#(it was When Bad Things Happen to Good People)

[bugswarm]

The more Im on tumblr today, the more pro-genocide Im getting so Im logging off because holy fuck this website's response is so bad to the point where Im happy with the idea of genocide and that's insane

Edit because yall can't fucking having reading comprehension: this post is not about palestine. This is not the first time Ive drawn the short end of the stick. This post is not about Trump directly even. This post about about all of the people saying that voting for one shitty candidate to stop the literal worst case scenario from controlling the strongest military on the planet again is somehow too fucking hard and morally compromising and how it is making me question if the intrusive thoughts are actually right and that maybe it's not worth the years and years of activism and local action Ive been doing to try to stop this exact scenario from happening isn't worth continuing when I don't even know if we'll get another election in 4 years. Especially when I know that if people can't even do the absolute barest fucking minimum of voting, there is literally zero chance that this will ever be fixed. If we can't even fucking vote against the most cartoonishly evil man alive, how the fuck am I supposed to believe in things like overthrowing the government or ending white supremacy? Thats what this fucking post is about. If you thought differently, you are stupid and if you decided to attack me over it, you are the reason that the intrusive thoughts are winning so good job on making me fantasize about the US getting nuked and not feeling that bad about it.

[qqueenofhades]

I don’t have any words right now for what’s happened. Where in the fuck do we go from here?

I don't know. I really, truly don't know. We can't sugarcoat how bad things are going to get, and we can't pre-emptively give into it anyway. This is going to be an unprecedented time in American history (if, sadly, not world history) and the forces conspiring to make you obey will gain much of their power from you doing so in advance, without a struggle. It seems fair to say that America as it has always been historically constituted is over, and may not return in our lifetimes, but we also do not know that for a fact. If nothing else, the fascists will find it very hard to cancel competitive elections, and we cannot sit back, throw up our hands, conclude that voting is clearly meaningless, and let them do that. There are a lot of other things that we need to do, but that's one.

There are various postmortems to be written and nits to pick, but Harris was thrown into an impossible situation and did the best she could in 100 days. Even her critics agree she ran a pretty much flawless campaign. But this country simply decided that a well-qualified black woman could not be preferred over the most manifestly and flagrantly unfit degenerate to ever occupy the office. They decided this for many reasons, not least because large swathes of the country now live in curated misinformation bubbles that, under Government Czar Musk, will only get much, much worse. They were helped by the cowardice and complicity of the "mainstream media" that could have ended Trump's career exactly like they did to Biden after the first debate, but chose to preserve the profits of their billionaire oligarch owners and did not do so, giving Trump the benefit of the doubt and normalization at every turn. They also hounded Biden relentlessly over the four years of his presidency, never reported on the good things he did, and drove him to the historically bad approval ratings lows for a president who was by any metric, quite successful (and will quite possibly be our last ordinary American president for a very long time). Along with the searingly ingrained racism and misogyny and misinformation, Harris could not overcome that.

Democrats clearly had a messaging problem, but it's also true that the country, quite simply, does not care about "democracy" when the economy is perceived to be at stake. Not to over-egg the Hitler parallels, but yeah. This is how Hitler returned to power in 1933 -- on the backs of widespread economic collapse of the Weimar Republic; voters decided they just didn't care about the overtly fascist stuff, which he then proceeded to you know, do with genocidal vigor. Except the American economy in this case was actually doing well, which makes it even more baffling and indefensible. Enough people simply memory-holed Trump's crimes (aided at every turn by SCOTUS, Mitch McConnell not convicting him after January 6, Merrick Garland being far too slow and timid, the corporate media), liked the racist fascist behavior or felt that it wasn't a dealbreaker, and decided that in this election, he was the "change" candidate. It's insane by any metric, but that's what happened.

The country is deeply sick. We do not know what will happen. It's going to get bad. Barring a miracle, we will not have federalized abortion rights again in my lifetime, and there will be widespread attacks on public health, women's rights, immigrants, transgender people, and other vulnerable people. Even and especially the ones who voted for Trump. Never Thought Leopard Would Eat My Face, etc. Alito and Thomas will swiftly step down and allow their seats to be replaced by 40-year old wingnuts hand-selected from the worst the Federalist Society has to offer. SCOTUS is gone for the next generation at least. There is very little prospect of it being ever fixed in the foreseeable future.

Trump will never face a scintilla of consequences for his previous crimes; all the open federal cases will be closed as soon as he takes office and fires Jack Smith. The best we can hope for is that he dies in office, but then we get Vance and the cadre of alt-right techno billionaires ruled directly from the Kremlin. Putin is celebrating this morning and with good reason; he's gotten everything he wants. Trump will egg on Netanyahu in Gaza and abandon Ukraine. Democracy across the world will remain even more fragile and badly under threat. Authoritarians will be empowered and American withdrawal from international systems will percolate in very dangerous ways that cannot and will not be fixed in the short run. I really hope all the leftists who celebrate this as the "defeat of the genocide candidate" will enjoy all the genocide and suffering that's about to come. And yes, I do think the Israel-Palestine war fucked us in a large way. Jewish voters perceived the Democrats as insufficiently pro-Israel due to the presence of far-left antisemitism, even as the far left attacked the Democrats relentlessly and never targeted the Republicans. Arab voters abandoned them, possibly deservedly. What would have happened without the war? We don't know. You get the historical period that you get. Netanyahu and Trump can now do anything they want. Hope it was worth it.

As I said, I can't sugarcoat it. We are going to be paying for this in some form for the next decade, and probably longer. I'm not as absolutely shattered as I was in 2016, but I am much, much angrier. We all thought, we all hoped, America was better than this. It isn't. That, however, is something that has also happened before. What we decide to do next will shape how the next chapter unfolds.

This would be a great time to stock up on needed medicines, renew your passport online, and anything else you need to do in preparation for next year. Many of us simply do not have the wherewithal, whether financial or otherwise, to leave the country. I don't know what will happen with me. I don't know what will happen to any of us. This was utterly avoidable and yet, America didn't want to avoid it. At some point, there's nothing else you can do. You can point to media cronyism, Russian influence, etc etc., but the fact that two of the most qualified presidential candidates who happened to be women have now lost to Trump twice makes it unavoidable. The virulent rightward shift of young men (of all races) in particular paints a grim picture as to how the reactionary misogyny of the 21st century is going to essentially undo most of the progress for social and gender equality in the 20th. The patriarchy has been a problem for most of human history. Doesn't really seem like it's going to change.

The end result of this, however grim: we're still here. We are still living within our communities. If (and this is a big if) Democrats can retake the House, they can put some checks on the process for the next two years. At this point, we are in full-out buying-time, trying-to-prevent-the worst mode. We could have continued fixing things, but we won't be doing that. We will only be trying to preserve ourselves and our friends and our smaller spheres of influence. It sounds very trite to say that we have to have courage, but we do. There's not much else.

It's going to be an awful winter. We have two and a half months to see this coming and know how bad it's going to be, and... yeah. I don't know how soon the buyer's remorse will inevitably set in, but it will. Tough luck, people. You voted for him. You get the country that you decide to have. But the rest of us are also here, and what Gandalf says is still true. We wish the Ring had never come to us, we wish none of this had happened, but we still have to decide what to do with the time that is given to us.

I don't have a lot more. I'll probably be logging off for a while. I don't need to look at the internet for.... yeah, a long time. (Will I do it anyway? Probably.) I don't know what else to leave you with, aside from again:

Do not obey in advance. Do not act as if everything is foreordained and set in stone. Fascist regimes end. They always do. We are going to have to figure out how, and it will suck shit, but the alternative is worse.

Take care of yourselves. I love you.

[txttletale]

"you, specifically, are a bad and evil person that all my posts are written to condemn" this is not what i said. i'm sorry for not being clearer. i just feel like everyone in this space, not just you, look down on people who live in the first world as people who willingly don't change anything about how the world works when it's just not that simple. i know you all love to combat this and say otherwise but it will never change the simple reality that for some people it really is very hard, if not impossible, to do anything politically, for a variety of reasons. i'm disabled, i live in a remote part of the country, and i'm bad at talking to people. i don't have the money to just move to a population center or get lessons on how to speak to people. i can't do anything and i feel like every time you or one of the other communists on tumblr talks about the imperial core, i feel like i, personally, am being held to an unreasonable standard that i would not hold anyone else to, if i were in one of your situations. obviously i want things to change. i don't want genocide to be a thing that's constantly happening, i don't want my country to have its tendrils dug into every other country, i want socialism and eventually global communism, and if i could do anything meaningful-- anything at all-- to achieve those goals i would be working on that. but right now that just is not the case for me, and i feel like i'm not alone in that either. i just wish you had like a smidgen of empathy for some of the people living here who don't fit into your stereotype of what a member of the imperial core looks like-- i'm not even trying to say that sarcastically, it genuinely feels like you all don't see us as human. like nyanguard especially seems to think of us as incapable of saving ourselves, and one of the reblogs to my first ask just said they "like to imagine that (i'm) crying as i type this". how am i supposed to react to that? is this how all of you feel about people like me? would your feelings about me change if i lived in another country, or would you find some other excuse to talk down to me? is it really just the country i live in that's the problem, here? i'm not trying to accuse you, i'm asking this question genuinely.

i know it's tempting to respond to this with a snarky comment but please just try to understand where i am coming from. i really am willing to help if i can.

i don't think any marxist seriously has a political theory of imperialism that amounts to "citizens of the imperial core simply choose not to do anything because they are all individually bad people". i mean the whole point of marxism is that economic relations are the ultimate drivers of historical change, not abstract psychological or moral qualities of people.

i'm sympathetic to your situation! the imperial core is a very atomizing place to live, and there are places and situations where there's just no practical path to getting organized and taking meaningful political action in the near future. however, your problem here is:

i feel like i, personally, am being held to an unreasonable standard that i would not hold anyone else to

nobody is posting about you, personally. like at the end of the day you have to learn to either not take posts like that personally or just block everyone who makes them to manage your own time on the computer vis a vis niceness--i don't think it's the responsibility of me or any other communist to constantly provide asterisks and carveouts that we're not talking about the Good Ones Who Have Extenuating Circumstances when we talk about the usa and its material political base.

& in the same way that you ask for empathy for your situation i would ask you to extend a level of understanding to people whose homelands and countrymen and communities have been devastated by US coups and sanctions and invasions, that they have as much a right to express the rage and fury and hurt of that cultural legacy as you do to express your own sadness about your own situation. imagine, for example, how you would feel if your grandparents could not reliably get medicine because of us sanctions. & of course the correct target for these feelings are not random usamericans--but these posts are also not serious politcal platforms, they are venting from people who live their lives under the weight of empire.

if you think what they're saying is unfair to you, then you need to develop the ability to say 'well, i understand why they would feel that way' and move on. like i understand why you are upset, and i don't say this to be dismissive, but as real advice: it is not fair (especially to bloggers from the global south) to essentially rest your happiness and self-worth at their feet and demand that they validate you.

genuinely, i hope this helps. it's all i really have to say on the matter.

[andhumanslovedstories]

I am not closely following the election results tonight, but I am occasionally seeing flashes of them out of the corner of my eye. The most obvious sign that things aren’t going well right now is the complete lack of celebrating on my dash. I know what tumblr looks like when it’s happy. Maybe I’ll go to bed tonight and see something different in the morning. I hope to god that is the case. But I’m thinking about the way I’m thinking right now, and I want to get some stuff down before the future kicks in.

In 2016 I was in a period of my life I affectionately refer to as as my fuckup era. I wasn’t even fucking up really. More just chilling out and falling short of the vague expectations I’d had about what I was supposed to be doing after I graduated college. While my friends from college rented apartments in the city and got jobs that didn’t supply you with a uniform shirt, I lived at home and worked as a barista at a fancy movie theater. That’s a real job you can do for almost five years. I didn’t have a clue what the back half of my twenties should look like. The only long term plan I had in my life was moving out west with my best friend, and my plan for finding a job once I was out there was basically to cross my fingers and hope.

Those days weren’t bad on the whole, but it felt like I was not actually living a life so much as I was goofing off in the waiting room. Sometimes that felt embarrassing, sometimes it felt fun, and sometimes it felt like I was completely pointless to the world.

On 2016’s Election Day, I went to bed early. After watching the votes come in, I needed the night to be over. I woke in a world that felt different than it had been the night before—not just in the actuality of who would be president but down to its foundations. I realized for the first time how much hope I’d had in human nature because now I didn’t feel it anymore. It’s almost silly when I think about it—so many horrible things had already happened that year, people had done horrible things as long as there have been people, and I didn’t think I was naive to that—but something clicked into place that morning.

It felt the same way my world had changed a year earlier, in 2015 during my last semester of college. My college victory lap felt like a prolonged downward spiral. Very early in the morning on a Monday, after pulling an all-nighter and overwhelmed by self-loathing that I could not just motivate myself to work on a paper that had been my only thought all weekend, I self-harmed for the first time in a way that was impossible to pretend it was anything else. Earlier that weekend, I’d tried staving off the urges drawing or writing on my arm, something that did (and does) usually work. I’d written this quote in silver sharpie on my forearm: “Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.”

I picked that quote from the Ms. Marvel comics and liked the words so much, I thought that I wouldn’t be willing to purposefully mess it up by hurting myself there. Didn’t work. They just made me feel more ashamed of myself as I did it.

That was the worst I had ever felt. Then, on the Friday of that week, a friend of mine was senselessly, brutally murdered.

