy and blow up in Rand’s and Mat’s face. Might possibly be the most painfully angst ridden thing I’ve written.  I hope the show runners give me a reason to write a sequel of them pining angrily at each other from afar in the second season. Sorry Rand—there’s going to be a lot of whump in both Mat’s and your immediate future. 

To Catch A Fallen Star (Teen Wolf and Stardust Mashup, Sterek and others) I seem to have caught a fusion/mashup vibe with Jackal and it continues here.  Prologue is posted and I’m planning on monthly-ish updates. Have a pretty good roadmap worked out so it’s just a matter of having time and energy to stay on top of.  I mean Stiles is Tristan and Derek’s Yvaine.  What could go wrong?  Oh yeah and Peter is totally Septimus while Scott is going to be Bernard. 

Cousin Harvey (Moon Knight and Suits Crossover, Marvey, it’s complicated for Marc and Steven but it’s not sexual) Nothing yeeted yet as this is going to be a one-shot I s2g. I mean what are Marc and Steven doing in Nebraska? Harvey’s got the bail money. This is going to possibly be totally crack-y (What am I saying? It’s totally crack).

The Outlaw and the Cartel Boss (Mayans MC, Miguel/EZ, Angel/Adelita, Angel/Coco, Sentinel/Guide AU).  I had this on the back burner because it’s long and when I do work on it it’s never usually on the NEXT chapter but on other things but my mood at work slid into Miguel’s headspace so now it’s gotten it’s running shoes back on.  Roughly planning every-other-month to monthly updates until done as these chapters tend to be closer to FFO updates rather than 3-5k. I just can’t leave Sentinel/Guide AUs alone and Danny Pino and JD Pardo are just too damned pretty of men. Also KJ IS NOT DYING HERE!  fwiw this is completely AU of the tv series (off the reservation so to speak) so if you want to read just pull up the wiki entries and you’ll be good to go. Don’t look so pleased with yourself Miguel *grumbles*

Firefighter Derek Series (linked one-shots, Teen Wolf, eventual Sterek). I’ve gotten a bit written on Papa Stillinski’s POV one shot so most likely will get this done sometime this fall.  Also have a pretty clear view of Connie the Librarian’s one shot which will be on the shorter side.  Expect these to randomly get yeeted if the muse gets in the mood. The Stiles and more of Derek’s POV ones the muse is doing a good impression of the witches from Macbeth with (double, double toill and trouble and all). 

Pieces that are currently simmering on the back burner—meaning that I’m not considering them abandoned and do tweak/write a bit/plot about them.  They’ll get done EVENTUALLY. I never put something out that I don’t plan on finishing even if it’s six or seven years later….again feed the muse people.  A few of these got started for MReyder week and I hate to think that sort of deadline is what it might take to make me shove something out the door chapter-wise. 

Mredyer stuff:

An Andromeda Tale (goes back and forth between actively worked on and back-burnered)

Andromeda 5-0

If I See You In My Dreams

The Marks We Leave On One Another (Gets worked on whenever the pissy part of my Reyes muse is in control.  Requires rage to work on)

What Happens in Vegas… one-shot.  Accidental Marriage. Modern AU.  It’s… um half-done?  give me another Mredyer week @radio-chatter and @quietborderline 

Untitled Westworld Fic—what if Reyes was a Host?  And um… yeah. Scott is TRAUMATIZED okay? Yes I have maybe 20k written…. 

Untitled MReyder firefighter AU.  Well Scott’s a firefighter.  Reyes is an undercover police officer. Things get interesting. Random scenes outlined/written.  Yes it’s partly smut that’s written damnit

Mreyder medical AU for @radio-chatter  you’ll get this eventually.  I’ve got too many thoughts but they’re completely disorganized. Mostly Scott and Reyes need to sync their on call schedule so they can actually get some sleep. 

What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve? ah the holiday fic that I swear I’m going to finish every December and yet still haven’t quite finished it two years later.  maybe this year is the year…..it’s… half-done?

Recurrence.  Every time I re-read my favorite book of all time Dark Matter by Blake Crouch I work on this.  Eventually will get done.  I just can’t leave the idea to die. So it gets worked on once a year and gets about ten pages added which are never the actual NEXT chapter. 

Mafia AU.  I have this very clear picture of Scott sitting in a hospital waiting room, hasn’t slept in days, drinking terrible coffee at 3AM and trying not to notice how Reyes’ blood is still visible under his fingernails despite how much he’s scrubbed them. Reyes’ uncle shows up and it’s like being doused in an icy river how much he realizes he doesn’t know about Reyes’ life. Non-linear narrative. Scott is maybe a firefighter in this too or maybe he’s a cop—something public service. Reyes makes a decision to protect Scott which means he has to give up everything—but he’ll do it if it keeps Scott safe. 

911 stuff

Buddie Rear Window—more idea than fully formed.  Might be a spooky season fic might not.  Depends on how hard this plot idea sticks around.  Currently not actively being written. Buck is Jimmy Stewart. Eddie is Grace Kelly. Carla is totally Buck’s housekeeper. Athena is a very much not impressed Detective. 

