#fic wish game

[theresthesnitch]

I wish you would write a fic where the narrator is nontraitor!Peter who is just Done™ with his three friends being So Subtle™ about their poly relationship (assuming wolfstarbucks)

Also, I absolutely love your work, I think you are a super talented writer! ✨

Omg this would be SO FUN!

They're all trying to sneak around, but they all suck at silencing charms. Peter has to start using his own. He pretends to go to "chess club" like 3 nights a week, and none of them notice that (a) there's no chess club and (b) it's SO OFTEN. Peter plays so many pranks on them that they never call him out on because "PeTEr DoeSN't KNOw!" Peter uses "not knowing" to guilt them into doing things, like buying him sweets and doing his pranks.

(also, thank you! I apprecaite it so much!!)

Tell me what fic you wish I'd write

[sun-snatcher]

If you're writing for dp3 then Hiraeth from your prompt list would work SO well since they're all stuck in the void! 🤲🏽😭 We need Gambit fics its a DROUGHT HELP

♧ ⎯ LUCK O’ THE DRAW !

summ. You find the Devil himself at the end of the world. Surprisingly, it isn’t the first time you have. It is, however, the first time it hurts. pairing. Void!Gambit x f!Anomaly!reader (established relationship. Kinda. Multiverse be funky like 'dat.) w.count. 1.8k a/n. Because Channing deserved that Gambit all those years ago, and I've come to (attempt to) deliver what the the people have asked. Masterlist here.

MOST PEOPLE MEET THE DEVIL at a crossroads, but you meet yours in— quite literally— the back end of fuckin’ nowhere.

It hurt more than it should.

Your heart practically stutters. 

“Remy.”  

Then he turns, and you wait for the flash of recognition in his eyes.

Nothing comes.

And then. And then.

Realisation— logic. The cold, hard truth: This isn’t your Remy LeBeau. Your Remy had died long before, in a Universe that was pruned and erased into nothingness by the TVA. Your Universe. The joke? That the Gambit before you is merely a variant amongst a million. The punchline? He looks exactly the same as the day you’d lost your own. 

“Well, this is awkward. You know off-shoot Hawkeye here?” Wade says, astonished, before his eyes widened. “Ah. Tragic exposition time for the readers, I see.”

Your mind is still reeling. It feels like someone’s just jammed a chisel straight into your gut. “I— Knew a version. Variant, I guess,” you manage to correct yourself, distracted by the skirting trenchcoat and the all too familiar sound of shuffling cards. 

Christ, it’s like he’d stepped right out of your memories.

Remy’s eyebrows shoot up as he studies you. Something in your chest pulls taut, threatening to snap as he speaks. “Apologies, mon ami. But as far as I remember, I ain’t never seen you before.”

“Ouch,” Wade winces, looking between you both. “What a classic trope! This is like, me talking to my past Mom in The Adam Project. Funnily enough, my Mom was you!” He snorts, pointing to Elektra. 

You ignore Wade and offer Remy a wan smile. “I figured. It’s okay.”

…It is obviously, in fact, not okay. 

You avoid him like a plague shortly after the entire commotion; it’s almost comical. Wade had managed to come up with a plan with the rest of the group, albeit a ramshackle, flimsy one, but you’ve hardly been able to pay attention through the bloodrush of shock rocketing in your head, anyway. 

Being around this Remy is stunningly stifling. 

The lilt of his accent, the sharpness in his smile; the flourishing of cards and the faint hum-drum of kinetic charge against his fingertips. 

You’ve seen it all before, once upon a time. You never thought any of it could ever bring you to this bad of a heel. 

It hadn’t taken long before you’d tried drowning yourself at the end of a bottle of brandy Logan had handed you that night. (The whiskey tames his mordance and makes him uncharacteristically civil. He’d said something along the lines of: Y’need this more than I do, bub; look like you’ve just seen a fuckin’ ghost. Shit, I guess you did, huh? )

“Mais la,” comes a huff. “Ain’t that mine?”

A frisson runs through your heart. 

“Sorry,” you say, barely glancing up from the barrel fire tucked outside the team’s hideout. You’re not quite sure you can handle meeting his gaze. “I know I should’ve asked.”

