#something something dream is the ghost that haunts the prison

[fioiswriting]

Reunion | oneshot

Summary : After the Battle Above the Gods Eye, Daemon returned victorious. Aemond was presumed dead, though his body was never found. Three years later, you've mourned your former husband and are ready to move on. But it seems that some ghosts from your past have come back to haunt you, and that the dead aren't really dead after all...

[Part 2]

Rating : Explicit 18+, MDNI

Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader, implied Cregan Stark x Reader (you can interpret them as lovers or not). Reader is Rhaenyra and Harwin’s daughter so I imagined her with dark hair like Jace, Luke and Joffrey but feel free to imagine her as you want of course <3

TW : unprotected sex, breeding kink, mention of characters death, angst, possessiveness, p in v sex, oral m receiving, praising kink, dom/sub undertones, mention of war, AU where the Blacks won the war, Alys Rivers (but no cheating), Reader has a child, grief, light choking, not proofread.

Words count : 7600

Author's notes : Hi everyone !! Sooo I’m posting my first ever fanfic on here, my first x reader and my first fanfic for Aemond. I’m very anxious haha But well, this fanfic is heavily inspired by a RP that has been going on for months with my wonderful gf <3 She writes Aemond so well I swear and now she’s making me fall in love with Cregan too haha oops whatever. Some of Aemond’s lines in this fanfic are hers so of course the credits go to her 💕 Long story short the reader’s backstory is inspired by my OC! The plot doesn't make any sense but whatever

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!

Enjoy 🖤

I don't know what I'm supposed to do Haunted by the ghost of you Oh, take me back to the night we met The night we met - Lord Huron

The snow had covered the landscape of Winterfell in a thin white layer so similar to ash, and the image tugged at your heart for a moment. Ashes. Fire. War. It was strange, the stillness that had followed the fury of screams and blood, of fire and ash, the constant anguish and pain of loss. It was like a long howl and then sudden silence. Life had resumed its course, the earth and the grass nurtured in red, as if nothing had happened, and that still irritated you sometimes, three years later.

For this peacefulness was a constant reminder of your life before. Before the war, before your own family ripped itself apart from within, before you lost him. There was something bitter in the thought that, in an alternate reality, you would have been happy with him by your side. The night brought its share of sweet dreams, lulled by the embrace of his arms, and you closed your eyes with ease, hoping to see his face again, which was fading day by day, desperately clinging to the details that made him.

It had been the best solution, you knew. 

For there was no reality in which he could live as much as you wished for. And you had accepted your duty by straightening your shoulders, silencing your heart, digging your thumbnail into the inside of your wrist. Your stepfather had said he was dead; he had seen Vhaegar fall from the sky, wounded.  He had seen the huge dragon crash into the water with all its weight. He had waited, and no silver hair had returned to the surface. He had searched and no body had been found.

So, he had returned, triumphant, with the conclusion that Aemond Targaryen was dead.

The room had swayed around you, but your fingers on the hard, rough wood of the table had kept you grounded. You had nodded, unsure, your ears ringing, your teeth sinking into the flesh of your tongue to hold back the tears that were beading at the edges of your eyes.

You knew it was inevitable, perhaps even fair. But it still hurt.  It sill fucking hurt.

Daemon had reassured you by pointing out that you were now released from your marital obligation.  A marriage to him that you had hoped for, waited for, dreamed of in your younger years. A marriage you had despised, once forced into, once made captive, a prisoner to be used against your own mother. And then a marriage that you had loved, cherished even, when he had opened up to you, when he had changed, when he had revealed that soft side despite his rough edges.  And you loved him, truly. The childhood love, the shy love that had blossomed between laughter muffled behind the curtains, hand-in-hand runs through the Red Keep and reading session hidden under the library table, had been rekindled.  Raw, devouring, bruised by war, but more powerful than ever.

Out of the corner of your eye you had caught a glimpse of the comforting gaze of your mother, the Queen, her gentle eyes searching for clues that would betray what you were feeling. It was she who had stroked your hair that evening, her presence welcome and soothing.

During the war, events had made you more uncertain than ever; blood and cheese had broken something in you. Suddenly shaken by the horrific actions of someone you hardly recognised, by the actions of your own family and the father figure who had raised you as his own daughter. You questioned your loyalties more than ever. Of course, you'd been devastated by Luke's death, your beloved little brother, so innocent, so sweet, and the despair you'd felt, the sadness, had gradually turned to anger. 

Your desire for revenge had fed on your rage, on your anger.

And in your quest for revenge, you had grabbed the dagger hidden in your bodice when you had kissed him, when you had poisoned him with your lips and your body pressed against his. Perhaps it was cowardice to do it on your wedding night, right after the pitiful ceremony in which you had been forced to exchange your vows of fidelity, the humiliation of the white, blue, red and green cloak around your shoulders.  Perhaps it was cowardice to wait for him to surrender to your touch, hard with desire, before plunging the blade straight into his heart.

But you didn't do it, in the end, the humiliation of your failure burning in your cheeks, and you had seen the horrible reality in the icy eye fixed on you: he was expecting it.  He knew. He had anticipated you, as usual, one step ahead of you, ahead of your plans. And the humiliation was all the more bitter.

First he had defied you, knowing full well that you couldn't do it, despite your momentary hesitation. Then he had wiped away your tears, the sound of metal echoing off the floor as he captured your lips with his own. 

And both you and he had sought to release the accumulated tension in the comfort of your naked bodies, in the rough, demanding thrusts.

You weren't quite sure when your relationship had changed. When he had become more forgiving. When he had trusted you. When he had become gentle. When you had felt him slipping away, subtly, almost imperceptibly. When you had begun to seek comfort in his arms, to seek the warmth of his body, to seek his love on his lips.

You loved him.

So you spent the nights lying awake in fear. Fearing the moment when you would have to make a choice. Fearing the moment when you would have to betray.

Which side would you choose when both armies were coming towards you, carrying the same flags, the same weapons, both calling your name?

Anxiety had spread its roots in the pit of your stomach, crescent moons in the palms of your hands. You felt as if you were losing your mind.

But the choice had been forced upon you without you having to make it. You had accepted it, as your duty demanded, as your loyalty to your family demanded.

Life at Winterfell wasn't so bad, quite the opposite in fact, despite the cold and snow you weren't used to. Cregan Stark was a good man. He had given you time and space to grieve, and had opened the castle gates to you with kindness. You had decided that you could get used to the cold and the snow, to the stone and the rustic wood, so different from the refineries of the capital, but infinitely warmer.

It was your choice, your departure for Winterfell.  Dragonstone was still haunted by the ghost of Luke, by the ghosts of Joffrey and little Aegon and Viserys and Rhaenys and all the family members you had lost.  King's Landing was haunted, too. By your sweet aunt and her cries of despair, by Aegon's descent into madness, by the humiliations you had so gracefully endured, by the recurring announcements of deaths, by the smell of the innocents’ blood, by the pitiful looks of Alicent, who had seen in you the image of herself a few years earlier, powerless and manipulated.

But above all, it was haunted by him.

The weight of the memories had become unbearable and you needed to leave.

You chose Winterfell, hoping the cold would help you forget. And Jace had come with you, his thumb caressing the back of your hand with affection, always the protective, reassuring big brother he was to you.  Probably glad to see his friend again, too. Your friend, to both of you.

But forgetting was something you'd never really been able to do, even less with the last memory he'd left you.

Now, just over three years later, you felt ready to return to King's Landing to visit your parents, to face the demons of your past and to mourn once and for all. It was inexplicable, perhaps a little strange, but you felt the need to go back.

On his first dragon ride, Rhaegar clapped his hands along the way, nestled into your arms in front of you, closing his eyes as the wind ruffled his dark curls. Midnight, your dragon, as pleasant as ever, as easy and gentle as ever, took care to be careful with the two of you on his back.

When you arrived, Rhaenyra hugged you as tightly as she'd ever hugged you, her nose buried in your thick hair, before bending down to take her grandson in her arms.

"I've missed you, sweet girl." she said to you. You smiled and reached for her arm, glancing at your son who'd grabbed one of your mother's long silver curls: "Daemon has missed you too. You know he doesn't show his feelings, but... he missed you." 

You smile, your eyes dropping to the floor.  You missed them, too, terribly, despite the frequent letters.

"And of course... we’ve missed you too, little one!" Rhaenyra added, catching the child's nose with her thumb and forefinger, causing him to burst into laughter.

It felt good to be back.  It was good to have regained some sort of routine in your daily life with your family. It was good to see the walls of the Red Keep return to their original familiarity, chasing away the ghosts you feared you might see again.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Perhaps you should have listened to your stepfather and not stray under any circumstances from the knight who has been following your every step with concern, afraid to lose sight of you. 

Five years earlier, it was Sir Erryk's vigilance that you had deceived when you had carelessly followed your eldest uncle into the dangerous streets of the capital.

The streets of King's Landing offered you a freedom you had missed. But now you almost regret sneaking through the crowds to escape the vigilance of the knight who had escorted you. You decide to take a shortcut, the hood of your cloak pulled down over your forehead.  It must have been your imagination.  You aren’t on the worst side of the city, not like five years ago, and the streets have become safe, much safer now that your parents are in power.

Your footsteps led you to some stone steps, which you climb at full speed, your heart pounding in your chest.  Glancing behind you, you disappear like a shadow around the corner of an alley, but the feeling is still there. You feel as if you are being followed.

At the Red Keep you already had the unpleasant feeling of being observed. In the gardens, with your son. Along the ramparts, enjoying the sea breeze on your face.

But you blamed it on your body's automatic response to the anxiety that had built up in all the years you'd spent within the walls of the Keep.

You slow your pace as you spot the dome and towers of the Great Sept at the end of the alley. From there you can easily find your way back to the Red Keep. All you had to do is keep moving, staring ahead, pressing your pace, wrapped in the thick wool of your cloak.

One step after the other. Breathing deeply. Half-moons in your palms.

The Great Sept growing closer give you a strange kind of reassurance.

And then suddenly, one hand closes over your mouth, the other around your waist. Your back bangs painfully against the cold stone wall of the winding alley into which you have been dragged. Fuck. Fuck.

You are too paralysed to struggle, too paralysed to bite the hand of the stranger holding you prisoner between the wall and his own body.

"You obviously learned nothing from my advice, Lady Strong," the icy voice whispers in the hollow of your ear. Your eyes widen. 

That voice. It couldn't be.

Lady Strong. Lady Strong. Lady Strong.

It can’t be.

That is your sick mind playing tricks on you again.

"As reckless as ever, hm, aren't you? You could easily get yourself killed."

The stranger releases you and you look up again, tears forming at the corners of your eyes, searching for that icy blue, tinged with lilac, that have read through you so many times before.

It is impossible.

He has died three years before, falling from Vhaegar's back into the deep waters of the lake at Harrenhal.

Is it a ghost? Is it a hallucination?

"You are dead. You were dead," you whisper, more to yourself than to him, still in shock from the feel of his body against yours. You feel the tears that have formed at the corners of your eyes roll down your cheek, and your little fists pound his chest.

You have so much to say to him. So many things to reproach him for.

His hand cups your cheek to turn your head and force you to look at him, his thumb wiping away your tears. 

The way he looks at you hasn’t changed; it still makes you shiver. You still feel that your uncle could read through you, that he could discover your deepest secrets.  And there is still that hint of desire, too, that gleam in his one seeing eye.

You want to kiss him. You want to slap him.

He clenches his jaw as he pulls you against him, burying your face in his chest, his arms around you. He rests his chin on your head. One of his hands strokes your dark hair as you stifle sobs into the wool of his cloak.

The situation takes you back to your wedding night, when he had comforted you in the same way after you had told him that you couldn't hate him, even if you had tried.

"I know," you hear him whisper, the vocal cords vibrating from his throat against the top of your head.

He is standing there, in front of you. You cling to the fabric of his clothes with all your might, as if you're afraid he'll slip away again.

"How?" you ask, eyes closed, head against him. If he is to be taken from you again, you intend to enjoy every moment in his company. 

He clenches again. You step back to look into his eyes, to search his enigmatic gaze for answers, for clues, for signs that would explain how. Why.

