#v; ashes&magic

[italianexotiicbeauty]

there’s little i wouldn’t do for you. [ from bart. ]

𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠  \  sentence starter pack,  i.  // @stcllata

‘ And this is why you're my best friend,’ The metahuman thought to herself while giving Bart a genuine smile. They had been best friends since around 2012 or so — the first time she ever set foot in Metropolis.  That seemed like such a lifetime ago, because not long after she ended up married and then after divorcing Carter ? She moved to Denver and only ever came back to Kansas when Clark, Bart or Ollie asked her to. “I know Zippy, an’ I really do appreciate it.” The smile was still there as she leaned in to give him a hug, releasing him a moment or two later.

“I know things haven't been … exactly easy right now since findin’ out Carter is back an’ all. “ To say things had been rocky wouldn’t be an understatement. “ — But I can't nor will I ever ask ya to pick sides, ‘cause that's unfair to do. We're adults, I should be able to be in a room with ‘im and not feel the overwhelming urge to break the glass holdin’ his dearly departed wife's mace to crack his skull open with.” She sighed a little bit, leaning back on the bench. “An’ yes I've thought ‘bout that which is probably why Clark sticks around me more than anyone else during a JSA meetin’ or has Ollie do it if he can't be there.” A shake of her head followed, “ — S'why I think for at least the next few months … maybe into next year? I won't be comin’  back when asked to, just to work on my issues of bein’ abandoned like that an’ allowing myself to forgive him but not forget how it made me feel… if that makes any kind of sense.” 

[clockworkbee]

When Elias Veturius changed his grandfather's mantra to one of his own for Laia, and when Kell Maresh used the antari commands to teach them to Lila but also make love to her, and when Julian Blackthorn used the very parabatai vows' that forbid love to defy them and express his love physically to Emma and when Cardan Greenbriar kind of begged Jude to lie to him when he always dreamed of that coming from her? That's EVERYTHING to me 🤌🏼

[silverselfshippingchaos]

when you can see his eyes behind his shades, I get all 😳

[starsallalight]

Open to family or friends

“Father?” Ella tearfully whispered to the silent, still garden. “I know I promised that I’d never leave here… But after tonight, I don’t see how I can stay… If you only knew how she’s changed, you’d understand. I deserve better, Father! I deserve to be loved, and that’s what I found out tonight. And that’s all that really matters.”

[thewisecheerio]

Elden Ring and Disability

Elden Ring is filled with disabled characters. What I love about the specific way that Elden Ring uses disability, though, is that there is almost always a lore-compliant accommodation provided to the disabled character. This world filled with magic doesn't erase disability, but rather finds magical and lore-compliant ways of accommodating it, much like Star Trek:

Here is some of the disability representation within Elden Ring.

First Generation Albinaurics

First generation albinaurics are synthetic humanoids. Their legs do not function normally, so they are unable to locomote by walking. In the worst cases where no accommodations are provided, we see them crawling to move. But we get two really cool examples of ways to accommodate this disability:

First, we have Latenna the Albinauric. Normally when you summon her as a spirit ash, she functions as a static archer due to the state of her legs. However, if you summon her near a wolf, she will climb onto the wolf and ride it around to avoid enemy attacks and even gains a new attack (freezing mist) with the help of her ride. This puts the onus on you, the player, to make sure that you summon her under accommodating circumstances if you want her to be able to move. And of course, you could also choose not to, accepting her disabled self as-is as a perfectly great battle companion.

You can see a video of the wolf companion in action here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=st6vGIpsHLs

Second, we have Commander Gaius. Gaius is also a first generation albinauric with non-functional legs. But you'd almost never know without reading his lore or looking closely at his model, because is accommodated. He rides his Battle Tank Boar into your fight and has absolutely no problem wiping the floor with your sorry ass.

In both cases, a support animal functioning as a mobility aid allows the first generation albinaurics to locomote.

Malenia, Blade of Miquella

Malenia is missing some limbs due to the Scarlet Rot infection she was cursed with at birth rotting. She is also blind due to the sickness taking her sight. However, Malenia is still able to fight you (and win and win and win and win and...). There are two accommodations at play, the first of which is canon and the second of which is a canon-compliant fanon.

The first is the prosthetics made by the Shaded Castle. Malenia's iconic blade is physically attached to her arm prosthetic, allowing her to wield it in battle regardless of the lack of (natural) limb.

Fun fact: this is based on a real, historical practice with armor where old armor was recycled into prosthetics! There was even a mercenary famed for using a prosthetic limb to hold his sword after an accident that damaged his arm. You can learn more here (timestamp 16:58): https://youtu.be/PJwNjOvn-Ow?t=1018

The second accommodation that allows Malenia to be battle-functional is the water in her battleground. Because she is blind, she can listen for the player character's movement in the water, responding in a Daredevil-esque way. This is probably helped by the fact that her blade instructor--the blind swordsman named in the Blue Dancer Charm--was also blind and likely taught her how to accommodate that disability.

Millicent

Like her mother Malenia, Millicent is also afflicted by the Scarlet Rot. We find her alone and largely non-functional in the Church of the Plague at the beginning of her questline, writhing in pain. We then bring her the Unalloyed Needle, which keeps the Scarlet Rot at bay, relieving pain and allowing her to travel once more. Toward the end of her questline, Millicent removes the needle, which brings the Rot back in full force and ends her life.

In this way, the Unalloyed Needle functions as a treatment regimen for a chronic illness. It does not cure her, but it keeps the illness in check well enough for her to function.

The fact that Millicent chooses to remove the needle at the end of her quest is Important! Disabled people aren't under any obligation to "meet their potential" or continue treatment because it is convenient for others; if they wish to stop their treatment—even to accept palliative care—that is their right. Anything less disrespects their bodily autonomy and choice to make their own decisions. The fact that we get this representation in Millicent, who actively chooses against continuing her treatment after a certain point, is Good and Important.

And of course, we also provide Millicent with a prosthetic from the Shaded Castle, same as her mother. Once properly accommodated in this way, she can fight by your side as an NPC summon.

Messmer the Impaler

A lot of people speculate that Messmer is blind. This is because his left eye is (as far as we know) permanently shut, while his right eye appears to be a grace-filled synthetic seal rather than an eyeball. It's entirely possible that the grace seal does allow vision, but there are a couple of reasons to consider why it might not:

1) When we first arrive, Messmer is sitting in the dark. You could interpret this as being a Sad, Broody, Wet Blanket (which he is), or you could interpret this as evidence that things like light and dark are of less consequence to him than to a sighted person. Or, you know, both. A Sad, Broody, Blind, Wet Blanket.

2) Shortly after he lights candles--probably for your benefit--he sends one of his snakes into your face. He is able to tell from what the snake sees that you are Tarnished and comments on it. We can tell this means he can see what the snake sees, because he would have to figure this out from looking at your eyes and only the snake is close enough to do so.

This suggests that the snakes function as a remote viewing aid, providing a sight accommodation. And yes, again you could choose to interpret the snakes as existing in addition to a sighted right eye, but it is still interesting to consider what they mean if they are simply Support Noodles.

Ranni and Melina

There is a syndrome in our world called Locked-In Syndrome, in which paralysis prevents the entire body from moving with (usually) the sole exception of the eyes. As a consequence, the disabled person is unable to affect the physical world without help due to an inability to physically interact with the world around them.

Ranni and Melina have a similar situation going on, but with different ways of dealing with it. They are both disembodied spirits, having lost their physical bodies.

Ranni chooses to deal with the problem by incarnating herself into a doll's body at least twice: once as the doll's body we spend most of her quest interacting with, and later as a tiny actual-doll-sized doll that the player can interact with. Essentially, she has given herself a prosthetic that allows her to interact with the physical world once more.

Meanwhile, Melina goes a different route. Rather than incarnate physically, Melina requests that the player character help her reach her goal--the foot of the Erdtree, and then the Forge. In this case, we provide the physical support necessary for Melina to interact with the world, much as support workers do for those unable to care for themselves.

Goldmask

Goldmask never speaks to us in words. Rather, he communicates largely via physical movements. Brother Corhyn, a pupil of Goldmask, refers to his master's communication as "the movement of his finger". When Goldmask stops his movements, Corhyn reacts with distress, "I'm a little shaken since the master ceased his movements." He then proceeds to translate what the movements meant up to that point for us.

The fact that Corhyn is distressed at the master's lack of further communication after his movements cease suggests that this is his *only* mode of communication with him.

This is entirely a canon-compliant headcanon, but I like to believe that this means Goldmask uses sign language that Corhyn is learning to interpret in order to communicate with him. Additionally, the fact that we cannot necessarily interpret it ourselves and must rely on Corhyn to translate means that Corhyn is also acting as a support worker by being Goldmask's translator.

And yes, I think this is largely to poke fun at the Gesture system in the game, but it's also fun disability representation!

This list isn't exhaustive. There are yet other characters that either are disabled or could be easily argued to be so, like Roderika (grief and/or PTSD, given a space to heal and process), Rennala (depression and/or grief, NOT accommodated AFAICT), and Hyetta (blind, accommodated with...uh..."treatments"). But the fact that this post is already over 1400 words and has yet to touch upon all of the disability representation in the game just shows you how much there is.

[artficlly]

smog & spirits: spirit-raiser (mini-series)

Gangster/Peaky Blinders Inspired Fantasy AU

gangsterboss!bucky x witch!reader Bucky Barnes, the leader of Sootstone's Smog Boys, needs a favour. A nasty curse has been cast on him, and you are the witch he has chosen to help him break it.

Warnings: 18+ content minors dni, smut, fem reader, begging, orgasm denial, fingering, p in v, no aftercare, sex magic, blood magic, potion for arousal, curses and hexes, witchcraft, possession, mediums, if you squint theres some plot, smoking, mention of death/violence/torture, mention of police brutality, vaguely british setting??, no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 8k

A/N: hey. don't ask. this idea came to me a few days ago and i wrote it all out in like two sessions at 2am. i want to write more for this, i have so many ideas for some more one-shot style interactions. this just got so long so quickly so i had to cut some stuff. sorry for any typos - not proof read and edited while half asleep lol.

main masterlist | series masterlist

You did not remember leaving your door unlocked. 

The fog that settled over the smokey, portside district of Sootstone was suffocating. Despite it being only midday, the entire neighbourhood was cast into a muggy gloom. The sun could not break through the thick smog that comfortably nestled itself along the windy streets of The Warrens. The stench of smoke and fish hung heavy in the air, with sweaty dockworkers and dirty children darting between alleys. In your short journey to and from the small Sunday market, you had nearly been bowled over thrice by oblivious residents. 

The Warrens, or Sootstone Port, as it was formally known, was not a pleasant place. Home to the working class and the rotted underbelly of the city of Blackstone. The high society chatters liked to forget such a place existed, as it was simply not a charming place to think about. Most worked the ports, ferrying in the sea trade. Others worked in the Smokestack district, manufacturing metal in factories that pumped ash and soot into the air. There were also the select few who turned to other trades, such as pubs, hotels, brothels, or even those who were forced into a life of joblessness on the streets. 

The Warrens weren’t so imaginatively named. It was a clever joke among high-society gossipers that the poor fucked like rabbits and lived in their elaborate winding burrows, from which they rarely emerged for air. The people of Sootstone had accepted the insult, finding the whole metaphor rather hilarious. That was because the Warreners could take a joke, unlike the condescending crowd of high society. It could also be argued that the residents of The Warrens could not come up with a better metaphor, as most were not educated in any sense. 

Perhaps the mixture of smog and that lack of an education had finally made it to your head. You were left standing, perplexed, as your front door swung open without so much of a nudge. The lock was normally a sticky one, leaving you to jiggle the knob and slam your shoulder against the frame until it came unstuck. Never in your two years of living in the tiny flat had you ever witnessed such a sight. 

You would’ve thought it a miracle if it weren’t for the implications. 

It was true that The Warrens were notorious for crimes. Theft, assault, and murder. Even if coppers paraded the streets, they weren’t truly there to stop criminals. No, they were more interested in beating any poor innocents that got in their way. It was better to find protection from vigilante gangs who roamed Sootstone’s streets, scrapping like stray dogs over territories. As much as those uninvolved in such business were afraid of them, they also respected them. Their deeds weren’t always motivated by blood and destruction; the gangs stood to protect their communities as no one else would. 

Even if you and your surrounding neighbours were under the protection of Barnes’ Smog Boys, it was definitely still alarming to see a group of them gathered in your small kitchen. 

“Lookie who's home.” One of the men cooed at the sight of you. He stood closest to the door, one hand tucked in his jacket pocket while the other fiddled with a toothpick that hung from his lips. His blond hair was slicked back, tucked under a flatcap. Steve Rogers. The Smog Boys right hand man. Next to him was Sam Wilson, his stocky form leaning against your rickety cupboards. His gaze was fixed on a silver pocket watch he had tightly secured in his left palm, a short chain draping across his vest. He glanced up at Steve’s words, a wicked smirk crossing his lips at the sight of you. 

“Sunday market?” Sam queried, and you drew your woven basket closer. There was an unsettling sneer in his voice. 

The Smog Boys were one of seven gangs that roamed the underbelly of Blackstone. Their territories lay in the fog of Sootstone Port and the smokey streets of the Smokestack district and The Warrens. You could commonly see them stalking the streets, dressed in all black with their flatcaps and slicked back hair. They moved through the smog like ghosts, navigating the twisting streets with an unnatural ease. Some called them ghouls; others called them saviours from the fog. 

The final man, the worst of them all, was Bucky Barnes. He sat across from you, half obscured by your small dining table. He had laid a box of cigarettes and matches on the marked wood. One was smoking between his lips, his head angled down and cocked to one side, as he assessed you with a look of boredom. There was a terrifying edge of calculation in his gaze as he evaluated you. He was just as large as the other two men, with muscles poorly hidden beneath his black, tailored suit. His hair, similarly to Steve's, was slicked back, and the sides buzzed. A 5’oclock shadow ghosted his jawline, but overall, his appearance was unsettlingly neat. 

Not a speck of ash or soot. As if he had just appeared within your flat, blinking into existence rather than having walked The Warrens like any other mere mortal. 

You had never seen the man in person. No. If the Smog Boys were ghosts, Bucky certainly lived up to the name. He was an enigma, a haunting story whispered between children. He had clawed his way up to a position of power from the gutters of The Warrens, bloodshed and all. He was a notorious skirt-chaser, his handsome appearance and strong build drawing in women from all classes. Looking at him now, despite the terror congealing in your blood, you could understand the appeal. 

“Why’re you here?” You ask hesitantly. Unlike the gangsters before you, you were not pristine by any means. Falling ash had coated your shoulders, staining the tartan fabric of the mantle draped over your shoulders. Your hair was swept up under a head scarf, which was also covered in a layer of soot and dust from the smokestacks. Even your worn leather boots were not safe; mud and filth caked onto the heels and sides. The streets of The Warren had never known any type of cleanliness. 

“Come to introduce ourselves. Don’t think we’ve ever met before, ‘least I think I would’ave remembered a pretty face like yours.” Steve speaks up, a gleam in his eye. His tone is playful yet somehow cruel. The chuckle he and Sam share rattles you. The two of them were also said to try their luck with the women who crowded around, searching for the thrill of a gangster lover.

“You might’ave mistaken me for someone else… I’ve lived here two years now.” You speak with a continued caution. With precise movements, as to not brush either of the hulking men crowding the kitchen entrance, you place your basket on a nearby surface. Even the cloth that you have thrown over the items is coated in a layer of ash. 

“We know.” Sam says, twisting his body. He lifts up the cloth, inspecting the food beneath. You know it is nothing exciting—some bread, fish, and vegetables. As well as a handful of sweets you gave to the children of your neighbour. You keep your mouth shut as Sam dips into the white and red striped paper bag and pops one of the sweets into his mouth with a satisfied hum. 

Steve pushes himself off the wall, his jacket brushing against you. He was far taller than you, tall enough that he had to crane his neck down in order to whisper in your ear. “A lil’ birdy told us you’re a spirit-raiser.” 

“I—No.” You stumble over your words, eyes darting between the three men. Bucky is still silent, still like a cat hunting a mouse. The gaze he assessed you with was one of a predator, taking a slow drag from his cigarette. He doesn’t crack a smile as the two men beside you laugh between themselves. 

To fend off some anxious energy, you make quick work of unknotting your headscarf. Ash and dust flutter to the ground as you shake out the fabric, a frown etched across your features. You could not help but let your mind wonder to the stories you had heard growing up. You were a lifelong resident of The Warrens, only moving to live on your own after sickness claimed your mother. You father had passed long before that, lost to drink. 

“What do you call yourself then? Hm?” Steve asks, breath hot against your cheek. You flinch as he pulls a fleck of ash from your hair. In the stories, they would speak of men with their tongues cut out. Bodies that were filled with bricks, then stitched back up and sunk to the bottom of the Sootstone Port. Men were found hanged from street lights, severely beaten, with sections of skin along their thighs and chest peeled off with a blade. And those were only the bodies coppers found. 

“I prefer witch.” You correct, brows furrowing. Your head turns to look at the gangster, wary of how close his fingers lingered. Teeth bared in a grin, he blows a soft breath across your hair, the last of the ash unsettled as it floats away. You can smell tobacco on his breath—a familiar scent to you.

“I need a favour.” Bucky finally speaks up, his voice low. Your gaze snaps to meet his. 

You blink. “A favour?”

You jump as Bucky finally moves, his foot jerking as he kicks the seat opposite him. The chair scrapes across the hardwood floors, stopping centimetres before your boots. 

“Sit.” He commands. 

Sam’s hand finds the back of your neck, a soft push guiding you in the direction of the free space. You obey, your knee bouncing as you take a seat. You sit near the edge of the chair, leaving some distance between yourself and the table. As if sensing your desire to bolt, Steve sweeps up behind you, pushing the chair in until you are fully tucked in. Then, with mocking laughter, Sam and Steve take a seat on either side of you. 

