#its okay no one died

[whumpdrabbles]

Parasympathetic

Geralt has a funny relationship with his bradycardia.

cw: nothing really crazy, just Gerald's thoughts about his witcher heartrate, both good and bad.

---

Ever since the trials Geralt's heart had become his gauge. He felt the change too, even before he could open his eyes after the trials, the first thing that pulled him to conciousness was the slow pulse of his own heart. He was a boy then, and now it beat slower still.

It wasn't the whimpering slow beat of a dying animal either, it was confident and powerful, as if to tell the rest of Geralt's body that they were different now, Geralt had nothing to fear.

Some nights, when he was warm next to a fire, Yen tucked into his chest and his Child Surprise sleeping soundly beyond the walls, he could feel the pulse of each individual chamber in rhythm. His heart rocking him to sleep, knowing he was safe and happy.

The confidence of his heart flowed beyond his veins and into Geralt's mind. No matter the injury, the poison, or fear that might assault him, his heart remained steady, and in turn Geralt could find a deep breath and remind himself of his strength.

His pulse felt like an ever present whisper in his ear, reminding him that things were always going to be okay, so long as his heart still beat.

And that made his glimpses of death all the more frightening.

Geralt felt the panic in his heart first before he knew anything else was wrong. His heart thrumming like a racing horse as the toxins spread through his bloodstream. His heart no longer a comfort but a warning bell of the sepsis infecting him. It was three days before they were sure he would live, and two months before he felt the familiar comfort of his slow beating heart again.

Later, it was the near-final moments of life when his heart slowed to a sluggish crawl as his blood spilled onto the dirt that Geralt appreciated the heart that once supplied his body. Geralt felt his arrogant heart become a quivering child in his chest, felt his heart clawing to life but weak and frail. The squeeze in his stricken chest was the last he felt before the blood-loss gave his mind to the darkness. It would be five days before he felt the pulse again in his body.

Geralt lamented on those conversations with his heart, and felt it pulse again in reassurance. He was okay, his heart was strong and steady now. He could always find comfort in that.

[naturecalls111]

unorthodox murder mystery

[morningsaidthemoon]

Excerpt from The Song of Roland, translated by Norma Lorre Goodrich (Medieval Myths)

[casualavocados]

Learn from who? Learn from you?

Chen Bowen as CHEN YI & Chiang Tien as AI DI KISEKI: DEAR TO ME (2023)

[keii]

Drew a nalu sketch bc for some reason my old ass art of them is making its rounds again on here lol

[stardustedknuckles]

It's looking like there's a growing divide between Campaign watchers and Tlovm watchers in terms of like. We're here for the characters. 12-episode seasons aren't. They can't be. I'm already making peace with everything we'll lose in the Mighty Nein show, and I know I will enjoy it for what it is but I also know that almost nothing that made the story so special will translate to the screen, because turning it into a show automatically means (in this day and age) that plot must be the number one priority. They've already come out and told us it's going to be different, the characters we know and love but new stories.

Because that's how this has to work. And I feel bad for campaign one lovers, because while it is certainly the easier of the two to translate to a big, overarching story, even though it's a more "traditional" high fantasy story with easier archetypal characters, the archetypes and the plot aren't what cemented most people's love for the campaign. So much of the love for critical role is stored in the interpersonal dynamics and the payoff that comes from hundreds of hours of tiny interactions that one day become cornerstones of development and even affect or dictate the plot.

There's no room for that. There's no room for Bard's Lament in a story that cannot afford to remove and replace a main character. A lot of tlovm is for people who have been here for all of campaign one. Most of it, however, isn't. It's for a new crowd. While CR may have creative control, you can bet your ass that there were months and years devoted to figuring out how to map a character-focused love of the show into a plot that hits the right beats to be viable in the show market.

And it worked. Tlovm has consistently high viewing numbers, and its popularity has brought and will continue to bring new people into the universe who have never interacted with CR previously. That's not a bad thing - imagine finishing your favorite show and discovering it has another FIVE HUNDRED HOURS of the equivalent of behind the scenes content. That's incredible for these newcomers. But man, it is in many ways a loss for us.

[harbingersglory]

hii could i req an soft dom arlecchino x sub/fem reader?? something w a really needy whiny reader n maybe like a mommy kink or thigh riding IDK tysm for ur time !

{☆} characters arlecchino {☆} notes drabble, fem reader, sub reader {☆} warnings 18+ content

"Slowly, doll. We're not in a rush." Arlecchino reprimands lightly, squeezing your hips with just enough force to keep you unmoving on her thigh– she was still being gentle, but the subtle warning in her tone spoke to how easily she could push you against the desk and turn you into such a mess that you couldn't even remember your own name..just that you were hers.

But the barest hint of stimulation from her slacks pressed against your throbbing cunt had you twitching, barely able to form words. All you could think about was the scorching, twisting need building in your stomach, desperation for relief slowly climbing until you'd think she was doing this on purpose to drive you mad.