It doesn’t feel now like there was ever a time before her death. My memoir class is now where I wrote about her. My favorite professor is now the one who held me as I cried. My final thesis, the culmination of my history degree, never got finished and certainly never got polished. I turned it what I had and got an A minus. Sometimes I think of rereading that paper to see if that’s the grade it actually deserved. We hadn’t been the closest friends, but my name was still on the email admin sent to professors, listing students who might be emotionally affected by this tragic event. Grace’s murder hangs over every memory I have with her and everything she ever touched. It feels like its own type of obliteration to leave her reduced to her death.

Grace wanted to be a lawyer because she believed in justice and also liked arguing. She could be rude when she wasn’t interested in what you were saying. When you caught her attention, you felt like the most fascinating person in the room. She was so proud of being Jewish. I watched her become proud of being gay. She was so universally friendly that it took me a year to realize that she actually liked specifically me. She had a somewhat silly laugh and an astonishingly luminous smile.

I thought less of the world and the people in it because of how she died. Trump’s election in 2016 felt like that.

After he won, I left stasis. From November through December, I thought harder about my future than I ever had before. Who did I want to be? What did I most value? What did I think was worth protecting? What work wouldn’t kill me to do? At one point, in presumably a fit of madness, I thought, “what if I got into politics.” Epiphany eventually hit me. By the time of Trump’s inauguration, I was already enrolled at community college, getting my pre-reqs for nursing school.

Now it’s election night again, eight years later. I live on the west coast with my best friend, in a house that we bought together. I work as a nurse in a hospital in a city where there are homeless encampments off every highway and someone begging for change on every corner. Meanwhile, there’s Palestine. Meanwhile there’s Sudan. Meanwhile refugees drown in the sea and border patrol shoots jugs of water. Even hurricanes have human cruelty now.

I don’t think people are inherently good or the universe inherently kind. But I am very good at tricking myself into thinking it for a little while, and when I do, I can remember the a specific feeling from Friday of my senior year, from that morning in November— how fucking hard the disappointment hit me because I had expected people to be better than this. It makes me want to be better than that.

I believe, and hope that I always will, that we can make a better world. I don’t know what it looks like, but I think I will see it in my lifetime. Those of us who can believe such things owe a bit of that naïveté to the world—not to excuse atrocities or think them impossible but to believe that we can stop them at all. You have to have a couple people sprinkled around who are genuinely shocked when people do bad things. It’s not that the pessimists are wrong, but you need the occasional counterbalance. I want to be a reasonable cynic’s pleasant surprise.

Every shift, I interact with people at their lowest and worst. I see the direct pipeline from pain to anger to violence, and how fragile that pipeline can be. So many situations can be changed by things as small as a warm blanket or a kind word. Violence can be quite easy to avert. Crises can be quite simply to resolve. Even when I know that whatever I do that shift will not change the circumstances of a person’s life, I think that what I do that shift still matters.

I’m lying in bed, writing this post instead of looking at the news. I wonder how tonight will change me. Been thinking about what I’ll do if Trump wins. Been thinking about how whatever I think I need to do under Trump will still need to be done if Harris clutches out a victory. I guess this is a pessimist’s optimism: to a degree the election doesn’t matter. Good is not a thing you are. It is a thing you do. Our better world will always take a lot of work.

But please god please, why can’t it be just a little easier to do it?

[t2316m]

Tim Drake has a hatred for Sherlock Holmes, has he ever read the books? No but his dad used to insultingly call him Sherlock as a kid when he was being too nosy or curious and now even when people say it as a compliment it just irks him

Jason being the resident classic literature nerd is dead set on at least having Tim read the books so he can either A. Actually like the books and accept that Sherlock is actually a pretty cool guy to be compared too, or B. Give actual tasteful criticism and insults based on the contents of the book

Jason could care less which happens he’s just tired of Tim ranting about his hatred for Sherlock despite not knowing a thing about Sherlock

——

Tim: Sherlock this, Sherlock that, I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that stupid hat

Jason: The hat really isn’t even mentioned in the books, You’d know if you read them

Tim: I’m not reading them, they really can’t be that good in fact Sherlock was so bad even his literal creator wanted nothing to do with him

Jason: Your dad wanted nothing to do with you and you’re still a pretty good detective

*Cue Dick yelling at Jason cause “that wasn’t nice”

[jack-bytez-genuine-corner]

All of the interests that pushed him over the finish line this time have competing interests.

Republicans in his own party have no care but for their own power and relevancy. This is why they couldn't pass more than a tax cut for 2 years while he was in office last time. Wallstreet wanted the immediate sell off effect we are seeing. The ideologoues like SCOTUS, Heritage don't want a dictator but an authoritarian state they can control without risking retribution via voters. Trump wants full power including to kill his political adversaries and be Hitler.

Trump, in pursuit of that will force Wallstreet to deal with an economic recession that'll make COVID look quaint similar to how COVID made the great depression look small caused by terrible Republican economic policies. Yay, you get your tax cut, but now no one has money to buy milk that is 20 dollars instead of 10 a gallon cause the plastic is sourced from China which now has a 200% tarriff on it, do you set the price to 5 dollars so it's still 10 or do you let your company burn? This pits Wallstreet against the ideologoues. The Republican party wants to makes Trump all powerful, but dictators do not need supreme courts to overrule them, and even if they want to stack the courts they are going to be forced to toe that Trump line to stay in favor and in power even in the Courts, so what happens when you piss Trump off? What happens when Boebert an Gaetz isn't center stage like they like but these right wing judges who are upstaging them? You're telling me the same people who couldn't elect a speaker by majority vote will suddenly be disciplined enough to pass laws? Lol.

It's a circle jerk of bad outcomes for them, and the worst decision they made was refusing the olive branches Biden and thereby Harris gave to them. Reminder that Biden called segregationists good politicians, Biden called McConnell his friend even though McConnell is nigh solely responsible for Republicans stacking the courts like an asshole. These institutionalists were the fire wall between progressives being the majority of the party and Republican Lites running the show, and with the rebuke of Harris and other institutionalist Dems it will accelerate the push towards a populist message which will make Trump's racist panderings look like an old man badly performing the script of a porno. To make matters even worse, getting rid of McCarthy and McConnell in the same majority means that the Senate will descend into an absolute shit show not unlike the House.

Trump won off the backs of people choosing not to vote and a high energy Republican base with an entire media apparatus run by the wealthy doing everything in their power on every network to give him a leg up, and now that they caught the car and will have power: Now what? If Trump is Trump it will absolutely piss everyone off like it did in 2016 to 2020 which saw Republicans lose repetitively, but they can't stop running Trump cause he's the only thing their sexist racist audience likes, so now you have all the people who worked hard to push an election in Trump's favor now faced with reality: When the people you helped put in don't want you to have money and power when all you want is your own money and power, do you lay down and admit defeat, which you TOTALLY aren't, or do you have to readjust and realize that there will BE no Wallstreet, no Courts, no Republican party if you actually do what Trump tells you to do.

I'm banking on their insatiable greed and lust for power personally. The only bad part is innocent people will suffer cause we don't have compulsory voting in this country.

If it makes any of you feel better, Donald Trump will have an uphill battle to change the constitution. He will need:

-2/3 of Senators (60)

-2/3 of the House of Representatives (290)

-3/4 of the states (38)

In 2026, 33 senate seats will be up for grabs, and we’ll be able to vote for people who are against Trump and his ideals.

Breathe and remain hopeful because it’s not over. We can still fight and make Trump’s last four years hell.

[emperor-kumquat]

Fuck It

I am a gay trans immigrant in a deep red state in America. I came here for my partner's sake and have been making the best of it. The culture shock was hard, coming from Canada. In fact, we loved mocking Americans back home so it was hard for me to even like Americans. My instinct was to judge them as stupid. But it is never fair to judge people as all the same for something they can't help like nationality.

Each day, I looked for the goodness in the hearts of Americans. I tried to see that we weren't so different. I started to meet neighbours while taking care of the stray cats. I began volunteering at the city's animal shelter to start making a change. I wanted to see other good people and feel kinship.

Seeing the election results has just... hurt me. I feel so betrayed. I step outside and now know more than half of the adults out there don't care about what happens to me. I will work alongside volunteers, wondering if any of them voted for Trump. I will watch them do good deeds for animals, and wonder, how could you vote for someone who hurt people and the planet?

People in America will lose their rights. Women, immigrants, LGBTQ+, the disabled, and minorities across the board. Wars will be funded and slaughter will increase in other countries. Pollution will skyrocket with Republicans and their love of cars and oil. That affects everyone... Haven't we had enough forest fires and storms? We cannot deny climate change any longer.

I am not running away yet. I am staying. I will not be silent. I will be openly trans. They don't see us enough. They think we are boogeymen. They don't even know us. This is why it is so important to have a Pride flag and wear Pride things. We will not hide and be scared and ashamed. We will not be erased and keep hearing lies about us from the hateful ignorant.

I will protest alone with signs. And if or when things get really bad. I will be LOUD.

Fuck everyone who voted for Trump without a care for people like me. Fuck you to hell. You have no heart. Unfollow me. I assume on Tumblr most people are Democratic so that's all good, but I just have to get this off my chest.

I don't want anything bad to happen to me, but if I disappear, this is why. Republicans are hateful and many are violent. It's not a lie when their campaigns lie and fearmonger about specific groups of people.

Fuck, fuck, fuck you, Trump-supporters.

[rxmxa]

random astro observations part 14. ⋆.˚🦋༘⋆✨

✨just for fun im just talking random ass shit based on PERSONALL observations..✨ part 13 here. 🎬

tw: mention of death on the last observations.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅pisces, cancer and scorpio risings WILLL be treating the date like a job interview. With that earth 7h (virgo, capricorn and taurus) TRUST that we have checked out your references and will get back to you in 2-5 business days. 💅 but no fr we need security bc we are real strict over here.🔒

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅its only to protect our hearts bc we just truly desire someone we can emotionally connect with (water 5h) and also be open to talk to about our fears and desires and the other shit we keep to ourselves (air 8h + 12h) 😤

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅my friend was telling me about how the lines that actors get immense praise for end up being improvised most of the time and that really reminded me of the aqua-leo axis. When you detach and are willing to experiment (aqua) the more likely you are to be recognized because you are becoming in tune with your natural talents (leo).

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅Every single time I'm in the shower I always get an epiphany or an idea of some sort or make a connection (usually its me thinking about peoples birth charts LOL) but every single fucking time im like wtf I gotta remember this when I get out this is good ass info! and I always forget!!!

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅^ It has to be my uranus in the 12h triggering that. Uranus= sudden downloads of information. 12h= secluded spaces, like the shower. I guess thats why I forgot so easily though (real 12h subconcious shit). Next time im bringing a whiteboard in there or some shit

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ I was talking to my pisces venus coworker and she was saying that for as long as she could remember she had always daydreamed of love. She said she would was always trying to mold herself into the ideal version of what her crushes liked (its in her 7h) and as a 7h sun myself I was shook but I also understood how this happens even in a subconcious way u can mirror people. but the love she's looking for is literally HERS. she has so much love to give and she was like who can accept this? YOU. GIVE it to yourself.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ She had been in a relationship before with someone who was SHIT person but its like she kept forgiving him or in a sense blocking it out. like thats the thing about pisces placements they will talk about some unhinge ass shit someone does to them in a such a casual way it will have you being like oh okay for a sec until you're like oh,, oh yeah no thats bad.. really bad. I say this as a pisces rising.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ and AGAIN AND AGAIN that's what helps me as someone with a lot of neptune aspects, a pisces rising, pluto squares, pluto in the 10h, lilith in the 11h, like ppl have done me FUCKING DIRTY in social and groups settings and I use to make it so much worse for myself by not nipping it in the bud. that's why anytime someone does some shit that FEELS FUCKED up you take that as a sign.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ^ dont sit there and try to rationalize it, dont try to put logic in it, dont talk about how well, when they were in 2nd grade their hamster died so maybe its their trauma. When people show you who they are you ACCEPT IT. if someone does something that a piece of shit would only do, then accept that maybe they suck. I dont mean your friend forgot to get you a straw when they bought you a drink. I mean when people do shit on purpose that puts your well-being (emotional, mental, physical) in harms way. trust me bby ik what im talking about >___<

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ and honestly, if you are plutonian or have a lot of neptune aspects or saturn in your chart as well, you're gonna learn shit the hard way. With different energy ofc. Pluto energy = will have you learning through trauma like someone passing away or trying to sabotage you. Neptune energy = will have you learning through deception like someone backstabbing you. Saturn energy= will have you learning through roadblocks, like other people being able to get shit the easy way out like a parent paying for their stuff and you having to bust your ass to get it.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ pluto in your chart can also show where people try to humble you, not like a saturnian restrictive way but more like to put you in your place because they could feel intimidated. for ex I have pluto in the 10h and my coworkers will say backhanded shit like "Oh woooow you really are going all out huh?" like instead of being normal and being like wow that is great work! they try to subtly hint that maybe im the one doing too much instead of it being them doing the bare minimum.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ If you have pluto in the 1h people could just say in general that "you're too much" or "too much to deal with" or "abrasive." Pluto in the 3h and during conversations people might look around, eyes wide, wanting you to tone it down or say that you're being inappropriate or too intense. Pluto in the 4h and people ESPECIALLY your family trying to humble you by bringing up the past: "Oh you like that now? I remember when you were a kid you..." Pluto in the 4h will especially get humbled by their family anytime they want to change or try something different than the way they were raised, like girl?! this is a family not a damn CULT.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ I have a pluto in the 4h friend who has family members that will tell the most fucked up stories about what they do to each other but then sigh and be like "but family is family so we have to accept them" or her family members say stuff like "blood is thicker than water." like no... pluto in the 4h ppl, family is who YOU CHOSE!