“No one told me there was any issue about magic—” You begin. Steve snickers beside you, returning to fiddling with the toothpick still poking from his mouth. 

“A favour.” Bucky repeats, exhaling smoke from his nose. Sam leans back in his seat, legs spread so widely that his knee touches yours. You shrink back as far as possible. “I’m no copper. I don’t care what you practitioners get up to.”

You find yourself blinking in surprise once more. Magic was a subject that divided many, mostly due to it’s misunderstood nature. High society treated magic as another lavish hobby or skill, with some even going to private schools to turn their gifts into professions with the right licences. Of course, the people of the lower-class were banned from performing such tricks unless they were in possession of the right permits. Due to the nature of the slums being, well, impoverished, unlicensed magic ran rampant through the streets. It wasn’t uncommon knowledge that an entire blackmarket of forbidden arts ran in the backalleys and warehouses of The Warren. Places where those needing particular services could find them for a much more convenient price than in the higherclass areas of Blackstone. 

You had kept your services rather secretive, never using your real identity with clients. It was a precaution to not have coppers knocking down your door in the middle of the night. It seemed, despite your best efforts, that nothing flew past Bucky Barnes. But then again, nothing seemed to fly past the gangster. He knew of every black market and every whisper of illegal activity in the slums. It would be foolish to believe he was unaware of you; however, why did he specifically sort you out? Now that was a mystery. 

“I don’t understand—” You choke out, head whipping back and forth as you look between the men. 

Bucky sighs loudly in annoyance, loud enough that you flinch back. He puts out the remains of his cigarette on your dining table, the smouldering dip leaving a black, circular mark on the wood. He digs into one of the pockets of his vest, revealing a large pendant necklace. The chain is silver, with an oval shaped jewel hanging from the centre. The silver that encrusts it in place is swirled, ensuring there are no gaps for it to escape. Sam and Steve fall quiet, any feeling of twisted amusement dropping from the room. Bucky slides the necklace across the table.

You recoil. This time not out of fear, but rather from the aura the necklace exudes. 

Goosebumps rise across your skin, and bile rises in your throat. There was a wickedness in the air, as if all the light and sweetness in the world were sucked into an empty, yawning void. The world feels still, as if even the ash outside has failed to fall. The room is cast into a sickening silence, a silence so strong that even the surrounding world refuses to push through. You can no longer hear the people walking through the winding streets of The Warren, not the clang of metal from the smokestacks or the cry of the dockworkers. 

Rot. 

It is the only word that comes to your mind. It is as if the jewel itself is rotten, potent, and putrid. An invisible smell so strong you nearly gag. Your skin crawls the longer you stare, as if you rot along with it—bugs squirming beneath your flesh, the taste of dirt in your mouth.  

“What’s this?” You asked, your voice strained. You know the blood has drained from your face. Bucky looks at you with curiosity. 

“You tell me.”

You look down at the necklace. Dread rises once more, and the chill of soil settles across your shoulders. You twist your head and your neck, feeling uncomfortable and strained the longer you gaze upon the necklace. 

There was something terribly, terribly wrong about it. 

“There’s a… a sickness… a rot—a curse.” You stumble over your words, your entire body squirming against your will. The feeling of dread swims through you; the sensation that you need to get as far away as possible reverberates down your spine. 

“Becca was right.” Steve sings somewhere besides you, but you barely register his words. 

“Where’d you find this?” You ask. The room is tighter than usual, with the rickety, peeling cabinets closing in around you. The oven screeches on its iron legs, the yellowed wallpaper crushing closer and closer. Your head falls into your hands, elbows propped onto the table. You let out a shuddering breath, trying to rid yourself of the sickly feeling. You rub your fingers up your face, pinching the bridge of your nose, then massaging your forehead

“It was given to me. As a gift.” As he speaks, you reluctantly open your eyes once more. The room has returned to as you remember, your vision less dizzying as you take in a deep gulp of air, your heart thundering in your ears. You must make a face, because it prompts him to speak once more. 

“My sister has a sensitivity. She is convinced—”

“There’s a spirit attached to that jewel.” You interrupt before thinking. Your knees bounce beneath the table, your feet shaking. Your entire being screams that you need to get away from the object. You do not care for politeness or fear of these men, as the horror in your heart you felt gazing upon the necklace greatly outweighed any potential anxieties of the future.

“Yes.” His voice matches his composure—cool and collected. Wholly unaffected by the horrific aura cast by the necklace. Bucky and his men were not magically inclined. They were completely oblivious to the calamity that sat before them. 

“The spirits're attached to you, too.” You pause, the feeling of bile rising in your throat once more. “You need to get it lifted.”

“That’s where the favour comes in, doll.”

“I don’t…?” You nearly doubled over. “Please get rid of it. I can’t—”

Barnes leans forward, slowly dragging the necklace over the wood. He slowly deposits it into his breast pocket, watching with curiosity as you sag in relief. You would need to burn this table after they left. You could still sense the rot engrained in the pores of the wood. 

“I need to speak with the spirit attached.”

Your forearms lay flat on the table, and you rest your head against them as you try to remember how to breathe. A wave of exhaustion rolls over you. Was this how they tortured their victims? Wore them down into pathetic, panting messes? Were you about to become another body at the bottom of the Sootstone port? You mumble into the fabric. “I can’t raise a spirit without a name.”

“I know her name.”

You pause, lifting your head slowly. “You want to ask her how to break it? You may know her, but spirits’re tricksters they won’t always give ya the correct information—”

“I know how to deal with her.”

You arch a brow, unsure.

“She’s a scorned lover.” Sam whispers beside you. You jump, having forgotten the two other men sitting besides you. Bucky scowls at his words—the most emotion he has shown in the entire time. 

“Everyone knows you don’t ‘ave a witch for a moll unless you’re gonna marry her.” Steve butts in, and the two men share a chuckle. 

“Shut your mugs. The both of ya.” Bucky snarls, and they both fall silent, although you can’t help but notice their bemused smiles. After a brief, tense silence, the gangster settles back into his seat, tipping his chin upward in a nod. “Morwenna Blackthorn.”

You hesitate, glancing between the three men. They watch you expectantly, relaxing back into their respective seats. Given their status and reputation, you had to presume they were familiar with the workings of underground magic. Licenced practitioners would have clients sign lengthy documents for protection in the event of a spell or session backfiring. The Warrens did not have such luxuries—if you made a mistake, no one could protect you or them from the consequences. 

You inhale sharply, placing your hands palms down on the table. The wood hums beneath your touch, the invisible vapours of the curse tickling your flesh. With a roll of your shoulders, you exhale slowly, allowing your body to relax. 

Ink drips across your vision, swirling darkness millimetres before your eyes. You stare hard into the invisible void, searching blindly through the tendrils of smoke. Morwenna Blackthorn. Morwenna Blackthorn. Morwenna Blackthorn. Your mind hums. Through the dark fog, you can make out figures—flickers of candle flames casting large, distorted shadows. Morwenna Blackthorn. Bones crunch beneath your feet, yet at the same time, you float. Morwenna Blackthorn. Your hands burn into the table, the rotting sensation tangling through your digits, pulling you deeper. 

Morwenna Blackthorn

You can see a thin line of thread hanging through the void. 

Morwenna Blackthorn.

It is red; a series of knots tugged tightly intermittently. 

Morwenna Blackthorn.

Your fingers grasp the fibres gently, your nail hooking around one of the tiny knots. 

You tug.

Morwenna Blackthorn.

A violent, ragged gasp leaves you. It claws up your throat, ripping at the flesh. Your entire body tenses, your spine straightening as your head snaps back. For a moment, you are suspended. You can feel her with you, her ghostly fingers stroking tenderly across your skin. She smooths over the back of your hands, slowly and gradually winding her way up your arms. She clutches your shoulders, her bones digging into your flesh.

Then, with violence strong enough that you fear she has folded your spine in half, she pushes down. 

Your body instantly relaxes, head lulling downward. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, and despite the appearance being a milky white, you can see perfectly clearly. Morwenna has settled herself deep within your bones, controlling your movements like a puppeteer. You are conscious enough to understand what is happening, but you are not in control of your actions or speech.

Your mouth spread into a wide, sly smile. “Bucky, my love.”

“Mor.” The gangster greets, although he does not seem entirely pleased. You pout, leaning your elbows onto the table. 

“Not happy to see me?” You coo. Somewhere beside you, Steve shifts in his seat uncomfortably. It is the most off put you’ve ever seen the man so far. He winces as your head swings around, a wicked grin gracing your lips. “Oh, Stevie and Sam. Didn’t see you two here.”

“Mor.” The two men grumble in unison, scowling. 

“Awh. Why so glum, boys?” You whine, your chair scraping against the floor as you stand. Your movements are fluid and graceful, entirely not your own. Your hands stroke across the back of the chair, then swooshes up to meet your chest. 

You lean forward, tutting as you inspect your reflection in the glass of a nearby cupboard. “Trust you to find a pretty one in The Warrens.” 

Your hands move to unpin your mantle, a cloud of ash lingering in the air as you drop it to the floor. You sigh in relief, your fingers unbuttoning the top of your shirt, revealing the curve of your breasts. Your hands smooth down your waist to your hips; your full figure is now displayed. 

“You missed me that much, my love? That you had to find a pretty vessel for me so you could get your cock wet, hm?” You hum, sashying towards the table once more. 

“That’s not why you’re here.” Bucky replies. He seems frozen in place. The horror of familiarity. Recognising the mannerisms of someone he once knew in a complete stranger. 

You ignore his words, unpinning your hair. Thick locks unroll, cascading down your shoulders and back. You let out an exaggerated, satisfied sigh, rolling your neck. The strands frame your face, and the rich colour brings colour to your cheeks. 

“Morwenna.” Bucky snaps. Your brows furrow as you look over to him, pouting once more. “You put a curse. On the necklace.”

Your mind momentarily blanks, as if Morwenna were trying to recall what he said. Spirits often grew confused trying to recall memories, especially ones that brought them anguish. A cog seems to turn as you flash the gangster another beaming smile. 

“The necklace… oh. Did you like it? My parting gift to you? Before you fucked me over you piece of—” Your voice, once sweet and soft, deepens to a guttural growl. Your body shakes, and words cut off as you cough and hack. Your hand raises to your mouth, warm fluid leaking from your lips. You let in a shuddering breath, rubbing your fingers and palms down your chin. Blood smears across your skin. 

“You shot me, my love.” You gasp, your brows furrowing as your head tilts. “You shot me.”

“You betrayed us, remember? You were a rat—” Steve jumps in, but is quickly cut off. 

“Steve.” Bucky warns.

Your hands find your stomach, doubling over as you sob. There is no wound, no blood. Still, your hands dig at the fabric while ragged, pathetic cries leave your blood stained lips. 

“How do I break the curse?”

You shuddering sobs stop, a dreadful silence falling over the tiny kitchen. A guttural laugh erupts from you, saliva mixed with blood dripping from your lips to the floor. “The curse. The curse? I should have known… I should have known…”

Your body jerks upward, movements stiff, and jerks like a marionette doll. Sam’s face contorts into one of fear, while Steve looks horrified. You jerk forward, nearly tripping over the chair as you plunge towards the table. Your stomach smacks hard against the wood, a winded wheeze escaping your lungs as you drag yourself forward by your nails. 

“Don’t you love me? Don’t you want me?” You cry, your head beginning to twist, the angle so unnatural that it strains your neck. 

“How do I break it?” Bucky repeats, voice firm. He hasn’t so much as flinched, a wall of steel as you crawl towards him. 

“It was born in chaos, so it must be undone in chaos. I will find you. I will tear you limb from limb. I will make you rot from the inside out; maggots will grow within you; and mould will bloom in your soul. Everything will crumble to dust beneath your touch. I will ruin you until you b–b—be—”

Your body slides back, and for the first time in the entire session, you grab the reins. You search blindly for the knotted thread, tugging hard. Your body steps back from the table, muscles spasming and tense as your body locks in place. 

You tug harder, and darkness swims across your vision. Candles flicker and dance in the distance, the sun rising and falling as your body twists up and down. The smell of rot slowly subsides, threads slipping from your fingers. The scent of copper and ash is on your tongue, and your head is pounding. 

A dramatic sigh leaves you as your body slumps. You find yourself standing before the table, three sets of eyes burning into you as your own eyes roll back into place. Sam and Steve look equally disturbed as they are horrified, the blond’s mouth agape in shock. 

“The fuck was that?” Sam barks.

“I ain’t never seen a spirit session like that before, Buck—” Steve begins.

“Shut it.” Bucky barks, rising to his feet. 

There is a sickly feeling in your chest, a radiating pain across your ribcage. You barely register the gangster walking up to you, gripping your chin between his index and thumb. 

“You pulled yourself out early.” Bucky sneers. “Why?”

“Buck—” Steve calls again. With a growl, Bucky releases you, twisting around to snarl at Steve. 

“I thought you told me she was the best in the Warrens?”

“She is. Did’ya not see that shit?”

“She didn’t get me an answer—”

“Chaos magic.” You finally speak up, your voice raspy. The gangsters pause, slowly turning to face you. “She told you. It’s chaos magic. What’s born in chaos must be undone in chaos.”

Your hand raises to your face, your fingertips touching your upperlip as warm blood flows from your nose. You raise your hand into the light, inspecting the crimson liquid. Your eyes cut over to Bucky's, and he frowns. 

“Chaos magic?” He questions. 

“Sex magic.” You state, fighting the heat growing across your cheeks. Without much of a care or a flinch, you navigate your way past the group. Your shirt brushes against Bucky’s jacket, the rotting feeling momentarily settling in your stomach as the fabric brushes his breastpocket. You pause in front of your sink, knuckles white as you grip the lip. Blood continues to stream steadily from your nose, dripping into the basin. 

“You focus your thoughts on one thing; you get pulled into a trance. Take the energy, the chaos, and you focus it. At the peak, picture what you’re manifestin’. The chaos that you’ve built through the act is released at the moment of orgasm.” You explain, your gaze solidly locked onto the blood that swirls down your drain. 

“Sex magic.” Bucky hums in thought.

Steve spoke up from beside him with a snicker. “How poetic.”

—

You hated how your hands shook. If Bucky had noticed, he hadn’t brought it up. He was coolly inspecting your tiny bedroom, hands tucked into his pockets. The room had an eclectic taste, with walls covered in shelving. You collected books, objects, trinkets, or other things that helped your work. Drying herbs hung from your curtain railings, your desk cluttered with papers you had hastily scribbled notes upon. 

You ground your palm harder into the pestle, gritting your teeth as you worked the herbs inside into a fine paste. Your bed, stripped bare, had been pushed to the side of the room. It usually sat near the centre, atop a fraying rug. The rug had also been removed, rolled up, and placed somewhere in your stairway. The old wood beneath had been painted by your hand, with intricate runes, symbols, and swirls making up the general shape of a circle. You had already lined it with black salt, candles burning at each cardinal direction. At the centre of the circle, you had laid your bedding and pillows for comfort. 

Bucky had sent Steve and Sam away, the two men snickering like a pair of school boys. You all knew what was about to unfold; it was just a question of why you had allowed yourself to become tangled up in such a situation. You had done similar rituals for clients before, yes, but none of those clients had been the boss of the Smog Boys. None of them had been Bucky Barnes. 

You eyed him as he paused in front of the carved circle, mindlessly playing with the jewelled necklace that hung from his grip. The awful, dreadful, rotting sensation was dulled; you’d nearly begged the gangster to let you cleanse the object. It was a temporary relief that would wear down in a few hours, but at least you could complete your work without gagging at the feeling of it. You hurriedly poured the thick paste from the herbs into a pot, which boiled in your fireplace. It only took a couple of stirs for the potion to settle. You could feel Bucky’s eyes assessing your every movement as you poured the steaming liquid into two cups, briefly swirling each to ensure the consistency was correct. 

“Remind me what this is.” The gangster asked, closing the distance between you. His nose wrinkled in distaste at the scent. 

“A potion to help with the ritual. Some find it…hard to perform.” You say, wincing as you realise what you implied. Bucky raises a brow as you fumble over your words. “It heightens arousal and pleasure.”

“I won’t find it hard to perform.” He replies curtly. 

“I know. I wasn’t saying that—I just… from experience…” You stumble again. If only you could punch yourself in the face for this idiocy. 

“Relax, doll.” He hums, his hand finding your shoulder. You exhale sharply, lips pressed together, as your shoulders drop in response. “I can find someone else if you don’t want this.”

As much as you hated yourself for admitting it, you did want this. Maybe it was a sick curiosity, wondering if this dangerous yet handsome man could perform as well as you imagined, as well as it was rumoured. You swallow, your mouth feeling dry. “No. I want this.”

“Good.” His hand brushes a loose strand of hair from your face, and his head dips to look at you better. “Honestly, I could fuck you with or without the potion, doll.”

There is a knowing smirk spreading across his face as your mind blanks. Fucking rake. You consider if the fumes from the potion have already leaked their effects onto you both. You can feel a warmth growing between your legs. 

“It’s my job.” You mutter, stepping away. Although you’re unsure if the reassurance is for yourself or for him. His chuckle follows you as you sweep across the room, returning to your small desk. “Do you want me to explain the ritual in detail or just give you the gist of it?”

“Spare the details; just run me through what I need to do.” He responds. He has closed the distance between the both of you again, peering over your shoulder as you fumble through your things. 