Sentinel Guide follow up one shots.  Got ideas but not actively being worked on.  May randomly get one shots yeeted out on this if the muse bites hard enough. 

Might revisit the werewolf fic for a sequel for spooky season.  Might just be more sexytimes one-shot. 

SWAT

Deacon/Hondo side story/sequel to FFO.  When this finally get’s written it’s going to be a tear jerker and deal with non-canon death of Deacon’s wife and the resulting fallout—grief, healing, love etc. This has been hanging around my brain for the better part of a year so it’ll eventually get written but not until FFO is done.  Will be completely AU from the SWAT series at that point. 

Edit: i totally forgot Bradley the Damned!!!  Um yeah. It’s my Generation Kill Bradnate time bending immortal fic.  Yeah.  On the back burner because it tend to write it during spooky season.  Prolly getting an update in the next two months?  

Tagging the usual crowd with no pressure as always. @quietborderline @radio-chatter​ @tkwritesdumbassassins​ @elisela​ @outtoshatter​ @redhoodiskra​ @missanniewhimsy​ and anyone else who wants to play along. 

#wip tag game #more like wip shame game #too many wips #too many plot bunnies too little time

[hatsunerandal]

part ten of my playlist analysis!!

part 1 <;- part 2 &lt;- part 3 <- part 4 <- part 5 &lt;- part 6 <- part 7 <- part 8 <- part 9 <- right back in we go

stained glass and colorful tears - pierce the veil THE DIFFERENCE IN VIBES FROM THIS ONE AND THE LAST ONE IS SO FUNNY anyway. itd be funnier if lucy was american but i will stand by my lucy loves ptv hc.

careless whisper - george michael real ones have already heard this BUT THIS IS LITERALLY LOCKWOODS SONG CMON BRO HE LOVES IT SM HES LIKE IN THE KITCHEN ON LUCYS FIRST MORNING AT L&CO AND IS LIKE PUTTING ON ENTIRE PERFORMANCE USING A SPATULA AS A MIC CMON ITS SO FUNNY. hopelessly devoted to you - olivia newton john ok this one is a lucy george duo performance they both love this song sm and george absolutely can hit all the high notes. never ending summer - wes reeve RHRFHFHFHF FLUFFY SUMMER VIBES IN THE COUNTRYSIDE THEYRE JUST GOIN ON BIKERIDES AND PCINICS SOBS SCRESMS CREISA. to build a home - the cinematic orchestra, patrick watson shes reading to him in the library <3. could you love me while i hate myself - zeph the song fits the vibe less so but the lyrics are literally lockwood!!!!1!!!!11 stuck on us - claire rosinkranz, aidan bissett i am stuck on THEM theyre eating away at my brain fr. repeat until death - novo amor eepy library vibes (can u tell its my favorite vibe). sweet nothing - taylor swift lockwood is a taylor swift girly you can fight me on this. but yea this is more of him looking at lucy like <33. oceans - seafret oops angst now. lucy feels like theres oceans between them because lockwood is so refined and put together (or so she thinks until she hears him begging winkman to kill him) and shes so,,, not. she thinks shes messy, she thinks shes unprofessional and unfit for this job. stay live - jose gonzalez 'we'll do whatever just to stay alive' feels so lucy and george being the only things keeping lockwood alive. you wouldnt like me - sleeping at last RHRHFHFHFHFHFHFH lockwood feeling like if he shows lucy the real him she'll leave just like everyone else he just. hes so scared of being abandoned (me too homie). wildfire - seafret theyre so painfully in love i love them i love them i lvoe them eating drywall ilove them. hate to be lame - lizzie mcalpine, finneas lucy trying to deny her feelings for lockwood because/???? lockwood???? rteally??? tythat stuck up suit-and-tie wearing bastard?? LOCKWOOD???? type beat. glitch - taylor swift lockwood taylor swift girly agenda is spreading. this one feels relatively self explanatory? cognitive dissonance - sophie holohan 'get too close, build a wall' ok lockwood pack it up. summer 2019 - caroline culver feels like fight vibes. not a breakup fight but definitely a fight. sleep deprivation - chance pena lockwood insomniac part 769984580386. reckless driving - lizzie mcalpine, ben kessler this one is so close to being taken off the playlist actually i just. idk i need help deciding it doesnt feel right. did i make you up - half alive hes so confused because lucy is so??? perfect??? in his life???? impossible he has a hard time trying to figure out if shes real or not just because shes so perfect. agape - bears den lockwood song thats it thats the tweet yes i already make this joke bear with me. state of mind - sod ven more lockwood religious trauma methinks hahahahahahhahahahahahha. hot tea - half alive its even better since they all love tea sm. theyre so soft and fuzzy i love them sm. christmas kids - roar this one os very lucy centric/book lucy centric. its her sister (mary i believe?) watching her leave that tiny town and finally get rid of everything in it. WE'RE FINALLY FUCKING DONE THAT TOOK SO LONG </333

#lockwood and co #locklyle #lucy carlyle #anthony lockwood #george karim