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ I have a coworker who is sooo nice to me but still theres something that makes me feel suspicious of her and it makes me feel so bad BUT TO BE FAIR she does have her mars in my 7h and we did have a slight rift when we first started working together. but even now, im still like do u secretly hate me...

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ She has mars in the 12th house and I also feel like thats a big factor in it because 12h house energy is so... MUTED. with placements there you really gotta focus on peoples subtle acts of support that reveal their intentions versus their words (or lack of). And so far she has been a very supportive and helpful coworker. But yeah thats 12h energy honestly like my friends brother is a cancer sun and mercury in the 12h and she feels like hes so unloving and unsupportive and its bc baby boy is not gonna be straight up telling her! she needs to watch his actions, his mannerisms. she needs to understand him more through his actions over time rather than words. ofc it varies from chart to chart.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ people with 12h mars could often have people WONDERING, "oh are they mad at me?" or sun 12h ppl could have people wondering, "oh what are they hiding from me?" or mercury in the 12h could have people wondering, "Oh, what is that they are not saying?"

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ Do you follow your profection years? For me, it’s wild how they line up. When I was in a 7H year, I got into my first serious relationship (classic 7H relationships vibe). When I was 7 years old, in my 8H year, my dad passed away (8H ruling death). Fast forward to my 9H year (travel), I visited family abroad after four years—that’s the longest I’ve EVER gone without seeing them.Then, in my 10H year (careers), I literally started my career. My 12H year? traumatic as fuck (I got into a serious car accident with friends and my back was fucked up and my friend had internal bleeding) but honestly the aftermath of that really forced me to grow the fuck up and surprise surprise, all of that happened bc I wasnt trusting my gut on who I was hanging out with. but anyhoo. Now I’m in a 1H year, and it’s all about me. I’m actually focusing on myself and being way more gentle in the process. It’s been kind of nice, honestly. if u wanna know yours just google annual profections it'll show u the wheel :)

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ Saturn transits in your chart mean fucking BUSINESS! I remember my friend got married when saturn (commitments) was transiting her 7h (marriage/ contracts). Saturn transits will have you reflecting on what you want long term in your life and what desperately needs to be checked in on or discarded or cleaned up.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ Saturn in pisces transiting in my first house had me acting right. I remember when a "friend" aka someone who was at fault with that whole car accident shit (someone who I dont speak to anymore) had asked me to do some shady shit after it. I was like FUCK NO! no bc 1) I have integrity but also 2) if I tried to take the easy way out or bullshit I knew saturn was gonna beat my ass HARDER. im glad I trusted myself and was the bigger person.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ Saturn was still transiting my 1H during the accident, but it had just come out of my 12H, where I was actively in therapy. In my 1H, I’d been feeling way more at peace and healed, so when I started making questionable choices with who I was hanging out with, it was like Saturn decided it was time to knock some sense into me.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ Me: walking on the ledge, ignoring my instincts, hanging with toxic people Saturn: "Don’t do that, you’re gonna fall." Me: falls Saturn: "DIDN’T I FUCKING TELL YOUUU?!"

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ but you know you live and you learn and at the end of the day it could have been so much worse (aka all of us being dead) but me and friend made a full recovery and everyone else had minor injuries.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ I was watching this video called "the root cause of addiction" and in the video he said that at the end of the day we're are just looking for ways to go back to that child we once were and to experience genuine joy. and that was so 5h coded to me. He said in the video we do things like cooking or play video games because we want to get that joy back. The 5th house is all about sex, good fortune, art, creativity, pleasure, entertainment, birth, children. We really can use our 5th house to actively nurture our inner child.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ for example, cancer or moon in the 5th house wants to go back to space where they feel safe, warm, and comfortable. feeling free to express ur softness and vulnerability. a place you love going back to! they can do this through cooking, baking, or watching your childhood favorite movie with family.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ the little things, like baking a pie or getting out an old art project help us connect with the childlike wonder and happiness that we still have inside us. You can find your own special, simple pleasures by looking into the 5th House in your chart. And even if ur childhood was not the best (I completely get that) you can nurture your inner child now !! your hobbies and fave past times r not silly they matter too

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ and think about the 5h-11h axis, if anything your hobbies and creativity (5h) helps you find your people and be in groups that actually align with what u love and care about (11h)

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚and think about how sometimes that hobby or passion (5h) can bring u immense success, recognition and profit (11h)

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ with pluto in aqua we are going to see people (aqua) transforming (pluto) their lives in all aspects in regard to their hobbies and passions (5h). People are gonna continue to explore what they love and find their niche and for some their success will skyrocket over night, for others the process might be slower. think about the ppl making bank rn from tiktok videos organizing their fridge. bc it just makes them happy to do it.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ tw: death. I'm not trying to end on a dark note, its merely a thought I had so please take this with a grain of salt. but speaking of pluto in aqua, that reminds me of this video I was watching about how the Romans would have the Gladiatorial games, where combatants fought each other or wild animals to the death, BECAUSE they were so overindulgent in all other areas in life....

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ like you have sooo much that your idea of pleasure just gets distorted in this sense. what do you want when you have had everything?. The scale of these events was astonishing, with sometimes hundreds of animals being killed in a single day. Pluto in aqua is going to transform the way as a society we view, experience and talk about death.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ there are ppl that are gonna have so much wealth and power and be so fucking bored that maybe in 20 years from now someone gets jailed or some shit to try to recreate that. I remember reading this story in high school about this rich man who had an isolated island and he would have people lost on it to hunt them for sport. iM NOT SAYING we're about to get put on the wall like those deers when pluto goes into aqua, im SAYING THO that shit like that, ideas like that, could pop up

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ I was also thinking about how pluto in aqua could mean more video games or tech or simulations (aqua) where you can try out how it feels like to die (pluto). like you can pick how and what you want to feel. some kind of shit like that. tech is only gonna keep getting more and more advanced now. we talk about the ipad kids and how they be on there typing and facetiming ppl and therye like 2 but imagine the kids growing up during pluto in aqua, I already know theyre gonna think we're soo uncool hahaha

[gooddogbestfriend]

ID: various gifs of LOTR scenes overlaid with subtitles, all spoken by Sam unless otherwise noted.

Sam, tired, says "By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are."

A dragon flies over a ruined bridge. "It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were."

Frodo looking exhausted and apathetic. "And sometimes you didn't want to know the end, because how could the end be happy?"

An army charges forward. "How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened?"

Gandalf, shining in bright sunlight. "But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass."

Broken war machinery washes over a waterfall. "A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer."

Ents, giant tree people, stand strong in a river's current. "Those were the stories that stayed with you, that meant something, even if you were too small to understand why."

The tower of Sauron, smoking and sunlit. "But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now."

Sam, leaning on a rock wall. "Folk in those stories had a lot of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding onto something."

Frodo asks, "What are we holding onto, Sam?"

Sam kneels to look him in the eye and replies, "That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for."

Frodo looks back at Sam. End ID.

It's only a passing thing, this shadow.

[theminecraftbee]

because it amused my friends but is also a useful metaphor, i'm going to tell a story now: so there was this one time i punched my dentist.

i have never done something like that before or since. i was getting a filling, see, very routine. (side note: i quite liked that dentist; he has since retired but he's always been not exactly "nice" but not mean about things like this. had a specific manner that worked well with my anxiety.) the dentist numbed the nerve that went to that part of my jaw and got stuff to start on the work.

what neither he nor i knew was this: i was actually in the small percentage of people that actually needed a SECOND nerve numbed to fully numb that part of my face. so when he started trying to do the "drill the cavity and give the filling" part, i started to feel pain. now, he'd warned me ahead of time this was a possibility! there was a thing i was supposed to do if that happened!

what actually happened is that my brain went: "I NEED TO MAKE THIS STOP I'M GONNA PUNCH THIS GUY".

i then immediately burst into tears.

luckily my dentist is a dentist and has had people fight-or-flight far more spectacularly and also far more effectively given that i don't know how to hit people. i managed to do exactly jack shit and he was bemused afterwards.

the thing is: this was not a sensible response to the situation! the dentist still had both a drill and a needle! i was way more likely to hurt myself than the dentist! my brain did not care. i was experiencing an adrenaline response, my brain felt helpless in the face of the pain to flight, so fight it was.

anyway, that's the emotion i am currently experiencing. i do not have the capacity to flight. so goddamn is my brain trying to find a good way to punch the problem.

this isn't a BAD impulse--hitting the dentist DID make him remove the drill from my mouth--but it's an impulse more likely to hurt me than help me unless i take a moment to go "maybe i SHOULDN'T punch the guy holding sharp objects right at my face", because it's not a rational brain response, it's a pure instinctive response. and it's an indicator i'm in fight-or-flight and should do everything in my power to avoid making any decisions that can't be undone, be those decisions "impulsively buy a bunch of tea" or far more severe.

my brain is currently trying to punch the dentist, and by the dentist i mean the election. i am not trustworthy.

but what i CAN do is this: i am going to volunteer at my local homeless shelters. this is an action i can channel my desire to punch the problem into that will help someone. look up your local volunteer organizations. organize into action. and do something that's more like "inform the dentist in the way you planned ahead of time that you're hurting" than "punch him and nearly get your eye poked out", you know?

and we will continue.

[backinmyphase]

Just a heart broke bitch!

Synopsis. Only 24 hours passed since your ex ended it. So why did you find yourself in a club waiting for someone to fuck? Someone like Satoru Gojo?

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, college! Gojo, Satoru is down bad and reader doesn't know, overstím, (not mentioned but reader is on the pill), nipple sucking

Word count. 2.2k

A/N. I have never written smut before, so this is more like an experiment hehe

"Shouldn't we at, fuck! hah~ l-least have a first date?"

Gojo had that smug smile on his face as his eyes looked down at your body, inspecting the sweat that was shining from your naked chest. Behind his smugness you could see his back tense up. Just as sweaty as yours. His hair disheveled, standing up in all directions.

"S-shut u-AAAAAAh-" you gasped and couldn't keep the moan in as he made you shudder with his-

"Up."

A little context to this situation you found yourself in. You were in a shit position. A couple of hours before you sat at the table of a cafe trying to grasp what was happening right there.

"What?"

"We should break up." your, well now ex-boyfriend didn't have any readable expression on his face. "I can't do this anymore."

"What do you mean with this?" your body stiffened, no seeable reaction shown.

"I heard about how you acted in high school. About your little adventures with your friends." his look was different from before. It was filled with- "I don't want a girlfriend which is a slut. Who sucked off more men than she kissed."

Your hand gripped your glass of coffee harder. "Excuse me?"

He shook his head. "You know what I am talking about. Let's just end and forget about this relationship. It was never that good anyway."

And like that he got up and walked away.

And you really wished you got up and gave him a piece of your mind. Tell him how it really was at these parties which you were back then to young to go to. And how the guys you met there knew that. How they used that.

Tell him what kind of entitled asshole he was, to shame you for your old ways of seeking validation.

Back then you were only seventeen. And they were at least twenty one. But you were the filthy slut, who was to wild and surely not loyal enough to be in a relationship, right?

You hated how even now you just swallowed your emotions, your tears and your feeling of self worth.

Because you shouldn't be crying about such an asshole, right? Your friends, well they called themselves that, said not to sulk just search for a new one in the club. They probably told him all about your old stories. Like always when things were going good for you.

They were the only people you had, who stuck by your side. So was it really your fault that you took out your black dress, with your six inch heels?

Yes.

Because even though you wanted to deny it, you liked this boy you had dated. He was your first real relationship, shouldn't that mean something?

But it was never that good anyway, right?

While sitting and sipping champagne in this nightclub, you could already feel your common sense slipping away.

Stupid like back then, because you should know that your friends wouldn't bring you back to your home. Isn't that how you ended up in all these beds? Them doing drugs outside while you were drinking with a guy who will bring you with him, no matter what you really wanted.

You shouldn't trust those people.

It was always just drunk calls, drunk texts, drunk tears, drunk sex.

And those days were behind you. Right?

You wish you could say that. But then you wouldn't be sitting here, dressed up to forget what was really going through your mind right now. No, they weren't behind you and maybe your ex was right.

You stopped smoking along time ago. You stopped following these things that told you you were only something with them. But today was different.

You took some cigarettes that were given to you from some dude with a devious smile. Not your best move. But right now anything was better than you alone in your head.

"This seat free?"

And then there was this guy like your fate was laughing at you. This guy who had this gorgeous white hair and kind of boyish smile. Like a perfect opportunity to forget tonight.

"Yeah, no worries." you were kind of surprised at the sound of your own voice. It was raspier than usual. Like the smoke already made it's mark.

His tall frame lowered onto the seat next to you, his body facing your direction, instead of the bar. He already had this curious look. "So what brings you here alone?"

You shrugged and gave the bartender a sign as you finished your champagne. "Two more wines, please."

The bartender just nodded and fetched you your first one.

"Woah, slow down." The white haired mans expression changed. "That bad down to get wasted?"

