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luvrhischier · 10 months

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losing game // trevor zegras

part 2

pairing: trevor zegras × reader

word count: 3.1k (might have gone a little overboard)

a/n: based on the song arcade by duncan laurence. lyrics are in bold italics (jumped around a lot and changed some lyrics to fit the story). no use of y/n.

a/n two: this is my offering to hockey tumblr pls let me in (f1 offering coming soon maybe idk).

warnings: mentions of sex but no actual smut (bc i suck at writing it), alcohol, angst with no happy ending

You watched as he collected his clothes and put them back on. Turning to you when he reached your bedroom door.

“Bye, babe. See you later.” He winked and left.

Silence ringing inside my head.

You sat up, one hand clutching a blanket to cover your bare body, the other running through your now messy hair trying to tame it. It didn't help. After ten minutes of complete silence and staring off into space you finally dropped the blanket and stood up. You walked over and stared at yourself through your full length mirror, examining your body and all of its features in the lightly lit room. You began to wonder why he didn't feel the same. Of course he wasn't obligated to, but still it made you feel like there was something wrong with you.

A broken heart is all that's left. I lost a couple of pieces.

You both had agreed to this. Friends with benefits in private, best friends in public. Nothing more, nothing less. However, now you felt a small piece of your heart get chipped away every time you hooked up.

Jamie had warned you both that this wasn't a good idea and that it would probably end in disaster, after he accidentally walked in on the two of you, but neither you listened. Both swearing that the two of you would never be anything more than friends, who occasionally hooked up. Now you wished you had listened.

The way Trevor now made you feel was unlike anything you had ever felt. Before he grew to understand your body, even better than you did, and what made it fall apart in those moments of tangled limbs, lips moving in sync, heavy breathing, and extreme pleasure, the two of you were just each other’s best friend. Through the good, the bad, and the ugly. You never wanted anything more until a few months in and you hated yourself for it. You couldn’t help it though Trevor's fun and loving nature carried over into those moments of close intimacy. It made your stomach to erupt with butterflies.

You finally silenced your thoughts and rummaged through your dresser for new clothes. You then picked up the clothes you formerly wore, the pieces scattered across your bedroom floor, tossing them into your laundry basket. You sighed deeply and returned to lay in your bed. You quickly stood up again as small tears began to build in your eyes. You didn't want to lay in the bed you just sex on. In fact, you didn't even want to be in your room. His scent was everywhere. His cologne was all over your bed and the smell began to spread around you like wildfire. You knew it wasn't going away anytime soon, it never did.

You collected yourself and headed to your bedroom door when you saw a crumpled up shirt hiding in a corner of your room. You picked it up and instantly realized it was Trevor's. It was the shirt he was wearing underneath his hoodie and he must have forgotten about it. You tried to stop yourself from taking off your old tattered tee and putting his shirt on instead but you failed. You stood there in shameful silence before finally heading to your living room.

You noticed a glass slightly filled with water sat next to the sink, Trevor must have stopped to get himself a drink before he left. You just wanted to take a nap so you left it there as you went to lay on your couch.

You opened Netflix, just playing a random show you knew you weren't really going to watch, you just wanted to end the silence that flowed through your apartment and sleep.

────

You opened your eyes slowly, trying not to be blinded the bright light coming from the t.v. You didn't want to sit up, you just wanted to lay there until you sank into the cushions. You finally checked the time, 8:56 pm, you had slept there for over six hours. You felt your heart stop when your phone began to ring and the screen showed Trevor's name and a picture of the two of you from years ago. You didn't want to pick up but your fingers didn't listen to your heart or your brain.

“Hey babe.” God you hated that nickname so much, it made your heart both shatter and melt.

“Hey Trev,” you groggily mumbled as you stood up heading back to your room. You looked over at your bed and flashbacks from earlier played in your head. Trevor laying on top of you, his lips on your neck, and his hands roaming your body. You shook your head trying to wipe away the memory.

“So, Jamie and I spontaneously decided to throw an end of season party since everyone's here and I wanted to call to see if you'd come,” he sounded happy, excited, and a little hopeful.

“Yeah, that sounds like fun,” you tried to sound as happy as him but you failed and you knew Trevor noticed, he always did. You used to love that he knew you so well, but now it just hurt because he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, notice your true feelings for him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“Nothing I'm totally fine. I just woke up from a nap and I um...” You paused, trying to think of an excuse. “I just need to take a shower and get ready. Bye, see you soon,” you heard him start to say something else but it was too late, you had ended the call. As soon as you hung up Trevor called again. You let out a frustrated groan before hitting decline. You quickly put your phone on do not disturb before he could try to call again and tossed it on your bed, you then went to your closet. You just stood there and looked at your clothes, too lazy to actually look for an outfit. You sighed and decided to take a shower before picking out an outfit.

You stepped in the shower and just stood there for awhile, letting the water run down your body hoping that it would wash away any remaining trace of him.

The hot water felt nice against your cold body but it only reminded you of the warmth you felt when you were with Trevor and you hated it.

Once you were finished you returned to your closet to finally pick an outfit. You didn't feel like getting too dressed up so you opted for something simple, a pair of leggings and a random top. Your breath hitched when you saw what top you had randomly grabbed. It was one of Trevor's team USA jerseys. You didn't even know you had this, he had been looking for it for ages.

Once again you tried to stop yourself from putting it on but you once again failed. You stood there in another shameful silence. You looked at your phone to check the time, 10:05 pm. You sighed before grabbing a random pair of shoes and your keys.

The drive to Trevor and Jamie's house was a quiet one, no music, just the sound of your car tires on the road, passing cars, and your quiet breathing. When you got closer to his house you could see a long line of cars parked along the street and what seemed like never ending groups of people walking through the door. A tiny voice inside your head begged you to turn around immediately and drive back home but it was too late. You had driven all the way here.

You were hit with the smell of booze as soon as you got out of the car. A small part of you wanted to throw up but the rest of you wanted to drink until you blacked out and forgot about him.

The music was loud and people were everywhere making it hard to walk through the crowd full of drunk kids with sweaty bodies. However, the kitchen was less crowded. Vodka was the first thing you saw so that's what you filled your cup with.

You heard a loud and dramatic gasp followed by a familiar laugh and turned to see Jack rushing towards you with open arms.

“I missed you so much!” He beamed and hugged you tightly. You could tell he was a bit drunk by how his words were starting to slur together.

“I missed you more, Jack,” you laughed. “Jack, sweetie you’re suffocating me,” you jokingly muttered out.

“Oops, my bad,” he laughed as he pulled away. He noticed the cup in your hand and grabbed it before taking a quick sip. Before you could jokingly get on to him Luke walked in. You knew he must have been his turn to be on ‘watch drunk Jack duty' by the look on his face.

“There you are! I swear I'm going to a harness and leash so you can’t wander off and I don't have to run around while having a heart attack trying to find you,” he said, slightly out of breath from running around the house and through the sea of people, trying to find Jack. Jack just smiled and shrugged his shoulders causing Luke to roll his eyes. He looked over at you and smiled. “What's up, I missed you!” He exclaimed towards you before pulling you into a quick hug.

“I missed you too,” you smiled back. Before he could reply you both turned to where Jack was once standing only to find that he had wondered off again. Luke rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

“I have to go find him again before he does something stupid,” he said begrudgingly. “I'll come back once I find him. I wanna hear about how annoying Zegras has been this season,” he joked while he ran off to find Jack once more.

The mention of his name made your heart feel like it was being ripped out of your chest and squeezed right in front of you. Wanting to distract yourself you looked around and skimmed over the crowd. You didn't want to admit that you were looking for him, but you were. You were about to take a drink of the vodka in your hands when you finally found him. You cursed every single higher being for the sight in front of you. There he was in the corner talking, dancing, and obviously flirting with some blonde girl. Their hands were all over the other’s body and they were close, too close, it made your body go numb. You felt completely defeated.

We were always a losing game.

Now your heart felt like it completely stopped working. You watched as she leaned in to whisper something in his ear with a giggle. The smirk that broke out on his face could've been seen from a mile away. Your cup slipped out of your hand and you felt it splash everywhere. You looked down and let out a shaky sigh. Quickly you grabbed the roll of paper towels and fell to your knees to clean up the mess, but it became harder and harder as your eyes started to blur with tears. You heard mumbling through the ringing in your ears but you didn't look up. You just sat there on the floor furiously cleaning up the spilled alcohol.

You finally looked up when the person shouted your name and placed a hand on your shoulder, snapping you out of your trance. There stood Nico and Quinn. When they saw the tears running down your face both of their eyes filled with worry.

“What's wrong?” Nico questioned as he crouched down next to you.

“I spilled my fucking drink and I have to clean it up.”You continued scrubbing the floor.

“You've cleaned it all up,” he said softly. “You can stop now.” He gently grabbed your hand to stop you.

You looked at the floor and saw that he was right. The alcohol was gone but now it was being replaced with your tears spattering on the floor. You fully sat down on the floor and Nico followed.

“Okay, everyone out of the kitchen now!” Quinn shouted to the few people still standing around you, whispering to each other as they obviously gossiped about your breakdown. You watched as everyone listened and quickly walked away.

Quinn joined the two of you on the ground.

“Why are you crying?” Quinn asked as he scooted over to sit right next to you. You didn't want to say it was because of Trevor. You knew that no matter how much the two of them playfully argued and fought Trevor was like a third younger brother and, though he'd jokingly never admit it, he loved him. He didn't deserve to be burdened with your problems. But deep down he knew and you knew that he knew because of the look on his face.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you let out, in your opinion, a pathetically loud sob as you buried your head into his chest. Quinn didn't even care about the tears and makeup that were most definitely staining his shirt, he just cared about being there for you.

“He's over there with some girl.” you stuttered as you began to hyperventilate. “And I know I shouldn't be acting like this because we're supposed to be just friends but it hurts so fucking bad. God, this is so embarrassing. I'm so fucking stupid. I hate myself!” You lifted your head

“I need you to take some deep breaths. You need to breathe.” Nico softly said. “Breathe.” He took a deep breath of his own so you could follow along.

“Alright, who told me everyone to leave the kitchen?” Jamie interrupted as he entered the kitchen. You looked over and saw that Jack and Luke had walked in too. ‘Fuck!’ You cursed in your head. It was hard enough crying in front of Quinn and Nico, now all of your closest friends were standing there watching you sob on the floor. You watched as they all quickly sobered up.

One by one they all sat on the floor with you. All of them extremely worried. You wanted to somewhat keep your composure so you didn’t freak them out, but you couldn’t hold it in anymore you just let it all out. You knew your makeup was probably a mess and your jersey, his jersey, was covered in tears and running mascara.

“He's over there, with some girl, and they're all over each other and I'm over here crying. God I'm such an idiot!” You hiccuped. You wiped your eyes with the sleeves of his jersey. All of them instantly knew who you were talking about. “You were right Jamie. I should have listened to you. It’s okay you can say ‘I told you so’…"

“I would never do that,” he said gently.

You watched as Quinn stood up, Jack and Luke quickly followed.

“Be right back.” Quinn mumbled, trying to hide the anger in his voice. You saw the three of them clench their jaws and ball their fists. Before you could protest they were gone. Now it was just you, Jamie, and Nico. They both scooted in closer and engulfed you in a hug.

“I guess giving us up didn't take a lot to him, huh?” You forced a chuckle trying to lighten the mood and joke but neither of them laughed or even looked slightly amused. You sighed. “Deep down I saw the end before it even began, but I still carried on.” You lowered your head.

You heard someone softly say your name and you instantly knew who it was. Trevor. He had that the slight roughness in his voice, the roughness he got after a one too many drinks and you hated that it was still sending shivers down your spine.

“Please look at me.”

You don't know how or where you got the courage, maybe it was because your friends were there to support you and protect you, but not only did you look up, you stood up and marched straight up to him.

“Babe-”

“Don't call me that! I think you have made it clear that I am not really your ‘babe' so stop torturing me by saying that!” You angrily interrupted. You knew that now everyone was staring at the two of you and the scene you were making.

“What's wrong? Talk to me. Why are you crying?” His eyes were soft and you wanted to let this whole thing go and forgive him but you knew you couldn't, your heart couldn't take this anymore. He took a step towards you as his hand came up and tried to caress you face but you pushed his hand away.

“You! You're what's wrong with me! You’re why I’m crying!” You spat. “I stupidly fell in love with you and loving you is a losing game and I got addicted to it. But now l'm done with your games, I have to be because now I need to go and put myself back together. So game over. I'm getting off of this emotional rollercoaster. I am completely drained because I've spent all of the love I had on you!” Tears streamed down your face like a waterfall and you didn't care you needed to say this before you lost the courage and let him back in. “I know I was nothing more than a quick fuck to you but to me you were everything and more. So this,” you gestured between the two of you. “Whatever this is between us is over and so is our friendship. Because if I stay I'II let you back in and I will shatter into a million pieces and I will never be able to put myself back together again.” You walked past him and quickly headed towards the door.

You didn't want to stop but you remembered what you were wearing. You looked down and saw his now tear stained jersey. You turned around and Trevor was right behind you causing you to run face first into his chest, you quickly pushed him away and saw his eyes filled with hurt, panic, and tears.

“Can we please go up to my room and talk about this?” He pleaded. “I can't lose you...”

You softened for a second before regaining your composure. You didn't answer him, you just pulled his jersey over your head and threw it at him, not caring that you were now shirtless in front of all of these random people.

"Goodbye, Trevor.”

#trevor zegras #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras angst #trevor zegras blurb #nhl #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #quinn hughes #jack hughes #jamie drysdale #nico hischier #luke hughes #quinn hughes x reader #jack hughes x reader #jamie drysdale x reader #nico hischier x reader #luke hughes x reader #trevor zegras smut

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bfpnola · 1 year

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Abolition For Beginners (2023 Edition)

In honor of Tyre Nichols and all others we have lost to policing and imprisonment. In honor of Black History Month. In honor of Better Future Program's mission to educate and serve marginalized youth globally... Let's break down abolition, again. (As usual on Tumblr, tap for better quality.)

Image description below. Written by @reaux07. Proofread by the volunteers and supporters of @bfpnola.

Image Description:

[ID: All of the following slides use a wrinkled, black fabric as their background with black text (bolded red added for emphasis) on top of white boxes with rounded corners. “@bfpnola” is written in the top right corner and the sources for the slide are in the bottom left corner.

Title Slide (No. 1):

Written in red text, “UPDATED FROM 2021 EDITION.” The outlines of the word “ABOLITION” is written line by line 8 times in light grey with the year “2023” written on top in bold, white lettering. Below, written in red within a white bubble and red arrow, it reads “FOR BEGINNERS*.” Across from the bubble, “@BFPNOLA” is in red. Below, in red again, the asterisk mentioned before leads to the following note: “This post is heavily text-based so if you do not learn best by reading, feel free to utilize our Abolition Study Guide in our bio under "Social Justice Resources" instead!” Lastly, white stars and outlines of grey circles can be seen in each corner of the slide.

Slide No. 2 reads:

Abolition is an anti-capitalist, intersectional framework that aims to not only destroy the cages created by various “industrial complexes,” but to create inclusive, effective alternatives for addressing harm. As defined by Dr. Jennie Wang-Hall, an “industrial complex (IC) is a system that creates profit through embedding into social inequities and providing an ineffective product that keeps consumers under-resourced and returning for more.”

The most common examples of such systems? Prison and policing, psychiatry, foster care/family policing, the military, and even the Family (as an institution, not kinship altogether).

Despite common misconceptions, abolition is not just a negation of what currently exists, but an active evolution of what community-based support can and has looked like. Abolition is about the radical working-class imagination, about Black and Indigenous imagination.