He doesn't answer you, but he is filled with desire as he grips your chin between his middle and index fingers, as he captures your lips with his own. You rediscover the possessiveness you've been missing. He pushes you a little harder against the wall behind you, as if to remind you who you belong to. Who you were married to.

A familiar warmth blossoms between your thighs, a warmth you haven't felt for too long. You're trapped, right there, your uncle towering over you, trapped between the wall and his body. His fingers close around your jaw and you kiss him back hungrily, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

You're perfectly aware that the situation is surreal.  You're perfectly aware that you're making a mistake, that you shouldn't respond to the kiss of the man who used to be your husband, not when he's technically still your enemy, not when he's technically dead. 

But you shut out the voices in your head begging you to stop.

"I still want to hate you, you know," you breathe between his parted lips. He merely mutters hm in reply, trying to shut you up again, his hands wandering under your cape, tracing the ribs of the body he'd missed so much. He reaches for your waist, your hips, which he grabs meanly. 

There's no one in the alley around you, but the hood over his head hides his long silver hair anyway. 

"Three fucking years." Your lips leave his, a mixture of anger and desire bubbling up from your lower belly. Aemond stares at you, his jaw clenched. He knows you need to unleash your emotions when you don't read an ounce of regret in his gaze. "Three. Fucking. Years. And you've told me nothing. You never sought to -"

"I couldn't," he retorts harshly. He seems to be searching for words to explain something you could not possibly understand, but his gaze does not soften. You know he needs time, you've learned to know him.  You've waited three years, what's another moment? But you're tired, and your patience isn't as strong as it used to be.  You look away, a mocking laugh escaping your lips as you repeat his justification. "You couldn't." 

"And risk your mother executing me?" He forces you to look at him again, and you feel the lump form in your throat. You know you are perhaps being unfair, but you were alone for those three years while you mourned him, so alone, and in a way, you want to make him pay.

"You were dead to me, qybor." Uncle. You feel him twitch at the mention of your family tie, at the nickname he used to love to hear on your tongue. "I had to live with the idea that you would never come back."

The tears that had dried on your cheeks threaten to flow again, pooling at the corners of your eyes. Aemond sighs. 

"I thought I was dead too," he whispers. You can feel the tension in every one of his muscles. There's a moment of hesitation, a silence that hovers between you.  You have so many questions, but you don't know where to begin.  Not a sound leaves your lips.

"She tended to my wounds," he adds, and you frown in confusion. "Alys."

Alys. You try to wriggle out of his grip, but he keeps you pinned to the wall.  Alys, you remember the rumours whispered in your ear by that rat of Larys - those false rumours, you remind yourself -  but you can't help feeling your heart clench.  You don't trust your voice enough to speak, to say anything.

"There's no one left in Harrenhal but her," he adds, as if you need that clarification, as if you need to know where he's been all this time. 

You say nothing. Your throat is tight. If you speak, if you look at him, you'll cry again and betray your feelings all over again. You refuse to make a fool of yourself, not now.

"She's the one who saw you. In Winterfell." There's a hint of bitterness in his voice as he mentions the place where you've spent the last few years rebuilding yourself, trying to forget him.  A bit of anger, perhaps, too.

"Cregan Stark welcomed me indeed," you reply curtly.  Perhaps you want to hurt him as he hurt you, but you are deliberately vague in your answer. "I have mourned you, qybor."

Everything is so confused in your mind.  A paradoxical blend of desire, anger, sadness, jealousy.  Of love too.

You want to strangle him and melt on his lips at the same time, and you know that after all this time you should be used to feeling this paradox of emotions with Aemond. Your uncle was a set of contradictions all his own.

"I saw you. On Midnight. That's how I knew you were here."

You nod. Words don't work between you, you know that. It has always been like that; the habit of letting silence speak more than words. The habit of communicating through the carnal acts of your bodies against each other. *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Aemond pushes you against the wooden door as soon as you enter the mediocre room of the inn. He is demanding, more than ever, as his hands run along your hips to your thighs to lift you up and press you against the door, your legs closing around him. He watches you with hungry eyes, like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. You can't stop a moan from escaping your lips. 

There's something feverish, passionate, urgent about the kiss. And when his tongue begs for an opening, your lips part to welcome him. There is only you in this room, an interlude where nothing else exists, where you don't have to worry about your duties and loyalties, where you are guided by nothing but passion.

His hand slams against the wall next to your head and with a movement of his hips he lifts you a little higher onto his waist, your legs locked tightly around him. He grunts into the crook of your neck at the friction of your crotch against his.

"Tell me to stop." His hand which isn't against the wall to support your weight slides up to your jaw. He lifts your chin, his gaze locked in yours, searching for clues, anything that would betray your desire to end whatever it is you're doing. "Tell me to stop now, or I won't be able to."

You don't want to stop. You should, you know you should, but you silence the little voice in your conscience that's begging you to pull yourself together, to end it all before you've even started, before you've even gone too far, and you kiss him with more vigour, with more fervour.

"I'm not going to tell you to stop, qybor," you whisper against his lips. "You know that."

His hardened member twitches beneath you at the mention of the High Valyrian, at the mention of that nickname he's so fond of. It's his weakness, you know, and despite the three years he's been away, he hasn't changed.

It's so good to feel him against you again, to feel his lips against yours, along your jawline to the junction with your neck. In one sharp movement, he rolls his hips to meet yours, pressing you a little harder against the wooden wall, and he catches your moan between his lips.

You know that tonight there will be no shy touches between you, no awkward explorations like in the early days of your love, when it wasn't tainted by war, blood, and death yet. You and he will both be consumed by the burning fire of passion.   You both need to release that tension and frustration, to make up for lost time, to drown, drunk with desire, in the most carnal of acts. All that matters now are his hands on your body to ease the pain pulsing between your thighs, the desperate need to feel him inside you. 

The barrier of your clothes frustrates you. You need to feel his skin against yours, to feel all of him, and your hand runs down his body to pull at the cord holding his breeches together. Immediately his fingers close around your wrist to hold you back. He wants to be in control, you know. But it has been three years and something about you just isn't the same.

"Let me worship you like I used to, qybor," you whisper against his lips, your forehead pressed against his, and you feel his jaw tighten. There's a moment of hesitation in his eyes, clouded by desire.

His thumb caresses your lips, pressing against your lower lip. You part them, just enough for the tip of your tongue to wet the top of his thumb. There are no further words exchanged between you, just silence, punctuated by your gasping breaths. His hand closes around your throat, not pressing too hard, just enough so you can feel the weight of his palm against your windpipe, just to remind you that he's in complete control of the situation.

Fuck, you've missed it; the adrenaline of his hand around your throat, the adrenaline of knowing he could do anything to you and you'd be defenceless.

"On your knees then."

The command echoes through the room and you feel the wetness seeping between your thighs as you slide to your knees in front of him. Your eyes shine with envy and you look up at him as you did years ago. You know he can't resist the angelic look on your face when you're between his thighs. You know he can't resist the dichotomy between the innocent look on your face and the sinful act you're about to commit.  He revels in your submission, and that's something you've learned to use against him.

Your uncle releases his cock from his breeches, his hand wrapped around the base, and the desire you feel between your thighs becomes more and more unbearable. The head is already glistening with anticipation, white pearls beading at the slit, and it takes all of Aemond's self-control not to grab you by the hair and force himself into your mouth entirely. 

Closing the distance, he rubs his member against your lips to spread the wetness before pushing into your mouth. Your lips close around him. He's warm and heavy on your tongue and the hand holding the base of his manhood is replaced by yours to cover what you can't take. Your tongue curls around the tip first, absorbing his salty taste, and you look up at him through your long lashes. He doesn't look away from you.

His hand cups your cheek, his thumb caresses your cheekbone before sliding to the corner of your lips, just where his length disappears between them. It's as if he's hypnotised by the spectacle, by the bobbing of your head, by your hollowed cheeks, by your application and devotion. 

His hands leave your jaw and sink into your thick curls, urging you to take him a little deeper, and he thrusts between your lips with more vigour. You close your eyes, concentrating on not choking as his member touches the back of your throat. You take it as diligently and assiduously as ever, ignoring the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

"That's it, just like that. Such a good girl, mandianna [niece], such a good wife," you hear him grunt, his movements more erratic, more jerky, and you revel in his praise, sending a new wave of heat between your thighs. "Only for me."

You feel him throb on your tongue. You know it won't be long now, and you prepare yourself to welcome him, to let the salty taste of his seed flood your tongue, but your uncle pulls back reluctantly. 

"I would rather not waste." he whispers, his eyes riveted on the thread of saliva that connects your lips, glistening with saliva and precum, to the tip of his cock. You shudder. Aemond definitely hasn't changed much, you realise.

His hand finds your cheek again and he caresses your lips to spread the mess you've made by sucking him. You know he isn't finished. This is just the beginning and you're both driven by the consuming hunger of passion. You know what's coming now, your core clenching around nothing, and you rub your thighs together, in an attempt to soothe the impatience. 

He urges you to stand. He has that predatory look in his eyes as he closes the distance between you with his determined steps. 

" Undress," he orders, and you do not take your eyes off him as you untie the linen dress you had put on to disguise yourself as a common girl.

The garment falls heavily to the floor, forming a grey puddle at your feet, and you take a step forward.

"Do you not like seeing me dressed in rags, qybor?" you ask in a playful tone, teasing, referring to the time, years ago, when he had rescued you during your adventurous walk along the grim Silk Road where your uncle Aegon had accidentally led you. 

The memory was so close and yet so far away.

Aemond takes a step towards you, his hand brushing aside the long hair that hides your breasts to tuck it behind your shoulder.

"Not when you are meant to be my Queen." His eye glow with desire. He studies your body in detail as his fingers slide down your collarbone to your breasts. His thumb traces their underside before moving up to your nipples, hardened by the cool evening air and desire. He plays with them, eliciting a moan that satisfies him.  He looks at you like one looking at a prize, a long-awaited gift.

"Three years away from my beautiful wife," he whispers, his good eye gleaming as he looks at your breasts.

"You did have pleasant company in Harrenhal though, didn't you?" you hiss through your teeth and Aemond's hand suddenly closes around your throat to make you swallow your insolence.  You're not afraid, not anymore, for you know he won't hurt you. You have this power over him and it's delicious. 

His face is so close to yours that your noses are touching. 

He doesn't let go of you. 

"It wasn't like that." He whispers. "With her." You know he's sincere because he's almost awkward with his words, his explanation. You can see in his eye that there are so many other things he would like to tell you, but you have learned not to rush him.  It has always been difficult for him to open up, to be vulnerable.

His fingers release you. Aemond is a good head taller than you, and as he puts a hand on your shoulder, moving forward to force you back until your knees hit the mattress, your eyes remain fixed on his. 

Your uncle lays you down on the mattress. It's not the comfort of the bed you once shared, but you don't care, you just need him inside you. 

You need him to make you feel whole again. Aemond was fire, and you were willing to burn for him.  You had always burned for him.

In the candlelight of the small bedroom where you spend the night, you see his thumbs slip under the waistband of his breeches. His clothes quickly join yours on the floor.

There's something soothing about the weight of his naked body on top of yours. Once under him, you know you can surrender completely to him and stop thinking, just stop thinking.

His lips on yours, his hands on your body, his broad torso eclipsing your smaller figure.

He places kisses down your neck to your collarbone, sucking your skin between his teeth to leave purple marks that will blossom tomorrow. 

He kisses your breast, his lips closing around an erect nipple which he sucks gently, then around the other.  Your hands are buried in his long silver hair.  You can feel how wet you are between your thighs. You need him desperately, right there.

The confidence with which his fingers slide down your waist, from your hips to your inner thighs, only emphasises his ravenous expression. His touch on your folds sends a wave of heat through your body, causing your hips to move against his hand. Softly tracing the curves of your crotch, his index and middle fingers finally part your folds to collect the wetness that has formed there.

"Is it sucking your husband's cock that has got you so wet? 

Yes, you want to answer, seeking more contact, but the words are stuck in your throat.

"Stay still," he orders in a hoarse voice as you move your hips, his hands gripping your hips to pin you back against the mattress. 