"Yeah, well wouldn't be in a Club if not, or would I?" you looked up at his face, and now was your turn to check him out. Other than the fact that he was tall and he was insanely pretty. That was no problem, in fact it helped. But his almost concerned expression wasn't.

"I guess." He tilted his head a bit. "What's your name?"

Maybe it was the alcohol but for some stupid reason you just told him your name. And he leaned forward and whispered.

"I'm Gojo Satoru."

That wasn't ideal. While you didn't really care about your college people, he had quite a name in your college. But any critical thinking was thrown out of the window since your second shot in the last hour.

Amd as you looked at those eyes that had the for you known look in them you whispered back.

"You want to fuck?"

Yeah, your thinking really did leave an hour ago. Because you swore that you would never be in these surroundings and would never ask such a question a stranger again. But like back then you just wanted to forget.

You didn't remember what came next and how you did end up in this small apartment. All you did know that you were impatient at Gojo because he took too long to get on the bed and fuck you.

Why were there two glasses of wine on this table next to him? Were you talking to him? You couldn't remember.

You just knew that you needed something to keep these thoughts away.

"God, you are driving me crazy." he was on top of you, his hands were everywhere, touching you, heating up your body.

"So beautiful for what?" he mumbled, his naked body (wait when did he get naked? When did you get naked? Oh what does it matter...) was pressed against yours as he kissed your lips.

"I need you now." your arms now around him pressing him closer to your, trying to get your aching pulse down there closer to his.

He laughed and laid his head back. "You are acting like a dick you know that?"

"Well you might as well stick it in."

And that's how you ended up under Satoru Gojo as he bullied his far too big cock inside you.

And you could almost swear he was in love with you, with how he clashed on your teeth so messy, so hot, so starved. Like he couldn’t get enough with the way he hastily moves to press wet, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. 

"Oh. Fuck. You are so unfair you know that?" he was heavily gasping for air, but still made sure to leave a kiss after every deep thrust inside you.

"Is that what you wanted? No more thoughts because I fuck you so good?" and he went all the way back out of you just to slam his hips back down again.

"fuck!" you almost screamed as he hit that spot inside again, holding onto his back, no more like clawing at his back for dear life. "right t-there, please!"

His head went lower with his trail of kisses until he reached your chest. "No need to beg, pretty."

Your body is slick with sweat and only growing hotter by the moment; the sound of his rough panting coupled with the occasional whine he lets out only has you panting more.

And he has the nerve to go faster while thrusting inside you. Making you see stars as he kissed your nipples, sucked on them, made out with your chest.

"Satoru!" you moaned, you couldn't do anything else. "You are killing me!"

And even though you were far gone and overstimulated to the moon you could feel his cocky smile at your chest. And he didn't even consider slowing down at your plead, no he more seemed proud of himself making you so fucked out.

How is he fucking you like his life depended on it, couldn't he get tired? Every lasting slap! at your walls had you gasping for air, while he had to close his eyes at how your walls clamped down around him and sucked him back in.

Was this heaven?

"Are you close?" he was out of breath while he stopped sucking for just a second and you would be lying if you said you didn't want him to just continue.

"Yeah, please keep going."

"What did I say about b-begging?" he moaned again. " I'm getting closer myself. Where do you want it?"

And for some dumb reason you screamed-

"Inside!"

And he did. You felt the hot spurt inside you, filling you up, making you feel so full. And yet he didn't stop, no still helped you to reach your high.

And you couldn't help how his frantic hits against your core caused your toes to curl and your back to arch further than ever before as you’re slowly being brought closer to your tense, and awaited edge. “Cumming, cumming!”

"Yeah, just let go for me..." his voice was low amd his face suddenly no longer on your chest, but so close to your own. "Cum for me, pretty girl."

"Ooh... Ah!" it was almost embarrassing how hard you came. But you needed that at this day. Maybe it was far more embarrassing how you were asleep five seconds later.

"Fuck, baby, you are so beautiful..."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"Want a glass of water?"

Your eyes were still sticky, the last night not fully slept away. Where were you? This wasn't your own bed.

You sat up, but realizing that your head would spin and push you down before you could steady yourself. And as you looked up you saw him.

And you remembered what had happened yesterday.

"Wouldn't hurt." he answered himself and sat down next to your, heavy, heavy body and somehow lifted your back so you sat. Bringing the water to your lips.

"Drink so you don't throw up on me now."

You just obeyed him and sipped on the cold water, that went down your aching, dry throat so deliciously. You downed it in one sip.

"That's right." his hand went up and down your back soothing. "You and I had maybe too many drinks yesterday."

And then you realized the situation.

You were sitting here. On the bed of a stranger. With still no clothes on. As you drunkenly followed him into his apartment. What was wrong with your brain?

"Thank you." you took the glass from him. "I'm alright now."

He had that soft smile and something inside it punched you inside your gut.

"Alright I'm doing breakfast now." he stood up and looked amused as you hid yourself under his covers. "You can come when you're ready."

And like that he was out the door. Breathing began to be so much easier. You had to find a way out of here. And quickly, before this was becoming more awkward than it should.

What were you thinking yesterday? Fucking Gojo Satoru of all people? You just proved the point of your ex. You really were a slut.

Your things were all around the room, probably disgarded in the act yesterday. Picking them up and dressing yourself in them again felt nasty, like last night was sticking onto you.

You opened the door and looked around to see the exit. And there it was. The wardrobe with your shoes. You tiptoed there, softly.

"Leaving already?"

You turned around to a Gojo Satoru leaning against the doorframe of the supposed kitchen. He looked amused and had one eyebrow raised.

"Well, yeah... I completely forgot about it, but I have some things to do..." you fiddle with your shoes impatiently.

"Alright, should I bring you home?"

"NO!" You cleared your throat. "I mean- there is really no need."

He shrugged. "If you say so. But be safe and drink at home again."

You nodded and with that you were out.

You didn't remember your old one night stands to be that open and smily. No, they just told you how to leave and slept through the morning, while snoring.

Your phone vibrated inside of your bag. And you could see a message of a new number.

Satoru <333

Hey, get home safe!

Oh and we exchanged numbers yesterday, if you don't remember.

You couldn't help but feel guilty, but you left him on read. Why did he message you? Why was he so nice to you like he wanted to get to know you.

How could you tell him, that you just used him as a good fuck?

[phantomrose96]

Have you considered some of the responses ur getting may not be containment breaches but people kinda rightfully annoyed someone who owns works for a company actively complicit in genocide, who's uniquely privileged to own a home suddenly has an opinion when it could finally affect you? you can tout it like it's for others and ppl shouldn't need to advertise the shit they do off-site to prove they care—but in the same way you know someone's about to be racist or a pain in the ass b/c of the language they use the way you talk abt this shit is a dog whistle for some of us who are already in the trenches.

it's ur blog but if asks are open and u force me to see that bullshit i ain't keepin quiet

Goodness. I need you to know this is deeply not normal.

It is just so deeply not normal to look at someone's blog, which contains a fraction of a fraction of their life, and come to the conclusion that I have too many good things happening, and I haven't sufficiently proven to you that the depth of my moral character also includes caring about other important causes, and therefore me asking people not to elect a fascist dictator is a "dog whistle" for me being a bad person.

Like I cannot reiterate enough how supremely not normal it is to look at someone's anime-icon blog and conclude you know me, like this is somehow the first thing I've ever cared about, and you can patch over the gaping holes in this conclusion by hand-waveishly calling it a "dog whistle" for--again--me saying please don't elect the fascist billionaire.

I'm asking you to hear yourself. This is not normal.

[traumatizedjaguar]

thegirlwhocrieddragon

When trans elder, activist, and organizer Miss Major was imprisoned in the 70s, she was put in solitary confinement. Also in solitary confinement at the time was Frank "Big Black" Smith, iconic Black Panther and organizer of the Attica rebellion.

Miss Major said of Big Black, ���He’s the one that let me know that during things like the riot or getting justice done—stuff lke that—you can’t throw anybody under the bus. You can't leave anybody behind. And that’s become my favorite thing to say to people: I won’t throw anybody under the bus, and I’m not leaving anybody. It has to include us all, or it’s not going to work.”

It has to include us all, or it’s not going to work.

Sontarangaming

Also, on top of everything else, this operates on the same principle as retributive justice vs restorative justice, in that only one of these plans has a real endgame. Lateral violence happens because we view problems in relative terms—and there’s no way around that. And when you’re approaching issues by trying to eliminate the Bad Things, your brain has a way of making those smaller issues feel big, and it becomes cathartic to rip at that problem and feel like you’re doing your part. Issue is, if you don’t focus on the constructive side of your activism, you end up losing the plot in favor of that catharsis.

Two examples of this from different sides of Discourse would be transmeds, who spend time worrying about who is and isn’t trutrans, and the people harassing celebrities with queerbaiting accusations. In both cases, there are some legitimate grievances, and ironically enough, they’re shared grievances a lot of the time. Both are concerned with the ways that their community is othered and marginalized, and they want to do something about that. But in both cases, they focus on individual, small scale perceived issues, and try and tear down those accessible, small issues, rather than look upwards and see the shared enemy of heteronormative patriarchy that creates these issues in the first place.

In both of these cases, you can tell the issues with their approach by looking at their natural conclusions and seeing where they lead, which in both cases is queer spaces and identity being inaccessibly obscure and heavily gated. Comparatively, if a constructive approach is taken, the opposite happens: if, instead of gatekeeping transition to reserve it for the right people, you encourage people to experiment with their gender identity and expression for their own comfort, you solve the potential issue of people transitioning before they’re ready or certain, without the same shitty side effects. If you encourage people to present how they want, you destigmatize femininity and men and masculinity in women, which benefits everyone.

sealpup9

Also, if your goal is just "finding the next enemy" it's easy to get pulled into the mindset that there is always a scapegoat. And the step after that is literally rallying against groups of people... You see where this is going.

Our goals should always be to improve the lives of those around us. Treating people well and rallying with folks for better treatment. The "Us vs. Them" mentality will just cause damage in the long run and can get you into the habit of looking for enemies. When in actuality we all deserve rights and the ability to live life without issues. Doing little things to help people around you is a good place to start :)

I really do think an important component of activism is to make sure your motivation is based on a desire to help/improve things for the people being harmed by a system, and not hatred for the ones doing the harm. both for mental health reasons, and because either way you're training your neural pathways and it's gonna turn out a lot better for literally everyone if the question on everyone's mind after achieving a goal is "how/which people can we help next, what's the next step for improving things" and not "who do we need to attack next."

I'm not saying don't be angry, there are a lot of good reasons to be angry right now and it makes for an excellent kick in the pants, just don't define yourself by it or it's gonna poison you and potentially do collateral damage.

[deadhands69]

Attention

MDNI

Tomura Shigaraki x gn/afab reader

Content/Warnings/Etc: Reader is in the League of Villains, swearing, kissing, uh sex happens.

the world is a lot today, and over 72 million people can suck my dick. hope this helps distract someone at least a little bit

Tomura Shigaraki always wanted attention. He wanted the world to see him. He needed everyone to know what he's capable of. But on a personal level, one to one, he's never considered what that would look like. 

That's why he's surprised to find his favorite box of cereal in the kitchen after your recent grocery trip. 

“Do you like this one too?” he asks casually. 

“It's good, but I got it for you. That's the one you like right?”

“Yeah..” he trails off while pouring himself a bowl. Eyes tracking you in his periphery, more suspicious than the situation necessitates. 

Of course you knew what cereal he would want, why wouldn't you? It's the subtly sweet ones that have flavor but aren't overwhelming. And the pieces are small enough for him to open his mouth slightly without re-splitting his cracked lips. He picks the same cereal to eat nearly every day if it’s an option, you think anyone would have noticed that. 

Later that day, you settle down on the couch to play video games and call him over. Grabbing a random controller for yourself, you hand him the one he likes. The one with the grips that stick a little easier for him to hold without using all of his fingers. He can use the others, absolutely. But after an hour or so the way he shakes his hands out tells you his fingers cramp more.

To you, this was obvious. You didn't think anything of it. 

But for him, no one ever notices these things. Surely, this must be a coincidence. Right? 

That evening, it shouldn't come as a surprise to him when you pass in the hallway, observing him once more as you walk back to your room in a towel after showering. 

“Your shirt is inside out,” you inform him.

“Oh,” he mumbles, choosing to correct the issue immediately. 

Of course you notice the way his abs ripple as he slides the fabric over his head. How couldn’t you?

Your eyes linger too long and he catches you staring. Only now does he realize these coincidences aren’t coincidental at all, he has your full attention. And he doesn’t know what to do with that.

The two of you stand nearly still, switching between heavy eye contact and glances at each other’s bodies. Both growing more flustered by the minute. It’s as good of an invitation as you’re going to get: after what feels like too long, you break the tension by stepping towards him. Pulling him tightly into your arms before smashing your lips into his with the force of months of longing. There’s a momentary pause as he adjusts to your touch before he kisses you back. You would feel a little bad being so rough with his already cracked skin, but he makes no attempts to pull away. Your combined spit softening his chapped lips as the kiss deepens.

A creak echoes down the hallway, he yanks you into his room - decaying your towel in the process.

“Fuck,” he exclaims under his breath while staring you up and down. 

You’d ask if he likes what he sees, but his facial expressions and the tent growing in his sweatpants already gave him away. Your lips find his again as you shove him back on his bed, climbing over his lap. Immediately, you yank off his sweatpants and underwear. You’re already naked so it’s only fair.

