#{ The Rebirthed Youngest Sister }

[twoafflictedsouls]

" . . . . . Hi. "

" .... Hi. "

The twins don't mean you any harm not at all they lack any characteristics of the other offsprings. Not only that but also they're truly perfect replicas of the original sisters but it's best to be cautious, not of them but their other family members.

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 6: Awaken. Remember. Live.

Summary: In the wake of Rhysand’s ascension as High Lord, the Bone Carver gifts a prophecy. More than five hundred years later, Azriel continues to wait for the one who is finally reborn as his High Lady’s sister. All it takes a dip in the Cauldron for things to start falling into place.

Chapter Summary: The mortal queens are bitches. Rhysand requests to speak with Nyra. Azriel befriends the twins. The sisters are Made.

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

****

The meeting with those godforsaken queens made Nesta feel like stomping all over them. She wanted to strangle, stab and slap them at the same time. They were willing to let innocents die in the name of a necessary sacrifice or some horseshit.

Nesta felt too much anger, too much pain, too much grief at what fate awaited the people here. Their servants did not live that far away and could be called back immediately. But she would not call them. If anyone were to be endangered because she had allowed fae to come to their residence and use it as a venue for the meetings?

In total five fae had visited. Feyre, Rhysand, Azriel, Morrigan and... She did not allow herself to think of the last one. Did not allow herself to think of that one moment of proximity she had shared with him.

Nesta had watched Elain curse the queens to hell. Watched Nyra's gaze turn cold and colder as the queens spout their nonsense. Feyre was drained of hope. And what did she feel? She felt everything and nothing. Nesta knew that Elain would likely ignore those queens if she were to meet them again but Nyra? What would Nyra do? The way she had seen the fury rise was something she had seen only once.

She laid a hand on her twin's shoulder. Nyra looked back, unflinchingly. The twins continued to stare at each other before Nyra closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. The shadows surrounding her skirts gently swam upwards and caressed her hand. Nyra looked at them and opened her palm for them.

"Things have escalated beyond the scope of my family's safety. I expect you to keep your word." Nesta turned to Rhysand. The High Lord of Night simply nodded. He had already arranged for their protection from the moment they first visited.

The shadows were caressing Nyra's hands. Azriel's older shadows were now here and they had immediately joined the newborns but Nyra barely responded. She did not move her fingers in response to their playful touches. That upset the shadows. Azriel continued watching them even as he was engrossed in discussion with Rhysand and Cassian regarding their next course of action.

The twins remained quiet for a few seconds before Elain walked over and sat on the carpet right next to Nesta’s legs and laid her head on her lap. The sisters sat there solemnly, lost in their worlds. Their beauty was painful. One of them, ready to mourn the anticipated losses. One of them, forcing herself to accept everything. And one of them, lost in a world far beyond.

Feyre now felt separated. In appearance and name, she was one of them and yet, she was not. She was now fae and she was once human. For the first time since her rebirth, she despised the immortality that separated her from her sisters. 

Through a bond partially unknown to the youngest Archeron, Rhysand felt her. He watched his mate and her sisters. 

“Feyre.” At the call of her name, she looked and found her sisters watching her curiously. Nesta had been the one to call her. 

“Come. Join us.” Nesta invited. Feyre blinked back a tear. Elain wordlessly extended an arm to her. The fourth sister walked over and took her sister’s arm. She sat down on the floor next to Elain, right in front of Nyra’s legs. She placed her head on her older sister’s lap and felt a hand on her head. 

“Is anyone even ready for what is going to happen?” Elain asked. Worry was all over her. In her voice, her expressions, her entire body. 

“No.” Nesta’s answer was a reminder of reality. 

“They’ll hurt you.” Elain reached a hand out and took Feyre’s hand in her own. Tears pooled in their eyes.

“They’ll kill me.” Feyre answered with the same bluntness she had picked up from Nesta. 

“Which is what we want to prevent.” Rhys spoke, unable to hold back from speaking. The sisters felt too hopeless but they did not accept anything. They did not accept the possibility of Feyre being hunted for her power, for the destruction that loomed over the mortal lands, the death that awaited Nyra if she couldn't recover and her illness consumed her completely. 

Nothing. 