If individualistic, reactive, punishment-based strategies are maintained, true accountability and rehabilitation will never exist. Instead, we can choose to be proactive, analyze the circumstances that perpetuate violence, and address harm at the root! Of course, no one is saying that harm will completely cease to exist, but to paraphrase butch anarchist Lee Shevek, wouldn’t it be a profound improvement to expand our capacity to respond to harm and challenge our abusers, rather than being restricted to system-granted authority? Especially when such systems deliberately ignore the suffering of marginalized communities (e.g. people of color, queer and trans folks, women and femmes, Mad and disabled folks, and so on) to begin with?

Sources: @Dr.JennieWH, @ButchAnarchy, Stella Akua Mensah, Erin Miles Cloud, @WokeScientist

Slide No. 3 reads:

Before we continue any further, let’s destroy the myth that cops actually stop violence. First off, we can’t depend on crime stats at face value because this begs the question of who exactly gets to define what counts as a “crime” and why (e.g. drug possession and sleeping in public vs. tax evasion of the wealthy and wage theft). Continuing, crime rates often only reflect violations that have actually been reported, chosen to be shown, and deemed out of line. By this logic, crime rates are simply reflections of cops’ perceptions, not of the material and emotional realities of the proletariat (i.e. the working-class).

As for perpetuating violence, “US law enforcement killed at least 1,183 people in 2022, making it the deadliest year on record for police violence.” (And those are just the deaths that were reported. In our home state of Louisiana, turns out the Jefferson Parish Sheriff’s Office, as of January 12, 2023, has been unlawfully destroying records of officer misconduct for at least 10 years.) Many (69%) of these murders were cases in which no offense was alleged, were mental health or welfare checks, or involved traffic violations and other nonviolent offenses.

This is, of course, without even touching on the involuntary servitude (i.e. enslavement) and maltreatment ongoing in American prisons. How many more deaths must occur before the general public says enough is enough? Or is this acceptable since these are working-class, disabled, Mad, non-white, queer, and trans lives being lost?

Sources: @InterruptCrim, The Guardian, Mapping Police Violence, @VeriteNewsNola

Slide No. 4 reads:

So we agree police are harmful. Why abolition instead of reform? Historically, reforms have either provided further funding to the prison, foster care, and psychiatric industrial complexes and/or just reinforced harmful ideologies surrounding policing as a whole. And trust us, these systems already have more than enough money. In the fiscal year of 2021, at least $277,153,670,501 were spent on federal law enforcement and prisons as well as on police and prisons by state and local governments. Can you even conceptualize a number that large? We could end all American medical debt with that much money. We could even provide clean water and waste disposal to everyone on Earth!

Continuing, reforms like body cameras are pitched as making officers more accountable, that if “done right” policing will actually keep people safe, and that those who do not use excessive force are suddenly no longer guilty of perpetuating centuries worth of systemic oppression. In reality, body cameras require further funding and increase surveillance!

Similarly, civilian oversight boards and the push to “jail killer cops” reinforce the belief that cases of murder, assault, falsifying information, and so on are exceptional occurrences rather than intrinsic to the very nature of policing itself. This is where the phrase “All Cops Are Bastards” comes into play, stating that while the individual character of some officers may be morally permissible, all cops are part of a “bastardized,” or corrupt, system.

Sources: Security Policy Reform Institute, Matt Korostoff, @CriticalResistance

Slide No. 5 reads:

Even laws don’t prevent police violence, e.g. the murder of Eric Garner despite the NYPD passing a policy against chokeholds, or the murder of Daunte Wright despite the passing of the George Floyd Law Enforcement Trust and Integrity Act and a separate Justice in Policing Act of 2020.

Alternatively, we can advocate against the expansion of policing “responsibilities,” i.e. not allowing officers to address Mad individuals in vulnerable states, the housing crisis, or people who use drugs (PWUD). We can reroute funding into non-coercive, peer-led initiatives for harm reduction, de-escalation, first aid, and self-defense. And maybe most importantly, we can reaffirm that EXTENSIVE power can, in fact, be found amongst everyday folks like you and me!

Abolition is not a one-and-done sort of deal but rather a progression of steps toward an infinite future of improvements. The act of building parallel infrastructures and modes of governance while the previous ones still exist is known as dual power. Abolition must begin as dual power. We can start today!

And in building such, these steps cannot: legitimize or expand oppressive systems we aim to dismantle, create divisions between “deserving” and “underserving” people, preserve existing power relations, or utilize exclusionary, one-size-fits-all, standardized treatments.

Sources: @ProjectLets, @HarmReductionCoalition, CrimethInc., Survived & Punished NY

Slide No. 6 reads:

One of the main questions brought up, though, is what abolitionists plan to do in the case of homicide, rape, domestic violence, and other harms. While this is entirely valid, this question seems to imply that 1) police are already effectively responding to such harms rather than perpetuating and/or ignoring them and 2) that there is one collective abolitionist response.

For one, the majority of sexual assault, for example, goes unreported and less than 0.5% of perpetrators are incarcerated. (And this assumes that through the reporting process and incarceration, survivors will somehow find healing, perpetrators will find understanding, and that sexual assault does not continue within prisons.) Meanwhile, let’s use our hometown as one example of many, a complaint of sexual violence is filed against a New Orleans Police Department officer every 10 days and nearly 1 in 5 NOPD officers have been reported for sexual and/or intimate partner violence.

And secondly, we have a plethora of organizations like Critical Resistance and cultures like that of the Diné (Navajo) to learn from and build upon. We don’t have to be stuck within this false dilemma fallacy, that there is only policing or total chaos. Don’t you see that that is the state’s way of constricting communal power?

Sources: @RAINN, @CopWatchNola, @WokeScientist

Slide No. 7 reads:

To expand this conversation, abolition heavily aligns with the political ideal of “anarchism.” Anarchism supports the absence of government and absolute freedom of the individual. And despite its negative connotations, anarchy also reflects an evolution of community-based care rather than just a deconstruction of what currently exists.

A simplified version of its 6 agreed-upon principles are:

Autonomy and Horizontality: define yourself on your own terms, we stand on an equal footing

Mutual Aid: bonds of solidarity form a stronger social glue than fear, support your community

Voluntary Association: associate or don't associate with whomever you wish

Direct Action: accomplish goals directly rather than depending on representatives or authorities

Revolution: overthrow those in power who enforce coercive hierarchies (ex. white supremacy)

Self-Liberation: you must be at the forefront of your own liberation, freedom must be taken

While being an abolitionist does not require alignment with anarchism, it is worth considering how the state plays such an enduring role in various social harms. Concurrently, whenever you treat other living beings with consideration and respect, come to reasonable compromise rather than coercion, and decide to share or delegate tasks, you are already living by anarchist principles.

Sources: Peter Gelderloos, David Graeber

Slide No. 8 reads:

So, how can you get involved? How do we continue the efforts already being made by activists worldwide? After such an overload of information and even more to learn, we understand how political frameworks like abolition can seem daunting, but they don't have to be! Here are some general next steps:

Read the "8toAbolition" steps.

Look into "podmapping" so you know whom to run to when you have been harmed or perpetuate harm.

See if there are any pre-existing mutual aid networks in your community, and if not, start one with your neighbors or peers!

Begin to research issues affecting communities other than your own. Abolition is intrinsically tied to all of us as we are all surveilled. For example, do you understand how prison and policing further ableism, transphobia, or the sex trade? What about policing internationally (see our allies in: the Kingdom of Hawai'i, Palestine, Artsakh, Kashmir...)?

Research the differences between capitalism, socialism, and communism. Abolition and anti-capitalism are foundational to one another as well.

Look into the other industrial complexes we named in the beginning (psychiatry, foster care, the military, the Family...).

Volunteer (remotely or in-person) with organizations like Better Future Program (@bfpnola) to both educate yourself and directly serve your community!

And if you're looking for further reading/listening, BFP offers over 3,000 FREE social justice, mental health, and academic resources in our Linktr.ee, including study guides for beginners. While we can't promise that the struggle for liberation will always be easy, BFP will always do its best to support you in whatever way we know how.

End ID.]

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benkeibear · 3 months

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✨ HTML for pretty colors tutorial ✨

Hello silly hamsters in my phone 🫶 I'm lowkey shocked to see blogs gatekeeping this knowledge but yeah. Make your blog pretty! Match your text to dividers or just have it as colorful as you'd like!

First of all, you can not do this on the mobile app! You need to either use a laptop or your phone / tablet's internet browser (in my case safari)

You start by logging into your account and either you make a post or you edit a post. I recommend making the post on the app first because editing is certainly faster & easier!

This is our starting point! For the fancy fonts you can use messletters

I will now log into tumblr on my web browser and click on edit this post.

You then have to click on the little gear icon in the top right corner to change the settings on your post.

There you have to click on "rich text" to change it to "HTML"

Your post should now look like this:

A quick rundown on html.

You always start with a letter or code in brackets. to end what you're doing it's </>. The slash signals the end.

P= paragraph and to end

I= italics and to end

b= bold and to end

Now tumblr will automatically do this for you if you made a text bold/in italics on your mobile post but to keep this tutorial simple i left that out here. You can always edit your text in the app after! Just not the color.

And as you see, the fancy text is now in coding. But we get to that later!

To colorize your text it's easiest to just use this website as it gives you lots of options!

First i will be choosing the option of "solid color" and you can then put in the hex code of your desired color into the color box.

In the top box you will have to put the text you will color - for this tutorial it's "Testing"

Then you copy the box HTML code and paste it into tumblr where your word(s) are. Do not remove the in front and after your word/sentence !

For the sake of this tutorial marked the html code for colors in pink and the words in blue

Your code will now look like this!

For the gradient you can simply choose horizontal gradient or three colored gradient on the website above and copy/paste the html text.

Mind you that every single letter will get its own color code now so the word gradient suddenly looks very long in html.

If you save the post it will now look like this!

Important to know is that you can color the fancy text only solid as the website can not color it as it is and putting the letter codes in the box above does not work either.

To color the fancy letters you simply copy the color code instead of the whole text - which looks like this:

Don't forget to add behind the word/the codes you're coloring to signal that this is where the color stops! If you forget to add it, nothing will be colored.

If you decide you still want to have the fancy lettering in multiple colors you have to color letter code by letter code manually like this:

(I made a very poor choice on 2 different greens but oh well)

If you'd like to change your text, you can always do that on the mobile app like you usually would. You just can't change the color unless it's into a default color. But you can still change the size or make it bold for example.

Anyhoot, this is the whole magic behind html. It's a lot and might be very complicated at first but you will eventually get the hang of it! Took me weeks and hours until someone sat me down and went through it step by step. If you have any questions or something doesn't work as you thought it would please don't hesitate to reach out - I'm always happy to help!

#rhy speaks ♡#html template #html tutorial #make tumblr pretty 2024 #tumblr tutorial #divider tutorial #writing resources #resources

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whatdoeseverybodywant · 3 months

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You're the Only Girl for Me - Chapter 12

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

All OC Characters belong to me

Series Masterlist

taglist: @christinabae @southerngirl41 @jeyusos-girl @jeyusosgirl @reci1996 @melaninsugababy @bemybabiibish @jstarr86 @baconeggndcheez @nbanenefrmdao @purplehairgawdess @arination99 @alyyaanna @m3llowww @jeysbae @empressdede @theninthwonder @badbitchcentralinc @bluesole16 @leaderofthebadbitchbrigade @bebesobrielo @venusesworld @babysyhsyh

**if your name is bold, tumblr won’t let me tag you**

February 4th 2021 - Pensacola FL

It had taken 3 weeks to get Josh moved into his new place and have it up to par for when Tracy brought the boys down. Tracy had insisted that she needed to make sure that her kids weren’t being brought to some ‘crack house’.... those were her exact words and it pissed Josh off, and brought on an argument that had her pushing back the boys visit another week.

“So you ready to see your boys?” Airielle had as she excitedly bounced on her toes. She was beyond happy for him because she knew how much he missed them and Josh couldn’t wipe the smile off his face, no matter how hard he tried.

“Hell yeah.” He said, grabbing his keys off the counter. “You sure you don’t wanna come with me to pick them up” Airielle nodded her head.

“I’m sure. You spend the day with your boys and I'll meet up with y’all for dinner.” She cupped his cheek when he gave her a look. “I promise I'm not tryna run away or anything. I’m really excited to meet them. It’s just…” She paused and bit her lip.

“Tracy” He said and nodded his head in understanding. “Aight, i’ll call before comin’ to pick you up.” She nodded and grabbed her purse before walking out the door with him. She let him walk her to her car and placed a kiss on his lips before driving away.

Airielle groaned as she entered her apartment and saw Joe lounging on her couch.

“Don’t you have a home?” Joe rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, but I like being here. Whatchu’ doing here anyway. I thought you were meeting Jahair and Jahmir?” Airielle grabbed two waters out of the fridge and sat down on the couch passing him one.

“Yeah later on. Their mom wants to see Josh’s apartment to make sure it meets her standards or something,”

“You ain’t wanna see her? Size up the competition?” She sent him a glare that made him laugh and hold up his hands. “I’m kidding” she hummed and rolled her eyes.

“I can deal with him having kids, but the whole baby mama slash ex-wife thing,” She shrugged “Imma have to work up to that.” Joe chuckled and nodded his head.

“Yeah, Trace can be a bit much at times I don’t blame you.” Airielle shrugged again

“I mean, if I wanna stay with Josh, imma have to meet her eventually just not now.”

The butterflies in Airielle’s stomach intensified as she heard a knock on the door. She knew Josh liked to actually meet her at her door instead of her coming down to his car, but she thought him having his sons that he would make an exception.

All of the nervousness left her body when she opened the door though. Josh stood there with his usual bouquet of flowers but his two sons also had one rose each in their hands. “Hey,” He smirked and handed her the bouquet and his sons followed suit with their single roses.

“Thank you.” She said smiling at the youngest, Jahmir who blushed and hid behind his father's legs.

“I stopped to get ya’ flowers and the boys wanted to get you some too.” Airielle placed a hand over her heart and thanked the two boys again before letting the three of them in so she could put the flowers in the vase.

“Thank you guys. My other flowers were starting to become withered.” Josh led the boys over to the couch before grabbing Airielle’s hand and going into her bedroom, cracking the door. “What? What’s wrong?”

Josh sighed and grabbed her hands, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of them. “Don’t be mad at me aight?” When she nodded, Josh continued. “Tracy is coming out with us tonight.”

“Oh.” Airielle said, pulling her hands out of his grasp and wrapping her arms around herself. “I thought she was just flying down with them and leaving.”

“She was, but uh- Mir brought you up and she said there was no way she was letting her kids meet you without her meeting you first.” Airielle sighed and sat on her bed. “I’m sorry Rih”

“I mean I guess it’s okay.”

“You sure?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “Cause it’s okay if you don’t want to meet her.” Airielle shook her head.

“No, it's cool. I wanna spend time with you and your boys.” Josh nodded with a big smile on his face.

“Aight bet, come on before they start tearing up ya’ living room.”

AirielleJones

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Airielle had never felt more awkward in her whole entire life. Josh had warned her that Tracy could be a bit much but.. Jesus she was insufferable. Everything was cool at the arcade, Jahmir and Jahir had pulled Airielle and Josh all around the arcade while Tracy stayed at the table with their stuff.

Airielle could avoid Tracy at the arcade by walking away when she was around, but it was at dinner that they sat across from each other and Tracy kept sending Airielle glares when she would try to talk to Jahir or Jahmir, Tracy would answer for them as if she didn’t want Airielle talking to her kids.

Josh glared at Tracy as he leaned closer to whisper into Airielle’s ear. “Don’t worry bout her aight? As soon we done eating me, you and the boys can leave.” Airielle sighed and nodded her head. She had no clue as to why Tracy was making everything so difficult.