You notice the way he presses into you. Back arching, hips jumping in response to your touch. His arms pull you close as he grinds you against him. Palms pressed hard into your shoulder blades with his fingers tightly tucked into fists. He increases the friction, sliding your wetness over his length as you get more and more turned on. 

One thing you hadn’t correctly predicted: you’re not the one in control here. You half assumed he’d be a little clueless about sex. That he’d cream in his pants from a light breeze but here he is, completely naked dragging you over him and you’re about to reach an orgasm first. 

“Just like that, I’m gonna cum,” you exclaim, breath staggering while you grip his hair harder.  He groans at the pull, but continues moving his hips into you in an almost calculated way. Shaking legs and pussy fluttering around nothing, you feel yourself release against him.

“What the fuck,” you moan into his neck while catching your breath, “didn’t think you had that in you.” 

“I guess you’ll have to pay more attention,” he grins before rolling you onto the bed. Quickly, he moves to a box on the shelf over his desk, pulling out a smaller box.

“You just keep those around?” you ask, eyeing the condom he’s putting on. Even more surprises.

“Uh, not quite,” he mumbles, paying more attention to the task at hand. “The rest of the league got me these as a joke when you joined, I just never threw them out.”

How did everyone notice your crush but him? It seems like they tried to tell him but he regarded it suspiciously, assuming everyone was just fucking with him. 

Doesn’t matter, you decide, he definitely knows now.

Seeing him, all of him fully, in front of you takes your already jagged breath away. Fully clothed, Tomura is beautiful. This is overwhelming. The light mist of sweat coating his skin makes the glow from his monitor reflect off the curves of his muscles. Every scar and scratch looking like it was perfectly placed, even if you know the extent he goes to to keep most of them covered on a daily basis. You cup his cheek, brushing your thumb lightly over his tender skin while he moves back over you.

“This is okay, right?” he double checks as he presses his tip into you, still dripping from earlier.

“Yeah,” you stare down, watching as he slides further in. 

“Look at me.” 

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. Instantly, you bring your gaze up to meet his. Blood red eyes stare back into yours, watching your expression shift as he inches deeper into you. Prior to this, he’d always looked away when your eyes lingered too long. Now, you feel like you could get lost in him. He’s everything you see, feel, and hear. Even the subtle smell of him surrounds you.

The mood shifts as you begin passionately kissing again. Before you know it, he’s pounding into you relentlessly, every thrust buzzing through your body. 

Making the same face as earlier, he knows you’re close. He tries to maintain the pace, but as soon as you’re clenching around him, he's done for. Your orgasms peak simultaneously as he slams you harder into the bed. Legs wrapping around his back, shoving him as deep as he can go. 

“Fuck, y/n,” he groans into your ear before you both become a puddle of bodies on his bed.

A few minutes later, he looks so peaceful. His eyes closed, breathing steady. You’ve never seen him so relaxed.

Quietly, you whisper, “I’ll be right back with some towels and water, stay here.” Taking some of his clothes to replace the towel he dusted earlier, you shuffle out the door. 

Yeah, he thought to himself, he could definitely get used to your attention.

more shigaraki here: m.list

[would-you-punt-them]

It looks bad now. The results aren't definitive yet and won't be for a few days. But ngl, it ain't looking good chief.

They're... making it sound fairly definitive.

Honestly, it feels so surreal watching things like this happen as a non-American.

Like, I unironically think one of the most formative moments of my entire life was when you guys started sharing personal experiences from the American educational system.

Because of the difference in time zones, there naturally came a point where I had to go to sleep, while the Americans on this blog were still awake and still sending me asks describing their unique childhood experience from US school.

And when I woke up the next morning, I was greeted with this:

So, what this means is that of the miniscule group of people who, during those specific ten hours, happened to visit a random Tumblr gimmick blog that had only existed for four months, there were still, at minimum, over a hundred separate people who had some kind of traumatic experience simply as a result of growing up in the USA.

What am I meant to do with that

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend.  You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy? 

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, slight mention of dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Chapter 5 - Together or Apart| ‘Movie Night'

word count - 10.7k

Since Trent had texted, casually inviting you over to watch a film, you’d been an absolute mess. You stood in front of your closet, staring at your options—were jeans too dressed up? That felt ridiculous to say but then again so often you found yourself in leggings or joggers around him. Your brain hurt from how many different thoughts were swirling in your head. Was this just an organized booty call, an easy fuck for him? Was this a date or were you just two people picking up right where you left off? Your mind spun, nerves flipping from excitement to anxiety. You finally settled on something comfortable with a little bit of a fitter top, trying to preserve the image you and Layla had so perfectly crafted. You wanted to find that balance between effortless and intentional so you wore a pair of cargo pants, easy but comfortable, a white tank top, and a pair of trainers Trent had complimented before.  

He told you he’d pick you up tonight at your house. It made you start to question even further what tonight meant. Was that a good thing or a bad thing… Him coming to pick you up was sweet but was it on purpose so there would be no trace of your car at his house? So when the time came and he told you he was out front, you hesitated. He offered to come up to the front door but somehow that felt like too much. Jack wasn’t home, but it still felt almost disrespectful for Trent to come up, to let him walk in knowing very well what could happen if he did. And then you remembered there were the security cameras. The last thing you needed was any suspicious footage. So, you slipped on your trainers and grabbed your bag and headed out. When you got into his car, you barely made it past the seatbelt click before the tension overwhelmed you both. The air felt thick, and before you knew it, you were leaning over the center console, fingers gripping onto his hair as his mouth met yours. His hands almost coaxing you to come sit on his lap, squeezing your thighs. It was intense, desperate, like you’d been holding back for far too long. Just as your hands moved their way down to the soft fabric of his shirt, headlights from a passing car in the neighborhood flooded the interior, snapping you back to reality. You pulled back suddenly, catching your breath, cheeks flushed.

“Okay, T…” You mumbled out of breath before Trent tried to pull you back in for more. “Okay…” You giggled. “Alright. We need to chill out,” you muttered, half laughing, half embarrassed at the lack of control. You shook your head, trying to gather yourself, but Trent just smirked, his eyes bright with mischief.

“Yeah, relax. Practice some self-control,” he teased, his voice dripping with sarcasm. You shot him a look, ready to protest, but he was already moving, turning on the engine of the car with one hand while the other reached for you, pulling you close again as he pressed a kiss to your temple. His voice dropped, barely a whisper. “You’re so easy to wind up. Gotta relax, pretty girl.” The warmth of his words, his teasing tone, it melted whatever composure you had left. Trent’s hand lingered on your leg as he drove, his thumb tracing circles, setting off tiny shocks that pulsed up your spine.

“I’m not much of a cook, so I ordered takeaway.” Trent told you once inside his house, you’d been at plenty of times before but right now it felt entirely new. He pulled up the order on his phone, tracking its progress as he leaned against the kitchen counter with a casual smirk. You nodded as you admired at just how unfairly pretty he seemed to look in any light; it never mattered how harsh or how soft; the kitchen’s overhead lighting proving to be no different. 

“It’s fine with me because I know you’re not much of a cook.” You teased as you folded your arms, raising an eyebrow. Trent rolled his eyes making you smile. “But can you even have this right now? You’re in season… Don’t they watch what you eat?” You asked him knowing his takeaway of choice was a Chinese.  Trent let out a low laugh, shrugging.

 “Yeah, technically. Call it a cheat day.  Just don’t tell the gaffer,” he teased, reaching out his pinky to you in a playful promise.

“A pinky promise?” you asked, arching an eyebrow as you hooked your pinky with his. But he held onto it, glancing down as he pressed a kiss to his own hand. His eyes lifted to meet yours with a mischievous gleam. 

“Yeah, a pinky promise is binding. Now, you’ve gotta kiss it too.” He told you. You hesitated, feeling a nervous flutter in your stomach. There was a soft challenge in his gaze, and the air between you went quiet. With a shy smile, you leaned in, brushing your lips over your own hand, barely touching but letting the tension linger. “That’s better.” His voice was soft, but a trace of amusement edged it. Then he smiled, looking down as if he was seeing you for the first time, something genuine and unguarded in his face. “Y’know, if you really want it to count, you gotta seal it with a proper kiss.” He cooed as he pulled you into his arms, a gentle but firm embrace that made you feel safe and somehow, more nervous all at once. He noticed. He could always read you like a book and right now it was no different. “What’s got you acting so shy?” he asked, chuckling as you hid your face against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, calming, but you still couldn’t shake the self-consciousness creeping over you.

“Stop,” you murmured, laughing against his shirt. “You’re making me nervous.” He tilted your chin up, thumb brushing over your cheek. 

“Why would I make you nervous, pretty girl?” he teased, his eyes dancing as they searched yours. “Only me.” He reminded you gently but it was just that… it was ‘only Trent.’ You and him alone. 

“It’s just… I don’t know,” you stammered, smiling at your own inability to explain.

“Y'know... We’ve already kissed tonight.” He reminded you with a smug smirk. 

“Yeah, but no… it’s–” You couldn’t formulate any valid reason. This was Trent. The Trent you knew so well, you knew so well that you knew he shouldn’t be having a Chinese tonight but also the one you knew so well you’d never want to eat his cooking either. And then the doorbell rang, saving you from digging any deeper into the feelings swirling inside you.

“Well” Trent said as he released you. “When you’re ready… whenever you want…you come kiss me.” He winked, sending you one last smile before heading to the door. When he returned with the food, he set out each container on the kitchen island, opening them one by one. He lifted the lid off a familiar dish, and you noticed instantaneously it was your favorite. Your heart skipped a beat, touched that he’d remembered something so small.

“You… you got my favorite?” you asked softly with a slight giggle, the question more to yourself. He looked up, catching the surprise in your eyes. You felt a bit guilty for acting so weird earlier because just as well as you knew him… he knew you. You’d almost forgotten that amongst your nerves. 

“Yeah,” he said, simply, like it was obvious. “I know what you like.” Something shifted in the air between you both, something that felt as heavy as it did easy. He went back to unboxing the food, his focus turning to unwrapping the utensils, but you couldn’t resist the urge to move closer to him. Coming around the island, you slid your arms around his waist, resting your head against his shoulder. He stilled for a moment, then softened into your touch, a quiet smile crossing his face. You giggled softly, feeling playful and carefree as you wrapped your arms around Trent's waist from behind. His warm, muscular body felt incredible against yours, as you began kissing his neck, leaving a trail of soft pecks and nibbles. Trent's reaction was immediate. He turned to face you swiftly, his hands grasping your waist and pulling you tightly against him. Your bodies collided, igniting a spark of electricity that sent shivers down your spine.

“Hey,” you murmured to grab his attention, gently tilting his face to meet yours, leaning in for a slow, tender kiss. This time, you let yourself linger, let your hands trail up to cup his face as he pulled you closer. You could feel his breath against your lips as he kissed you back, slower this time, savoring the moment. His hand slipped to the small of your back, holding you close. He whispered something soft against your lips, a quiet promise that you could feel even if you couldn’t hear it. You kissed him again slow… steady and sexy. 

“Wow…” He whispered with a pause. “Baby, I didn’t know you were gonna kiss me like that.” He smiled, unable to pull away too far from your lips.

“Should we eat now?” You asked with a teasing smirk, your lips ghosting over his, not really meaning your suggestion. 

“Nah, Shhh… Kiss me again, just like that.” He whispered, pulling you in again. Your lips meeting. The food, forgotten for the moment. His hand drifted up, brushing over your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear as he looked at you with a warmth that made you feel like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. His fingers traced your jaw, lingering at your chin.  The scent of spices and fried rice filled the room, but neither of you seemed interested in food anymore. Your bodies were hungry for something else entirely.

"See… I told you I know what you like." Trent whispered, his breath hot against your ear. His hands roamed freely over your body, exploring your curves and driving you wild with desire.

"Maybe." you teased as he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he placed you to the kitchen counter. The cold marble surface felt refreshing against your skin as he set you down, keeping you close to him, your boobs pressing against his hard chest as he held you close.

"I know you like being dirty for me, huh?" He mocking asked you before his lips claimed yours in a hungry kiss, your hands found their way under his shirt, eager to feel the smooth, defined muscles of his back. You pulled his shirt up, breaking the kiss momentarily to help him get it over his head. The sight of Trent's toned, tanned torso made your mouth water. He was a work of art, and you couldn't wait to explore every inch of him.His hands worked quickly, unhooking your bra with skilled fingers, freeing your full, perky tits, he’d told you he loved. He bent his head, taking a taut nipple into his mouth, and sucking gently, causing you to gasp and arch your back. His tongue teased and flicked, sending waves of pleasure through your body. With his free hand, he cupped your other boob, thumb rubbing the sensitive peak, making you moan softly. "You like when I play with you, don't you?" Trent murmured against your skin, his voice deep and husky. His hands moved downward, sliding off your trousers, revealing more of you. You lifted your hips to help him, eager for his touch. His fingers found the damp fabric of your panties, and he gently traced the outline of your pussy, making you squirm with anticipation. "That’s right, innit? He asked again and you whimpered

"Please, Trent," you whined, your voice hoarse with need. "I want you." Trent chuckled, the sound sending a thrill through you. 

"Oh, I know you do, baby. And I want you too. I’m fucking starving." He smirked moving a container of food that was a little too close to you both. He was hungry for anything but that right now. With that, he slid his fingers under the lace of your panties, finding your wetness and dipping a finger inside. You were already so aroused, and his touch sending you over the edge. You moaned loudly, your head falling back as your body surrendered to the pleasure.