“And if it can’t be prevented?” Nyra finally asked. She looked away from the window and met the High Lord’s gaze. “What of my sisters if this war can’t be prevented?” Nesta sharply turned her head to her twin. 

“Your sisters will be protected. As will you. No harm shall befall any of you.”

“Can you promise that?” Nyra challenged, remembering what promises meant to fae.

“I promise all my power, all my resources, to protecting the four of you. Even at the cost of my life.” A tattoo bloomed in the palm of Nyra’s right hand. A small star right where the thumb and index finger met. The shadows played with her hand as she inspected the tattoo.

"I am asking if you can promise my sisters' safety." Rhys had no answer to that. And hope died a quick death. It left behind nothing. And everything felt like it had never even been there. Nyra resumed looking outside the window. Winter was cruel.

"Nyra." Feyre looked up at her sister who was still staring at the world outside the window."We're leaving now." Nyra hummed. She kept patting her sister's head but did not meet her gaze. "I'll come visit whenever I can."

Feyre's last statement was reserved for a future with no war. But if there wasn't any possibility of war, would she have ever visited? The answer was easily no. So why would she deign to visit after the war ends. Would there be anything left here for her to visit? Maybe. Maybe not. The book they sought was now in their possession.

Rhysand adjusted his jacket and swallowed. He brushed off some non-existent lint and walked forward. "I would like to speak to you, Nyra."

The sisters looked up from where they sat. Rhysand's tall figure stood a couple of feet away from them but it did not hover over them.

"Alone." He added. Nyra nodded and patted Feyre's head thrice. Her youngest sister removed her head from her lap and stood up.

Nyra led Rhysand to her father's office. Nesta, Azriel and Cassian followed. Nyra and Rhysand entered the office and closed the door behind them. Azriel and Cassian flanked the sides of the closed door, guarding it from interruptions. Nesta leaned on the wall opposite to the door with her eyes closed and arms crossed.

****

"You wish to speak to me?” Nyra asked. She motioned a hand to the armchair before her as an offer for him to sit. But Rhysand kneeled before her. Nyra blinked once and then asked. “What is this about?”

“I understand that there’s a tradition of speaking to the female’s relatives in the mortal lands.” Rhysand sounded uncharacteristically nervous. And he was. This was the sister Feyre spoke with endless love and tenderness. The sister who had guarded his dear mate’s heart. 

“Does it really require you to kneel? I’m sure taking a seat won’t be-"

“I ask for your blessings, as Feyre’s older sister, for when I propose marriage.” Rhys’s interruption had silenced Nyra.

“I wish to walk by her side this life. To love her through all of it. Through happiness and misery. Through riches and poverty. With all my power, blood, body, mind and soul that I am, I wish to be hers, if she’ll have me.” 

The High Lord of the Night Court now dipped his head. “I plan to propose to her once she has completely settled in this new life as fae and once I am certain she bears affections for me. If she ever loves me and if we ever have a chance at a union, I hope you can bless it wherever you will be then.” 

Nyra knew what that meant when he said wherever she would be. Even if she were no longer alive, he wanted her blessing. 

“You are a High Lord. You have greater priorities than a marriage with my sister who is still unaware of your feelings.” 

None greater than my mate. She heard his voice but he was not speaking. Nyra was now confused. I can speak to you mind to mind. It is a rare ability among my kind. Those who wield it are called daemati.

“What’s a mate?” And Rhysand explained the entire concept of mates to her. He was honest about real life examples of mates including his parents and the miserable union his mother had endured. And how he hoped that Feyre and he could be happy with each other. 

“What if she does not fall in love with you? Or what if she has a change of heart even if she does fall in love with you?” Both of them knew very well what had happened between Feyre and Tamlin. A repetition was not acceptable.

“I will let her go. She will have everything to lead her life as she pleases regardless of whether she returns my affections or has a change of heart after being with me.” 

“Cassian told me that the fae are bound by their promises.” She looked at the small star in her palm that had appeared mere minutes ago.

“I shall make you as many promises as you require of me.” The stars in his eyes were blinking now.

“To love her. To cherish her. To help her when she needs it. And to let go if she wants it. To never hurt her. Promise it, Rhysand. All of it.” She walked forward and stopped right in front of him.