You comply, for once, because you know he won't give you what you want otherwise. And you can't wait any longer, not today, not when you thought you'd never feel his warmth against your body again, his hands on your hips, his cock inside you.

"You see, you can be a good girl." His voice is softer when you obey. And to reward you, his fingers slide to your entrance, where he applies a little pressure with the tip of his middle finger without actually penetrating you. "Now beg your husband to fill you."

"Please, qybor," you murmur, your hand taking his cheek to bring his face to yours. You want him to look at you. "Please, I need you inside."

Oh, the slowness and precision with which his finger plunges into you makes you throw your head back. He begins to move back and forth, his index finger joining his middle one, caressing your spongy walls, his thumb tracing circles around your bud. Curling his fingers, he strokes that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble and you clutch the sheets beneath you.

You feel your centre tighten around his fingers, the release you've been looking for so close, so very close. You shut your eyes, ready for the familiar wave of warmth to wash over your entire body, but your uncle pulls his fingers away. You grunt in frustration.

You open your eyes only to see Aemond bring his fingers to his lips indecently, spreading your wetness over his own lips. "You still taste so good," he purrs, and you feel the blush rise to your cheeks.

He leans over to kiss you and you taste yourself on his lips. It's indecent.

He pulls back and you see him wrap his hand around his hardened cock, the head angrily red and already drooling in anticipation. He guides himself to your core, rubbing his length between your folds, coating it with your glistening juices. 

The round tip of his member enters you, slowly at first, stretching your narrow entrance as if to give you time to adjust. Aemond pushes and he sinks easily into you until he's fully seated, your warm, wet walls feeling heavenly around him, squeezing him just right.

" You are so tight," he growls against you as your arms close around him, your legs bent and pressed to either side of his body. 

He gives you a moment to get used to having him inside you again, to feeling him so deeply. It's exactly what you need; he stretches you deliciously, with a perfect touch of controlled pain.

You feel whole again and you want to cry.  You never want to lose that feeling. You want to keep him, against you, inside you.

You close your eyes and bury your head in the hollow above his shoulder, clinging to him as if to feel him more deeply, more intimately.

"You can move," you reply, rolling your hips to support your words. Aemond's hand immediately presses down on your stomach to hold you against the mattress and you bite your lower lip, almost guilty of forgetting his earlier command. He always has that need to control. He's the one who decides, you should know it after all these years, and you should stop being so demanding, so desperate.

"I said stay still," he scolds you, and the waiting is unbearable. 

You need him. 

When he finally pulls out and thrusts into you again, you let out a whimper. Your nails dig into the pale skin of his back, leaving crescent marks that will probably still be there the next day.

Once under him, Aemond has the ability to make you vulnerable, and part of you hate him for it.

"You take me so well," he growls after a particularly brutal thrust. "You're such a good girl."

The praise is sweet music to your ears.  You have always needed it, to be praised, complimented.

You feel him hitting that special spot deep inside you, you feel him pressing in so deeply and your grip tightens around him.

"Did you miss me?" you whisper in a voice made weak by pleasure, but all you get in return are the hoarse grunts of his voice.

Aemond lowers his eyes to look at where you are joined, hypnotised by the sight of his cock disappearing inside you. The rhythm he imposes is powerful, deep, and his fingers find their way between your bodies, reaching your little bud at the top of your folds to trace circles on it. You won't last long and he knows it as he feels your walls tighten desperately around him. Your moans grow louder.

"Look at me." His voice barely brings you back to reality, even though your mind is already far away, even though you know you can't last much longer. Painfully, you open your eyes to meet your uncle's icy gaze. " I am going to fill you up." His pacing becomes more erratic, more sloppy, and you know he won't last much longer either. Leaning on his forearm, he continues to stroke your pearl in small circles. "I am going to fill you up and you're going to take it all."

The image of you, belly round with his child, haunts him.  It never stopped haunting him, even on the brink of death, even when he thought he'd exhaled his last breath as he fell into the icy waters of the lake, his heart clenched with regret and remorse. It still is a wonder that he has survived. Perhaps, just perhaps, the Gods still had plans for him.

I'm going to fill you up. Words like that shouldn't bring you to ecstasy, and yet they do. Aemond reaches deeper, and as he feels your whole body convulse with the spasms of your orgasm, he joins you in your release. He spills his seed deep inside you before remaining still, buried against your womb, enjoying your warmth, making sure he's pouring every last drop into you. 

He doesn't want to pull out, not yet, and you close your arms around his neck, your breast pressed against his chest as he softens inside you.

The weight of his body on yours is comforting.  For the first time in years, you feel alive. For the first time in years, the open wound he left seems to be healing.

When he pulls out, you wince at the sensation of his cock slipping between your still too sensitive folds. You immediately miss the feeling of fullness. 

You barely move, your whole body still sore from your lovemaking, but you can feel his cum leaking from your entrance onto the mattress below.

Again, Aemond's fingers are between your thighs that are glistening with the intimate essence of both of you, collecting his own seed and pushing it back into you.  You whimper, still too sensitive, your lips brushing against his, and he remains inside you for a brief moment. He wants to make sure nothing is wasted.

And when he withdraws his fingers, he presses them against your lips for you to clean them.

You snuggle up against him, your head against his chest. Your hand caresses his chest, the fine line of his muscles, and he rests his chin on the top of your head, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you close. You enjoy the warmth of his body while you still can. Between your thighs you feel the sticky sensation of his seed mixing with your wetness as it still flows out of you, but you don't want to leave the embrace of his arms.

"I saw you in the gardens. With the child."

When you feel his throat vibrate, you look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed. "It was you, then?" You swallow. "It was you watching me." It's more of an observation than a question, and you suddenly understand that constant, uncomfortable feeling of being watched. At least you weren't crazy. 

He lets out a hm and pauses.

"Is he yours?"

You know where this question is leading. You fear the moment of truth.  You'd deluded yourself into thinking you could avoid it, but you were naive; did you really think you could hide the truth from him for much longer, now that he was back?

"Yes." You answer, looking away. You're nervous, and he can feel it.

"He's Cregan Stark's son, isn't he?"

Your heart clenches. You hesitate for a moment. You should lie.  You know you should lie.  To protect your son and your family, as you've protected them for the past three years.  You only need one word.

You hear him sighing beneath you, taking your silence as confirmation.

"No, he's not." 

The words leave your lips before you can even stop them. You hold your breath. Beneath you, Aemond tenses. He straightens, puzzled, silent.

"A bastard, then?" His voice is dry, almost mocking, revealing a form of irritation. "I did not expect this from you, dear niece." Disappointment.

You feel anger boiling inside you at the thought of him insulting your son, your sweet boy you love so much. You swallow the lump that has formed in your throat and rise on your forearms, your eyebrows furrowed as you turn your hard gaze on him.

You don't know how to express the words that are desperately trying to escape your lips. 

" He has blue eyes," you add, and you can see the confusion on his face. A lock of hair slips from your shoulder and falls around your face. "Your blue eyes."

You feel him tense up. He says nothing, just stares at you with his one seeing eye.  It's rare to see Aemond Targaryen so unsure of himself, so full of doubt. He stares at you as if he's afraid he's heard you wrong, as if he's afraid he's invented the words that have come out of your mouth.

"What did you say?"

You look away. You bite your lower lip, regretting your words.  You want to bury your face in his chest. You breath. 

"He is your son, Aemond." You finally admit it.

It's true that Rhaegar's brown curls could easily make him look like a Stark. Cregan had offered to raise him as his own, and you had smiled at his kindness.

Rhaegar is so much like you. Like you, and like Luke, and especially like Jace as a child, of whom he is the spitting image. He has the soft features of your face, but his eyes make him undeniably Aemond's son.

Your uncle holds you close, his arm wrapped around your waist, his long nose buried in the hollow of your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair.

"My son," he repeats in awe.  It's rare to see Aemond smile with sincerity.  Especially after the war has worn him down, made him more ruthless than ever.

"His name is Rhaegar," you say. "Just as we discussed." There's shyness in your voice.

He straightens, you on top, straddling him, and he seeks your lips to kiss you fiercely. His desire awakens beneath you; you feel him harden against your core again.

And this time, he makes love to you.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

"I missed the best part." He purrs against you, his hand absently caressing your breast before sliding down your body to rest on your flat stomach, just above where your womb lies. He clenches his hand possessively over your flesh. His voice is almost tinged with regret. Your hand rests on his.

"You shouldn't have left me," you reply, bitter. Deep down, you're still angry with him. Your gaze falls on your stomach, where both your hands lie, yours on top of his, clasped together. "You shouldn't have let your anger dictate your actions," you add, looking away. "But you were blinded by your desire for revenge, by your desire to prove that you could be better than him.” You swallow.

It is his fault, after all, that he missed your son's birth, that he didn't see him grow through the tender years of his infancy.

Rhaegar needed a father, and it was Cregan who raised him.

"Does he even know who I am? Who his father is?"

The guilty look on your face betrays you, and you know immediately that you've hurt his feelings. It may be selfish of you, but he needs to understand.

"You were supposed to be dead. There's still a lot he doesn't know." 

He doesn't say anything. You don't have the courage to meet his hard, stern gaze, you don't have the courage to see the disappointment and pain on his face, because if you do, your heart will tighten and you will fall apart.

"He's still so young. Give him time." You add, your fingers tracing small circles on the back of his hand, in an attempt to soothe him. 

You know how much Aemond wanted a son, and you know it's cruel to take that from him.  You know he would have made a good father. You can picture him with Rhaegar on his knee, reading him stories, telling him about the adventures of Vhagar and Visenya, and you love the image that forms in your mind.

You told Rhaegar about Aemond, though he was still too young to understand. You told him that his father had once owned the greatest dragon in the world, that his father was a fearless man for it was true, and you saw his big eyes light up. 

Aemond pulls you closer to him. "I want to be there for him, you know."  Unlike Viserys, but he doesn't have to say it, you understand what he means in the undertone he leaves at the end of his sentence.  He has always suffered from his father's indifference.

You cuddle up to him and he runs his fingers through your long curls. For a moment, you imagine that everything is fine and you search for his touch. He plants a kiss on the top of your head.

"I've missed you," he admits, the words landing on the tips of his lips in the silence of the bedroom, but you're already dozing off.

You know that tomorrow will be made up of choices and decisions. 

But for now, you fall asleep in the embrace of his very real arms, for once, enjoying the illusion of the life you both could have had.

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #Aemond Targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fic #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x niece!reader #aemond targaryen fanfic

[ms0milk]

𝐀 𝐇𝐘𝐌𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 || 𝐦.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

On a diplomatic trip far from home, Prince Bakugou must contend with his hatred for you. A woman who lives to take orders. The last thing the warrior prince needs is a babysitter but it’s a feat, not a coincidence, that you are the only apprentice to the captain of his royal guard. Feasts, balls, and festivities await you and your new friends at Takoba, and in the seaside kingdom you must reconcile with the idea that your prince is not so noble as the queen who raised him. All while something half dead and long forgotten festers on high tide.

𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 [𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔] prince!bakugou x royal guard!(fem) reader, slow burn to eventual smut. y/n has a personality and it is business formal, she grows. individual chapters will have specific tags-warnings-ratings— in general please expect violence/descriptions of injuries, strong language, two aloof fools, the classic motley bnha crew, seaside shenanigans. bakugou is an absolute piece of work, y/n is professional to a fault and it drives him insane. travel companions ー civil teammates ー genuine enemies ー confused friends ー lovers. plenty of ridiculous tension accompanied by angst and 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄

❂ ー 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 this story has been my baby over the past few months (was this a direct response to mha ch 362? yes) — so I hope you cherish it as much as I do. I am not immune to roy/riza (fmab) and many of the dynamics in this au are heavily inspired by their relationship! just gotta build up that trust first (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ be prepared to absolutely hurtle this man out of harm's way TAGLIST | AO3

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈

𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆. ✦

You terrify him and it breaks his heart.

𝒐𝒏𝒆. 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩

In the warm forests of Aldera Castle you and the prince grew up in periphery. A soldier without magic and the boy who never spoke to her. Suddenly, he is your only responsibility.