Yeah, they used to be married and they were together for a long time, but from what Josh had told her, Tracy had been moved on and the boys had already met her new boyfriend without any interference from Josh.

“So Arabella-”

“Oh, it’s Airielle.” Tracy shrugged and waved her hand dismissively

“Same thing.” Airielle let out an exasperated sigh as she grabbed her cup and took a sip. “So I hear you work for the WWE too.” Airielle nodded. “Are you a wrestler as well? I don’t remember seeing you on T.V”

Airielle resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “No, I’m not a wrestler, I'm a backstage interviewer.” Tracy frowned her face up.

“Oh, that sounds boring.”

“Oh well it’s not” Airielle shot back immediately then cut her eyes towards Josh who had covered his mouth with his hand, trying to hide his smile.

“Daddy, I'm tired.” Jahmir interrupted and Airielle sent out a silent prayer. Finally she could get away from Tracy. Josh gave Airielle his card so she could pay and took the two boys to the bathroom. Airielle immediately took the card and rushed over to the counter so she could pay.

“Is that my husband's cuban?” Airielle’s hand flew up to the chain on her neck. “It looks just like the one I got him for his birthday last year.”

Airielle sighed. “Ex-husband and No, it’s not his.” Was all Airielle said, getting the receipt and walking out of the restaurant with Tracy hot on her heels.

“You know,” Tracy said once she and Airielle were outside “I think you would look so much better without all that make-up. Your skin is probably crying out for a break.” Airielle let out a loud laugh, tilting her head. Her eyes twinkled with amusement. Tracy was trying to get a rise outta her but it wasn’t going to work.

“My skin is fine, thank you very much.” She rolled her eyes, still laughing. It was at the moment Airielle wished Josh gave her the keys to the car because if Tracy said one more thing to her, Airielle wasn’t sure if she’d be able to hold it together. Luckily Josh and the boys finally came out. Airielle stood there awkwardly as she and Josh waited for the boys to say goodbye to their mother.

Tracy turned to Airielle and gave her one final up and down glance before saying “I guess it was nice meeting you.” And walked off before Airielle could say anything back.

“Thank you.” Josh said, breaking Airielle out of her thoughts. He had just finished putting the boys to bed. She finished wrapping her hair up before turning towards him, a confused look on her face.

“For what?” Josh shrugged and patted the spot on the bed next to him so she could come lay next to him.

“I know you wasn’t too happy about having to spend the day with Tracy” He said as she climbed into the bed next to him. “So thank you for still coming and spending time with me and the boys.”

“It was no big deal.” She shrugged. “I mean, no I wasn’t ready to meet your ex, but it was gonna happen eventually right?” She laid down and propped herself up on her elbow. “Besides, I’m happy I got to meet your kids today. they’re cool as fuck.” She smiled and Josh knew right then and there he was in love.

AHHHH! they're so cute 😭🥰

sorry in advance about the next couple chapters

#wwe #jey uso #jey uso x black reader #jey uso imagine #main event jey uso #jey uso x reader #wwe x black reader #jey uso fanfic #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso fluff #jey uso x fem reader #jey uso x oc #wwe x fem reader #blackwriters #black reader

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tabbedtabby · 3 months

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i bet on losing dogs

johanna mason x fem reader

summary: After Johanna fails her Block exam to participate in the invasion of the Capitol, you go say your farewells to her, bearing a gift.

a/n: i haven’t posted on tumblr since like 2021 so sorry if this looks ugly LMAO idk how to be aesthetic on here. anyway if you have any thoughts lmk!

cw: angst, not proofread

words: 1.9k

————————————————————————

Your hands fumble with the bulletproof vest covering you as you exit the Block. You have passed your personal assessment, it seems. The one that decides whether you’re fit enough to storm the Capitol with the rest of the victors; well, considering they pass it, too. The Block throws you into a simulated version of what a battle in the Capitol would be like, and personally preys on the weakness of each person who enters. So, in your case, it was fully checking an area before entering it. You’re not the most careful person in the world, you’ll admit.

You take the vest off, and see only a handful more soldiers waiting for their assessment, including Katniss. You had trained with her. She fought hard for this, and you know how badly she wants to go to the Capitol herself. You know how she feels. You, too, are a victim of Snow’s treachery.

You glance around, searching for Johanna. She’s pretty easy to spot, with the shaved head and everything. So when you don’t see her, you frown. She’d gone in only a couple more people before you did, but you don’t remember seeing her leave the Block, either. There is one face you recognize, though. Haymitch. You assume he’s waiting for Katniss, but when he walks up to you, you realize you’re mistaken.

“Johanna’s back in the hospital.”

“What?”

You ask the question, but you’re not really waiting for an explanation. You’re already shoving past everyone to get to the elevator. Of course. Johanna’s greatest weakness. They flooded the streets during her assessment.

When the elevator door opens into the hospital sector, you already know where to look. Johanna’s sitting up in a hospital bed, her eyes wide and her chest rising and falling rapidly. They must have stripped her of her soldier uniform, because she’s back in the same hospital gown she was given when rescued from the Capitol. What little hair she’s managed to grow from then until now is damp and spiky, and your suspicions are confirmed.

When Johanna sees you, your heart almost shatters. You’ve never seen her so empty of life. Not even when she’d first came back from the Capitol. She’s completely stripped of her anger, her abrasiveness, her bold personality. All that’s left is fear.

You don’t say anything to her. You just sit down at the foot of her bed. She wouldn’t want your pity, you know this. Instead, your hands close around something in the pocket of your pants. Something you’ve been meaning to give to Johanna, and there couldn’t be a better moment than now, now that you’ll be storming the Capitol without her.

“Here.” you say, your hand extending towards her. She stares blankly at you for a moment, almost certainly pumped full of morphling.

Johanna’s hands unfurl the handkerchief to reveal a set of rusted golden earrings shaped like little suns. Your mother’s. The only fine thing you’d ever owned before becoming a victor that you could never bring yourself to sell. The things that comforted you while being hunted in the arena, and again when you were reaped a second time for the Quarter Quell. Your lifeline at one point.

Her eyes glisten over with tears, but she quickly squeezes them shut. “I can’t take these, (Y/N).” she croaks out.

“Yes, you can, stupid. I’m giving them to you,” you tell her gently, a small smile on your lips as you stare into Johanna’s eyes. Even on the morphling, her eyes are filled with emotion.

“She died a long time before the rest of my family. I don’t need them anymore.” you don’t mention how there’s a good chance you might die in the Capitol, and you want those earrings to be passed on to someone else you care about. And the fact that Johanna has nothing to her name except District 13’s depressing dark green jumpsuit makes you feel sad.

“He has to die.” Johanna responds after a couple of minutes, her voice still hoarse. But she doesn’t say it with her normal ferocity. The contact with her method of torture has truly broken her.

“I know. Katniss is going to kill him, Johanna.” you say, placing one of your hands over hers. She stares up at you.

“And then… we’ll be free. Forever. We’ll go to District Seven and do whatever we’d like for the rest of our stupid lives. Get some real food. These bland-ass meals here are killing me,” you joke, and that makes the corner of Johanna’s mouth twitch up. But you can sense her considering your offer, too. Of course, she was always going to go home to District 7, but she can’t deny the idea of you coming with her excites her. Someone to fill that lonely old house that has gone so long without another resident besides herself.

Johanna’s hand clutches around the fabric that holds your parting gift. You squeeze her other hand, cold and damp. You don’t mind warming her up.

But there’s something in the air that neither of you address. That looming reality that you may not come back. Neither you nor Johanna have spoken about how you felt about each other, but you’re all each other has at this point. You share a room here in District 13 and hold each other through nightmares when they inevitably come each night. But that’s about the extent of how far your relationship has gone.

Before you think about it, you lean down and press your lips onto hers. Admittedly, you’ve wanted to for months now. But nothing could compare to how it felt in reality. Although brief, the feeling of her soft and faintly warm lips sends goosebucks running up your neck. Johanna’s lips are a wet and warm abyss that you never want to escape. You are forced to pull away anyway.

“Damn, brainless,” Johanna whispers, the hint of a smirk on her lips. You can’t stop the grin that spreads onto your face. She sounds more like her old self. Sarcastic. Witty. When you look into those deep green eyes, you know she will be able to put herself back together again. Just as she has done before, again and again. She has rebuilt herself into the woman you’re afraid you’ve fallen in love with as you stare into those eyes.

Almost on queue, the hospital quarter’s door opens, revealing a sympathetic looking Katniss and Finnick. Katniss holds a small bundle of something in her hands, and you realize they’ve come to say their own farewells to Johanna. The four of you have become somewhat of friends after going through training together.

Katniss’ gift ends up being a wad of pine needles to remind Johanna of home, which receives an emotional response from Johanna. She misses District 7 badly. You promise yourself the minute that Snow is dead, you will take her home. Home to the thick trunks of the trees and the sound of pine needles crunching under sturdy boots.

Eventually, you realize you need to get going. Katniss and Finnick have finished their goodbyes, and are already heading towards the door. You give Johanna one last look as you follow them out.

“I’ll see you soon.” you say, flashing her a promising smile before the door closes behind you.

Finnick was right. The last thing you thought of was her lips.

——

Bright green leaves rustle lightly, their branches flickering across the sky. The wind flows through them effortlessly, causing the deep emerald forest to appear alive in its movements. Birdsong ricochets on the sturdy trunks of the trees, filling the canopy with the hopeful sound of music.

One of the birds flitters down to the rock in front of where Johanna sits, its tiny feet hopping on the smooth gray. Its black, beady eyes stare up at her in question before launching back up into the leaves.

This is where she spends most of her days. Sitting at the base of a tree, head leaned back. Staring up into where the leaves catch the sunlight. Watching as the sun moves across the sky before it sets beyond the horizon. Only then does she take the trek back home.

She still lives in the Victor’s Village in District 7. After all, where else was she supposed to go? She yearned for her home. Even more so after your promise to go back with her once the war ended. How it was foolish of her to believe she’d ever share those walls with another body again. Snow took her family. She never truly came to terms with it, but it had been long enough that she could stand to be in that house again without reliving it all. That conversation after she’d become a victor, and the consequences that came soon after. It stung like a rotting wound every time she entered her own home. It was hard to sleep knowing she lived in a murder site.

Johanna tried, she really did. She tried not to let herself love again. Because as soon as she did, Snow’s offer would be on the table again. And this time, she would know what would happen if her answer was no. It would mean another bleeding body on the floor. Another soul to haunt those walls. More screams to ricochet inside her skull every time she closed her eyes. It would never be worth it. No matter how badly she wanted someone to care about her. Most days it would have helped more than anything to just know that there was someone out there who gave a shit about her.

But she couldn’t help it. Johanna couldn’t help that feeling she got around you. And, damn it, she tried. Lord knows she did. But you were so kind, and more than anything, unafraid. Unafraid of her anger and ferocity. You weren’t scared of her like everyone else; you were curious. You wanted to know Johanna, why she acted the way she did. Not immediately write her off like everyone else. No. You were different.

In the Quarter Quell, she had begun to get to know you. But it wasn’t until Johanna was rescued from the Capitol—she hates that word, rescued—that she began to be truly afraid of what she was feeling. The way her face would get hot every time you’d give her one of those wide, genuine grins that Johanna didn’t know was possible to be found on the face of a victor. She hated the feeling of skin against her own more than anything, but with you, she craved it. That’s when she knew she was in trouble; or rather that you were. Loving Johanna Mason is a death sentence.

And, unfortunately, you were guilty of that crime. Blown up into a million tiny pieces at the hands of the same bomb that killed Katniss’ little sister. She tries to reach out to Johanna. Or rather, she thinks Peeta encourages her to. But she can’t bring herself to answer. Not when Katniss gets the pleasure of living out the rest of her life with Peeta. Johanna doesn’t care if her sister is dead. She’s lost more and still has ended up alone.

So, that’s her fate. She doesn’t try again. To love. To care. Not about other people. Not about anything. But to sit alone under forest canopy, an axe still held firmly in her calloused hands. Some habits are hard to break.

So Johanna rots in that empty house that is too big for her, but too small for her grief, until the large doses of morphling will eventually get to her. She will die alone and unwanted. Her happy ending.

#johanna mason #johanna mason x reader #johanna mason x you #the hunger games #hunger games #hunger games imagine

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can-i-make-image-descriptions · 1 year

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General guide for image descriptions

What are image descriptions and why are they important?

Image Descriptions text following a picture explaining what’s in that picture. They are primarily for blind/visually impaired people with screen readers and visually impaired people who can read text but have issues with pictures.

They also help people who have trouble:

focusing on/understanding a picture

reading text on images (ex low contrast, weird fonts, etc)

getting images to load

Without image descriptions posts are not accessible to many people

How to make image descriptions in general

Do something to indicate you are starting a description

That way people know you’re describing the image and not commenting on it.

Describe the image

You want to be concise but also include all relevant details.

Indicate you’re ending the image description

That way people know that whatever is next is commentary etc and not part of the image description

I learned from example, so here are lots of examples to look at (it’s basically all the descriptions I reblog but didn’t make, so there’s a whole lot of different styles.

I am in the process of making a guide specific to tweets and tumblr tags/replies/posts that I will link on this post when they’re done I’m just very disabled.

Things not to do a

Bold, underline, or italicize words; use small text, all caps, fancy colors, fancy fonts

This makes it difficult for many people who need image descriptions to read them

In addition, all caps and gradient text tend to make screen readers say one letter at a time instead of reading out the words

Correct misspellings or grammar mistakes

We want to be as accurate to the image as possible.

If the spelling mistake is to the point a screen reader wouldn’t be able to read it, I recommend putting the actual word next to it.

If there’s just a wall of text, you can add paragraph breaks, commas or periods, etc, just put a note saying what you added

Sensor curse words etc

Feel free to add on

#image descriptions #how to guide #not a description

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bellaxgiornata · 1 year

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Falling For the Devil [Part eighteen: "The Visit to Fogwell's"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You leave The Bulletin late and Matt requests you stop by Fogwell’s Gym so the pair of you can walk back to his place together. The night quickly takes a turn you didn't expect.

You get very worked up over Matt’s sweaty biceps, he steals your underwear, and then Matt eventually proceeds to deliver on his word–thoroughly.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 7.8k

a/n: This smupdate is your first encounter with what I like to call Spicy Matty. We see many sides to Matt in this series (especially in my smupdates) and I have named a lot of them (Super Soft Matthew, Feral Matt/Devil, Drunk Matt, and Spicy Matty). Enjoy the current biggest smupdate in this series, I got carried away writing this one... The rest of the installments on tumblr for this series can be found here.

Turning the street corner, you tugged your cardigan tighter around yourself. The nights were starting to get a bit colder now that Fall was finally here and you'd almost wished you'd grabbed a coat this morning–or at least worn dress pants instead of a skirt. But you didn't know you'd be working late at The Bulletin tonight when you'd left for work today, or that Matt would have called and invited you to stop by Fogwell’s Gym, the place he loved dearly because of his father and the place he also spent some nights working out alone. Matt had asked you to stop by after you finished work, offering to walk you back to his place for the evening since you’d both already planned to spend the night together.

You'd never gone with him to Fogwell’s before, though he'd talked about it a few times with you and you'd certainly passed it plenty of times walking around Hell's Kitchen. Now you were here pulling the unlocked door open and stepping inside, being hit with the distinct smell of a gym–sweat, rubber, and something like musty leather. You could hear a fast, repetitive thumping noise before your eyes found Matt across the dimly lit room.

Hesitantly making your way towards him, not wanting to interrupt, your eyes momentarily took in the multitudes of old and new posters alike lining the walls. They seemed to fill almost every section of wall space. In a few locations your eyes spotted the name ‘Murdock’ in large, bold print.

