#half of them involve rogue

[dragongodryss]

Diary of Fiore's youngest Guildmaster

[littleeyesofpallas]

i still think poison ivy and queen bee should have some kind of messy on again off again work romance /serial fling situation going on as mind control femme fatale villains with complementary bee and flower gimmicks where there's a whole toxic power struggle where it's never super clear which one's trying to/succeeding in mind controlling the other. not for any deep reasons or profound character studies, just for funsies. She should be Rose, Thorn, and Hazel's pseudo second mom and, like, begrudgingly paying villainous child support.

[chaoticwriting]

Part 1

Gotham New Rogue 2

It's been a few weeks since Danny started to become the Trickster. To be honest, it is working very well. His core is expanding fast as ectoplasm is regenerating faster than ever before. He is also slowly developing new abilities and gaining more control and powers to his already established abilities.

For instance, Danny used to struggle making clones, but now he can easily create dozens of them with just a thought. He can also change his clothes to whatever he imagines using ectoplasm now. His ice power is also stronger and easier to control. His superhuman body is developing and slowly getting stronger and faster.

Overall, Danny will say that make a smart decision to become a rogue especially since no one has caught him yet. Danny is currently laying on top of a building watching the sun slowly set in the horizon. His stomach suddenly grumbles and he decides to hit the shack before he gets to "work" tonight.

Jumping off the roof, Danny lands and walks to the nearest Batburger while still wearing his rogue suit. He has a totally funny idea today and it involves him being seen in public. Entering the Batburger is like entering a library for some reason. As soon as he enters, everyone goes deathly quiet.

Danny slowly walks towards the cashier and orders his food.

Danny: 5 sets of set C please.

Cashier: Ermm, that will be 60 bucks.

Danny: Here.

After paying for the food, Danny gets his food and sits at one of the tables alone. It's only after he is through his 3rd set that reality is set in for the people. They begin to move and contrary to Danny's expectations, approach him to ask for pictures. Danny allows them some pictures and unknowingly raises his status as Gotham's friendliest rogue.

Suddenly, a white man that screams rich guy, a woman with blonde hair and a black guy wearing Signal's merch approach him. Danny has learned a lot of things from his 14 years of life and 2 years of half life and Danny knows when a rich guy approaches you, it's never good (Sam doesn't have the rich vibe).

Rich guy: Hello Trickster! May we have a meal with you?

Danny: Sure.

Rich guy: Ah, how rude of me. My name is Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne. These two are my friends, Stephanie Brown and Duke Thomas. You can call me Tim by the way.

Danny: Sure, Tim.

They sit opposite him with their meals and try to make small talks with him while eating. The trio realize that Danny seems to respond a lot better when Steph or Duke is the one to ask the question.

Steph: So, Trickster. Why don't you like my friend here?

Duke: Way to go in being subtle, Steph. Why not ask who is he really next?

Steph: Hey, I can't help it you know. He seems so snarky whenever Tim asks questions. I wanna know if Tim pissed him off or something.

Danny: He is rich, right?

Duke: Err, yes?

Steph: Let's say he is. Why does that matter?

Danny: I hate rich people. And government. But who doesn't hate the government?

Duke: So, eat the rich?

Danny: Yes.

Steph: Cool cool. We are also here just so we could leech him off anyway. We're not really friends.

Tim: Ow, you hurt me by saying that. What happened to our vow of eternal friendships?

Steph: I cross my fingers.

Duke: I lie.

Danny: Hahahaha. You're like my friends.

Tim: You have friends?

Danny: Of course I have friends. And unlike you I don't need money to have friends.

Tim: Sorry sorry. Are your friends also rouges?

Danny: Wouldn't you like to know? Last I need is Batman investigating my friends. I'm sure Batman is part of you rich people group chat or something.

Steph and Duke: *Snickers*

Tim: *Glares at the two* Why would you think Batman is in contact with the rich people?

Danny: Isn't it obvious? Batman has all these high tech gadgets and is always there fast whenever a Wayne is kidnapped. I would even say Batman is being sponsored by the Wayne.

Danny: I also don't like most heroes in general. They are just the government lapdog doing whatever the government wants.

Tim, Steph and Duke frowned at that statement. From the way Danny speaks, it is clear that he has some history against the government. Him being here also means he is at least confident enough to run away if any of the bats are here. Is it just blind confidence or a truly competent ability will remain to be seen.

Tim is just about to refute him when Danny suddenly stands up. All of them tensed up and ready for battle when Danny turns towards one side of the window, waves and disappears right in front of them. They are very confused and when they turn towards the direction Danny was just looking at, they see Batman and Black Bat right on the rooftop across the building.

Batman and Tim nod to each other and they all return to the caves.

-Batcave-

Tim: So you all hear the conversation right?

Dick: Except at the end where the sound becomes blurred for a moment, we hear everything.

Tim: Good. So what are your thoughts on this?

Damian: It is pretty self explanatory Drake. He has a personal hatred towards the government and that extends to all bodies of government or people he thought is connected to the government.

Tim: But why though? Is the hatred towards the government something as simple because he is a criminal? Or is there something else towards it?

Bruce: There is nothing to find about him currently with our limited resources about him. Return to the manor for today and take some rest. We will investigate it later.

All of them return to the manor and rest for the night.

-2 weeks later-

The Trickster is standing in front of an unconscious and tied up Batman. He is giggling loudly that evolves into full blown laughter.

He takes off Batman's belt and starts to pull out stuff one after another. Soon, he found the item that he needed.

Trickster: Hahahahahahaha. I have finally got it. The strongest weapon in the world!

The batfam that is watching the live broadcast shiver as they watch Trickster holds out the black object high in the sky.

Part 3

[syb-rooks]

The bad kids are an incredibly healthy and supportive friend group BUT OH MY GOD THEY SUCK AT COMMUNICATING!

Half of their problems would be solved if they talked to each other.

Fabian would GLADLY pay for Adaine's components and for Riz's tuition if they asked. He would even get his papa to change his trust fund conditions to include them. Or he would declare Riz and Adaine his nemesis.

They would figure out the reason for Fig's misfortune in a week max. They would march into hell, probably accompanied by both Gorthalax and Sandra Lynn, and demand to break whatever deal she made with whichever demon involved.

If Fabian even suggested he was lonely, the bad kids would organise sleepovers every night. He would circle between the Thistlesprings, the Gukgaks and the Mordred Manor. Lydia would pack him his own lunch.

Fig would immediately start promoting Cassandra's religion on all social media, and get her to thousand followers in a week. The rest of the bad kids would join without hesitation.

If Riz would finally admit the HUGE stress he is under, everyone, even Fig, would stop piling all the work on him and happily write their 10 page essays. They would convince him to see Jawbone, and enjoy his last years in high school. They would band together to find the rogue teacher within a day. They would make sure that Riz's resume is the most impressive CV that the universities have ever received.

They would all gather together to come up with music for Fig and Gorgug's new album. Fabian would choreograph their music videos, Adaine would come up with rhymes, Riz would bring a list of all their adventures, including motifs and connections made, to give her inspiration, Kristen would suggest to make parodies of classic camp songs from her old church.

Adaine would contact Aelwyn immediately to get dirt on Porter, to blackmail him. Gorgug would get permission for his MCAT exams by the end of the week.

And if she would stay on the phone a little longer and admitted how much she is struggling, Aelwyn would immediately return home along with her cats. Then she would drag her sister to Jawbone's door, and force her to give him the components list.

The problem is that even after all those years, after all those adventures, even after the forest of the nightmare king, they still each think of themselves as the weak link. As the person in the group that isn't allowed, doesnt deserve to take space, ask for help. Because they should be able to handle it on their own. Isn't that what adulthood is like?

They would abandon anything and everything to help someone else, as long as that person isn't themselves. As long as they dont have to show their amazing, incredible, powerful, and oh so compassionate friends how weak and imperfect they are in comparison.

[corkinavoid]

I just found this in my notes

Apparently, I woke up at 5:23 in the morning, wrote it down, and went straight back to sleep. Trust my hyperfixated ass to still be making content even as I'm unconscious.

Anyways, yes,

DPxDC Trust Me, I'm an Engineer

Danny is half-ghost, but he is also a child of two mad scientists who spent the better part of their lives elbow deep in building all kinds of stuff out of all kinds of junk. Imagine what their kid, who loves science and engineering as much as they do, if not more, can accomplish?

When he moves to Gotham, he decides to leave all the heroics behind, hanging up his cape. Surely, he will be fine - Gotham has, like, what, six? seven? ten? vigilantes of its own. They don't need any more, and, besides, Danny is fairly certain he doesn't work that great in teams.

But there's just... so much crime happening.

Danny doesn't want to get involved, not really. He's retired. But he wants to help somehow!

So, he starts building unconventional devices for self-defense. A rubber duck that shoots lasers out of its eyes? A fork that turns into a shocker? A rice cooker that defends your home in case of an attack? A pen that transforms into a gas mask? You name it, he can build it.

It escalates quickly. Someone asks him to upgrade a baby carriage to a full impenetrable robot that will protect the baby inside it, and Danny decides why not. It's for safety. He installs countless safety measures so nothing could be triggered by mistake, and even though by the end the carriage doesn't look that much different, it proves effective in the first serious accident. In fact, it is so effective that it saves a total of five hostages, including the baby inside it, who didn't even cry because there are soundproof shields inside and recordings of the baby mother's voice.

Danny builds more of those carriages. Then he switches to home defenses. Then someone asks him to make brass knuckles that turn into a gauntlet shield in case of attack. Danny does a thorough check to make sure it won't fall into the wrong hands, but he ends up making it.