“Well, it’s pretty simple.” You sigh, turning around. Your chests are nearly pressed together as you spin. You back up as far as possible, your hands moving behind your back as you grip the edge of the desk to steady yourself. "We’ll have to draw some blood with a blade and put it on the necklace to link it to our energies. It’s sigil magic, nothing you’ll have to worry about. We take the potions…”

You fade off with a shrug. Bucky smirks once more, his chin lifting in amusement, but his gaze remains solidly locked onto you. His hands go to his pockets, and his wide chest blocks your movements. You clear your throat. “The ending is more what you’ll need to focus on. When you reach… climax… you must focus all your energy on the necklace and nothing else. I will be there to guide and remind you, but you can’t let your thoughts stray.”

“What about you? What will you have to think of?” He questions, his voice low. His adams apple bobs as he swallows slowly, his tongue running across his bottom lip in thought. Intriguing question. No one had asked you that before. 

“Doesn’t matter. You’re the only one who needs to orgasm.”

“Why?”

“The curse is linked to you. Only you can break it, with my assistance, of course. I am just here to help guide you and lend you my energy. I am just a conduit for the magic, to focus it.” You explain. Thinking it was best to get it over and done with, you finally pluck up the courage to push past him. 

Your athame was already in place; the candles were lit, salt laid, and sigil memorised. There was only one thing left to do—the act. You crouch down by the fireplace, retrieving the two cups. Bucky gives you an incredulous look. 

“It tastes better than it smells.” You reassure him, handing him the saucer. He inspects the liquid once more, wincing, then shrugging in surprise as he finally downs the lot. You watch with a scrutinising gaze as he places the cup down, rolling his shoulders. 

The potion would take all of five seconds to take affect. It didn’t alter the brain or take away authority; rather, it heightened already present feelings of arousal or pleasure. The user would experience a rather euphoric sensation. Dodgy brothels often microdosed their clients with such herbs to heighten the experience. Also to hook in a new, loyal customer. Used sparingly, the herbs were fine, but they were highly addictive. 

And illegal. Most of your work fell into that category.

Within moments, you could see Bucky’s pupils dilate, his jaw and shoulders relaxing, and his nostrils flaring as he exhaled slowly. His voice was strained as he spoke up, his tone gravelly and low as he cleared his throat in surprise. “Fuck. That does feel good, doesn’t it?”

You smile shyly into your own cup and swallow down the liquid. You were familiar with the taste and it’s effects. It was surprisingly sweet, with a vanilla, nutty aftertaste. As soon as it hit your stomach, you could already feel the warmth growing in your core—a delightful tingling sensation spreading up your spine and skull. 

You were quick to place your cup down and cross the room to retrieve the athame. You had to pin point your actions very directly so as not to get distracted by the hulking man looming in your room. The potion was definitely potent, because any fear or anxiety had left you. Your body begged for him to come closer, to touch you, to kiss you. Not yet. Soon. 

“Come here.” You murmur, drawing the blade from it’s sheath. Bucky obeys, wordlessly stalking towards you and presenting you with his palm. You look up at him through your lashes, gently taking his hand into yours. Your skin sings at the content, a rush of goosebumps raising across your skin. “We don’t need much blood.”

The gangster is still as you drag the blade in a short cut along the heel of his palm. You push into the mound, coaxing out droplets of blood to blister to the surface. “The necklace.”

He lets out a low, agreeable grunt as he hands it to you. The potion has helped you ignore any bad energy attached to the object. Your skin simmers as you brush your finger tips along the cut, gathering Bucky’s blood. You take the jewel, smearing the blood across the slippery surface into one half of a symbol. Bucky watches expectantly as you hastily repeat the process with your own hand, smearing your blood to complete the symbol. 

“You need to wear it.” You hum and guide the chain over his head. You know you should find a bandage or some kind of healing salve for your hands, but your attention is pulled away as Bucky grasps your hand. An involuntary whimper leaves your throat as he raises your palm to his lips, his tongue peaking out as he runs it across the open wound. The potion had definitely taken effect. Holy fuck, your back arches as pleasure shoots down your arm, blooming at the base of your skull. 

His lips kiss along the cut, sucking and licking. Your mind swims from the sensation—ideas of where else he could be putting his mouth to use. You pull your palm away, dragging it across his cheek as you cup his face. A crimson streak is smeared along his skin, and his lips are glossy from saliva and stained with your blood. The two of you clash in desperation, a rumbling groan being pulled from the gangster as his lips engulf yours. 

You can taste copper on his tongue, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you flush against his body. The two of you move in a frantic rhythm, scarcely making room to breathe. You guide him clumsily to the painted circle, the two of you falling to your knees in unison. Blindly, you find his clothing, helping him tug off the jacket and then unbutton his vest. 

His hands slip under your blouse, caressing the skin beneath. His fingers roam to your brassiere, your nipples hardening as he brushes them through the sleek fabric. You mewl into his mouth, squirming under his touch as the pulse between your legs quickens. His large palm comes to rest below your breasts, his thumb sitting on your sternum as he yanks you backwards onto his lap. 

Your lips break, and you gasp for air as the gangster continues his assault down your neck to the exposed skin of your collarbone. His stubble tickles across your neck, and he gathers your skirts, fingers gliding past your stockings to your exposed inner thigh. 

Your head tips backwards to rest on his shoulder, and loud, satisfied sighs leave you. The sensation is near blinding, your body alight with pleasure. Had you accidentally made a stronger dose in your nervousness? You had never yearned in such a way before—

“What’re you doing?” You query with a gasp as his fingers slip beneath your loose tap pants. 

Your question is answered as he strokes a fingertip through your wet folds. 

“You’re so wet.” He hums against your skin, voice strained. You can already feel his erection pressing into you. His grip on you remains firm, your back flush against his chest as he dips two of his fingers into you. Ecstasy fizzles across your skin, nails digging into his skin where you grip his arm. 

“What’re you— I’m supposed to make you—ah!” You whine, your breath coming fast as you lean harder into him. Your hips rock greedily, pushing your pelvis in time with his pumping fingers so the heel of his palm grinds against your clit. 

“Shh, doll. Relax.” He whispers, his tongue licking up the shell of your ear. Your eyes squeeze shut, and your body is locked in place by his grip. His pace increases, and the panting in your ear grows as his two digits glide in and out of your tight cunt. 

“Do you like that?” He groans in your ear. Your grinding hips are now giving friction to his cock, which twitches against your backside through his pants. You whimper in response, a short sob bubbling from your mouth as you clench around him. 

Your head lifts, eyes widening as you look down. You can’t see much due to your skirts, but you can feel the knot tightening within your belly. Your hips move more desperately, needy, pathetic moans escaping you as his pace remains steady. 

“Please—” You beg, squirming as the gangster chuckles. 

“You do like this, huh? Even if you acted like a little innocent virgin earlier.” He growls. The vibration is enough to set you over the edge, a loud cry leaving you as you clench hard around his fingers, body spasming. Bucky continues to steadily pump you through your orgasm. “Good girl.”

A continued arousal stirs in your belly at his praise. Your body slumps against him, panting and exhausted. 

“Such a good girl.” He hums again, his digits slipping out of you. You can feel the sloppy mess between your thighs, and as Bucky pulls his hand into the light, you can see the wet drenching his fingers. “I think I like this version of you. The one who makes pretty little noises while I fuck her brains out, hm?”

You’re left speechless as the gangster lifts his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean with a devilish smirk. 

“Well, time to get this ritual over with then, don’t you think?” He says. You’re too exhausted and drunk on desire to bother replying. You allow him to guide you down, so your head is placed side-ways on one of the pillows. He guides your hips up, your legs slightly spread, and pushes your skirts to your hips. 

“You’ll have to tell me when you’re close, so I can guide you.” You finally muster up the strength to say. The gangster pulls your tap pants down, exposing your cunt fully. 

“Sure thing, doll.” He says in response. You hear the sound of fabric rustling as he pulls out his cock. 

Without much warning, he pushes into you, your arousal making it easy for his member to slide in and out of you. A growl burns in the back of his throat while you wordlessly make a fist around the sheets and blankets beneath you. 

“Fuck. You’re so tight.” Bucky groans, his voice strained. “And to think you’ve been hidin’ out in The Warrens all this time.”

He sinks deeper into you, pulling small whimpers and moans from you as he finds a steady, pleasurable rhythm. His hand slides up your clothed back, pushing you harder into the pillow with a grunt. His other hand finds your hips, his grip bruising as he guides you. 

You bite down into the pillow, your pleasured sobs muffled by the feathers. 

“You squeezed so tightly around my fingers; I can’t wait to see how you’ll feel when you come around my cock.” Bucky grunted as he ploughed into you. His hand fists around your loose hair, fingers tangling through the locks as he tugs. Tears are beginning to prickle in your eyes, and your legs are wobbling from the sensation. 

“Please—” you gasp out. 

“Please, what?” The gangster asks, tugging harder. The hand on your hip is squeezing tighter as he holds you in place. 

“Please—I need to—”

“No.” He growls, tugging you upward. You fall backwards into his lap once more, his cock still inside you but somehow deeper from the angle he holds you. “You need to finish the ritual, remember? I can’t have you guide me if you’re too fucked out to talk.”

Another sob leaves you, but you wordlessly nod. You hold onto the burning sensation in your gut, the waves of satisfaction so immense that your limbs tremble. Bucky continues to fuck up into you, his cock steadily driving into you as his free hand comes to lazily swirl your swollen clit. 

You try to remember words, instructions, anything. You feel too high to even breathe. All you can do is focus on the sensation of the necklace rubbing against your back and the friction burning against your skin. 

“Focus on the necklace. How it feels around your neck.” You squeak out, your eyes squeezed shut, as you try to ground yourself. “Focus on the feeling of the chain, the weight of the jewel. Think of your blood, how a piece of you is painted onto it.”

There is a moment of silence between the two of you, only the slapping of skin and the rasping of breath. 

“Are you focused on it?” You ask.

“Yes.” The gangster cuts back. His strokes were beginning to grow sloppy. 

“Focus.” You whisper, though a breathy moan leaves you. “Feel your energy flow; feel your blood seep into the stone. Picture how it will shatter beneath your power.”

His hips jerk beneath you, his finger on your clit swirling faster. Your breath comes in sharp stutters, your back arching as you find no way to escape the rising sensation. His back is rock solid behind you, his hands keeping you in place as you begin to spiral. Your pussy tightens around him as you begin to scream—

“Please, Bucky. Please!”

Something snaps between the both of you, his hips jerking wildly as he spills into you. He moans into your ear at a deafening level, his fingers digging into your thighs. You double over in pleasure, your vision briefly going black as you cry out. Sparks dance across your skin, your body momentarily alight as the power of magic flows through you. You can feel the rush as your energy meets Bucky’s entangling with one another in a fierce battle. For a second, you feel intoxicated, colours bursting across your sight as the rush of magic rests in your chest, and then, just as quickly as it arrived, it cascades out of you.

Behind you, the sound of shattering can be heard above the moans.  

Panting, Bucky releases you. You slump to the floor, off his lap. His cum drips from your pussy, thighs wet as sticky as you close your eyes, desperately trying to catch your breath. You roll onto your back, pressing your thighs together. Through heavy-lidded eyes, you look down at Bucky. He sits kneeling, dishevelled. His hair is ruffled, blood is still smeared along his cheek, and his shirt is untucked and creased. 

At some point, he has tucked his cock away, suspenders hanging loosely by his hips. His gaze is not on you; rather, it is solely focused on the necklace in his palm. You go to lift your head, but you find yourself too weak and exhausted to bother. A mixture of being too fucked out to care and the lack of energy from acting as a conduit for the ritual. 

“Did it work?” You ask the gangster, and his eyes finally pull up to look at you. His gaze wanders over your face, examining your swollen lips, the blush across your cheeks, and the areas where exposed skin remains. He cracks a grin, lifting his hand. The necklace dangles from his fingers, the large, blue jewel now gifted with a large crack down the centre. 

You let out a sigh of relief, letting your head fall back as you stared up at the ceiling. Your eyes flicker closed, a sleepy warmth prickling across your scalp. 

“Doll?”

Your eyes snap open with a jolt. 

“It’s all done? The curse is gone?” The gangster questions. You weakly nod in reply.

“Her spirit and whatever curse she held have been released.” You affirm, voice sleepy, relaxing back into the pillows and blankets. “Apologies. This type of spell drains me.”

Bucky chuckles. You were just glad you had enough sense near the end to actually guide him. The gangster appeared to be attempting to prove something with the orgasms he extracted from you. In the state you were in, you had little reason to complain. 

When you opened your eyes again, he was across the room, vest on and jacket slung over his arm.

“I’ll leave your payment downstairs.” He says, only pausing to look down at you, still curled up on the floor. You blink up at him sleepily. “Thanks for your help, spirit-raiser.”

You can’t find the energy to correct him.

PONY CLUB (PART 2)

[bl00dlight]

A Song of Shadow & Flame

CANON Dark! Aemond Targaryen x OC niece Targaryen. | SERIES

All NSFW warnings apply in future chapters.

Word Count ~ 3.5k+

Index

i ● ii ● iii ● iv ● v ● vi ● vii ● viii ●ix ● x ● xi ● xii ● xiii ● xiv ● xv

vii ~ 'Lord of the Tides'

129 AC

VISENYA - DRAGONSTONE

The sky above was grey, as it always was upon Dragonstone. The air thick and cloying, the inescapable stench of salt, smoke and brimstone filled the lungs of all who dared cross upon its stormy threshold. It was always warm here, clammy - even when it rained.

I oft found solace, riding high over the plains of ashen volcanic rock. The sulphuric steam stinging my skin as I let my dragon take me high upon Dragonmount. There I let myself venture upon its edges, discarding my boots and feeling the jagged stone beneath my feet. I enjoy feeling how it cuts and presses into my skin, sometimes I leave bloodied and limping. Though it feels good, feels righteous to have my blood dried upon its rocks, ritualistic. Just as I claimed Silverwing, I shall claim this island as my own one day.

I watch as Silverwing scurries into the large cavern etched into the side of the mountain. She oft goes there, for that is why Vermithor can be found lazing. It is a strange sight, seeing two beasts which strike such fear into the hearts of men, so affectionate with each other. I too have found comfort in their embrace, often falling asleep aside the two beasts as a child, usually as they coiled. My father, Daemon would be the one to find me, to scoop me in his arms and return me to Dragonstone.

Vermithor had taken a liking to me, he was an aloof beast - distant. Yet it was my bond with Silverwing which softened his gaze upon me, allowing me to sit by them both under the torch light, reading. Silverwing had always been the most gentle of the elder dragons, tentative to my thoughts and whims. I needn't say many commands, for she already knows my desires. Many found it odd I had claimed her over Vermithor, thinking his temperament was more aligned with my own. In some ways, I wish I had. There was something terribly revealing about claiming such a docile dragon. Something vulnerable, as though it revealed my own heart to others without any need for confession.

This was my home, not King's Landing - city of piss and rotting teeth. Dragonstone was a place of magic; I can feel it simmering in the air and ground. Sense it when I place my palm on the rocks. That low humming of the hearth of Valyria, of the Targaryen's. Many find it to be a grim place, akin with Harrenhal - though mystified with blood magic instead of a curse.

But it is that which drives me to it, my heart doesn't fear it's darkness nor its danger. For I know within it, for those truly of the blood of the dragon - its darkness is merely there so that our fire may burn brightly. A cocoon of warmth. It is not like the emptied and sullen corpse of Harrenhal, no, Dragonstone is full - it is alive. So, it came as no shock to my mother that I had forfeited my claim to the throne, opting to rule Dragonstone instead and allow my brother, Jacaerys to be her heir.

The realm deserves a King of a kind and just nature; that is not me. My temper burns too hot, and I have no desire to be pulled as a puppet on a string. I have no taste for politics, nor can bear the burden of pleasing the faith. In that regard, I am much like my father, and he was not meant for the throne either.

Daemon, of course was outraged by this notion and doubled down, claiming my willingness to give up the throne proved I was fair enough to sit upon it. But I know that is not true, for if it were - my mother would have refused me. At first, of course she protested but came to see that my heart lies here, not in court. And I shall continue our line, where our House belongs and I shall raise my brothers Viserys, Aegon iii and any child I might have here - amidst the ash and warmth.

My mother has been generous in her patience of me, and my father overjoyed with the notion that I have not wed yet. They are letting me decide who is worthy, and I still have made no choice. Marriage is to be political yes, but I cannot bare marrying and laying with a man I feel little for. I wish to have what my mother and father have, but there is an unlikely chance it seems.

The most promising match's hail from House Stark and Blackwood. Though neither of which please me greatly. In truth, I had wished to marry as mother did, to a Targaryen, to have an ancestral wedding too. Though it seems the God's did not write such a thing within my fate. So, in turn, I wait. I wait to see just where this path of what has felt like endless girlhood shall end. I am but eight and ten, still no marriage or children to speak - some have suggested that I shall take after my great Aunt Saera Targaryen. In truth such a life sounds rather pleasing; fucking lovers then taking off to Lys, pretending to be a maiden to exploit patrons of pleasure houses. Only difference being I would not have to pretend at first.

As I made my way across the stones, I noted the sky dimming slowly, twas time I return home. Even for a Targaryen, nights on Dragonmount can be treacherous. It was no surprise to me that upon my return, more news of dramatics at King's Landing filled my ears. Luke's legitimacy was being called into question as heir to Driftmark by Vaemond Velaryon, on account of Lord Corlys' sudden illness. Of course, we were to be dragged to the capital for his trial. Despite the matter being settled already, it seemed those sniveling Hightower’s were to reconsider claims that had already been declared by King Viserys, though it was no surprise either to hear how my grandsire had deteriorated in years passing. A part of me longed to visit from time to time, though I knew why mother had to leave. Why it was impossible to stay amongst those dens of vipers.

I sat in Lucerys room, my hand entwined with his as he sat upon his bed. The both of us watching as Jace paced back and forth, ranting and muttering.

