#idc. next

[nk-rinji]

[FFXIVWrite] Butte

[This text references RP events and may be difficult to understand without context.]

Rinji kept looking from the small cliff they found themselves onto the pathway uphill, upon the great mountain looking over the entirety of Urqopacha. Somewhere deep following that path, her friends are giving their life to save them. Somewhere deep in there, they are faced with one of the biggest monsters she has ever seen. Somewhere deep in there, they might give their last cry, lost within the isolation.

But she's not somewhere in there. She's here. Keeping watch. Hoping, waiting. Surely, at least one of them would run back? But no. There's nothing.

The night draws long. Her watch must continue.

[givemebackmypills]

[crowleysfall]

i stand with my cancelled wife btw

[idontmindifuforgetme]

Does anyone want to be friends or to maybe fall in love with me so deeply that we find each other in the next life and every life after that bc our connection is unbreakable across lifetimes

[syrupbitee]

free my boy from his own show he did nothing wrong

[treviso-nights]

everyone say thank you to brianne battye who wrote for both cullen rutherford and neve gallus, two people who would rather fall on a sword than develop crushes but ultimately can't resist the indecipherable yearning of their huge, disgustingly soft hearts

[doctorsiren]

He’s so dramatic

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

pt. 2

you just saw your ex boyfriend, dick grayson, for the first time since he broke up with you.

you ran into him on the street.

no, like, literally ran into him.

you were walking your mom’s dog for her, a german shepherd she got when you moved out. she’d aptly named him trouble. despite his name, trouble was usually a mellow guy, even if he was huge. walking him was just another thing you were doing to try and ignore the thoughts constantly pounding out a beat in your head.

oh, dick would think this is funny! that’s dick’s favorite color, i should buy it! dick and i should go there on our next date!

and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on and-

anyways, you were definitely trying to keep yourself busy.

any time a memory popped up in your brain of him—

laughing at your jokes, holding you close while you fell asleep, kissing your neck while he thrust into you

—you’d empty the dishwasher, paint your nails, (any color but blue) turn on reality tv, read a book, stuff your face, whatever.

anything to stop fucking thinking about him and his stupid blue eyes and his dumb smile.

you’d been been watching the news, sprawled across the couch. just the regular gotham news: don’t use main street, mr. freeze’s ray iced out the pavement. the iceberg lounge had been raided by the police for the third time this month. the justice league defeated yet another extraterrestrial threat to humanity, blah, blah, blah. you weren’t really watching. the news program ended, and the next one started. a gotham gossip show. they were doing a special segment on the wayne family.

of course they fucking were. even your tv was conspiring against you. you had to resist the urge to chuck the remote at it.

you turned it off instead, heading to your room to get ready for a run.

(running for exercise or running from your thoughts?)

your mom had asked you to take trouble right before you’d walked out the door, and so you grabbed him and his leash and headed out. you’d forgotten the bags for his poop, but you didn’t think you would be out that long, so you just kept on going.

you were wearing the leggings dick had bought you, ones he joked should be a specific blue color. you hadn’t understood then, but you more than understood now. it was warmer, and so you just had on an old sports bra on top, and some converse.

you were not the athletic type. that was dick. probably still was. you wouldn’t really know.

you hadn’t talked since it happened, like three or four weeks ago.

time had become a little fuzzy. your mom said you could stay with her as long as you needed, but you were starting to get the itch to move out.

nothing against your mom, it’s just hard to sob really loudly into a pint of ice cream when she’s there.

and she keeps trying to wash the one shirt of dick’s you still have. you know, fully well, how dumb it is, (and a little gross) but you’re still wearing his shirt every night to bed. and maybe it’s all in your head, but it still smells like him. you aren’t ready to wash it. besides, now that you’re sleeping by yourself, you’re pretty sure it’s helping you fall asleep. something that was hard to do the first few nights without your big warm boyfriend next to you in bed.

it probably isn’t good for you, to keep wearing his shirt.

you’d had your hand between your thighs more than once late at night thinking about being enveloped in his scent. your nights were haunted with thoughts of his body over yours, his phantom voice in your ear. calling you angel, asking you if this was heaven, like the last time you’d had sex.