Eventually you stopped, leaning up against the side of the boxing ring a few feet away from Matt. He was in front of a punching bag, throwing a series of punches at the hanging bag with his wrapped fists. Tonight he was in a sleeveless shirt and dark sweatpants, his hair a slight mess from exertion. You could see the sheen of sweat over his face and his arms through the dim light and hear each sharp exhale and grunt from him with each smack of his fist into the bag.

Your gaze lingered along his bare arms, watching the repetitive flex and pull of the large muscles in his biceps and forearms, your lip caught between your teeth. You certainly loved those arms and how they had picked you up and would toss you onto his bed. Instantly a heat rose inside of you as you imagined him tossing you onto the mat of that boxing ring behind you, climbing atop you sweaty and panting. Filling the old gym with the sounds of grunts for an entirely different reason.

Matt’s punching drew to a stop, his hands darting out to grab the swinging bag and halt its movement. He was breathing hard, chest rising and falling rapidly as he glanced over his shoulder back towards you. There was a smirk drawn over his mouth that your eyes did not miss.

“I see you found your way here with no problem,” Matt panted out.

“I’ve uh, passed the gym a few times before,” you told him, eyes still taking in the sight of his sweaty, exposed arms.

He turned towards you, wiping the back of a wrapped hand across his sweat-slickened forehead as he gazed back at you. “Not quite the reaction I expected to you stopping by,” Matt commented, his head cocking to the side as his eyes narrowed a bit, landing along your chest. “You’re enjoying this a lot more than I’d have thought.”

He was reading your body, you realized. Blushing, you crossed your arms over your chest as if that could block him from hearing your racing heart and forced yourself to stop checking out his arms. Instead, your gaze rose and you focused on his face. Though the amused, cocky grin in combination with his slightly mussed hair and the sweat dotting his forehead wasn’t helping the growing desire in you.

It had been a week since you’d both had sex, Matt having been distracted with his Hardcore Parkouring–this week's new name you were trying out for what he did after seeing how he climbed your fire escape one too many times–and you had been struggling to meet some deadlines for Ellison at the last minute. There hadn’t exactly been time for sex. But now, staring at him in this sweaty, exerted state, one that reminded you of how he appeared post-sex, had your cunt throbbing with an unexpected need you hadn’t anticipated until you’d at least gotten back to his apartment.

He crossed the distance between you, dragging a hand through his dark hair a few times as his chest continued to heave. The smirk hadn’t left his mouth as he came to a stop just in front of you.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” he ordered.

Feeling shy and put on the spot, you cleared your throat and quickly dropped your gaze to the floor. “Nothing,” you muttered. “Just uh, just was waiting for you to finish.”

He took another step closer, leaning just a bit forward so his mouth was beside your ear when he whispered, “Lie.”

You licked your lips nervously, eyes still downcast as Matt’s face shifted and his gaze fell somewhere near your mouth at the movement. Breath coming in short, you glanced up at him from under your lashes, eyes focused on his plump lips. It had been a few days since you’d last had the opportunity to kiss them.

“You’re thinking about me fucking you, aren’t you?” he whispered.

You bit your lip in response to his blunt question, a soft whine barely leaving your throat. The corner of his mouth twitched upward in satisfaction.

“I thought so,” he murmured.

His hips pushed into yours before you felt his hands slide down your hips, continuing down along the side of your thighs. Then he gripped them tight and pulled you up onto the edge of the ring before you knew what he’d been doing, and your upper back rested against the lowest rope as a faint gasp of surprise escaped you. His hands were running down the length of your thighs, his nose nuzzling in against yours.

“Thought you were in a skirt tonight,” he whispered.

You could feel a dampness beginning to pool between your thighs and he hadn’t even kissed you yet, the sharp exhales from his mouth near yours making you dizzy. Unable to resist, you leant in towards him, desperate to feel his mouth on yours, but he pulled back with a smug smile on his face. Frowning, you watched as his hands rose in front of himself, his left hand gradually tearing up the velcro of the wrap on his right hand loudly. He unwound the wrap frustratingly slowly from his hand, his gaze focused along your collarbone and that damn smug smile on his mouth as he worked.

“I’m not going to fuck you here, sweetheart,” he told you. “But–” he continued, the loud tear of velcro from the other hand wrap loudly echoing through the gym, the sound causing you to swallow hard as your focus remained on the darkened expression on his face, “–I am going to touch you.”

You whimpered in anticipation, your thighs pressing together, your cunt still aching for attention. Matt’s smug smile only grew as he tossed his hand wraps aside, his hands falling down to rest along your knees over your skirt. More wet heat pooled between your legs.

“Though you’re not getting off until we’re back in my apartment,” Matt warned you, “and I’m fucking you into the tile of my shower wall. So don’t get too excited, sweetheart.”

"What?" you asked, shocked and confused.

His hands slid your knees apart as far as your skirt would allow. Gradually his right hand slid to the inside of your thigh, gliding its way agonizingly slow up toward your underwear.

"You heard me," Matt said. "No cumming until we’re fucking in my shower."

Heat flooded your cheeks. You'd had sex with Matt multiple times now over the four months you'd been together, and you'd eventually gotten comfortable around him after the first few times–except for that night you'd had sex shortly after coming home drenched from the rain. That time you'd been as nervous to fuck him as if it had been the first time again, struggling not to shout ‘I love you’ with each thrust of his cock.

But never had Matt been like this . He was always sweet and caring. There was usually a little dirty talk involved, you at some points participating, but nothing along the lines of Matt about to finger you in a public setting, even if you were currently alone, talking about not letting you cum until he was fucking you in his shower.

Your heart raced a little faster in your chest, equal parts nervous and aroused. This was new for you. Exciting. And Matt, well, you loved him. Trusted him. And fuck if you wouldn't let him do just about anything to you.

The tips of three of his fingers lightly brushed along you through your damp underwear and a moan vibrated low in your throat. Matt's left hand clamped down hard on your right thigh in response.

"You okay with this?" he asked, voice raspy as his fingers ran gently back and forth along you.

Biting your lip, you nodded quickly in response. "Yes," you breathed out. "Please."

The corner of his lips curled upwards, his fingers finding your clit through the wet fabric and rubbing lightly. Your eyes partially closed, breath coming in shallower.

"Mmm, I like the sound of you begging," he purred, licking his lips.

Swallowing hard and trying to keep your brain from overthinking, you whispered, "Touch me, Matty. Please."

His fingers stopped their movements and you froze, worried you'd said something wrong.

"Actually, sweetheart," Matt began, sliding his hand out from under your skirt, the retreat causing you to frown and chew the inside of your cheek nervously, "I want you to touch yourself for me."

Your breath caught, eyes going wide. "What?" you squeaked out, panic seeping in.

He grinned, tugging your skirt up your thighs from your place on the edge of the boxing ring. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire. The thought of touching yourself in front of him for some reason had you wanting to sprint far, far away from the gym right now.

Was he expecting you to be sexy? You didn't do sexy.

His hands finally paused, gripping the waistband of your underwear as your skirt sat bunched up around your waist. "You seem ready to bolt," he commented, his gaze focusing on your chin, cocky smirk replaced with concern. "Is this still okay?"

You bit your lip, face still burning and nerves rolling in your stomach. "I–" you began, pausing immediately.

You desperately wanted to fuck Matt and you were curious as to where this was going, but you were also terrified of embarrassing yourself. You'd never touched yourself in front of someone else before–at least not intentionally. The time Matt broke into your house didn't count because you hadn't known he'd been listening in.

"What's going through your mind?" he asked gently, warm palms coming down to massage your thighs.

Swallowing hard, trying to control your racing heart, you tried to find your voice. "I'm just…nervous. I–I don't really do the whole being sexy thing," you awkwardly admitted with a grimace.

A slow smile pulled his lips up at your words, his eyebrows rising on his forehead in something akin to amusement. "Really? Because I think you do it well–and often."

The snort fell ungracefully out of your nose before you threw a hand over your face to try to hide the sound. Matt only smiled back at you warmly.

"I find you very sexy," Matt assured you, hands lightly tugging at your underwear again. "And I think you touching yourself," he continued, tongue quickly slipping out to wet his lips, " because of me is even sexier." His fingers tugged at the waistband of your underwear yet again, his serious gaze fixed on your chin. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," you breathed out instantly, the immediate response drawing a smile that crinkled the corner of his eyes.

"You want to continue this?" he asked next.

Biting your lip, you slowly nodded your head in response. Your heart was still hammering loudly in your ears.

His hands carefully slid your underwear down your legs, moving slowly as if he was giving you plenty of time to change your mind. When he slipped the fabric over your feet, he tossed it across the gym and you swallowed hard.

"Relax," he whispered. "It's just us here."

One of his hands reached out, gently tugging your right hand from where it was gripping the edge of the ring and carefully he brought it down between your thighs, right over your clit. His hand released yours and landed back on your legs, gently massaging the muscle below it again.

Breath coming in short, your fingers resting along your anxious clit, your eyes landed on his bare arms and the taut muscles twitching with the movements of his hands. Timidly, your fingers slowly began rubbing gentle circles, your pulse quickening when Matt's bottom lip slipped between his teeth, a darkened expression returning to his face.

"That's it, sweetheart," he praised, hands both abruptly gripping your thighs tight. "Does that feel good?"

"Yes," you whispered.

His hands continued to massage the muscles of your thighs as your fingers continued to tentatively massage your clit. Your gaze was focused on Matt’s face, his lip still drawn between his teeth and his eyes half-lidded as his own gaze landed somewhere along your racing heart. Occasionally his short nails would dig into one of your thighs and a soft, sharp exhale would roll out of your mouth. You were finding it increasingly difficult to be self-conscious when his hands on your thighs in conjunction with your fingers on your clit were making you feel so goddamn good.

Tongue slipping out of your own mouth, wetting your lips, your gaze dropped down to Matt’s sweaty torso. You wished that sleeveless tank top would disappear and stop obstructing your view of the rest of his sweat-dampened muscles.

"You want my fingers?" he murmured, sliding his right hand up towards your cunt.

You squirmed along the edge of the boxing ring, left hand clamping hard on it to steady yourself. Nodding quickly, you felt your desire burning in you, the nerves you felt a minute ago quickly disappearing.

"Please," you breathed out.

His index and middle finger rubbed along your soaked slit, a faint rumble of a hum coming from him. You whined as he continued to tease your entrance.

"You're so wet," he whispered. "All for me?”

Leaning back into the rope behind you further, a noise of affirmation vibrated in your throat. Instantly one of his fingers dipped inside of you and you whimpered, squirming along the edge of the boxing ring again. The single digit made a few slow, gentle thrusts and you bit your lip, wanting more. As if sensing as much, he slid a second finger inside of you and your eyes rolled back, your left hand darting out to grip the back of Matt’s neck as if it had a mind of its own. Something like a growl rumbled in his chest in response and your nails dug into the skin at his nape.

His fingers set a slow pace, pumping in and out of you, your legs slowly beginning to tremble along the edge of the ring. The pad of your middle finger kept its rhythm at the same time, drawing you closer and closer to your climax. You were far past caring that you were touching yourself in a gym with the way Matt’s two fingers were fucking you.

He stepped closer to you between your legs, leaning over and lightly catching your shoulder in his teeth, his saliva dampening your cardigan. You moaned, hips jerking up into his fingers needily, the pace of your own finger increasing. Matt’s teeth released your shoulder, his mouth planting a kiss on the skin just before your ear beside his mouth. This close to you, you noted how he smelled like sweat and something so wholly him, and the scent alone caused a shudder to tear down your spine.

A moment later his fingers slid out of you, your eyes flying open as you gasped. You had been so fucking close , why the hell did he have to stop? One of his hands instantly grasped your wrist, pulling your own hand gently away from yourself. Immediately you whined in protest at the loss of all contact. Searching for friction, your legs attempted to clamp together, but they were obstructed by Matt’s hips as he continued to stand between them. A gentle huff of amusement came from his mouth still beside your ear.

“I already told you, sweetheart,” Matt purred into your ear, “you’re not cumming until I’m fucking you into the tile of my shower.”

Eyes closing, you groaned loudly in frustration. Matt only chuckled in response, his hands working to smooth your skirt back down over your legs.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he told you. "Consider it me paying you back for last week."

"Sure feels like payback," you mumbled. "But not the kind you mean."

He stepped away from you with a light laugh, your eyes momentarily noticing the slight tent of his sweatpants before he turned. Your hands flew to your face, rubbing the heels of your palms over your eyes as you tried to catch your breath. You were past worked up at this point, half tempted to slip into the bathroom and finish the job. Though you knew Matt would know and you doubted he’d let you finish. With a sigh, you lowered your hands and slid off the ring, your attention shifting to where Matt had thrown your underwear a bit ago.

Only they weren’t there.

You frowned, your eyes slowly finding their way to Matt who had paused halfway zipping up a bag along the nearby bench. As if he felt your eyes on him, he glanced over his shoulder, a cheeky smile on his face as he held up your red satin panties in a fist.

“Looking for something?” he teased.

Eyes widening, you headed towards him, reaching up to grab the underwear from his outstretched hand. His hand pulled out of your reach at the last second, your underwear going with it. A coy smile slid itself over his lips as he stared down at you, his gaze fixed along your left shoulder.

“I want you to walk back with me without them,” he told you. “Can you do that?”

“ Matt ,” you hissed, cheeks burning.

You had never gone anywhere without wearing underwear before. The thought of something happening, with the kind of luck you had, weighed too much on your mind to ever try. And now he wanted you to walk the block and a half back to his place, wound up and panty-less?

Hand lowering, he held them out towards you suddenly. The coy smile slipped from his face, replaced with something serious yet again.

“I would never make you do something you're uncomfortable with, though,” he assured you. “ But it’s not that far of a walk. And only you and I will know.” He leaned forward, whispering into your ear, “And it’ll make it that much faster to get undressed and into my shower.” He leaned back, smiling warmly at you with your underwear still in his outstretched hand.

Your eyes dropped to the red satin in his palm, chewing your lip as you contemplated it. He was right, no one else would know. And it wasn’t that far of a walk to his place, either. Plus the lack of additional clothing to remove was an added benefit with how badly you wanted to get off already. All were valid points on his part.

Gaze sliding up to Matt’s warm smile, taking in the way he patiently waited for you to decide what you wanted to do, you surprisingly found yourself leaning towards letting him throw the underwear into his bag. Matt somehow always had a way of making you feel safe and comfortable–even to the point of being willing to try something you’d normally be too terrified to do. Like walking a few blocks in a skirt without anything underneath it.

“Alright,” you answered slowly.

One of his brows quirked up onto his forehead. “You’re sure? You’re not feeling like I’m pressuring you into this, right? Because I’m not and I want you to–”

“Put my goddamn underwear in your bag, Matthew,” you cut him off, watching the smile widen on his face, “because you’re just slowing us down now.”

“You got it, sweetheart,” he said, shooting you a wink before tossing the fabric into his bag. Zipping it up, he threw the strap over his shoulder before unfolding his cane. “Someone’s eager,” he teased.

“It has been way too long since we’ve had sex,” you stated, feeling a faint blush rise to your cheeks.

“Oh?” Matt asked, a grin still plastered on his face as he stepped towards you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “And for future knowledge,” he began, the two of you making your way towards the exit, “what constitutes too long without sex for you?”

You were proud of yourself when you refrained from saying anytime his dick wasn’t buried inside of you. Instead you answered, “Two days.” He huffed out a laugh and you side-eyed him. “What?” you asked.

He shrugged as he released his hold around you, the pair of you exiting the gym. Taking a moment to lock the door behind you both, he said, “Your heart is telling me that’s a lie is all.”

You glanced down at your chest, shock written along your face. “Seriously?” you asked in disbelief.