"Tis an outrage... how can Grandsire let this stand!" Jace paused and turned to us, his face curdled.

"I... do not know." I say softly, contemplating his words.

Jace's face hardens, he scoffs and turns to where Lucerys and I both sit. His finger pointed directly at me," We should not have spent such time away from King's Landing. Mother ought to have trusted us to face them!"

"She has been rather busy brother, rearing us. Tis not her job to entertain the Hightower’s wicked lies and let us spend our lives defending ourselves against them." I can only shake my head at my younger brother's fierce words. For I know he is brave and true, at times Jace can be too stern for his own good.

Jace purses his lips and turns to look upon the view of the bay. I can tell he has no argument against me, so I smile softly and turn my attention to my other brother, who nestles himself upon my shoulder.

"They aren’t lies though... are they?  Even the Velaryon’s think it so. " The silence is broken as Luke's soft voice fills his chamber. His head rising from my shoulder as Jace turns once more.

“Ser Vaemond does not speak for the Sea Snake, brother…” I said, gently brushing his dark hair from his eye.

“But he speaks the opinion many seem to share.” Luke mutters lowly.

 I turn my head to Jace, and both our gazes interlock as we struggle to confirm what our younger brother already knows. The silence continues, and then, Jace steps forward, his tone proud and measured.

"It matters not what they say. The only relevant truth is the fact we are Targaryen's and that Grandsire, and the Sea Snake supports yours and all our claims." Jace beckons, giving Luke a small smile. We both exchange another look before I watch as Jace turns, making his way towards the window once more.

In the corner of my eye, I can see how Luke’s face curdles with discomfort, I turn my head and give him a gentle nod, “You worry too much. All will be well in time.”

“There is much to worry about. I… I do not feel I am right to rule Driftmark, mayhap they are right to challenge me. I know nothing of commanding a fleet.” His dark eyes lower themselves to the ground, Lucerys frowns softly and I can’t help but pull his chin up so that he might look into my eyes once more.

“What do any of us know of our future duties, brother? What does Jace know about protecting the realm, or I about ruling Dragonstone? That is for us to uncover in time. Fuck the treacherous webs our enemies spin, they have their own wants… desires that tempt them. We need not listen, for once we sit upon our thrones their voices shall be too quiet to even hear.” As I let go of his chin, I found the excitement in my tone again. Lucerys face shifts to chuckle quietly and I do the same, he nods giving me a soft glare before rising to his feet to speak with Jace.

I take a moment to gaze upon my two brothers, to see them now growing into men… when it felt like only a moment ago they were mere boys before me. To see how their temperaments became more distinct by the day, gave me a sense of relief for our futures. They were good and brave, it seemed such were rare traits in times such as these. Their dark hair gleamed bronze in the sunlight for a moment, and I was filled with a warmth, a love that I couldn’t quite explain. Though yes, they were my mother’s sons – at times it felt like they were just as much my baby’s as they were hers. How I had held each one upon their birth and ran my fingers across their fat cheeks when they were babes. How, now as they grew into men it was the hard bone of their jaws my fingers would feel beneath them. Such sentiments made my stomach coil with a grief for our youth, for the innocence I felt was being chipped away at by the day. Yet now, seeing them before me, they still appear as the small boys I once held so close, and I knew it would not be very long until I had to let them go.  

●

The trip to King’s Landing was but a short one on dragonback and the Princess Visenya indeed watched her earthly surroundings go from smoky wonders of Dragonstone to the dust filled haze of the capital. She practically felt her stomach reel from the mere thought of the familiar stench, and after leaving Silverwing in the Dragonpits it came as a surprise to all her family that upon their arrival to the Red Keep, none from their own House were there to greet them. Only Lord Caswell appeared before Princess Rhaenyra, approaching her with an understanding gaze. Of course, Alicent and her peculiar spawn would not show the decency of kin, for they weren’t. Not truly. Perhaps by blood, but it seemed that made matters worse given the context of the Blacks return. Still, Visenya thought, it had been six years since last they saw the rest of their family. Six years since the night on Driftmark which led to an even greater rift… six years since he had lost his-

“Sister!” Jacaerys snapped his finger before her face, snickering at the dazed Princess.

Visenya looked up from her entranced gaze, realising she had been staring at the ground below, she looked around to see the bustling of carriages and servants around her. The Princess shifted to her two half-brothers, Jace and Luke standing before her. The glimmer of Rhaenyra and Daemon’s silver hair disappearing into the darkness as they made their way into the keep.

“Mother and Daemon are to have an audience with Alicent, and it seems none of the Hightower’s have made time in their day to greet us. We are on our own.” Jace scoffed, folding his arms as he cocked his head.

Visenya raised her brow, nodding as she began to walk, “Tis a blessing really. I do not wish to ruin such a beautiful day with the look of their sullen faces.” Her head turned as Jace and Luke followed alongside her.

“They did all seem rather grey didn’t they?” Jace jested, chuckling to himself.

The three young Targaryen’s continued forth, making their way up the stairs from the middle bailey and into the halls of the Keep. Visenya spoke once more.

“I’d imagine all the years of conspiring and prayer has meant for little time in the sun. They likely appear as corpses now.” The Princess hollowed her cheeks as she gave a wink to Luke, winning a small giggle from him.

Once they had reached Maegor’s Holdfast, the siblings had branched off, returning to settle in to their childhood chambers. As Visenya reached hers a wave of bitter nostalgia washed over her, she let her fingers glide upon the stone walls observing how it had been kept so similar yet… different to how she had left it. Naturally, she had taken her belongings with her but the furniture and the deep crimson bedding. Yes, it had been left just as it was. Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the freshly lit candles, the small dish of water and soap which sat in a silver tray upon her vanity, a small rag draping over the chair. Visenya smiled, knowing the servants had remembered such preferences of hers. Near her bed, sat the small trunk of the few belongings she’d brought from Dragonstone. Upon the mattress itself, lay the scarlet gown and matching slippers.

She sat upon her bed, taking in the smell of damp and mildew. The air around her was quite cold, though a fire crackled. It was likely her chambers had not been used since her departure, from the smell of it – it seemed to not have been cleaned very often either. She settled in, and soon found herself sitting at her old vanity. Admiring how she had grown, how the last time she gazed into this mirror she was but a girl.

The princess had indeed grown vigorously as the years passed. Much like her parents it seemed she had inherited both the mind and body of a dragonrider. Imposing, her body had become – not only to others but to herself. Her form Junoesque, unyielding in its femininity as her hips and breasts were among the first thing to develop suddenly. It seemed almost overnight she had no longer fit into the clothing she once freely adorned, her body changing, aching even. The first time she had gotten her moonblood felt like a life sentence for Visenya, as no more did she feel the same kind of unawareness of her body. The princess had felt like she was now very much a prisoner to her newly found womanhood, she seldom understood why such changes were needed. Why every moon her belly would swell, growing heavy and coil with pain, how she would have to crawl to her mother’s quarters and lay by her side simply to reassure such things were normal. Though, as the years had gone by, she adjusted to such feeling, relished that the pain she felt at times was proof of her fortitude. That no man could endure such sufferance so frequently.

Visenya marveled at her sun-kissed skin, the way her silver hair gleamed now that it had grown even longer than her mothers. She kept it loose, unbound; for she relished in letting her body grow as it pleased, there was no use in taming herself; her hair included. Indeed, did the Princess enjoy herself – for no matter how beautiful a man thought her to be, it was herself which she wished to appease the most. The Princess was strict regarding her standards, unwavering that she would be dressed in the finest gowns, and smell of the richest scents the realm had to offer. Whether it was silk from Dorne or perfumed oil from Lys – she simply refused to lead a life without such beauty within it. Some may think it shallow or indulgent, but Visenya knew it was merely her lust for life which drove her towards such luxuries. She wished to experience everything, wished for a life of sensuality and passion. There was no grey cloud in her sky that was without a silver lining, for she would not accept much less than satisfaction. After all, there was so much suffering in the realm, so much ugliness and brutality. She owed it to every poor soul who died so terribly, to live life as it ought to be lived. Indulging and embracing pleasure and beauty in every way, for so few had the opportunity to.

Such mentality, did however, lead her at times to indulge in the filtrations of men and despite Visenya’s bravado, she was gentle at heart - oft stringing men along rather than shatter their dreams of winning her favor. Such is exactly what her father had told her worried him before their arrival to King’s Landing. He spoke of how difficult it was stopping his inclinations to assault the few men he might find leering at her at Dragonstone. King’s Landing, however, was a different beast and Prince Daemon had no doubt he would be combatting an endless sea of men who might have more lecherous ideas. He had spoken sternly about keeping to herself, not drawing attention to herself beyond what would already be given. That if any man were to approach her, she would deny him.

The Princess of course, found her father’s worry amusing, the few times she had entertained men had only ever ended up with innocent mischief being made, and at times drunken affections… which were oft less innocent in nature.  But she was no fool as to lose her virtue before marriage, for she knew how such a thing impacted her mother and she had promised herself that her virtue was a pleasure in itself. That there is beauty in saving herself for the truest, purest of loves, as there is beauty in indulging in fleshly pleasure. Visenya was positive no man would attempt to accost her in such a manner, for if they did they would face the wrath of her mother and of course the looming threat of her rumoured father, Prince Daemon.

As she prepared herself to leave, she peeled the thick, black riding leathers from her frame, cringing at the particular scent of sweat and dragon that ruminated from them.  Visenya then doused the rag in the bowl of water, using the soap to scrub at any and all places which eluded to such a scent. Soon, she had changed her undergarments, and drew the scarlet shaded gown over her frame; it’s sleeves long and elaborate, intwining string which laced across her structured shoulders. Visenya then pulled a small vile of perfumed oil, from her trunk, dabbing it upon her skin and threading it through her hair. The contents of which filled the room with the smell of heady jasmine and musk, a recent gift from a nobleman in Lys.

As she left her chamber, she was accosted by Jace and Luke. Who swiftly grabbed her wrist pulling her along the corridors as they babbled about going back to the middle bailey to re visit where they trained as children.

 Once they reached those fateful steps, they let go and waved for her to join them in a busy yard below..

“Come. You can watch.” Jace beckoned, Luke stopping upon the steps to look up towards her.

Visenya shook her head, leaning against stone banister upon the mezzanine which overlooked the commotion below. The Princess cocked her head to the side, “I’ve just changed… I have little intention of getting myself filthy once more.”

“Of course…” Jacaerys shook his head, rolling his eyes as he let out an amused scoff, “Suit yourself then.”

With that, the two boys trotted down the steps, and Visenya looked upon the bustling yard below.  She watched with a hearty smile as her brothers made their way towards the wooden weaponry stand, Jace playfully swinging one of the swords at Lucerys. However, she noted the few people who glared at her brothers and the whispering that occurred in their presence. A slight anger rose in her belly, do these fat old Lord’s and Lady’s have little else to do but gossip?

She waited until a pair had noticed Visenya’s scowling from above, and smiled smugly when swiftly they turned their heads and went about their business. A small gathering had distracted the Princess, as it seemed there to be an on going sparring session in the far corner of the yard. The whipping of long silver hair catching her attention, and she noticed how her brothers had soon caught wind of the action, joining the crowd below.

The silver haired figure was lithe with lean thew and a tall frame all tightly contained in black leathers. He swiftly jostled the sword in his hand with a fine precision, but her eyes caught a familiar sight, that it was Ser Criston whom the figure dueled against. A cunt, though he may be, but a talented fighter indeed.

Criston swung his Morningstar, shattering the figure’s shield. He’s done for. Visenya thought. However, she raised her brow in intrigue as the figure discarded his shield with fierce aggression and then began striking. Perhaps not. She thought again, impressed by his fortitude. One after the other, a flash of steel and light locks before he ducked and turned – it was then when she felt her heart practically fall into her chest. The figures face sharp and aquiline, his skin pale… too pale. That familiar grey.

It was the black eye patch which was tightly fastened over his right eye which gave it away.

Aemond.

He continued on, fighting harshly and fiercely against Cole before finally, winning the duel. Visenya looked at her brothers below, hearing Aemond’s voice mutter something to them both as he had finally acknowledged the two young Princes’. Though something had told her, Aemond was well aware of their presence. Jace looked up at Visenya pleadingly, and it came as no surprise then when she looked back, she noticed Aemond’s gaze follow her brothers upwards.

For what could have only had been a second, they clocked each other. The Princess felt her eyes widen, shock, fear, anger, intrguie, digust; any and all emotion flooding through her in those fateful seconds. He noticed her, he took her in. He knew it was her. She tussled her hair back and looked away, pretending as though she hadn't recognized him.

Aemond narrowed his eye upon the Princess, scanning her briefly. He had only gazed upon her for a second, he tilted his head as if he was contemplating something before his attention was drawn to the incoming drawing of the heavy gates.

Visenya steadied her breath and watched as the gates opened with a heavy moan. If only to make matters worse, the arriving party was another headache in itself... Vaemond Velaryon.

○viii○

[yuri-is-online]

I could have sworn I had a proper ask for this, but Tumblr seems to have eaten it. Anyway I'll do my best to give which ones I have and explain my reasoning. I will continue referring to Yutu as Yutu in my writing so if you don't like these names there is no need to stick to them.

notes: this is part of my fyuuture kid au, information about which can be found on my masterlist under the series section.

Heartslabyul

Riddle! Yutu's real name is March. This is a reference both to the march hare in Alice in Wonderland and the phrase "in like a lion out like a lamb" as it reminds me of Riddle's temper.

Trey! Yutu is a triplet, and I wanted to give them baking themed names? Yutu's real name is Bran, Yutres's is Clementine, and Yushi's is Hazel. I like to think Clementine goes by Clem and has that stereotypical hatred of her full name because it means she's in trouble.

Cater! Yutu... was really hard to come up with a good name for. I kind of like Rain though? It's *unique* but it's very pretty and I could see Cater wanting a name that was a bit more hippy and alt than normal.

Ace! Yutu had Elias submitted as his real name by a requestor and I don't hate it? It's a pretty normal name and does sound like something he'd come up with thinking it would remind Yuu of their world. The other name I would offer is Jack, because well. Jack of Hearts, but that might end up being Ace's brother's name and I cannot see him naming his son after his brother or that other Jack we know...

Similarly Deuce! Yutu had the name Johan submitted in the same ask and it actually has a very similar meaning to Elias (god is gracious v lord is my god) and again. I could see Deuce wanting to honor a name from Yuu's world with their first kid. The other name I would offer is Damien, as his name is Deuce and his mother is named Dilla, so the D names seem to be a theme.

Savanaclaw

Leona! Yutu... I wrote down the name Kutaka for him. Scar has two possible real names listed on his wiki page and I became attached to the headcannon this reddit user put forward I found while researching them. The name Kutaka comes from the phrase "to want" and if he was born than Leona wanted him. Simple as that.

Forgive me but I wrote down Akiba for Ruggie! Yutu's real name. Supposedly it means "savings" in Swahili and as... unromantic and practical of a meaning that might be I could see Ruggie naming his kid that in the hopes of promoting fiscal responsibility in his future.

Jack! Yutu's real name is Ashe. It's a type of tree, and a type of grey. Jack's name is believed to be taken from the author of "Call of the Wild" but I didn't find any names there or in related works I liked. So woodsy name it was.

Octavinelle

Azul! Yutu's real name is Archimedes. I took it from a minor character in the Little Mermaid tv show who is Ariel's friend who is also obsessed with the human world, but I like the idea of him having the same name as an important historical figure in our world. Also Yuu could call him Archie and he could hate it.

Jade! Yutu's real name is Merrin. Fannon has Jade call Yuu his pearl a lot, and Merrin can mean pearl of the sea. I like the imagery of Jade naming his child after his precious partner.

Floyd! Yutu's real name is Jasper. It's an orange red stone, and shrimps are also orange red. The octotrio all have names related to color in some way, but Jade and Floyd can also be referencing gemstones so I like the idea that they'd reach for similar names for their own kids.

Scarabia

Kalim! Yutu's real name is Mazin. The name means "rain clouds" but those are a blessing in the desert. Not to mention that rain is what Oasis Maker does!

Jamil! Yutu's real name is Sohail. The name seems to mean "star" or "trouble free." Najma also can mean "star" and Jamil wants for a life that is trouble free. It feels like a name he'd like.

Pomefiore

Vil! Yutu's real name is Laurie for no other reason that his unique magic deals with painting and I like Little Women. Also it feels like a fun name and I can see Vil cooing over it.

Rook! Yutu's real name is Oliver. If he were to have a sibling their name would be Roland. This is not foreshadowing for his post.

Epel! Yutu's real name is Jyri. It means farming man and I wanted a cute sounding name.

Ignihyde

I had a real hard time deciding Yutu Shroud's name. I sort of like Orpheus if we're being honest here... sure that's the name of a tragic hero and not how Idia would want his relationship to go, but it's a pretty name.

Diasomnia

The Draconia's have a clear naming pattern so Malleus! Yutu's real name is Malleyu because of course Malleus wishes to name his son after his beloved spouse. In the bad timeline, as part of forgetting who Mal is, Yuu gives Yutu a different name. I had written down Cadmus, the name means "from the east" and references a man who turns into a snake.

Lilia does not have a clear idea where his name comes from and he named his first kid Silver; I think he'd defer to Yuu for names. What is the point of having a kid with a vampire fae general if you can't name him Alucard?

Silver! Yutu's real name is Lance 1) because it is a type of weapon so Silver will approve 2) as a shortened form of Lancelot, who was a knight raised by fairies.

Sebek! Yutu's name is malleus I sort of like the idea of Yuu insisting he be named Thor. It fits in just well enough with the Zigvolt naming structure (both Sebek and Baur seem to be named after gods) and Yuu gets to use something from their world.