it definitely isn’t good for you.

but neither is life without dick grayson.

you try not to dwell on the fact that dick had given you a sort of non-reason for the breakup. sure, it got lonely sometimes, or you got anxious for your masked boyfriend, so you cried. so what if your patience wore thin after a few too many “i’m sorry, angel, i can’t make it this time”-s.

you were human!

but you’d never, never once complained about his absence or his commitments to his family.

never.

he’d just assumed you were silently suffering and it really irked you if you thought about it for too long. you still weren’t sure if you were mad at him or sad, or whatever. it felt like your brain couldn’t decide on an emotion so you just got twelve at once. but what you did know for sure was that he was 110% worth it to you. you just wish he’d realize that. see that. instead of just the times you were a little emotionally strung out. your ex boyfriend was too willing to sacrifice his own mental health for the sake of yours and you were sick of it. but you didn’t know if you had the courage to say that to him. or even see him, after the way this breakup had hit you.

your friends had managed to get you out of the house, a few times now.

you’d gotten almost too drunk every time, escaping your friends and going outside to get some air. this time, you saw a guy that looked just enough like dick, and it’d all been too much. so you got out of there. you sat yourself down on the curb, looking up at the hazy rooftops. you were always looking up. always.

and since the break up, you’d noticed the vigilantes of your city more often. maybe there was more criminal activity. maybe you were just paying more attention than you used to.

you’d seen spoiler and orphan, pounding the pavement behind you to run after some seedy looking guy holding a briefcase. you think spoiler tried to high five you on the way past, but there was no way. you wrote it off as your memory embellishing things.

you were pretty sure red hood had nodded at you before disappearing down a fire escape on the other side of the building.

your mom had recently gotten a delivery of security cameras for her house. but she hadn’t ordered them. the shipping address had only the address of some warehouse on the dock, the name just, ‘R.R.’ you’d set the cameras up, but you and your mom both were still baffled about it.

and here, sitting on the curb, you were staring at what looked like a dark figure crouched on the rooftop opposite. they’d been there when you’d entered the club, too.

you squinted, trying to make out shoulders and suit colors, when they stood up, and the light bounced off his shiny cowl.

fucking batman?

you shook your head, trying to shake your drunk brain like an etch-a-sketch. there was actually no way.

a smaller figure, one you hadn’t seen behind the shape of batman (!?) pulled a weapon, a gleaming silver sword, and pointed it at you. your head spun. batman (there was no way) shook his head at robin. he sheathed his sword, throwing his hands up in what looked like annoyance. you blinked, and they were gone.

you weren’t really sure if it had happened or not. you’d been trying not to think too hard about the fact that you still hadn’t seen nightwing. you’d really been trying.

so instead, you were walking your mom’s dog.

trouble had, in fact, pooped, and you were frantically looking around for something to pick it up with. gotham was already shitty enough without the addition of, well, literal shit. the streets were busy, but not crowded, and someone down the block whistled for a cab, catching your attention. you turned, and at the same time, trouble jerked your arm, pulling you backwards into someone walking on the sidewalk. the stranger made a choked sound.

“trouble??”

your heart stopped. you held your breath, turning around.

trouble was at attention, looking up at your ex-boyfriend with his head cocked.

dick’s eyes were wide. his hair shorter than you remember. he leaned down to scratch trouble behind the ears, his biceps and shoulder muscles in hard relief. are you dreaming? you didn’t recognize the shirt he had on, but he was wearing your favorite jeans of his, and his matching converse. your mouth felt like a desert.

trouble trails around the two of you, the leash long. he loves your ex-boyfriend, you know he won’t go anywhere.

“did you cut your hair?” you take a step forward. dick does too.

“i-” he clears his throat. “i did. do you like it?” he shifts his eyes, his cheeks bright pink.

you make a show of looking it over. he turns his head so you can see it from all angles. like he always did when he got a haircut.

your chest hurts.

you nod approvingly, flashing him a weak smile.