It doesn't take too much time for him to start making full-on robotic suits for people. Bulletproof, running on clean energy - Gotham has plenty of residue ectoplasm - with built-in defense mechanisms and stuff.

It is at this point that the Bats start taking a closer look at his inventions. Before that, they thought it was just some Rogue in the making, and they kept an eye on Danny, but never once has he created anything with the purpose of offense instead of defence, so they let it slide. But then Tim gets his hands on one of the suits and comes back to Bruce, nearly salivating over it.

A few weeks later, Danny gets an internship at WE. A year later, he is invited to work with the JL.

And that's when it hits him.

M e c h a s.

He can do real, actual mecha-suits for heroes. He can make them fit those heroes perfectly, enhancing their strengths and negating the weaknesses.

No alien invasion fucks with Earth anymore, because when they do, the JL just grabs their Danny Fenton Suits and whatever evil aliens were aiming to take control are annihilated in no time.

Maybe Tucker joins him along the way. Maybe Danny has an arms race with Lex Luthor, maybe Cyborg bonds with him over the mechanical rambling. What I'm saying is, cool robots for everyone!

[lovebugism]

eddie x shy!reader who has never been kissed before? 🥺

hope u like it :D — you ask eddie why he didn't kiss you last night (shy!fem!r, hurt/comfort, established relationship, 1k)

The night after Steve’s big house party, you wake up on the floor of Eddie’s room. He’d wanted you to take the bed, of course, but you refused to let him sleep alone. The two of you ended up sleeping right next to the mattress, as lovesick as you are stubborn.

His body is warm next to yours — a furnace that warms the quilt under your body and the comforter thrown over you. He’s lying on his stomach with his face shoved into the pillow. Hair wild and mouth open and so, so far away. You feel the distance like a heavy weight on your chest.

Eddie’s breath hitches in his throat when he rouses. His eyes flutter open, and you squeeze yours shut tight. You pretend to be asleep while he stretches his tired limbs. “I know you’re awake, you loon,” he teases through a yawn.

You smile despite yourself, peeking one eye open to find him already looking at you. His curly bangs are frizzed over his forehead. His chocolate button gaze is softly swollen with slumber. He’s sleep-drenched and utterly beautiful.

“No, I’m not,” you insist.

“Oh, yeah?” he huffs and turns onto his side, shifting closer to you. He sighs in contentment when his warm feet entwine with your colder ones. “Sorry, then. Don’t let me disturb your beauty rest, doll.”

He struggles to hold his eyes open, and your tired smile widens. Your hands tremble with the longing to reach for him — to smooth back the curls sticking to his jaw and to cradle his cheek in your palm — but you don’t let yourself. You cage them under your head and crumble beneath the weight of your yearning.

“Do you feel okay?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he answers, slurring slightly as he wakes. “I didn’t drink much ‘cause I knew I had to drive us home.”

He’d partied for an hour or more, soaking in the sunlight of everyone’s drunken attention. You were content just watching him. One painfully awkward exchange on the dancefloor later — involving an almost kiss that ended up as a friendly peck on your cheek — Eddie started to sober up. He scarfed down water and bread and tried to keep a tipsy Robin Buckley from getting into trouble.

“Do you feel okay?” Eddie wonders upon your silence.

“Mhmm.”

“Then what’s this look for, huh?” His hand rises from beneath the blanket and migrates to your face. He runs a gentle finger over the distant frown between your furrowed brows you didn’t realize was there.

“‘Cause you made me sleep on the floor all night,” you tease in a hushed tone.

He scoffs. “I wanted you to take the bed.”

“And Iwanted you to sleep in the bed with me.”

Eddie’s quiet laugh fills the dim bedroom. His crooked smile is quieter. “I just didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable, babe,” he confesses.

“Well, it wouldn’t’ve,” you murmur, gaze averted and half-shut. You busy your fidgeting hand with a rogue thread on the pillow beneath you. You wrap it around your pointer finger until the tip of it blooms a deeper shade.

“Good to know,” he smiles.

“Is that why…” The words get caught in your throat, and you trail off. You don’t bother to finish your sentence. You were barely brave enough to start it, anyway.

“Is that why what?”

You shake your head against the pillow. “Nothing.”

“No, c’mon,” Eddie croons, shifting again until his head’s on the very edge of his pillow, closer now to yours. He flashes you a soft, well-meaning smile. “Finish what you were gonna say…” he lilts quietly.

You swallow hard. “Is that why you didn’t wanna kiss me last night?”

Eddie’s breath catches for a moment. He exhales a forced laugh and musters a wavering smile. “You caught that, huh?”

“Kinda.”

“Sorry…” He doesn’t know what else to say — how to say that he’s head over heels in love with you and that he’s just a total dumbass. It’s somehow easier to apologize for being both.

“It’s no big deal,” you shrug, even though the thought has plagued your mind for nearly twelve hours now. “I just— I wasn’t sure if you, like, never wanted to kiss me ever, you know?”

“I wanna kiss you all the time,” he blurts with a scoffed laugh.

Your brows pinch. Your sheepish eyes flit between both his cinnamon ones. “Then why don’t you?”

“‘Cause I want you to feel comfortable around me,” he shrugs. “And I don’t wanna make you— you know— feel like I only want you around to be all over you all the time.”

You’re made of something softer than that, Eddie figures. You were delicate, like flower petals and early spring. He wants to treat you just as gently. He loves you so hard he’s scared he’ll break you.

“Well, sometimes I want you to be all over me,” you admit in a faint murmur, eyes sparkling and lips quirking.

Eddie grins wide. You have no idea that you’ve just unleashed a pandora’s box of his affection. Now that he’s got your permission to touch you, he’s not sure if he’ll ever stop.

“Noted,” he nods, shifting somehow closer until you’re sharing the same pillow. “What about now then, huh? Want me to be all over you— morning breath and all?”

You peer at him with doe eyes, firm and unblinking. “Want you all the time, Eds.”

“Good.”

He kisses you then, a gentle peck you didn’t know someone as brash as him was capable of. His plush lips press gently against yours, in a fleeting moment you grieve the second he pulls away. 

When he leans softly back to make sure you’re okay — to be certain that you still want more of him — you beat him to the punch. You chase him as he goes, caging his mouth in a deeper kiss that tastes only faintly of sleep. Your exhaled sighs fan together. Your lips click gently when you pull away.

“Woah,” you hear Eddie mumble.

It takes you a moment or more to open your eyes. You don’t realize how utterly dizzy you are until then. “Was that bad?” you murmur, face scrunched with misplaced panic.

Eddie shakes his wild head until the words catch up to him. “No. No, I just… I can’t believe we haven’t been doing this the whole time,” he confesses with a boyish laugh.

Your giggling entwines with his — innocent and pure and golden. He’s kissing the breath from your lungs a second later, with all the intensity of someone making up for lost time.

[xvysarene]

𝔽𝕒𝕥𝕒𝕝 𝔸𝕥𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟

Pairing: Sylus x Fem!Reader Prompt: “Why do you always have to get under my skin?” Words: ~2k Genre: Suggestive Notice: Mentions of wound, profanities

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

Halting at the top of the stairs leading to your flat, your hands tightened around the pocket knife you had begun to carry.

Your eyes scanned the swaying tree nearby, certain that you had caught sight of that damn crow once again.

Since waking up on the white sheets of the hospital two weeks ago, after being rescued from a kidnapping by a certain someone who seemed to vanish into thin air (again), you often caught the mechanical black bird at the corner of your eye.

Locking the front door behind you with a click, the familiar surroundings of your home offered a brief moment of comfort.

Until your eyes landed upon the man sitting on your couch. He sat there as if he belonged.

“To what do I owe this displeasure?” You sighed, not even questioning how he got in, though your door was accessible only with your fingerprint.

A small smirk played at the corner of Sylus’s lips. “It’s good to see your feistiness returning.”

“If you saved me and paid my hospital bills in hopes to gather more information, you’ll be disappointed. I have none.”

One eyebrow, a shade darker than his hair, arched at the unexpected accusation. “Is it so hard to believe that was purely my good intention?”

“I became a puppet in whatever beef you had with my kidnappers. It would be stupid of me to assume that you’d do a goodwill for someone you claim not to care about,” you said bitterly, the memory of the event happening a couple of weeks ago flooding back vividly.

“The great man Sylus can’t take it when someone touches his whore. We were just about to have fun, weren't we, darling?”

Sylus remained unfazed by your capturer’s mockery. One of the lifeless goons was still dangling from his grip, and he casually chucked it to the ground as though it weighed nothing.

If you hadn’t been watching his eyes closely that day, you would have missed the quick flick of his gaze taking the blossoming bruise on your cheek, the half-ripped blouse, and the cold blade pressed against your neck, biting into the tender skin.

“I don’t care about her,” he drawled. 

And not once did his eyes lock with yours. It was stupid to feel hurt by his indifference. You wouldn’t be there in the first place if it weren't for this heartless prick.

Yet his words stung deeply.

The feeling of the wooden door flushed against your back grounded you to the present, trapping you in as he silently closed the distance.

Struggling to remain undaunted, you continued, “You completely ignored me after manipulating me to gain information on the hunters who had begun meddling in your business—”

“I ignored you so those hunters wouldn’t trace you back to me,” he cut you off.

It took a few seconds to let his words sink in. “What?” You gaped.

“Your kidnappers were among the hunters you mentioned to me. They were not UNICORNS’, they were rogue hunters whose leader I killed. That’s why they were after me.”