𝒕𝒘𝒐. 𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞, 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

With the first day of travel under your belt and introductions well collected, your Alderan company finds time to unwind together. Thankfully, nothing bad ever happens around a campfire.

𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆. 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝

Are all carriages of the east made for prisoners of war? Prince Bakugou despises the close quarters and their snagging silver fixtures, but it is a special kind of fate that would deliver you to the safety of the sea and to the feet of the fire that bars your entrance. And deliver you together at that.

𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓. 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞

Hats off to dying!

𝒇𝒊𝒗𝒆. 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

What a vivid dream you’ve made, of the prince and his heavy hands wrapped around your body.

𝒔𝒊𝒙. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐨𝐛𝐚

It is at exactly the wrong moment that you realize where all the guards have gone, and just how desperate you must appear for the prince to take such pleasure in destruction.

𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏. 𝐡𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭

Would he treat you this way in the presence of others? Is it only when you're alone that hell raises?

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈

𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕. 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 & 𝐭𝐰𝐨.)

In the immortal words of your prince, this was a dogshit idea for a dinner party. You are haunted by blue flames and scarred ghosts no matter how hard you focus on work, and a punishment for your distraction is in order.

𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒆. 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐭

He has no right– your prince is a hypocrite and alone in a haunted seaside garden confrontation is, finally, inevitable.

𝒕𝒆𝒏. 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐟𝐨𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 & 𝐭𝐰𝐨.)

You will eat the flame mage alive before he lays a finger on your prince, but why gods has Bakugou chosen now to fear for you? To treat you so gently?

𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏. 𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

Thirty-one hours awake and every second spent thinking of you.

𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆. 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫

Gods help anyone that might try to hurt you, even if that person is the ocean, or a god– even if that person is you. You finally find your prince's bedchambers after a fight at sea.

𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐳𝐤𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐠

The end of your fever comes with realizations. What happens when two people unable to speak stand too close for too long?

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈

𝒇𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

You always think you're well enough to train and if Bakugou has to tie you to a hospital bed himself he will, but he doesn't mean to watch you win for so long and he certainly doesn't mean to join you.

𝒇𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧

Can devotion come before forgiveness? can you control it? the last two sober Alderans carry their friends to bed.

𝒔𝒊𝒙𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬

You don’t mean to bite him, he startled you. You don’t mean to laugh together or beam about magic that is not yours. You do not mean to kiss him.

𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒆𝒏. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥

(3/11)

#wanna be tagged? #leave a nice comment or fill out my taglist form! #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #mha #mha fantasy au #mha x reader #bnha #bnha fantasy au #bnha x reader #fantasy bakugou #fantasy bakugo #a hymn to black water

[exhuastedpigeon]

Buddie Hiatus Fic Rec - Month 8 Nov 16 - Dec 15

Previous lists under the cut at the bottom

0-5k

merle said mama tried, but the prison still won by oklahoma / @sunshinediaz Teen | 2.9k Eddie goes to (mall) jail.

do you love me? all you gotta do is say yes by fleetinghearts / @shitouttabuck Teen | 3.1k two boy best friends and an ex lover walk into a grocery store. everyone is on their normalest behaviour.

drawstrings by browney3dgirl6 / @hoodie-buck Mature | 3.7k Eddie helps Buck fix his drawstrings. How was he supposed to know it’d lead to him sitting in Bucks lap?

Here Comes the Jackpot Question In Advance by lamardeuse / @lamardeuse Teen | 4.1k Buck is determined to start the new year right.

5k-10k

I'm still standing in the same place where you left me standing by trysetmeonfire / @try-set-me-on-fire Teen | 8.3k Bobby deals with the ramifications of a misplaced confession

10k-20k

Don't Push Me So Far Away I Can't Reach You by giselleslash. / @gigi-gigi Mature | 12k the one where Buck thinks he and Eddie are just friends with benefits so he pushes Eddie to date other people because he’s an idiot.

give it to someone special by rainbow_nerds / @rainbow-nerdss Mature | 12.3k Buck and Eddie meet at the airport after their respective girlfriends live their Hallmark movie dreams and dump them right before Christmas.

into thirty separate parts by hammersmiths / @henswilsons Teen | 12.6k Taylor’s book comes out.

sang to the sea for feelings deep blue by Tizniz / @tizniz General audiences | 14k The 118 responds to a cruise ship emergency.

20k - 30k

say (don't) go by bccalling / @fiona-fififi Teen | 20.4k Eddie starts dropping hints he wants more kids. Buck assumes he means with Marisol. Buck spirals about it. Eddie does not mean with Marisol.

deck the halls (and your in-laws) by oklahoma / @sunshinediaz Mature | 29.6k Eddie and Buck, recently married and moved into their new house, have the (dis)pleasure of unexpectedly hosting their parents through the holiday season. It’s not what either of them want or need, but they can get through it because they’re in this together. Right?

30k +

Facets of a Diamond by countrygirlsfun / @acountrygirlsfun Teen | 35.1k Southern California is where Buck has spent the most time since leaving Pennsylvania. Of all the places he’s lived and worked over the last few years, this place is where he decided to stay. It’s why he picked LAFD: to put down some roots. It’s warm, has the ocean, and it’s the opposite coast of his parents. So if he’s going to be here for a while, he thinks he’ll need to make an effort to let people in.

Sweet Nothing by LongConvolutedSimiles Teen | 37.8k Buck and Eddie go on dates, fall in love and get together. Yes in that order.

Maybe More Than I Should by Leslie_Knope Mature | 51.5k Eddie caught sight of the man leaning against the side of his desk and immediately wanted to retreat to the relative safety of the hallway, back in time when he lived happily not knowing that Mr. Buckley was apparently some kind of male model masquerading as a third-grade teacher.

it walks with my legs (to fall at your feet) by Underhung_Aura / @eddiebabygirldiaz Explicit | 61.8k a buddie summer sons au where buck and eddie get caught up in something bigger than themselves and awaken a power that haunts them for the rest of their lives; however, the unspoken truths and love between them haunts them more than any ghost ever could.

a blaze in the dark by woodchoc_magnum / @woodchoc-magnum Explicit | 117k Set post-Season 6, where Buck has inadvertently sacrificed his friendship with Eddie in order to focus on his new relationship with Natalia, and is shocked when Eddie comes out to the team and subsequently reveals that he is dating a guy.

All My Shattered Oaths by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels / @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels Explicit | 120k Eddie wants to stay away from his family’s legacy and give his son a normal life. Buck’s desperate to find a way to get over the love he lost. Fate has other plans for both of them.

Month 1 (May 15 - June 15) Month 2 (June 16 - July 15) Month 3 (July 16 - August 15) Month 4 (August 16 - September 15) Month 5 (September 16 - October 15) Month 6 (October 16 - November 15) Month 7 (November 16 - December 15)

#buddie #rec list #buddie rec list #911 #only a couple more lists to go #AND ONLY FOUR MORE SLEEPS UNTIL THE SEASON PREMIER

[lovefrombegonia]

tw // ghost, nightmare, haunting, gore

My PIDW headcanon: Luo Binghe is haunted by the "ghost" of Shen Jiu. Not...as in, there is really a ghost. Or you can think there is one. Either way is fine. But I like to think of it as Shen Jiu's memories still haunting him.

Sometimes, when LBH is alone in his chamber, he is unable to sleep, he can hear the subtle clinking of the chains. The sounds are there but at the same time, not. Sometimes, when he is enjoying wine, he can still smell the rotting stench of blood, waste and gore that he has learnt to associate with SQQ's prison.

One time, he had a horrible dream of being stuck in the woodshed again. He woke up, and walked around his study. He did it quietly, so that he won't wake up the wife he was bedding that night. In his study, he was pacing back and forth, when he thought he saw something at the corner of the door. He froze. Horrified. But that was just for a second. He could clearly see now. Nothing is there. But...he could have sworn, he saw a rotten figure peeking at him from the corner of the door, with chains and tattered clothes hanging, tangled with long, dirty hair. He could have sworn he saw the head peeking from the upper left corner. But it's not there now. Nothing is there.

Sometimes, when he is walking through his palace corridors alone, his royal robes dragging on the beautiful marble floor, he could hear the sound of the clothes dragging change just a bit, change into the dragging of a body dragging itself only by one hand. Every time he stops and turns around. Nothing is there. He is alone.

Sometimes, when he is making love, as he is lost in the throws of passion, he thinks that the lustful moans of his wives sound a bit too close to the painful grunts of his former shizun. He wants to stop right then and there. But he doesn't want to disappoint his wives. So, he keeps going.

He was alone in the large bath, the warm water and steam lulling him into sleep. It has been a long day. The royal court was brutal. The rebellions were suppressed but debates still felt unending. His eye lids were getting heavier. He felt so comfortable, so sleepy, he was already half-asleep, vision getting blurry. He was alone in the bath that could easily fit five. Eyes closing by themselves...blink...he is alone. Blink...it's a struggle to stay awake. Blink...he closes his eyes. He hears his voice. "Little beast." He is not alone. The water reeks. He opens his eyes. A mutilated corpse in the bath water, chained, limbless, staring at him. LBH startles awake so bad, he splashes water everywhere. He is gasping for air. He is alone in the bath and the water is warm. He is safe. He can still smell the rot though.

He decides to visit the prison again. He knows for sure that Shen Qingqiu is dead. He was dead the last time he saw him. He is dead now. So...he doesn't understand why he feels like when he opens the door, his shizun will be standing there, ready to insult him again. Why he felt like when he opens the door, he will be back in the woodshed. He opens the door. There he is, hanging uselessly in chains and dead, very much dead. LBH walks close to the corpse, just to be sure, checks for signs of life. The corpse is already being eaten by maggots. Skin rotten black and green. His shizun doesn't even look human, he is well on his way to become a skeleton. LBH thinks of feeding the corpse to sowers. After he performs an exorcism. Just in case. That's when he hears it from behind. The sound of a fan opening in one fluid motion. He turns around immediately! Hand on xin mo's hilt! But no one is there. LBH heart beat is racing, and he wants to just get out of there now. He must be losing his mind. Shizun is dead. He is DEAD. He is the emperor of all three realms now. He has nothing to fear from a stupid STUPID PATHETIC GHOST, EVEN IF HE IS REAL!! He calms himself down. He is gonna feed the corpse to beasts and burn this room. Seal it off, and never return. He will give the orders today--the sound of chains moving is now undeniable, he can hear it CLEARLY. Whatever is left behind, it's moving. LBH can feel its stare, picture it like all this is happening right in front of him. This time..the sounds don't go away. The cold dread doesn't go away. It is alive. It is grunting, croaking, almost trying to say something, raising its head. LBH... doesn't turn around. Doesn't look back. He runs. He dashes out of the room in almost maddening fear, and orders the first servant he comes across to seal the prison door. LBH walks as fast as he could without running to his private chamber, and finds Qiu Haitang there. He goes to her and embraces her. Trying to find some solace in her arms. QHT could smell the stench of death on her husband but she ignores it. He is clearly in distress, so, she tries to comfort him. Binghe has tears in his eyes, he hugs her tightly as she rubs his back. Suddenly, his pushes her away in shock. QHT is startled too. Her beloved is staring at her with fear in his eyes. She ignores the hurt she felt and coaxes him like he is a child, trying to ask what happened. He doesn't say that he heard the heavy chains clinking on her wrist when she was rubbing his back.

When he comes back from the other world with a "kind shizun", he walks straight towards shen qingqiu's prison, and smashes open the sealed door. Nothing is there. The room is completely clean, no track of blood or torture. LBH almost thinks that he went to the wrong prison. Sha Hualing followed him after she heard the commotion. SHL asks, her voice laced with hesitation and worries, "What is it, my love?"

LBH: "Where...where is he? Did I enter the wrong room?"

He sounds...genuinely confused which further scares SHL. "Binghe...?", she holds his face gently and says,"My lord, you ordered to feed the remains to the beasts and scrub this room clean as if nothing has ever happened here last month... remember?" LBH... doesn't answer for a while. Just stared at SHL with a dumbfounded expression. Then, "oh...yes. Yes, I-It must have escaped my mind." He smiles at her but it doesn't reach his eyes.