“I promise.” He took her hand and looked up at her face. Even with his teary gaze, he could see the silent tears trailing down Nyra’s eyes. “I will love Feyre Archeron with all that I am, body, mind, power and soul. I will help her when she needs it. I will let her go peacefully without a fight if she chooses to leave me. I will not hurt her in any manner even if she does accept me and then has a change of heart. If by any chance, she does accept me and chooses to be with me, I will care for her. I promise that she will never want for anything so long as I can do anything about it. I will protect her and value her life above my own at all times. I will never consider her inferior to me, only my equal and above. She will not be sidelined as a wife or a consort. She will rule beside me as my equal in the Night Court. This is my promise to you, Nyra Archeron.” 

And with that, a tattoo bloomed in the palms of their respective hands which were connected. Nyra felt a tingling sensation and turned her hand to see it. She turned his own hand and saw the identical tattoos bloom. It was a crescent moon and a single star formed in the space where the remaining part of the moon should have been to be a full one. She looked at his face with a questioning glance.

“Promises among the fae are evidenced by tattoos.” Rhys’s words still held a glimmer of hope that reflected in the stars in his eyes. “I promise to accept whatever punishment you deem fit for me should I break any of my promises to you.” Another tattoo for another promise but this time, the new tattoo was like a continuation of the old one. The borders of the crescent moon were now lined with small flowers and smaller leaves. 

In Nyra’s absence, the tattoo would burn him like all tattoos did when bargains were broken. During her lifetime, she would choose his punishment. 

“You have my blessing so as long as you keep your word.” Nyra nodded at him. He turned their hands, now hiding their palms. Rhys kissed the back of Nyra’s hand with tears flowing down his cheeks freely. 

“Thank you.” He whispered. He repeated it so many times, completely consumed by Nyra’s acceptance of a union with Feyre, if it ever happened. Nyra stood up, placed her hands on his shoulders. She gently led him to stand up and take a seat next to her in the armchair which she had initially offered for a seat. 

From outside the room, Azriel and Cassian flanked the doors like guards. They heard every single word and tears formed in their eyes. They shared a single glance and looked away. Cassian lifted a hand to press his thumb and forefinger to his eyes. He lifted his chin to avoid the tears from spilling. Azriel simply willed himself to remain stoic. And even then the shadows did not stop telling him about Nyra's tears.

Nesta, who had been standing in front of the door, had heard everything. She gave no reaction and simply turned and walked away. She did not mind that Rhysand had asked Nyra about this and not her. She was not worthy anyway. As someone who did nothing but let her anger consumer her, she was unworthy. She was nothing.

****

“She's never going to return.” Elain remarked as they stared at the spot from where the fae had disappeared.

“She won’t. Fae are not welcome in the mortal lands.” Nesta answered quietly.

She thought of Rhysand who was in love with Feyre. If Feyre did ever accept Rhysand as a lover, she would definitely not return. He was someone who wielded power and influence. He was polite to them only because they were related to the woman he loved. His only obligation other than the relation was the threat the war posed to the lands he ruled.

For his people, Rhysand would fight, beg, and bow. He would kill and be killed, do and endure worse. Nesta felt like Rhys might have already gone through all of that if he had been High Lord for over five centuries.

Nesta looked at Nyra who looked at the sky from the closed window. Elain had returned to her room and had informed them that she would join them for preparing lunch at noon. That would be three hours. Nesta resolved to read another novel to distract herself. Her mind was a whirlpool but her thoughts could not swim. Everything was happening, all at once. She did not want to drown in the water. Amidst her desire, she had become the fire that burned cold.

Her twin had yet to recover completely. Nyra had a life to live. Like Elain, she had to live, laugh, and love. Elain had found someone to love, the evidence of it resting on the ring finger of her left hand. Nyra too deserved a life. Nesta did not. She did not deserve to be loved.

Love was a luxury Nesta did not deserve but her sisters loved her. Her twin, the younger one she protected and the youngest whom she tried to hate with all of her being. And she felt a spark of it just recently. Nesta walked away and ascended the stairs, hoping the movement would remove old thoughts and replace it with new ones.

When Nesta reached Elain’s room, she could hear the sobs before she knocked. Her hand halted and she hesitated more as the sobs continued. She retreated as quietly as possible and headed to her bedroom.