He ran a hand through his face. “When I realised how unknowingly deep you were in this mess, I had to divert their attention away from you.”

His towering height prompted you to tilt your head upward. The ghost of his fingertips tracing from your cheek, down to the side of your neck, caused you to flinch in surprise.

“What do you think those lowlifes would do if I show even an ounce of care towards you?”

While the bruises had subsided, the scar from where the blade had grazed you remained.

A muscle ticked in his jaw seeing the jagged line. “You weren’t supposed to be involved at all.”

“A bit too late now isn’t it?”

His eyes darkened, an ember of fury passing through them. “I ensured they suffered tenfold for what they did to you, and only then did I end them.”

The sound of breaking bones and desperate noises from that day rang in your head. It was a blessing in disguise that your eyes screwed instinctively as the captor callously tossed you aside.

You didn’t even want to witness the horrors Sylus had done to them.

Your silence drew his eyes down to the pocket knife still clutched in your hand, now looking so harmless. Wouldn’t it be nice to be born with the Evol gene? Maybe then you could’ve protected yourself better.

“Are you still planning to stab me with that?”

“Depends.” Your chin lifted defiantly.

A glint of amusement danced in his eyes as he chuckled lowly, sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

You hated your body for reacting that way. It was infuriating how effortlessly he could affect you.

“Why are you here then? What more do you want from me?”

“You,” he said without a heartbeat’s pause, “I want you.”

It felt as if the air had been stolen from your lungs, leaving you breathless.

Sylus was a big, red warning sign. Much like his eyes. And yet, when he locked you in that magnetic gaze, your brain short-circuited.

He’s got you spellbound ever since you first met him at The Nest, acting like a gentleman by saving you from the overly handsy drunk patrons, before worming his way into your life with calculated charm.

Every colleague had warned you about him, yet you still chose to dance with danger.

“You think you can just walk in here and take whatever you want?”

A slow smile curved the corner of his lips, leaving you torn between wanting to slap it off his face or kiss it away.

Maybe both.

“I can try, right?” His confidence was maddening, and yet, it drew you in like a moth to a flame.

Your mind screamed to push him away, to run, but your body betrayed you, entranced by the undeniable tension that always seemed to exude whenever the two of you were near each other.

“Why do you always have to get under my skin?” you were too breathless, too vulnerable for your liking.

He dipped his head closer, his voice a low, intimate murmur by your ear, “Figuratively or literally?”

The feel of his rough, masculine fingers at the nape of your neck sent your heart racing. 

Haunting reminders of them tightening around your throat, the pressure mirroring his relentless thrusts, would forever be burned in the back of your mind.

Oh, and how could you forget how those fingers always managed to find your sensitive spots, teasing and exploring with an expertise that was both exhilarating and overwhelming?

His hands knew your body as if it were an instrument crafted just for him, every caress producing a harmony of sensations that only he knew how to play.

As he repeated his question, daring you to answer him, you punched his firm chest. “Don't fucking play games with me, Sylus.”

“Who said I'm playing?” His other hand enclosed over your pocket knife, tossing it somewhere behind him. The clattering sound should’ve cleared your head, yet it didn’t. “I know what I’ve always wanted. You don’t know how hard it is to ignore you and not send every guy who eye-fucks you six feet under whenever I visit the bar.”

Underneath the surface of physical attraction and fleeting desires, there was always a complex connection between the two of you that couldn't be easily dismissed.

Those eyes, a deep, passionate red, always glowed with intensity when they fixed upon you, as if nothing else in this world could divert his attention.

As if he wanted to make you his, to protect and treasure with every fibre of his being.

“You're impossible,” you whispered, though it lacked conviction.

With a slight lift of one eyebrow, he asked you a question. So, what's it going to be?

He was a confident man. Direct. In no rush.

You should've felt ashamed when your hands moved of their own accord and tugged at his lapel roughly, but you couldn't care less when your lips met his with equal passion.

The familiar, distinct notes of leather melding with cedarwood enfolded you. As his big palms rested on your bottom, lifting you to ease the strain on your neck, your legs naturally encircled his taut form.

Feeling his thick arousal pressing firmly against your clothed, damp core was an exquisite torture, ripping a deep moan out of you.

Sylus devoured the sound like a starved man finally savouring a long-awaited meal.

His long legs carried you swiftly to the bedroom in less than ten strides, lowering your body onto the mattress with a surprising gentleness, though his lips revealed a contrasting intensity.

Exploring. Consuming. Desiring.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer as he drew a map of sloppy kisses along the curve of your neck.

Until he stopped short at the spot where you knew the slightly raised scar from the blade was.

“I am sorry, I should’ve kept you close.”

The crack of emotion seeping from his voice startled you, forcing your eyes open to meet his crimson orbs already focusing on you.

A vulnerability he hardly revealed to the world softened the stern lines of his face. Swirls of yearning and fury were a turbulent mix in his pupils.

“I won’t let anyone else hurt you again.”

How could this man be so full of contradictions?

He was rough and tender.

Brutal and compassionate.

“Just because I don’t possess any Evol, doesn’t mean that I’m fragile.” 

The caress of your palm cradling his cheek prompted his eyes to drift shut. His lips grazed your wrist, where the skin, once raw and marred red from being bound, had now healed up nicely.

“But if you get hurt because of me, then I will never be able to forgive myself, amore.”

If hearing the familiar pet name tumbling out of his lips didn’t turn you into mush, the sensation of his big palm sliding beneath your shirt certainly would.

His warm and protective touch on your bare flesh sent tingles racing along your skin.

“Come stay with me.”

You weren’t even able to let out a gasp of surprise as Sylus discarded your clothes at such an admirable speed.

“For the night? In the N109 zone?” your voice was embarrassingly high-pitched as his silver hair tickled your sensitive skin. Each kiss trailed lower down your chest like gentle raindrops.

“Do you really think I would let you go after tonight?” A small bite was the punishment you received for asking such a ridiculous question. “Everyone knows how important you are to me by now, and I'm not taking any chances with your security. Everywhere, anywhere—I don’t care, as long as I can keep you safe.”

One of his strong thighs settled in between your legs. The fabric of his pants felt so amazing against your throbbing centre, heightening your desire with each agonisingly slow friction.

It was not fair how he had you under his mercy while asking such a serious question. Perhaps this was his cunning way of ensuring you would say yes.

And you were a lost cause, head bobbing up and down the slightest as you surrendered to his control.

“I need your words, amore.”

His hair was dishevelled, sharp features were accentuated by the city lights as he leaned closer to your face again. Ever so subtle, he pressed his thigh more unforgivingly into your core, driving you crazy.

Red eyes twinkled with mischief as Sylus enjoyed watching you squirm underneath him, delighting in the unfiltered lust flushing your face with each teasing contact.

Ever the insufferable tease, he slid his hand underneath your pants, fingers millimetres away from where you needed him the most.

“Yes, I’ll stay with you! God, you’re the worst,” you almost screamed in frustration as your hips bucked. Gasping, you felt those wicked fingers finally descend lower. “Now, talk less and do more.”

A deep hum of satisfaction rumbled from his chest as you felt his grin on your lips, complying with your request. 

“I am no God, but I’ll make sure you chant my name.”

He would damn well make sure that you two would be christening every corner of his living space—now yours—starting from the sleek granite kitchen countertops, to the plush rug in the living room, all the way to the balcony beneath the moonlit sky.

⤷ ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST

[gulfclan-cg]

GulfClan: Year 1 Lineup

Here's all of the clan founders! Kind of amazed that I managed to crank these guys out in like, a day and a half.

More info on them and GulfClan below vvv

GulfClan was, originally, one of four clans that lived in a territory called 'The Shield'. I say was because most of the clan was wiped out in a massive redcough outbreak many, many moons ago. Any remaining members either became loners or were absorbed into the other three clans.

GulfClan would fade into obscurity until one day, a small group of loners would resettle the territory.

Chickorystar is modern GulfClan's reluctant leader. She, Nightsage, and Cedarkit used to live in a colony on a twoleg farm, until a catastrophic barnfire destroyed their home and killed most of its members. This included Chickory's mother, who served as something of a matriarch for the colony. After her death, Chickory felt that it was her responsibility to guide what remained of her family to a new home.

Soon after the fire, Chickory started having strange dreams about a faraway territory - wild and untouched by the twolegs she had grown so accustomed to. Eventually, she began to receive dream visits from Owlstar, the last leader of old GulfClan. Owlstar explained that she was destined to rebuild the clan in the new territory. Desperate to provide for her remaining family and friends, she agreed and was granted the nine lives of a leader.

Sunglint was originally a kittypet named Sunny. While not a part of Chickorystar and Nightsage's colony, him and Chickory were childhood friends and basically grew up together. When Chickory told him that she, Night, and Cedar were leaving, he immediately agreed to join them.

Sunglint has always been the more outgoing one of the pair and Chickorystar defers a lot of the responsibilities related to the other clans to him.

Nightsage is Chickorystar's...I dunno, aunt I guess?? She was very close with her mother and was closely involved in Chickory's childhood. Night has always had a knack for herbalism, so the role of healer came naturally to her. She used to be just as outgoing and friendly as Sunglint, but losing so many of her friends and family at once have caused her to be more subdued.

Stonepaw is the newest member of GulfClan founders. Originally a rogue, she was caught stealing prey from the group by Sunglint while they were traveling to the Shield. Chickory took pity on her and allowed her to join. She's developed a lot of teenage angst after living on her own for so long.