He turned back towards you, sliding the key into his pocket before he wrapped his arm back around your waist. Still grinning, he began pulling you along with him in the direction of his place, cane tapping lightly along the ground. “Yeah,” he answered, turning and shooting you a smug look. “You want to try that again?”

Brows furrowing together, you asked hesitantly, “A day?”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “A little steadier but apparently not a full truth,” he told you.

You rolled your eyes, cheeks burning a little more. “Okay, you’re incredibly attractive and I like you a lot and I want to sleep with you all of the time,” you blurted. “Better?”

His arm around your waist squeezed you further into his side. “Yeah, that one wasn’t a lie,” he informed you.

“And what’s too long without sex for you?” you shot back, brows raised curiously.

“When it comes to you?” he asked, a hungry look in his eyes as he turned his full attention on you again, the look causing your heart to pound a little harder. “I want to fuck you all the time,” he stated bluntly and confidently. “If I never had to stop, I wouldn’t.” His voice lowered as he leaned in towards you, the pair of you still walking towards his place. “Your skin is the softest thing I’ve ever felt. The sounds you make drive me crazy– especially those little breathy whines that don’t quite make it out of your throat.”

You saw him bite his lip out of the corner of your eye and your bare cunt clenched around the cold air.

“Your body is beautiful,” he continued, clearly not finished whispering into your ear. “And the way your cunt always needs a moment to fit me–” he hissed a sharp breath in and you felt that particular part of your body begging for attention again. “Your smell–the taste of you–its like…a drug I never want to give up.”

A chill ran down your spine, one that had nothing to do with the cool night breeze. His voice alone was working you up all over again.

“But,” he said, straightening up beside you, tone easily shifting back to casual which always managed to give you whiplash, “I quite enjoy doing a great many other things with you as well. And as much as I love being lost in you, well,” he shrugged, “I wouldn’t have moments talking with you like this if I never stopped fucking you.”

You cleared your throat, your gaze dropping nervously down to your feet. “That was…weirdly sexy and sweet," you muttered.

Matt barked out a laugh beside you, the sound drawing a smile to your face. You loved whenever you made him laugh.

"So how are you doing there, sweetheart?" he asked.

"Cold," you answered.

Matt fought back another laugh, burrowing his nose into your hair. "I'm sorry," he apologized, "I didn't think about the cold. I promise I'll make sure you're real warm soon enough."

You melted into his side, enjoying the show of affection as he continued to lightly nuzzle the top of your head. "Why'd you want me to walk back without them?"

"Because I think it’s hot being the only other one who knows there's nothing under that skirt," he whispered into your hair. "But also, there's nothing… restricting the scent of you. So I uh–" he cleared his throat lightly, "–can more easily appreciate the scent of you. If it makes you feel any better, it's currently driving me crazy and I'm resisting the urge to have you right here on the sidewalk."

"Really?" you asked curiously, cheeks flushing despite the cold as you rested your head on his shoulder.

"Really," he answered. "You still underestimate the effect you have on me and I wish you didn't."

Your arms both came to wrap themselves around his waist, your arousal briefly dulling at the sweetness of the man at your side. You fought the urge to blurt the words that felt like they were sitting just there on the tip of your tongue. You were in love with Matthew Murdock and refraining from telling him was getting more and more difficult every passing day. Thankfully, his apartment building came into view before you could make an ass of yourself and blurt out an ‘I love you’ while he was carrying your panties in his gym bag.

It wasn’t long before the pair of you were in the elevator, riding it up to the sixth floor. You’d managed to snag it all to yourselves, which Matt apparently intended to take full advantage of with the way he’d grabbed your hips the moment the doors closed and drew your ass directly into his growing erection. As your own arousal came flooding back, your eyes were glued to the numbers near the elevator doors steadily climbing up to ‘six’ as Matt’s left hand slowly snaked its way to the front of you, very faintly rubbing your clit over your skirt. A shudder ran down you as your mouth clamped shut.

A moment later the doors opened and Matt’s hands instantly slid to more respectable locations. You both exited the elevator, and as you neared his door in the hallway, your body slightly blocking Matt’s now obvious hard-on, you both awkwardly greeted the older woman who lived across the hall. It was good she appeared to be leaving because you were pretty sure she would not want to hear the sounds that were about to be coming from Matt’s apartment.

As you both stopped in front of his door, his arms slipped underneath both of yours, the front of him flush to the back of you, his cock an ever present reminder pressing into your right ass cheek as he focused on unlocking his door. The way he was breathing, chin hovering above your right shoulder, his breath falling over your neck with each soft exhale, was somehow on its own driving you wild. The anticipation of that goddamn door opening was killing you.

Finally you heard the lock turn, and somehow it sounded louder than normal. Impatient, you reached out and turned the handle as Matt deposited the key back into his jacket pocket. He chuckled, most likely at your overeagerness.

You stepped into his apartment and the moment you turned around, Matt slammed his door shut, immediately dropping his gym bag to the floor and tossing his cane to the side, his eyes burning a hole into your collarbone the entire time.

"Bathroom," Matt ordered. "Now."

Biting your lip, you turned on your heel, an excitement washing over you as you quickly made your way down his entry hall. As you skirted around his sofa and coffee table, your eyes focused on the darkened hallway that led to his bathroom, Matt's large palm came down on your ass with a firm smack that sounded out through his silent apartment. Your eyes widened and a sharp, surprised gasp fell out of you at the impact. Pausing, you glanced over your shoulder to Matt behind you. His hand was kneading the stinging flesh beneath your skirt now, a pleased smirk on his mouth.

"You're the one slowing us down now," Matt pointed out.

He patted your ass lightly and you continued on to the bathroom, gnawing your lip even more.

This man's sexual prowess was going to kill you someday, you were sure of it.

Turning into the bathroom, Matt reached around you and switched on the light–a sweet gesture since it was solely for your benefit. His hands were on you immediately after, one hand cupping your breast over your blouse, his other sliding its way up under your skirt as he pulled your back into his front yet again. His nose brushed along your neck before you felt his soft lips earnestly kissing the delicate skin there. Your head instantly tilted to the side, offering your neck up to him.

While he attentively kissed along the length of your throat, his fingers found your slickened slit under your skirt. The pads of his fingers ran back and forth through the damp arousal he found there a few times and your brows knitted together as your head fell back on Matt's shoulder.

"Please stop teasing me, Matt," you begged.

You felt his lips curl into a smile along your neck. Two thick fingers dipped inside of you and your eyes fluttered shut, a pleased moan vibrating in your throat as your head rolled further back along his shoulder.

"Better?" Matt asked beside your ear.

You nodded vigorously along his shoulder, eyes still clamped shut as you hummed out an, "Mhmm."

He chuckled, his fingers still pumping into you. His mouth was on your cheek, planting a light kiss there. "You're still not cumming yet, don't get too comfortable," Matt told you, amusement in his tone.

Your brows furrowed and you groaned.

"Not until–" he began, back to kissing your neck, his tongue running along your skin, "–I'm fucking that beautiful cunt–" he continued between kisses, "–into the tile–" he gently nipped your neck, "–of my shower wall."

Not sure what had suddenly taken over you, you turned on your heel, Matt's fingers slipping out from inside of you and your neck now out of the reach of his mouth. Your hands flew out, yanking up the hem of his sleeveless shirt roughly, Matt standing there briefly surprised and dumbstruck. A moment later he was laughing lightly, his hands assisting and helping you to remove his shirt.

Frantically you threw your cardigan to the bathroom floor and began pulling your blouse over your head. Matt stepped out of his sweatpants before you–boxerless, to your wide eyed surprise. Fully undressed, his hard cock clearly impatient as well, he reached around the back of your skirt, his hands finding the zipper of it as you began unclasping your bra. You freed your breasts the moment Matt was bending low, tugging your skirt off. With his mouth beside your cunt, he abruptly slipped his tongue out and licked the length of it and you bit your lip at the sensation, whimpering quietly.

Standing back up with a smirk, he stepped around the pile of discarded clothes and switched on his shower, warming the water. Glancing over his shoulder at you, he whispered, "Come here."

Obediently you crossed the distance between you, Matt's hands landing on your neck and drawing you into him. Eyes closing, your hands landed on his solid chest before his mouth was on yours. You could feel his cock pressing against you eagerly, pre-cum dampening your skin beneath it. Feeling like you couldn't wait much longer for him to fuck you, you bit down on his lip, the action slightly timid and impatient.

Matt broke the kiss, his brows rising onto his forehead as he glanced down at you, that smirk still present on his lips–ones that were swollen and glistening with both of your saliva.

"Relax, sweetheart," Matt urged. "I'm about to take care of you."

He stepped into the shower, one of his hands grabbing your wrist and pulling you in behind him. The warm spray of the shower washed over your back as you turned, closing the glass door behind you. But as you turned back around, Matt reached out, placing a hand to your sternum, just above your breasts. With a gentle force he pushed you into the glass of the shower door. Your nipples almost instantly stiffened at the cold sensation of the glass along your back and your ass. Matt’s other hand slipped between your thighs, his two thick fingers dipping back inside of you without any further preamble.

Your eyes slowly closed, giving into Matt as you relaxed into the glass, your head slightly rolling back into the shower door, warm water falling over the pair of you. The hand he had on your sternum slid downwards, coming to cup your right breast. Your back arched into his touch, pushing your breast further into his large palm while he began kneading the soft flesh. Your hands flew out to grip his shoulders, holding on tight to him. You felt him step in closer towards you, the warmth of his body soon radiating onto yours.

Breath coming in hard pants, your eyes opened, taking in the sight of Matt before you. His hair was soaked and clinging to his face, water droplets falling down his forehead and his cheeks. His lips were slightly parted as his chest visibly heaved, clearly garnering pleasure from how your body was reacting to his touch and the way his fingers were still fucking you with an admirable dedication that had you crawling closer and closer to your release. As if he sensed you looking, his gaze traveled up from your chest to your chin.

“You’re so fucking close, aren’t you?” he whispered.

“Yes,” you answered him, voice so needy and unrecognizable. “Yes, Matt, yes.”

“Tell me what you want,” he murmured.

His hand released your breast and slid down to lightly brush along your clit. Your mouth opened hesitantly, uncertainty rolling over you, but a soft moan escaped your lips instead of words. His fingers continued to fuck you, but their pace began to slow as he awaited your response. Licking your lips nervously, you attempted to find your voice and ignore the nerves fluttering in your stomach. But the fingers of his left hand began rubbing with a firmer pressure along your clit and it felt so good you'd soon forgotten he'd even said anything. You moaned out louder, eyes half-lidded as your hips began to mindlessly buck forward into his hand, nails clawing into his shoulder roughly; fuck you just needed him and you needed that goddamn release he’d been teasing you with for the past hour.

“It’s just you and me, sweetheart,” he whispered, drawing you back. “No need to be nervous.”

Swallowing hard, your eyes opened and fell on Matt, nails still sunk into his broad, firm shoulders. His brows were pinched together, tongue slipping out to wet his lips as he focused solely on you.

Shyly, you uttered, “I want you to fuck me." But the words almost sounded more like a question after you said them.

Before you, Matt grit his teeth and a moment later his two fingers thrust themselves deep inside of you, hitting just the right spot. You gasped at the impact, nails helplessly grasping at him in response.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” he urged. “Don’t ask.”

Fueled by the way his fingers were making you feel as they slid almost entirely out of you before he thrust them forcefully into you a second time, you met his eyes. With all the burning need currently filling you, especially with your climax drawing nearer from the fingers he had vigorously working your clit, you firmly said, “Fuck me, Matthew.”

His lip curled back into something almost feral, a growl rumbling in his throat. His two fingers slid out of you instantly, both of his hands now landing on your hips. You cried out in sheer frustration at the abrupt loss of all pleasurable contact. You’d been so fucking close , and even though you wanted his cock, you were tired of being drawn so close to your climax to have it ripped away yet again.

“Fucking hell, Matthew,” you ground out between clenched teeth.

He chuckled softly, guiding you by the hips as he shifted you around the shower to the opposite side of it. He spun you towards the wall and your brow rose before you felt one of his large palms splayed between your shoulder blades. With that same gentle force he had used not too long ago, he pushed you into the wall of the shower. Your hands immediately flew up to steady yourself against the tile as you felt him reposition your hips before him for a better angle.

When you turned your head over your right shoulder, you bit your lip at the sight you found. He had his cock in his right hand, stroking it slowly, your eyes drawn to the movement and remembering how much you'd enjoyed that wonderful appendage in your mouth last week before you'd last had sex. While you'd been distracted with the sight of his beautiful cock, his left hand had found its way to your ass, smoothly running an appreciative hand around the curve of one cheek and then the other, stroking himself the entire time, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. His sightless gaze slid up towards your face, a devilish smirk tugging at his lips before his hand drew back. He threw it forward into your ass with a sharp smack that echoed in the shower and you gasped, your cunt throbbing in further anticipation. One of Matt's dark brows rose curiously, his head tilting to the side.

"You like that," he mused, his voice husky. "I'll have to remember that for another time."

"Matt," you whined, body feeling like it was past being pushed to its limit waiting for him to fuck you. " Please ."

“In that case,” Matt mumbled.

He grabbed his cock, no longer languidly stroking it while appreciating whatever he was picking up from your body, and teased the tip of it along your soaked entrance. You hissed in anticipatory pleasure–he’d been teasing you too goddamn long tonight and now, finally that beautiful cock was going to fill you and fuck you and nothing else mattered.

He slipped only partially inside and you both made similar noises of pleasure and relief at the contact. You felt the familiar fullness of him stretching you; he wasn’t wrong, he always had to wait a moment for you to fit him each and every time. Gradually you felt him sink inside of you deeper and you bit down on your tongue, back arching as your fingers gripped uselessly along the tile.

His hips rocked into you once and you moaned loud, eyes closing as your forehead dropped to the wet tile. Matt’s fingers tightened on your hips and you felt him slowly slide back before he thrust firmly forward into you again. Brows knitting together you grit your teeth, fingers attempting to grip the slick wall but there was nothing to grasp onto. You felt him slowly pull back again, your pulse quickening in anticipation.

“Is this what you wanted, sweetheart?” he asked.

You opened your mouth to answer, but his hips slammed back into you, his cock fully sheathed inside of you. A cry of pleasure filled the shower in answer to his question. As he slid back again, setting a steady pace with his hips as he fucked you, the front of his thick, muscular thighs slammed into the back of you with each thrust. One of his hands glided along your wet skin, making its way around your hips and down your stomach until his fingers found your clit. The oversensitive bud jolted at his touch and a string of curses fell out of your mouth. Bucking your hips backwards into him, you felt yourself climbing slowly back up to the edge of your long awaited climax. You heard the approving growl that rumbled out of him in response.

“Take what you need, sweetheart,” he urged.

Continuing to match his pace with your own hips, you greedily fucked your hips back into his. Turning your head over your right shoulder, you looked back to see Matt behind you again. His brows were drawn together, eyes pinched tight and almost closed as a look of sheer bliss was spread on his face. His mouth was open, spilling out grunts and pants just behind you as he fucked you.

“Fuck,” you hissed at the sight.

Feeling your climax gradually returning to just within reach, you felt Matt’s hips begin to viciously increase their pace, thrusting himself even deeper inside of you. His left hand’s grip tightened almost bruisingly onto your hip while his right continued to rub deliciously along that sensitive bundle of nerves. You were so close to fucking losing it.

“Matt,” you moaned, eyes still focused on the sight of him behind you.

His face turned up towards yours, brows rising just slightly in an unasked question. Hips grinding fiercely back into him, more whimpers fell out of you. As if he knew exactly what you needed, he readjusted himself behind you, the new angle allowing his cock to hit you just right. You could feel your cunt tightening around him, gripping his cock; a deep hum vibrated in Matt’s throat as his thrusts became sloppy and unrestrained.