A playful hum. Remy settles on the log adjacent to yours. “S’alright. No harm done, chèr.”

It takes everything in you not to flinch at the endearment. If he’d noticed, well— he’s smart enough not to mention it. He’s curious and it stands to reason; afterall, he’s never quite seen someone look at him as weathered as the way you do. It’s as if the effort itself to do so would be unbearable.

“Y’kno’, I been told I’m easy on the eyes. Not for you, tho’, eh?” Remy shoots you an amicable smile. It’s charming, if a little compelling. “Guessin’ I made bad on you where y’from? You done been boudéin’ since y’first got here.” 

You let out a laugh. It’s the most brittle sound he’s ever heard come from someone. 

“No, no,” you shake your head. “It’s… You just make me a lil’ homesick, is all.”

Remy bristles with his deck of cards. A Charlier cut; a One-handed shuffle. It’s a mindless tic; your variant used to do the exact same with the exact same ease.

(Such a miracle, you remember thinking once, that there could be symmetries in the Multiverse. Now you learn, perhaps, it’s far more a curse. Either way, you can hear Remy’s doting voice in a distant memory, dimpling coyly at you: “S’just the luck o’ your draw, chèr.” )

You tamp down the memory before it could sink its jowls any deeper in you. 

“You’re curious,” you say.

He makes a noise of assent. Revolution cut; One-handed shuffle. Repeat.

“I ain’t gon’ axe if y’ain’t wanna answer.” 

It’s kind of him. 

You forgot he was like this.

Witty, yet gentlemanly. The way Remy always has been.

Underneath the blanket of the night, the crackle of the flames limn the planes of his face in flickering, hazy saffron. The look in his eyes is sincere as they meet your red-rimmed gaze. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him, and in this light no less: tall, cutting, strong.

Lively.

The last you’d seen Remy, he’d been drawn out and battered by the war. Not that he’d ever admit it; he always insisted on keeping up his sunny disposition despite the constant losing battles happening. (Sometimes you think you resent him for doing that; it’d felt like he’d taken the light of the world with him when—)

You thank your lucky stars the variant Remy doesn’t make a comment on how you must be staring so openly. It’s a feeble attempt to committing every detail to memory, you suppose, in case you don’t get the chance again.

“In my Universe, a war was waging against mutants.” Your nails tinker against the empty bottleneck of the flat whiskey you’d nursed, thinking of how to cut a bloodshed of a story short; to get your point across before you falter and lose your footing.

“There was a mission sanctioned, and during it— a decision had to be made at that moment. So… you chose. Easily.” Your brows pinch tight against your will. The molten burn returns to the back of your eyes. “You saved so many lives the day you died.” 

Something catches in your throat when you realise your mistake, find yourself amending instantly, “He. He died.”

(It had been swift. A small mercy, all things considered. There wasn’t even a need to check for a pulse when you finally managed to reach for him.)

You’re fidgeting, too, with something in your other hand. Remy catches sight of it only now: a card, sitting pinched between your ringed fingers. Nine of Hearts. Its edges are torn and creased across the face, singed an ashen black. 

A proverbial piece of Remy’s heart, carried to the end with you.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a cold rush over his body at the sight. 

“…I’m sorry, chèr,” he offers quietly, inadequate as it is. He hadn’t expected that. 

He can’t imagine how haunting it must be to look at someone you’d shared a lifetime with and be met with a complete stranger instead. 

A living, breathing, ghost.

That unbiddable feeling of longing had always seemed to accompany the sight of him; but now it’s different. Now, there’s a blistering, brutal pain to come with; All-encompassing grief, thick as molasses in your lungs, overturning itself like a phantom from wherever you thought you’d buried it a long time ago. 

The only way to smother it would be to reach out, to hold him like you had once before, and isn’t that an ironic inconvenience? 

“No, no. I’m sorry,” you tell him, sigh coming out as an awkward laugh. A breeze passes and you inhale deep to ground yourself. Press your eyes shut momentarily to will away useless tears. “It must be so weird to hear all of this from me about— well, you, technically.”

“Mais, can’t ‘ave all been a bad memory, tho’, right?”