Extra

I think we said this already but Rollo! Yutu's real name is Jehan, after his brother. Jehan is the name of Frollo's brother in the book version of Hunchback.

[book--brackets]

Simon Snow by Rainbow Rowell (2015-2021)

Simon Snow is the worst chosen one who’s ever been chosen.

That’s what his roommate, Baz, says. And Baz might be evil and a vampire and a complete git, but he’s probably right.

Half the time, Simon can’t even make his wand work, and the other half, he sets something on fire. His mentor’s avoiding him, his girlfriend broke up with him, and there’s a magic-eating monster running around wearing Simon’s face. Baz would be having a field day with all this, if he were here—it’s their last year at the Watford School of Magicks, and Simon’s infuriating nemesis didn’t even bother to show up.

Carry On is a ghost story, a love story, a mystery and a melodrama. It has just as much kissing and talking as you’d expect from a Rainbow Rowell story—but far, far more monsters.

Gentleman Bastard by Scott Lynch (2006-present)

An orphan's life is harsh — and often short — in the island city of Camorr, built on the ruins of a mysterious alien race. But born with a quick wit and a gift for thieving, Locke Lamora has dodged both death and slavery, only to fall into the hands of an eyeless priest known as Chains — a man who is neither blind nor a priest.

A con artist of extraordinary talent, Chains passes his skills on to his carefully selected "family" of orphans — a group known as the Gentlemen Bastards. Under his tutelage, Locke grows to lead the Bastards, delightedly pulling off one outrageous confidence game after another. Soon he is infamous as the Thorn of Camorr, and no wealthy noble is safe from his sting.

Passing themselves off as petty thieves, the brilliant Locke and his tightly knit band of light-fingered brothers have fooled even the criminal underworld's most feared ruler, Capa Barsavi. But there is someone in the shadows more powerful — and more ambitious — than Locke has yet imagined.

Known as the Gray King, he is slowly killing Capa Barsavi's most trusted men — and using Locke as a pawn in his plot to take control of Camorr's underworld. With a bloody coup under way threatening to destroy everyone and everything that holds meaning in his mercenary life, Locke vows to beat the Gray King at his own brutal game — or die trying...

Piranesi by Susanna Clarke (2020)

Piranesi's house is no ordinary building: its rooms are infinite, its corridors endless, its walls are lined with thousands upon thousands of statues, each one different from all the others. Within the labyrinth of halls an ocean is imprisoned; waves thunder up staircases, rooms are flooded in an instant. But Piranesi is not afraid; he understands the tides as he understands the pattern of the labyrinth itself. He lives to explore the house. 

There is one other person in the house--a man called The Other, who visits Piranesi twice a week and asks for help with research into A Great and Secret Knowledge. But as Piranesi explores, evidence emerges of another person, and a terrible truth begins to unravel, revealing a world beyond the one Piranesi has always known.

The Broken Earth Trilogy by N. K. Jemisin (2015-2017)

This is the way the world ends. . .for the last time.

It starts with the great red rift across the heart of the world's sole continent, spewing ash that blots out the sun. It starts with death, with a murdered son and a missing daughter. It starts with betrayal, and long dormant wounds rising up to fester. 

This is the Stillness, a land long familiar with catastrophe, where the power of the earth is wielded as a weapon. And where there is no mercy.

A Monster Calls by Patrick Ness (2011)

Conor has the same dream every night, ever since his mother first fell ill, ever since she started the treatments that don't quite seem to be working. But tonight is different. Tonight, when he wakes, there's a visitor at his window. It's ancient, elemental, a force of nature. And it wants the most dangerous thing of all from Conor. It wants the truth.

Patrick Ness takes the final idea of the late, award-winning writer Siobhan Dowd and weaves an extraordinary and heartbreaking tale of mischief, healing and above all, the courage it takes to survive.

The Sandman by Neil Gaiman (1990-2003)

In PRELUDES & NOCTURNES, an occultist attempting to capture Death to bargain for eternal life traps her younger brother Dream instead. After his 70 year imprisonment and eventual escape, Dream, also known as Morpheus, goes on a quest for his lost objects of power. On his arduous journey Morpheus encounters Lucifer, John Constantine, and an all-powerful madman.

The Poppy War by R. F. Kuang (2018-2020)

When Rin aced the Keju—the Empire-wide test to find the most talented youth to learn at the Academies—it was a shock to everyone: to the test officials, who couldn’t believe a war orphan from Rooster Province could pass without cheating; to Rin’s guardians, who believed they’d finally be able to marry her off and further their criminal enterprise; and to Rin herself, who realized she was finally free of the servitude and despair that had made up her daily existence. That she got into Sinegard—the most elite military school in Nikan—was even more surprising.

But surprises aren’t always good.

Because being a dark-skinned peasant girl from the south is not an easy thing at Sinegard. Targeted from the outset by rival classmates for her color, poverty, and gender, Rin discovers she possesses a lethal, unearthly power—an aptitude for the nearly-mythical art of shamanism. Exploring the depths of her gift with the help of a seemingly insane teacher and psychoactive substances, Rin learns that gods long thought dead are very much alive—and that mastering control over those powers could mean more than just surviving school.

For while the Nikara Empire is at peace, the Federation of Mugen still lurks across a narrow sea. The militarily advanced Federation occupied Nikan for decades after the First Poppy War, and only barely lost the continent in the Second. And while most of the people are complacent to go about their lives, a few are aware that a Third Poppy War is just a spark away . . .

Rin’s shamanic powers may be the only way to save her people. But as she finds out more about the god that has chosen her, the vengeful Phoenix, she fears that winning the war may cost her humanity . . . and that it may already be too late.

Villains by V. E. Schwab (2013-present)

Victor and Eli started out as college roommates—brilliant, arrogant, lonely boys who recognized the same sharpness and ambition in each other. In their senior year, a shared research interest in adrenaline, near-death experiences, and seemingly supernatural events reveals an intriguing possibility: that under the right conditions, someone could develop extraordinary abilities. But when their thesis moves from the academic to the experimental, things go horribly wrong.

Ten years later, Victor breaks out of prison, determined to catch up to his old friend (now foe), aided by a young girl whose reserved nature obscures a stunning ability. Meanwhile, Eli is on a mission to eradicate every other super-powered person that he can find—aside from his sidekick, an enigmatic woman with an unbreakable will. Armed with terrible power on both sides, driven by the memory of betrayal and loss, the archnemeses have set a course for revenge—but who will be left alive at the end?

Uprooted by Naomi Novik (2015)

Agnieszka loves her valley home, her quiet village, the forests and the bright shining river. But the corrupted Wood stands on the border, full of malevolent power, and its shadow lies over her life.

Her people rely on the cold, driven wizard known only as the Dragon to keep its powers at bay. But he demands a terrible price for his help: one young woman handed over to serve him for ten years, a fate almost as terrible as falling to the Wood.

The next choosing is fast approaching, and Agnieszka is afraid. She knows—everyone knows—that the Dragon will take Kasia: beautiful, graceful, brave Kasia, all the things Agnieszka isn’t, and her dearest friend in the world. And there is no way to save her.

But Agnieszka fears the wrong things. For when the Dragon comes, it is not Kasia he will choose.

Legacy of Orisha by Tomi Adeyemi (2018-2024)

They killed my mother. They took our magic. They tried to bury us. Now we rise. Zélie Adebola remembers when the soil of Orïsha hummed with magic. Burners ignited flames, Tiders beckoned waves, and Zélie's Reaper mother summoned forth souls. But everything changed the night magic disappeared. Under the orders of a ruthless king, maji were killed, leaving Zélie without a mother and her people without hope. Now Zélie has one chance to bring back magic and strike against the monarchy. With the help of a rogue princess, Zélie must outwit and outrun the crown prince, who is hell-bent on eradicating magic for good. Danger lurks in Orïsha, where snow leoponaires prowl and vengeful spirits wait in the waters. Yet the greatest danger may be Zélie herself as she struggles to control her powers -and her growing feelings for an enemy.

[nahoney22]

Hey! Congratulations on 4k followers bestie! I’m going to slide in a Captain Rex request if you don’t mind. Perhaps a steamy & smutty, forbidden love trope with a female Jedi? 😈 I just know you could work some magic! Many thanks of you choose to do this 💖

Hush, Don’t Tell the General***

Captain Rex X F!JediReader

word count: 2k

The tensions were thick after todays mission and you and Rex had to be alone together one way or another.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Minors will be blocked if i see you interact. Explicit sexual content, explicit language, female reader, established secret relationship, forbidden love, p in v, slightly rough sex, semi-public sex, wall sex, creampie, fingering, dirty talk, praises, fluff but also a little bit of angst if you squint. Pre Order 66.

"Another smooth operation, Anakin," Obi-Wan remarked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. It was a tone you had grown accustomed to after the countless missions combating the separatist forces that you had been doing with Obi-Wan and Anakin. And given the situation, Obi-Wan's displeasure was quite understandable.

As a Jedi yourself, you’re typically calm and collected as well as precise in your tactics but Anakin was… something else.

The odds had turned grim and a sinking feeling made you wonder if you'd ever even see another day. However, a particular Captain of the 501st, ensured you escaped with minor injuries. Maybe a few bumps and bruises but nothing too severe.

Anakin, ever the defiant one, retorted, "It's not like I anticipated their reinforcements, Master." He paused, rolling his eyes, "But, let's admit it, it was fun ."

"’Fun’ is hardly the word I'd choose," you said, shaking off some dust from your attire.

Anakin smirked, "Well, the mission was a success. Besides, you had Rex and you were out of that building in the nick of time."

As Rex moved closer, you cast him a sidelong glance. "Barely in time to avoid becoming ash," you pointed out.

Rex meets your gaze and something shifts in Rex's expression. Was that anger? Annoyance? Whatever it was, you were certain it wasn’t directed at you.

"Excuse me," you say eventually, pulling away from the intense gaze of the Clone as well as the incessant bickering of General Kenobi and his Padawan, "I need some fresh air."

Rex's watchful eyes follow you, and you offer a fleeting glance back with a hint of a smile before you're enveloped by the cooling evening.

Wandering the perimeter of the Jedi temple that evening, your mind is seemingly in the clouds as the setting sun paints long shadows on the ground.

But then, you sense a presence. You slip into a hidden alcove and wait. The unmistakable sound of footsteps soon follows.

"You always seem to know where to find me, Captain," you remark without turning, arms folded cockily over your chest upon hearing Rex draw nearer.

"It's all about instincts, General. You told me that."

In a seamless move, his arms encircle you, pulling you close, the warmth of his breath ghosting over the nape of your neck. "Today was... challenging," he murmurs, lips ever so gently brushing against your warm skin that sends ripples of pleasure through you.

"I sense you’re troubled, Captain," you observe, sinking into his embrace as his hold on you becomes more pronounced. "What's on your mind?"

"Today was a close call. Too close. Skywalker's tactics have grown increasingly unpredictable since Ahsoka left," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. As you meet his gaze, your hand gently cradles his face. “I could’ve killed him by putting you in danger like that.”

Seeing Rex angry was a rarity but like he said, today was a close call. His scowl was sharp but as you gently touch him, you see his resolve settle.

"I'm still here thanks to you," you reassure with a soft smile. "Though I can't deny that I've felt a disturbance in the Force around Anakin."

Rex peers deeply into your eyes, searching for answers. "Is this something he's shared with you or just a Jedi intuition?"

"Anakin and I aren't close in that way; he doesn't share his personal struggles with me." You take a step back, leaning against the cool wall, eyes drawn to the now moonlit sky. "However, I trust in General Kenobi's guidance. Training a Padawan is a complex task."

"Seems you've got a somewhat good read on him," he states before you feel the familiar warmth of Rex's body as he leans in. His eyes lock onto yours. "I just wish Skywalker would think twice before jumping headfirst into danger. Putting you in danger.”

"You're concerned about him," you observe, lifting your hand to trace the line of his jaw.

“He’s my General. And… a good friend.” He sighs but then smiles softly upon feeling the delicacy of your fingers tracing along his jaw. “But I don’t want to talk about that right now, I want to talk about my Jedi.”

"Is that so?" Your voice dances with amusement, heart quickening as he draws you in tighter, heat radiating from the closeness. "What do you want to know?"

"How do you go days without our secret moments?" he asks, voice husky with emotion, fingers cradling you just so as he flushes his body against yours. “How can you cope without me being inside you for so long?”

Time had blurred; days, maybe a week or two since your last stolen moment. But for Rex, the longing was evident. As a Jedi however, detachment was part of your teachings, yet Rex was your exception, your beautiful secret. A relationship shadowed in secrecy, known to none, and hopefully, it would remain that way.

You shudder at his words, a heat already panging in your core. He towers over you, his armor making him look larger than he was but not far off.

It’s dominant and striking but so welcoming when his lips descend upon yours after so long, throwing your head back against the wall the force of his kiss.

His hands bite into your hips and you reciprocate by sinking your teeth into his lower lip, a groan deep in his throat. “Naughty girl,” he groans playfully before he pulls away and physically rips apart your Jedi robes, exposing your skin to the cool air.

“Rex!” You squeak in surprise. When you first got together you were pleasantly surprised at his dominating role in the bedroom but to see him so riled up, and in a somewhat public space, was quite unusual yet very exciting. How long had he been missing you?

“I need to have you, I need you so much.” He moves his lips down your neck, kissing over your now exposed collarbones and just over your breasts, cupping them with his hands that had you mewling into his embrace.

“What if someone sees us?”

“I don’t care.” He grumbles, exposing your left breast from under your bra and you let out the faintest whine as his lips latch to youth nipple, sucking delicately.

You cock your leg up, his arm instinctively wrapping under your thigh and keeping it hoisted as he pushes more into you, his length aching behind his codpiece. You held the back of his head, fingers caressing his blonde buzz cut as he flicked your stiffened bud with his tongue before soon, his hand invited its way into your panties.

“Gods, you’re wet,” he almost shivers at the sensation of your juices between your folds, his index and forefinger collecting your slick before he pulls out and you watch in utmost awe as he takes his fingers into his mouth and sucks the taste off, “I’ve missed your pussy.”

“Is that so?” You grin, bringing his lips to yours, tasting yourself on his lips and then wrestling your tongue with his. As if to say ‘and I’ve missed your cock’, your hands move towards his codpiece, letting it clatter to the floor before pulling his warm, twitching cock free.

This time he does shudder. The touch of your hand causes him to groan and naturally start to rut into your grasp as you begin stroking rhythmically at his cock. All the while he tugged at your panties, bunching them up to the side and grabbing your thigh again and bringing you near. “Do you want me to fuck you? Here? Right now?”

You couldn’t deny that there was a risk in all this, being caught would be the end of both of your lives as a Jedi and as a Clone Captain but as he pawed at your pussy again, your pussy throbbed in attic patios and he was too good to resist. You nod eagerly, whimpering as he doesn’t hesitate to push his tip against your entrance as you move your hips forward. “Yes,” you gasp, “yes, fuck me Captain.”

When Rex raised your leg just an inch higher, he slammed his hips forward, plunging his cock into your slippery core; drawing a strangled gasp from the pair of you.

“Oh fuck!” He grunts, his cock adjusting to your walls before he begins to pummel you against the wall, feeling your body react to every thrust he gave.

“Rex,” you whimper his name almost pathetically, hands holding onto his shoulders for dear life as his thrusts become intoxicating, making you sob so loud in pleasure that it covers the sound of his thighs and balls slapping lewdly against your exposed skin.

One thrust in particular had you moaning out loud that one hand came up and moved to bury your head into his neck, tutting at you teasingly, “Hush now my beautiful Jedi, we don’t want to draw any attention to us do we?” But he doesn’t help himself as his hand drops from your thigh to play softly at your clit, while the roll of his hips remain sharp and precise with every word.

“It’s s-so good,” you pant, teeth nipping at the skin of his neck, beautifully scented with a little tinge of sweat.

“And you’re taking me so well, aren’t you?” He cooes, “you sound so precious when you’re needy.”

Your head rolled back, stars starting to blur your vision and not just from the night sky. His fingers worked relentlessly at your clit as he fucks you and you wanted to quip that he was the needy one but you didn’t want to risk an intense reaction that has people come looking. “I’m not g-gonna last any longer Rex, please let me cum.”

“You want to cum, darling? You want to come on your Captain’s cock?” He chuckles darkly, his own movements staggering as he breathes through shaken breaths. “Are you going to let me fill you up?”

“Yes! Fuck, yes! Please cum in me.”

“Always so polite.” He grins, grunting as his high begins to hit. “I’m going to fill you with so much cum that you won’t need me for another week. C’mon, lift your leg a little - that’s right - good girl.” He murmured beautifully, pushing his cock in and out of your pussy lazily.

He could feel your body tensing, knowing that your orgasm wasn’t far. Nor for him either. Your body felt like it was on fire, the need and desire from him after just a few weeks of not being able to touch another was unbearable. And as he asks you if you’re ready to cum, you nodded obediently and he upped the momentum of his fingers between your legs.

Suddenly, the coil in you snapped and you went limp under him, Rex catching you quickly as you buried your face into his neck, muffling your wanton screams of delight. He groaned, low and guttural as he summoned a final slam of his cock into your core once more, coming undone to the feeling of his cock buried deep in you as your juices dripped down his length.

“I love you,” he says tenderly, “I love you so much.”

Rex's confession, whispered with an earnestness that sends shivers down your spine, tugs at your heart. "I love you too," you breathe out, pulling him into a gentle, lingering kiss. Every moment with him was precious, and every goodbye, a horrible heartache.

After a few tender moments, you both recognize the danger of lingering. The reality of your situation quickly comes crashing back. Straightening your attire and composing yourselves, the weight of the galaxy settles back onto your shoulders.

"We'll find our moment again soon," Rex promises, his voice thick with emotion, matching the emotions in your eyes.

