⊹∘cheri˙⊹

*´ㅅ`)ﾞ♡

[cheriwritesig]

no aesthetics, just vibes™

main blog: @chericherilvr

[cheriwritesig]

did rempe just wwwwwweeeeeee on the ice?? I love him. if anyone has a clip sharesharesharehsare

[creativewritersposts]

a damn poet - Connor Bedard

requested; @chericherilvr 💓

summary; Connor Bedard x reader

Connor is so busy trying to have his best season that he forgets about things that really matter. He needs to learn how to be a poet to save your relationship.

warning(s); angst! fluff, argument, maybe grammar errors

author's note; it took me hours to finish this one. It was an honor for me to write this request. ♡

--------------------------------------------------------------

Deep in your heart you know how Connor feels for you. He wouldn't invite you over another continent, joining his world championship, if he wouldn't love you. But something inside you breaks. Seeing all these hockey couples with cute pictures, sending their girlfriend flowers and the players screaming from the rooftop how much they love their girlfriends.

Connor is not like this. He loves you, he cooks your favorite food and watches all movies you want to watch. He's so focused to play the best rookie year he could do and lost the focus on his private life. He doesn't want to post your relationship official, because of his fan base.

You're self-evident for him.

"Hey love", you smile with big eyebags, touching his shoulder as he walks in the hotel room. It's your first time after three days having a real conversation with him.

"Hi", his mouth is straight, kissing your temple and waking in the bathroom. You're exhausted from love-bombing him. You're so tired of being so upset.

"How was your day?", you ask him, hearing the shower. "I can do better", his voice echos back. "You're already enough, my love", you shout back and throw your body into the bed. You spread your arms apart, your legs are on the ground.

Connor comes out after a few minutes ago in a towel, his hair is still wet and he's looking fine.

"What is that?", he grabs a paper from the desk.

"So I hold onto your shirt, as I stain it with blood

Will I finally find my own peace?

Clear my mind out of my thoughts, then state that I'm in love

Tempted with the idea of dying in these sheets"

"I'm writing songs ", your voice shakes. Connor never noticed this because he's always busy and you're asleep when he comes home. You're working full-time in a job you don't like and at night you're writing songs. Hopefully to live from that one day.

Connor looks up from these lines, "since when?", he breathes in. Hid eyes get red. Red like crying. "over a year", you sit up on the bed, your arms are supporting your back.

"Why didn't you tell me, babe?", he sniffles.

Babe. How long didn't you hear this nickname?

"You were busy", you tell him the truth. Maybe he'll break up with you. Connor sobbs, "are you really feeling this way? Finally finding your own peace?", his blue eyes searching yours, you can see how much it burdens him.

"your lyrics are professional, they're so good", he cries and tries to hide it. Whipping his tears with his ankle, face to his bag with all clothes.

He's putting a shirt on, turning around. "I just need time to realize this, babe", he kisses your lips, you taste the salt from his tears.

"You have an important game tomorrow, I'm ok with that ", you response. He nods and lays down. Without a kiss, hug or this comfortable feeling.

He lays down and let you alone with all these thoughts in your head. He doesn't seem to care much about you. Maybe it's time to leave.

Next day Connor feels like shit, even in his hockey clothes, nice fans around his team. He slept surprisingly well, but feels like the night after silvester.

It burns in his chest, you don't feel happy. But why? Since when you're writing songs? as a good boyfriend he should know. What is he missing in this relationship.

He's not shitty boyfriend, he didn't know it's hurting you. He thought its okay that he's having a strict time schedule.

"Concentration, Bedsy!", his teammate hits his shoulder to wake him up from daydreaming. Like a robot Connor played his best game but the celebration feels like a crime.

"Yo Connor are you going out with us?", some boys asking him in the cabin to celebrate their win. "No", he wants to see you. He forgot how stunning you are. How hard working you are. You're a poet and he had no clue!

He walks in your hotel room, lights are out. Just some papers all over the bed. He grabs one paper, reading the lines.

'He grabs me by my neck

Puts a dagger to my heart

Tells me I'm a mess

That I'll never be enough'

Gosh, it hits him. You are more than enough. You're his safe place. He reads every paper, focused about what you feel. It's time to hear out what you need.

He grabs his phone, calling you.

"Hello?", your voice sounds happy. "Where are you, babe?", he asks interested. "I'm at the whirlpool inside the hotel, I'll come over in 5 minutes, okay?", you're scared he's mad when you're late. You thought he's celebrating with his team and won't come to bed until midnight.

You pack the stuff and walk back to your shared room.

The opened door shows you the sort out papers with your lyrics on your bed shelf.

Connor lays in bed, smiling softly. It's typical Connor, he's a clean guy.

