#it&039

[veryberryjelly]

fidget

felix catton x fem!reader

cw : none, no mention of y/n.

𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

saltburn was your favourite place to be.

you had been spending your summers there since you were 14 and you met felix at school.

at 16 felix decided to kiss you by the lake and you had been inseparable since then.

even at oxford, it was very rare that you'd spend a night alone, either sleeping in felix's dorm or having him over at yours.

your summers at the house were always enjoyable, unless god forbid you fell unwell over the time you stayed there.

and unfortunately, that had happened this year.

you were curled up in your bed, curtains drawn as the burning sun heated up the entire room.

even with the warmth from the sun, the hot water bottle on your stomach and the duvet over your body, you were still shivering.

of course your period had to come on the hottest day of the year, when you would be constantly taking off your covers and putting them back on moments later.

your eyes were clenched shut as you willed yourself to fall asleep so you could wake up and be rid of your devilish cramps.

but of course, that was not what god had in store for you as your boyfriend burst into your room.

" mornin' sweetheart " he said, making his way over to your bed where he sat down , his hand lifting to brush some hair from your face. " what're you doing sleeping in here? i was waiting for you last night "

while you would normally relish in the feeling of felix playing with your hair, right now everything was sensitive and you couldnt take it.

" you were asleep when i came in, didnt want to wake you " you muttered, clearly lying through your teeth as you lifted your hand to move his off of your face, instead choosing to loop your little finger through his.

that was about much touch as you could handle at the moment.

felix was not having that as the reason. you knew he didnt care if you woke him up, as long as he woke up to you in his arms. it was then that he noticed the furrow in your brow and the lick of sweat over your forehead.

" what's up, sweetness? you dont look so good " he said, shifting a little closer to you, his leg lifting up onto the bed so you couldnt avoid this conversation.

you were hesitant, never having discussed this with felix before as there wasnt ever a need to, but the soft movement of him sliding his hand into your practically made you melt.

" i got my period last night, didnt want to stain your sheets or keep you up with my fidgeting " whenever you got cramps it was impossible to get comfortable. no position was good enough to ease the storm in your uterus.

" so you deprived me of your cuddles last night because you didnt want to ruin my sheets? " he asked, his brow raising incredulously.

" didn't think you'd want to deal with my fidgeting either. " you admitted, clutching your hot water bottle a little tighter.

" oh, baby, i don't care. i want to be there for you when you're not feeling good. " he explained, shifting on the bed again so he was sat up agains the headboard. " now because you robbed me of your company last night, you have no choice in letting me take care of you now. " he said with a soft smile.

" you don't have to do that, lex- "

you were swiftly cut off by felix " i dont have to, but i want to. i'm going to get you something to drink, then how would you feel about a bath ?"

you had to admit that sounded amazing, being engulfed in warm water for a little while.

" that sounds really nice " you agreed, lifting your head slightly to rest against his leg, still clad in his pyjama pants. " but dont leave yet "

your final word caused a soft laugh to come from his lips, his hand lifting to rest on your back, the other still clutched in yours.

" okay, we can stay here a while "

[vortexbatt]

My designs/style for SCPs! <3

[mikufunfacts]

Is Miku a memetic hazard? Has the SCP Foundation made a statement about Hatsune Miku? Are the amnestics ready?

miku fun fact #232

if miku were a memetic hazard, which we are not saying she is, she would not be stupid enough to get caught and/or documented enough for a statement to be written about her. the amnestics are ready, though.

object class: apollyon (world is hers)

[httyd-art-requests]

Can u draw tuffnuts chicken ?

This is one of the newest asks but I think we can all see why I wanted to do this one immediately. Of course I can draw Chicken for you anon

Dragon (?) #39 - Chicken

They're a package deal though, can't have one without the other <3

[blerdyotome]

Indie Games You Should be Playing from the Storyteller's Festival 2024

The Storyteller’s Festival is in full swing on Steam and there are a ton of amazing indie games, sales, and announcements from this year’s showcase. For those of you out of the loop, The Storyteller’s Festival is a digital event hosted by indie developer, Two and a Half Studios that spotlights a wide range of indie visual novels and narrative games! The festival runs from January 29th to…

[every-kakashi]

[myfckingnameisnuwanda]

"Are you a ghost?" NOOO 😭😭😭

Masterpost

<- 038: Lost and Found - 040: Human Remains ->

<-<- 001: Angler Fish

[david-goldrock]

I am happy to announce, that my last medical checkup results are in, and I am in complete remission of Crohn's disease

[kamurocho-confessional]

"They need to bring crow feet back why the fuck do Kiryu and Majima look younger on 7 than they looked back in 3??