"Stay safe, Captain" you murmur, gently letting go of him.

“And you, General.”

Although the war seemed unending and your secret rendezvous scarce, deep down you held onto hope. Hope that one day the galaxy would be at peace, and you and Rex could be free to be together.

Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @photogirl894

[ironstrange1991]

Need

Pairing: Doctor!Strange, Defender!Strange, Supreme!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: After the reader breaks one of the Sanctum relics, she starts to feel a little strange and it is up to the Stephens to deal with the situation in the best way possible.

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Polyamorous relationship dinamics. SMUT: Sex pollen, oral sex with male receiving, masturbation with male receiving, umprotected p in v sex, creampie, cum eating, slight spanking, slight degradation kink, there is probably more stuff that I am not remembering.

A/N: It took me almost a month to write this fic and I know many of you are anxious to finally read it, so I hope you like it and have a good reading.

You weren't feeling well. Your body was aching, but it wasn't a normal kind of pain, it was something very specific. At first you didn't pay attention to the sensations when they started, you ignored them as much as you could because you were worried and embarrassed about having broken one of the Sanctum's relics and you had no idea how to tell Stephen because you were tired of hearing phrases like: Don't touch things you don't know what they are; Don't mess with the relics; Stay away from magical artifacts.

You always did like you were told, but sometimes you needed to clean one shelf or another, you couldn't stand to see the dust gathering and Stephen never remembered to clean them and Defender never had time when you asked him to, so sometimes, against their advice, you did a good job cleaning everything.

It was exactly what you had done that morning. Since you were off work and the three Stephens were busy doing god knows what and you'd be spending the day alone, you decided to be productive and clean up the parts of the Sanctum that were always overlooked in routine cleaning.

Everything was going perfectly fine until you bumped into one of the many vases on the pedestals in the Window of the Worlds Room and it smashed to the floor. Inside the vase there was only earth. Or you thought it was earth, although you could have sworn you smelled a strange smell coming from it. It was a black and thin substance that, when it fell to the ground, raised a cloud of dust, soiling your clothes.

"What the fuck, Y/n" You screamed to yourself bringing your hand to your mouth completely paralyzed. It took a few minutes for you to calm down and clean up everything. As you put the pieces of the vase in a box and tried to pick up that disgusting dust from the floor to dump it in a plastic bag you were pretty sure you inhaled a lot of the substance, but you tried your best not to think about what that meant, although a thought insistent in the back of your head made you scared to death that the thing was actually the ashes of some important master who had died centuries ago and was now stuck to your hands and clothes.

But there were more important things to think about. For example, how were you going to tell Stephen that? He would be so mad at you.

Finally, you hid the box and plastic bag with all the earth you could pick up from the floor and put it on a shelf at the back of the library. You continued cleaning and tried to calm your anxiety by telling yourself that the best thing to do was to tell Defender what happened and ask him to fix the relic before Stephen noticed. You just knew he wasn't going to get mad at you and he would do his best to help you hide it from the other Stephens.

You were finishing your cleaning when you noticed the first symptoms. You felt a little dizzy and thought that was why you hadn't eaten anything in the morning, but then you started to feel hot. Very hot. Which wasn't normal since you were in the middle of autumn.

The other symptoms took longer to appear and it took you a while to notice that something was really wrong.

You noticed that you were thinking about Stephen a lot, which to a certain extent was normal, you thought about your Stephens all the time, however you were thinking about specific parts of their bodies and very specific things they did to you in bed and it was leaving you in an almost unbearable state of arousal.

By mid-day it was clear that those sensations were not normal, mainly because you tried to solve the problem yourself with one of your vibrators and you didn't get any results, in fact the situation seemed to get worse.

You were horny, sweating and aching for Stephen to the point where it became a real pain right between your legs. You couldn't think straight, but you knew it must have something to do with the substance you inhaled and seeing that your symptoms seemed to get stronger by the minute, you overcame your fear and shame and called the first Stephen in your cellphone speed dial.

The phone rang a few times until finally you heard the familiar baritone voice. The sound somehow made the ache between your legs increase.

"Stephen… can you come home, please?"

You didn't pay attention to how your voice sounded, but his response sounded worried. "Y/n? What happened?"

You inhaled and exhaled through your mouth "I'm not feeling well. Stephen, please... can you come home?"

"Honey, tell me what happened." Supreme insisted on an answer.

"Please Stephen, Hurry up!"

...

Stephen and Defender were talking to Wong in his office when Stephen's phone rang. He looked on the screen and seeing that it was Supreme he just declined the call. Whatever it was, it could wait.

A few seconds later Defender's cell phone rang and he excused himself to Wong and left the room to answer it. He came back quickly seeming worried.

"Something happened to Y/n. We need to go home."

Wong didn't ask any questions, he just waved towards the door "Well, go ahead then. Let me know if you need anything."

Stephen walked out of Wong's office with Defender on his heels.

"What exactly did she say?" He asked putting his sling ring on his finger.

"Supreme said she called him begging him to come home. Said she's not feeling well."

Stephen opened a portal to the Sanctum's living room and the two walked through it, finding the room empty.

"And why did she call him?" Stephen didn’t even try to hide his annoyance.

"This is no time to be jealous, Doctor." Defender answered while they went up the stairs and crossed the corridor quickly finding the door to the master bedroom, Stephen's room, open.

When they got there, they found Y/n sitting on Supreme's lap, both arms thrown around his shoulders, face hidden in the crook of his neck. He was stroking her hair, whispering in her ear.

"What happened?" Stephen asked, quickly noticing that her skin was red and glowing, her clothes was wet with sweat.

Hearing his voice, she got up and ran to him, her arms wrapping around his neck, her lips colliding against his. Stephen kissed her quickly, but brought his hand to her forehead.

"Christ, she is burning!" He said casting a worried look at Defender.

Defender touched her arm and as if she had only noticed his presence at that moment, she let go of Stephen and threw herself into his arms.

"I'm sorry, baby. It was my fault."

Defender shushed her "What happened, baby?"

"I was cleaning the house and... it was an accident, I didn't want to break anything, you know I'm always careful with your things..."

Defender shushed her and faced Stephen worriedly. "We should take her to the hospital."

Stephen nodded "Sweetheart, whatever you broke, we'll fix it later. Now, tell me what you're feeling."

She faced him shyly taking Defender's hand and lowering it until it reached between her legs "I’m feeling weird here."

The two Stephens glared at each other and Supreme chuckled nervously. "Did you notice the smell on her clothes?"

Defender buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply. She moaned softly and shamelessly rubbed herself in Defender's hand. "Baby, please. Make the ache go away."

Stephen sighed heavily "What exactly did you break, sweetheart?"

"A vase. It was on one of the pedestals in the Window of the Worlds room."

Stephen shook his head "If it's what I think it is, it could take hours for her to get better and the symptoms are only going to get worse unless we..." He didn't finish what he was saying, instead he glanced at Y/ n moaning and grinding herself in Defender’s hand like a cat in heat.

"Baby...please." She whined.

Defender shushed her and placed a kiss on her forehead. "It's okay, baby. We'll make the ache go away."

Supreme stood up "I'm going to lock the Sanctum. Hope you guys saved your energy today.

...

You were burning. Inside out. But unlike any other known fever you didn't feel cold, you were literally melting in beaks of sweat.

Stephen insisted on putting you under the shower to remove any trace of the magical substance that was stuck to your skin and although the water was cold, you were still burning.

He insisted on soaping you up like he was bathing a child and the whole time he kept his face straight and didn't say a word. That, along with all the weird sensations in your body, brought tears to your eyes.

"I'm sorry, Stephen." You apologized for the thousandth time, your voice trembling. "Please, don't be mad at me."

He sighed heavily helping you rinse the soap off your body and smiled reassuringly "I'm not mad at you. I'm just worried. I don't know how long this is going to last."

You whimpered hearing those words. You just wanted it to stop. "Don't you have any spells you can use?"

He shook his head "Not that I know of, at least." He turned off the shower and wrapped you in a towel "Come on, let me take you to bed, I'll take care of you."

Supreme and Defender were in the room sitting in the two armchairs next to the fireplace, but the fire had been put out.

Stephen touched your forehead "The temperature dropped a little with the cold water" He said sitting you on the bed and going to the wardrobe to get a change of clothes for you.

"I don't feel any better. It's too hot." You complained looking at the silk pajamas he chose for you to wear. "I don't want to get dressed, Stephen. I just said it's too hot."

He sighed rolling his lips "Okay, Sweetheart, as you wish." He placed the change of clothes on top of the bedside table looking unsure of his next actions, so you let go of the towel letting it fall down your naked body. "I need you."

He gave Supreme and Defender a quick look as if he was expecting some kind of approval and you spread your legs so he could fit between them.

Stephen touched your face and allowed himself a smirk "I never thought I would have to make love to you under these circumstances, love. This is for you to learn to listen to me and not mess with the Sanctum relics."

You pouted "But you want to make love to me, don't you?"

He took off the shirt he was wearing and you were eager to touch his defined chest. You scratched at his skin, your hand going down to the waistband of his pants. You helped him to undress. He was hard already and you couldn't help but devour him with your eyes.

Stephen grabbed your chin making you look into his eyes. "I always want to make love to you, sweetheart. Always. But something tells me that’s not what you need today."

You grabbed his cock and started to pump him and Stephen let out a little groan watching you spit in your hand and stroke him nice and hard to get him ready for you. He gently pulled your hand away and took over giving his cock a couple of jerks.

“You need to be fucked and that’s precisely what I’m going to do to you now.” He finally entered you drawing a loud moan from your lips. The feeling inside you seemed to intensify for a moment, but when he started to move you felt relief, it was like you could finally breathe after being submerged for so long.

"Oh Stephen..."

Stephen groaned, his face in the crook of your neck, your legs entwined behind his back. He wasn't being gentle and you didn't want him to be. He was right, this definitely wasn't about making love at all, you were filled with the most basic, primal desire to be dominated by a man and be used without mercy.

Stephen leaned on one of the canopy columns of the bed and considerably increased the strength of his thrusts.

"Yes, right there, Stephen."

He grabbed your chin making you look at him "Does it feel better now?" He asked, his breathing coming in between gasps.

You just nodded.

"I know. My cock is making you feel a lot better, isn't it, sweetheart?"

 You nodded vehemently and clung to his neck, searching for his lips as if you needed them to breathe.

"I need you to come, Stephen. Inside me. It will help, I know it will help. Please."

Stephen groaned loud "Need my cum inside you, uh? That will make the pain go away?"

"Yes, yes, it will. Please, Stephen, cum for me, cum inside me, give it all to me."

Stephen buried his face in your neck getting carried away by the moment and let out a loud moan right by your ear and his thrusts stopped completely and you felt his cum spurting inside of you, thick, warm and so much of it. You moaned feeling a different kind of climax. You didn't come, but it was like your body was reveling in the sensation of having his cum inside you. Like the body of a person who has spent days in the desert and can finally feel the water running down their throat.

Stephen kissed you gently and pulled out. "How does it feel now? Better?" He asked, checking on you. He was panting.

You felt slightly better, but the fire still burned between your legs. Somehow you knew it was far from over.

You bit your inner lip and shook your head.

"It may take some time to actually get better, but we're here, we'll take care of you."

You wrapped your arms around him pulling him back on top of you "I need more, Steph, please..."

He chuckled. "I need a few minutes to get ready for you again, sweetheart." He responded placing a peck on your lips and then addressed Supreme. "She needs more. You take over now?"

Supreme got up with an ironic smile on his lips "Tired already, Doctor?"

Stephen pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, but he didn't respond, wisely deciding that this wasn't the time to argue.

When Supreme approached you stopping beside the bed there was a smirk on his lips and his eyes showed that he was holding back his laughter.

"It's not funny, Stephen." You said slightly offended.

"I know, I know this is a terrible situation, honey, but I can't help it." He said giggling and pulling you to his lips. You slapped his shoulder, but kissed him anyway. You reached for his belts, but he snapped his fingers impatiently and quickly got rid of his robes. You pulled him on top of you, letting his body weight make his cock rub against your clit. It felt good, very good.

You moaned pornographically loudly.

"Of all the relics, you had to bump into that vase." He said nibbling your bottom lip and teasing you.

"Stephen, please..."

"I know, I know." He patted your hip "Turn around. Get on your hands and knees for me."

You complied, but he tsked "Turn full length on the bed. Let's give the other Stephens a better view of our actions."

You did as you were told and pulled a pillow up to your head, hugging it tight and lifting your ass as high as possible. Supreme rubbed the tip of his cock on your slit, using Stephen's cum as lube. He put two fingers inside you fingering you and gave his cock a couple of jerks and finally, finally, entered you with a hard thrust.

He stopped with his dick buried inside you enjoying the feeling "Fuck, honey, you feel so good, so impossibly warm..."

"Stephen, please move." You begged and moaned loudly when he did as you asked. He rested both hands on your waist pulling you against his thrusts at an incredibly fast pace.

"Oh my god yes, yes Stephen, just like that, fuck me just like that.”

He slapped your ass cheek hard, much harder than you were used to, making you yelp. "Yeah, just like that? Who could tell a magical relic could turn my girl into such a needy little whore, uh?"

You whimpered softly feeling the mixture of pleasure and relief flood your body, Stephen's teasing having an effect on you. "Y-Yes, Stephen"

He slapped you again and kept his pace incredibly rough "Such a needy little thing desperate to be fucked. Aren't you ashamed?"

You shook your head no "It feels good, Steph... when you fuck me like this. So good."

Stephen groaned obscenely loud, his fingers carving the flesh of your hips, his heavy balls slamming against your clit as he fucked your pussy with such hunger.

"I know, honey. It feels good for me too. Your pussy is so warm and so delicious... wanna cum inside and fill you with my seed. Will it help calm the ache?"

"Y-yes, it will, please give it to me, Stephen."

You bit the pillow suppressing your desperate moans that were quickly escalating to screams.

"Oh, I will, but I want to enjoy this warm little pussy a bit more. It feels so good."

He brought one of his hands to your hair, gripping it tightly and pulling, using it as a rein to pull you against his thrusts. It felt so good, so right to give yourself to him like that, for a minute all that existed was the two of you and the sounds of the sex you were having, loud and wet.

"F-Feels so good, Stephen, cock's fucking me so good. It's so big."

He slapped your ass ever harder this time, the sharp pain somehow adding to your pleasure. "Cock feels good inside your pussy, uh honey? You know what, I think you made it on purpose, wanted to know how it would feel to be this horny for my cock."

"N-No, I didn't. But it feels good when you're fucking me." You moaned loudly and bit the pillow feeling your whole body tingling with a strange sensation, it was almost as if you could feel your orgasm approaching, but at the same time it was different, too strange, and too strong and it all felt too much. "Please, Stephen cum, it feels too much, I need you to cum."

Stephen groaned "Beg for it, just one more time."

"P-Please Steph, I need your cum, please cum inside me, please."

And so he did. Stephen's thrusts came to a halt, he moaned so loud and you felt his cum spurting inside you. It felt good and you felt relieved. Your legs gave out and you fell face down on the mattress. Stephen supported his body weight on his arms and kissed your cheek.

"Good girl. Tell me, does it feel any better now, or do you need more?

You were panting, your heart was pounding in your ears, yet you know you were far from sated. "N-Need more."

You were scared by the intensity of it. The relief you felt when he was fucking you, or pushing his cum inside you, gave way to the already known need, a desire for sex that seemed inhuman.

"I know, honey. We'll give you more."

...

Defender was extremely hard. His cock was throbbing desperately asking for Y/n, and it couldn't be any different. Even though he was used to sharing her in bed with the other Stephens, watching them fuck her was still one of the most arousing things he'd ever done in his life. Over time he stopped questioning whether that was right or wrong and just enjoyed the moment.

He couldn't believe such a silly accident could have led to that, and the problem wasn’t that she would have to have sex for the rest of the day and they would have to provide that for her, that was a privilege. The thing that was bothering Stephen was that she was, to a certain extent, suffering, and he wanted to alleviate that, he wanted to make the ache go away.

He went to her, eager to play his part, but first, he conjured a glass of water and made her drink it. He took the hair tie that held his hair and tied hers in a ponytail.

"It'll help with the heat." He said caressing her face. "I wish there was more I could do, baby."

She threw herself into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck "I'm sorry..."

"Shh, its okay, we are not mad at you, none of us are mad at you. It was an accident, accidents happen."

Y/n sought his lips desperately and he kissed her. Her hands were eager to free him from his robes.

Stephen let her undress him. He kicked off his boots and got rid of his pants and boxers and sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard.

She grabbed his cock and spat on it and swallowed it whole with such a hunger that Stephen gasped. She started bobbing her head along his length and Stephen grabbed her ponytail and let himself indulge in the feeling of her mouth sucking his cock for a minute, but as soon as he realized how that wasn't going to help her situation at all, he gently grabbed her chin and pulled her off his cock.

"Baby, you shouldn't make me cum in your mouth, it would be a waste. You need it inside, remember?"

She nodded with a sweet pout "But it feels good when I such your cock, baby."

Defender almost melted at those words. God, she was so lovely and he was so in love with her that sometimes it felt like his chest was going to explode. So much love that he never dreamed of being able to feel before he met her.

He pulled her to his lips and she moved to straddle him. "I know it'll be even better if you ride me, baby. What do you think, uh? Would you like to use me to make yourself cum?"

She nodded and he guided his cock to her entrance and she lowered her body letting him stretch her inch by inch.

"Oh, baby it feels so good." She moaned resting both hands on his shoulders.

Stephen let out a soft groan "Yeah? Use me then, baby. Fuck me any way you want. I'm yours."