He smiles. He smiles at you without talking about hockey. "Congratulations for winning, I'm proud of you", you stutter.

This view feels so surreal, having a relationship after months. Having a boyfriend waiting for you.

"You look beautiful", he grins angelic.

You stopped the last step, "what did you say?". Maybe you have issues with your ears.

"You look beautiful and I love you", he talks loud.

"Love you too?", your honest reaction. The last time he said it, he broke is jaw and was out of his mind because painkillers. Months ago.

"Uhm can we talk, please?", he pets your hand, when you lay down with him. It feels like home. Smelling his perfume, hearing his breath and touching you.

"Sure", you get insecure what's coming next.

"Ok it's not easy for me", one tear runs down his cheek. You're frightened, just able to nod.

"Why do you write songs with me as enemy?", his voice is distanced and cold.

"Oh I'm sorry I don't write lies!", you defense yourself.

"I'm a good boyfriend!", he argues, "you treat me like I'm self-evident!", you yell your frustration out of your lungs. So much pain inside your chest wants to come out of your mouth. So much unsayed words.

"No-", he argues back, more tears are coming out his blue eyes.

"Yes Connor! Yes, it's true! I love writing songs and I hate my job so much! I am crying every night because my boyfriend doesn't care about me and I'm all alone and you're hiding me from fans because you could have a ruined career, I get it!", you sob under choking your salty tears. You're outraged.

You take your pillow and lay down on the floor, Connor looks down, "come over".

"No", "god damn come over!", he huffs.

"You have practice tomorrow, good night!".

That's the last time you saw him for the next two days. He's busy. Semifinals are tonight and Connor posted something on Instagram, you're too upset to check.

One WAG comes to you at the game, giggles and tells you, "never thought Bedsy is a poet!". The game is already on fire but your fingers are like a magnet, they want to switch what he posted - even if he's an idiot.

He posted a picture of you reading a book in the garden, laughing at you without pressure, without hockey and in his caption;

"You can feel, when someone traces your skin

You can kneel, run, jump and also can spin

And when I close my eyes I wish I was just like you"

[cheriwritesig]

bringing this back up cause I was writing lyrics and I remembered this and I still cant get over how my lyrics were used for this and now im crying cause it's such a motivation to keep going

[cheriwritesig]

I may not be the biggest mustache only fan... but nico hischier... he knows how to pull it off.

[rayaofstarlight]

Pluto was downgraded because of other's mistakes.

[cheriwritesig]

may I present you: logan sargeant's song.

[sword-and-nightingale]

Reblog to give a trans woman a warm cup of soup

[and-fishing-equipment]

me and the butches on our quest to bring a trans woman a warm cup of soup

[cheriwritesig]

Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to ask. They teach you this in communication 101: do not expect other to do something without communicating with them about it. It’s not fair to them nor you, talk about your needs.

They tell you it isn’t fair. My child screams at me “it isn’t fair that I have to ask to be treated like a human being” I tell her “the bare minimum sure, but are you asking for more?” Everyday I’m being questioned about it. The bare minimum. The bare minimum?

Sometimes I wish people would tell me they love me. But that isn’t the bare minimum: you have to say it first, even when it’s hard, even alone.

Sometimes I wish people would decide for me. But that isn’t the bare minimum: you have to choose for yourself, even when in doubt, even in stress.

Sometimes I wish people would give me random presents, trinkets. But that isn’t the bare minimum: you have to make it yourself, even things you want, even things you need.

Sometimes I wish people would hug me, cuddle me. But that isn’t the bare minimum: you have to ask them for it, delete the yearning and hug yourself.

Sometimes I wish people would do things for me. But that isn’t the bare minimum: you take your bags, you clean your space, you help yourself out, even when you don’t know, even when you can’t.

Sometimes I blame myself. Scratch that. I blame myself. A push over? A people pleaser? A nobody? I tell me that I made it this way. You learn the lesson, and then you learn the solution. So you end up in a limbo of knowing just how hard it is, and knowing just how easy it could be. Even if it never is, not now.

Sometimes I want people to love the way I love. Scratch that. I selfishly want people to love me the way I want to be loved. And as hard as it is to admit, I deeply wish I wouldn’t have to ask for it. Sometimes I wish I wouldn’t have to ask for love. That someone would just get me so deeply they would just; know.

It truly goes against everything I’ve learned. As a child, for protection, you learn you can’t ask, that you are not worthy of it, that asking will take you no where. That maybe, just maybe, you’re unlovable, forever. When healing, you learn you gotta ask, voice your needs, and speak it out loud. You also learn to validate that craving, as guilty as it feels. That, maybe and just maybe, I still haven’t learned about.