That night he swears that he sees his shizun's torn body, still bound in chains, swinging slowly at the corner of his eyes as if the chains itself have grown sentient and replaced his limbs. But every time he turns around, nothing is there. As he tries to fall asleep in Ning Yingying's arms, he swears that sometimes her light snores turn into his shizun's croaking sound every time he is just on the edge of falling asleep.

#luo bingge whump #luo bingge #pidw luo binghe #pidw headcanon #shen jiu as ghost #or is he? #open to interpretations #headcanon #shen jiu #original shen qingqiu #this doesn't ruin luo bingge but dies affect his mental health imo #luo binghe #svsss headcanon #svsss #pidw #i don't think that sj ghost is real coz i like to think that he has alrdy passed on & is together with his qi-ge in their afterlife

[nuctoria]

So. I got an idea. And as some can guess it involved our favourite little green plumber and his villain trio. No idea how to title this so feel free to drop down any ideas.

Here's the story:

King Boo is once again sitting in this damned prison after his third failure with the hotel, bored out of his mind and only listening to that insufferable professor's and Luigi's conversation since even his schemes for when he got out of here again wasn't helping him pass the time. By this point he knew he'd be free again, that old coot's days are numbered and it shows all too well with him constantly giving him the chance to escape.

Those two weren't talking about anything too interesting which led to King Boo only half-listening to what they were saying, not interested in the professor's new invention or Luigi updating Egadd on Mario's newest adventure. Until he heard this.

The professor suddenly asked Luigi about any adventures that particularly stuck with him since he had joined Mario on such adventures a couple of times and often led to a battle against Bowser and new enemies. Luigi thought about it and told him about Pi'illo Island and about the Bat King named Antasma, how he and his brother fought him in the Dream World and all the other crazy stuff that followed.

King Boo grew even more interested when the professor asked about any other, how Luigi thought about it once again and suddenly looked conflicted and tense. The professor asked if he was OK and the green plumber replied that he didn't want to talk about it but Egadd urged him, more interested than ever. With great reluctance and a much more frightened tone, Luigi said that something occurred a couple of years back and it was so awful that it couldn't even be called an adventure and the enemy that was fought was nothing but pure evil. King Boo waited in anticipation as Egadd asked for a name and with great trouble, Luigi uttered ever so quietly the name.

Dimentio.

The conversation ended right at that moment and it gave King Boo time to think again. His mind was scheming like never before. From what he heard, both of those villains were dead, most likely in the Underwhere. That was fine, he had no problem roaming around there freely and he could find a way to smuggle them out. This could possibly be it. This could be his chance to finally have his revenge on that green wretched that has humiliated him so much. He'd make him suffer and not even death would set him free him his wrath.

A wicked grin appeared on King Boo's face and a crazed shiny appeared in his eyes as the plan grew more and more detailed, more horrifying, more real.

Prepare yourself Luigi, because the ghosts of your past are coming back to haunt you once more.

----------

So, what do you guys think?

@istadris @jell-o101 @itsavee4117 @keakruiser

#luigi #luigi's mansion #mario & luigi dream team #spm #King boo #Antasma #Dimentio #Writing idea #Vana writes

[the-24-7-lawlu-library]

Poll Vote Enemies To Lovers

Hi lovely readers, I wish you all a great weekend <3

The Tides That Bind Us by lululawlawlu (M)

It comes to Luffy in recurring dreams—sometimes as clouded visions, sometimes clear as the tropical waters it supposedly rests in. The minute details are ever-changing as the tides, but one thing is always constant—a red string coiled around his finger. It leads him down into the depths of the ocean, pulls him toward the thrill of discovering the holy grail of sunken ships. What was once the pirate king’s is now waiting for him, so what is he waiting for?

fighting tides and chasing you by aloas (T)

Law drops his hand as he watches Luffy escaping, slipping through Law’s fingers once again. His figure grows smaller as the distance between them gets bigger, and yet Law is far from disappointed. This is only their 19th encounter, and Law knows there will always be a next time.

Through the Night by Sakuya_Serenity_Kira (T)

Law saved him. Law really knew, why he saved Luffy, why he had no choice to do so. And all he wanted was to stay with him. But of course, there was no chance. Only for a few days... he tried to carry his heart.

You wreck my plan, I wreck 'you' by KalonThorn (E)

A game of cat and mouse between two outlaws, where no one knows until the end who the mouse in this is.

The Duelists by KalonThorn (E)

Luffy decides to join the dueling club, where he meets one of the biggest prodigies in Hogwarts' history - Trafalgar D. Water Law. They soon begin to butt heads with each other, trying to up one another not only in spell-casting, but also in pranks and other insane stunts. 

Solar Eclipse by quackquackcey (E)

The story of the Hero and the Villain, and the accidental meeting that changed everything.~

Enchanted Ink and Devil's Helmet by quackquackcey (E)

A normal evening during closing hours of Luffy’s tattoo parlor turns sour, and somehow, two bitter rivals-turned-enemies are roped into a supernatural rollercoaster of a night, in which an old ghost comes to haunt them once again.~

Cats and Dogs, or Rather, Ducks by quackquackcey (M)

A story of how two people, who fight like cats and dogs, realize that perhaps, opposites really do attract. Or something like that.~

I hate you, at least I think I do by Anonymous (T)

Luffy and Law can't stand eachother they never could it was like oil and water till well, things change.

Prison of Deception by Orphan_Account (NR)

Luffy, a captain in the Marines, is tasked with guarding and interrogating the pirate prisoner, Trafalgar Law.

Alice, Alice, Don't You Know? by All_My_Characters_Are_Dead (T)

“You let your secret lesser hellhound eat the hat with your secret griffin feathers inside the lining, and you let your secret fireball brother send your stupid Alice brother with the hound?” Law shouted. “What the fuck, Sabo? How am I supposed to get your feathers out of Sunny and back to you without tipping off your brother?” “I’m sure you’ll think of something. That’s why you’re the best, Law. Better think fast, because I waited until he was five minutes out to call you. Thanks, Law!” There was a beep as Sabo hung up, and Law stared at the phone for five full seconds to process and scream internally instead of externally.

Sweets by Skypiea_Lulu (G)

Law hates his neighbor, he is loud, annoying and obnoxious, the problem is that he has to start socializing with him, but not in the way he expected.

The Alpha, the Omega, and everything in between by N_Moonbreeze (E)

The World Nobles were the only Alphas. The Omegas were their appointed servants, fit only to give up their bodies. The Omegas were to be given away and the non-existent Alphas to hide away. These are the ironclad rules of their world. After meeting one Monkey D. Luffy, Alpha Law ultimately decides that he doesn't actually give a shit about said rules. Until the same man, barely coherent on his operating table, utters one word that throws his whole world out of balance. "...alpha!"

-Mod Raiya

#lawlu #lulaw #monkey d luffy #trafalgar law #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #fantasy au #modern au #canon divergence #Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics

[doumadono]

For shonen sonnets! Can I please ask for something sad with Dabi? ilysm doll ❤️

SHONEN SONNETS

Touya Todoroki, a silhouette of sorrow, Yearning for a brighter, uncertain tomorrow. In the abyss of his struggle, shadows persist, A tale of woe, where the heart can't resist.

In the mirror, he meets a fractured reflection, Haunted by the weight of familial rejection. A quest for freedom from an oppressive reign, Yet yearning for a warmth that's drowned in pain.

A father's tyranny, a brother's icy touch, A legacy of torment that hurt him too much. Yet, within the storm that raged deep within, Touya clung to a desire, an urge to win.

A family fractured, shattered like ice, Touya yearned for freedom, a distant paradise. His father's chains, a relentless vice, A burden so heavy that soul paid the price.

Visions of liberation danced in his dreams, Of severing ties, breaking silent screams. A burning desire, tearing at the seams, To escape the prison of familial schemes.

His heart, a battleground, a war waged within, Against the ghosts of the past, a tale of sin. But shadows deepen, as he walks a lonely road, Haunted by the echoes of a familial abode.

Moonbeams caress his anguished face, Reflections of pain in a desolate space. A symphony of sorrow in the midnight air, As he grapples with demons, an endless affair.

#doumadonos shonen sonnets 🌸 #my poetry #poems on tumblr #short poetry #my poems #spilled ink #poems and poetry #dabi #dabi angst #touya Todoroki #endeavor #bnha dabi #mha poems #mha angst #dabi mha #dabi my hero academia

[transdunbar]

for @thiamappreciationweek day 2: season 6

It made sense that Theo should skip town after the Ghost Rider incident. Why wouldn’t he? The pack had made it pretty clear that he had no place in Beacon Hills, and that his past actions were unforgivable even in the best of contexts. So, with no friends or emotional ties to anything in town, it was only logical that he put the too-cheery “Welcome to Beacon Hills!” sign as far behind him as possible.

So why was he still here, lingering in his truck on the side of some road smack in the middle of town?

The answer, he realized with a sigh, was in a house across the street, in a bedroom with one window facing the road. The answer had blue, blue eyes that haunted Theo’s dreams, brown hair that was getting long enough to curl behind the ears, and an inability to leave the chimera’s thoughts. The answer had raised him from the skinwalker prison, had broken the only thing that could send him back, and then fought beside him against the horde of undead cowboys. The answer had done more for him than anyone else in his life had, and he probably didn’t even realize he was doing it.

Even this far away from Liam’s room, the beta’s scent still drifted down towards Theo, filling his nose with the faintest trace of Old Spice and something spicy that nothing could ever fully cover up— Liam’s natural scent. Theo sighed, rubbing a hand over his face in exasperation.

He didn’t know what kept drawing him to Liam. Every time he tried to leave, he found himself here, parked outside of the Geyer residence. Somehow it always came back to Liam. The obvious reason was a mix of chemicals that Theo thought his brain was incapable of making anymore, but he had never been one to accept things at face value. Whatever the reason was, it had him suffering through the incessant tapping of deputies on his window as he tried to sleep, had him second guessing where to park for the night, had him going out of his way to avoid the rest of the McCall pack, even after he risked his life for them (again), all to apparently keep an eye on Liam whenever he could.

A light flickered on in Liam’s bedroom, and Theo looked up to see the beta come into the frame of his window. He was dressed only in a pair of sweatpants, checking his phone and brushing his teeth at the same time while he paced around his room. The scene was so domestic, and filled Theo’s chest with a sense of longing, the likes of which he had never felt before. His stolen heart skipped a beat at the thought of sharing a domestic life with Liam, of brushing their teeth in their shared bathroom while they get ready for bed together. It was such a weird fantasy, something Theo had never wanted before, but still it existed, and now was permanently lodged into a small part of his brain that he refused to acknowledge in the daylight.

Theo waited until Liam’s back was turned, then started the truck and sped off down the road. He may feel like a giant creep, but he didn’t need Liam to see him and think he was one. The farther away from Liam’s house he got, the less his scent lingered, and the worse he felt. He tried to convince himself it was the sleep deprivation, or his diet of gas station food and pre-packaged snacks, but he knew enough about the human body that he wasn’t able to convince himself that the ache in his chest was from a physical cause instead of an emotional one. He wanted to turn around, to climb through Liam’s never-locked window and tell him… He wasn’t sure what he would say to Liam, but he squashed the urge nonetheless and kept driving.

Later, when he looked out the driver’s side window and found himself staring down the barrel of a hunter’s gun, he wished he had had the strength to tell Liam something, even if he had no idea what his heart wanted him to say. At least then he wouldn’t be taking this knot in his chest to the grave with him. 

#theo raeken #liam dunbar #thiam #thiamweek23 #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fanfic

[destieltaggedfic]

Christmas Fics - Part 4

Its December so while I remember lets bang out some festive storys.

Holidate – Kitmistry   Ao3

AU.  Strangers Dean and Cas meet in a bar on Christmas Eve having disappointed their families with not being in relationships.  They agree to be each other’s fake date for future holidays and along the way they get to know each other.  Loosely based on the Netflix film The Holidate

Word Count: 35k                              No Sex

The Haunting of the Hilltop Mall – Speary   Ao3

Nonspecific timeframe.  Team Free Will are undercover in a mall in the Christmas Season hunting a ghost.  Their store?  Massage Therapy, something that Cas is surprisingly good at.  But living in close quarters is stirring up tensions between Dean and Cas.