She moaned loudly and began to ride him at first slowly and then increased the pace, fucking him fast and hard, riding him with such desperation. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him for a passionate kiss, eliciting a hum from him and Stephen closed his eyes forgetting for a moment why they were making love like that in the middle of the day. He just concentrated on the wonderful feeling of having her tight and warm pussy around his cock, squeezing him incredibly tight.

Y/n let herself be carried away by the moment, her forehead pressed against his, her lips stealing passionate kisses from his lips. It felt so good, definitely too good.

Stephen held her waist to make her stop for a second. "Slow down, baby. Don't make me cum yet, I want to last for you."

She nodded, but her hips kept moving albeit slowly. "It feels good. Your cock is making me feel so good, Stephen."

"Your pussy feels amazing too, baby. I never get tired of making love to you, you know that?" He cupped her face and kissed her ardently and in one swift movement he placed her under him and entered inside her again, thrusting slowly but putting intensity into the movements, going deep enough to reach that special part of her that always made her moan louder. . And as soon as he found it, she whimpered.

"Y-yes, baby, right there."

She locked her legs behind his back and dug her nails into his skin.

"Gonna cum for me, uh?" He teased.

Y/n nodded. "Yes, yes, baby, I'm so close. Wanna cum, Steph, please."

Stephen leaned on the headboard to increase the intensity of the thrusts and put his other hand between them, he started rubbing her clit in circles and instantly he felt her pussy fluttering around his cock. She closed her eyes and her whole body started to shake.

"That's it baby, don't hold back, cum for me."

She moaned outrageously loud and grabbed a handful of his hair pulling him to her lips. Stephen kissed her passionately and kept thrusting, prolonging her climax and feeling his balls tightening.

"Fuck baby, wanna cum in you. Can I cum, love? Tell me I can cum."

She smiled sweetly. "Y-yes...cum baby...inside." Her voice sounded shaky and so sweet. Stephen buried his face in her neck and gave a couple of intense thrusts before coming to a complete stop, emptying himself into her.

Stephen knew it didn't matter how many times he had come inside her, every time was special and it always made him feel like the happiest man in the world.

...

You opened your eyes feeling your body tired, but you were far from sated. Although the strange feeling and heat had subsided considerably, the arousal you felt was far from being considered normal. Your body was trembling under Stephen, you were feeling weird in your stomach and your walls were clenching around his cock as evidence of how much you still wanted him.

Stephen's heavy breathing in your ear didn't do much to help your situation as you loved the sounds they made when they finished on you.

You stroked his hair gently kissing the top of his head.

 "How are you feeling right now?" He asked in your ear and kissed your lips gently.

"Better, but I still want you." You replied feeling your cheeks getting hot, but deciding to get over your shyness. There was no room for that when you were with your men. "Actually, I think I need my three Stephens now." You confessed.

He smirked cupping your cheek and kissing your lips again. "Yeah? I'm sure the others are eager to join us."

He pulled out and you stretched out on the bed. You were feeling a little sore between your legs, but you didn't pay much attention to that.

He conjured a cloth to clean you up. "We made a mess on you, baby." He admitted making you chuckle.

"I like it."

You waited patiently while he cleaned you up carefully, being extra affectionate. When he was finally satisfied with his work, he got rid of the dirty cloth and kissed you. Your fingers tangled in his hair and he let out a soft moan. So soft and so sweet.

"I want your mouth now, baby, if that's okay." He asked nibbling on your bottom lip.

You nodded, but gently pushed him away so you could sit down. You hooked your finger, inviting the other Stephens to join in too.

"There's room for more Stephens in this bed." You teased.

Stephen, who had put his boxers back on, walked promptly to you, his cock visibly hard beneath the white fabric. There was a smirk on his lips as he sat down on the mattress beside you and stroked your cheek, the tension from before long gone.

"You have no idea what it's like for me to see them fuck you, sweetheart." He confessed taking your hand and leading it to his cock. "You look so good while being fucked, taking them so well. You make me so proud."

"Hm, I love being fucked by all my Stephens. I feel like the luckiest woman in the world." You responded grabbing his cock through the fabric, moving to sit on his lap and pulling him to your lips. He wrapped his arms around you and thrusted his tongue into your mouth, dominating yours in a big, wet, jealous kiss. It was you who broke the kiss first, running your lips down his neck, biting and sucking the skin while grinding yourself back and forth in his shaft.

He groaned and patted your ass and suggested "Get on all fours and stick that luscious ass out for me so you can suck Defender while I fuck you from behind. What do you think, Sweetheart?"

You nodded, smiling slyly, but cast a questioning look at Supreme who was still sitting, smoking a cigarette and watching you intently.

He smirked "I'll join you soon, honey. Now, do as he says, make me proud."

You nodded at him dismounting from Stephen's lap and positioned yourself on all fours making sure to stick your ass as high as possible while wrapping your arms around Defender's thighs and grabbing his cock. You gave him a teasing look before popping it into your mouth eliciting a loud moan from his lips. He threw his head back indulging in the pleasure of it.

"Fuck baby. Oh yes...she really knows how to suck dick." He praised and Stephen chuckled proudly.

"I know, she is amazing." Stephen answered slapping your ass. "Isn't that right, sweetheart? Show him you're the best."

You let out a muffled moan when Stephen thrust two fingers into your pussy and started to fuck you with them. You felt him nudging your entrance with the tip of his cock and you wiggled your ass teasingly as he gripped your waist tight and entered you with a single thrust. You would have screamed if your mouth wasn't stuffed with Defender's cock.

Stephen kept the pace fast and strong and Defender grabbed your hair that was starting to come loose from the hair tie and wrapped it around his hand, but he didn't push. "That's right, baby, feels so good. Flick that wonderful tongue on the head. Yes, just like that. Such a good girl, such a good baby sucking my cock so good."

You groaned loudly, loving hearing Defender loosing up like that. Usually, he was always very modest in dirty talk, which only made the moment even more exciting.

Stephen slapped your ass again, harder this time, and pulled his cock out of you, teasing. "Such a dirty little girl taking my cock so well, uh? And sucking Defender's dick too. You drive me crazy, you know that? Make me wanna fucking ruin you."

You took Defender's cock out of your mouth to respond to his taunts. "Ruin me, Steph. Fuck me til I can't walk. I'm still so horny."

"Yeah? I guarantee you learned a lesson today, didn't you?"

You pumped Defender’s cock hard and replied "You guys aren't mad at me?"

 "How could I be mad at you if your disobedience resulted in the three of us fucking you like that?" Stephen replied entering you all at once and starting to pound into you, the sound of flesh against flesh and your breaths and moans was all you could hear.

Defender pulled you to his lips, fucking your mouth with his tongue as you let out a moan on his lips.

"He's right, baby. You need to be more careful, but none of us are mad at you. How could we…"

He directed you back to his cock and you spat at it and shoved it in your mouth going all the way down this time, feeling the tip hitting against the back of your throat.

He groaned loudly. "...when you suck cock like that? Fuck, baby. You’re gonna make me cum."

You just hummed in response.

"Is that what you want? Want my cum in your mouth?"

You hummed positively making Stephen groan in response. "Such a dirty little thing. She needs cum in all her holes today, isn't that right, sweetheart?"

"Uh hum" You hummed while Stephen fucked your pussy in such violent pace. You put your all into your work, swallowing Defender's cock and then taking it out of your mouth and flicking your tongue at the head and sucking hard and then running your tongue down the length of it just to swallow it again and repeating the process until he moaned loudly and grabbed a handful of your hair and spurted ropes of his warm cum into your mouth.

"Oh fuck..." He let out something between a groan and a chuckle. "Take it, baby. Swallow it all."

You were aware that this was definitely not Defender's usual behavior, he was usually much softer than that and much less talkative, but you couldn't deny how much that side of him appealed to you.

His moans were like music to your ears. "That's it baby... so fucking good. Oh... love you so much."

You took his cock out of your mouth and made sure you opened it for him to see his cum inside and only then did you do as you were told, swallowing everything and sticking your tongue out for him to see.

“So fucking dirty.” He groaned pulling you to his lips.

"I love you too" You moaned in his lips as Stephen's thrusts became more erratic and you could feel him pulsing inside you.

He let out a loud groan. "Fuck sweetheart, pussy feels too good, gonna cum, tell me you want my cum too, tell me how much you need it."

You moaned feeling that you were close too. Your body responding to his thrusts, the coil threatening to snap each time he hit your sweet spot. "Fuck yes, Steph. N-need your cum, give it to me."

He grabbed your hair and pulled it pulling you against his chest as he fucked you mercilessly.

"Body is desperate for more cum, uh? You're leaking and you still need more?" He teased whispering in your ear.

"Y-Yes. Need more."

"Yeah? You're a greedy little whore, aren't you? One Stephen isn't enough, it takes three to fill that pussy with cum and make the ache go away?"

"Uh hum" You hummed feeling that you were very close to your second orgasm. "Stephen... wanna cum."

Stephen bit your earlobe and lowered one of his hands to the middle of your legs and began to rub your clit in circles. You let out a loud moan. "Oh yes, Steph, make me cum."

He hummed in your ear making sure to rub his goatee in your skin, making it prickle. "Then say it: I'm a greedy little whore who needs three Stephens to satisfy me."

You whimpered repeating the words the way he wanted and once he was done with his teasing he started to pound into you even harder and that added to the stimulation of his long fingers on your clit was enough to make you come, but this time it was bigger, more intense and you felt warm liquid running down your legs. Stephen groaned loudly and started to spurt his cum inside you. He didn't stop thrusting until he was fully finished, pushing his cum inside you with each thrust.

"F-Fuck yes. Oh my god, sweetheart... the things you do to me..."

You felt your legs shaking and Stephen pulled out and you sat up in bed. Your entire body was shaking with the intensity of your orgasm.

"Fuck sweetheart, you squirted all over the bed, made a mess." He stated, but there was a certain pride in his eyes, the corners of his mouth curled up in a smirk. "Was it that good?"

You nodded letting yourself be pulled into Supreme's lap who had returned to bed. You were so lost in your pleasure that you didn't even notice Defender pulling away, he was sitting in the armchair by the fireplace now, dressed in sweatpants, his hair pulled back in a messy bun. He smiled proudly at you, deciding to just enjoy the show as now he was satisfied.

"First time wetting the bed like that, honey? You're going to have to do it again for me now." Supreme teased but you knew he was serious, you could see in the way his irises darkened that he was jealous.

"I... don't know how I did it." You replied feeling your face getting hot. "I never..."

"He knows, sweetheart." Stephen chuckled "I'm sure it will happen again sometime. Now, give me a kiss." He cupped your chin and kissed you and then got up and walked gloriously naked to the bathroom.

Supreme held your chin between his thumb and index finger making you look at him. "How you're feeling now? Pussy still feeling weird?"

You stroked his hair, tucking a few white strands behind his ear and trying to understand how you felt. The desperation and the heat had passed, your body was tired and sore, but you still felt the desire for sex and you knew that wasn't normal, because you had already come twice, the second one being the most intense orgasm you've ever experienced.

"I'm feeling better, but I still need you." You replied cupping his face.

He smirked "That pollen really turned you into an insatiable little thing, didn't it?"

You nodded feeling your cheeks getting hot and buried your face in the crook of his neck. "I didn't do it on purpose. I didn't even know what was in that vase."

He stroked your back, his trembling fingertips brushing lightly across your skin. "I know, I was just teasing you, honey. We know you don't need pollen to be horny."

He took your hand and led it down to his cock. He was so hard for you.

You wrapped your fingers around his cock and turned your head to capture his lips in a hungry kiss. Your lips moved in sync as your tongues fought for dominance, neither of you willing to give in, but when you tightened your hand around his cock and began to pump him at a fast, precise pace he relinquished control moaning loudly and you took the opportunity to win him over by sucking his tongue with a victorious hum.

It was you who moved to position him inside you. You were leaking, Stephen's cum running down your thighs mixed with your own fluids, but neither you nor Supreme cared about the mess at that point. All that mattered was the desire you both felt and as you sank into his cock he moaned loudly cupping your face and making you look into his eyes.

"I love you, Y/n. I love the life we ​​share." He whispered as a secret in your ear.

You grinned as you move up and down fucking him slowly but oh so good. "I love you too, Stephen. I love all my Stephens."

He smirked grabbing your waist and taking control back to himself, moving you on his cock at the pace he wanted, always fast, hard, rough even. The squelching sound of his cock fucking your pussy was so arousing, you were so wet, the sensation was different and so amazing and it wasn't just you who noticed that, because Supreme groaned completely lost in his pleasure and confessed. "Fuck, honey, pussy feels so nice wet like that. Cum is the best lube in the world."

You let out a small giggle letting yourself be manhandled by him and feeling like the coil in the pit of your stomach was about to snap again. He felt it too because your walls fluttered around his cock and he groaned loudly, both of his hands grabbing your ass cheeks and moving you up and down.

"Are you going to come for me now? One orgasm for each Stephen?" He teased and you just nodded, your arms wrapped around his neck to keep your balance as you rocked on his cock.

"Do it, honey. Do it now. I can't hold back any longer. Gonna cum too."

You forced yourself down rubbing your clit on his pelvic bone and let yourself be dominated by the wave of pleasure that washed over you.

Stephen came soon after, pushing ropes and ropes of cum inside you.

You two ended up panting, devouring each other's mouths and moaning.

After five loads of cum inside, you felt the fire and need for sex die down leaving you in a state of exhaustion you couldn't remember ever feeling before. Your body slumped over Stephen and your eyes closed almost immediately and you felt him holding you tighter, but everything around you was an incomprehensible blur.

...

Stephen returned to the bedroom after taking a shower and putting on a pair of pants. He had also prepared the bathtub with warm water and Y/n favorite bath salts, imagining that she would need them to relax after their activities.

"If you guys are done, I prepared a bath for her." Stephen said and Supreme nodded.

"Hear that, honey? A hot bath will help you feel better."

She just hummed and mumbled some incomprehensible words.

Defender got up and walked over to them. "I take care of her." He said taking Y/n from Supreme's lap and taking her to the bathroom.

Supreme quickly cleaned himself up and used magic to dress back in his robes and boots. "I'll take care of the mess Doctor, maybe we'd better take a look at that relic before Wong finds out she broke it."

Stephen nodded. "You're right. Did she say where she put it?"

"At the library. In a box."

Supreme used magic to dry the mattress she had soaked so beautifully and part of him was still fighting the jealousy that scene caused in him. He put clean sheets on the bed and finished organizing everything before leaving. After an afternoon like that, he was begging for a hot shower and some sleep.

Defender knew Y/n was exhausted, so he bathed her quickly and sat her up in bed and helped her get dressed in the silk pajamas Stephen had left on the bedside table. He used magic to dry her hair and helped her under the sheets.

"Is cold." She complained now that she was totally free from the influence of the pollen.

"Do you want a blanket, or do you want me to light the fireplace?"

But she didn't answer, falling asleep almost immediately.

He covered her with a blanket and placed a kiss on her forehead. "Love you baby." He whispered and left the room.

...

Stephen shouldn't have been surprised to find Wong in the library. It was the most common thing in the world, but due to all the events he couldn't help but curse internally.

"How is y/n feeling?" The Sorcerer Supreme asked walking down the hall carrying a box with pieces of what was once a relic.

"She is better now." That's all Stephen said.

Wong smiled to himself. "I will take this to Kamar Taj to repair the relic and its contents."

Stephen nodded. "That's precisely what I came to do now."

Wong seemed to think for a moment before speaking. "You know, there's an herbal infusion that can be brewed to ease the... symptoms, but it looks like the three of you managed to solve the problem quite well."

Stephen was blushing like a teenager. "Yes. Thank you, Wong."

Wong nodded opening a portal back to Kamar Taj. “Keep her away from my relics, Strange.” He demanded.

Stephen sighed watching the portal closing and shook his head still trying to believe in everything that had happened. The things Y/n did to Stephen, to all the Stephens... Yet he wouldn’t change a thing.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

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I was reading your comments about Jon's chivalry and protecting the vulnerable. This all brought to mind Jon's TV ending of stabbing Dany in the heart while kissing her. While we don't know whether or not this version of Dany's end is close to what will be the written version, it seems as though it's possible in part because of the Nissa Nissa legend. Jon doing that in the books (or something like it) would align with the Azor Ahai story, but in a warped sort of way, leaving events open to interpretation (as is usual with the prophecies and legends). But in any case, Jon killing a woman will be an act that is antithetical to so many of his values that it seems like it would come close to destroying him even if justified within Jon's universe. I wonder if Martin really plans to bring Jon this low, but also how it will be received. The optics of portraying such an ending for Dany given today's sensibilities could be viewed even more dimly than it would have been when Martin started writing the series?

(about this ask)

I'm so sorry that it's taken me this long to respond! I have finally reread some pertinent chapters to situate my thoughts.

First, I just want to acknowledge how upsetting this spec is to some, and remind everyone, no one wants this ending. We all think it's gross, we're just discussing the possibility, not merely because of the show, because it's an old theory. I looked around and saw posts about this starting in 2013 by Dany fans. So, the presence of this myth is substantial enough, even BNFs/Jonerys shippers felt like it had a strong chance of manifesting (although they believe Dany would willingly sacrifice herself) well before D&D committed their fuckery. I suppose all that answers your question. Man killing his lover is a gross trope, being forced to kill a loved one to save the world is overused, so now, I can't imagine anyone reading it and being happy about it.