Right. No. It hadn’t been. There’s something else too. An undercurrent. Beyond the grief, the deep ache in your marrows— you think it’s nostalgia. Hiraeth. More bittersweet than it is painful.

It’s… It’s watching mutant schoolkids teaching him UNO for the first time. It’s the bickering over the beignets for breakfast, or your feet on his lap at the couch in the lounge after dinners with the rest of the X-Men. Lazy banter. Conversations that go everywhere and nowhere.

“Yeah,” you agree, feeling something bloom in your chest you thought long lost. “You taught me everything about your home, too. Down South. Told me about the bayou, the cypress trees. Your Cajun, your ways. We used to play Bourré.”

Talk of home has him ducking into a laugh. Remy had been in the Void far longer than the rest (he figures, at least)— he’s very nearly lost most of his fragmented memories to time by now. “Did I? Oughta’ play a game or two wit’ you.”

You buckle at that. “Ah. You were always the better player.”

Then:

He makes the leap before he runs out of steam. “Was we…?”

His finger darts between the space you two share.

“Oh, no,” you override, sheepishly. “No, we, we were good friends and stayed good friends. I was—” Your breath scurries; a reconsideration. “I was glad with that. You had a Southern belle named Anna Marie. A powerful mutant called Rogue. You two were good for each other.”

You must have given yourself away somewhere, though, the way Remy is reading you with a pinned gaze. It’s the same, levelled look you’ve seen before— the kind he gets in a game of cards. 

Something discerning eclipses in his eyes.

He’d gotten the measure of you in an instant. 

“Gambit musta’ been blind blind not t’see you.”

Ah.

You smile. It’s windswept. Resigned. “Well. Doesn’t matter now, does it? My Gambit’s gone. No matter how much I wish I can see him again.”

Remy’s eyes dart to your hands.

“Y’kno’, chèr,” he begins, something spirited in his tone. “In the world of cards, each a’ these and they suits hold a meanin’.”

He flourishes his deck, hypnotisingly smooth with every elegant cut, fan and spring. Every shuffle cascades as smooth as liquid in the sleight of his hands.

“Some of my folks back in New Orleans I remember, they learned me to read ‘em. Now, outta the whole deck? What you got there; the Nine of Hearts is also called the Wish card.”

The small laugh that punches out of you is bell-like. “Really?” 

It’s warm. Bright. Musical to his ears. It washes over him, and he can’t help but hang on to the peal. He wanted to hear it again. 

“Yes, Ma’am.” Remy clicks his tongue as he shoots you a sunny look. “Would never lie t’you, chèr.”

The cracks in your soul don’t disappear, but they surely lighten as you look gently at him. “Huh. Well, I guess I got my wish, didn’t I?” 

He chuckles. 

“Mais, I ain’t your Gambit but—” 

He leans. Reaches out behind your ear with an empty palm, playfully revealing a gilded card from seemingly thin air with a sharp flick of his wrist:

Another Nine of Hearts. His. He hands it over to you, by way of meaning—  I’m here, now.

New beginnings.

You take the card with a smile.

[crazy-fangirl2524]

Friendly reminder that in the EC Stuart is killed later by the moriyammas and they let Neil know in advance and Neil can’t do anything but know that everyone he knows that’s related to him by blood is dead but he still has a family

[manekijinx]

Sleep Paralysis.

Vaguely inspired by this unfinished fic.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

-

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )

[ethanhuntfemmefatale]

sometimes i think about an AA universe where Edgeworth didn't have to be shuffled off every 5 seconds so he could maintain credibility as a rival....where Phoenix didn't have to win every case...yes AA is a game yes i understand why it did that for the narrative. but when I look at those lonely scared 24 year olds from AA1 i can't help but think that their version of a happy ending would be to be able to get used to each other. to face each other over stupid cases and small things. Sometimes one winning, sometimes the other, until it hardly matters anymore, all that matters is finding the truth together. I want them to take each other for granted!!! i want them to look at the other across the courtroom and say "time to face this bitch for the hundredth time i guess!!" these poor bastards have never had anything approaching emotional stability before let them have each other damn it

[phoenixcatch7]

Loz fandom stop being angsty and give the daydreaming kids on big fun adventures with a cool glowing sword some actual whimsy and joy challenge

[least-carpet]

Maybe a chengxian' meeting post-canon? Platonic or romantic, as you prefer

100 years later, I have given up and concussed Jiang Cheng in the name of love and yunmeng shuangjie reconciliation. You know, if it's not working, give it a smack!