Cedarkit was orphaned in the fire that destroyed the farm colony. She remembers very little of her family, and considers Night and Chickory to be her surrogate mamas. Also I may have forgotten what her kit skill was shhhhh.

[cynassa]

we were twenty for such a short time

Nightwing found him. It unnerved him, because he hadn't expected to. Red Hood was sitting on a crumbling ledge, helmet off, cigarette stuck in the corner of his mouth. He didn't look like he was out of his mind, or going to go for a gun or knife.

"Why'd you do it?" Nightwing asked, carefully maneuvering himself out of the way of the heavy-looking desk that could be flung at him.

Red Hood grunted. "Don't suppose you've got antiseptic in there somewhere?"

Nightwing shrugged, letting it ripple all over him, where, it should be eminently clear, there was no place for a first-aid kit.

"Figures," Red Hood muttered.

Nightwing set his hip against the wall, not close enough to get in range of Hood's vicious front kick, but close enough to throw an electrified escrima stick at him if necessary. Black Bat was ten minutes away, as was Robin with the Batmobile. Ideally they would get this sorted before Batman was finished and could become involved. He just had to stall for ten - no, nine minutes now. With an on-edge Hood who had killed - no, executed - executed three people.

Hood nodded at the table.

Nightwing raised an eyebrow.

"Why I did it," Hood said. "Since you asked. I'd offer tea and scones with 'em but whoopsy, seems like I'm all out."

A quick flick of his eyes showed three neat nondescript folders. He'd have to put his back to Hood to read them.

Eight minutes.

"Not much of a reader, me," Nightwing drawled. "Why don't you give me the Sparknotes version?"

Hood snorted. He finally lit the cigarette. "Cappello's wife begged me to," he said.

Nightwing tensed.

"Had a porn ring, she said. He's a cop though, so she couldn't get away. Then her girl got old enough to contribute and she just wanted him dead," he said, sounding... exhausted. "Watson was a pimp too. The women told me that he was okay for a bit and then he got greedy and things got worse. Tried putting the fear of Hood into him at first but he'd heard that I was with the Bats, so he just beat them to shut them up after I left. Had some Family connections too, FBI fuckers wouldn't touch him."

He stopped, took a puff at his cigarette.

Seven minutes

Dick was abruptly tired. The Rogues were one thing. But this. These horrors of America's crime capital were unending. A man could die trying to hold them up.

"And Stewart? He was in jail," Dick said.

Jason smoked his cigarette slowly. It was a Marlboro Red Long. Still the same cigarette.

Six minutes

"Stewart, Danny M.," Jason said. "He'd been in juvie, you know? Got off after three months on 'count of good behavior. Kept the connections though. Plenty of connections in his jail too, enough to keep his little racket in the juvies running. And who cares if some street rat with a record goes missing from time to time. Mayor probably called it housekeeping when he took the money from him."

"And so it's got to be you who actually cleans house instead?" Dick asked, wishing he could throw his sticks at Jason, wishing he could put them down and- and?

"Who else do they got?" Jason asked, squinting at Dick. "I tried doing it the other way for a bit, y'know," he said, almost sympathetically.

"Right," Dick said. "For all of five minutes."

Five minutes

Jason shrugged. "Bit more'n that. But yeah, people would come to me and beg me to help them, rescue them, and I'd get these fuckers sent to places that would -- like, pedos don't last long in jail, y'get me? Or sometimes I'd just bribe the jail catering to give them something. But then people stopped being afraid of me, and it all got worse. Twice the effort for less than half the results. I didn't have any control over the trades here anymore, arms trafficking had gone up, they'd started human trafficking again."

Jason had just been killing people anyway. Of course he had.

"You thought that was the other way? Bribing other people to kill..." Dick wanted to bash his face in. "You thought that was right?"

"I'm not the one who does the right thing," Jason said. "That's on you, Big Bird. I'm just the one filling in the gaps the light doesn't reach."

"That's an easy fucking excuse," Dick bit out.

Four minutes

"All these people suffering, and I was sitting with my thumbs up my ass because I wanted a family, while they were losing theirs, how was that right?" Jason continued, like he hadn't heard Dick. "I'd been brought back to do one job, and I couldn't do it, because I was desperate to--" there was a tear at the end of one eye.

"That's not-" Dick gasped, "this isn't what you were brought back for! That's not true."

Jason shook his head. "You don't know that. You don't know how I was brought back."

"Neither do you!" Dick snarled at this nonsense, now wishing he really had just bashed his head in.

"Nah, but I know what it was for," Jason said, oddly peaceable. "I know what I gotta do, and then I can die."

"You can still stop," Dick pleaded, afraid suddenly, of something he couldn't name.

Three minutes

"Nah," Jason said, sad but placid. "There ain't no way but this for me anymore. Sorry, Big Bird. I'll miss you though. I'll miss most of you, I think."

"And now I've got to bring you in," Dick said, voice cracking. "Did you think of that? That now I've got to-"

"Can't let you do that, 'm afraid, still got a job to do," Jason said, half-smile on his face, turning to him finally, pushing off the ledge and moving forward, dropping the cigarette on the table.

Two minutes

Dick squeezed his sticks but didn't raise them. Jason moved swiftly, grabbing his face roughly and leaning down - because he was taller now, because he wasn't the little wing yearning to reach five foot, because he had died - to roughly kiss Dick's forehead. "Take care of yourself, Robin," he whispered and then shoved Dick back.

Dick had tensed in preparation but was still shoved back by Jason's sheer strength. By the time he leapt forward, Jason had thrown himself out of the window. The red Bat wasn't on his armor anymore.

Dick glanced out of the window just long enough to see Jason tumbling into a red moving truck. Then he sensed something and abruptly looked up to see the cigarette had lit up the files unnaturally well, as if they already had a flammable coating. This seemed to trigger some other mechanism, and the building slowly started going down - making a groaning noise as if in warning.

One minute

Dick unhooked his grapple and dived out, landing lightly on the Batmobile as the building slowly but surely came crashing down, so thoroughly destroyed that there was no way anything could be rebuilt again.

I give you back 1948.   

I give you all the years from then

to the coming one. Give me back the moon   

with its frail light falling across a face.

Give me back my young brother, hard

and furious, with wide shoulders and a curse   

for God and burning eyes that look upon   

all creation and say, You can have it.

[molinaskies]

Lanolin: Designed to be Dislikable.

Hi friends. I’ve had a number of people in my digital face over the last few months trying to “show me the light of Lanolin,” but I’ve kept these interactions private because there’s no need to put them on blast. Of course, they're mostly respectful and I’m often reminded that I have a right to my opinion, but there is always an undercurrent that I might have just missed this one small tidbit that could blow the case wide open because how could I possibly not like her? How could I not understand her character and be empathetic to her plight?

But I’ve watched the videos. I’ve read the think pieces. I’ve seen it all. But my opinion hasn’t changed and that does not mean I’m wrong… nor does it mean I’m right! We have two different opinions that should be allowed to co-exist.

I’m being a touch cross here, I recognize. Please forgive me for that, this once. But frankly, I am frustrated—not because people like Lanolin, but because many seem incredulous to the fact that I dislike her. And I can only assume that means I simply have not made myself clear.

Consider this my final take on Lanolin the Sheep until there is some significant development for this character.

I am allowed to dislike Lanolin because she is a fictional character whom I’ve done the research on and have come to that conclusion. Done. That’s all she wrote. Go home.

That aside entirely for the sake of argument, I am allowed to dislike Lanolin because she is supposed to be unlikeable as per her role in this story. I dislike Lanolin because I dislike assholes, but I also like Lanolin because she is doing her job very fucking well! lol

Lanolin is not supposed to be in the right. She is a character who is making major mistakes due to her lack of experience combined with her arrogant dismissal of others, and she will eventually be punished by Mimic’s betrayal to teach the audience some sort of lesson. If half of this comic’s runtime has been about punishing Sonic—the titular character—for his mistakes, then Lanolin can get punished once. I would bet real world money that this will happen.

So many characters are sus of Duo by now and have tried to do something about it but Lanolin gets in the way because she can’t listen to reason. The only reason Silver and Whisper “go rogue” is because Lanolin wouldn’t listen to reason—and her response was still disproportionate because when Whisper tried again to explain herself, Lanolin made her hit the deck.

Lanolin is Sonic with some pieces missing. We know this because Lanolin directly cites Sonic as her inspiration for getting involved in the restoration. However, Lanolin looks at Sonic, sees his behaviour, and emulates it without any understanding or regard for how he has earned the right to do what he does. Sonic is insolent, not arrogant, because he only denies authority when it isn’t earned. Sonic is defiant, not self-righteous, because he believes there are multiple ways to solve a problem. Sonic is empathetic, not sympathetic, because he takes the time to learn and experience what it means to live on the other side. Lanolin has modelled herself off of Sonic because Sonic is a hero, but she’s missed the bigger picture of what that actually means.

Lanolin is cold, unkind, and unwilling to be wrong because she thinks she knows everything she needs to be in this game. That is inherently unlikable to some people and therefore justified.

But there’s more to this, isn’t there?

A huge defence of Lanolin as a character is that “she has baggage that makes her rough around the edges,” and you know what? Fair! You would not believe how empathetic I am to that, trust me. Imma get into it. But the reality of the case is that Lanolin is her own keeper, and if Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, Amy, Rouge, the Chaotix, Tangle, Whisper, Silver, Blaze, Jewel, Belle, and many others can carry their baggage around and still treat others with respect and without verbal and physical abuse, then there’s no excuse. Yes, it takes time to get there, and the whole point of Lanolin as a character is that she hasn’t learned the “everyone is useful just the way they are” and “a leader is nothing without her team” lessons, yet.