Word Count: 37k                              Non-Graphic Sex 

Merry Christmas, Dean Winchester – frecklesandwings   Ao3

Set S12.  Stuck in prison, Dean still gets a little bit of Christmas when Cas visits him in his dreams.

Word Count: 1k                                 No Sex

Invocation – xylodemon   Ao3

Set S11 AU.  In the wake of Amara being dealt with, Cas has wandered back to heaven.  In the lead-up to Christmas, Dean prays to Cas a lot.

Word Count: 4k                                 Non-Graphic Sex

The Twelve Days (Or Is It Years?) Of Christmas – MittenWraith   Ao3

Set S12.  Mary wants to celebrate the holiday season and leaves Dean and Cas in charge of decorating the bunker.  Unfortunately, what looks like an old decoration enacts a spell when they touch it, now they keep waking up to pear trees and a growing number of birds.

Word Count: 15k                              Graphic Sexual Acts

#destiel #fic recs #christmas fics

[imrockbottom]

Fanfic Rec List

Some of the fics I've loved most since the start of the year and my 2024 Fanfic Reading Challenge.

The Reanimator of Rosemerrow

by Cap_Sweet_And_Salty_Sadness (@cap-sweet-and-salty-sadness); Geraskier, E, 34855 words

In 1819, Jaskier accidentally buys an old abandoned inn in the middle of nowhere, England. Haunted, as if this mountain of dust and debris wasn't already enough of a problem. At least he has a handsome carpenter to help him renovate it.

briar & bone

by griesly, inflomora and Lama; Steddie, E, 44590 words

Ten years ago, jaded rock star Eddie Munson made a terrible mistake. Cursed by a fae to take a hideous, bestial form, he retreats from the world into a mansion in the middle of nowhere, while the curse begins to spread. Stranded in a snowstorm after a car accident, Steve Harrington is forced to seek shelter in the house every child in Hawkins knows and fears. What he finds inside will change the course of his life - and the monster within.

That Which Dwells At Ash Manor

by frankie_31, Steter, E, 23392 words

After agreeing to a marriage of convenience to save Peter Hale's reputation and his own father's coffers, Stiles finds himself Lord of Hale Manor. He is met by a strange collection of folk within the gloomy manor and a widowed omega who wants little to do with him. Stiles is stranded in a trap of his own making, a prisoner to the peculiar, storm-razed lands of the Hale estate and to the frightening manor within which something secret and dark lies. Stiles navigates the turbulent family within the manor while chasing the ghosts that haunt it's halls. Love is not anything he expected to find in his dark, vicious omega and Stiles begins to think he never will.

Custom Made

by stfustucky (@stfustucky); Geraskier, E, 122787 words

Jaskier was kidnapped by Cat witchers, mutated and trained into the perfect sex slave. He comes into Geralt's possession completely by accident and Geralt swears that he would never take advantage of Jaskier that way... except that somewhere in the midst of all the mutations done to him, Jaskier's body has stopped craving sex and starts needing it. When he begs that beautifully, when he smells that tantalizing, there's really no choice but for Geralt to give Jaskier everything he wants.

Shackles

by LadyInStarlight; Radiodust, E, 44214 words

Angel is mortified when Charlie approaches him and suggests that maybe his…flirtations…are making Alastor uncomfortable. Naturally, he stops. After all, there’s nothing more embarrassing than chasing a man who isn’t all that into you. Alastor doesn’t take kindly to being ignored. Smut ensues.

Laufey's Mate/ Ice Maiden/ Laufey's Bride (It wound up with three titles)

by Icemaidenstory; Laufey/Loki, E, 135371 words

Loki was born right at the end of the war and was given to Laufey as his betrothed. That's why he is marked with Laufey's family scars, it was a part of the ceremony. The final stage of their marriage is the consummation which would have happened when Loki came of age. Then Odin showed up, totally misread the scars and took Loki away. Fast forward to the events of the movie, only this time Laufrey sees Loki get grabbed and turn blue. He realises what has happened and grabs Loki off the battlefield to claim him before Thor figures out what is going on.

Dereliktion

by AMidnightDreary; Frostiron, E, 203592 words

When the second prince buys him as his personal pleasure slave, Tony is quite certain that he's fucked. It goes both better and worse than he expects.

Echo

by ravenbringslight (@kingthunder); Geraskier, E, 29599 words

Jaskier loses his voice the morning after a concert. As he and Geralt find new ways to fill the silence between them, they realize it isn't only Jaskier's voice that's been lost—and getting it back will bring them closer than they've ever been before.

5 Times Dream Was a Complete Weirdo About Wanting Intimate Contact + 1 Time He Actually Asks Like An Adult

by YarvaDaemonicusEtrigan; Dreamling, E, 16357 words

Dream has noticed that Hob likes to absently play with fidget/sensory toys. Dream would like to be played with too. Dream is bad at articulating his wants and needs. Things get stupid, but fortunately, Hob is very indulgent and open minded. In other words; this is total crack fic about Dream manifesting different stim toys as his junk so Hob will touch him. Enjoy the madness.

#fic rec #fic list #geraskier #frostiron #radiodust #steter #steddie #dreamling

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

The Gay Baby Box

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1,100 Words

Summary: The beginnings of the gay baby bonding box.

Warnings: Angst (& Fluff), Hurt/Comfort, Fighting, Hallucination (mentioned), Delusion (mentioned), , SFW Tickling, Fainting, let me know if I should add anything else.

Chapter 1: Sun And Charging

Sun was annoyed being in a box. His brother really thought putting him in a box for a time out was a good idea? What was he even meant to do? Stare at himself and hate himself? Pass time by naming all his mental issues? Maybe stare at his reflection until he hallucinated?

Maybe he was hallucinating already, actually, because the area around him in the box was teeming with almost glitter in the air, a sort of magic maybe from the box itself. Maybe Moon meant this as a charging feature of the box, since Sun was at barely 20% battery.

But no, it swirled into in front of and behind him. What was this accursed box doing? Sun looked from one to the other as he was suddenly between a red bot and a pink bot forming themselves in front of and behind him. He came face to face with Blood Moon as he woke up from reforming while what he assumed was the other twin was pressed to the wall behind them.

"Bloody?" The other twin asked from behind Sun. "Sun?"

"Yeah?" Sun asked.

"VES!" Blood Moon suddenly launched the three into the wall together, pressing Sun against him to hug 'Ves' behind Sun.

"Blood, I can't breathe." 'Ves' wheezed behind him.

"You two can't be real." Sun shucked from between them and was pressed against the opposite wall from the twins. These had to be hallucinations. Is this what Moon meant by the voices?

"Vessie, I couldn't hear you! I worried about you! You were not original, I worried you may not come back with me!" Blood Moon cling to his twin in tears, pressing close and refusing to release 'Vessie'.

"I'm here. We're okay. We're safe now, Bloody. I'm okay." 'Vessie' assured his twin.

"How could I ever survive without other? I'm so happy you came back with me!" Blood Moon sobbed out.

"I know. I'm happy you made it too. I love you, twin, we're safe, just breathe." 'Vessie' assured his twin. It took a few minutes for Blood Moon to calm down while 'Vessie' rubbed his twin's back.

"Why are you here? I don't feel bad about it!" Sun growled after having been ignored in favor of the ghosts of the dead's tantrum.

"Shut up!" Vessie growled, glaring at Sun as he kept Blood Moon close to him.

"No! I don't feel bad about killing you! You shouldn't be haunting me if I don't feel bad!" Sun growled back. His face suddenly got hit hard enough to smack his rays into the wall of the magic prison.

"What...?" Sun felt his face and rays, looking back to Ves fuming at him.

"I don't care if you feel bad about it, Sunrise. You tried to kill us. Do you understand how hard it is to reform yourself from broken machines!? When there's two of you!? We could have lost each other! One of us could have just not come back! I don't care what delusions you think you're having, we are not part of them!" Vessie growled protectively.

"H-How do I know you aren't lying?" Sun asked.

"Aside from that punch?" Vessie asked.

"Yes, something I don't know." Sun confirmed.

"My name is Harvest Moon. Only Blood Moon knows that." Harvest Moon.

"I thought it would be Vesper with 'Vessie'." Sun gave a sigh. This wasn't some hallucination or dream. They were real, they were here after having reformed, probably after hiding within Sun's mind quietly for the time they'd been 'dead'.

"Good enough?" Harvest asked.

"Yeah, yeah, it's good. Not fake. Okay." Sun slumped against the wall. At least he wasn't alone now. Even if the twins hated him, them being here was better than being alone with his thoughts. "How is Blood Moon?" Sun asked.

"He's asleep." Harvest confirmed from the red twin grasping to Harvest.

"I think you should rest too." Sun told him.

"So should you, Mr. Murderous Rampage." Harvest warned him.

"Okay, okay, we'll all rest." Sun huffed and sat on the floor, urging Harvest down too. Harvest cautiously set Blood Moon onto Sun's shoulder and then took up his other shoulder, holding his twin close.

Sun watched the seemingly younger twin, given the difference in name, fall asleep against his left shoulder while Blood Moon adjusted against his right shoulder. Surprisingly, the urge to protect them was there, just as it usually was for Lunar and Moon. His big brother instincts, he guessed.

But he held them close and looked at the mirror mocking him for only a moment before looking back to the twins and deeming the mirror a liar and shut his eyes to go into rest mode.

Sun woke up sometime later with his battery at 25%, meaning Moon had absolutely put a sort of charging feature into the magic prison, but it was a slow-acting charger only for when he was sleeping, probably to keep him inside a longer period of time. Harvest Moon and Blood Moon were awake now and Sun saw them seemingly wrestling.

"What are you doing?" Sun asked rather groggy with his still-low battery.

"Brother pinched my nose to wake me up!" Blood Moon complained.

"And that means you wrestle and wake me up?" Sun asked.

"I was tickling twin." Blood Moon tilted his head at Sun, who looked over Harvest, who was suitably giggly at the moment. Oh, he missed that.

"You wake me up with tickling?" Sun redirected.

"Well, I could've woken Sun Man with tickles! And I still could!" Blood moon seemingly took this as a means to tickle Sun. Harvest was busy giggling and cuddling to the other corner of the magic box while Blood descended upon Sun.

It felt nice to get tickled, Sun finally was letting himself laugh for the first time in at least a week or so. Sun thought he'd hate it, hate having Blood Moon touch him but he had him giggling like Harvest was in no time.

Sun was so enthralled with getting tickled by Blood Moon he didn't notice warnings popping up in his vision. Granted, his vision was full of tears from laughing so hard and his fans were running higher than the alarms in his body were. He was low it battery, it seemed.

His systems were at 2% already? He must've expended a lot getting tickled for, how long was this now? Sun didn't remember. Sun giggle right past his error screen until he felt himself shut down hearing Blood and Harvest screaming back and forth in a panic over what he assumed was his shutdown.

