I don't know what the fuck is this

I created this and I don't remember the password so I can't eliminate. This is trash (like me) Anyways, watch Madara with a Hello Kitty outfit

[fairstairs1]

The Last King of Faerie sampler from Bookcon typed up for those who want it! Feel free to use it however you like!! Let me know if there's any mistakes I double checked but I am human.

The Last King of Faerie Sampler

Chapter 1: IN DREAMS BEGINS RESPONSIBILITY “Look, Ty,” said Catarina Loss, the blue-eyed, blue-skinned warlock currently in charge of ac

[thedailylifeofafailedvodkaaunt]

Mamma Mia au, in which Maekar lived a pretty wild life before he met Dyanna and settled down, resulting in Daeron. (I imagine Maekar as a single parent meeting and falling head over heels in love with Dyanna, and Dyanna being the dad that stepped up).

Now years later, after Dyanna has died, Daeron is curious about his real father and when he stumbles over some clues in Maekar's journal from the time before Daeron was born, Daeron gets the brilliant idea to invite his potential father(s) to his wedding to Dunk. (Yes, Egg set them up and yes, Egg has bragging rights until they turn grey and wrinkly)

So Daeron sends out invitations to one Lyonel Baratheon and one Daemon Blackfyre. There is also a third man, who Maekar only calls "his dornish spearman" and whom Daeron has no way of contacting. Which he thinks is a shame, because it seems his muna really was in love with the man and he might even have broken Maekar's heart. Okay, so maybe for the best then.

As the wedding approaches, the Targaryen clan descends upon Summerhall alongside the wide range of friends that Dunk has made over the years.

Then just a couple of days before the ceremony, Lyonel Baratheon and Daemon Blackfyre glides in to Maekar's absolute horror.

The only one who might be even more annoyed at this sudden blast from the past, is Daeron's uncle Baelor, who for some unknown reason can’t seem to stand these two men who might potentially have fathered Daeron.

[reineydraws]

think i finalized my designs of young(er) breakspear bros 🎉🎉

⬇️ and a comic :))

(maekar grew up being affectionately bullied by his older brothers haha)

[thot-chi]

Grandpa Maekar AU

Maekar going full grandpa as soon as Maegor is born brings me joy. When Aerion is pregnant Maekar is absolutely not happy about it and is ready to murder Duncan at a drop of a hat.

But the moment newborn Maegor is presented, Maekar just feels so much love.

Maekar, staring in wonder at Maegor: This is it, this moment right here makes everything else worth it. All the suffering I've had has lead me to this..

Que going full grandpa mode and constantly stealing his grandson from Aerion and Dunk. Spoiling Maegor, giving him anything and everything. Luckily to all of Westeros, Maegor takes after Dunk in his kindness. Maekar is so attached to his grandson, he pitches a fit when Maegor is not around.

Dunk, going to Maekar to ask something

Maekar, excitedly looking around before frowning and glaring at Dunk.

Maekar: Where's my grandson, you giant donkey??

Not even Aerion is exempt from this.

Aerion: Hello Fa-

Maekar: Do not ever come see me without my grandson ever again! Bring me my baby boy!

Even Maekar's other kids notice how different their father is with their nephew as well.

Rhae: What is this??

Toddler Maegor, honking down a lemoncake with another clutched in his little fat fist while Maekar just wipes the crumbs from his face.

Maekar:hm? He wanted lemoncakes.

Egg: You never let us eat sweets before dinner!

Maekar: MY grandson wanted lemoncakes.

Aerion from across Summerhall: FATHER!!

[inthedarkestlight]

Dunkaerion - modernAu, police Dunk & lawyer Aerion, or something like that

Dunk is a policeman. Aerion is Maegor's single father. He loves his son, but sometimes he has to leave him in Daeron's care, usually in emergencies. Okay? Sure.

So, one day, Dunk—after hours of work, as a civilian—spots a little boy in the park. About five years old, anyway, Maegro is young, goes to preschool while Aerion works in the family business, is the lawyer or CEO or something. His family is super rich.

So, Dunk finds a small, scared boy in the park, in the evening, it's already dark. He panics and tends to the boy. He gives him a tissue and wipes his tears, helping him up from the ground, where he might be sitting, exhausted from crying and frightened. He asks about his parents, what he's doing there, who he's with. The boy, overcome with stress and fear, can't answer logically and what he's doing. Dunk takes him to the station.

He calls Tanselle—a police psychologist—she'll be there as soon as possible. He also notifies Raymun and Arlan, the commander. Until Tansell arrives, Dunk takes care of the boy. He treats his scratches and minor wounds. Arlan suggests calling an ambulance and examining the boy, for, you know… there are a lot of strange people in the world, and Arlan prefers to be cautious, okay? This is a dramatic detail that can be omitted from this story. But for safety's sake, they agree with him, deciding to wait for Tanselle and her attempts to talk to Duncan.

The boy feels safe in Duncan's company. Dunk and Tanselle talk to him, asking what he was doing – he was visiting Uncle Daeron. But his uncle fell asleep – because he drank some strange-smelling juice (wine). So he left because he wanted to go home; the door was open. But he got lost in the park. And where is your father? He's at work with his grandfather.

Dunk: What's your name? Will you tell me? Or what's your father's name?

Maegor: I'm Maegor! And my father is Dad.

Dunk: Well… the iron logic of little children.

Tansell's head lights up. Maegor, Daeron. Aren't those names typical of one famous, wealthy, and influential family?

Dunk and Raymun look at each other. Further questioning tends to confirm this. Arlan agrees to inform the family.

Aerion bursts into the police station, followed by Makar. The boy squeals when he sees him. Aerion thanks him, promising to kill his brother for his irresponsibility.

Two days later, Aerion arrives at the station with Maegor. The boy wanted to see uncle Duncanem; he'd been talking about him for the past two days. About the police, about the station.

Aerion is defeated. His son has chosen his husband. But he's still happy.

[h0ney223]

Lavender Silk, Dragon Fire

Kiera of Tyrosh x F!Valaars Twin Reader

Your heart warms for the Tyrosh Lady from across the narrow sea.

cw - wlw, emotional and physical cheating (valarr doesn't gaf tho), westerosi anti gay propaganda (but honestly nobody gaf), making out, roommate final bosses

words - 6.5k

notes - I loved how this turned out! Kiera is such an overlooked character and it was super fun to develop her and give her a little life. The asoiaf women are always underrated. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Kiera of Tyrosh was a breath of fresh air in the Red Keep.

Gorgeous bronzed skin, big brown eyes, curly pink hair and a kind disposition, sailed in from all the way across the narrow sea to marry your twin brother Valaar.