And then you felt yourself on that razor-edge of your climax and your mouth fell open, eyes closing. “Harder, Matt,” you whispered.

Eager to comply, he abruptly slammed your front fully into the tiled wall of the shower, his cock now pounding fiercely into you. The moan began to build low in your belly, but as his relentless pace carried on, it clawed its way up out of your throat, your head falling sharply backwards over your shoulders as you cried out Matt’s name loudly in the shower. Your body was shaking as you came hard on his cock, Matt moaning a beautiful noise you vowed to get him to make again as your cunt squeezed him in return. His hips somehow increased their movements, your ass slamming over and over into him behind you, drawing you through your orgasm until he finally came. He released inside of you, cock twitching as the warmth of him filled you. He groaned deep as he came; the low, gravelly sound filled with pleasure, one that drew goosebumps along your forearms despite the warm spray from the shower overhead.

When he finally stilled, the two of you stayed like that for a moment–both of you breathing hard, his cock still inside of you with his hands on your hips and you pressed firmly into the shower wall. You tried to steady your heart and catch your breath, your vision blurred and your head feeling abnormally light. Matt’s forehead fell to your back, resting between your shoulder blades as you heard him heaving rapidly as well. After a moment, you swore you could feel him smiling along your skin. Rolling your head off of the wall, you glanced back at him.

“What?” you breathed out.

His head shifted on your back, sightless eyes landing on your chin. “I told you you weren’t going to cum until I fucked you against the tile of my shower,” he said, amused.

You huffed out a laugh, rolling your eyes in response. “That was cruel,” you murmured.

“Was it?” he asked, pulling a face that brought a smile to your own mouth. “You seemed to enjoy it.”

“Okay,” you relented, “you’re right, I did.”

He carefully slid his cock out from inside of you before gently turning you back around towards him. You steadied yourself with your hands on his shoulders, your eyes not failing to catch sight of the red marks from your nails along his skin. You frowned, one hand lightly brushing along the marks.

“Shit, I'm sorry Matt, I didn’t mean to claw you like an animal,” you apologized, wincing.

Matt smirked, one of his hands covering yours. “I really didn’t mind,” he told you. “I’ve certainly endured worse. And it was…kind of hot coming from someone who’s always so timid.”

Blushing, you glanced away from him. Instantly his hand cupped your cheek, drawing your attention back towards him.

“Hey,” he murmured, “don’t go hiding from me. I enjoyed all of that. And it seemed like you did, too.”

“Yeah,” you whispered.

Smiling, he pulled you towards him and wrapped his arms around you. You easily slipped your arms around him, happily returning the embrace.

“For the record,” Matt teased, “I was getting nervous you were actually going to have a heart attack on me with how fast your heart was hammering right before you came.”

You snorted out a laugh, burying your face in his shoulder. “Stop it,” you replied.

“No, really,” he continued, laughter in his tone. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone’s heart beat that fast before. You might’ve set a world record.”

Laughter rolled out of you, your face still buried into his shoulder. His body was shaking with laughter alongside yours, the two of you quickly falling into hysterics together under the spray of the shower.

And as tears drew at the corner of your eyes, glancing up at Matt’s carefree face, his laughter enveloping you, you felt those little three words sitting there on the tip of your tongue once again.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x fem reader #matt murdock series #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil x female reader #daredevil x reader #fftd

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telomeke · 20 days

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Get to Know Me Tag :)

I was tagged by @lamonnaie at this post here. Thanks for tagging me! 😍 It was such fun to read your responses; now here are mine. 🥰

do you make your bed?

Never ever. I'm pretty messy, and if I don't watch my hoarding tendencies I will morph into the worst pack rat. But I like a bit of clutter around me; I think it helps my creative side since my output (whether at work, or writing on Tumblr) is always tidy and tidied up to a fault, which can stifle creativity (at least that's what I tell myself! 🤣).

what's your favourite number?

Don't have one. However (even though I like to think I'm not superstitious) if I can I'll try to avoid the number 13 and anything with 4 in it...

what is your job?

Not gonna get too specific, but my work involves design, project management and construction.

if you could go back to school, would you?

I was too stressed out at school to want to repeat the experience. But I wouldn't mind a bit of time travel back to advise my younger self not to take things so seriously! 🤣

can you parallel park?

Yes. Not well, but the car will be fully in the lot eventually. 👍

a job you had that would surprise people?

Some minor modeling jobs when I was younger. Hush! I don't like to talk about it. 🤫 You wouldn't think it to look at me now (me 🤝 Ricky Gervais 😂).

do you think aliens are real?

There are too many planets out there for our little blue marble to be the only habitable one, so yes I do think there are aliens out there. I just don't think we've been visited by them yet though! (Aylin doesn't count. 🤩)

can you drive a manual car?

Yes. Mom taught me how to drive in one... until the day I jammed on the accelerator when she said "Step on it" and I almost up-ended us into a ditch. Then I was sent to driving school instead. 🤣

what's your guilty pleasure?

Ooh. It's this bad boy here:

Sadly I've been over-indulging, so chocolate is now banned from the house for the foreseeable future. I'm still lusting after it though. Other guilty pleasures: I do like a good nightcap, so any (gluten grain-free) alcohol makes me light up – cognac, cabernet, sherry, sake, port... (But I don't always know my limits, so this is now banned too.) And a steamin', stonkin', trashy BL every now and then (bonus if there's a nice muscley actor for me to get all googly-eyed over – shoutout Gap Jakarin!). 😁🥰

tattoos?

I like art and have fanboyed over beautiful tattoos before – but I'm put off by the permanence of them, so I have none myself. Don't like the idea of not being able to change them much once they're inked in, because I will always be wanting to change things up if I were to get one. And no, even for looking at I prefer an uninked bod over an inked one. It takes a lot of work to get a body in shape, and I can't understand someone wanting to cover up the results of their hard work at the gym. 🤷‍♂️

favorite color?

A deep, rich blue most of the time. But when the mood hits, I like a bright, bold red too.

favorite type of music?

My tastes are a bit eclectic, leaning lighter and not challenging. Anything with a strong melodic line will get me hooked. Bonus points if the lyrics can come together with the melody to tell a story, and elevate it even more. So – pop mostly, but I also like R&B, soul, light jazz and the odd heartfelt country ballad or foot-stomper (go Queen Bey! 😍). Also like things with a nostalgic bent (I melt at Karen Carpenter, Seals & Croft, and England Dan & John Ford Coley). And then throw in a couple of show tunes in there for good measure! My YouTube playlist is all over the place – Sheila Majid, New Country, Renaissance, Nunew, Miley Cyrus, Streisand, Li'l Nas X, Ayumu Imazu, The Carpenters, Clean Bandit, so many others, all side-by-side.

do you like puzzles?

I love them, especially word and logic puzzles. I'm always shouting over Pat and Vanna. 🤣

any phobias?

Oddly, not the usual suspects, but I'm a bit phobic about birds. They're just creepy up close, even though I find them fascinating and beautiful with a bit of distance. While the bog-standard creepy-crawlies don't bother me one bit – I'm the one always getting called in to whack the roaches and chase away rodents. I dream of getting a cobalt blue tarantula as a pet (but that's not going to happen for various reasons, alas).

favorite childhood sport?

I wasn't that sporty growing up (classic bookworm) but I did enjoy a bit of soccer when I got to play. But I guess my favorite was probably swimming, though I didn't compete.

do you talk to yourself?

All the time. There's a nonstop monologue going on in my head and I've been known to startle people by accidentally voicing that conversation out loud. So I've learnt not to do it around others. 🤣 And no I'm not hearing disembodied voices; it's just me keeping myself company (plus I find it helps me focus my thoughts).

what movies do you adore?

My all-time favorite: Cinema Paradiso; it really pulls unabashedly at the heartstrings, but then again I'm a sentimental fool and love it all the more for that. That's also why I like Love Actually, especially the scene where the repressed Jamie (Colin Firth) travels to Portugal in order to confess his feelings to Aurélia (Lúcia Moniz), having realized he loves her despite the language barrier, and doggedly learnt Portuguese just to make his declaration – and then he finds out that she, lovelorn and bereft, learnt English just in case ("just in cases") he came back. 💖 And my second favorite is from the other end of the spectrum, actually quite a bit before my time as well: Hello Dolly! 😆 Don't judge... A couple of songs in there are really amazing – Love is Only Love and Just Leave Everything to Me especially (which are not in the stage version) are mindblowingly good. The former is almost pithy in its bare-boned purity, all about looking at love without sentimentality while reprising themes heard earlier on in the musical; the latter has the among the cleverest lyrics set to music I've ever heard:

youtube

Streisand is in fine fettle portraying a campier, more youthful incarnation of Dolly. Such a shame it was not better received. The costumes are spectacular too.

coffee or tea?

Coffee (or rather the caffeine it contains) is my drug of choice, and I drink buckets of it. But I like a good cuppa when I'm feeling nostalgic and/or sentimental, because tea is what I drank a lot of growing up – at my gran's there would be a perpetually-replenished, giant kettle of dark, bitterish Oolong on the sideboard for whenever you felt like some (which was often), while at home there was always a big pot of tea on the table in the morning, that would then be set to chill in the refrigerator after breakfast. I would always have an ice-cold milk tea with the papers when I got home from school, and it was my favorite daily ritual.

first thing you wanted to be growing up?

A paleontologist – like a lot of kids I loved dinosaurs, and I can still rattle off the names of the more well-known ones (including every one in Jurassic Park 👀). But that got pushed aside for more practical considerations later. Still wish I'd explored my second childhood ambition more though, which was to be a writer/journalist. Maybe that's why I like posting so much on Tumblr! 😍

Onward tagging (too many people as usual, but no pressure to play if you don't want to or can't 🥰): @hughungrybear, @relativelydimensional, @neuroticbookworm, @wen-kexing-apologist, @waitmyturtles, @airenyah, @twig-tea, @solitaryandwandering, @recentadultburnout, @lurkingshan, @grapejuicegay,@bengiyo, @urikawa-miyuki, @pickletrip, @suni-san, @kattahj, @dimplesandfierceeyes, @7nessasaryevils, @imminentinertia, @befuddledcinnamonroll, @pandasmagorica, @nihilisticcondensedmilk,@shortpplfedup, @rokklagio, @thegalwhorants, @brazilian-whalien52, @callipigio, @respectthepetty, @corettaroosa, @colourme-feral, @virtualtadpole, @aroceu, @belladonna-and-the-sweetpeas, @delesaria-blog, @dribs-and-drabbles, @inventedfangirling, @jiirotu, @visualtaehyun @happypotato48,@akawrites000, @kleopatras-cat, @dc-alves, @toschistation, @lovelyghostv

I've been tagged by others in various tag games over the past few weeks but have been too busy with work to be able to play. 😭 Not gonna post half-assed replies if I can help it, but then I'm always beset by dread thinking people might assume I'm ignoring them for whatever silly reason. But I just haven't had the time until now.

If you've tagged me and I've not responded, please know that I really wanted to but I just kept getting sidetracked by urgent deadlines. (In fact, my drafts folder is full of half-written tag game responses that are too far beyond their use-by date to ever see the light of day. 😮) So to any and all who see this, please accept my apology for not replying to your tags and invites, and if you'd like to play along with this one even if I haven't tagged you directly (and you have the time for it) – please do so! I'd love to read your responses! 😍

#tag game #get to know me tag

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lightofleia · 2 years

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dauntless parties - peter hayes

hi!! here’s another peter hayes fic, which i’ve decided to post in full on tumblr instead of just linking to my ao3. also i’d like to remind everyone that i’m still taking requests!

Word Count: 3,324

Pairing: Peter Hayes x Reader

Description: Peter always comes to you when he’s hurt, tonight is no different. No War AU

Warnings: Very brief sexual references, blood, injury, mention of alcohol.

Music echoed throughout the infirmary, the only sign of the Dauntless party happening a level below, the one you were so unceremoniously disinvited to when you’d been called to work the night shift. It seemed to be taunting you, and as the hour grew darker, and the fluorescent lighting grew stronger, you could feel your own annoyance grow

You supposed you wouldn’t care much if you had any company, but all the beds were empty— Dauntless would rather die than miss a party, apparently— and the other nurses saw no reason to stay when you could clearly hold down the fort on your own. It was just typical, really, for them to do this. What kind of a job was a nurse for a Dauntless, anyways? Someone had to do it, but why you? Of course, you knew the answer; they couldn’t think of a better place to put an Abnegation transfer.

The thought made you groan, throwing down the book you’d been flipping through aimlessly. If they weren’t going to respect you, why should you respect them? There weren't even any patients there, there hardly ever were; no self-respecting Dauntless would be found in the infirmary unless they absolutely needed to be there, and, to their credit, they rarely did.

Besides, tonight was a party, the only people getting hurt were idiots. Idiots who probably didn’t even deserve your attention. Idiots who—

Banging at the door interrupted your internal rant, but before you could even see who was there, Peter came stumbling in, and suddenly you understood the purpose of you being here tonight. Idiots like him, of course.

You could tell the extent of his injuries from the way he smiled at you, goofier than Peter had ever mustered before, or had ever wanted to. Still, he wore that same smug look he always had, and seeing him so bold in such a vulnerable state left you with the urge to roll your eyes. Unfortunately, telling him off would have to wait, overwhelmed by your need to help him— whether that comes from your Abnegation roots or your medical training, you don’t know, but you can’t be bothered to think too deeply about it, especially now— and you find yourself rushing towards him to take a better look at the damage.

“I think I just need some rest,” He says, leaning heavily against the wall as if he intends to fall asleep where he stood.

“You need stitches,” You correct him, ignoring the way he winces as you poke at the gash above his eyebrow. “How did you even get that?”

“Fist fight turned into a knife fight,” Peter groans, allowing you to lead him to one of the beds. He sits on the edge, clutching his side. “Who brings a knife to a party?”

“You do,” You say with an amused sniff. You know fully well Peter is only playing dumb with you because he wants your sympathy, and because he doesn’t want to admit to losing a fight he probably initiated himself. If you knew him, which you did, the other guy was fairly cut up as well, but no one had as good a reason to make a trip to the infirmary than the boy in front of you.

“Just lay down,” You sigh, and he listens, though his pained expression shows it’s not with much ease. You begin to rummage through the cabinet for the supplies you need, watching him from the corner of your eye. It’s been such a long time since you first saw him this way, but the memory feels fresh.

You’d been in initiation together, fought each other even, though fighting you rarely seemed to earn him more than a scratch. Looking back, you figured that had been a good thing. You passed initiation, but not by much, and that kept you off Peter’s radar for the most part.

It had been a fight with Edward that left you caring for him that first time. He had too much pride to go to the actual infirmary, and so you found him tending to his own wounds in the bathroom, late at night.

“Tell anyone about this, and you’ll be dead,” He had said as you wrapped a bandage around his bruised knuckles. His words were so cold that even the memory of them made you shiver.

You knew you shouldn’t have helped him, but you really shouldn’t have continued to do so after Edward lost his eye just a few days later. Peter made no attempt to hide this side of himself from you, but still, it became a habit for you to tend to his injuries, to take care of him. It happened again and again, until his threats disappeared and were replaced with words you could almost call compliments. Even after initiation, he came to you for help. Soon, you realized he would only come to you. Something in you warmed at the thought.

You weren’t sure if you hated the way he made you feel, but you were sure you wanted to. Your wants, however, seemed futile in the wake of his presence, like your caring for him was a tsunami washing over you, swallowing you up.

Even now, as you return to him, he looks at you with his big, doe eyes, and you want nothing more than to punch him. You’re sure he knows what he’s doing (when doesn’t he?) but you don’t say a word.