“it looks really nice. you’re very-” your face heats as you stop yourself. “it looks very handsome.”

that’s an understatement. you would’ve climbed him like a tree the minute he’d come home looking like that. the way his biceps were bulging out of his shirt sleeves could not be good for his circulation. it was great for yours, your heart was beating a mile a minute.

dick smiles down at you, stepping forward again.

“thanks.” he looks down, taking in your outfit. “nice leggings, ang-” he’s cut off when trouble spots a squirrel and darts, barking wildly. the problem is, trouble had been walking his leashed self around you and dick.

you’re now chest to chest with your ex boyfriend in the middle of a sidewalk, tied to him by rope. you vaguely hear trouble whine at the way his collar bit into his neck from the leash pulling taut. you didn’t even have the time to process the fact that he had almost called you angel. which was probably a good thing.

you’re breathing heavily, while dick doesn’t seem to be breathing at all.

he’s put his arms around you on instinct, and you hate the way you feel like you’re home. a shiver runs up your spine at the sudden closeness, and dick peers down at you through half-lids. your mouth dries up again. you suddenly feel indignant.

“you are not allowed to breakup with me and then show up and look at me like that!” you hiss at him.

you would throw up your hands in exasperation if they weren’t basically pinned to dick’s body. a smile breaks across his face, his bright blue eyes telling you everything you need to know. he stares at you, studying you. you wonder if he can feel how hard your heart is beating.

“alfred taught me a new recipe.” he blurts, his hand clutching at your back.

he’s adorable. but you school your face and raise an eyebrow at him.

“..oookay?”

dick blushes, his face sheepish. “i could make it for you, if you wanted.”

“what i want is an apology.” you look him up and down.

your ex boyfriend grimaces, squeezing his eyes shut. “understandable.”

“on your hands and knees. i think this is one of those begging-for-my-forgiveness type situations, don’t you think?”

dick nods, a strand of hair falling across his forehead. his eyes flash.

“you don’t have to worry about getting me on my knees.”

one heartbeat pounds behind your ribs, the other one between your legs. you huff out a weird sort of nervous laugh.

“oh, i’m not joking.” his lips curve up in a smile, one you know very well. he obviously plans to make up on lost time.

you forgot how charming he was. you have to practically force yourself to breathe. you’d do anything to have the real thing over his old t-shirt. you give yourself a mental shake.

he can flirt all he wants, but what about your heart? you look up at him, and his face softens, his pupils huge.

“can you get us untangled?”

dick nods, whistling for trouble. he frees an arm and grabs trouble’s collar, guiding him back around so the leash falls to the sidewalk. you step back, taking a deep breath. you’re cold at the sudden loss of his body heat. it’s a harsh reminder of reality. you grab trouble’s leash, having him sit. you look at your ex boyfriend.

“thanks.” you take another deep breath. “can you promise me something, though?”

he nods, his face serious. “anything. anything at all.”

“promise you won’t break my heart again?” you hold out your pinky finger.

dick coughs, surprised at your words. he looks down, taking a shaky breath. he’s in disbelief, he’s ecstatic, he’s on top of the world, he…has a lot of apologizing to do.

when he looks back up to offer up his own pinky, his eyes are shining. the sight makes your heart melt. you take his finger in yours, beaming up at him.

he gives you a soft smile in return. “i promise.”

you take your hand back, feeling the most hopeful you have in a month.

a breeze picks up, and the whiff you get reminds you of your earlier predicament. you look down. dick looks down too.

shit. literally.

you forgot about the fact that trouble had used the sidewalk as a toilet.

“is that trouble’s?” he asks.

you nod, making a face. “i forgot the poop bags.”

“rookie mistake.” dick shakes his head, smiling. you look him up and down, and then turn, walking back the way you came.

“text me about that recipe!” you lift your hand in a wave.

“but-..uh, the shit?” he calls after you.

“that’s alllll you, baby!” you yell back, practically skipping away. you feel like you’re floating.