-

This wasn’t precisely the way that he had imagined this reunion going, reflected Wei Wuxian. Jiang Cheng lay across his lap, blood smeared dark against his forehead, face illuminated by a streak of moonlight.

Not that he’d imagined seeing Jiang Cheng again. Well—not on purpose—sometimes it crossed his mind, when he saw Jin Ling out of the corner of his eye. Something about the posture was very like Jiang Cheng as a teenager, if a little more brash and impulsive. Jiang Cheng had always been more hesitant in public, aware of the eyes on him.

Anyway, it had occurred to him, mostly against his will, when he saw Jin Ling or he smelled the sword oil Jiang Cheng had favoured (still favoured?) or someone mentioned Lotus Pier. He’d flung it away each time for some future version of him to deal with. Now the future was here, and it sucked.

Wei Wuxian squinted at the ray of moonlight. At least they wouldn’t be suffocated. The section of the cave they were trapped in had at least one opening that went up to the outside world.

They had tracked a very strange yao back to the cave where it lived, him and Lan Zhan and the juniors, and crossed paths with a Jiang team led by Jiang Cheng himself following the same kind of yao. Unfortunately, it seemed that they lived in packs. The resulting fight had gone badly. An over-eager hit from Lan Jingyi had smashed one into the wall, and that had triggered a cave-in, and now Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian were alone in the dark together behind an enormous pile of rocks. On top of everything else, Jiang Cheng was unconscious, which Wei Wuxian really did not like.

The only thing he could think of to do was prop Jiang Cheng up in his lap and wait for him to come to. He didn’t know what Jiang Cheng would make of it when he woke up, but Wei Wuxian decided that he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

Jiang Cheng groaned and opened his eyes. “What happened?” he asked.

Wei Wuxian looked down at his face, and winced. Those pupils were not supposed to be different sizes.

“You took a hard hit to the head,” said Wei Wuxian, as cheerfully as he could. “Just stay still, will you? Rescue is on the way!”

He assumed, anyway. Lan Zhan wouldn’t just leave him here. He was very reliable like that.

“Rescue? Why the hell are we being rescued? What did we do this time?” complained Jiang Cheng. Something about his voice tugged at Wei Wuxian. It was less assertive that it usually was, tired, almost—whiny?

“You don’t remember?” said Wei Wuxian. This was bad. This was very bad. “There was a yao. Actually, there were quite a few yaos…”

Jiang Cheng let out a disapproving little huff. Distantly, Wei Wuxian noted that he had made no effort to get up from Wei Wuxian’s lap.

“If we’re late to dinner again, A-jie will be upset,” he mumbled.

Wei Wuxian froze. This was very bad indeed.

[squuote]

comparing dialogue once again as you do. anyway. this cut dialogue from the other games ending vs the the 2011/ultra deluxe final game dialogue is interesting. frying my mind a bit.

no deeper meaning to this post i just think it is. intriguing. i love dialogue comparisons sorry </3

[theresthesnitch]

I wish you’d write a fic where all the different universes you’ve written somehow collide. Or random partners get swapped and they’re just sliiightly off and don’t know how to get home or where the tea bags are in the kitchen. Or or omg one from the omega verse gets stuck in a regular universe AND GOES INTO HEAT and the not-omegaverse person is like WHAT THE HOLY EVER LOVING FUCK IS HAPPENING lmao imagine 😂🆘

LMAO this could be SO FUN though. It would be best if they were like similar settings, but just slightly different.

BUT I LOVE THE OMEGAVERSE ONE! The non-omegaverse person would be SO CONFUSED.

I'm absolutely amused by this. 🤣

Tell me what fic you wish I'd write

[necrotic-nephilim]

For the ask game: AU where during Tim's search for Bruce, Ra's agrees to help him on one condition: Tim will sleep with him. (It's probably some kind of scheme on Ra's part.) How their dynamic would change with more overt sexual undertone underlying their interactions...

for the ask game!