You unscrew the lid to a bottle of pills the Erudite makes especially for Dauntless fighters, some magic cure-all that your father would probably claim kills brain cells. You hand feed a couple to Peter, to which he has no protest, and you can imagine the looks you’d get if you weren’t alone. The thought makes you laugh to yourself.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, blinking up at you through a swollen eye.

“Just you,” You say as you return the pills to their place in the cabinet and lock it. With a second glance at Peter, you realize the Erudite science has proved you useless again, and sigh as you put the needle and thread back too, opting for a bandage instead.

“I thought I was your favorite patient?” Peter asks, giving you his best puppy-dog eyes, but you only scoff.

“Maybe if you got hurt less than twice a week,” You say as you begin to apply ointment to the cut above his eyebrow. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, but doesn’t complain. If you had any less willpower, you might’ve apologized.

“So,” He says, his need to be a nuisance greater than any pain that could be inflicted on him, “What I’m hearing is you hate to see me hurt.”

“You always hear what you want to, don’t you? I hate to see anyone hurt,” You make sure to apply his bandage with a little more pressure than necessary. “It makes my job harder.”

“So cynical,” he tuts, shaking his head. “Have you ever heard of proper bedside manner?”

“Dauntless doesn’t care much about the patient's health, Peter,” You tell him, and he smiles. Of course, it’s that cruelty that made him so fit for Dauntless in the first place.

“Then how come you’re always so sweet to me?” He says sarcastically, and you frown, glaring at him. “When you’re not jabbing at me with a needle or wrapping my bandages too tight, that is.”

“Any jabbing or lack of blood flow is for your own good,” You say, though it’s a struggle not to laugh as you think of the times you’ve had to give him stitches, and how he’d look at the needle like it was a grenade. You were sure he’d rather be looking down the barrel of a gun.

“So you do care?” Peter grins so wide it looks like it must hurt.

“Only as much as I’m required to,” You stand up, making a move away from his side, but before you can take even a step further, he grabs your hand.

“Sit with me a while longer,” He says, pulling you back to where you were. You listen, as if you could even try and will yourself away, and you can tell by the cheeky look on his face that he takes some kind of pride in this.

The build between you had been so slow, you’re not sure either of you could pinpoint when you became aware of his hold on you. It seemed likely he’d known for far longer than you, maybe even since that first night on the bathroom floor. Peter was manipulative, he was cruel, you knew it as well as anyone else, it was completely reasonable to assume he’d been exploiting this little crush you had on him. The thought made you feel sick.

“Are you alright?” He asks, and though you can tell he’s trying to be nice, he still looks at you as if you’ve swallowed a bug. Maybe it’s a symptom of his injured state, or maybe it’s the years of fake niceties catching up with him. Either seems entirely possible.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You say, looking around the room for an excuse to leave his side, though his hand is still clasped firmly over yours, as if he can read your mind. “Maybe you should eat, any alcohol in your system will delay the healing process and food could—”

“I didn’t drink,” Peter interrupts you, and you eye him suspiciously. “Seriously! I don’t trust my drunk self at a Dauntless party, not after what happened last time.”

“I wouldn’t either,” You say, though you’re secretly glad for that reassurance. The few times you had seen Peter drunk made you cringe now, especially the times he found it appropriate to drape an arm around you, whispering incomprehensible innuendos in your ear as you smiled awkwardly at curious passersby and hoped none of your friends found you. Apparently he thought it was amusing to humiliate you, despite all you’d done for him, but you couldn’t be mad at him when any scolding you tried just left him grinning like an idiot. “You’re impossibly annoying when you’re drunk.”

“Really? I thought you liked me hanging off of you,” He sighs, as if disappointed. “Besides, you’re not much better.”

“What?” You ask, the shock so clear in your voice that he laughs.

“You don’t remember?” Peter looks at you with a smirk. “I guess I’m not surprised, you were pretty out of it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That party just a couple weeks ago, when the power went out?” You know what he’s talking about, or at least, you heard about it.

“I thought Christina took me home,” You say, though now that you thought about it, the night was too blurry for you to confirm that with yourself.

“Maybe,” he shrugs, “But you’d been dancing with me all night, and when I got back to my place, you were there waiting outside my door.”

“Oh god, we didn’t—?”

“No, no. I told you, I swore off drinking at parties months ago,” Peter shakes his head, and you breathe a sigh of relief. “I just took you home, stayed with you most of the night.”

“Really?” You ask, finding it hard to believe he’d ever do something like that.

“Well, it was free entertainment,” He says with that wicked look in his eye. “You tried to flirt with me for at least a couple hours. I didn’t know you were so persistent.”

You feel yourself go bright red, not able to imagine the things you must’ve said. You’re about to apologize when he stops you.

“I imagine I’m worse though,” He laughs, “With the way you look and all.”

You’re a bit taken aback by that, but he seems unfazed, as if what he’s said is completely normal. He looks at you the way he’s always looked at you, but his words still make your heart beat a little faster, no matter how casual he seems.

“It was nice, though, when you danced with me. It seems like you’re always avoiding me,” He says after we’ve been quiet for a moment. He doesn’t seem sad, or even angry, more just curious, or maybe amused. Like he’s satisfied with his reputation. “Is it because of your friends? Or because of me?”

“You’re not exactly nice to them.” Or me, You consider adding, but don’t.

“Why should I be nice to them?” Peter laughs as if the idea is ridiculous. “I don’t like them.”

“Oh please, you don’t like anyone,” The words taste bad in your mouth, but you know they’re true, and you rip your hand out of his grasp. This is his greatest talent, of course, getting people riled up. He seems to relish in it. “Not even your lackeys.”

“They’re idiots,” Peter says dismissively, and you can’t help but feel wounded. If he thinks of the people he calls friends as idiots, what could he possibly think of you? You must seem like a total pushover to him, and though you hate to care about his opinion, the thought hurts you deep in your core. You feel as if your stomach might turn inside out.

But before you can worry yourself to death, he says, “You're wrong, though.”

You lift your eyebrows and fold your arms across your chest, urging him to go on, but too afraid to open your mouth out of fear of what you might say. You don’t want to stoop to his level.

“I do like some people,” You watch intently as Peter places a hand on your thigh, much more innocently than you thought he was capable of. “I like you.”

When you open your mouth to speak, it’s as if your tongue has been cut out. Your mind is screaming at you to say something, anything, but you simply cannot. This feels as if it goes on for hours before Peter looks at you with the most obnoxious grin, and suddenly, your voice returns, as if your very being simply couldn’t allow him this win.

“Wipe that smug look off your face,” You snap, but he only laughs. “I’m serious.”

“I bet you are,” he says, and though you’d never take this from anyone else, you find yourself only minorly annoyed by Peter, again. Really, if he was anyone else, you probably would’ve killed him by now.

“I should’ve gone to that damn party,” You think back to your inconsiderate coworkers with a glare at the door. “Maybe you wouldn’t have ended up here.”

“I think I would’ve ended up in your apartment instead,” He says, almost wistfully. “Though, it’s not too late for any of that.”

With a glance to the clock on the wall, you see he’s right. It’s not even one yet.

The look he gives you, like always, leaves you wanting nothing more than to even have a clue as to what he’s thinking. At least now, you have a better guess.

“How about this,” Peter starts, a mischievous glint in his eye that leaves you more excited than it should. “I don’t tell your superiors you left your post, and you give me one dance.”

“Nothing explicit,” You add, and he rolls his eyes.

“Fine,” He says, “But you might not be able to resist.”

You groan in disgust, but as he stands you take his hand and allow him to lead you out of the infirmary.

—

It’s almost funny, the way you walk in together, with your arm looped around his. What’s even more odd is that Peter was the one to insist upon it, but you see its deeper purpose in the looks you receive. You can tell from the skip in his step that he loves the attention.

Despite the fact that you’re completely sober, something comparable to the effects of alcohol had seemed to wash over you in the time it took to walk from the infirmary to the Pit. The worries that have plagued you for months now don’t even cross your mind; the betrayal you took part in every time you helped Peter, your Abnegation background haunting you even past initiation, not even the unexplainable affection you felt towards the boy next to you could weigh on your thoughts now. The music is too loud, the lights are too strong, and Peter is standing too close.

“Peter, what are you doing back here?” An angry voice calls from behind Peter, and, in just a moment, you’re whipped around along with him, face to face with Tris. She looks angry, to say the least, but with Peter’s presence that’s a given. When she sees you, though, her expression becomes unreadable.

“I got fixed up,” He says, gesturing to you, a wide grin spread over his face. You realize Tris is injured too, though far less than Peter is, and it becomes apparent she’s the one he’d fought with. “Figured I better come back with a date, too.”

“I thought you were working tonight,” Tris says, completely ignoring Peter.

“I was,” You admit, “But I couldn’t let him back out here unsupervised.”

“We always end up together at the end of the night anyways,” Peter says, prompting you to jab your elbow into his side.

Tris eyes you up and down, staring at you as if Peter isn’t even there. At first, you worry she’s giving you some kind of death glare, but you quickly realize she’s deciding whether or not to leave you with Peter.

“We’ll see you later, Tris,” You say finally, not giving her any time to reply before you’ve tugged

Peter away from her. A second longer and they might’ve been at it again, and you aren’t gonna end the night without the dance you’d promised Peter.

“So eager,” He says, whisper-shouting in your ear once you’ve read the center of the crowd. All around you are people dancing. or fighting. though some of it is hard to tell apart.

You roll your eyes at him, but don’t make any protest when he pulls you in close. You take cues from the rest of the crowd when it comes to dancing, your heartbeat too loud in your ears to be able to properly hear the music.

This isn’t the soft, romantic dancing you’d heard of Amity couples doing, Dauntless would never allow a slow enough song for that, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, and you can tell Peter feels the same. He keeps you pressed to him so tightly you’re afraid you might melt into one person. You’d expect the sweat between the two of you to make you at least a little bit uncomfortable, but instead it has you excited, so completely aware of every sense despite the fact that all of them are being overwhelmed.

At some point, you find yourselves in the center of a very rowdy group. It doesn’t bother you, really, but you can tell from the scowl on his face that you’re a few seconds away from losing his attention completely.

You place your hand under his chin and turn his head so his eyes are back on you. His gaze softens, though not in the same way it does for strangers and unsuspecting victims. You’re almost sure you’ve got that difference down now, or at least you’d like to think that you would after all the time you’ve spent with him.

“We should get out of here,” Peter says, though you have to read his lips a little to understand him.

“I think you’re right,” You agree, allowing him to tug you away from the Pit entirely.

You suppose you don’t realize where he’s leading you until you’re at his door, but another part of you was sure where the two of you were headed. Either way, you know you aren’t mad about it.

You are, however, surprised when he holds open the door for you.

#peter hayes x reader #peter hayes #divergent fanfiction #divergent #tris prior #insurgent #allegiant #veronica roth

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dreamingofyeo · 4 months

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𓏲๋࣭ ࣪ A siren's song࿐࿔𖦹ִ

Chapter 1 : Tempted fate ࿐࿔𖦹ִ

~ details in masterlist

~ playlist

~ 989 words

~ chapter warnings: implication/reference to sa, sexism, mild gore

~☆彡 tumblr's algorithm works off of reblogs so please consider it if you like my work :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“My heart is pierced by cupid, I disdain all glittering gold, there is nothing can console me, but my jolly sailor bold..” The lyrics trail away from your lips, taking to humming the calm melody instead resting your arms on the wooden railing before you. The sea breeze combs its cold fingers through your hair, sending it slightly floating behind you.

“Shouldn’t be doin’ that missy, brings bad luck.”

The raspy voice sounds from behind you, you don’t turn to face it. The crew member walks over to you and leans over the railing himself.

“This crew believes my being here on this voyage to be bad luck enough, it can’t hurt” you say under your breath, neither expecting nor wanting an answer.

“Don’t tempt fate, it’s unwise on the most welcoming of seas.” He gives you a long glance before walking back to whatever he’d been tending to on the deck.

You lay awake that night, restless. Sleep is evading you.

You were brought upon this voyage to visit your relatives, across the sea. The journey should only take a few days, but that feels too long on this ship. These relatives are people you have not yet had the pleasure of meeting, but as relations to your late mother, it is customary that your father would bring you with him to deliver the news in person, and possibly return with them for the funeral. From the little knowledge you had of them, they weren’t the most pleasant of folk, furthering your reluctance to the journey, as if the crew’s opinion of your being here be not enough of a reason to detest every moment on the vessel. You desire to be on land, mourning in the comfort of your family home, not here.

The sound of movement on the deck and various loud noises furthers your annoyance. It’s well past 3am right now, and they’re causing a ruckus?

Wishing more than ever for sleep to take you, you roll from your back to your side and bring the end of the pillow to your uncovered ear; only to throw it back and sit bolt upright at the sound of the first gunshot.

And then a second, and then the sounds of swords join the harrowing mix of screams and shouts.

You dress yourself as quickly and efficiently as you can, there is no telling what is happening, but if you get dragged into it you’re sure as hell not being- or dying- in your nightdress. You fasten a dagger under the ruffles of your dress, it can’t hurt to be too prepared.

You silently thank yourself for the intuition to do so as your door slams open against the planked wall of your room. A disgusting face illuminated by the lantern at your bedside, a devilish grin spreads to his lips, exposing his yellowed, crooked teeth.

“Come here miss, and it won’t get ugly.” He snides, tilting his head to the side, eyeing your figure.

Frankly, you’re terrified. You’re safer out there than in your room alone with this man though, so you take the hint and walk towards him.

One foot in front of the other. Turn off your mind. Don’t think, don’t feel. Just walk.

As you reach him, he wraps a calloused filthy hand around your arm, the grime dirtying the fabric sleeving it. He drags you through the walkway and onto the deck.

The sight that greets you chills you to your very soul. The crew slaughtered, your father on his knees before a man with his back to you. The dark figure wears a long frayed coat, cutlas sticking through one of the gaps. An exuberant hat atop his head, matted long hair sticking out from beneath it in an unkempt fashion. Pirate captain.

The man gripping your arm speaks up, you try your best not to jump at the sudden noise.

“Captain, found this pretty thing back there, what’s your call?”

The captain turns around, the lanterns hanging on the deck showing you his scarred features despite the mist snaking across the deck.

“Ah you have, have you, Broner? From the looks of it, the little mouse is your daughter, is she not? Considering the look on your face, that is. Hmm, unless she’s yours. In which case, I should rather say bravo.” He laughs at your father grimly, the members of his crew making themselves known in the darkness by matching his laughter.

He steps to the side and you see your father. Though eyes are enraged, his body is broken. He is fading from the world. A choked sob escapes you.

“Father…”

“Ah so it is the primary assumption, all the better, you’re unspoiled.” He turns on his heel to you with an evil smirk.

“Don’t, don’t touch her.” Your father rasps out, his pain is punctuated by a weak cough spraying blood across the captains boots.

The captain chuckles lightly, squatting down to eye level with your father, you struggle against Broner’s grasp. He holds you firm, digging his jagged nails into your arm, you bite back the wince.

“Those are my favourite boots.”

He pulls out a pistol and fires it straight through your father.

The scream that is pulled from you could move mountains.

The captain stands, wiping your father’s bloody spray from his face, and turns to you.

“Take her aboard. She is to remain unspoiled, do not disrupt our plans.”

It’s then that you register the ship to your right. A blood red sail billowing from its mast. You know this ship. You’ve heard the stories. Its the Crimson. That captain is none other than Vervona. He’s said to be half mad, a man who sold his very soul to the devil. As evil and deranged as they come.

Maybe the crew member you didn’t even care to learn the name of earlier was right. You really should not have tempted fate on these waters.