#five nights at freddy's #fnaf #sun and moon show #sams #this is our bonding box au #the gay baby prison chronology #fnaf sun #fnaf bloodmoon #fnaf harvest moon #snoweywrites #tw angst mention #tw fighting mention #tw fainting mention #tw hallucinations mention #tw delusion mention #sfw tickling

[bravemikhailo]

what are your favorite gallavich fics?

wow this took me literal months but finally here I am with a looong list. this fandom is just too talented 🥹

ok let’s start with wips, shall we?

miles between us - by @xgoldendays // In the summer of 1975, Mickey Milkovich is released from Beckman Correctional in California after a seven year prison sentence. Along with his cousin, Sandy – he's set to make the long road trip from Los Angeles back to his hometown of Chicago. On the way though, the pair pick up a hitchhiker who teaches Mickey that life on the outside has changed and the road home is never easy.

balancing on the ledge - @mmmichyyy // Moments on ledges in Ian and Mickey’s lives as their connection ebbs and flows throughout the years. 

care for a cut? - @gallawitchxx // a barbershop au written 100 words at a time based on galladrabbles prompts!

a dustland fairytale - @gardenerian // It’s different, this heat.It wraps around him, covers him as he walks into the night. Their usual summers might be heavy and stifling, but this - it feels alive. It feels purposeful, like it clings tighter to him every time he thinks about it.

the silence is all we have - @mmmichyyy // Ian remembers a time when Mickey loved him. Now, all they have is silence. A story not about changing the past, but about rebuilding what they once had into something whole again.

things beyond mistake - @gallavichy // In the 90s and early 00s, they were distant neighbors on a long, dirt road out in the middle of vaguely Georgia farmland. Ian and Mickey: two poor, closeted Southern kids with similar financial situations but very different families, harboring secret crushes that felt illegal and that manifested themselves as sharp words, punches, and self-loathing. In 2021, Ian, a high school teacher in need of a fresh start, returns to his childhood home after nearly 20 years to find himself once more sharing a lonely dirt road with Mickey, the boy he once knew and the man he's desperate to get to know.

your question has been received - @celestialmickey // a tumblr AU with a bit of a twist

since we’re alone - @lethargicmick and @buffymilkovich // When Mickey Milkovich first got to the University of Michigan he had two goals; play hockey and get drafted into the NHL. But by his junior year, he’s at risk of losing his full ride scholarship because of his slipping grades.Enter Ian Gallagher, an ambitious and fiery redhead who takes his job as Mickey’s tutor way too seriously and seems determined on making his life a living hell.Or a College AU where Mickey is a hockey player and Ian is studious as fuck. They are everything the other one hates. Or so they think.

intro to quantum dating - @spoonfulstar // another college au

ok I’m going to put the rest under the cut because this got extremely long!

completed multi-chapters

I had a dream (I got everything I wanted) - @matteoamiras // mickey milkovich hasn’t seen ian gallagher in over 9 years, not since the day he broke his heart and they shipped him off to prison for a crime he didn’t technically commit.the last place he expects to bump into him is new york fucking city.mickey suddenly finds himself being thrown head first back into a world of people and places he's spent so many years trying to leave behind.or, the one where two broken puzzle pieces find a way to fit themselves back together.au from 5x12/6x01 onwards. 

Ian the friendly ghost - @sunoficarus // "ghosts au where Mickey thinks the house he moved in is haunted because the doors seem to close on their own and his shit somehow gets neat and tidy and Ian's just a very polite ghost who's got a bit of a crush on the adorable grumpy guy who's just moved in"

you outshined the best there was - @metalheadmickey // Scenes from early parenthood in the Gallagher-Milkovich household.

cooperative gameplay - @gallavichy // At nineteen years old, Ian Gallagher’s stuck. Stuck in a minimum-wage job he hates. Stuck in the same boring routine--sleep, wake, work, take your meds, Ian!, try not to lose it day after day after day. But after his little brother introduces him to MICK MILK, a frustratingly hot horror gamer he watches on YouTube, Ian's life will never be the same. 

like real people do - @gallavichy // At the age of 26, Mickey Milkovich gets his first apartment, his first wifi connection, and his first kiss. How he gets from wifi to kissing is a complicated story. Mickey is socially anxious. Ian is a frustratingly lovable escort working through an app. Mickey downloads said app. The rest is history.

where I end and you begin - @gallawitchxx // Mickey is dead. And he’ll stay dead unless his soulmate can see him. He knows that’s Ian. Because….come on. But he’s only got two weeks to prove that--if he can get Ian to see him, then he gets to live again. If he can’t? Well, then it’s a one way trip to the Great Unknown. The thing is, the last time Mickey saw Ian it was behind some glass and Ian was not-so-convincingly promising to wait…

blood in, bleed out - brewrosemilk and whatsastory on ao3 // The year is 1954. Tony Bennett is on the radio, Marilyn Monroe is on the silver screen, and as Ian Gallagher is about to find out - the Ukrainian mafia is in full swing.

where I found you - @gardenerian // "They were finally thriving, as opposed to just surviving. Things were finally going their way. And now Ian’s in a hospital bed, thinking he’s fifteen fucking years old. He doesn’t remember their story. He doesn’t remember what they went through together. He doesn’t know Mickey like the back of his hand anymore. He doesn’t even know that Mickey’s gay. And Mickey’s the neighborhood thug again. Ian’s afraid of him. Ian hates him."

you’ll never see us again - @spoonfulstar // Ian navigates life inside the confines of Marceline, a beautiful boarding school in rural America where he had been fed, clothed, and raised since as long as he could remember. Things begin to fall apart when he grows older and starts to question the truths he'd been told -- about himself, his friends, and what their purpose truly is.

your name like a song I sing to myself - misandrywitch on ao3 // Mickey and Mandy Milkovich are the two halves of indie band 'Mandy and the Misdemeanors' and, against all odds, they're pretty good. That's about all Mickey has going for him though. He's expecting to slog through another long monotonous summer, make a little money playing some gigs and pass unnecessarily hot afternoons how he always has: drinking too much and wondering halfheartedly what feels like it's missing from his life.Until, that is, he meets a red-headed green-eyed bartender named Ian who charges into Mickey's life with a laugh, and who ensures that nothing will ever be the same.

the sound - chloemaay on ao3 // Five years. Five years for Ian and Mickey to twist their lives together so inextricably that neither can imagine life without the other. Five years of getting to know every inch of skin, every bad habit. Five years of fights. Five years of memories. Five years of being inseparable. One moment to take it all away.

one-shots

hope we’ll be better than the past - biblionerd07 on ao3 // Ian wants to leave Chicago when Mickey gets out of prison, intent on a fresh start together. Unfortunately, leaving a place doesn't always mean leaving the problems you faced there.

ghosts that we knew - @matteoamiras // for the first time in mickey's life, shit is moving forward - he's married, he's got a steady job and his dad just kicked the bucket. then, someone impossible turns up and everything he thought he knew is turned upside down. she doesn’t look like anything mickey has been led to believe about ghosts. because the woman in front of mickey is alive.

twenty strangers - @crossmydna // Ian may be a realist in most things, but at heart, he’s a hopeless romantic. That’s probably why he agrees to kiss a stranger on camera.

morning light - @mmmichyyy // Ian swears he feels Mickey's heart slow for a millisecond, but his voice remains steady. "You doing okay?" Maybe when he was younger, Ian would've probably stiffened and gotten defensive if anyone asked him that. I'm fucking fine. Leave me alone. Stop coddling me. But Mickey's not just anybody. He's his husband. His person. His rock. His everything.He's Mickey.

something to hold on to - @xgoldendays // Ian Gallagher thought he wasn’t prepared for prison but who he really wasn’t ready for was his brand new cell mate, Mickey Milkovich. or alternatively, Ian and Mickey meet in prison and cuteness and flirting ensues.

blood cells pixelate and eyes dilate - kissteethstainred on ao3 // The worst part about loving Mickey wasn't the fact that Mickey (might have) slept with other guys or the fact that Mickey doesn't love him back or that Mickey and Ian will only ever be fuckbuddies. No, the worst thing is the moments where Ian thinks it will be more.

stages - ColdReign on ao3 // It’s nice for married couples to share interests and experiences. But they didn’t really need their dads to die one after the other like this.

how to love - proval on ao3 // Mickey's body's been a bit quieter for a while now, no longer wracked through with those heaving sobs. But Ian gets the feeling if he leaves they'll start up again. Ian POV gap filler for 11x09. Starts after the end of 11x08.

three wishes - @xgoldendays // It's a time honored tradition to blow out your candles on your birthday and make a wish. Most people wish for happiness, others for gifts but for Mickey Milkovich, birthdays meant wishes never coming true. At least until he finds exactly what he's been missing to make those dreams into reality. Otherwise known as the three times Mickey celebrates his birthday and the three wishes he makes.

golden hour - @iansfreckles // He’s going to count those freckles one day, he decides, right then and there with Ian’s mouth on his. He’s going to find his favorite shapes in them, his favorite stories. Draw stupid little pictures in black ballpoint pen on his shoulders and kiss them, kiss them, kiss them, until Ian’s laughing with that one crooked tooth on display. (OR: 5 times Mickey admires Ian's freckles, +1 time Ian admires his)

bright - @gallavichy // "There's gotta be a neglected Milkovich baby crawling around your family tree somewhere."Post-series fic in which Ian and Mickey become parents. Alternating POV, but this is Mickey's story.

my love, you’re the one - @matteoamiras // all the years they’ve lost, all the goodbyes, all the reunions – they've all led up this. or, five times ian gallagher misses mickey milkovich + one time he doesn't have to (he never has to again).

you - budget on ao3 // "You can’t pinpoint exactly when it was that you stopped being you." - 7x11 analysis

the weight of water - Callielee227 on ao3 // mickey thinks about water, once in mexico and once in ian's arms

blueberry pancakes - noeller on ao3 // Ian and Mickey make dinner with Ian’s gay tomatoes from his gay garden

the seeds that you plant - @good-then-dont // inspired by ian's apparent love for tomatoes in the new episode.

makes a cathedral, him pressing against me - misandrywitch on ao3 // Ian kisses the top of Mickey’s head again, his temple, the hollow of his throat below his Adam’s apple, his collarbone, the torn skin on his knuckles. He kisses him and feels, for the first time, that neither of them is really going anywhere.

over and over again - mariss__ugh on ao3 // Mickey told him once that he’s fucked for life; he hopes more than anything that Mickey knows now that’s not true. He knows Mickey had a vision of how his future would be, but he also knows this isn’t the first time that vision is changing.

every story has its chapter in the desert - misandrywitch on ao3 // That was then, and this is now, and maybe those two things are connected, there’s a direct line from Monica to Ian, something you can’t wash out no matter how hard you try.

this is the essence of love and failure - misandrywitch on ao3 // “You’re sick,” Mickey says. “Hospital,” Mickey says. And your body is numb and your heart is breaking and you run.

try to forget how it feels inside - endofadream on ao3 // But this Ian is so different from that Ian.

a storm to weather - @xgoldendays // Pain is meant to be felt. As visceral as it can get, as deep as it burrows, you must feel it or it will consume you from the inside out. One shot detailing Mickey’s thoughts and emotions during the events of seasons 6, 7, and 9.

softer, softer - sunshineians on ao3 // “Softer,” he says quietly, guiding Mickey’s hands to his own bruised waist. He leans their foreheads together. “Softer,” he whispers, one more time. Just so Mickey knows. Or, Ian teaches Mickey's hands how to be gentle.

collections of ficlets and series 

broad shouldered beasts - biblionerd07 on ao3 // Six years after Mickey goes to jail, he's released on parole. He does his best to build a "normal" life and a relationship with his son while juggling the scars of his past.

shots in the dark - @iansfreckles

garden song - @gardenerian // He stands at the plot for a while before he begins working. This is it. After weeks of internet searches and sketches in his notepad, it’s time to put it all into action. Ian closes his eyes against the afternoon sun, breathes in the smell of dirt and greenery. Thinks about that giver of dreams. Opens them, squeezes the trowel in his hand.He works. He works well. And then: there it is. A goal accomplished. A beginning.

#i just went through all my bookmarks and recent history on ao3 😳 I’m sure I missed some gems anyway so please forgive me #I love all of these so much everyone is so talented #fic rec list #fic rec #gallavich #gallavich fanfiction #hope all the links work 🤡 #asks

[astrangergivingthestrangewelcome]

I miss Jonathan Harker and who knows when he'll come back from the war so I've compiled a list of his funniest, most iconic lines

May 3rd- "I had for dinner, or rather supper, a chicken done up some way with red pepper, which was very good but thirsty. (Mem., get recipe for Mina.) I asked the waiter, and he said it was called "paprika hendl,""

"I did not sleep well, though my bed was comfortable enough, for I had all sorts of queer dreams. There was a dog howling all night under my window, which may have had something to do with it; or it may have been the paprika, for I had to drink up all the water in my carafe, and was still thirsty."

May 5th- "so I quietly got my polyglot dictionary from my bag and looked them out. I must say they were not cheering to me, for amongst them were "Ordog"—Satan, "pokol"—hell, "stregoica"—witch, "vrolok" and "vlkoslak"—both of which mean the same thing, one being Slovak and the other Servian for something that is either were-wolf or vampire. (Mem., I must ask the Count about these superstitions)" Okay look I think the overlooked thing in this passage is that he had a polyglot dictionary to begin with and was just quietly flipping through it in the background.