UGH i love this type of thing so much. in my heart, this is canon. to me. Ra'sTim my fucked up beloveds you two are so terrible for each other.

so what i think is fun and often misunderstood in fanon is that Tim didn't go to Ra's, Ra's went to Tim. so it's even more fun if Ra's goes to Tim, and has that condition he holds over Tim's head. offering all of Ra's' resources, full access to his computers, someone just genuinely believing Tim and working with him. i think, a lot of it would be a mind game for Ra's. sure he wants to fuck Tim, but more than that, he wants to see Tim's reaction. he expects an immediate no, in the way Tim is so hesitant to work with Ra's in the first place. he's pushing Tim's buttons and basically treating Tim like a rat in a maze. so when Tim says yes, and doesn't seem to hesitate too much. *that's* intriguing. because in a perfect world for Ra's, Tim says yes because of a genuine returned attraction. but Ra's isn't quite sure if that's the reason. it could just be because of Tim's search for Bruce. so Ra's would really push it, see how far he could take the sex. it's simple sex first, but Ra's gets more and more interesting each time. slowly working in kinks just to see where Tim draws the line in the sand, and if Ra's can convince Tim to cross that line.

on Tim's side, i think it's fun if you play with Tim being so deep in the closet he doesn't even realize he's bisexual, yet. so to him, sex with Ra's doesn't *really* count as sex. he knows Ra's is weirdly obsessed with him, and Tim wants to play that to his advantage. he likes the power that obsession gives him, within the League. so, if it takes some sex to satiate Ra's, Tim mentally views it as like, a training session. no worse than those unpleasant endurance trainings Bruce used to make them all do. and i like the accidental catch-22 of it. where at first, the sex does very little for Tim. but the more Ra's gets creative and kinky about it, the more Tim *actually* starts to enjoy it. Tim's bisexual crisis except it's over a centuries-old man showing him the joys of sadomasochism in an agreement that was supposed to be totally normal for Tim bc he just gets himself into these situations.

i think one of the biggest changes would be Tim's sheer amount of power and immunity in the League would be even higher. *everyone* can tell Ra's is fucking Tim, he's not really trying to hide it with the way he looks at Tim and touches him in front of everyone. Tim tries to stay clinical and professional, but you can only look so respected working when Ra's is basically stroking your chest as you work. there are whispers, people keep tellin Ra's not to trust this random son of the Bat, but no one will say it to Tim's face. it'd give Tim more power over Ra's' operation outside of the Bruce search. sure, Tim can't change the nature of the League of Assassins, but he can. tip the scales a bit. pull Ra's back from being lethal in certain situations, convince Ra's not to engage in other places. Tim is careful not to overextend this power so he doesn't lose it, but everyone else sees just how much power Tim has. he even start working on taking people out from under Ra's, when Tim goes nuclear and leaves. like how Tim basically steals Prudence, he steals some other younger Assassins he thinks he can convince to come to his side. because he's with Ra's, he starts to command a level of respect so it's not a difficult thing to do. sure, Tim's just the kid keeping Ra's' bed warm. but also, he's the kid *Ra's* deemed worthy enough to be involved with, so it's a double-edged sword of both disgust and respect held for Tim.

it's so funny to me if Tim starts to catch feelings. Ra's of course has feelings, but Tim has never noticed his feelings for a man before so he's fucking panicking internally. and worse, he's not doing a good job of hiding it. Ra's is perceptive and has centuries of experience on Tim. so he can tell. he sees the look on Tim's face when Ra's does a genuine romantic gesture with no strings attached. and that's when Ra's really leans into it. the sex is one thing, but now it's courting. gifts, pet names, kisses, praise, the whole nine yards. and Tim doesn't outwardly deny any of it because he just... doesn't know what to do with it. he could handle stupidly good sex. but this?? this is new territory. he's constantly reminding himself Ra's isn't a good person. which isn't hard to do but still, Tim's just a little torn internally. also. i think Ra's would at least try to kill Captain Boomerang, if not outright succeed, as a courting present for Tim. and Tim is *horrified*, but then again, in canon, he almost personally killed Boomerang. so maybe. there's something nice about having Boomerang dead, while escaping culpability. Ra's thinks his corruption crusade is working on Tim and is absolutely gloating about it. they even go on a proper date.