The doors opened and her grand bedroom revealed itself. It was a splash of burgundy curtains, brick red sheets with ochre pillows and cushions. She preferred gold over the silver that Nyra preferred. Red, however, sang to her. And she tossed a few logs into the fireplace and lit it. The glow of the flames brought out the spirit of the room and its occupant.

She turned at the sound of a single knock on the door which was Nyra’s preferred pattern of knocking. “Come in!” Her twin entered the room, the golden glow of the flames colouring her as she approached Nesta by the fireplace.

And the sisters did not speak, but revelled in the silence for hours to Elain came by and reminded them of lunch.

****

The days passed by. Previously, the monotony that was only interrupted when either Cassian or Azriel visited. Cassian had stopped visiting after his banter with Nesta had once escalated to the point where she had banished him from setting foot into the estate unless it was to meet the queens. But now, the meetings with the queens had come to pass. Their fae guests had gotten their hands on whatever they sought. There was no more communication from them.

A gentle tap on her window late in the night has Nyra looking outside. Nesta walked over and opened the window. For a moment, she was convinced it was just the wind but she looked back instantly to find Azriel materialising from the shadows next to Nyra’s bed. Nesta closed the window and walked over. The two of them sat down on the chairs near the bed.

“No news from the queens.” Nesta began. It was a disappointing update. Azriel nodded at her once.

“How are things otherwise?” He asked kindly. He was probably referring to her health but Nyra did not ignore the possibility of him asking it in a general sense.

“Things are as dull as they can be.” Nyra replied, the dullness she mentioned lacing her voice.

“I hear the two of you have reading habits.” He lifted a palm and the shadows brought a neatly wrapped package. Azriel gently set it on the bedside table. He wasn’t sure why he bought them but he didn’t like the idea of revisiting for the first time alone just like that. “They are novels from our world.”

Nesta couldn’t accept the world of the fae but Azriel was the most polite and well mannered of the bunch. She nodded with a hum. Nyra took the package eagerly and began unwrapping it. When she couldn’t get it right after a point of time, she frowned and ripped the package. Azriel chuckled at the enthusiasm. The three books lay on the blankets above her lap. Hardcover with a carefully intricate design drawn over it. Nyra beamed at him with a smile and his gaze softened.

Nesta saw the exchange and knew that they might talk about those novels at some point once the sisters had read them. And it would have been fine. Anything would be accepted as a topic of conversation except the hopeless news from the queens. Conversation with Azriel had been surprisingly easier. Conversation with Cassian was either a headache or a challenge or both.

Nesta knew that she missed Cassian. Because she was actually starting to look forward to their banters. Despite her declaration of banishment, Cassian would visit whenever he claimed Azriel was busy. She knew he liked their interactions. She also knew that Nyra was starting to like the fae. That her dear twin had started enjoying Azriel and Cassian’s company. Nesta had watched as Cassian and Nyra joke around each other. And Azriel and Nyra had discussed books and histories of their kind and a friendship had bloomed between them.

“The Treaty between the fae and the humans was a headache.” Azriel sighed. Nyra raised a curious eyebrow. “Rhys was healing, so he wasn’t there. Cassian and Mor attended on our behalf and I was travelling around the Night Court.”

“And this was around the time Rhys became High Lord?” Azriel nodded his head at Nyra’s question.

“We barely have any records here in our side of the world.” There it was. The stark reminder that they were from different worlds and that even this odd story of friendship would be a difficult thing to maintain. Maybe, someday in the future, Azriel would forget them. Feyre would forget ever having sisters white they would remember her their entire lives.

“Any information about anything that old is either word of mouth or anything passed down by families. Official records exist in the archives of the mortal queens but that remains unavailable to the common folk.”

Nyra watched him with lips slightly parted. Nesta knew at once something ridiculous was cooking inside her head. As smart as Nyra was, she could say the most outrageous things at times.

"I will never be able to digest the fact that you are so old." Nyra spoke. Azriel let out a snort and a small laugh. "Even our ancestors with the Archeron name would not have been born five centuries ago and you were there. During the war, after it, and now. It's just..."