Just look at Kashiwagi and Adachi...... we need old men looking like hags"

[mediamatinees]

Dark Romance Community, We Need to Talk About "Haunting Adeline"

This is perhaps my most controversial piece yet, though it really shouldn't be. Today we're talking about dark romance, its potential, and its flaws. Find your happy place, because today's discussion is about The Cat and Mouse Duet.

“He keeps his hands to himself for now, but I know that won’t last much longer. It’s no secret how much he loves to touch me without my permission.” –       Haunting Adeline, H.D. Carlton Extreme Content Warning: Haunting Adeline and Hunting Adeline (also known as The Cat and Mouse duet) contain graphic depictions of sexual assault, graphic violence, stalking, child abuse and murder, the…

[kinialohaguy]

J6 Inquisition

Aloha kākou. A video released today by the Republican led Oversight Committee shows Nazi Piglosi admitting responsibility for not having security ready at the Capital on January 6th, 2021. We know that Pelosi’s daughter was documenting the events on January 6th. Almost as if the riot was preplanned by Pelosi, the FBI, and Capitol Police who instigated the violence. Since that day, the Marxist…

[veryberryjelly]

bookshop and cafe date with jason todd &lt;3

𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

someone headcanoned that jacob elordi is jason todd and i can't get it out of my head .!!.

models in this moodpboard are not any depiction of s/o, just the aesthetic of the photos

[lgbtqreads]

Happy LGBT History Month!

Happy LGBT History Month! We are, of course, celebrating as we celebrate everything over here – with books! Specifically, with both fiction and nonfiction that pay tribute to LGBT history. Fiction Like a Love Story by Abdi Nazemian It’s 1989 in New York City, and for three teens, the world is changing. Reza is an Iranian boy who has just moved to the city with his mother to live with his…

[dailylagomorphs]

08/02/2023

[grapejuicestyless]

can you do a conrad fic based on sad, beautiful, tragic by t.s.?

Sad, Beautiful, Tragic.

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Summery: Y/n is young, naive but not stupid. Conrad had made one too many empty promises for even her to continue believing.

My feet stood cemented on the pavement, stuck to the grounds that lingered in deadly details of him, but never us. Not now, not ever.

I felt like an idiot, showing up now, so late. A random autumn night in Boston. The streets in the city still bustling with life, longing for the scents of pumpkin spice and apple cider. The further into the suburbs you drove, the quieter it grew. The trees became plentiful, black streets becoming canvases of orange and yellow.

We weren’t right. It was obvious. Laurel reprimanded me for this, my great attempts to salvage what little we had left between us. A dwindling flame, a broken glass spilling wine across a pearl white table cloth. She called me a fool, too blinded by what I wanted to work so badly in my head that I refused what was being presented right in front of me.

His snide remarks with his school friends, all much smarter than I. They knew it. I was never a prodigy, a prospect, gifted. Each dig was minor, easily brushed away like dust on the pages of a forgotten story page. But Conrad always had a way with his words, a tongue that made even the kindest comments come out like daggers. Backhanded and cruel, aimed at the naive.

Gullible was never written on the ceiling yet each time he smiled and pointed I looked. I was a scarlet thread, wrapped tightly around his thumb.

When the door opened, Susannah greeted me with a sad smile. Her eyes spoke a thousand sentences, pleading for me to leave, walk away while I still could. But Conrad had promised, promised that if I just gave him one more chance it would be different.

And I believed him. I believed him because when I met him, he was a good man. Shy, sweet, observant. He was charming, and god he was always handsome. The Conrad I fell for never lied to me. If we disagreed, it was quickly resolved.

Now it seemed like each phone call was just another nail in the coffin. Another reason flying by, red flags blowing in the wind begging me to follow, to leave. It was walking on eggshells, fragile. I was clumsy and they broke. I sit alone in my room sometimes, phone beeping to its death, hanging off my shoulder and I forget. I forget all the reasons I am fighting, what I am fighting for.

But then he comes back, just like he always does. A vicious cycle. He throws daggers at my deepest hurts, freshest wounds to have the pleasure to watch me crumble within his grasp. And when I’m too weak to stand, he lifts me back up. Suddenly, my stomach aches, I want to throw up. It’s bubbling up my throat, the guilt is eating at me until I am nothing. How could I ever even forget how wonderful this man is to me, how could I ever want to leave? I wipe my memory of all the nights I spend crying on the floor. We never speak of it, what we’re doing, but the guilty look in his eyes tells me he knows. We both do. I sleep on the floor for another week, I can’t move. I am paralyzed by my heavy heart, a locket around my neck. It’s golden, decorated in whimsical swirls. A picture of Conrad stays with me always, I clench in my fist. I want to rip it off, watch the chain scatter. It weighs me down, I can barely breathe.

I am a good girl, I don’t fight. I stay quiet while Conrad fights himself. I don’t buy into his attempts to work me up anymore. I know that with him, with us, we are destined to see storms. I know better now that once they pass, the sky will clear and the tragedy of it all will fade away. So I wait. I always wait for that moment of clarity. I refuse to think when I’m so worked up.