She arrived on a warm summer day, wide eyed and hopeful as she was introduced to your father, the Crown Prince Baelor Targaryen, and then to your brother Valaar, who dutifully pressed a kiss to her knuckles. 

You greeted her next, walking up to her as Valaar stepped back, dipping your head respectfully to your future good-sister. “A pleasure to meet you, Lady Kiera. I hope your journey was well, I find travelling by ship to be rather unpleasant."

Kiera curtsied, fixing you with a shy smile. “It was well, thank you, Your Grace. I hope we can find some time to get to know one another, if that pleases you.”

“It does. We’ll discuss this later, I’m sure you’re eager to retire to your chambers after your travels. I won’t keep you.” You say, signaling the end of the conversation.

You turn around, picking up your skirts and walking back to the castle as Valaar caught up to you, walking by your side.

“Well brother, what do you think of your bride-to-be?” You inquire with a grin, nudging Valaar with your elbow.

He fixes his two-toned gaze on you wearily, shaking his head with a sigh. “She is the perfect lady Father said she would be.” Valaar commented with exasperation.

“I think she is quite comely.” You mused, pursing your lips together. “I was not expecting the pink hair. It's pretty.”

Valaar groaned. “You marry her then, since you fancy her so. I did not choose this.”

You frown, and become less sympathetic to your brother's woes. “Ladies are often forced into marriages that are not of their choosing, Valaar. It is happening to you, it will happen to me in due time. You must have some understanding for her too. It is the curse of our status, to be forced into things we have no control over.”

“You’re right, sister, but that doesn't mean I can't be upset by it.”

You grimace. “Well, when you become King, you will have all the choices you could ever want. I don't want to hear any complaining when the time comes.”

Valaar sighs. “I’m going to the yard. Perhaps I will feel better after I train.”

“Pity to the training dummies. I will pray for their swift recovery.” You say, patting Valaar’s shoulder as the two of you go your separate ways.

You had let Kiera settle in for a few days, while you kept an ear open to the opinions of the court. The arrival of Valaar’s future bride, and of the future Queen, had the Lords and Ladies of the Red Keep in a frenzy you had never seen before. There were claims that she was a witch, and had cast a spell on your grandfather and father to secure the betrothal. A maid who had been stripping your bedsheets whispered that the Tyrosh used blood-magic to change their hair color, and you couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

You had planned to invite Kiera to have tea with you in your solar, something private and quick, so that you could make a polite getaway if you found her unbecoming. In fact, you had been deep in thought about your plans when you suddenly came across her in the hallways.

She seemed surprised to see you, and let out a small gasp. “Your Grace.” Kiera greeted as she curtsied. “Good morning to you.”

“Good morrow, Lady Kiera. Where are you off too?” You inquire, slightly amused.

She seemed surprised at the question, perhaps expecting only a simple greeting in passing. “To the gardens, Your Grace. The day is lovely, and my handmaiden said the flowers are in bloom.” She explained. “Although I can’t quite seem to find them. I am still not yet acquainted with the Red Keep.”

“I can show you. I still get lost sometimes, even though I’ve lived here my whole life. The keep is quite big.” You say, offering your arm to her. 

The gesture was quite bold, considering you didn't know her. But she was to be your good-sister, and perhaps a display of goodwill and camaraderie would set her at ease and show the court she was under your protection.

Kiera gaped, blinking rapidly with her pretty brown eyes. “Thank you, Your Grace.” She said, and hesitantly took your arm in hers, stiff and uneasy.

“I am a dragon, but I do not bite unless you give me reason, My Lady.” You comfort, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “We are to be family, and I hope I can find a friend in you.”

“Thank you, My Princess. I hope the same.” Kiera said sincerely, and she had relaxed her grip on you.

You and Kiera walked arm-in-arm down the hall, and you pointedly ignored the stares and whispers as the two of you passed. Kiera, on the other hand, seemed to grow self-conscious of the attention, and pressed closer to you.

“Pay them no mind.” You dismissed. “A week or two, and they will move on to something else. Lady Swann is due to give birth to her bastard child soon. The whispers will find her instead of you.”

Kiera furrowed her eyebrows. “The babe is not yet here, how do you know she carries a bastard?” 

You lean in closer, pink curls tickling your cheek. She smelled like pears. “It was quite the scandal,” You whisper, “Lord Swann has not lain with his wife in some time you see, they fight quite a lot and do not get along very well. When she became with child, well, it was clear he wasn't the sire.” 

“I will pray for a swift delivery then.” Kiera quipped, and you laughed at that.

You had enjoyed your time with her, walking rounds around the gardens. You had not had many chances to simply walk around and chat with someone that wasn’t family, without there being some ulterior motive or watchful eyes taking in your every movement. It was a change that you welcomed.

Kiera had opened up to you. She told you of Tyrosh, something she missed more than she could express, even though she had only just arrived. The tales of sailors and precious textiles enchanted you, and the setting sun cast an orange glow over the keep when you parted from her to head back to your chambers.

Your meeting had left you thinking highly of Kiera. She was shy and unsure, symptoms of a new environment, but she was well-spoken, humble, and courteous. You wouldn’t mind her being your good-sister.

Unfortunately, the rest of the Red Keep did not quite share your sentiments. Kiera, as a Tyroshi lady, had not been received well by the court. Most people had not even accepted the unification of Dorne into the realm, let alone a Tyroshi, and the whispers following your family for their Dornish ‘tainting’ were loud. You were not surprised Kiera had an even harsher welcome.

You had tried your best to adjust her to court life. You had grown fond of her, and brought Kiera into your circle of ladies.

Being a Princess was lonely work. You had never had many friends to surround yourself with, often forced to keep the company of noble ladies that your father had urged you to keep close for the sake of alliances and business and duty and whatever reason he impressed upon you.

You had not wanted Kiera to have the same experience.

The shift had gone well, you had thought foolishly, until you overheard Lady Florent slandering Kiera's name when she thought you had left.

“Have you seen the way you dress,” Lady Florent commented, and you had paused at the entryway of the solar, “Lady Kiera, you look more fit for a Lys pleasure house than for Westeros. You have surely bewitched the Prince into this union. You are not fit to be our Queen.”

Your father had been furious when he learned you dumped a flagon of Arbor Red on Lady Florent's gown. Luckily, he had been whisked away on urgent business, so the scolding had been left for your Uncle Maekar to complete, who had been visiting from Summerhall. He gave you a few stern words about duty and honor, before you had cut him off and explained your side.

Lady Florent was in a carriage back to Brightwater Keep the next morning.

Kiera had quickly warmed to your after your defense of her, and her shy charm had morphed into a devoted and compassionate friend. You had never had anyone to call a ‘friend’. You had Valaar, Daeron, and Aerion to keep you company in your youth, but you were family and it was only natural you were close. Aerion had scared off any Lady you had managed to get close to with his pride and violence, and you at some point had to make peace with the fact that you were quite alone.