“Baby. that’s…fuck..that’s so good.” Your squeezed your eyes shut tightly feeling a pleasure only Trent had ever given you course through your body. His cock twitched at your breathy moans and whimpers. He tugged at your lower lip with his teeth as he worked his magic, his fingers moving in and out, adding a second finger to stretch and fill you. When he dipped another finger into your wet heat, he pulled another deep moan from you and in an attempt to push you closer to the edge, he curled his fingers even further against that one spot and pressed his thumb against your clit harder. Your hands gripped the edge of the counter, your knuckles turning shades lighter as you rode his hand, seeking release. “Please keep going, T, I’m so close, I’m-fuck.” You whined his name, juices dripping down your legs and his hand, tears forming on your lash lines from the stimulation. 

"That's it. Good girl." Trent encouraged, his breath hot on your neck as he nibbled on your sensitive skin. “Fuck yourself on my fingers.” He commanded. You couldn’t stop yourself. He curled them further inside, finding your g spot fast, refusing to let up. You rode his fingers, your moans only getting louder as the harsh circles around your clit intensified. You let out a soft cry as you rocked your hips onto his hand.  "Cum for me, let me feel you." His words pushed you further, and with a final, desperate thrust of his fingers, you climaxed. Your body shook, and a wave of pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and boneless. Trent held you gently, his fingers still inside you, as the aftershocks rippled through your body. Carefully and gently he lifted you off the counter, his strong arms making you feel weightless. You giggled, slightly delicious from your high,  but feeling playful and free as he carried you to the living room, your legs dangling, brushing against his hard thighs.  He laid you gently on to the couch, handling you delicately but his eyes burning with desire as he gazed down at you. You reached up for him, wanting to feel his naked skin against yours. Trent obliged, quickly shedding his clothes, revealing his chiseled physique. Your eyes traced the lines of his body, lingering on his thick, erect cock, standing proudly between his legs.

"I want you inside me, T," you whispered, your voice laced with longing. He climbed on to the massive sofa, his body covering yours, his hands pinning your wrists above your head. 

"You want it bad, huh, baby?" he teased, his lips brushing against yours.  You nodded, your eyes pleading. Trent's lips claimed yours in a hungry kiss, his tongue dancing with yours as he ground his hips against you, his cock rubbing against your wetness, teasing you. You whimpered, desperate for him to fill you.

"Please, baby, " you begged, your breath coming in short gasps. "Fuck me. Please I promise I’ll be a good girl again for you, T." You whined. Trent smirked not mockingly, just almost euphoric like he couldn’t believe that his dream of having you beg for his cock was happening in real time. And so, Trent happily obliged, positioning himself at your entrance. With one smooth thrust, he slid deep inside you, filling you completely. You cried out, your body adjusting to his size, embracing the stretch and fullness. When you gave him the go ahead, he began to move, his hips snapping forward, driving into you with a pace that had you crying out with each stroke. 

"Yeah, that's it, take my cock." he grunted, his voice rough with desire.The sounds were pornographic. “There she is. Such a good girl. You love my cock, don't you?" He asked you. You lifted your leg up for him to throw it over his shoulder fucking you at a new angle harder, deeper.  

“It’s so fucking good. Fuck! — Fuck you feel so big.” You babbled lost in the throes of pleasure. Trent fucked you with a primal intensity, his hands gripping your hips rasing them slightly, leaving marks on your skin. He was fucking you stupid, your mind had gone completely blank, your vision blurred. After you changed the angle, lifting one of your legs, it caused you to bite down harshly on his shoulder. He moaned in pleasurable pain. His whole length repeatedly hitting your g spot, sending you both into a blissful haze. He was leant forward, his mouth finding your nipple, sucking and biting gently as he thrust, creating a symphony of sensations that drove you wild.

"You're squeezing me so tight, baby," he groaned, his breath hot against your neck. "Want me to make you cum again, pretty girl?" He asked but all you could do was nod desperately, your chest heaving.  He reached between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing and circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. The combination of his cock pounding into you and his skilled fingers was too much to bear. You arched your back, offering yourself to him, your body ready to explode.

"Yeah– shit! T, right there!" you cried out, your voice high and desperate. He increased the pace, his fingers working in sync with his thrusts. You climaxed with a force that surprised even yourself, your body trembling and legs shaking as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. 

“Fuck, you’re my good girl, baby.” He hummed, his breathing getting heavier by the second. His cock was soaked in your slick as he rolled his hips roughly into you.  “Fuck!” He cried out. “Baby I gotta cum.” He was at his limit desperate to release. You could only nod again Your own high still continuing to roll on. His harsh movements came to a halt as he buried himself deeper inside you. “Ah Shit.” Trent grunted, his body stiffening as he came, filling you with his warmth, his throbbing cock pulsing inside you. Pumping you full with his cum while pressing his lips to yours. You both laid into each other's sweaty bodies, foreheads resting on the other.  Gasping for breath, you clung to each other, your hearts racing. Trent gently kissed your neck, his hands stroking your skin, providing comfort and reassurance. You reveled in the intimacy of the moment, feeling utterly satisfied and exhausted. “You okay, baby?” He whispered. You could only hum, your face hidden in the crook of his neck. You kissed at his skin lazily. “You sure? Was I too rough?” Trent nervously and quietly asked. Trent didn’t want to hurt you. He had protected you for years. The thing was now… things were different. Really different. If Trent was ever rough with girls before in bed he usually didn’t care too much but he had always taken care of you and it only amplified now.  Obviously it would never be the goal to hurt someone but with sex like that, rough sex like that… with you... he needed to make sure you were okay.

“I’m okay, T. Just tied from all that.” You giggled sleepily, your voice barely audible. You gave him a soft smile, tucking your head back against his shoulder as you nuzzled into him. You could feel him smile as he held you closer. The two of you laid there, wrapped in each other, forgetting everything else just for the moment. But once you realized almost over an hour had passed since the food arrived, though neither of you had paid much attention to it, you definitely were hungry now post workout… or well… post sex. Trent got up, making sure you were okay, cleaned up and all set on the sofa as he popped off back to the kitchen to reheat the food and bring it back for you two to finally eat. Now sprawled comfortably on the couch, a mess of takeout containers scattered around, both of you too wrapped up in each other to worry about making it neat. Wrapped only in blankets, clothes long forgotten, and each other, there was something thrillingly raw and uninhibited about the whole scene.

You watched on as Trent struggled with his chopsticks, holding them awkwardly and missing the noodles each time. 

“You’ve been shit at that for years. Literally zero improvement.” You held out a fork for him with a grin. You couldn’t help but laugh, playfully teasing him. But he shook his head stubbornly. 

“Nah, nah, I’m not that bad. These noodles are just slippery, and—” he rambled, an adorable frustration flashing across his face. He pouted a little, and you chuckled, leaning in to kiss him, wiping away his frown. 

“It’s cute, you know,” you said, running your hand over his thigh. The bashful way he looked down, as if trying to hide his little smile, only made him more endearing. He looked back up at you, his eyes twinkling with a smirk. Trent loved to be praised even if it was just for simply existing. And he was as cute as you said; his pouty lips and puppy dog eyes staring back at you pretending he didn’t know he was. Until his cheeky charm came roaring back. 

“Yeah, well, I’m cute what can I say; it’s a redeeming quality of mine. You’re almost as cute as me… depends on the day,” he shot back with a wink, his grin widening. You laughed, your heart flipping at his boyish charm. The way he blended playfulness with this gentle confidence was one of the things you loved most. Sitting there, eating together, feeling this giddy warmth bloom between you, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so effortlessly at ease. The two of you lounged together, tangled up in the cozy mess of blankets and takeout containers, laughing at the smallest things. It was pure, unguarded comfort, and you hadn’t realized how much you’d longed for this feeling until now—just being with someone, laughing until it hurt, without any pretense. Trent’s chopsticks continued to wobble in his hand as he tried again, narrowing his eyes in concentration. He was treating it like a personal challenge, refusing to let some noodles get the best of him, his brow furrowed like he was plotting out strategy. You stifled another laugh, and he caught it, glancing up with a mock-offended look. “Aye! I’m not that bad!” he protested, dropping the chopsticks with a defeated sigh and reaching for a fork instead. You snickered, resting your head on his shoulder as you passed him the fork with a knowing look.

“Maybe I’m just better with the chopsticks,” you teased. He let out an exaggerated scoff, rolling his eyes. 

“Better at what? Eating?  Doubtful,” he said, leaning over to nudge you. But there was a softness to his gaze, an unspoken admiration as he looked down at you. “Even if you are better at some things,” he added, trailing off, his voice dropping to a murmur. You tried not to look surprised but you weren’t sure you’d ever heard Trent actually concede, not even halfway like that. “I’m better at a few things, too.” He added in true Trent fashion. 

“Oh, yeah? Name one,” you challenged, grinning as you tilted your head up at him. You knew just how to get Trent to bite. With a playful smirk, he leaned closer until his face was just inches from yours. 

“This,” he whispered, before his lips captured yours in a deep, slow kiss that made you melt. It wasn’t rushed or hungry; it was patient and full of warmth, as if he had all the time in the world to savor you. When he pulled back, his eyes scanned over your face as if to commit every detail to memory. There was an unmistakable pride there, like he knew the effect he had on you. “See?” he said softly, still holding your gaze. “Told you I’m better at some things.” You blushed, laughing as you wrapped your arms around him. 

“Alright, alright. You’re a good kisser but don’t act like I’m bad or something.” You giggled, laying your head on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

“Nah, course not. You’re world class as well, baby.” He cooed gently, kissing your forehead.  For a while, you both just sat in silence, content. He absentmindedly played with your hair, occasionally twirling a strand around his finger. At one point, you looked up, catching him staring at you again, his expression soft, as though he were seeing you for the first time. 

“What?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. He shook his head, his fingers grazing your cheek as he spoke.

 “Nothing. Just… I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.” He smiled softly, his eyes filled with warmth.

“Like what?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Like… relaxed,” You raised your brow trying not to be offended. He laughed lightly. “Nah, hold on…” He could sense your offense. “ I meant you just seem calm right now. Just before…even with me, it always had to be rushed, it always had to be sneaky and right now… you just look happy.” He said, his voice full of a warmth that melted right into you. He brushed his thumb over your cheek, smiling gently. “I like it. A lot.”

“Are you trying to say you make me happy?” You questioned a little mockingly. He hummed with assurance. You felt your heart flutter, something in his eyes settling deep within you. “Well, you’re right…You do. And I hope I do that for you too… at least a little bit,” you whispered back, a soft smile spreading across your face as you nestled closer to him.

“Yeah, pretty girl. A lot of bit.” he cooed, leaning to peck the tip of your nose. “You always have but this… this right here is better than ever before.” He softly whispered. In that moment, everything else faded—the worries, the risks, even the questions of what you both were doing or where this would go. For now, this was enough. Just you, him, and the quiet intimacy that filled the room. You sat there for a long while rattling between eating, kissing, and watching TV. “We should do this more “Trent said as he moved on the couch putting his food down. 

“T, we eat dinner and watch films like every other week” you smiled. You did. You ate dinner probably once a week together except… well, Jack was also there. 

“You know that’s not what I meant.” He feigned annoyance pulling you into him.  “But nah, I don't mean those nights because I rarely get to have my hands on you like this. Hmm?” He clarified. 

“Yeah,” you sighed at the reality but also agreeing, loving the current warmth of him. 

“Yeah? And you like when my hands are on you, right?” He cooed and you hummed. “I know just what you like, baby.” He leaned in, his lips barely brushing yours, and you felt the familiar flutter in your chest, the way just his presence seemed to pull you in. He could feel the way your body melted. "See?" he whispered, his voice laced with that playful edge. "I know exactly what you like." You giggled, trying to play it off, but there was no denying how much you did like this, how every small touch felt electric. 

"Confident, aren't we?" you teased, resting your hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. He grinned, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your lower back. 

"Yeah. You love it when I'm like this," he smirked, leaning back, but pulling you down with him until you were nestled against him on the couch, his hands holding you close. You hummed because it wasn’t when he was like ‘this.’ ‘This’ was just Trent. Confident and cheeky. And getting to have this Trent all to yourself with no prying eyes was a dream. You couldn't help but smile, feeling his warmth and the gentle way he was looking at you, the humor gone from his expression, replaced with something softer, something that felt more than just casual. You bit your lip, unable to hold his gaze for too long, and he just chuckled, tilting your chin up so you'd meet his eyes again. "I meant it," he said, his voice low and earnest. "We really should do this more." There was a pause, and in that brief silence, you felt the weight of what he was saying. It wasn't just about tonight, or even the past few times you'd been together. It was about something more, something you hadn't really let yourself think about until now.

"Maybe we could," you said softly, feeling your face warm as you looked down, only to feel his fingers tilting your chin back up, his eyes softening as he watched you.

"Yeah?" he murmured, his hand slipping up to cradle the back of your neck. "Then maybe it's not just up to me, is it?" He smirked. And with that, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, deep kiss that seemed to say all the things you both were afraid to.

After clearing up the remnants of your Chinese takeaway, you stood in the kitchen, stacking the last of the plates in the dishwasher. Trent followed closely behind, observing you with a smirk on his lips. His gaze was warm, his eyes dancing with a familiar playfulness that always made your heart flutter.