But allowing Lanolin to lash out at the world only to let her hide behind her trauma is a deeply reductive portrayal of trauma survivors that I find aggressively problematic. Further, it is a failure to Lanolin as a character because, again, that is not the fucking point of her.

This is the one time I will ever ask anyone here to just “take my word” for something. I’m not comfortable airing out too much of my personal issues on the internet. But below is what I can share.

I come from a very, very broken home that instilled a lot of unproductive defence mechanisms within me. In short, I used to be very mean because I was neglected, and acting out against my peers and showing off my skills gave me attention.

The big ticket, though, is I thought I was good. I thought I was Great. Awesome. Outstanding. AMAZING. I was a natural-born leader with a drive for justice who was good at a couple things. I thought I was doing everything right because teachers liked me and I was getting opportunities. What I never saw—never could have possibly seen until it was spit right in my face—was how I was treating everyone around me as beneath me because I thought I had it in the bag.

It wasn’t until I learned about a very public smear campaign against me that I got a wake up call. When I saw what people were saying, it shattered my entire paradigm not because of just how heinous it was, but because of how much of it was true—and that broke my heart. All I have ever wanted to do was help people. Fight for people. Protect people. Elevate people. Support people. For me to learn I was doing the exact opposite of what I set out to do absolutely destroyed me.

After that, I immediately switched up my game. I pulled out all the stops and really focused on being kinder, empathetic, and encouraging. I started to become more self-aware and mindful of how my emotions and behaviour impacted others, but it still took years to even start to comprehend that I was traumatized, let alone the ways my trauma impacted my relationships and behaviour.

I used to be Lanolin. I was a mean girl getting progressively meaner from ages 11-17, and I am still in active recovery. I still make mistakes. I still fall from grace occasionally, but I am working on it. I’m almost 24 now.

Remember when this used to be about a cartoon sheep? Back on track LOL.

I promise you that while Lanolin has some moments of clarity, she is not largely aware of what she’s doing. She’s not evil. She is not unworthy of love. She just needs time for the story to let her learn.

I am not saying Lanolin does not deserve a redemption. What I am saying is that down her current path and with her current behaviour, she has not yet earned one. And here’s the thing: even though what I’m about to say probably will not happen because this is a kids comic directed at 12 year olds, just because Lanolin might eventually get her punishment, see the light, and apologize for her wrongs while acting on solutions, no one she hurt owes her forgiveness. Whisper can still tell her to fuck off. Silver can send her to outer space, Sonic 06-style. Tangle can yeet her back to kingdom-wherever the fuck she-come from (hush, I know it’s Riverside). 

Why? Because the reality is that even if you are a changed person and have learned and grown from your past discretions, you still hurt people. Even if they do forgive you, they may never trust, and they will never forget. That is the reality I and many others like me live in daily, and to be frank: I think it’s entirely fair. I made mistakes, and I gotta pay the consequences. I deserve grace and patience, but that can only go so far. The people around me are human the exact same way I am.

I personally believe that I have never misunderstood Lanolin as a character. She’s snarky and inexperienced and abrasive entirely by design. She is meant to showcase the “wrong” ways to be a hero and will be corrected. But just because she is a rough-and-tumble person who had a bad day at work does not mean she can come home and treat the world as her personal shitter. No one has that right.

And if you disagree with me, good! Welcome to MolinaSkies.

[societyfolklore]

Loki’s Gift-Giving Guide to Mortal Relations

Title: Loki’s Gift-Giving Guide to Mortal Relations Summary: Loki, in an attempt to ingratiate himself with the Avengers, begins leaving them macabre 'gifts' Word Count:  1.7k

Warnings:  Silliness! Fluff nonsense- humor… (Well not funny funny.. just..this is a silly post)   No beta read, and not super thought out either…just go with it it's Christmas damn it! A/N: Not my idea, inspired by a post made @mycroftrh that has now become whatever this is now...since it’s Christmas (ish)

The Avengers were used to weird things happening around Avengers Tower. It came with the territory of being Earth’s mightiest heroes. They had fought alien invasions, battled rogue AIs, and stopped countless catastrophes, but this-this was something entirely different. For the third day running the group was met with the decapitated bodies of a number what looked to be HYDRA agents. Dumped at their front of their doorstep-neatly tied up with glowing green runes spelling out-

‘To the Avengers, with admiration’-it was becoming, disgusting clear that Loki was up to something…bizarre.

“What the hell is this?” The groan came from Stark while taking in the scene from the lobby, arms crossed as the team stared at the latest ‘gift.’ “Is this supposed to be a threat? Some weird, magic mafia message? Are we being punked?”

Natasha crouched next to the mess, her sharp eyes narrowing as she examined them with her usual no-nonsense precision. “It’s Loki. Has to be. Who else uses this much flair for something so unnecessary?” She gestured to the glowing symbols, her tone tinged with exasperation. “It’s practically screaming his name. Plus, well the green.”

Rogers just let out a heavy sigh, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Why would he send us bad guys all wrapped up like some demented Christmas present? Does he think we’re- allies now?” His tone was incredulous, as if the idea of Loki’s cooperation was more shocking than the elaborate display before them.

Bruce glanced around nervously as if he half expect Loki to just sudden appear tilted his head looking back at the bodies. “Maybe it’s a trap. They could be booby-trapped with…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the bodies of the HYDRA agents, his mind undoubtedly cataloguing every worst-case scenario.

Thor, however, broke into a broad grin as if he’d just discovered something delightful. He stepped forward with his characteristic enthusiasm. “Nay, friends, it is no trap! Loki is merely…” The grin faltered a little as he looked at the concerned looks of his friends but tried to reassure. “Expressing his affection!”

The lobby fell silent. Even Clint, who had been quietly eating a bagel in the corner, paused mid-chew to blink at Thor.

“Affection?” Tony repeated flatly. He stared at Thor as if waiting for the punchline to an elaborate joke. “You’re saying your psycho brother, who once tried to enslave the planet, is affectionately dropping off corpses and terrorists like a murderous Santa Claus?”

Thor nodded enthusiastically, seemingly oblivious to the disbelief in the room. “Indeed! It is the way of our people. He is offering tribute as a sign of respect and camaraderie. Why, on my two-hundredth birthday, Loki orchestrated the assassination of a minor warlord in Alfheim as a gift. It caused quite the interplanar incident, but it was very thoughtful!”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her sharp gaze locking onto Thor. “So… this is normal for him?”

“Aye! Though I… did not realize he extended such courtesies to mortals. This is a great honour!” Thor’s tone was earnest, almost proud.

Tony started rubbing his temple like it would stop the growing headache, letting out a long-suffering sigh. “Okay, let’s backtrack to the part where Prince Diva assassinated a warlord for your birthday. Did… Did anyone explain to him that not all gifts need to involve bloodshed?”

Thor frowned in thought, his expression clouding over as he seemed to piece something together. “We may have tried. Though it occurs to me now that perhaps Odin’s approval of those deeds…” He trailed off, his voice softening as a shadow of realization crossed his face.

Tony’s eyes lit up, his tone shifting to one of mock delight. “Ok, hold up. Are we unpacking trauma? Is this going to be fun?” He turned to Bruce with a grin. “Banner, get your therapy voice ready. Point Breaks about to have a breakthrough.”

Thor waved him off with an annoyed huff. “Loki’s past deeds are of no concern now. What matters is that he seeks your acceptance. These…”-he gestured grandly to the bound and unconscious HYDRA agents-“are his way of saying he wishes to be… friends.”

Clint muttered through a mouthful of bagel, “Yeah, friends who dump bodies at your door.” He took another bite, entirely unimpressed with the explanation. “Which of you idiots asked for a cat for Christmas?”

From the rooftop across the street, cloaked in an invisibility spell, Loki smirked as he watched the Avengers examine his latest offering. Surely, this time, this time they would appreciate his efforts. The Midgardians prided themselves on ridding their realm of filth like HYDRA, and Loki had delivered the scum directly to their door. What more could they want?

“Ungrateful mortals,” he muttered, though his tone was more exasperated than angry. He had spent hours dismantling that cell, carefully orchestrating every detail to ensure maximum impact. From slipping past the hapless guards to embedding subtle chaos spells that left the agents confused and disoriented, every step had been an art form. Even the glowing runes adorning the bindings had been a personal touch-a flourish of his own design.

As the Avengers debated his motives, Loki found himself dwelling on the absurdity of it all. Back on Asgard, such actions would have been heralded as heroic-a declaration of loyalty and cunning prowess. The court would have whispered in awe of the intricate methods and decisive execution. Had Thor truly failed to explain their culture to these mortals, or was he intentionally withholding that knowledge for some unfathomable reason? Was this, perhaps, another one of Thor's oafish oversights?

The idea rankled. Loki’s gaze shifted briefly toward the New York Sky line, his thoughts wandering to the many times he had tried to prove himself. All Loki wanted was acknowledgment. A nod, a smirk, even a begrudging ‘thank you’ from Thor would suffice. But no, they always assumed the worst of him. Always the villain, never the ally. Did they not see that he was trying?

A flicker of irritation danced across his features. Were mortals truly so obtuse, or did they simply enjoy painting him as the antagonist? Surely, Thor could have explained the significance of such gestures. Or had Thor dismissed the act himself, brushing it aside as another of Loki’s ‘antics’? The thought stung more than Loki cared to admit.