So, you had become quite attached to Kiera, and she to you. The two of you were each other's only friends, and you had learned to stick together.

You would spend time in Kiera’s solar, or yours, and embroider, gossip, and do all the things young noble ladies did. You shared everything together. You wore each other's dresses, swapped jewelry, and ate almost all your meals together.

She taught you Tyroshi, a language with High Valyrian roots that allowed you to pick it up quickly.

The two of you often spoke in her native language, letting the two of you speak freely even in the presence of your family. The Targaryens had not held the learning of High Valyrian in importance for quite some time, the language dying alongside your house's dragons, and only you and your cousin Aerion could speak it fluently.

You had even invited Kiera to share your bed, as all young ladies did with their close friends. You both were a little old for it to be proper, but nobody would dare question a Princess of the Realm and their future Queen, at least not openly.

"You are my only friend here." She whispered in your ear, pressed up behind you as the two of you lay tangled in your silk bedsheets. "You are very dear in my heart."

"And you in mine." You confessed, taking the hand that Kiera had wrapped around your middle and lacing your fingers with hers.

Your time spent together had been slowly cut short as the wedding approached. Kiera was turned every which way preparing, days spent with seamstresses and Septas. A royal wedding was no small affair, and you too had been busy entertaining arriving nobles who were residing in the castle for the big day.

It was hard to find moments to yourselves, away from duty and expectation. You had made the most of it when you did, swapping stories about the pageantry of it all.

You had helped Kiera re-dye her hair, and in return she had colored your white streak to match. Your hands were stained pink for a week, but it had made you happy to try something new. It was like you had a part of her with you.

"I feel less alone when you are with me." Kiera admitted sadly. “I’m glad I have you.”

You reached over and took her hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You will always have me.” You declared, and Kiera had pressed a kiss to your joined hands.

When the day of the wedding arrived, you had dismissed her handmaidens, and spent the morning with Kiera. You had helped her dress for the ceremony, lacing her up in white silk, and adorning her with her finest Tyroshi jewels. You had given her your favorite ruby ring as a wedding gift, and it decorated her ring finger, sparking in the sunlight.

“You look beautiful.” You said as you admired her, resting your chin on her shoulder as you embraced her from behind.

She reached up to put her palms over yours. “Thank you.” Kiera said sincerely. “You have been my great strength through all of this.”

“It was either me or Septa Doranne. I am not so cruel as to leave you to her devices.” You jest, and the two of you share a laugh. "Now come, it’s time for us to leave for the Sept.”

You stood next to your father in the Grand Sept, watching Valaar place the Targaryen cloak over his new bride, and placing a chaste kiss to her lips. The Sept had erupted into cheers and shouts, and you had been right alongside them, clapping furiously for the two people you loved most.

You had been whisked away to ready yourself for the celebratory feast, and you dressed in a purple gown that had once been your Lady Mother’s, and borrowed gold jewelry from Kiera.

A knock at your door made you raise a brow, and you side-eyed Ser Roland as he entered and bowed. “The Prince Valaar for you, Your Grace.”

“Send him in.” You said with a flourish of your hand.

Valaar entered, dressed in the same black velvet doublet from the ceremony. He walked over and unprincely flopped onto your bed with a groan.

“Hello to you too.” You commented as you busied yourself putting on your earrings.

Valaar peered over, mismatched eyes looking quite peeved. “Hello, my dearest and most lovely sister.”

“Your only sister.” You said dryly. You turned around in your chair to fully face him. “What are you doing here? You should be at the feast, soaking up all the attention like usual.”

“I’m here to escort you to the feast.” Valaar stated, and you stared at him like he had grown a second head.

“And Kiera? Your Lady Wife?” You asked. “I know it is quite a recent development, but surely you have not forgotten her already.”

Valaar sat up, sitting on your bed. “I have arranged for Matarys to escort her.” He explained. “She will not be alone.”

“Father will be quite wroth with you for not escorting her.”

“It is my wedding night, any lectures will be given promptly tomorrow.” Valaar remarked. “Is that Mother’s dress?”

You nodded softly. “It is.”

“It suits you. Father may shed a tear, he’s already sentimental enough about the wedding.”

You frown. “Should I change then? I don’t want to be the cause of Father’s melancholy.”

Valaar stands, dusting off his clothes. “No, wear it. It’s as if her spirit is here with us, in a way. I know it's an odd thing to say about a gown.”

“I understand, brother. That’s why I chose it.” You admitted softly.

“A good choice, then. Come now, let us head down.” Valaar asserted, and you took the arm he extended to you.

You entered the hall on Valaar's arm, ever the dutiful brother. He walked you to the high table, and your heart leapt for joy when you spotted a familiar white haired figure speaking with your father at the end of the table.

"Uncle Maekar!" You called out happily, picking up your skirts to dash over, pressing a kiss to your beloved Uncle's cheek in greeting. "I didn't realize you would be here tonight."

"Your father dragged me here." Maekar said, rolling his eyes. "You know I don't like to entertain these simpering lords. Although the presence of my dear niece surely brings a light to this whole affair."

You smiled brightly at his affections. "Have you brought my cousins?"

"Only Daeron and Aerion. I didn't have the patience to bring any more of my children."

Baelor shook his head. “Maekar.” He chidded, and your Uncle scoffed at his brother's display.

“I’ll send them all to summer at the Red Keep, and we’ll see how composed you act then.” Maekar stated. “I rarely have a moment's peace from them.”

Your father had seemingly grown tired of his brother's words, and had turned his gaze to you. “You look beautiful, dearest.” He said, pressing a comforting kiss to your forehead. “I wish your Mother were here to see how the three of you have grown.”

“Father…” You said, lip wobbling as you become overcome with emotion.

Your uncle wrapped an arm around your shoulder, hand rubbing your shoulder soothingly. “It’s alright.” He said sternly, but not meanly. “Go enjoy the night. Aerion has been looking for you.”

“Yes, Uncle.” You agree, wiping at your eyes. You look around the room, and see some lemon cakes sitting untouched on the high table. You make for them, letting the sweets carry your emotions away. It was mid-mouthful of dessert, that Kiera had made her appearance.

Kiera, to your surprise, no longer wore her gown from the ceremony. Instead, she was dressed in one of your favorite gowns. Dark crimson velvet, trimmed with black myrish lace and rubies, black thread woven throughout the length of the gown with depictions of dragons.

Honestly, you had forgotten you lent her the gown, and its reappearance gave you quite the surprise. "Kiera!" You said joyfully as you rushed up to her, clasping your hands together in delight. "You look so beautiful in my dress! You must keep it."