<- Prologue ~ chapter 2 ->

*prologue is important please read it :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @amalialoved

#ateez fanfic #ateez hongjoong #ateez jongho #ateez mingi #ateez san #ateez seonghwa #ateez wooyoung #ateez yeosang #ateez yunho #ateez x reader #ateez pirate au #ateez series #yeosang pirate au #yeosang x reader

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fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic · 5 months

Text

Good Omens Fic Rec: Omens On Baker Street (Good Omens/BBC Sherlock Crossover Series)

The Ineffable Game Sherlock and John are no longer the only crime-solving disaster duo in London. After Sherlock unknowingly wrongs a demon, he finds himself with two mysterious rivals in the detective scene. For Crowley and Aziraphale, it's just a bit of fun, but they end up learning more about human nature than they bargained for. London Falling It’s time to start reconnecting. It's been a long time since John and Sherlock first came face-to-face with the supernatural. Crowley and Aziraphale now spend their days bickering in the South Downs instead of London. Life seemed to be getting back to normal... Unfortunately, 'normal' is only a relative term. Welcome Home Tulip arrives in the South Downs, and finds that starting a new life isn’t as easy as she first thought. Luckily, she now has a family to fall back on.

Length: 155,306 words (full series)

AO3 Rating: Not Rated (but basically PG13)

Best for: Pick-Me-Up, Safe in Public, Comedy

Triggers: Brief Violence

Read it here, series by WorseOmens

Personal Rant: I've been ignoring this one for months. I'm sure I'll bring it up plenty, but BBC Sherlock was my life 10 years ago. Reviewing fics on fuckyeahjohnlockfanfic was such a joy and I have so much fondness and nostalgia for that part of my past. Good Omens is the first time I've engaged in fandom at all since then. I was betrayed by Season 4, I had lost my love for fan spaces, tumblr was emptying. I moved on. But the day I finished Good Omens season two I dived headfirst back into this world. It's been nonstop every day since then for me. I started reading 2-3 fics a DAY again. I kept thinking how insane it would be to start reviewing again. But this series? Idk, I didn't think I wanted to engage with Sherlock again. I thought it'd be too weird, maybe too cringe to indulge in something I thought I "grew out" of. But since I've been working on this new review blog I thought it was time. And oh my god I can't tell you how good this felt. I feel like my Moffat induced heartbreak is starting to heal. So enough about me, let's talk about this series.

*Minor Spoilers* I'll let you guys find out for yourselves just how it happens, but let's say eventually Sherlock and John team up with Aziraphale and Crowley. The first series is set just after the Apocalypse-that-wasn't, and in Sherlock canon in between S1 and S2. The second installment is set post S4 of Sherlock. I am overwhelmed by how much I enjoyed this series. I had assumed I knew how this would go. I thought it was going to be a predictable checklist of crossover tropes. My eyes were practically rolling before I gave this a chance. I wanted to hate it, maybe to prove that I was totally over my past love of Sherlock. But its good. It's entertaining, it's surprising, it's funny, it makes sense.

This is mostly a Good Omens story. If you were never that into Sherlock you'll mostly be able to follow along fine, but I'm not sure the opposite is true. Crowley and Aziraphale are sickeningly in love, and I ate it up. Their relationship is established by the time this starts, but it's been maybe a year (?) since the Notcalypse. John and Sherlock are firmly in their canon of "I'm not his date". I can't spoil it for you, you'll have to see yourself, but how John reacts to Aziraphale just took me out. I was shocked. I had to walk around for a bit. It was unexpected, bold, I wanted to hate it and I loved it. It shouldn't have made sense! Moving on before I spoil...I just can't believe that this series took all the assumptions I had about the rapport between all of them and just chucked them out. Characterizations are all amazing, though I feel Sherlock's presence was a little quiet at times. I feel like he should have noticed more was off sooner than he does. But that can all be explained by supernatural interference so I don't really care too much. This plays with Sherlock canon in such a way that's just like, oh totally that actually makes perfect sense. And it's so smart to skip over past plot lines that it knows we're familiar with. We don't need to go over scenes we all have ingrained in our memories, let's enjoy the story happening right now. And it handles S4 so well. The thing that ruined Sherlock for a lot of people. It's not waved away, but just moved on from and brings Rosie into the second series.

I could spend days in this combined universe. I love the banter between Crowley and Aziraphale. They’re also very Gomez and Morticia here. Very secure in their relationship and madly in love. Extremely possessive Crowley, so expect some fun moments with that. Protective of each other, but also have complete trust in the other’s ability. I love their clumsy half hearted attempts at being human and that it completely goes over everyone's heads. Come on Sherlock! Cosmo and Wanda aint slick!! It's fun and silly. It's the kind of fanfic that makes your cheeks hurt from smiling too much. But it's not shallow. It has some excellent insight. Even though Sherlock and John are not the stars here, they still get their moments to shine. In the second installment there is a line about their bond being foraged not in the danger of their lives but in the quiet and gentle in-between and I wanted to cry. It was so healing for my broken Johnlock heart.

This post is much too long already. If you are a fan of both series, just do me a solid and read it. I just know you'll like it. Embrace the silly, warm your heart with the rest, and enjoy it. It's completely safe for public, but it was incredibly annoying to have to keep walking away from it. My next read will be at home, and very soon.

Read it here, series by WorseOmens

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anitalenia · 10 months

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hiii i was wondering how you get ur post texts to be pastel pink :) instead of this hot pink

Hiii 💕💕 okay so it actually has to do with coding 😭 I’ll try my best to explain. So basically, I go to this website ( https://jsfiddle.net ), this is where you can make any color text you want.

— STEPS BELOW —

Step One: So, once you’re there you’ll see this screen, I’m on mobile so it might look a lil different.

Step Two: Once there, you’ll go to the right side where the text boxes are.

Step Three: In the top box, you’ll want to type in whatever text you want to make a different color.

Step Four: Next, where the red and green color dots are, click on the red dot. This is going to be where the color starts. You can make the text whatever color you want.

note: you can make your text gradient, as in two different colors. I make my text just one color ( that pale pink color ), which means both the red and green dot must be the same color. For gradient, the red and green need to be whatever two colors you want to make gradient. For example, if you wanted to do yellow and purple gradient text, change the red to the color yellow and the green to the color purple.

*FFE5FA is the color of my pink text.

Step Five: After you’ve changed the color, hit the run button in between the text boxes.

Step Six: Once you’ve hit run, the text box below will generate the coding for your colored text.

Step Seven: Once it’s there, you’ll want to click on it and hit the ‘select all’ button.

note: I am using this on an iPhone, so it may very on a Samsung or computer. Just make sure you copy the whole thing of code

Step Eight: Once you’ve hit select all, hit the copy button

Step Nine: So now the text should be copied to clipboard and available to past where ever you want. After that, and this is an important detail or else it won’t work, you have to go to Tumblr Online, not the app.

Step Ten: Once you’re on tumblr, go to make a new post.

Step Eleven: Once you make the next post, you’ll want to go to the top right corner and click on the settings icon

Step Twelve: You should see a screen like the one below. At the bottom of that pop up where it says TEXT EDITOR, the icon next to it should say Rich Text.

Step Thirteen: Click on the Rich Text box, and options should pop up saying, Rich Text, HTML, Markdown

Step Fourteen: Click the HTML option

Step Fifteen: You should see this screen next

Step Sixteen: You’ll want to paste the HTML code you just copied next to or after the code already there like this

Step Seventeen: Okay then you’ll want to make sure it’s saved as a draft

note: if you go to your drafts first and then create a new post, then it should automatically have the save as draft option at the bottom. It’s quicker than doing it like normal and having to select save as draft.

Step Eighteen: It should look like this now

Step Nineteen: Congratulations! You’ve done the hard part. Now go back to mobile or the app because it’s easier for these next steps in my opinion.

Step Twenty: In the app, go to that saved draft and make the text bold if you so choose, it makes it stand out more that way

Extras: you only need to make one colored text when you make a post, which means you don’t need to go through that whole process for each line/word you want to make colored.

— just type whatever words you want colored next to the already colored text, then move it down a space.

— however, once you delete that line of colored text it cannot be recovered, you’d have to go through this process again.

ANYWAY, I hope this helped. I tried to make it as step-by-step as possible. 😁😁💕💕

#─ ·˚꒰ 𝙍𝙀𝙋𝙇𝙄𝙀𝙎. ꒱ ₊˚ˑ #pink themes #aesthetic #pink #pinkcore #pink dividers #cute #sparkles #stars #writing prompt #writing help #colored text #text help #gradient #gradient text help #gradient text

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utilitycaster · 11 months

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oh PLEASE elaborate on your thoughts about why people say Brenann's hogging the spotlight after you're back from work 👀

This is actually a very long answer, because morning me is someone with the bright sun shining behind her and a full cup or four of coffee who does not think of the consequences of her actions, so it's below a cut.

I think the first reason is something best described as cultural but in a very specific way. Like...the bulk of actual players we talk about are people who have, just by default, spent a lot of time in a handful of cities in the US where there's a significant entertainment industry presence, and for D20 they've specifically been comedians. I say this to set a particular scene: I almost never get it when people think the cast of an actual play show is angry at each other, or that people are being too pushy or that the humor is off. I suspect this might be cultural; I am from the urban Northeastern US and my mom grew up in Los Angeles and I have three siblings, and so a lot of what people clock as aggression or unkindness reads to me as simply banter or straightforwardness or decisiveness, all of which I see as very positive things. I mean obviously there is a such thing as inappropriate humor, bigotry and jokes at the expense of other groups and so forth, but most of what I see in actual play I watch/listen to is just, as NADDPod puts it, taking your friends to the raspberry patch. It's good-humored teasing. Anyway I think Brennan is very willing to engage with that banter and that decisiveness (and like, he spent a lot of formative time in New York City which I'm sure is an influence) and I think that reads to people who are uncomfortable with it as aggression.

Someone who took more linguistic anthropology or sociology than I could probably explain this better but it's just like...as a person I find the rapid-fire and heated but good natured heckling on D20, or Sam's satirical ad reads, or bold moves in any D&D game, or the arguments on NADDPod D&D court to be very normal and enjoyable, and I find hesitation and hedging and uncertainty and "are you sure?" and endless check-ins to be very negative and anxiety-inducing and draining.

With that said I don't think Brennan is particularly egregious (Evan Kelmp is the one case where I think this is a valid criticism, but even then I didn't find him an ungenerous player, merely one who by design was going to occupy a certain position) so I think that brings me to the really delicate part of this conversation.

I've mentioned this in the past but I think a lot of the actual play fandom on Tumblr suffers pretty severely from what's been labeled "the soft bigotry of low expectations." I've been vocal quite specifically when it comes to misogyny and how the agency of the women of the cast is treated as true only when convenient, because I feel that as a woman I'm able to actually speak on those terms, but I think it's true across the board. Essentially, this means that the bar is (often unconsciously) set lower, or people overly applaud, to a perhaps even condescending degree, people from minority or underrepresented groups. It is not, to be clear, having DEI programs or helping people be in something (in this case...popular actual play) in the first place and acknowledging structural inequalities that might make the path more difficult; it's instead assuming that once they get there they'll never be quite as good, or being surprised when they are. I think the most classic example is the overuse of the word "eloquent" to describe Black speakers, as it often comes with this connotation that being well-spoken is something the person providing the compliment didn't expect. You know, if you're an adult with no significant cognitive or physical disabilities and someone compliments you for tying your shoes, it's pretty fucking insulting. That's what we're talking about here.

The way this manifests in the fandom is that there's really no room to provide criticisms that are not motivated by bigotry. I'm a critic by nature, and there's a general veneer of obnoxious insistence on positivity across the board in this and many fandoms, but, as I've said many times before (and to be fair it's getting better) the pushback people receive for completely valid criticisms of Marisha is intense. I've mentioned that I've had issues with story pacing for Brennan, Matt, and Aabria as DMs at different points, and the backlash for Aabria was the strongest even though the criticism was by no means the harshest. There is a certain degree of nonstop fawning that at times occurs that doesn't actually permit engaging with characters or discussing the actual strengths of the actors, and which often wraps around into something insulting; see the "Emily, breaker of DMs" nonsense that's finally getting called out. Because it's not a compliment! Part of why Emily is such a good player is that she is immensely collaborative and makes characters who will help with party composition, and she self-identifies as a big fan of DMs, and treating her (or like, anyone) as a perfect force of nature rather than a thinking person who makes decisions, some of which are good and some of which are bad, is not praise! It's not praise to exclude someone from valid criticism; it's treating them as lesser, to do so.

For a number of reasons I am a person who is not generally stopped by this, but a lot of people understandably aren't, or are deterred even by that more general need for nothing but praise...except constant praise starts to become meaningless, and more importantly, people sometimes have negative feelings about a show! Maybe a character they liked died, or their predictions didn't come true, or their ship didn't happen, or they're just not very interested in a specific plot. But it's impossible to actually pick apart what isn't working for them, because there's this environment where, if you start asking questions, the answer might be "I don't like the choice a player who is a woman, or nonwhite, or queer, made, and how it weighs upon the story." And so, and this is where I am treading so lightly, I don't think the issue in the fandom or TTRPG is "oh the poor straight white men in D&D", because that's obviously fucking ridiculous, but I do think that if you block off any criticism of anyone else, it lands somewhere, and it's often not actually justified.

The example I actually have in mind more often is Sam Riegel. I've made some pretty harsh criticism of Sam and some of his characters in the past, but it has always been very much about his choices. But every single time I've gotten some weird (and uh...very uncomfortable, frankly) venting about Sam's sense of humor. I have never really focused on his sense of humor as the problem. I like it. I find it extremely relatable. At the risk of using the bigotry script again, Sam is, in fact, of the same ethnicity and region of the US as I am (ie, northeast US Ashkenazi Jewish) and when people act like his humor is discomfiting it's like a neon sign that to me reads "I HAVE NEVER MET SOMEONE FROM YOUR CULTURE," which on the one hand, not necessarily their fault, but on the other, does not feel great to have someone on anon venting to you while this sign is staring you in the face.

But that is a different point - my point is that I feel like there's this...seething magma of discontent sometimes, that has built up because there is an attitude that criticism is to be avoided at nearly all costs. And when it must be vented, there are only a small handful of acceptable targets (ie, the cis straight white men, although among the CR and D20 casts, Taliesin and Zac both get a decent amount of this despite Taliesin not being straight and Zac not being white), so the criticisms that come out are often excessive for the infraction (Brennan, a famously wordy guy playing a literal college of eloquence bard, turns into "Brennan is a spotlight hog" despite him being a player who is enthusiastically yes-anding everyone at the table), flat-out misdirected (my criticisms of Sam's mechanics are treated as an invitation to talk about a dislike of Sam's jokes) or just straight up bile (I am quite frankly never forgetting the somehow popular post that said Travis was too stupid to play a druid; it really was a breaking point where I said oh this positivity is all fake as hell, huh.) And eventually these criticisms become the "safe" and "accepted" ones in the fandom. Which is also bad because like, at this point, those three examples are to me just signals of someone saying "I'm not happy but it might not necessarily be at all related to this." And it is possible that someone might genuinely not enjoy Sam's sense of humor, or think Brennan is hogging the spotlight (though I disagree), but I struggle to believe them because these are just the well-worn codes, devoid of their actual meaning. I also think it's notable these all squarely blame people and not just like, "I don't vibe with this choice and no one is specifically at fault" but that's also a whole other post.

This is of course not to say that there isn't also actual bigotry within the fandom; looking at that person who freaked out about Utkarsh wearing a sweatshirt and not having an encyclopedic knowledge of the divine soul sorcerer class, or the person who called Deni$e unpleasant and abusive in the main tag, rather than simply saying their characters were not for them. Nor does it mean that you can't have criticisms of Brennan, or any of the many white guys in Actual Play, because my point is that thoughtful criticism based on what's onscreen is what I live for, and no one is exempt. But I think most if not all people saying this about Brennan are mad about something else in the Ravening War.

#answered #Anonymous #long post #cr tag

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