Sometimes I wish love didn’t take all of me to get. That I wouldn’t have to ask, to beg. That I wouldn’t have to recognize it within me. That I wouldn’t have to figure it out. That I wouldn’t have to love me before getting loved.

And on days like this, I just wish someone would come at my door and hug me. Take me to bed, give me a warm cup of tea, hold me, a movie and sweet nothings whispered in my ear. Just because they love me. Just because they want. Just because. But that isn’t the bare minimum. You pick yourself to bed, you make your cup of tea, you hold yourself, a movie and you whisper sweet nothings to your ear. The bare minimum starts with you when you can’t ask. But I don’t want it to start with me, not for this one, not always.

[oscatmeowstri]

it’s them!

[cryinginmyroomsposts]

I have decided I want to be a main character written by Ali Hazelwood- smart, PhD-having boss bitch women who have very grandma-core hobbies and end up with the hottest nerds on the planet!! That’s the dream package!!

[ezisregrettinglifedecisions]

I saw a post by @bellenotthebeast about the hate drivers are getting at the moment and this is a written version of what I put in the tags of my reblog because I didn't realise I was going to go on a rant when I tapped on the reblog button.

734 words just in case you were wondering.

All of the hate that drivers get for making mistakes is getting absolutely out of hand. It's frankly ridiculous how many people will jump at the chance to nitpick and be rude about another driver and whatever mistake they made minor or not. (This is specifically in relation to comments taken severly out of a very important bit of context and actual driving moments, if there is something serious then yes I think they should be held accountable for their actions, just because they're rich and in a very elite sport should not make them immune from accountability even though it does appear to sometimes.)

The stuff with Lando is actually sickening with how far its gotten. None of them should have to see that. In fact, no one, f1 driver or not, should ever see or hear such horrible things that people are saying to or about them. The death threats???? Hello??? What the actual fuck were people thinking. The drivers are people too the fans of those drivers are people. Get a grip and don't fucking send death threats???? Is that really that hard to have basic human respect for other people???

I see hate so much. Be it in the comments of an edit on tiktok or on a fan page on Instagram. Even the drivers own comment section and the official F1 account. People. What the fuck. Be supportive of people, for goodness sake. Don't be dicks??? Is it so difficult to be nice to people? I can tell that, unfortunately, I'm going to be using that phrase a lot.

I want to see the positives in this sport too. I think with all of the hate, all the good things have been buried under the swathes of hate and pain ignorance in some cases. I want to read or watch a video on how driver A did something so well, even if it's small and insignificant in the overall. I really want to hear about the amazing defending, even if they did get overtaken eventually. I want to hear about them being so fucking happy with their Quali position. I want to hear them screaming down the radio when they get in the points. I want to hear the feedback on the drive, where things may have gone wrong, and even where people think things could have improved. I want to hear about the track and the conditions and how well everyone did and how the people and the fans and their teams are so proud of their achievements during the weekend.

The thing I do not want to see is - ew i hate driver B. EEK no driver C ruined everything. Driver D should crash into the barriers. DO YOU NOT REMEMBER WHEN THERE WERE COMMENTS HOPING DRIVERS WOULD DIE IN A CRASH. What the fuck is wrong with the people saying that???? That is NOT okay. EVER. Have you not seen how outraged Max Fewtrell was when someone said that they hoped Max V crashed and got hurt in his twitch chat room. He was furious. Saying how that wasn't okay and how fucked up it was to say something like that. Listen to Max for fucks sake please.

WE👏 DONT 👏KNOW 👏THEM👏.

They're public figures, and we only know the public side of them, not the side they reserve for behind closed doors. And for the fifth hundred time, we aren't entitled to know anything about them behind closed doors either. We dont have any ground to stand on to demand anything like that. Because who the fuck do you think you are to demand something like that. Seriously, some people need to understand that this ISN'T okay and the way these people are acting will NEVER be okay.

So just enjoy the sport.

Enjoy the drivers.

Enjoy watching their skills on the track.

Enjoy their interviews and their relationships together on and off the track.

Enjoy the side of them that we are allowed to see.

And stop hating unnecessarily.

Please, for the sake of the sport.

For the sake of the newer fans.

And for the sake of the drivers and their physical and mental health. You really need to think before you post. Think about the impacts it could have if something happens. Know that if your words are seen, that could be detrimental and how YOU played a part in something so horrible.

Thank you,

Ez

[cheriwritesig]

most drivers wont see your comment. but your friend, a relative, someone you love; that same person you love that is going through the same struggles, that loves that same person you're wishing death uppon, that you're laughing at, critisizing, will.

[cheriwritesig]

okay hear me out you little silly gooses, we're gonna put that puck on that goal or I'm gonna end up putting that fist on that face I CAN'T handle another loss.