Kiera’s cheeks flushed at your affections. “No, it's your dress. But I suppose it doesn't matter, we practically share a closet.” She giggled.

“Come, Kiera, there are some delicious lemon cakes at the table.” You said, taking her hand in your own to lead her to the sweets. The two of you indulged on sugar, gossiping between bites about the ceremony and the time you spent apart.

The feast was truly a spectacle, tables loaded with plump meat and fresh fruits. The air smelled mouthwatering and the musicians seemed to be blessed by the gods that night.

You had danced with Aerion, your prideful cousin who had no issue peacocking across the dancefloor with you on his arm for more songs than considered proper, Valaar, and you had even convinced your father to dance for one song.

When the night grew late, it had become time for the bedding ceremony. Kiera tittered nervously next to you, playing with the golden bangles on her arm. You rested your hand on her arm soothingly, but nothing you did or said could settle her.

Valaar approached, offering his arm to Kiera. “It is time.” He said simply, and you grew annoyed at your brother's lack of reassurement to his wife.

The two of them departed through a sea of nobles, jeers and encouragements shouted at the couple. Kiera had turned to look behind her, meeting your mismatched eyes with her own brown ones. They disappeared into the crowd, and when they had left the hall, the people had settled down.

You had left the feast soon after, exhausted with the day's festivities.

When you awoke the next morning, you were shocked to find Kiera sitting at your table, sipping on tea as she read a hefty book.

“Kiera,” You called, wiping groggily at your eyes as you sat up. “What are you doing here?”

“Reading, as you can see.” She said, pointing to her book.

“I-i can clearly see that.” You said with a raised brow. “Shouldn’t you be with Valaar?”

She shrugged. “I suppose. I’d rather be with you.”

You sat quietly for a moment, taking in her presence. The skin not covered by your nightgown was cool when you slid out of your covers, padding over to where she sat.

“There’s tea for you. I dismissed your maids this morning, so they won’t bother us.” Kiera said, pointing at the second cup as she kept her gaze on her book. You sip on it tentatively, a brew tasting of citrus and lavender. 

Kiera was strangely… normal. The stories you had heard about the bedding seemed either brutal or passionate, of rutting lords who paid no mind to their wives, or lusty men who turned their ladies' night into a pleasure-filled dream. Her behavior betrayed neither option, and despite your curiosity, you didn’t want to hear of your brother's bedding habits, so you did not ask.

“I have an appointment with my seamstress after breakfast, but I will be free the rest of the day if you would like to walk the gardens.” You offered, sipping your tea.

“Yes, that would be lovely. The roses are in full bloom now, I can smell them from my chambers.” Kiera hummed. You smiled at your good-sister, and went to dress yourself.

Your garden rendezvous would have to be postponed. 

A Kingsguard had delivered the news as you decided between two shades of blue silk, that your father had summoned you to his office. It was late evening when you plucked up the courage to go, and begrudgingly began the arduous journey up the Tower of the Hand.

Your father had never been one to summon you often. It was usually when you were in trouble, that you were forced to his office. But you hadn't done anything wrong, so you were left confused on the intricacies of your visit.

You stood in front of the oak door, taking a deep breath to settle yourself as you knocked heavy-handedly. You heard your fathers call to enter, and pushed open the door.

"Father," You greeted carefully, keeping your voice light as you walked over to your sire who sat behind his desk, piled with scrolls and books that you had no interest in. "You wanted to see me?"

Baelor nodded, setting down his quill, fixing his mismatched gaze onto you. "Yes, dearest. Come, sit with me."

You pushed some scrolls out of the way, and perched yourself on the corner of his desk. You waited for him to speak, playing with your rings.

“You are quite close with Lady Kiera, yes?” He asked, and you grew confused at his line of questioning.

“Yes, Father.” You say.

“How close is she to Valaar?” He asks.

You furrow your brow. “Not very,” You say, “He doesn't pay her much mind, and neither does she.”

“Do you think you in any way play a part in that?” Baelor asks, leaning back in his chair to inspect your face.

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. “No, Father. What is this?” You question.

Your father sighs, tilting his head. “You and Lady Kiera are quite fond of each other, that is no secret. I believe your attachment is stopping your brother from getting to know his Lady Wife.”

“That sounds like a load of nonsense.” You deadpan. “They do not care for each other. It is known."

“I would like you to spend some time apart from her.” Your father stated, and you reared back incredulously at his words. “I believe she can grow to learn Valaar if she spends some time by herself.”

"Kiera is my only friend!" You argued. "These other ladies only want my favor, my attention, to further their own agendas! She has been my closest companion, Father."

Baelor stood from his chair, crossing over to soothe you with his warm hands on your shoulders. 

"I know, my heart. But Valaar needs to get to know his bride. She will be his Queen, and it's important for them to form a strong partnership." He said gently, and you chewed on your lip with agony, blood warming with a silent fury.

You shook your head. "No, Father." You said defiantly, much to his surprise. You fixed your eyes on his, matching two toned gazes fighting for control. "I will not let you take her from me. I am a Princess of the Realm, and I know you have been looking at my marriage prospects. You will marry me to a far off Lord, and I will bear him sons that will never be able to meet my family. I will spend as much time as I like with Kiera before that, Father." You spat, standing abruptly, ignoring the calls of your father as you made for the door, slamming it behind you. 

You ran down every step of the tower, and your lungs were burning by the time you reached the Godswood.

You had never been pious, true dragons did not bow before seven pointed stars or old trees and pledge fealty. That didn’t stop you from pressing your palm against pale bark, balancing on centuries old roots to rest your forehead on the tree.

Bloodraven said the old trees could see, always watching. Your Uncle Maekar said Bloodraven was a sham, and to pay him no mind. Still, you found the idea comforting. A tree that had watched your ancestors, that would watch your forebearers.

You had calmed yourself against the bark, breathing deeply as you collected yourself. Your outburst against your father was out of character for you, and you felt troubled by your defiance. Yet your selfishness shined through. How dare he try to separate you from the only friend you've ever had. Your dragon blood boiled, and it left you feeling strangely helpless.

The hour was late when you trudged back to your chambers, not bothering to undress as you crawled into bed, utterly exhausted.

You told Kiera about the visit when you broke your fast with her the next morning. She had been troubled by your Father’s words, but there were no threats or orders. Only strong suggestions.

"I am your brother's duty." Kiera explained. "He is kind, and pleasant, and everything the stories say Princes should be. But I am not his choice, and he is not mine. We both understand that."

“I think he hopes some affection will blossom between the two of you, like it had with him and my own Lady Mother.” You suggested, although you were still out of sorts by your fathers words.

Kiera reached over to pet your shoulder soothing. “Your Father is only doing what he thinks is best. He isn't purposefully trying to upset you.”