"Please– 'm a good girl, right? I've been good.." You choked out, only to be met with the rough, husky laugh echoing in your ear that made you feel dizzy with a rush of need, her nails gliding along the skin of your hips as she pressed you down even more firmly– you couldn't see her face but it was easy to imagine the crooked smile twisting her lips at the way you inhaled sharply and tried to buck against her thigh.

"Shh. I know, doll. I've got you, just relax." She murmured in that sickly sweet tone that always had your knees buckling, the raspiness of her voice sending shivers down your spine. It was almost impossible to relax with her so close, the notes of metal lingering on her skin despite how well she presents herself– but you trusted her, despite how you know you shouldn't.

"There we go. Good girl." Arlecchino's grip on your hips loosened just enough for you to move if you so wished, and oh did it take every ounce of restraint to not do just that..she hadn't said you were allowed to, and you weren't about to spoil her good mood by being a brat. Not tonight, anyway. "Do you want to cum, doll?"

The fervent nod you offer in place of words draws a laugh from her lips, one that is almost mocking, making your face flush in embarrassment– but the sudden tap against your hip makes your mind go blank to the point you forget it all together, focused only on the feeling of her thigh rubbing against your cunt as you bucked against her thigh, the fabric slick and wet against your inner thighs. You'd have half the heart to be embarrassed about that, too, if not for the sudden brush of her thumb against your aching, neglected clit. Just that small touch has you speeding up your movements, practically drooling as you whimpered like a dog in heat.

"That's more like it, doll. Such a pretty girl." Arlecchino hummed, her other hand trailing up your stomach, between the valley of your breasts and ghosting across your throat before settling on grabbing your jaw in a firm, yet almost tender touch as she tilted your head to the side just enough for her to pull you into a burning kiss. It left you lightheaded, grinding down against her thigh as she claimed your mouth as her own, her thumb still ghosting over your clit sporadically.

She'd spent so long teasing you, constantly touching you but never where you needed her, that you already felt like you were going to snap like a wire. She must've been in a really good mood, then, when she pulled away from the kiss with an almost predatory lick of her lips, yet she settled on pressing kisses to your skin rather then the usual sharp bite of her teeth as they sunk into the curve of your shoulder.

"Are you close? Go on. I want to see your face when you cum– you look the prettiest when you finally break apart, doll." Arlecchino mused idly– as if she wasn't talking to you while you continued to rub your aching cunt against her thigh, chasing your own release through shaky, strained breaths. Her thumb swiped over your lips, brushing strands of hair stuck to your skin from your face– at the same time as she swiped her thumb more firmly against your clit, creating a vicious contrast that had you both melting at the barest hint of almost softness from her and the touch of her hand between your legs, dragging you into an orgasm that leaves you trembling and, had she not shoved her fingers into your mouth, screaming, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.

"All done, little doll. Take it easy." She murmured, voice so quiet you almost didn't hear it, thumb swiping across your cheek to wipe away the stray tear, her hands pulling away to settle on your sides. "You did well– good girl. Let me take it from here."

[valeriianz]

Hiii @embroiderling here. For the way you said I love you, can I ask for 31? Or 27. Or 25 😂 all the options are so good 💖

Thank youuuu

Helloooo! So nice to see you after so long! haha 31: In awe, the first time you realised it also, reincarnation au :D

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

“I love you.”

The stranger looks twice at Hob, a beautiful expression of bafflement making his eyes pop.

Hob blinks, the words coming back to him.

“Sorry,” Hob laughs, breathless. He feels a flush growing up his neck. ��That just– came out of me. I don’t– here–” Hob scrambles to get his feet flat on the ground and heft himself up halfway, extending a hand to the man he’d crashed into… who looks achingly familiar.

The man, who Hob takes in properly now, hesitantly takes Hob’s hand, allowing himself to be pulled up from the ground, standing now on unsteady legs. They carefully walk out of the bike lane and onto the slightly congested sidewalk. Hob realizes he doesn’t have his scooter until his hand shoots out to catch the thin, gorgeous man, by the elbow as he wobbles a bit.

“Careful.” Hob offers a smile but it feels broken. “You okay?”

The man looks up from the point where they are touching, back to Hob, absolute shock and something like recognition glinting in his eyes.

Hob’s breath catches when he sees that the man is crying. Beautiful blue eyes shine and overflow down pale skin and strikingly sharp cheekbones.

“What’s wrong?” Hob’s grip tightens slightly on the man’s arm while the other hovers between them.

“I don’t know…” The man finally speaks with a voice that sounds like heaven. His fingers shake as he wipes away the tears on his face. “I just feel like…”

His low vibrato cracks as he looks back at Hob.

“Feels like I’ve been waiting an eternity to hear you say that.”

Hob’s jaw drops and his heart soars.

“What’s your name?”

“Dream.”

Hob huffs out a disbelieving laugh.

“It’s– It’s so crazy. I knew that.” Hob laughs properly now at the smile that tugs up the corner of Dream’s lips. “Do you know me? What’s my name?”

Dream’s brows pinch together as he seems to study Hob.

“... Hob.”