[86espresso]

*clears throat* dialogue 12 with bedsy after his first nhl fight 👉👈👉👈👉👈👉👉👉👉👈👉👈👈👈👉👈👉👈👉👈👉

🫡🫡🫡 thank you for requesting 🩷

☯︎ “I know it hurts, we’re almost done”

ALL you could do was stare.

This was just supposed to be a temporary internship.

As one of the younger athletic trainers, you were in charge of the younger people on the Chicago Blackhawks. And that meant instantly hitting it off with Connor.

It was only a matter of time before the friendly relationship changed and one thing led to another; he had you pressed up against a wall with his mouth on yours.

Sure, nothing developed.

Yes, it was your job to care.

But you’d be lying when you say your world didn’t slow down as Connor went down into the mess of limbs and bodies.

He got out of the penalty box and headed towards the bench, where you were. Your expression was stoic and unresponsive as he settled next to you. Wordlessly, he took of his helmet and you held his face so he would look at you as you inspect him.

He mouths ‘I’m sorry’.

You’ve strongly advised him to stay out of fights as much as he can and he just went against it. The last thing he wanted was for you to be upset with him.

You find a bleeding cut on his temple and shake your head.

“You had one job, Connor.” You say as you press a wet towel on the area. He winces, his face scrunching up slightly as the warmth of the towel stings him.

“I know it hurts, we’re almost done, babe.” He feels his cheeks heat up.

“Listen, can we-?”

“Later. Go play right now. We’ll talk later. I’m not that mad.” You add emphasis and a small smile.

Connor picks up on it, smiles back, and plays the rest of the game energized in anticipation.

[windypuddle]

gay guy who doesn't know how last names work and is new to formula racing: that man is NOT a bear

[cheriwritesig]

explain THIS then ☝☝☝☝🙄🙄🙄☝☝🙄🙄☝🙄🙄

[windypuddle]

ok i will give him points for the lovely brown eyes. but can he climb trees

[cheriwritesig]

he is multitalented, cool like that

[windypuddle]

gay guy who doesn't know how last names work and is new to formula racing: that man is NOT a bear

[cheriwritesig]

explain THIS then ☝☝☝☝🙄🙄🙄☝☝🙄🙄☝🙄🙄

[cheriwritesig]

they'll never find the body.

[sleepeys]

other sports commentators: brilliant work right here, this is a monumental moment for this athelete right here. he's been on everyones radar for a while but now he's proven just why, absolutely marvelous.

breaking commentators: NOBODY BEATS THE WIZZZZZZZ. NOBODY BEATS THE WIIIIZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

[unpassive-viewer]

Watching breaking in the olympics has been awesome as a former hip hop dancer, but holy shit. For every person who doesn't know how breaking even works and doesn't think it's a sport, there's ten more who are excited about the men's competition, but absolutely ragging on the women's competitors. My head is actually spinning.

If you don't know about breaking, I need to explain some things:

The breakers all know one another already, and all respect each other. This includes between the m&f categories. Nicka (silver medalist - women's) and Phil Wizard (gold medalist - men's) have literally competed as a duo.

The breakers that you think "are better than everyone in the finals" already went through the qualifying trials. They also compete with all the medalists, they also tried out for the olympic teams. They did not make it.

To that end, every battle is its own battle. They may have done poorly in the qualifying trials, but have beaten the now-gold medalists in other competitions. It's not like swimming where Katy Ledecky will pummel everyone else in the race unless she has an exceptionally off day.

Related to point 2 - breaking was born in the Bronx. It was also born in the 1970s. Being mad that the demographics don't reflect who you think should be dancing, or being mad that the dance isn't "in touch with its roots" is like being mad that someone modified the recipe for ginger beef. Some of the guys who were competing today are old enough that they were dancing with the same people who invented the sport. I promise that they have crazy respect for how it began and all of its influences.

Related to point 3 - breaking requires originality. It is a foundational element of the sport to evolve and be creative. It's a sport, but it's also an art form.

Dancing for three rounds in three separate battles is a lot for any dancer. If you think some of them looked like shit toward the end (I disagree, but whatever) it's because they are tired. Not to mention there were heat warnings in Paris! They still have more athletic ability in their left pinky finger than I've ever had in my whole body - and I was someone who also did street dance!

The music wasn't decided ahead of time, but the DJs were playing very very popular breaking songs. All of the competitors already know how they go, so if they were scoring low in musicality, it's not because they panicked not knowing the song.

The athletes have sets made up already, they're not freestyling. They adapt them to the music, but unless they blank in the middle of the competition, they already know which skills they want to show off.

I really doubt that anyone on tumblr is going to care, but Instagram users can't read and YouTube is full of bots. I'm so excited that I got to watch my sport in the Olympics, but my lord people cannot behave.