"Even the thought of it is inconceivable." Nesta spoke where Nyra trailed away. Azriel turned to her with a curiousity. "To have lived in what we refer to as the past and to stand before our eyes as though you have not aged."

"We haven't aged since we were thirty. That's when fae are considered to be completely adults." Azriel explained. He did not dwell on the details of how Illyrians aged and how it differed from others.

It had been almost a month since the mortal Archerons saw anyone from the Night Court. And the sisters were not ashamed to admit that they missed their company. Not only had they lost their sister to immortality but also new friends. Nesta would never consider the fae her friends but Nyra would. She had befriended Azriel and Cassian and even Rhysand to an extent. Even Elain had been a part of their conversations with Morrigan bringing tea for them. But with the war to prepare for, nobody visited. And they remained confined to their estate.

****

A sweet voice kept calling out to her. By her name. Over and over again. In the depths of what seemed like the abyss, the bright silhouette of a female called out to her.

“Nyra.” She had never heard a more melodious voice. Soothing and calm. Something so different from what she had experienced so far. Drastically so.

“Awaken.” The voice whispered. “Remember.” It felt like somebody was holding their hand. That hand was soft, their grip gentle. Slowly, Nyra felt herself be tugged forward. She did not know whether she was standing or floating or flying but she somehow followed that tug. "Live."

An entire life flashed before her eyes. Birth. Childhood. Adolescence. Adulthood. Age. And finally, death. Parents, siblings, friends, love. It felt like a story unwrap itself before her eyes. She soaked in every detail before she realised what exactly was happening. A life was showing itself.

And she would remember. Stories long forgotten and unrecorded because it belonged to someone who did not win. To someone who had not made their mark in history. The resolve to make that mark. A footprint to be recorded in history books. To become a winner because winners write history. Winners are remembered.

The next life came forth. The next book opened. Chapter one, two, three, four and till the end of the book.

Some lives felt like watching a mural. Some felt like novels. Some felt like dreams. Some felt like something else. And she wanted to see. After being confined in the house for so long, Nyra Archeron wanted to live. And so she opened everything.

“Slowly, my child.” The voice whispered. “Everything is yours.”

Nesta Archeron had drowned in the Cauldron promising death to the King. The King watched warily as she walked towards her Cauldron Made sister. She pushed Lucien away and took Elain in her arms and looked around. And then at the King and roared. “Where’s she?” Her eyes blazed with the promise of death. Everything would end at her hands.

Nyra Archeron had yet to rise from the Cauldron. The King looked at the Cauldron and signalled two of his soldiers to pull the last sister. The twins were pushed in together after Elain. The trembling fawn and the fanged beast had risen. And now, the chirping of a thousand birds sounded across the room. The two soldiers who were supposed to pull Nyra out screamed in pain and fell to the ground as though they were puppets and their strings had been cut.

Azriel looked up, his blurry vision allowing him to see only silhouettes and the bright light of the electricity that had resulted in someone screaming. His younger shadows kept screaming at him to go. To drag himself to the Cauldron even if it was his corpse. He followed that call. He felt calm which was odd. Cassian’s wings were shredded. Tamlin turned out to be a traitor and Lucien was the middle sister's mate. Nesta was angry. Rhysand and Feyre risked losing each other. Mor had been frozen by her fear. And Az continued to crawl to the Cauldron. His older shadows had abandoned him already, moving to the Cauldron faster than he could.

All the light from across the world flowed into the Cauldron in strands and cords. Light of different colours. All the white and the gold and the red and the blue and the green and so many colours flowed in. And his shadows followed a song clearer than Azriel’s had ever been. He was too weak to rein them in and the shadows emerged with the new fae from the Cauldron. A wave of calm and peace washed over. So different from Nesta’s deathly presence. The shadows helped Nyra exit the Cauldron.

Just as she exited the Cauldron, it rose mid-air. The Cauldron tipped and the liquid from it fell on Nyra, bathing her in whatever essence it deigned to grant her. A while later, it stopped and settled back where it initially was. Nyra's eyes were closed and the shadows were carrying her out and they laid her next to the shadowsinger.

Azriel had never felt so at peace right then. With his shadows and with this female lying next to him. And soon, there was a faint tune. It became clearer and louder. An ancient song thrummed within him and the shadows led him to her. There was nothing more important, nothing more beautiful, nothing more stronger than this moment. Even with that hole in his chest from Jurian’s spear, he felt his heart fill to the brim with relief.