but, in the end, Tim still backstab Ra's. i think Ra's would still try to go for control of WI, but would be convinced Tim would be totally okay with it and offers to share control with Tim. that's how Tim betrays him, he's allowed to handle so much of the paperwork, Ra's has no idea until it all goes through that he actually has no control. it's The betrayal. because Tim will always betray his love for what he thinks is the right thing to do. the infamous scene, where Ra's kicks Tim out of a window would go a lot differently. instead of a dramatic fight, it's deeply wounded betrayal. in canon Ra's always knew Tim was never in his pocket, but in this AU, he was naive enough to fall for it. and he's angry. he's angry at Tim, angry at himself. i think he'd straight up try to kidnap Tim. less "kick Tim out a window" and more "intimately hold a knife to Tim's throat" vibes. they part ways, but there's still. something lingering. the bridge isn't fully burned and Ra's is still going to seek out Tim when he needs help, and Tim will seek out Ra's. they'll never trust each other again. but they also can't seem to stop loving each other. Tim hides it from the Batfamily and Ra's never gives Tim that level of control in the League again but. the "i didn't know who else to got to." moments are inevitable and there are whispers in the villain community about how you better be careful around Red Robin because if you're not, you'll piss off the Demon Head. unspoken, deadly protection while still sort of trying to kill each other.

[good-beans]

Last Line Challenge

Rules: In a new post, show your latest line (artwork or written), and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like)!

Thanks @thepatchycat for the tag! I'm currently tackling a gigantic choice-story fic project so have a quick choice result😅

The fire extinguisher’s weight is a reassuring one. You can relax having some control over the chaos that surely awaits.

Tagging people who I know are working on things rn but I feel bad choosing so PLEASE jump in if you want to share -- I'd love to see! :D @fayesdiary @rainbowghostcat @kyanako5972 @luce-speaks @lostxmelody @justzosiahere @yaraneechan @igotbones

[moontearpensfic]

WIP Wednesday Thursday

Thanks for the tag, @itsevanffs! 😌💕

There's a one-shot (? I hope) that I'm working on and have shown snippets for before, which is called Your Wish, My Command! This is a timeline mashup where Harry and Ginny adopt Tom, Tom Sorts into Gryffindor, and Harry returns to Hogwarts to teach DADA.

In the following snippet, Harry was avoiding second-year Tom for a week for... reasons, and Tom has had enough.

"I have a cold, Tom," Harry says, not even trying to sound stuffed up. Nor does his nose look red, or his eyes watery. Truly, there is no difference that is visible to the naked eye. If he has a cold, Tom will give him ten Galleons from his stash of allowance money. (Not that Harry has ever tried to make Tom do anything to earn it, like chores or some such.) "I don't believe you," Tom states baldly. "If you're really sick, you'll come with me to see Madam Pomfrey." "That old bat? No, thank you," Harry says. "I'll take a tonic." Tom makes his eyes as big and sad as he can. "Tom…" He juts out his lower lip. "Please don't," Harry whispers. Tom allows the barest of warbles to enter his voice. "Do you not love me anymore, Father? Have I disappointed you in some way, and you don't know how to tell me?" "What? No! Tom, come here…" Strong, warm arms wrap around him, and Tom sinks gleefully into them, careful to hide his expression in Harry's chest. Though Harry knows Tom is manipulating him, it's best not to rub it in. He learned that early on, where Harry's boundaries are. Not that he doesn't still occasionally prod them.

They are such precious babies! 🥺💕 I love them.