[risingsunresistance]

i'd heard about the new minecart mechanics and people launching themselves off ramps, but i wanted to see how practical it was for travel. used buttons so that the rails would go back to their off positions after i used them... but hitting the button is really hard once you get going kjhfkg

behold: the multidirectional centrifuge

[brambeag]

they gave him long greying hair 4 me<3xoxoxo

[fiendishartist2]

whats going on up there

[gunsatthaphan]

🌙 // ☀️

[yandere-romanticaa]

There's something so oddly sweet about the "childhood friends to lovers" pipeline in fiction, but with Aemond Targaryen it takes such a deliciousy dark turn that my mind couldn't help but to linger on it.

Aemond can still recall every single harsh word his family has even thrown his way, how he can still feel the way his eyes would get wet but he had to hold it all in, because he could not afford to let himself to show even an ounce of weakness, not even to himself. Countless hours were wasted with him staring off into the distance somewhere, admiring the noble beasts which were flying high above in the sky, far away from the reach of anything and anyone.

Those were the times he was most envious of not having a dragon of his own. The green little beast known as jealousy would take over, causing him to want to step off the deep end.

Just as he felt the skin of his knuckles threatening to rip due to his tight grip, a warm pair of hands would make their way to him and hold onto him gently, as if he actually mattered somehow in the grand scheme of things.

Most of the time he would just stand there and let you embrace him, his heart doing cartwheels in his chest as his luscious blonde was carried by the wind. Although, if he had a particularly rough day, he would sometimes simply melt into your embrace. Cheek against cheek, Aemond could feel the worry radiating off you in spades.

It was dreadful how absolutely euphoric that made him feel.

You were his only real playmate growing up, causing him to become dreadfully possessive over you. It got so bad that Aemond outright forbade Aegon and Haelena of all people from even looking at you, let alone actually seeking you out. None of the other children in court were safe either as rumors spread fast that they ought to steer clear far away from you, lest they wished to suffer Aemond's thorny wrath.

The little paradise Aemond had cultivated for himself was not meant to last. One the same night he finally claimed his dragon, you had vanished along with your family.

He still remembers how excited he was to share the news with you, how he wished to tell you that once he was skilled enough he wished you to be the first person who would fly with him on his dragon.

No one else had the right to that privilege, absolutely no one.

But, things didn't go to plan. And truly, when do they ever?

Aemond had lost a lot that night and gained just as much. He had claimed a dragon, Vhagar, one of the largest and strongest dragons there were. In just one evening he became a one man army, there was nothing that could hold him back.

He can still feel just how tight the chair was he sat on as the maesters stitched his damaged eye, how hot the cracking fire next to him was, just how loud everyone was being... It was all irrelevant. The moment he could, he was going to seek you out and tell you everything, share each and every detail he could about his dragon...

... Until his mother told him the news.

Your family relocated due to some personal reasons and as Alicent went on and on about that, little Aemond felt his world shatter in a heartbeat.

He would rather take ten thousand cuts and stabs to his eye than ever face the pain he felt once he learned of your departure.

"It's for your own good too..." he can recall his mother saying, her voice sounding a little defeated.

"You shouldn't tie yourself to one person like you already have... I worry about you, Aemond."

That dark and stormy night, Aemond had made two vows to himself, vows he was going to sign with his own blood if he had to. The first was that no matter where in the world you were, no matter how far your family may try to take you, there would be no distance he would not tread, no man, woman or child he wouldn't slay just to hear the sound of your voice, to feel your soft skin, to be with you.

And the other was that he would make due on his promise of giving you a ride on Vhagar. He was in your debt for even trying to claim the mighty beast, it was only fair.

Aemond Targaryen took those two vows and kept them under lock and key, hidden deeply in his dark, which grew darker and darker. At the rate he was going, he would turn into a more terrifying beast than the actual dragon he had. Although, even dragons had their hearts.

You just happened to be Aemond's.

And he was going to come to you one day, soaked in the blood of his enemies, his arms open wide as he makes his way to embrace you once more.

[chalkrub]

son we celebrate wellyboot wfriday in this household

[dorudo-36]

Lambert in unholy alliance:

[jelliesparks]

the year of shadow forced me to slot him in with these two in my mind palace