It’s sad, and it’s beautiful and oh so tragic, the way we dance around each other. How hours ago I was standing outside his door, regretting my naivety, trying to salvage us. Now I sit in his living room, waiting for him with my legs crossed. The melodic ticking of the clock alerts me of the time. I’m cold, my nose is rosy. I let the house capture me in its warm blanket. A sacred place of safety, I smell Susannah, I smell my mother. I see Belly’s old pictures on the wall in frames and Stevens gifts to Jeremiah and Conrad.

“Y/n/n, hey.” His voice is airy, lips pressed to my temple. I didn’t even hear him coming in the deafening ringing of silence in my ears. My eyes shift to his face, but I cannot move.

“Hi Con.” My voice is coarse, tired. It’s so late, my eyes hurt from being open so long. His arms wrap around me as the couch dips beside my thighs. He’s so warm, so gentle now, I find myself drifting away again. Getting lost in the calm, I forget about how devastating the storm was. I haven’t even picked up all my discarded pieces yet. Somehow, I manage to keep giving away more and more, even now. I am not sure how I can afford this.

Our conversation is warm, long. He talks about school and I talk about mine. With us being alone, I miss any snide comments or judgmental stares. He is so much kinder without the influence of others. He is almost the same man I grew up loving.

“You’ll still visit me, won’t you?” He pleads innocently. The look in his eyes is genuine, I almost crumble. A sharp intake of air is stuck in my throat, my brain becomes re-wired.

I remember the sad looks from Susannah, the fights with my mother. I remember how disappointed Belly was when I left again. How Steven yelled and fought until I was gone. Everyone in my life sees it in a bad light and I still managed to miss it.

Suddenly the golden chain around my neck feels heavy again. It hurts my skin, it’s burning the back of my neck. I hold it in my hand, it’s still heavy in my palm.

“Y/n?” His hand is on my thigh, I can’t breathe. My chest heaves, my throat is burning. There’s a lump stuck in my throat. It’s expanding and my eyes hurt. I’m tired, I’m sick, I’m sad.

Standing up, his hands drop from my lap. I close my eyes so I don’t have to look at him anymore. I can feel my lip quivering while I suck in a harsh breath. My eyebrows are furrowed, fists clenched.

“Y/n, hey, baby…” He cooed at me, palm pressing to my cheek. I am inconsolable, irrevocably damaged. Too lost in our beauty to remember the tragedy, the sadness that defines us. That is us.

“Conrad, I’m leaving.” It comes out sticky. Quiet other than my sniffles and his breathing.

“You just got here, did…have I done something?” I feel his hands slip down to my elbows. He holds me in place son the carpet. It hurts, not because he’s holding too tight, but because his touch burns.

“No, Conrad.” My eyes open, I search his blue ones. I get lost in our deep they are, collecting my thoughts. I feel trapped.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t. If I stay any longer I’m afraid I won’t ever leave.” His face is blank until it isn’t. It’s shifting, contorting into something that looks incredibly confused, pained.

“What, what are you saying?” His voice is less calm now, raising. Not quiet reaching the level of desperation I can see building inside of him already.

“It’s a cycle, Con, can’t you see it? We’re toxic and it’s sick because we are the ones letting it be this way. We fight but we never talk. You promise me you’ll get better but you never do! I’m tired of trying to be alright when I’m around you! You don’t make me feel good.” It’s off my chest, yet he hasn’t comprehended any of it.

“Y/n, please. We can work through it, right? I love you, I do. Please just, please. I love you, you have to love me. It doesn’t just go away like that, I love you.” He’s crying now. His blue eyes clouded in a dark overcast. He makes me feel guilty. All self respect I have is gone, and suddenly I’m back in his arms.

My head finds its place on his shoulder, I tuck my face into his neck. Not to be close, but because I feel to ashamed to show it after falling so quickly under his mind games.

Silently, I agree with him. Of course I still love him, I always will. So I stay, a fool who got so close, but remained so far away. He presses another kiss to the side of my head and tells me I won’t regret it. When I wake up alone in his bed, cold the next morning, I know I’ve been blinded to another empty promise. It’s so hard to stay when he’s mean, but it’s even harder when he’s sweet. So I pack my things quietly and leave. I won’t visit him at school. Not until he comes home will we see each other again.

Oddly enough, the thought doesn’t drain me. I don’t dread never seeing him for weeks on end. I don’t regret not choosing somewhere closer to get an education simply to be near him. I am relieved he will be gone. My heart keeps beating.

It’s barely a month before I’m stood back in front of him. Only now the carpet is cold cement and his living room is the train tracks. He is in Boston, he’ll never leave. He tries his hardest to get me to stay. He’s the nicest I’ve ever seen him. He’s persuasive, but in our time apart he doesn’t know I see it less as a genuine feeling from him and more as a twisted tactic of manipulation.