He sighed, leaning against the cold stone railing of the rooftop. Below, the city buzzed with life, its mortals scurrying about in their endless routines, oblivious to the grander schemes that played out above them. Perhaps his gestures had been… misunderstood. Maybe these mortals needed something more tailored to their sensibilities-something simpler, less grandiose. A gift of flowers, perhaps? No, that was too banal. A box of chocolates? Loki scoffed at the idea.

Yet, as his thoughts circled back to the Avengers, a different notion took hold. Loki’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. If they wanted less bloodshed, he could oblige. He would find a way to outwit their expectations, to craft a gesture so cunning and sincere that even they could not mistake his intentions. But where was the fun in that? Perhaps he could combine his flair for the dramatic with their mortal simplicity. Yes, that might just suffice.

For now, though, he would watch and wait. The wheels of his mind turned, already formulating his next move. After all, Loki was nothing if not adaptable.

Back at the Tower, Thor finally cornered Loki in one of his dramatic rooftop brooding sessions. Loki had been preparing to slip away after leaving another ‘gift’-a dossier containing the locations of several underground arms dealers, meticulously bound with enchanted ribbon-but his brother’s booming voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Brother,” Thor began, crossing his arms as he approached, “I have come to speak with you about your… gifts.”

Loki turned, his expression an artful mask of indifference. “Gifts? You mean my contributions to your pitiable band of heroes?”

“Aye, those contributions. They do not understand your intent. In truth, they are… concerned.” Thor’s tone was carefully measured, though there was an undertone of exasperation.

Loki’s brows knit together, the faintest hint of a pout forming. “Concerned? I deliver them their enemies, eliminated and gift-wrapped, and they are concerned? Ungrateful wretches.” He sniffed indignantly. “Do they not realize the effort I expend for their benefit?”

Thor clapped a hand on his shoulder, the force of it making Loki’s pristine posture waver slightly. “Brother, Midgardians are… different. They do not view such gestures as we do. Perhaps try a different approach? A… less bloody one.”

“Different,” Loki repeated, his tone dripping with disdain. “Different in that they lack the wit to recognize a masterpiece when it is presented to them?” He paused, crossing his arms in defiance. “And what, pray tell, should I offer? Trinkets? Flowers? Shall I craft them little baubles like some mortal craftsman seeking approval?” His voice was biting, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in his sharp gaze as he flicked his hands about in mocking gesture.

Thor grinned, ever the optimist Loki sarcasm doing nothing to deter is attempt to correct the mistake. “That would be an excellent start. Perhaps something that demonstrates your intellect and skill without… dismemberment.”

Loki’s scoff was immediate, though he didn’t immediately dismiss the suggestion. He paced the rooftop, his coat trailing dramatically behind him as he mulled over Thor’s words. “They are so fragile, these mortals,” he muttered to himself, though loud enough for Thor to hear. “Always repulsed by the sight of blood, offended by the faintest display of power. Fine. If these mortals are so delicate, I shall craft them gifts more befitting their sensibilities.”

Thor’s grin widened, his pride in his brother evident. “Now that is the spirit! Use your brilliance to show them you are more than they believe you to be.”

Loki rolled his eyes but didn’t argue further. “Very well,” he said at last, his tone regal and begrudging. “But if my efforts are once again met with disdain, do not expect me to spare their fragile sensibilities next time. I shall not suffer such indignities endlessly.”

“Agreed,” Thor replied cheerfully, clapping Loki on the back. “I look forward to seeing what you create, Brother.”

As Thor turned to leave, Loki lingered on the rooftop, the wheels of his mind already turning. His expression softened briefly, the faintest trace of uncertainty crossing his features. Could he truly bridge the chasm between himself and these mortals? And if so, would it be worth it? With a deep breath, Loki squared his shoulders, determination hardening his expression. He would try-not for them, but for himself. As he turned to leave, he considered his next move. Perhaps a feast? No… something grander. He had plenty of time to decide. After all, Loki was nothing if not patient.

(And.. I think that might wait till next year... Thank you if you made it to the end of this silly bit of nonsense!)

[nahoney22]

Alanah, my sweet, darling friend, congratulations to you on your many, many followers!! 💜💜 You deserve all of them and I'm more than delighted to be one of them!

My request is for Hunter (surprised? 😜) with the following 2 prompts, pretty please!

🫧15: “Smiling is the second best thing you can do with your lips.” (Fluff list)

🫧4: “The truth is I don’t hate you. I…I tolerate you.” / “I thought you were going to say love.” / and if I did?” (Enemies to lovers list)

Little angst wouldn't hurt, leading to something fluffy and nice...I trust you 🥰

I cannot wait!! 😆💜 Love you so much, bestie!!

Fall With Me 🌊

🫧 Pairing: Hunter X Female Reader

word count: 1.4k

prompts:

“The truth is I don’t hate you. I… I tolerate you.” / “I thought you were going to say love.” / “And if I did?”

“Smiling is the second best thing you can do with your lips.”

Summary: When paired up with Hunter for a mission, it takes a near death experience for you to say how you really felt about the Sarge… but you weren’t prepared for how you really felt either.

Warnings: Safe for Work, Little Angst, Fluff, Reader Is Scared of Heights, First Kiss, Mutual Pining, Female Reader. Not Proofread.

Authors note: I love you too bestie! And no, not a surprise at all 😉 Hope this is okay! Enjoy! Love you so much, thanks for always supporting me. 🩶

“And that leaves yourself and Hunter to pair up.”

After Tech outlined the upcoming mission, the realisation of being paired with Sarge left you feeling a tad uneasy. It wasn't due to any discomfort around him or found him horrible; in fact, quite the opposite. However, the thought of potentially failing in his presence was unsettling.

There had been occasions where you'd caught him casting a displeased glance, not directly at you, but in response to mishaps involving you. So, there was a heightened sense of pressure to perform well. But, you took it with a pinch of salt and hoped to prove yourself to him today.

As Hunter nonchalantly announced, 'Alright, let's head out,' you silently appreciated his professionalism in not opting to change partners. With a quick exchange of well-wishes, the team gathered their gear and set off, Hunter leading the way while you followed closely behind.

Navigating the outskirts of a dilapidated settlement teeming with mercenaries and rogues, Hunter paused to comm the others, prompting you to remain vigilant and on lookout. When happy that everyone was in position, he refocused his attention on you as he inquired, “Ready to get up there?”

Your eyes widened beneath your helmet as you nervously asked, “Up where?”

Stepping aside, Hunter revealed a rusty and precarious ladder partially concealed by vines. A surge of apprehension washed over you; it seemed that Wrecker weren't the only one with a fear of heights.

“Oh.” you involuntarily squeaked, hastily composing yourself. However, Hunter picked up on your hesitation.

“Don’t tell me you're afraid of heights too,” he remarked with a sigh, adding to your mounting anxiety about the partnership. Despite your concerns, you hoped he wouldn't view you as a liability. Before you could formulate a response, Hunter secured his backpack and tethered it to both of you, assuring, “There we go. If you fall, I'll catch you.”

Though his expression was concealed by his helmet, the gesture provided some reassurance and even added a little flutter in your stomach. You may be scared of failing him but that didn’t make him all the less attractive. As you glanced at the connecting cords and then at the daunting ladder, a knot formed in your stomach. “Do I go first?” you tentatively asked.

“Yes. Now, let's get going.” he instructed, giving you a gentle nudge forward.

As you began the ascent, your heart raced with each rung of the ladder you grasped, your gaze fixed firmly ahead, avoiding the sight of the perilous drop below.

"Keep going, don't look down," you whispered to yourself, your fingers gripping the ladder tightly, praying that each rusted bar would hold.

Halfway up, the realisation of the height hit you with full force. Two hundred meters above ground, you reaffirmed your determination but then, as your hand clasped onto the next bar, it gave way, knocking you off your balance.

With lightning speed, Hunter surged upward, positioning himself behind you and using his body to steady yours, preventing you from falling back. "Are you alright?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

Speech eluded you, your chest heaving as the gravity of the situation sank in. Tears threatened behind your visor as you grappled with the near miss. "Just... give me a moment," you managed to utter, completely overwhelmed.

The sudden realisation of Hunter's close proximity jolted you back to the present. "Let's... let's keep going," you rasped, nodding slightly. Hunter obliged, stepping down but keeping a reassuring hand firmly planted on the small of your back, providing much-needed support until you regain your composure.

When you both finally reached the summit, you had to restrain yourself from collapsing to your knees and kissing the ground beneath you. Your limbs throbbed with exhaustion, and your mind reeled from the harrowing ordeal of nearly meeting your demise.

By then, a feeling of embarrassment washed over you. You watched silently as Hunter detached the cord connecting you both and proceeded to relay updates to the team. However, overwhelmed by a flood of emotions, you found yourself leaning against a nearby wall, sinking to your knees as you removed your helmet, frustration evident in the way your fingers raked through your hair.

As Hunter's voice filtered through the comm, he briefly looked at you and concern crossed his face. “Hold tight until we are able to move forward.” He relays to the others before he abruptly cuts off the transmission, takes off his helmet and approaches you.

"Hey," he said softly, drawing your attention, "are you alright?"

Though you wanted to respond with an affirmative, your throat constricted with unspoken emotions, preventing anything but a shaky denial. Biting your lip to stifle any whimpers, you just shocked your head but found solace in his company.

"Why are you upset?" he inquired, his confusion mirroring yours as you struggled to articulate your feelings.

Sniffling, you released a heavy sigh, avoiding his gaze as you confessed, "I just feel like I always mess up around you, and that I annoy you… and I just nearly died!”