You sniffed, taking a bite of the fruit on your plate.

It had been days later, when you realized why your father had reason for concern. It had been a day like any other. Kiera had spent the night with you, and the two of you indulged in a lazy morning where you basked in each other's presence.

Kiera received gifts from Tyrosh, and you had helped her open the presents. You opened a particularly heavy wooden box, revealing bottles of oil. You opened one of the bottles at the top, delighting in the citrus scent. "This one smells wonderful." You remarked, setting it down.

“My Father sent it, it's one of my favorites.” Kiera explained, busy admiring a necklace of sapphire. “You can keep that one, I have more.”

“Thank you.” You said, picking the bottle back up to apply the scent to your wrists and behind your ears. 

You picked up another parcel, and was surprised to find a small woven tapestry, no bigger than a placemat. The craftsmanship was beautiful, and that woven thread had momentarily blinded you to the design. 

You furrowed your eyes, peering closer. The tapestry depicted two women, with bright dyed hair, kissing.  

“What is this?” You asked scandalized, turning the image to Kiera.

Kiera gave a shy smile. "We are more... open in Tyrosh." She explains, fiddling with the bangles on her arms, gold softly clinking. "It is not strange for men to have relations with men, and for women to have relations with other women."

You had stared at her, lips parted slightly in surprise. You yourself had never thought about things like that. The septons taught that relationships were between men and women, and that any other were abominations that shamed the seven. But you were a Targaryen, and queer customs taught by septons were of no matter to you when the dragon's blood ran strong.

"Have you ever been with a woman?" You asked boldly, unable to stop the flush creeping across your face. You both had spoken about improper topics before, but you had never been so prudent as to ask about her own experiences.

She laughed, then quieted down some as she grew serious. “No, I haven't, not fully.”

“Fully? What do you mean?” You inquire, leaning closer. This was new information, and you were very inquisitive.

Kiera scratched her head, cheeks heating up. “I’ve only gone as far as kissing. I am a noble Lady after all, I have not been improper with others.”

You shook your head, cheeks flaming. “I've never been kissed.” You admitted softly, and Kiera laughed in delight.

“I’m a Princess,” You defend quickly, “Like you said, I would not act improperly.”

Kiera leans in, lashes fluttering softly as a demure smile graces her face. “Would you like to try?” She asked softly, and your breath hitched.

You were a Princess, and you had duties. You understood your fathers worries now, about your closeness with Kiera. You had always done what the realm impressed upon you to do, what your family instilled into you. For a brief moment, you had waivered. You wanted. 

Your heart pounded as you nodded slowly, watching Kiera with half-lidded eyes. She giggled, scooting closer to you until she was sitting in front of you, knees touching yours.

The kiss had started softly, Kiera cupping your face with her soft hands as she brought her plush lips to your own. A peck, like you had seen Valaar give her on her wedding day. She leaned back, gauging your expression, before she leaned back in for more. Your fingers gripped the ends of her lavender nightgown, clammy and trembling, as she deepened the kiss. Her lips slotted firmly against yours, warm and inviting, and she tasted like the strawberries you shared over breakfast. You wanted it all.

You couldn't help the soft whine that slipped out, cheeks turning red in mortification. Kiera broke the kiss to laugh. Her warm hands were all over you, clutching over your body like you would disappear in an instant as she brought your foreheads together. She moved to straddle you, nightgown spilling over your sides. You gripped her tightly against yourself, her body heat seeping from the thin layer of her nightgown. You had one hand held firmly against her hip, the other tracing the column of her throat. 

“You try.” Kiera urged, grinning madly.

You used the hand on her throat to pull her closer to you, reveling in the dance of her rushing pulse against your palm. The kiss was all passion, warm and wet, and your blood rushed through your ears. It was maddening, the thrill of it all. Kiera threaded her hands through your hair, pulling softly at your scalp as she leaned into the kiss.

For a moment, it was just the two of you, no duty or demands. You and Kiera meshed into one being, one racing heart and one fire.

The two of you lay a giggling, panting mess, and resorted to cuddling with each other on your myrish rug as the two of you caught your breaths, surrounded by half opened chests. Your hand was tangled in Kiera's curls, the other curled firmly around her waist.

“I should have been born a Tyroshi lady.” You said, breaking the silence, and Kiera threw her head back in delight, warm laugh blessing your ears.

“I love you.” Kiera said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You press your noses together, stroking her cheek. “I don't care what the court thinks of us.” You declared. “I love you, Kiera, with everything I have in my heart. There is no other but you. Everytime we part, my soul yearns for you. It's unbearable.”

“I feel the same.” Kiera confesses, wrapping her arms around you tightly.

You lay together, locked in your embrace. You played with her curls and her hand gently stroked your back. You were warm, and you felt over the moon laying with Kiera. Yet, you couldn't push down the creeping guilt that lay in the back of your mind.

Valaar was your brother, and you had sullied yourself with his Lady Wife. But you didn’t feel like you had done anything wrong, not with Kiera. It had been natural, being with Kiera, like eating or breathing. It was going behind Valaar’s back, that bothered you.

You burrowed your face into the crook of Kiera's neck, closing your eyes.

It had been days later, when you walked the halls of the Red Keep, that you yourself had heard the whispers.

“The Princess and Lady Kiera are close, closer than friends should be.” A woman said, and her words had you dashing into a nearby alcove, hidden by shadow and dark stone.

“They are sisters by law,” A second voice spoke in defense, “It is only natural.”

“Well, you know how Targaryens feel about their relatives.” The first voice said, and the second woman grew silent at that.

You stood in your spot for a few moments, shocked at their words. When you were sure they had left, you emerged, and made for Kiera’s solar.

She had been embroidering when you burst into the room. Kiera jumped, and pressed a hand to her heart soothingly. “Gods!” She exclaimed.

You walk up to her, and it takes her a few moments to clock your distress. Kiera set her embroidery hoop to the side as she stood, furrowing her brows. “What’s wrong?” She asked, stepping toward you.

“The court whispers,” You say with a trembling lip. “They always have, I suppose. I hadn’t paid it mind, but their words grow louder.”

“Pay them no mind,” Kiera soothed, caressing your cheek, “They know nothing. It is just rumor.” 

You dropped your shoulders in defeat, hanging your head.

Her words held no help when you had yet again been summoned by your father.

“You should know by now,” Baelor comments, closing his book and stowing it on his desk, “What the court whispers when you leave the room.”

“I do!” You spit. “And the petty whispers of lesser men and women are of no consequence to me.”

“You are a representation of our family.” He argued, voice rising in frustration. “Everything you do has consequences, for you, for your grandfather, for the realm. I will no longer excuse this reckless abandon in which you act.”