The smile that cracks through Dream’s composure is enough to send pin pricks up Hob’s spine, tickling the back of his neck, not to mention how incredibly strange and yet familiar this all seems. Like he’d looked at those crystal blue eyes a hundred times, in a hundred different lifetimes, a hundred different emotions reflected in them.

Then Dream laughs. A bark of laughter that he immediately covers with his hand and finally, for the first time since Hob spoke to him, looking away, the tips of his ears turning pink.

“What’s so funny?” Hob’s smiling so wide he feels his eyes squint.

“I don’t know!” Dream nearly screeches, his visage morphing through something like the five stages of grief before smiling again.

“But…” Dream manages to get himself under control, looking around at the people walking past them, the buildings towering over them, and back to Hob. “It’s a very strange name.”

It feels like an excuse, or some explanation that at least makes sense.

“I love your laugh,” Hob blurts out, feeling more present, all the sudden.

Dream sighs, his body relaxing, like he’s committed to whatever is happening… acquiescing to it. 

“I know you do.”

Hob grins. This is insane.

“Can I take you to dinner?”

Dream’s breath seems to catch, his eyes flicking up and down.

“I feel like you owe me a lot more than dinner.”

Hob laughs again, emotion welling on inside his throat and making his own eyes begin to burn.

“I’m going to make it up to you. God. What is happening right now?”

Dream merely shakes his head, running a hand through his hair and looking around them.

“Are you free tonight? Eight o’clock?”

Hob nods, excitement– like a child, rushes through his veins.

“Let’s meet here,” Dream points to the ground. “... again, if you’re serious.”

Hob nods again. “I’ll be here.”

“Good,” Dream takes a long breath, his eyes seem to burn, instantly watching Hob. “I will see you again.”

An unconscious grin splits across Hob’s face.

“You will.”

[companion-showdown]

Who had the worst time aboard the TARDIS?

TOURNAMENT MASTERPOST

[trobeds]

i know the hunger games isnt about romance i know it isnt a love story but. theres just something so beautiful in the way peeta is the personification of what it means to heal and he /is/ the dandelion and the bread and the hope that things can be better even if they wont be fixed. even if the nightmares dont stop he will still hold her. wake her up and tell her shes alive. shes safe. and when its over and done and theres no more saving or protecting or trying their absolute hardest to die if it means keeping the other alive, the horrors dont stop. but katniss will still find that comfort in peetas arms.

[seagull9111]

nico with heterochromia but the first time he tells will about it will has a minor panic attack because he says "heterophobia"

[aterfish]

Being ace is an opposite of fuck around and find out:

Fuck nobody and never know for sure

[worstloki]

there is a difference between being born to a throne, maliciously vying for a throne, stealing a throne, and having a throne thrust upon you when you are already in the midst of an identity crisis. And I fear Loki's place in the line of succession has people unable to differentiate between any of these

[casualavocados]

An idiot like you...an idiot like you...

KISEKI: DEAR TO ME Ep. 9

[flowery-king]

He's from a musical its not my fault

Extra:

[tequiilasunriise]

Possible nicknames Lenore called Annabel in life go:

"Anniebell": Sometimes the smallest changes are the cutest, okay? Anniebell Lee sounds adorable as hell and I'll stick by it. Imagine Annabel trying to admonish Lenore for saying some wild shit at a Rich Persons Gala™️ or smth but she keeps breaking out into giggles like, "You- you can't just say that pet!" and Lenore playfully replying, "Oh whatever do you mean, Anniebell Lee?" like UGH I hate them somebody throw hammers at em already 💥💥🔨🔨🔨

“My moon”: in relation to the Annabel Lee poem (‘for the moon never beams/Without bringing me dreams/Of the wonderful Annabel Lee’) and also there’s smth so flavorful of the character with a color palette more akin to the Sun (long shiny blonde hair, warm colored eyes, seemingly more outwardly personality, etc) being called the moon like I loveee contrasting design choices‼️‼️

“Angel”: Also a reference to the poem (but like, worse because it was the angels that separated em) and can be easily pulled from Annabel’s name

“Petal”: Or some other variation of a flower based nickname because imma sad, sad bisexual who loves ✨flower motifs✨ just a bit too much

Anything in Dutch: This can be like common ones like “liefje” (darling) or the previous entries but in Dutch idk go crazy go stupid

“Locket”: An unconventional pick pulled from Annabel’s last name Whitlock + lockets containing pieces of hair from your other half being T H E romantic gesture of the century back then, so, like. Idk. Hear me out like okay I think Lenore could be the unconventional route (I mean girly already faked her death via arson and pulled a Mulan to get the girl soooo you see what I’m putting down?) and like like LIKKEEE⁉️⁉️⁉️ Imagine with me Lenore telling her girl, “You’re the locket I keep nearest to my heart” (many necklaces back then had a chain just long enough for the locket to rest above the wearer’s heart) and it evolves to Lenore calling Annabel smth like “my dearest, my locket” LIKE YOU HAVE TO IMAGINE WITH ME!!! GUYS MY VISION IS VISIONING!!! 🦅🗣️🌈🗣️🗣️🦅🦅🌈🗣️🦅🦅

@incorrect-nevermore cmere and witness my madness