Your words tumbled forth in a torrent of insecurity, your ramblings a desperate attempt to verbalise how you felt. However, Hunter remained patient, allowing you to unload your burdens until you uttered the words that hung heavily in the air.

"What did you just say?" he interjected, genuine confusion etched in his features. "You think I hate you?"

Meeting his gaze, you hesitated, uncertain of how he would react. "I just thought..."

"You thought wrong," he interrupted gently, a small chuckle escaping him. "I don't hate you. I..."

His words trailed off, leaving an unspoken sentiment lingering between you. He seemed in deep thought as he pondered whether or not it was appropriate to express how he really felt.

Perhaps not, and so he held back, his silence speaking volumes as he searched for the right words. But you stared at him, wondering what he was really thinking.

Catching your expectant gaze, he offered a wry smile. "I tolerate you," he quipped, the humour in his tone breaking the tension and eliciting a relieved laugh from you, tears wiped away.

"For a second, I thought you were going to say 'love,'" you blurted out without thinking, only for Hunter to match your unfiltered honesty.

"And if I did?" Hunter's response caught you off guard, his eyes widening slightly, but he didn't retract his words.

Tucking a loose piece of hair behind your ear, you tilted your head at him. "And do you?"

He visibly gulped. "I don't think it's a surprise that I'm not great with talking about how I feel," he admitted nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

Stunned, it took a moment for his words to sink in. "I don't know what to say," you whispered, completely bashful as your cheeks burned.

"You don't have to if you don't want to… I just thought you should know that my strict ways come from a place of me caring about you. A lot. I'm just not good at expressing things," he explained, his quiet vulnerability bringing a smile to your lips, a sight he secretly always adored. "I'm happy to see you smiling again. It suits you."

"Oh yeah?" you teased, mischief gleaming in your eyes as the newfound revelation sank in. "Your smile isn't too bad yourself, Sarge."

He chuckled, placing a hand over yours. The two of you gazed at each other for a moment, the mission completely on hold as you reveled in this new adventure. However, there was no hiding the signs of him looking at your lips and then back to you. "You know," he started, taking a nervous breath, "smiling is the second-best thing you can do with your lips."

Reading the signs and anticipation hanging in the air, you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his. Time seemed to stand still as the galaxy around you faded away.

He sighs against you, the kiss deepening with a loving desire. Your hands found their way to his face, fingers tangling in his hair as he pulled you closer. Hunter responded eagerly, his arms wrapping around you, holding you in tight as the kiss ignited a fire within both of you.

Lost in the moment, you explored each other's lips with a soft hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface. The kiss was electric, sending waves of happiness through your body, making your heart race and your skin tingle in excitement.

Finally breaking apart, you gazed into each other's eyes. "I've wanted to do that for a long time," Hunter confessed, his voice low and husky.

You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth flood through you. "Me too," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Without another word, Hunter pulled you close once again, his lips finding yours in another searing kiss, revealing all the unspoken words. The mission could wait for a minute or two.

Tags: @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia a @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @photogirl894 @the-bad-batch-baroness @lulalovez @thiswitchloves9904

[dullgecko]

Riz had been out of school for a week, which would have been worrying if both himself and Fig hadn't left a message in the group chat before disappearing. The archdevil had apparently needed his help and had even paid him for his services as a detective before they both disappeared to the bottomless pit and were out of contact range.

It hadn't been dangerous, but it had apparently involved quite a lot of reading and research which is what their rogue was basically made for. Some tedious legal issue that Fig had gotten herself wrapped up in and, with Riz as her 'legal council' he'd had to come help sort it out.

They'd met back up at Basrars once the whole thing was over, Fig explaining between mouthfulls of icecream the whole sordid affair that had apparently involved at least two fights that she'd wished the rest of her party had been there to help with. It was all over now though, Riz looking exhausted yet satisfied with a good weeks work as he ate his icecream a lot slower than he usually would.

Apparently they would have gotten back earlier but Fig had dragged the poor goblin to a party to celebrate their victory and they both had to sleep off a variety of sustances (hell parties went hard apparently) before they were up to faceing civilised society again. Fig had even come back sporting more ear piercings than she had the last time they saw her, having gotten them in the middle of her celebration binge, and was happily showing off the new jewelery to whoever was listening.

Fabian wasn't listening. In fact he'd checked out of the whole conversation a full ten minutes ago, right about the time Fig was explaining the whole 'legal' mess she'd gotten herself involved in. Right about the time Riz had been handed his sundae, took the spoon he was given and had placed a massive scoop of icecream in his mouth. Opening his jaw far enough that you could see the fresh, shiny new piercing on the end of his long dark tongue before he shut his mouth again. The goblin wincing when the cold icecream was apparently a little uncomfortable and slowing down his eating pace.

It certainly explained why Riz had been so quiet after getting back, but now the half elf was fixated on getting another glimpse just to make sure he wasnt seeing things.

[escelia]

Thank you so much to everyone who enjoyed the first part! I hope I didn't miss anyone in the tags.

You can click here to read the prologue and here to read part one.

Enjoy~

Not So Normal pt2

Bruce had gathered his whole brood in the Batcave for their debrief. This time, Danny included. He'd hoped that one day he would bring Danny down here and tell him all about their nightly activities, just not so soon. His newest son didn't even seem fazed at all by all the vigilantes flooding into the cave. Not that that really meant anything with him floating down through the ceiling with Dick and Damian in hand. To think one of the kids living under his own roof was a meta and he hadn't noticed… he had to step up his game as Gotham's greatest detective.

"Is the Joker alive?" Was Bruce's first question once everyone was situated and settled. He had a personal rule about not killing his rogues, but honestly, after what the Joker pulled, he thought he might be able to overlook it. After all, when an eldritch being takes a life, who is he to argue?

"Of course he's alive! Nobody dies when I get involved." Danny puffed his chest proudly. He hadn't broken his no casualty streak since he started hero work over a year ago. Not many heroes could say that, and Danny worked damn hard to keep it that way.

Bruce let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Out of relief or disappointment, he didn't know.

"Next question. Where and what is 'clown jail?'"

"It's a subspace of the Infinite Realms." The detective tucked that term away for questioning later. "It's a trick I picked up from my Head Guard back in the Realms. It's basically a space where you experience whatever punishment I think fits your crime. But it's all psychological, so no one ever gets hurt there."

"And what's his punishment?"

"Are you a meta or an alien? I can't tell at this point."

"How long have you known about us?"

"Why did you look so different back at the warehouse?"

"You have a Head Guard?"

The questions came in like a flood. Danny flushed at all the attention, unsure where to start first. He looked to Damian for help, but he only folded his arms and smiled smugly. That little traitor! But he supposed that's what he deserved for waiting so long to tell his family. In his defense, the last time he told a family about his abilities he'd ended up strapped to a table with a scalpel poking at his spleen.

"One question at a time, please!” Danny screeched, covering his face in embarrassment. He stared at Damian pleadingly one more time.

"I told you to tell them before something drastic happened, so don't look at me. "

"You knew?" Jason pouted. Damian just smirked and puffed his chest in pride. He knew exactly why Daniel hadn't told them, but had been confident that his new family wouldn't react the way his old one had. Perhaps this would teach Daniel to trust him a bit more. And wasn't it something that Damian wanted Daniel to trust him.

"They aren't like the Fentons, Daniel. You should tell them."

The words were like a balm on Danny's nerves. The others were smiling patiently at him, judgment absent in favor of eager curiosity but not in the cruel way it had been on Jack and Maddie's faces. He took a deep breath before starting in on the details. No place like the beginning, he guessed.

He told them about how he half died when he was 14 and all the abilities he gained as a result. He told them about his hunter parents and his colorful array of rogues turned friends. Bruce had paled considerably when he got to the part about Pariah Dark whisking their town away and his subsequent defeat of the Ghost King. And he looked downright nauseous when Danny detailed his victories over several of the more godlike entities of the Realms, like Overgrowth and Vortex. He left out Dan, skipping to the part where he'd effectively become the ward and apprentice to the Master of Time, Clockwork. And finally, he told them about Jack and Maddie.

When he'd stumbled into Gotham after the vivisection and begged Bruce to take him away, to protect him, "please, I just wanna feel safe again," he'd told him that it was abuse and refused to outline the details. This time, he looked him in the eyes, and with one finger wrapped around Damian's for support, he told his family about how the Dr's. Fenton had cut him open and poked around in the name of science.

"So… you're not a meta?" Duke asked in the silence that followed Danny's confessions. He had to admit he was grateful his brother wasn't dwelling on his past. Damian had been right, they were taking it well. Boy, did he let it show on his face in a typical, 12 year old, "I told you so," fashion.

"I don't have a metagene and I'm technically half-dead, half-alive. Damian used the term Pseudo-Meta. I kinda like it."

"So let me get this straight," Jason began. "Since dying, you won the Ghost King's crown by right of conquest, defeated several godlike entities, who are now your friends, and your mentor is the literal God of time?"

"Pretty much."

"Damn," he whistled. "I don't think I died right the first time. I want a do-over."

Danny snorted in laughter and Damian tutted at him while the others elbowed him in ribs.

"Does that make you a god?" Dick teased.

"I don't think so, but every time I ask Clockwork he gets all cryptic, so maybe?"

Bruce was getting a headache.

~~•○•~~

"Alright, it's time to solve some real mysteries now," Tim said with a gleam in his eyes. They'd migrated up to the kitchen for post patrol cookies. Alfred had been pleasantly surprised when Bruce had explained that, thanks to Danny, everyone had made it home relatively unscathed. And considering they'd had a run-in with Joker, that was worthy of cookies in his opinion.