“I'm not doing anything wrong, Father.” You pleaded, lip quivering. “I love her, and she is my dearest friend.”

He shook his head. “You know full well the two of you are more than friends, child.”

“And if we are?” You taunted, “Will you banish me from court? It will do no good, Father. It will only confirm what the rabble says.” You lift your chin in defiance. “Do you expect me to cast her away?” You challenged, not hiding the venom in your voice. “My good-sister, my future Queen?”

Your Father rubs his temple with his hand, eyes darkening. “I expect you to act as a proper Princess. To not bring shame upon this family.”

“Shame!” You exclaim, letting out a breathy laugh that was half shock, half anger. “There is nothing shameful about Kiera and I.”

“You will go to your brother, and you will confess to whatever you and Lady Kiera have done. I will defer to his judgement on what is to be done with you.” He orders, ignoring your words. “Ser Roland, escort the Princess to her brother.”

The knight bows. “At once, Your Grace.”

You stand in the center of the office, trembling with fury and fear and unnamed emotion swirling inside you. Your father stands, and he doesn't bother to spare you a glance as he cracks the seal of an unopened letter. His silence speaks volumes, and turns the room icy. You turn slowly to Ser Roland, and follow the knight out of the room.

The two of you remained in silence until you reached the chamber doors of your brother. Ser Roland looked down at you with sympathy. “The Prince has no ill-will towards you, Princess. He will be fair.”

You looked at him miserably, not bothering to answer your sworn sword. You push the doors to the room open, stepping inside.

Your brother stood by the fireplace, and had been staring into the flames until the thud of the door closing alerted him to your presence. He straightened, turning towards you.

“My Prince.” You said dutifully, giving your brother a half-hearted bow.

Valaar stiffened. “Your quarrel is not with me.” He defended. “I am your brother, not your executioner.”

You look down at your silk slippers in shame. It was you who had caused this strife in your family, and yet you had sulked like a child. Your fathers disappointment weighed heavy on you. 

Valaar walked towards you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You look up to meet eyes that were your own.

“You love Kiera, I’m not stupid,” Valaar said, and he surprised you when he took your hands into his, familiar warm palms engulfing yours. “And I’m not mad. You love her in ways I cannot. She is my duty, and I promise I will never treat her poorly. But the two of you are different."

“Valaar…”

“If it was to be anyone, I'm glad it was you.” Valaar admitted, and you clutched his arm tightly with a shaking grip, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I love you, Valaar.” You say in a half-sob, burying your face in his chest, clutching at the leather of his doublet.

He cradled your head, pressing a kiss to your crown. “And I love you, sister. I will handle Father, don’t worry about him.”

Kiera had been standing by the open window, biting at her nails as she stared off, lost in thought. Your intrusion snapped her from her reflections, and she strode over to you with trembling hands. 

“He knows,” You say, “Valaar has given his blessing.”

Kiera kneels in front of you, trembling hands caressing your waist. Her brown eyes were wide, tears spilling down her cheeks.

Your bottom lip wobbles, overcome with emotion. You bend over, pressing your foreheads together.

"Don't cry, my love." You whisper, taking her face into your hands and wiping her tears with your thumbs. "I hate it when you cry."

Her brown eyes are full of emotion, blinking rapidly to stave off the tears. “Everthing is as is should be,” She whispered, “With Valaar on our side, we are free to do as we please, as companions and dear friends.”

“The dearest friends.” You laughed, pressing a warm kiss to her lips.

When she first arrived, you had hoped to find a friend. You had found much more than you bargained for. You loved Kiera, more than you could ever bear. No matter any obstacle, you would always find your place back by her side.

[thebonesinmycloset]

Dunk wanted Aerion to make some mom/omega friends… Raymun was his friend… he thought this would be nice….

only for Aerion to be upset all the time about how pretty and 'small' and soft Raymun's bump is, and how he's glowing. and the man is too nice. pitying. it's disgusting. and why does Dunk want him to see this perfect, pretty, active omega? what's he trying to say?

cause Aerion is massive and feels gross all the time. he's sweaty and morning sick and bloated and the baby is massive. and all Dunk can think to say is "I think your perfect like this", cause truly, outside of Aerion's suffering, he does think he is gorgeous. with his "too big" belly and the stretch marks and the disheveled look. he is so handsome, carrying his babe. their babe.

Aerion might turn a little red before demanding Dunk hold him and never make him see Raymun again.

meanwhile Raymun, that sweet apple of a man, is truly admiring Aerion. he feels like carrying his litle one is hard, but Aerion is far more active than he is, and his babe is massive. he's trurly in awe.

[missmouse1223]

One of the things I think would be hilarious in the AKOTSK show is Dunk doing casual displays of strength without thinking on it.

Obviously he’s aware that he’s a bigger guy and therefore possesses a certain amount of strength that others don’t. Also he tries to be gentle and unassuming due to his size though it’s also his nature to be so.

However there are times when he doesn’t care to soften the rough edges of his body.

Like when he’s standing before the Targaryens and company after they’ve decided on a Trial of Seven. In this version of the scene, Maekar hasn’t dragged Aerion away (yet).

So when Dunk asks “Can I go?” And Baelor nods then gestures for the guards to move forward and undo the shackles binding his wrists.

Dunk shakes his head saying, “There’s no need for that, Your Grace.”

Everyone’s confused until the creaking of metal fills the chamber before a snapping sound echoes throughout.

Dunk moves his newly freed arms, the cuffs of the shackles still dangling from his wrists. “Ah, I’ll have to do these later.” He mutters to himself before bowing to the table and taking his leave.

Baelor is too stunned to speak. Maekar on the other hand is horrified.

It’s a feeling he hasn’t felt since the RedGrass. ‘That man would destroy my son. There’d be nothing left’ He thinks wildly, fearing for the trial now. Maeker turns to look at Aerion expecting fear as any sane man would be.

What Maekar finds is Aerion biting at the wound on his lip, reopening it. A flush has risen to his cheeks and he staring at the spot where the hedge knight was just standing. Maekar has seen that look before, on men who look ready to pounce when they see a pretty whore.

‘My son WANTS to be destroyed!!’

It’s then that Maekar drags him off, yelling “IDIOT!”

[sorrel-scribbles]

Cursed AKOTSK social media AU:

Tanselle is one of those tiktokers who makes dragon hand puppets. Dunk is a healthy lifestyle youtuber who focuses on low income people. Aerion has one of those conservative podcasts where you just know the host is a neo-Nazi but he hasn't come out and said it.

They all go to some sort of creator con, where Egg escapes from his family and just decides to follow Dunk around. Aerion is creepy to Tanselle during a meet and greet, when Dunk happens to be at the next table over.