In trying to look at the context in-canon Martin has created, he's taken it out of the strict man kills lover idea of the AA/NN myth, and is discussing the idea of sacrificing an innocent child to a god which fans have already compared to myth, Stannis & Shireen = Agamemnon & Iphigeneia. This sacrifice hasn't happened yet, but it's been confirmed as a Martin plot point. Stannis is already burning people alive, justifying kid killing, and Davos has already planted the Stannis=AA, kid=NN idea:

Davos was remembering a tale Salladhor Saan had told him, of how Azor Ahai tempered Lightbringer by thrusting it through the heart of the wife he loved. He slew his wife to fight the dark. If Stannis is Azor Ahai come again, does that mean Edric Storm must play the part of Nissa Nissa? (ASOS, Davos V)

Although, rather than this being a justified death, the fans will be horrified as we're meant to be. Davos' thoughts call into question the idea of killing another for your "magic sword":

A true sword of fire, now, that would be a wonder to behold. Yet at such a cost . . . When he thought of Nissa Nissa, it was his own Marya he pictured, a good-natured plump woman with sagging breasts and a kindly smile, the best woman in the world. He tried to picture himself driving a sword through her, and shuddered. I am not made of the stuff of heroes, he decided. If that was the price of a magic sword, it was more than he cared to pay. (ACOK, Davos I)

and Martin impresses upon us the value of each life:

"Your Grace," said Davos, "the cost . . ." "I know the cost! Last night, gazing into that hearth, I saw things in the flames as well. I saw a king, a crown of fire on his brows, burning . . . burning, Davos. His own crown consumed his flesh and turned him into ash. Do you think I need Melisandre to tell me what that means? Or you?" The king moved, so his shadow fell upon King's Landing. "If Joffrey should die . . . what is the life of one bastard boy against a kingdom?" "Everything," said Davos, softly. (ASOS, Davos V)

The talk of greater good/killing kids reminds me of AGOT in which Ned's story is inundated with the topic of child murder/protecting kids. We have Mycah, his memories of Aegon and Rhaenys, his promise to protect Jon, his guilt over his lies and treason bubbling up repeatedly, his fight against the assassination of Dany, his attempt to save Cersei's children from Robert...we all know, kid killing is wrong according to Martin, so we've already been told that this wannabe AA's actions are contemptible. The myth in which the sacrifice is happy to die, that sacrificing someone is heroic, it's being contradicted by what we're being shown in the Stannis storyline.

Now, while Stannis is being declared Azor Ahai, we're constantly being told he isn't. Jon calls the act a mummer's farce and comments on his cold sword and that is right before a Dany chapter, so the idea is, Dany is actually AA. @trinuviel is the first person I saw lay out the argument for that and contend that being AA is a bad thing (meta parts 1, 2, 3). People have said that Drogo kinda becomes her Nissa Nissa in that scenario. She burns him to get the dragons, and what are the dragons called?

"When I went to the Hall of a Thousand Thrones to beg the Pureborn for your life, I said that you were no more than a child," Xaro went on, "but Egon Emeros the Exquisite rose and said, 'She is a foolish child, mad and heedless and too dangerous to live.' When your dragons were small they were a wonder. Grown, they are death and devastation, a flaming sword above the world." He wiped away the tears. "I should have slain you in Qarth." (ADWD, Daenerys III)

That kinda makes us think, oh, the myth already has a canon counterpart, don't need to worry about it anymore. Only, we've also said Rhaegar impregnating a young Lyanna could be read as a play on Nissa Nissa, with him risking her life to get the prophecy baby, otherwise known as the third head of the dragon. And Jon is not only a kind of dragon, he repeatedly intones that fun little phrase about being a sword, and sometimes, that happens within an interesting context (for speculation purposes):

"I will." Do not fail me, he thought, or Stannis will have my head. "Do I have your word that you will keep our princess closely?" the king had said, and Jon had promised that he would. Val is no princess, though. I told him that half a hundred times. It was a feeble sort of evasion, a sad rag wrapped around his wounded word. His father would never have approved. I am the sword that guards the realm of men, Jon reminded himself, and in the end, that must be worth more than one man's honor. (ADWD, Jon VIII)

So, although there is one character that seems to be Azor Ahai (Dany), I am definitely open to the myth manifesting, or rather, being examined from multiple angles. IMO, that's what Martin is doing and we can use each variation to reassess what he's saying with it. We have Dany and Drogo (the official one/successful one), Rhaegar and Lyanna (not AA, but Jon is born), Stannis and Edric (denied), Stannis and Shireen (he will kill Shireen, but we don't know if he'll get what he wants and we do know he isn't AA)... lots of pics of a similar idea. To emphasize Stannis not being the dude and Dany being the "real" AA, we have that Jon passage and chapter transition:

Even though we have lots of contenders and commentary about this myth with the canon characters, none of it romanticizes human sacrifice, and all works towards the twist that what is said to be a hero/the weapon that will save people brings destruction. If we look back at it critically, Dany has a habit of accepting, or even causing, the suffering of others for her greater good, including sacrificing Mirri to get her dragons. We might even argue that Mirri is a Nissa Nissa for her, as Dany had taken Mirri under her protection before killing her to get dragons.

That being said, even though we're getting told this shit is bad in canon, the indictment of killing innocents and people who depend on you to protect them, it wouldn’t apply if someone were to kill Stannis or Dany. It isn’t on the same moral level as killing a child, or a spouse who loves and trusts you. It isn't the same as invading and then killing people who won't worship your god or accept you as a leader. It isn't the same as killing a slave, simply because, when their times come, Dany and Stannis will be guilty. After their actions, it would be justice for them to die. I think why other parts of the fandom entertain the idea of Dany as NN while also condemning us for entertaining it, is that Dany's vision does have her being grasped at by hands of her "children" and fans have this idea that she is sacrificing herself/her happiness for the greater good already, and in the AA/Nissa Nissa story, it does sound like she offers herself willingly for the tempering of the sword. So to them, it’s part of Dany’s heroism. Dany's death is inevitable to some, at the hands of Jon is ok, but her not dying a hero, that's unacceptable.

But thinking about how it's been discussed thus far, I can't imagine we're gonna get a romanticized version of the AA/NN myth in canon when so far, it's pretty dark/condemned. None of that precludes Jon killing Dany in what you described as a:

warped sort of way, leaving events open to interpretation (as is usual with the prophecies and legends).

which really sticks out to me as the important part of all this.

The idea that Jon might do it and characters recognize it as a tragic love story a la the myth, that fascinates me because of how Martin has written wild rumors into the story (rumors about Dany, Robb, and Sansa spring to mind), and some of us have written reality and what the public thinks into fic as two distinct things because it feels like a potential way the story might go. What is widely known to be true, like say, Jon being Ned's bastard, may not be the truth that we the readers come to know. There's no guarantee that Westeros will know what the readers know about past or future events. We may get a take on AA/NN, the characters in-world may not understand it the same way.

Jon is undeniably a hero, in a world where institutional corruption is rampant and ideals abandoned, he’s a standout in his values. We would expect, and we find, contrasts between him and these other characters (Dany, Rhaegar, Stannis), primarily, his practical actions that are about saving life/protecting life, even from Stannis, so the idea that he would abandon certain values, it's a tough one. The difference is, while Stannis, Rhaegar, and Dany were acting on these prophecies or visions or dreams, things we're repeatedly warned against trusting in the text, Jon would be taking action based on the fact that Dany is a mass-murderer, a threat to all of Westeros. It isn't a sacrifice to an unknown god for some promised mystical good, it's justice. The religious fanaticism wouldn't be a factor, the killing of an innocent wouldn't be a factor, killing a child wouldn't be a factor, killing to achieve a self-serving end wouldn't be a factor. All the things that have been criticized thus far aren't at play.

The moral quandary presented to the audience in AGOT is killing someone who might be a threat, but is a child at the moment, and Martin presents the sneaky assassination / child killing as abhorrent:

Grand Maester Pycelle cleared his throat, a process that seemed to take some minutes. "My order serves the realm, not the ruler. Once I counseled King Aerys as loyally as I counsel King Robert now, so I bear this girl child of his no ill will. Yet I ask you this—should war come again, how many soldiers will die? How many towns will burn? How many children will be ripped from their mothers to perish on the end of a spear?" He stroked his luxuriant white beard, infinitely sad, infinitely weary. "Is it not wiser, even kinder, that Daenerys Targaryen should die now so that tens of thousands might live?" "Kinder," Varys said. "Oh, well and truly spoken, Grand Maester. It is so true. Should the gods in their caprice grant Daenerys Targaryen a son, the realm must bleed." Littlefinger was the last. As Ned looked to him, Lord Petyr stifled a yawn. "When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, the best thing to do is close your eyes and get on with it," he declared. "Waiting won't make the maid any prettier. Kiss her and be done with it." "Kiss her?" Ser Barristan repeated, aghast. "A steel kiss," said Littlefinger. (AGOT, Eddard VIII)

which is all interesting context for Dany later being assassinated, especially because the first lesson Martin gives us on justice is one that Jon is there for, and then is reiterated in relation to Dany:

Ned had heard enough. "You send hired knives to kill a fourteen-year-old girl and still quibble about honor?" He pushed back his chair and stood. "Do it yourself, Robert. The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. Look her in the eyes before you kill her. See her tears, hear her last words. You owe her that much at least." (AGOT, Eddard VIII)

The convo about killing Dany with LF is about a bedding and before that it was presented in terms of a wedding gift, which makes me squint now knowing the AA/NN stuff:

Yes, it's awful, and I do understand, almost agree with you here:

But in any case, Jon killing a woman will be an act that is antithetical to so many of his values that it seems like it would come close to destroying him even if justified within Jon's universe.

but the way it might tie together the initial discussion of killing Dany and the eventual act weighs heavily with me when determining what Martin might do and why/why not.

The other suggestion is that Arya kills Dany. If having dragons is Chechov's gun for KL burning then Arya being a trained assassin feels like a Chechov's gun for killing Dany. But in that scenario, there is no conflict. No inner struggle. We spent so much of AGOT weighing the morals of killing Dany, it's hard for me to believe when the time comes, it's presented without any moral complexity. Arya is already able and willing to take a life, even when it isn't justified. It doesn't feel right to me that killing Dany would be a presented without an inner struggle, that it would be done easily, as easily as Arya now kills. TBH, it removes the drama if someone other than Jon does it because it will be so highly necessary and just when the time comes. Jon is really the only character who can make it squeamish because of the guy killing a woman thing and because it will be kinslaying.

There is a lot of talk about poison, so I think it's totally possible Arya tries to kill Dany with poison first, but I think Jon is more likely to be the one to successfully kill her, and in a way that calls to mind Ned's opinion on it, See her tears, hear her last words. That would allow Martin to make sure we see it as just/moral, bring home the Targ v Targ issue, and it shades Ned's decisions and values in a very interesting way.

After s8 fans said Ned was wrong to fight against killing Dany in s1, but Martin thinks he was right to object to killing children, so for the two Targ children he was protecting in AGOT (Dany and Jon) to come face to face and one kill the other prevents the conclusion that Ned was wrong. It was the same mercy, the same refusal to see the child of an enemy as an enemy, that saved the boy who will in turn save Westeros. IMO, it's a way to uphold the belief in mercy. I tend to think it’s also Martin’s way of addressing one his questions about his beloved LOTR (what about orc babies etc).

If another person ends Dany, we still get dead Dany, but it doesn't say anything interesting? Killing her wouldn't be a sacrifice on anyone else's part, she won’t be loved and she has to go. But, Jon, who so desperately wants to have honor, if he kills her, it's right as well as an egregious "sin." Ned dishonors himself to protect Sansa (and obvy was committing treason to protect Jon), it feels like coming full circle for Jon, who so wants to be worthy of being a son to Ned to follow his path there too. Also, one thing I expect we’ll keep tracking is kinslaying. Kinslaying comes up with the AA/Nissa Nissa issue in the Stannis storyline, so I do expect that to be addressed in Jon chapters:

We have the whole baby switch to assure us, Jon values human life a great deal. All the same, that involves a moment of cruelty on Jon's side, so Martin isn't interested in keeping him perfectly pure. He likes those moments where doing the right thing is very difficult, even compromising in some way. It's why, while we say Ned committing treason for Jon is a no brainer, Martin writes Ned tortured by it. He likes the inner turmoil over decisions, placing a societal good (honor) against another obligation or ideal and asking what is right.

I wonder if Martin really plans to bring Jon this low, but also how it will be received. The optics of portraying such an ending for Dany given today's sensibilities could be viewed even more dimly than it would have been when Martin started writing the series?

Despite all the ways I think it makes sense, yes, I def think this is one of those areas that if he had finished the series as quickly as he'd hoped, would have gone over better. Dany has dragons, therefore, she will be an overwhelming threat to Westeros, so it isn't like Jon will just randomly kill a woman, yet it's distasteful all the same. Martin is looking at things from the context of his story and the ideas he’s already introduced/talking about though which is why I can wince but kinda understand it. There are other issues where my sensibilities diverge from his, so didn’t like it on the show, I don’t like it for the books, still think it’s probably gonna happen. 🤷🏻‍♀️

[starsallalight]

Open to ships or mutuals

"Can..." Ella began, swallowing thickly. "Can there ever be a time when breaking a promise is the right thing to do? What if it's the only thing you can do?"

[themadsquirrel09]

Eric and Kenny: the paranormal connection (Season 1 to 7)

Some of this has been explored in analysis like this one, but I wanted to look into Eric's and Kenny's mystical connection 🪄

The transplant

Eric steals Kenny's eyes 〰 S3E3 ☆ The Succubus

There are real life stories about people having personality changes after organ transplants.

"The most intriguing finding involved 'disconnected memories.' Several recipients reported vivid memories that seemed unrelated to their past experiences. These memories often involved sensory details, potentially linked to the organ donor."

I think it is also implied that Eric's optometrist is actually a monster (?).

The view of the fandom: For what I've noticed, it is a common headcanon that Kenny and Eric are connected since the transplant. There are fanartist who draw Cartman with heterochromia, mostly keeping one eye brown, or hazel, and the other blue.

I have heard mismatched eyes can be related to being able to see "the other world". Seems like Native American cultures believe people or animals with different colored irises see heaven and earth at the same time; in the pagan traditions of Europe, this was associated with witchcraft. I could not find a reliable source for this, though.

If you are wondering, eyes do not change color because of a transplant, or at least not like that; but it looks great and I think it works because it is South Park: weird things happens there.

We get to see that Kenny has blue eyes on S01E08 ∣ Starvin' Marvin. And Princess Kenny has purple eyes.

Kenny could actually have both; it is said Liz Taylor's eyes shifted color between blue and purple.

Through Kenny's eyes, Wizard Cartman has blue eyes!

Ghost message

Kenny dies in the movie and he appears to Eric as a ghost 〰 South Park: Bigger, longer, uncut.

This analysis is one I haven't found! So why is Eric is the only one who can see Kenny's ghost in the movie? or is the right question: why does Kenny only shows himself to Eric?

Let's explore some possibilities:

Eric is the only who can see Kenny because he has his eyes. It makes sense and the Succubus episode airs before the movie. For what I've found, this is usually the view of the fandom.

Kenny and Cartman have unfinished business. Since they made a bet just before the death! Kenny won the bet, but Cartman didn't pay. Some believe people with unfinished business are stuck and connected to the person who owes them.

It is said that ghosts and demons target the weakest: Cartman is a psycho, yes, also a very lonely child. In this scene Liane is singing to Eric, he asks her to keep going, but she "has to save her voice for work". Before she goes, Eric confronts about the porno video: she lies to him and goes away. Right after that, Kenny appears.

I think the V-chip could also have something to do, since electricity is shocking Cartman every time he curses and ghost are detected as electromagnetic changes in the ambience. It is a bit far fetched (?), but maybe he was working as a medium thanks to the chip.

Because it's funny! The idea of Cartman intimidated by Kenny is just something to giggle to.

1 body, 2 souls

Eric drinks Kenny's ashes and shares his body with him for almost a month 〰 A Ladder to Heaven ☆ S6E12 to The biggest douche in the universe ☆ S6E15.

I mean, wow. Cartman does not only access his memories, he feels like Kenny and sees through his eyes.

And what about what Kyle says? Is that just a fat joke, or could he be referencing the animated postcard that initiated South Park? If you watch it, you see a boy who looked like Cartman, but he was called Kenny. He dies.

They both die.

The name of a person can be important in literature and magic. Long ago, some people didn't revealed their name because it was believed that if other knew it, they could have power over them. An animation which references this is Spirited away (2001).

The awakening

The way Kenny awakes is awesome! This memory makes him speak up throughout Eric:

Kenny awakes at the the third time he shouts "Shut up Cartman, you blood-belching vagina!".

If you like horror, you probably have read or seen this: the act of repeating something 3 times can be a way to summon something or someone. We also get to see this on S11E10 ∣ Hell on Earth 2006!

Kenny was so willful to stand up for himself that he took control over Eric's body just to be heard; at the end of the episode, something similar happens:

After Kenny and Cartman start sharing a body, it all escalates. We see Kenny overpowering the speech and actions. After almost a month, Eric is dying because of this and they have to exorcise him.

My curse is to remember

Lets consider that Eric remembers Kenny's deaths and also a bunch of stuff he should not! 〰 Volcano ☆ S1E3, Cartmanland ☆ S5E6, and others.

The boys go camping and Cartman starts playing with a gun, but it sounds like he is having war flashbacks. Stan says he is lying and of course he could be right, but what if Eric does remember? Pasts lives, Kenny's deaths and who knows what else.

Even if it has never been confirmed, it all points towards the fact that Cartman remembers Kenny's deaths. Here you find my favorite evidence compilation.

Eric seems to be the only one who knows Kenny dies, also he tries to do something about it sometimes. In the End of obesity special we have him trying to reach for Kenny's hand.

Of course, Cartman remembering this kind of stuff can just be a gag, it also aligns with his character as he is some sort of trickster: on cartoon, the most likely archetype to know things they shouldn't, or break the 4th wall.

With South Park, this can be relevant or not, we don't know because of its negative narrative, which I love!

I do think Kenny and Cartman' s paranormal connection is there and their destiny is intertwined by the narrative, but only time will tell.

This was made for the @kenmanweek2023 💘