"Danny, how in the world did you get Damian to stop trying to stab you?"

"Actually, yeah! You guys have gotten really close. What's the secret?" Dick asked with a raised eyebrow. Damian rolled his eyes and answered for Danny.

"I challenged him in combat and Daniel accepted. It's not my fault none of you were intelligent enough to realize it was a bonding tactic." Bruce tried to hide his laughter in his mug while the others blatantly gawked at him.

"No way."

"I have a picture of the first time he managed to graze me in a sparring session! You guys wanna see?" Everyone swarmed him to see the photo. Dick cooed and tried to pinch Damian's cheek, but was met with snapping teeth. Steph, with eyes sparkling, just muttered, "cute," so as not to stir the youngest's ire. Danny ended up promising to send the picture into the group chat later.

"By the way, you never did say what Joker's punishment was," Jason mentioned casually. Danny smiled cruelly, his frosty blue eyes glowing.

"His greatest fear, of course! A prolonged stay in a Gotham that has not nor will ever know the Joker. I swear, I've never met a clown that wasn't a total narcissist." Danny popped the last bite of a cookie into his mouth and dusted the crumbs off on his pants. "No one is allowed to hurt my brothers. Ever."

~~•○•~~

Damian was just about to climb into bed when he heard a knock at his door. He looked up just in time to see Danny phase through it into his room.

"Why even bother knocking?"

"Because it's polite!" Damian rolled his eyes. "I just wanted to say thank you for earlier." He took a seat at the end of the bed and Damian sat next to him, as was tradition for their late night chats.

"I'm the one who should be thanking you," Damian countered. "You weren't ready to tell everyone, and yet you came when I called."

"Of course I did. You're my little brother. And I'd do it for any of you." Danny nudged him with his shoulder, and it earned him a tiny, barely there smile.

"Thank you Danny."

"Using a nickname, huh? Don't let Dick hear that, he'll think you're playing favorites."

"Of course not. I have a reputation to uphold after all. Besides, Richard already thinks you're my favorite. It's giving him a complex."

"Well, aren't I?"

"Tt, don't push your luck."

There was a beat of silence before they erupted into laughter. Danny was so proud that he could make Damian laugh, even if it was more reserved than the guffaws he and their brothers had when they found something particularly funny. He couldn't wait to brag to Jazz about it once it was safe to contact her. If it was safe to contact her.

"I'll see you in the morning," Danny said, leaning lightly against his brother's shoulder in lieu of a hug. He floated over to the door. "Goodnight, Dami."

"Sleep well, Danny."

~~•○•~~

Vlad Masters gnashed his teeth while he stared at the computer screen in his office. First Daniel up and disappeared without so much as a word, and now he was all over the news and tabloids as the newly adopted "Daniel Fenton-Wayne." He was annoyed. He was furious! He was… confused. What had that fool Jack done to get Daniel taken away? Why hadn't Maddie stopped it? How did Daniel end up getting legally adopted by Bruce Wayne of all people? The boy should have come right to him if something was wrong. He deserved it! The boy was his or he was no one's!

The man swatted the mug off his desk. It shattered against the wall.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Dungeon: To Split the Mountain Wide

Renowned for it's beauty and magical reactivity, Thaliasite is a valuable mineral said to spring up where the tears of a sky goddess soak into the earth. When deposits are found, they're quickly mined to exhaustion.

Taking a gamble on of one of these near abandoned claims, a somewhat reckless alchemist has attempted to promote the growth of new crystal through an experimental process involving the channelling of elemental energies and a bit of bastardized geomancy which miraculously resulted in the growth of new crystals and the reopening of the mine.

Some weeks later however and it appears the process has worked too well as the slow initial recovery has given way to explosive new growth; splitting the mountain wide open and trapping several crews of workers in the depths of the mine. The party has been called in after rescue attempts were halted by rogue elementals, as well as attacks by grell from the nearby wastes drawn in by the arcane energies.

Adventure Hooks:

Need a quick starter for a badlands campaign? Have the party be made up of miners/locals from the nearby settlement who's livelihood depends on the reopened mine. No better team building exercise then rescuing innocents from a magically and structurally unstable cave system liable to cave in/explode at any moment.

This literal explosion of valuable material is going to have far reaching consequences, turning the little mining village into a boomtown over the next few months. This will bring all kinds of fortuneseekers, outlaws, and wandering mages out of the woodwork, to say nothing of the more otherworldly entities that will blow in on the wind.

While you could chalk the disaster up to the usual unreliability of alchemical experimentation, a party that digs around a little deeper and keeps a wary eye out may discover a conspiracy by the mineral combine that once owned the depleted mine. The ability to produce Thaliasite could be an economic gamechanger, and the combine is not above engineering a little accident if it means not only reclaiming their former property but also buying out the disgraced alchemist's formulas. If the party finds them out, the combine might just be willing to cut them in for a percentage, maybe make them overseers in their newly revitalized enterprise.

One of the miners the party ends up rescuing is a woman half conscious after getting caught in the shrapnel from the Thaliasite's explosive growth. After some weeks of recovery she rises from her sickbed and begins after asking the party. Apparently having shards of divinely attuned crystal stuck in her greymatter has gotten her in touch with the goddess, who uses her impromptu oracle to tell the party of a trial awaiting them in the near future.

Art 1

Art 2

[asharaks]

minrathous-treviso choice: part one

The choice to save either Minrathous or Treviso, knowing that the other will suffer without your intervention, is actually Great; it’s a strong, bold move that establishes a sense of urgency and the scale of the threat you’re facing, with lasting consequences both for the settings and the companions tied to them. That said. The vision for Minrathous vs Treviso is this: 

First of all there’s a warning before you take the quest that will trigger this plot on completion, telling you to go back and finish everything you want to before taking it because some quests and progression may be unavailable afterwards. Also, tying Davrin’s recruitment to this choice is a mistake — he’s the only Black companion in a game with a pretty racist player base, and a situation in which you Can’t recruit him until you’ve advanced significantly with three other companions disadvantages him further as a companion. Also, he’s a warrior, and the early game doesn’t have any warriors. So instead, Davrin is recruited early (you seek out a Warden as soon as you realise you’re dealing with Blight!), and given a few quests to clear up in the Wetlands, and Harding’s (re-)recruitment is moved back to trigger this scene — she’s an associate of yours who was out gathering information during the early portion of the game, and she’s run into trouble. As a fan favourite returning character, she comes into the game with goodwill that levels the playing field between her and the early game companions, and as a rogue she isn’t mechanically indispensable until her recruitment on higher difficulties since Lucanis is also recruited early. 

When you return with Harding, Lucanis’s and Neve’s calls for help in their hometowns play out as normal, but in deciding where you go, two things are emphasised: 1) you’re splitting up your team of six into equal teams. The choice is not to Only Save One, but to decide who goes where, and which team you place yourself on; and 2) you bear the responsibility for this choice and how it shakes out, moreso than Lucanis and Neve who each insist on protecting their homes, because in Varric’s absence (more on this later) you are the leader, and your team does what You say. The overwhelming nature of the choice is emphasised; there is no way to distribute resources such that everyone is perfectly covered. There’s just too much. 

The key to the choice is that both cities are complicated, often brutally hostile places marked deeply by inequality and oppressive rule, and both cities are the homes of millions of people. As a shadow dragon or a crow, do you have a responsibility to your home town; as the leader of the veilguard, is it fair to place that responsibility over your responsibility to protect All of Thedas against the blighted gods? Is it fair, as someone unattached to either place, to decide on the toss of a coin which millions will suffer and die? At this point, you’ve taken quests in both places, fighting slavers, cultists and magisters in Minrathous and navigating fractured crow rulership, unrest among fledgelings, and the encroachment of the Chantry in Treviso. The cities parallel each other and the problems facing other locations; complicated homes, where people lead complicated lives, towards which any rook can have complicated feelings. 

The quests themselves still each have their blighted dragon, which is still unbeatable here as it flies away at half damage, but they aren’t commanded by their gods — the gods are almost trailing in their wake, Elgar’nan in Minrathous and Ghilain’nan in Treviso. They can be seen here for the first time, enormous, awe-inspiring, and undeniably in blinding agony, infected all the way through with blight. you can’t interact with the gods at all, they don’t even register your presence. But once the dragon fight is over, your work isn’t done — there are longer, more involved quests to finish. In Minrathous the Venatori have staged a coup and the templars have been mobilised en masse to take them; if you don’t intervene, then the city will either fall to the venatori or to the draconian measures they give the magisterium plausible justification to enforce. You have to help Neve and the Dragons shepherd panicking civilians to safety within the Shadow Dragon sanctum (or make it a choice: do you send them to a less secure location and keep the Shadow Dragons secret? or do you guarantee their protection but make the Dragons vulnerable?), destroy Venatori, provide aid for Dorian and Mae in the inner city. In Treviso, the mass outbreak of Blight has pushed the Chantry and the Crows into open conflict, and the city is threatened by Blight and by violence if you don’t get it under control. You have to close locks in the drowned district to contain the Blight in the canals, while fighting back darkspawn and ghouls; help civilians to safety either in ambassadorial buildings, turning to the Qunari presence for help, or in the chantry, which is markedly easier but results in turmoil and distrust in Qunari presence down the line. You find the dagger obtained at the ritual site instrumental in warding off the Blighted dragons and their gods; this is why Rook’s presence is the deciding factor in the outcome for each city.

(next - minrathous-treviso choice part two)

(previous - minrathous)