“Wow,” he teased, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed and a mischievous look in his eyes. “Look at you. Really are wifey, innit?” You glanced over your shoulder at him, rolling your eyes at his comment.

“Oh, shut up,” you retorted, but the smile tugging at your lips gave away your amusement. You couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the playful compliment, even if you tried to act unbothered. Trent didn’t let up, stepping forward with that grin still plastered on his face. 

“Nah, I mean it,” he said, his voice softening slightly as he drew closer. “I’ve always known you’re good with all this stuff. The little things. The considerate things. Things other people overlook.”  You felt a warmth spread through you at his sincerity, and you turned to face him fully, drying your hands on a towel, leaning your back against the island across from him as you looked up at him.

“Yeah?” you asked, tilting your head, a playful lilt in your voice. Trent’s expression softened further, the humor still present but tinged with something more tender. “You’ve clearly never lived with Jack and my dad.” You cooed, reminding him that this consideration was more survival and necessity than anything else. Trent sympathetically smiled realizing there was something much deeper behind why you took care of things the way you did. 

“Nah.Y/N, look. I'm not talking about that. I mean I am but I'm not. I don’t want to talk about... them guys,” he continued, referring to past relationships,  his voice growing serious for a moment, “because they don’t deserve the breath, but all those other lads? They were fucking idiots for losing a girl like you.” Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you couldn’t help but tease him, trying to keep the moment light even though his sincerity made your chest ache. All of it, the hurt of your past and how easily he seemed to salve it. 

“Oh, really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “And why exactly is that?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.  “Because I’m so great at, what, doing the dishes?” You teased. Trent sighed but then let out a deep chuckle realizing maybe this wasn't the time for his serious compliment. And so his laughter echoing the kitchen making you smile. 

“Nah,” he said, stepping even closer and reaching out to pull you by the waist. You squirmed as he picked you up, dragging you back to the living room, only your combined laughter filling the space momentarily. He tugged you down onto the couch with him. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight and pressing a flurry of silly, cheeky kisses all over your face, making you giggle more. “No, baby,” he murmured between kisses, “because you’re kind, and thoughtful, and beautiful, and even with your flaws, you’re still perfect.” he listed, his hands sliding up your sides, pulling your top up with them as he spoke. You pulled back just slightly, eyeing him with suspicion. 

“Flaws?” you questioned, your tone light with mock offense. He giggled, a true cheeky Trent giggle as he picked up the TV remote from the armrest beside him. “Excuse me?” You leaned into his touch, a teasing smile spreading across your face. He smiled deviously, taking the opportunity to snake one of his arms around you completely and pull you tightly into him, his other hand navigating what was on the telly.

“Yeah,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “Like, for one, you’re not very good at watching films. You talk a lot during them. You yap more than me and that says a lot.” He smirked cheekily. You gasped, playfully shoving him away but not really going anywhere because his arm stayed wrapped around you

“Oh, okay. Really? I see,” you said, leaning into the banter. “Seems like you watch a lot of films with someone you think is bad to watch with.” You fired back, your voice full of mock indignation. Trent’s eyes softened, and he smiled, leaning in to kiss your temple, his lips lingering there for a moment.

“Nah, nah, nah,” he laughed, leaning his forehead against yours, his eyes crinkling at the corners from how wide his smile had become. “I said you’re bad at watching them. But you’re the best to watch with. My favorite to watch with, actually.” He corrected softly, his voice a murmur as he brushed his nose against yours before pulling you into a comfortable cuddle. You felt your heart skip at his words, and you nuzzled closer, the warmth of his embrace wrapping around you, your hands moving to rest on his chest. 

“Well, I guess that makes it okay, then,” you whispered, a smile spreading across your face as you settled into him, feeling perfectly content. “You’re really good at this whole sweet-talking thing, aren’t you?” you whispered, your voice teasing but your eyes full of affection. He pulled you closer, his lips brushing your temple again before pressing a kiss there, lingering for a moment.

“I’m not sweet-talking, pretty girl” he murmured against your skin. “I mean it… You don’t shut up….” Your jaw slacked. “ And I love it.” He told you, shutting your mouth closed with his hand and kissing your lips. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms in the warmth of the room. You nestled your head against his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and strong. He kissed the top of your head, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the feeling. “Alright,” he announced, his voice full of playful determination. “Movie time.”

“A movie? Really? After you just insulted my film-watching abilities?” You raised an eyebrow, laughing. He grinned. 

“Exactly,” he said, pulling you down beside him. “I invited you over for a film and I was thinking.... maybe I can keep your lips busy.” He cheekily cooed with a wink. The innuendo had your mind racing, your heart pumping and your pussy pulsing.  

“Maybe we should find the list of the top 100 most boring movies.” You suggested. Suddenly you could feel the tides turning again. The sexual tension in the room rising fast.

“Why?” Trent naively asked almost instinctively forgetting the direction he was just forging but then quickly remembered what you were insinuating. He laughed at himself. His desire for you very quickly out ranking that for any movie.

“I mean, maybe that’s why I’m no good at this whole watching films thing. I think I just love a movie that can't hold my attention… besides, usually someone else has it.” You smirked. Your hand moving to run over his thigh, moving higher and higher up. 

“Fair, baby. Because we’ve watched some classics together and I barely remember a thing. Got me more locked in on you.” He cooed, the warmth of your subtle compliment lingering. You giggled nuzzling into his neck, your lips nibbling on his skin, your hand inching higher.

“Guess I should be flattered then, huh? Competing with the classics is no small feat,” you teased, but inside, you felt the excitement, horniness and a hint of vulnerability. He pulled your face off his neck and  brushed a strand of hair from your face, his gaze soft. 

“You’re much better than any movie.” He paused, as if choosing his words carefully, his thumb grazing your cheek. “...Honest.” You swallowed, taken off guard by how sincere he sounded. The easy sexy  banter had faded momentarily, leaving something quiet, something that felt new and serious. 

“Trent,” you whispered, your voice catching slightly.

“Yeah, pretty girl?” he asked, smiling as he tried to read your expression, a hint of nervousness flashing in his eyes. You shifted, heart racing as you tried to find the right words. 

“I just… I like….” You paused , almost afraid to look at him, trying to decide how open you should be, how vulnerable you should be or if you should just throw reality to the wind and let your hormones continue taking over. You went with neither. “I like watching movies with you.” You admitted, but it wasn’t really what you wanted to say. When you met his gaze you felt like you saw the same openness you were feeling retreat, just as yours did. He didn’t hesitate though, pulling you closer, his arms wrapping around you.

“Me too.” He grinned, his tone lightening just enough to make you smile again. “How about we pick a movie that’ll actually let us watch for, like, let’s give ten minutes a go. Tops.” He smirked at you, placing his hand over yours moving it back to palm over his hardening cock.  You laughed, your face falling back into his neck, your lips returning to kiss his skin. 

“Deal,” you whispered, feeling perfectly at home in his arms and perfectly turned on to do a little more than watch a movie.

You sat on the edge of your bed, phone clutched in your hand, staring at the last message you’d sent Trent hours ago. He hadn’t replied, which was fine, you reminded yourself. He had an away game tomorrow, he was busy, and maybe this thing—whatever it was—wasn’t supposed to mean much to him. He’d said things recent enough, especially that night at his house where maybe you thought it did but then again… you tried to remind yourself, he was only a boy at the end of the day, he very well could be just like all the others. You’d been replaying the moments you’d spent together, but maybe, you worried, it had all been just a casual distraction to him. People can pretend for sex, why couldn’t he do the same. The texts and playful emojis were fun, but what if he was just passing the time? Your texting had ramped up a lot especially when he was away. There were a lot of winks, innuendos, emojis but were you simply a way for him to occupy time whilst he was on the road? That maybe it didn’t matter that it was you specifically, but that it very well could just be any girl. You actually had started to feel like an idiot expecting a message tonight. You were about to just feel defeated going to bed without a text from him. You sighed, telling yourself to let it go as you flicked off the lights and crawled into bed, the silence feeling heavier than usual. You closed your eyes, settling into the pillow, just about to drift off when your phone buzzed. The screen lit up, and you glanced at it, expecting a notification—but no, it was a FaceTime call. And it was Trent. Your heart skipped, fumbling to answer as you propped yourself up, pulling your shirt down a bit just for him. 

“Hi,” you said, hoping he didn’t hear the hint of nerves in your voice. Trent’s face filled the screen, his eyes tired but a warm smile spreading across his face. 

“Sorry for the late call. Just thought…  Well, I wanted to see you. You alright, pretty girl?” He cooed. You couldn’t pick up on it but he was as nervous as you were.  His words more jumbled than normal. You bit your lip, surprised but touched by the call.

“I’m… I’m good. Just getting ready for bed. You?” You asked. He nodded, running a hand over his hair, his smile softening. 

“Yeah, about to have a quick shower and get a some sleep too. Long day. Fucking knackered” He paused, his gaze steady on you, and something in his expression made you feel seen. “But I was thinking about you.” His words made your heart race, and you couldn’t hide the smile that crept onto your face. 

“Oh yeah? Or just bored in some random hotel?” You questioned him, a slight crack at the question that had been gnawing at you.  He chuckled, shaking his head. 

“Nah, just about you alone. Trust me. Was wondering what you might've been up to without me. ” He leaned a bit closer, as though he wanted to close the distance between you through the screen. “I miss you. More than I thought I could.” Hearing that sent a warmth through you that made all the doubts melt away. 

“I miss you too, T” you admitted softly, feeling a rush of relief that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t all in your head. Trent’s grin widened, his eyes lighting up. 

“Then maybe when I get back… we don’t do the whole ‘pretend we didn’t’ yeah?” He smirked. You laughed, feeling a sense of peace wash over you as you nodded. 

“Yeah, I think I’d like that because I really do miss you.” You shook your head feeling both embarrassed by how much you did miss him and silly for the way you felt earlier about him not replying to a simple text when he was saying all this.

“Baby, quick question for you.” He said and you couldn’t stop the smile from forming on your face at the pet name returning. “You have snap right?” He said it so casually that you let out a shocked chuckle. He was talking about snapchat and while you did... you weren't sure you were even friends on it because well... it felt like dangerous territory.

“What…are you sixteen? Like what are you on about?” You laughed at him. You were on Facetime in bed right now. What in god's name did he want to know that for. 

“Nah…” He laughed mildly embarrassed by your call out. Understanding it merited your teasing. “I just meant I’d like it if I could see a little more of you when I don’t have the privacy to call. Y’know?” He explained. A part of you hated this conversation and a part of you loved it. You wanted him to see more of you but you were also a little confused. You’d had a similar conversation before and it resulted in a photo of you sent directly to him. 

“Oh… I mean I can send anything you want just over texts…”  You told him feigning a casualness you didn’t feel. You’d sent a photo to him before so you weren’t sure why he wanted to move the convo elsewhere. It was hard not to overthink it. It felt so suspicious but you weren’t entirely against sending him any more photos to him if it meant you got some in return. But the question ‘why’ was screaming in your head. 

“You understand what I’m actually asking for right, baby?” He chuckled, not at you but because he just felt silly asking this. “I just don’t want you to feel…” He began to explain further but you cut him off. In Trent's mind, he just wanted another access point. His schedule was so busy he liked the idea of being able to have a space for just the spicier things especially considering Jack but you weren't thinking that way and you didn't know that either because you just interrupted him.

“T… I know what you’re asking. I’ll send photos to you.” You smirked mischievously. You were hellbent on getting him to see you as a sexy woman not as a best friend’s little sister so in your opinion this was going to have to be happen, if you wanted to further that.  

“Alright, alright, baby. Send as you please.” He laughed pretty happy with your willingness to send him photos. You just were debating just how revealing they should be though. On Trent’s end, he wanted full nudes, he wanted to see the body he was claiming as his back at home while he was away. To be blunt he wanted to get off to them but just didn’t want you to feel overly exposed sending them through text, logged into your apple ids but there was a disconnect. You were not on the same page apparently even though you thought you were.  After you ended the call you decided to give it a go. You sat up, perching yourself onto your knees, your ass rested back on your heels so you could see your figure in the mirror across from your bed. You were just in your panties and a little tight white t-shirt, no bra. You could see the shape of your tits, your taut stomach exposed as you pulled on your lip with your free hand. And snap. You took a deep breath, looking at the photo you’d just taken. It was intimate, sultry, exactly the kind of picture that would send Trent’s heart racing—or so you hoped. But just as you were about to hit send, a flicker of doubt crept in. Was he only asking for these pictures initially on Snapchat because he didn’t want them saved, was he with or seeing other people he was worried might see them if they were texted. Hence you decided to opt to be partially clothed for this first go around. As close as you felt to him, it was hard not to wonder sometimes if you were just another distraction. He was a guy who could have anyone, and the idea that he could be keeping things casual with you was a thought you couldn’t shake. Yet you didn’t want to question him, not now, when things were finally feeling like they could be real. With a bit of resolve, you hit send anyway, your heart pounding in anticipation. Just as you set your phone down, another thought crept in. Maybe this was all about building trust. Maybe he wanted you to feel in control of whatever you chose to share. Never did the idea of Trent protecting you from Jack ever by chance picking up his phone cross your mind. The whole night replayed in your head—the warmth in his eyes on FaceTime, the way he’d reassured you, and how he’d seemed genuinely interested in closing the distance between you both. Moments later, your phone vibrated, and a message from Trent popped up. It wasn’t just a text back; it was a picture of him in the mirror, his smile a little sleepy, he’d just gotten out of the shower in his hotel room, towel low around his waist, water droplets still on his chest, the soft glint in his eyes unmistakably meant for you.