Tagging @duplicitywrites, @cindle-writes, @perhaps-sunlight, @kagariasuha, and @chiocchi! I'd like to see your WIPs, if you're up to sharing! 🥰

[cuubism]

Last line tag game

tagged by @beatnikfreakiswriting, @teejaystumbles, @meadowziplines 🥰

from the third part of Wish, a fic that is truly strange, weird, peculiar, and generally absurd

“Who the fuck kidnaps a pregnant lady?” Matthew exclaims. Dream slants a look at him, and Matthew amends, “Uh, I mean, a pregnant dude.” Hob’s pretty sure that wasn’t the part of the statement Dream objected to and that calling Ye Olde Lord of Dreams dude might actually be worse. “Does that make it worse or better?” Matthew wonders. “Their fate was sealed the moment they threatened my child,” Dream says, ominous as a storm front. “Now their minds belong to the Dreaming, where they will be fed upon by nightmares bearing the faces of their most deeply held fears. For eternity.” “Definitely don’t kidnap pregnant ladies,” Matthew mutters.

tagging @arialerendeair, @im-not-corrupted, @the-apocrypha :)

[princessmyrcellaofwinterfell]

AU: The Age of Queens, How It Could End

The end of the Targaryen and Baratheon civil wars, and in turn their bloodlines, was defined in the era now known as “The Age of Queens”.

Queen Daenerys Targaryen, the restorer, served as the first of this Age’s Queen. Known in her time as the Mother of Dragons and the Breaker of Chains, history remember the last true born Targaryen as “the Bloody Queen” for the immense death toll under her rule. Historian attribute the unprecedented death toll of small folk and nobles alike to a disastrous combination of dragon fire, her immense army, and unknown diseases carried across the Narrow Sea.

Queen Myrcella Baratheon, the bastard, was crowned with the support of House Martell upon the defeat of the Targaryen queen and her dragons. Married to Prince Trystane of Dorne before her coronation, the former Princess’ reign was short lived. Marred by rumors of bastardy and facing the threat of a legitimate Baratheon heir, Myrcella was abandoned by her supporters and executed in the name of Queen Shireen Baratheon, having only enjoyed nine days on the Iron Throne.

Queen Shireen Baratheon, the unlikely, is remembered as the most successful of this Age’s Queens, leading the recovery of the Seven Kingdoms after the bloody War of Five Kings and the subsequent civil wars of succession. A popular Queen, Shireen was known in her time as “the Virgin Queen” for her refusal to marry and her commitment to the Kingdom, her true love and devotion. Historians remember her best as the “ender of bloodlines,” a controversial title to be sure depending on their reasoning but the fact remains that with her death, Westeros lost the last true born heir with ties to the Baratheon and Targaryen bloodlines.

In the end, the best remembered Queen of the Age was not a Queen of the Seven Kingdoms but that of its northern neighbor, the Stark Queen. Queen Sansa Stark, the wolf queen, ruled as a contemporary to Queen Shireen; having negotiated their independence upon the restoration of Baratheon rule in the South. Historians attribute their decades long friendship as the reason for Queen Shireen’s decision to name the Stark Queen’s second born son, Prince Brandon Stark, as her heir. A highly debated decision today, it proved to be an well respected decision at its time; aided by the popularity of the Stark Queen in the South and the rumors of the man who fathered her children. No official record remains of the North’s first prince consort but well substantiated rumors at the time named him a bastard made prince, a hero of the Long Night, of Baratheon or Targaryen blood.

The Westeros “Age of Queens” came to an end with the death of Queen Shireen Baratheon in the South. A decade later, the death of Queen Sansa Stark in the North, marked the official beginning of “The Stark Age,” aptly named for the Stark Kings that ruled the two Westeros kingdoms: King Brandon Stark, First of His Name, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms and King Robb Stark, Second of His Name, King of the North.

[bisexualmultifandommess]

I love the idea of an au where both Nick and Luke survived because I like that they’re like big brothers to Clem but in different ways. This is how I’d see them being if they’d stayed alive.

Luke in the game is definitely the softer of the two but is still very protective. He’d be the one that gently teases her and acts a little immature when bickering with her while the rest of the group are like “bro she’s 12 and you’re 26 act your age” lmao. He’d also be protective in regards to her falling for Louis but would eventually see that Louis is a good kid.

Nick on the other hand is very much a grumpy older brother who doesn’t like to admit that he cares. He feels bad about how he initially treated Clem so will be a little more kinder to her than the others. He’s very protective and while Luke was protective but fair in regards to Clem and Louis relationship, Nick would just stare them down and be much more protective. Clem is mortified and Louis is a little terrified but Nick probably would eventually like him.