The Trial of Seven is the absolute stupidest drama of the year, where they all go to some park after the con and just beat each other up over Tanselle's honor, with some other famous friends who felt like joining and for some reason Aerion's dad and uncle who are actual political figures who should definitely not be doing this. Rowan streams the entire thing on Twitch and it goes way too viral. She gets banned when Baelor bashes his head on a rock and some real blood gets shown (he ends up being ok), but it's ok because she makes most of her money from her...other platform.

Maekar and Baelor get a ton of bad press after, and so they agree to let Dunk come live in the family mansion as their kids' nanny as a gesture of goodwill. Dunk gets accused of being fake and a sellout but actually gains subscribers. Aerion gets hardcore cancelled after he makes a podcast episode defending his behavior and saying some crazy stuff about women and his siblings and decides he should move to Romania for a few years.

[legolasofmirkwoodforest]

It turns out Raymun is a huge fan of Rowan's Twitch, and they bond after the fight. Raymun ends up helping her get her Twitch back and now they're engaged, apparently???

While the press tnink Maekar and Baelor's actions are immature, social media *loves* the fact Baelor stood up for "the little guy," which saves his political career. Maekar's career is saved when a video of him screaming at Aerion to stop being such a fucking idiot goes viral.

Aemon is one of those supergeniuses who gets into university at ten. Daeron has a YouTube channel where he tries to find various cryptids. He is completely convinced Dunk is Bigfoot's son. He just can't prove it yet.

[sorrel-scribbles]

Raymun and Rowan get accused of faking the relationship for clout because nobody gets married that fast. When Rowan reveals she's pregnant someone posts a tiktok trying to prove she cheated on her ex boyfriend with Raymun because the timeline doesn't match up to when they said they met. Rowan is forced to explain that she didn't cheat but the real father isn't in the picture.

Manfred Dondarrion (who is a shooting game streamer who collabed with Rowan a couple of times) has a twitter crashout about how all women are liars who will leave you and ruin your life around the same time. Debates continue over whether or not this is related.

[incorrect-gotverse]

this is actual gold and now i’m tempted to do a twitter/tiktok socmed of this here

[joonpoulain]

Omega Maekar and Aerion who both happen to be pregnant at the same time.

Aerion comes to visit his family at Red Keep to announce his pregnancy (with Dunk towers behind him). Baelor and Maekar also exchange the pregnancy news to Aerion which the latter replies like ‘how coincidence it is that we are also expecting at the same time, mother’ and thus confuses both Baelor and Maekar because seven hells, Aerion’s belly is so enormous that they think he almost passes the seventh moons.

‘So twins it is then’

‘No the maester already confirmed that I carry one babe, mother’

Maekar spends his entire pregnancy believing that his son’s pregnancy is more advanced than him. Sometimes when both expecting omegas are seen taking a walk side by side, every servant and guard can discern how ridiculous the size comparison of their bellies.

Months later, maesters and midwives are sent into chaos as both King’s consort and Prince go into labor simultaneously. What surprises them most is while Aerion gives birth to a single large baby (but still small in Dunk’s hands), it’s Maekar who gives birth to twins (cut to Baelor who is sweating bullets, because he already promised Maekar that Rhae is going to be their last baby).

[thebonesinmycloset]

Aerion was for sure a mama's boy when it comes to Maekar, his muña, when he was a boy, between 5 or so and his presentation. he was his little twin, his shadow. always following muña around, holding onto the hem of his tunic, or gathering behind his knee, or insisting to be held when he was really little. he's the grumbliest little pup, letting out little puppy grumbles and growls and baring his tiny milk fangs at anyone who looks at his muña too long. he nips at anyone, mainly Baelor, who tries to steal affections from Maekar. it's actually been a bit of a scandal that the prince has bitten several lords. several.

when Maekar takes Baelor as his new alpha, the little pup (who's scent is already starting to hint that he'll be an omega, which makes his behavior all the funnier) is not having it. he's so fiesty with Baelor, making sure Baelor knows his muña is his first. he'll worm his way into their bed at night, getting between them, and making his little puppy attempts at scenting mama, growling at Baelor (who finds it adorable)

and he's super clingy. he wants to be under muña's skin. he wants muña to give him all his attention.

this continues for years, even when Baelor wins Aerion over, all the way until he presents as an Omega at 13, and even then he is just like his papa. an Omega, yes, but he has no interest in being soft or gentle with anyone other then hypothetical pups he claims he doesn't want (Maekar said the same. and then had six). and he is still very tightly bound to his mama and defensive, not caring that his scent was sweet and his fangs were nothing compared to an alphas. the only reason his "muña's boy" days end, is because the terrible teens start around there and he is pretending like he can't stand his muña (he still snarls at alpha's that dare to get too forward in public when they have family outings)

[this was intended to be funny, but in writing it, I thought about Dyanna... and how this behavior likely came out, goig from just being a muña's boy, to this aggressive, snappy pup, after she died— which in the case of Omega Maekar, I think that Rhae was the little 'miracle baby' of the couple. by pure fate and the longest odds possible, Maekar got Dyanna, an Alpha, pregnant. only for her body to not be able to withstand the labor —he doesn't want to lose this mama. and he doesn't want Baelor getting muña pregnant and making her leave them too. so he's trying to be a strong pup. and alpha pup. and protect muña.]

[darcystarlizzie]

On the mutant road trip:

The Car The Hotel

[darcystarlizzie]

On the mutant road trip:

The Hotel The Car

[veevil]

[jackyjango]

Secret Mutant Madness 2025 - Works Revealed

Works have been revealed for Secret Mutant Madness 2025!

However, you can continue to fill prompts till the collection closes on 20th December 2025, 5PM UTC.

As always, please spread the word!

[homogenic512]

CHOO CHOO!!! CHERIK TRAIN DELIVERING AN 11K WORDS CHAPTER!!!!

Ch. 8 Summary: Erik is determined to never speak to Charles again. But the loser in love can't resist the invitation to a sleepover at the Xavier residence.

[zinthelost]

It's always bad but abilism in a cherik fic is extra awful. Like what are you even doing in this ship?You have thousands of able-bodied ships to pick from. At the very least, be honest and tag it.

I don't need to stumble on your fic loaded with bs like grabbing the handles of a chair users chair, jokes about ridiculous accessibility aids, followed by a "Charles can walk again" plot.

Seriously. The disrespect.