He teased You let out a small laugh, feeling the doubts ease away. Whatever this was between you both, it was beginning to feel like more than a fleeting fling.And with a quiet goodnight, he left you with a smile and a heart racing for the next time you’d see him in person.

Trent’s travels continued on. One country to the next.  But as he lay sprawled on the hotel bed, his muscles aching from a training session ahead of his match earlier in the evening, the hotel room modern and immaculate, it felt sterile, stripped of any warmth or comfort that reminded him of home. His teammates’ laughter echoed faintly down the hall, probably from someone’s room where the guys had gathered to relax and unwind. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to join them. His thoughts were somewhere else—somewhere warmer and more inviting, somewhere that smelled like your favorite perfume and where laughter felt more genuine. He had learned over time how to manage the loneliness of travel. Football had always demanded sacrifices, and he’d made peace with them. But now, with you, the loneliness felt different, more acute. Before, he never thought twice about how many nights he spent in hotel rooms, but now, every night away felt like a night stolen from you. He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake the unease that had settled in his chest, and then grabbed his phone again, the screen lighting up with notifications. None were from you, which he realized he’d been hoping for.

He rolled onto his side, staring at a picture of you he’d taken ages ago, one you probably didn't even know existed. You were laughing in it, your head thrown back, organically beautiful, eyes lit up with mischief. It was one of those candid shots that perfectly captured your spirit, and he found himself smiling, feeling an ache at the thought of not being able to hear that laugh right now. His thumb hovered over your name in his messages, and he opened your last conversation, reading over your words, feeling closer to you through the little emojis and teasing exchanges. He didn’t want to seem needy or like he was fishing for your attention, but the urge to reach out was overwhelming. He started typing a text, deleting it twice before settling on something simple; ‘Thinking about you. Hope you’re doing okay. Miss you.’ He almost sent it but stopped himself, taking a moment to let out a heavy sigh. It felt unfair to burden you with how much he missed you when he couldn’t be there. It wasn’t that he didn’t think you felt the same, but he knew how unfair this situation could be. You deserved better than waiting for stolen moments or living with the anxiety that came from constantly hiding what you were from everyone else, hiding what you might be from Jack. He put the phone down, leaning back on the pillow, and tried to shake the self-doubt creeping in. Were you getting tired of this? Of him being gone? Of him not really being yours? He couldn’t imagine a world where he didn’t want to see you, where he didn’t crave your company. It wasn’t lost on him that football had pulled him away from so much over the years, but this was the first time he genuinely worried about it taking something he desperately wanted to keep. You were putting so much at risk for him with Jack and it all started to feel more wrong than ever. 

Even during his limited downtime, his mind would drift to you: your laugh, the way you’d tease him, the gentle comfort of your presence. And now, knowing that the busiest stretch of his season was right around the corner, the thought of being even more unavailable left a bitter taste in his mouth. He wanted to make you feel special, to let you know he was thinking about you in a way that wasn’t about flashy gifts or hurried, late-night hookups. No, he wanted you to understand that he cared deeply, beyond the physical or superficial. He propped himself up on one elbow, the crisp hotel sheets rustling beneath him, and grabbed his phone once more, his mind racing with possibilities. As he opened his notes app, he began to brainstorm. He knew he couldn’t make grand, public gestures without risking exposure, and he didn’t want to just throw money at a problem that required a more thoughtful touch. He started typing ideas, his mind focusing on the small things, the meaningful things. The list in his notes app glared back at him. He glanced over the suggestions, his heart softening. Even with all his fame and money, he was nervous about something so simple as making you feel loved. How did you make him feel like a nervous schoolboy again, chasing after someone he wanted so badly to impress? He felt almost ridiculous trying to impress his best mate's little sister but you were much more than that. He chuckled softly to himself, a mix of embarrassment and adoration flooding him.

He tried to envision the letter he’d write if he went with that idea, picturing himself scribbling down every reason he liked you, every little thing that made him smile. Maybe he’d tuck it into your favorite book, so you’d stumble upon it by surprise. Or he imagined what the picnic could be like, bundling you both up in warm clothes and spreading out a feast of all your favorite comfort foods, just to hear you laugh about how out of season it was. And that thought—that image of you laughing, cheeks flushed from the cold but warm in his embrace—was enough to make him pick up his phone again.He didn’t know how he’d make it happen, but he’d figure it out. Because that’s what you did when you cared about someone: you made the effort, even when it felt impossible. Trent took a deep breath, feeling a bit more settled. He pressed send on his message before he could second-guess himself again and set his phone aside. His chest still ached, but he let himself imagine the look on your face when you finally received whatever small, meaningful gesture he’d dream up. Even if he couldn’t be there physically, he wanted you to feel his presence, to know that, no matter the distance, you were always on his mind. And as he lay there, the room still feeling cold and empty, his heart felt a little warmer, filled with a quiet resolve.

Trent was right, you did feel like his schedule was always busy. It was hard for you to understand lately. Before, as your brother's best friend it never really affected you but now… you found yourself missing him. And while you did, every time you wanted to tell him just that... you'd chicken out. You’d be lying if you said your heart hadn’t leapt when you received another text from him once you knew he was back home. It had been days since you’d last seen him, and even though you told yourself you were getting used to the rhythm of his busy life, the truth was you missed him—maybe more than you wanted to admit. The message was short, casual, but it made your palms sweat with anticipation but also your brow furrow with confusion.

Of course you agreed but the vagueness made you nervous. And in addition to those words, you didn't like to drive all that much. It just gave you a bit of anxiety but you'd do it to see him. When you pulled up in front of his house, the evening sky was tinged with hues of orange and deep purple, the last rays of sun casting shadows across the quiet street. Trent stepped out and your chest tightened at the sight of him. He looked tired but happy, his smile lighting up his face as he walked over to the passenger side of your car. He climbed in and immediately shot you a teasing look. 

“Wow,” he said, running his hand over the dashboard, “Pretty girl, pretty whip. Look at you. Who knew you had such good taste in cars.” There was a playful glint in his eye, and you couldn’t help but smile. You let out a laugh, rolling your eyes at his antics. 

“Okay, okay, I’ve said thank you a million times,” you replied, feigning exasperation. “Do you want me to say it again?” He laughed, leaning back into the seat of the Mercedes he had once gifted you for your birthday.

“Nah, I’m just giving you a hard time. It’s good seeing you behind the wheel, though. Rarely see you even drive. Was beginning to think you didn’t like it.” He smirked.

“I do! You know I just get nervous driving.” You pouted a little feeling anxious about actually driving.  

“That’s why I got you a safe car though, baby. You’re all good. Promise.” He cooed gently, leaning over and kissing your temple, feeling the familiar warmth spreading through you from his presence alone. His words reassuring. The air between you grew heavier for a split second, the implication of his words making your stomach flutter. But you quickly brushed it off, gripping the wheel a little tighter to steady yourself. You couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips as you pulled out of his driveway.

“So, what’s the plan?” you asked, trying to sound casual but genuinely curious. “Why did you need me to drive?” Trent adjusted his hoodie, looking out the window as if gathering his thoughts. 

“I wanted to go somewhere,” he said, turning to face you. “Somewhere a bit more low-key. Didn’t want to attract too much attention, you know?” You raised an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued.

 “Somewhere, huh? You’re pretty mysterious.” You cheekily teased.  He laughed softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“Nah, shush. You’ll see,” he promised, the hint of a secret in his voice. “Just trust me.” And so you drove on, the city passing by, the quiet hum of the car adding to the suspense. Trent didn’t give anything away, and that made you all the more eager to find out what he had in store. But deep down, just being near him, feeling the warmth of his presence after days apart, felt like more than enough. Trent had typed the address into your car’s navigation system, and as the map adjusted, you tried to steal a peek, your curiosity piqued. He shot you a mischievous grin, blocking your view with his hand. “Aye! No peeking,” he said, his tone playful. You rolled your eyes, fixing them back on the road, but a smile pulled at your lips despite the frustration you felt, knowing he always enjoyed these little games. When you finally pulled up to the park, you recognized it instantly: the worn-out playground, the rustling trees that framed the walking path, and the faint creak of the swings swaying in the wind. It was a place that had remained unchanged since your childhood, close to where you’d both grown up but far enough away from where you now lived that it felt like a retreat. You turned off the car and glanced over at Trent, your eyebrows raised.

“What are we doing here?” you asked, laughter bubbling in your voice. He opened the door, climbed out, and then made his way around to your side, pulling his hoodie up over his head in that way he always did when he wanted to go unnoticed. The sight was endearing but also a reminder of the reality you shared: the life he led, so scrutinized and public, and the need to keep parts of it hidden, you hidden. He pulled your door open and extended his hand to you.

“C’mon,” he urged gently. “Just wanted to spend some time with you.” You took his hand, stepping out of the car and feeling the cool, crisp autumn air kiss your skin. "Just you and me." The sky was a watercolor mix of oranges and purples, the sun dipping below the horizon and painting everything in a soft, fading glow. You slipped your hand out of his to wrap your arms around yourself for warmth, but Trent’s hand found your lower back, guiding you gently down the familiar path. As you walked, you both fell into an easy conversation about anything and everything: memories from your childhood, funny stories about people you both knew, and even complaints about the weather turning colder. But underneath it all, there was a tension you couldn’t shake. “Been missing you... I actually was trying to remember the first time I like properly caught some feelings for ya. pretty sure it was here,” he said, his voice quiet. His admission lingered in the air, heavy and sincere.

"I don't believe that." You smiled, not sure Trent even looked your way until your tits were out on a holiday. You were trying to stay guarded but he was making it hard. You felt your heart skip at his words, but you couldn’t bring yourself to fully relax into the moment.

"You should. Made me just miss being... us." He sheepishly said the word uniting you two as a pair. You knew how much you missed him too, but there was something else—a weight that was harder to put into words.

“Hmm,” you murmured noncommittally, your eyes trained on the path ahead. Trent stopped walking, his fingers brushing against your elbow to turn you toward him. You glanced up, your gaze meeting his, and his expression was a mix of worry and confusion.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, reading the unease in your eyes. He was searching for an answer, something to make sense of the way you were holding back. You let out a sigh, your breath visible in the cold air. 

“It’s not that something’s wrong,” you started, your voice trailing off. “I just… sometimes I feel like…” You struggled to find the words. How could you express the hurt of feeling like a secret, like this hidden part of his life he only got to enjoy behind closed doors? Trent’s jaw tensed slightly, his hands dropping to his sides as he watched you, his own heart sinking. He seemed to understand, even if it was painful to hear. 

“I know it’s not fair,” he admitted, running a hand over his hair beneath the hoodie. “But you make me feel grounded, Y/N. You make me feel like… me. And I just wanted some time. to feel like Trent, not all the shit that goes on during the week.” You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, nodding because you did understand. It just didn’t make the ache any less.

“I get it,” you whispered. And you did, you really did, but the understanding didn’t erase the feeling of being kept in the shadows. It wasn’t just friends and family who couldn't know… the world couldn’t know. In a way, you almost felt used or that you weren’t good enough to be shown. Nevertheless, you resumed walking, though your steps felt heavier now. Trent must have sensed your struggle because, after a few more moments, he bent down and picked a small daisy growing stubbornly among the fallen leaves. He held it out to you with a sheepish grin.

“Here,” he said, pressing it into your hand. "I always thought about nicking one of these and giving it to you but the lad's would've ripped into me back then." You couldn’t help but laugh, the gesture so innocent and sweet that it melted some of the tension in your chest. He leaned in and kissed your temple, the warmth of his lips comforting in the cold evening. You looked down at the daisy, a bittersweet smile playing on your lips. 

“They still would." You sympathetically smiled. "You know,” you began, shaking your head at the memories flooding back, “if you did that when we were kids, I would’ve screamed.” Trent’s eyes softened, a playful glint returning. 

“And now…?” he asked, wanting to hear how things had changed.

“Well…” You hesitated, your smile dimming. “It’s just a bit different now.” Your voice was quieter, the reality sinking back in. “I still like getting flowers from you.” You tried to backtrack but you couldn’t. The daisy felt like a piece of something beautiful, but the hoodie he still wore reminded you of the double life you both lived. The happiness was always tinged with the sadness of what you couldn’t have. Trent’s expression grew somber, and he stepped closer, his hands coming up to cup your face.

 “I know it’s not enough,” he whispered, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. “But I’m trying, Y/N. I really am.” You closed your eyes, his warmth seeping into your skin. 

“I know,” you whispered back. “And that’s what makes it so hard.” You opened your eyes, looking into his, and for a moment, there was nothing but understanding between you. No words, no defenses—just the complicated, beautiful mess of feelings you shared. He pulled you into a hug, and you rested your head on his chest, the daisy still clutched in your hand. The sun had nearly set, and the park was empty now, just the two of you standing in a place full of memories, trying to find a way to make sense of the present. He kissed your forehead and instead of bringing comfort, it stung. You went home that night and pressed the daisy in a favorite book of yours to preserve it. It was a book of poems. You found a worn page that you turned to often, one that your mum loved. You hoped in some way maybe she could help you decide what that daisy meant if you kept it there between you and her.  And as you shut the book to cement it. You watched a teardrop fall onto the hard cover. You and Trent, your past and your present bound closed.

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Next part - Chapter 6 xx