Was this a customary incident in the life of a solicitor's clerk sent out to explain the purchase of a London estate to a foreigner? Solicitor's clerk! Mina would not like that. Solicitor—for just before leaving London I got word that my examination was successful; and I am now a full-blown solicitor! This is in my opinion the best and funniest thing Jonathan has ever said not only the first sentence which is in itself perfection but the fact that when recounting this freaky fucking wolf infested carriage ride to Dracula's haunted castle he does a full stop to ponder his new promotion and Mina's opinions on it.

May 8th- It is very annoying, for I do not see how I am to shave, unless in my watch-case or the bottom of the shaving-pot, which is fortunately of metal.

It was by this time close on morning, and we went to bed. (Mem., this diary seems horribly like the beginning of the "Arabian Nights," for everything has to break off at cockcrow—or like the ghost of Hamlet's father. So true bestie, you really do forget how poetical and rambling he used to be before the trauma set in

May 12th- I saw the fingers and toes grasp the corners of the stones, worn clear of the mortar by the stress of years, and by thus using every projection and inequality move downwards with considerable speed, just as a lizard moves along a wall. What manner of man is this, or what manner of creature is it in the semblance of man? I feel the dread of this horrible place overpowering me; I am in fear—in awful fear —and there is no escape for me; I am encompassed about with terrors that I dare not think of... ->May 15th- Once more have I seen the Count go out in his lizard fashion. -> June 29th- As he went down the wall, lizard fashion, I wished I had a gun or some lethal weapon, that I might destroy him

May 15th- Here I am, sitting at a little oak table where in old times possibly some fair lady sat to pen, with much thought and many blushes, her ill-spelt love-letter, and writing in my diary in shorthand all that has happened since I closed it last. It is nineteenth century up-to-date with a vengeance. And yet, unless my senses deceive me, the old centuries had, and have, powers of their own which mere "modernity" cannot kill. Bestie you are literally a prisoner in Dracula's castle and you think you're gonna die here

May 16th- "Up to now I never quite knew what Shakespeare meant when he made Hamlet say:—"My tablets! quick, my tablets 'Tis meet that I put it down," etc.," This is why he's my boy I too would immediately quote Hamlet in a major crisis

May 19- "I am surely in the toils."

June 24th- What shall I do? what can I do? How can I escape from this dreadful thing of night and gloom and fear? We would all like to know

June 25th- No man knows till he has suffered from the night how sweet and how dear to his heart and eye the morning can be." Not funny but I feel strongly about highlighting the resilience of Jonathan Harker at all times

#dracula daily #jonathan harker #literally he is the most fun to get stuck at dracula's trauma castle with

[ebdbd]

A list of Dan's supernatural visitors

... for future reference, featuring some of my thoughts

The Shadow

visible to: Dan, Nai

following Dan since the death of his mother

appeared malevolent at first, but has also become a source of comfort for Dan

To be answered: what was the shadow's intention when it trid to drown Dan?

✨monsterfucking✨

Trin

appears to: Dan, Nai, Anan (,Master Joe?)

his hauntings clearly have a purpose; he only haunts people who he has some sort of connection to... what is his goal?

like Dan, he had a closer relationship with Brother Anurak

seems to have the ability to influence the physical world: He gives Dan back the ring he lost. And his pig's mask was missing for a year before Dan found it, so that might have been his doing.

Two boys in the fun house

appear only to Dan, on either side of the mirror & start screaming

do they know Trin? It seemed as though he lead Dan to them deliberately...

Three dead girls

visible only to Dan

laying around a broken plaster cast of Laocoon*

drawings on the classroom wall are painted over with red

same white shirts but different bottoms; maybe St. Mary's students?

One-armed prisoner

former boxer, lost his arm during his time in the navy

"sold himself to homosexual millionaires" who overdosed on drugs -> he went to prison

got lots of letters while in prison

was executed

are the drawings in the vision done by him?

the only ghost that doesn't seem to be linked to the school (so far)

honorable mention: Dan's father

mostly part of Dan's dreams

visits Dan in the waking world once, also visible to Nai in that moment

will he continue haunting Dan now that he's dead? We'll see...

I will probably update this list once new episodes air.

*not sure if the Laocoon is supposed to mean something (the statue is very well known, so probably not), but it wouldn't be the first time greek mythology is referenced in the show

#I find it interesting that most of these people appear to only Dan when Nai is the medium among the two...fishy #this was mostly done for my own amusement but please let me know if i forgot something so I can add it! #tw death #tw overdose #tw monsterfucking? #key speaks #shadow the series #pls excuse my shitty screencaps

[lola-andheruniverse]

🧟‍♂️ Caryl Fanfiction Recs - Halloween Edition 🧟‍♂️

There's no way I would pass on the chance to recommend some Caryl + Halloween/Horror/Terror fics to you all, my fellow carylers. After all, our favorite comfort show is full of dead people walking around with rotten brain matter.

So, without further ado, here are six caryl fics to entertain you on this Halloween! Most of them were written for 9Lives Halloween Challenge of 2015. So down we go on this spooky memory lane! Enjoy!

🧛‍♀️Let Me In by TheWalkingCaryl [ 9Lives ] Summary: Daryl had strict rules and a lifetime of lies, but it was the only way that he knew of to keep the promise he had made to Carol. To keep Sophia safe from anything and everything. Rating: M/Mature Published: October 23, 2015 - one-shot

👽Flutter by @thereadersmuse [ 9Lives | AO3 ] Summary: Her coat tails flapped in the breeze as her pace suddenly devolved, turning into a staggering half run as the material flared out behind her like a banner. It was the only sound in the encompassing quiet – adding harmony to the abyss as her pale throat worked around a sudden sob. (Crossover with "The Mist" by Stephen King.) Rating: M/Mature Chapters: 19 Published: August 02, 2014 - COMPLETE

🐺The Hunter by @lovesdaryl [ 9Lives | AO3 ] Summary: He has been hunting the beast for years and is finally close to catching up to it. The moon will be full soon. Will Daryl manage to take the wolf down before it feeds again? Rating: E / Explicit Chapters: 9  Published: October 23, 2015 - COMPLETE

👧In The Woods by @hickandhousewife [ 9Lives ] Summary: Daryl finds something unexpected while searching the forest for Sophia. Rating: T / Teen and Up Audiences Published: October 23, 2015 - ONE-SHOT

👻The Ghosts of Prison Past by @silversundown2 [ 9Lives ] Summary: Carol and Daryl get lost in the tombs on Christmas Eve and have a very strange experience. Rating: T / Teen and Up Audiences Published: December 15, 2015 - ONE-SHOT

😱The Haunting of Carol and Daryl Dixon by Caryl Warrior [ 9Lives ] Summary: When Carol and Daryl decide to take a vacation in a remote cabin, they never dreamed they'd fall prey to a vengful spirt they may not let they leave alive. Rating: T / Teen and Up Audiences Published: October 23, 2015 - ONE-SHOT

#caryl #caryl fic recs #happy halloween #caryl fic recs - halloween edition

[philosopher-blog]

الوهم الذي يحصر فكرك كالظل الذي يطوق العقل ويعمي البصيرة، هو مثل كذبة ملتصقة بالروح تمنعها من الارتقاء والتطور. يشبه الوهم جندياً يقيد حركتك ويحاول أن يخنق أحلامك بتلك الأفكار الزائفة التي تخدعك وتجعلك تعيش في عالم ملون بالخيال والوهم.

قد يكون الوهم نتاجاً لخيالنا المفرط ورغبتنا في الهروب من واقع مرير، فنسعى لخلق عوالم خيالية تأوينا وتحمينا من الصدمات والصعوبات. ولكن عندما تنال منا تلك الكذبة الضارة، تصبح مصدراً للعزلة والتخلف، فنبتعد عن الواقع ونعيش في دوامة الوهم التي تنهك قوتنا وتجردنا من هويتنا وأحلامنا.

الوهم هو شبح يطاردنا ويعيقنا عن النمو والتطور، فكما يقولون "الحقيقة مرة واحدة والوهم مستمر". فإذا ما استسلمنا لتلك الكذبة ودعونا أفكارنا تجري وراءها، سيصبح الواقع مجرد سجن يقيد حريتنا ويمنعنا من تحقيق ما نريد.

لكن كيف يمكننا التغلب على تلك الكذبة الضارة والوهم الذي يجتاحنا؟ الحل يكمن في الوعي والتفكير النقدي، فعندما نكون واعين لطبيعة الأفكار التي تجول في أذهاننا، نستطيع التمييز بين الواقع والخيال، وبين الحقيقة والوهم.

يجب علينا أيضاً أن نكون صادقين مع أنفسنا ونعترف بوجود تلك الكذبة التي تملأ أفكارنا، ومن ثم نعمل على تجاوزها وتحويلها إلى شيء إيجابي يساعدنا على التقدم والنمو. يمكننا أن نبدأ بمواجهة الوهم من خلال تحليل ودراسة الأفكار التي تحاصرنا، ومن ثم نقوم بتحويلها إلى طاقة ايجابية تدفعنا نحو تحقيق أهدافنا وتحقيق أحلامنا.

الاعتماد على الواقع والتحلي بالصدق والوعي يمكن أن يساعدنا في التغلب على الوهم، وبناء رؤية واضحة وموضوعية للواقع وتحقيق النجاح في حياتنا. يجب علينا أن نكون واثقين من أن الحقيقة هي ما يحدد مسار حياتنا وتحقيق أهدافنا، وليست الأفكار الوهمية التي تنال منا.

بمجرد أن نستطيع تفكيك الوهم وكشف كذبته، سيتيح ذلك لنا الفرصة للتحرر والتقدم نحو مستقبل واعد. سيمكننا أن نبني حاضراً يتسم بالواقعية والصدق، ونحقق أحلامنا بكل جدارة ونجاح.

لن يكون الوهم الذي يحصر فكرنا كذبة تأبى الرحيل دائماً، بل سنستطيع تحويله وتجاوزه نحو عالم يسوده الواقع والصدق والتقدم. هيا بنا نتخلص من أغلال الوهم ونعيش حياة حقيقية مليئة بالنجاح والتحقيق.

The illusion that entraps your mind is like a shadow that envelops the intellect and blinds the vision. It is like a lie that clings to the soul, preventing it from advancing and evolving. The illusion is akin to a soldier that restricts your movement, attempting to stifle your dreams with false thoughts that deceive and make you live in a world colored by imagination and illusion.

The illusion may be a product of our excessive imagination and our desire to escape from a harsh reality. We seek to create imaginary worlds that shelter and protect us from shocks and difficulties. However, when this harmful falsehood takes hold of us, it becomes a source of isolation and stagnation. We distance ourselves from reality and live in a whirlpool of illusion that drains our strength and deprives us of our identity and dreams.

The illusion is a ghost that haunts us and impedes our growth and development. As they say, "Truth is once and illusion is continuous." If we succumb to this falsehood and let our thoughts chase after it, reality becomes a mere prison that restricts our freedom and prevents us from achieving what we desire.

But how can we overcome this harmful falsehood and the illusion that overwhelms us? The solution lies in awareness and critical thinking. When we are aware of the nature of the thoughts that roam in our minds, we can distinguish between reality and fantasy, between truth and illusion.

We must also be honest with ourselves and acknowledge the presence of the falsehood that fills our thoughts, and then work to overcome it and transform it into something positive that helps us to progress and grow. We can begin to confront the illusion by analyzing and studying the thoughts that besiege us, and then transform them into positive energy that propels us towards achieving our goals and realizing our dreams.

Relying on reality and embodying honesty and awareness can help us to overcome the illusion and build a clear and objective vision of reality, and achieve success in our lives. We must be confident that truth defines the trajectory of our lives and the achievement of our goals, not the illusory thoughts that impact us.

Once we are able to dismantle the illusion and uncover its falsehood, it will allow us the opportunity to liberate ourselves and move towards a promising future. We can build a present characterized by realism and honesty, and achieve our dreams with competence and success.

The illusion that entraps our thoughts will not be an everlasting falsehood that refuses to leave. Instead, we can transform it and move past it towards a world characterized by reality, honesty, and progress. Let's break free from the chains of illusion and live a truly fulfilling life, full of success and accomplishment.