[4outof5ghostslikemynightmares]

Oh jeez, this essay of The Truth of Canonically Disabled Charles Xavier got away from me here, but I'm hoping that it'll help. Context: I'm disabled, have been a wheelchair user, and have shipped Cherik for over a decade. Tone: Frustrated, but informative -- not angry or hateful Note: If this guide and your own internet research isn't enough, I @4outof5ghostslikemynightmares will 100% welcome any questions in my ask box! PLEASE ASK A DISABLED PERSON IF IT'S THAT OR, WELL, ASSUME! The Essay™: For us disabled folks, especially those of us who are or have been wheelchair users (and you're damned RIGHT that that includes ambulatory wheelchair users that can walk) this is even more painful. It's a reminder that even in a space that should literally be embracing our CANONICALLY DISABLED CHARACTER -- we're undesirable, we're the butt of jokes, and we're inconvenient to your storyline. Our disability means that even the other half of our heart and soul, our supposed love, would no longer be able to find us in the overwhelm of our changes/differences. Does that SOUND like Erik?!

Look, in the year of our lord 2024 going on 2025, there are SO MANY resources online where you can read the stories of or hear them directly from YouTube and TikTok creators describing and showing their day-to-day realities -- so I DO NOT WANT TO HEAR THAT IT'S THAT YOU'RE ALL INTIMIDATED WITH WRITING CANONICALLY DISABLED CHARLES.

It is literally better to gloss over certain aspects than to write out a part of what makes Charles Xavier himself. Act like the MOVIES did and just show a little, don't cut it out! I love when fics don't ignore the inconvenience of writing Canonically Disabled Charles Xavier but lean into it full force and have him be just as a whole as he would believe himself to be. I love when fics focus on Erik wanting to make it all good for Charles despite his disability changing his sex life.

While I was somewhat physically disabled at birth (and have other nonphysical disability not relevant to this), I got life-changingly ill at 18 and by 19 and 20, I was a different person. At 30, I'm unrecognizable, because it's changed me so. For the better, in many ways -- I'm waaaay more patient, empathetic, helpful, and understanding than I was pre-disability.

A disability like being put in a wheelchair, like being freaking paralyzed, is so disruptive and changing of your day-to-day, moment-to-moment existence that it has NO comparison, get it? It's essentially the equivalent of waking up as a new person that YOU YOURSELF don't even know yet. I mean, Days of Future Past Charles showed us a great deal of how hard he was struggling...and I honestly interpreted much of that to be struggling with every aspect of his "New Life" Here's a bit of a guide for those of y'all so intimidated by Disabled!Charles Xavier that you veer headlong into ableism:

Things that a disabled person (especially a wheelchair user like Charles) would NEVER allow and is INCREDIBLY ABLEIST:

-Someone, apropos of nothing putting their hands on their wheelchair -- whether to help guide, to push them somewhere, or AT ALL even to get it out of the way if you're not in it

-Someone just fuckin' pushing ya where they want ya (YOU WOULDN'T GET THAT FAR WITH A TELEPATH LOL!) -Routine jokes like Logan's "What do they call you, 'Wheels'?" if you're not just a Bitch™ that they (I would) would find funny enough

Things a disabled person would probably do that some people will STILL call ableism:

-make FUCKED UP dark jokes about themselves and their capabilities -- ones that make the ableds insanely unsure of whether they can laugh too or not (yes, if I'm making the joke or if I know you're Cool™)

-make equally fucked up dark jokes about their accessibility devices (walkers, canes, wheelchairs, shower chairs, lifts, pillow wedges, and potentially embarrassing things like adult diapers/absorbent pads for the bed)

Things that YOU CAN AND SHOULD WRITE ABOUT WITH A CANONICALLY DISABLED CHARACTER:

-sex -- believe it or not, even the highest physical support needs people (think: tetraplegic folks who have little to no control over their limbs) like, want, and have sex. If you don't believe me, I guarantee you can find disabled folks on OF or other sites.

--expanding on sex: there are so many ways that an individual can have fulfilling sex or orgasms (listed as or because not everybody needs to come in order to find the act fulfilling, DESPITE what porn and porn fic tells ya!). Charles could be unable to feel his genitals and still orgasm elsewhere, for one thing! For another: MOBILITY AIDS/SEX AIDS for disabled folks are a thing. If you think Charles Flirtation Xavier wouldn't know of these or own some, you don't know this character very well. There are wedges, there are TOYS for interabled couples, there is special furniture, there are even slings a bit like regular sex swings lol. If you can imagine it, it's probably out there!

-mobility aids in the disabled community are extensions of us. Like they shouldn't just be grabbed -- with or without us in them, they shouldn't be ignored. You wouldn't grab my whole body? You wouldn't push me outta the way?

-Non-Ambulatory wheelchair users like Charles, as evidenced by X-Men Apocalypse, I believe, would have MULTIPLE wheelchairs. Ones like the one we most associate with him, what we see down in the Danger Room/X-Men rooms; ones like the one we see him teaching in during Apocalypse -- with more comfortable padding for his bottom and legs; traditional "push" wheelchairs that most people think of when they think "wheelchair" -- the heavier ones with handles and higher backs like the one Charles uses when Scott blows up the tree in Apocalypse;

and most importantly, "travel" chairs like we see Charles in at the end of Dark Phoenix -- these are expensive AF, tailored to your size, with lower backs, NO HANDLES, and are typically designed to be more light weight, easily maneuverable for the user, and ideal for things like his trip to Paris. Heck, I bet you didn't even know that they make special wheelchairs for SAND and BEACHES, huh? These distinctions are as important as wearing the right shoes -- Charles could not transverse terrain in some kinds of chairs as the wheels wouldn't handle it, he especially by the 80s would be switching it up fairly frequently for his own ease of transport and frankly COMFORT.

-You can be vague about where his sensation stops/what his precise injury is and you can write Charles this way -- like abled people, we don't always know our body's limitations or precisely where they're at on a day to day basis -- especially with something that you've grown used to. That's difficult to articulate but true. Heck, even articulating our bodies can be different.

-Easy ways of including Charles' disability: describe him transferring in and out of the 'chair(s), mention him locking his chair's wheels in order to stay still, casually mention a shower chair during an intimate morning after scene, have Erik notice the differences in the mansion's layout/furniture height/bathrooms/etc, mention the occasional lack of physical grace that can come with disabilities of all flavors that make us feel silly but most of us can laugh about, mention Erik having to bend awkwardly to kiss him and have Charles tease him that it's Erik fault for being tall, just...treat him like a whole person who merely has a unique aspect to him that even if he woke up with Brand New Legs™ a la Lt. Dan in Forrest Gump tomorrow morning -- would still have left him a different man.

Furthermore, for Charles Xavier to still be so independent after such an extreme disability, this man is tough as nails, and that's without mentioning the fact he must be regularly working out and doing occupational therapy given how he still retained enough muscle tone to a) be visible and not visibly different after DECADES in a chair and b) be able to withstand literally being forced to walk by Jean in the Dark Phoenix movie -- even with her powers, I still think he'd have been more...rag doll esque -- but this last paragraph is primarily just my observations as an ambulatory wheelchair user.