“We can settle down, we’re almost out of college. Just me and you and it’ll be great. If you’d only give us another chance.” He pleads, hands not yet on my skin, but he’s so close. I can feel his warm breath on my skin.

“I don’t want that anymore, Conrad.” I try to be kind about it, I try and blame my distance on myself. It is me who is trying so desperately to break things off. He’ll never know it was his cold heart that shattered our beautiful love. But it’s helpless, he won’t stop.

“Then we’ll travel the world. Y/n, I don’t care, I just want to be with you!” He tries again. Yet all his words are the exact same. He’s not even trying to understand me, I feel like screaming.

“No, no.” I reaffirm. I won’t look at him because it hurts me too much. I know if I look at him I’ll stay again. My chest is closing in on me, I can’t help but reach to hold onto it. My pinky grazes the same locket when I do. It’s dainty, but gorgeous. There’s stacks of photos within it. Mostly of Conrad, but a few of my family underneath.

“I’m not understanding, Y/n. I don’t get it?” He’s desperate, the train is coming. Once it pulls up to the platform, if he hasn’t convinced me one last time to stay, I’ll be forever gone. It’s the final fight, we can feel it.

“All we do is fight, Conrad. I can’t fight anymore. I tried to end it earlier and you promised me it would work out, it would stop but it hasn’t! And I can’t do it anymore.” My hands rest on the bends of his elbows. I hold him close, I look into his eyes finally, I want him to understand me, I beg for him to understand me.

“Then let me fix it. Let me make it better, Y/n. Anything, I’ll do anything I just can’t-don’t walk away.” My pleads are deaf on his ears. He doesn’t care about what I want, and it’s apparent now that he never did. He’s selfish, so he only takes. He wants me but he hates to have to deal with me.

“Conrad, stop!” He’s ranting, my voice is loud over his. A few people turn their heads. It’s so late in the evening, they’re only passing. Ready to go home.

My eyes shift around until everyone has gone back to their own business. The breath that leave my chest is heavy, harsh but quick.

“Please, Con. Please just try and listen to me.” My voice is breaking. Not because my leaving is breaking my heart, but because I am tired. I am tired of staying, of being so weak. I am wasting my youth on a boy who hasn’t matured yet. I deserve more, I crave it.

“There’s no amount of fixing either of us could do to mend whatever’s happened between us. We lost it a long time ago. And I’ll always love you, how could I not? You’re everything to me. But you’re not mine anymore, and I can’t be yours.” My hands slip from his skin to my chest. I try an even out my breathing, again I am reminded of my necklace. It feels wrong to still wear his picture around my neck when I’ve already let him go.

Unclasping it slowly, I let the gold gather in my palm. It’s warm from where it touched my skin. It’s rusting form how often it’s been worn, and my neck feels lighter. I ball up my fist, taking his hand over my other one steadily.

When he feels the warmth mixing with the coolness of the pendant, I can see him giving up. He nods, swallowing hard.

When the train comes, I wave goodbye to him one last time. He’s frozen, hand still holding the locket out and eyes still sad. I wonder how long he’ll stay there, I never see him move even as the train pulls away from the station.

………………………………………………………………………………….

The whirring of the train passing is accompanied by the occasional blowing of its horn. It’s deafening against the heavy silence that’s consumed me. There’s not even a crunch of a leaf to break it. Now that she’s gone, it’s settled in how I’m truly alone. I’ve blown it.

I wait for her to be out of sight. The caboose nothing more than a small speck in the horizon. The moon is high, the wind is chilling. It’s nearly winter in Boston, yet the weather is no where near as cold as my bones. I curl my fingers over her locket, bringing my knuckles to my lips, I breathe over it.

It doesn’t even smell like her. It’s a sad souvenir of pity. She didn’t want me, I’m certain she only gave it to me because she didn’t want a reminder of me either.

I stuff it into my pocket slowly, fingers feeling around the rough cotton of my pants. It sits snug at the bottom of it, right beside the long, handwritten note I prepared for her.

I knew I had my own demons, I know I was a mess. I treated her horribly, I gambled away our love. But this time I was serious. I wanted to fix it. I wanted to make it better.

My words meant little to nothing now. There were no amount of promises I could make when I was already too late.

[blerdyotome]

Visual Novels to Play this Pride Month (and Beyond)

Happy Pride Month Blerdy Tribe! Representation has come a long way over the years and now more than ever, there are so many great games featuring stories and identities from within the LGBTQ+ community. So, to celebrate Pride, I’ve compiled a list of amazing LGBTQ+ visual novels that you should definitely add to your play lists, backlogs, and wishlists. While Pride Month is celebrated in the…