Azriel fell asleep, feeling peaceful at the sight of her. Nyra was drenched and unconscious but he was already fainting. He did not realise it when his hand had taken hers. And if he were to die then and there, he would die peacefully. Did not feel when Mor winnowed him back to Velaris and had started healing him. All he felt was his mate and their bond. He was home.

****

TAGLIST:

@waytoomanyteenagefeels@impossibelle@esposadomd@starswholistenanddreamsanswered@judig92@bunnyredgirl@sh4nn@a-frog-with-a-laptop@kattzillaa@ronnieglennn@wallacewillow0773638@forgiveliv@justdreamstars@donttellthecats@cat-or-kitten@jojodojo02@wandas-dream@evylynny@weasleyreidstyles@stqrgirlies-blog@why4anne@acourtofdreamsandshadows @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe@macimads@footyandformula @noelli-smv @mqlfoyelf @thehighlordishere @slytherintaco @spideytingley

[elamimax]

Alright, here's my theory on what the new Shadow of the Erdtree DLC tells us about Elden Ring and its lore. I'm probably off on a few things, but let's go:

Long ago, the Crucible was a current of energy that flowed through the world and brought death and rebirth. It flows circularly, spiraling, the dead and the living being reborn into one another (we know by now that the Crucible, unlike the Erdtree, was not a single place, after all). This energy was considered divine by many people, including the Hornsent, a pantheistic religious order that saw divinity in the melding of flesh, and would take shamans and force them to meld to achieve sainthood.

They did so by spiriting them away, branding a seal into them, and forcing them into jars until their flesh melded together. After all, "the flesh of shamans was said to meld harmoniously with others." The thing is that the hornsent were right. The shamans were divine, as they were graced with gold.

One such shaman, from a Numen village in the Shadow Lands, escaped that grim fate. Salvaging that divinity from her fallen kin, she ascended the Divine Gate and drew the attention of the Greater Will, who had sown the grace of gold across the Lands Between, and invited it into her. Seeking to ensure that nothing so horrific would ever happen again, Queen Marika founded the Golden Order.

Her firstborn was seduced by an outer god, The One Eyed God, and born with curse like her other children, so she gave him her Scarseal for an eye so that he would retain use of his faculties and she could seal away the worse of his curses, and for her, her burned the Shadow Lands, ensuring that what happened to her kin would never happen again. It was without grace or honour, but out of spite, and vengeance, and fear.

Miquella, Marika's youngest, was cursed three times. He was cursed with eternal youth, though I suspect that he died and was reborn young several times over, shown by the fact that he was quite small when he was absconded with by Mohg but the corpse we find in Mohgwyn palace is massive.

His second curse was that of love. Whether bestowed on him by his parents, the greater will, or chance itself, I don't know, but all who laid eyes on him loved him, and it made him callous. All loved him which, of course, meant that love was valueless. He could steal hearts at a whim, his rune so strong that it enchanted those who laid eyes on it. It was not, of course, enough. He desired a world of peace, of calm, of love, of tranquility, and realized that, as an eternal, beloved child, as an Empyrean of the Greater Will, he would never be able to make that happen.

So, he began the arduous process of dismantling himself, divesting himself first from his body, then his fear and finally, his love, traveling to the Shadow Lands, a land now removed from the Lands Between by his mother's veil, where he knew the currents of the Crucible were strong and he could live without a body, waiting for a consort.

Because Miquella was thrice cursed, and his curse of love was also the same "curse" his mother suffered: his other half lived within himself, and he - or rather she - would travel the world and offer sleep to the sleepless and comfort to the dying, as Saint Trina. By divesting himself of his love, he divested himself of Saint Trina, hardening himself for what would need to be done.

He would need a warrior. His sister was not up to the task. She loved him but she was not capable of being a warlord, her own curse of Rot slowly eating away at her. No, he set his sights on Radahn, greatest warrior of the Golden Order. Radahn refused. So Miquella whispered a request into his sister's ear and she obliged. Radahn reduced to a shadow of his former self, to be slain by lowly tarnished. He didn't need Radahn's body. Only his soul. As for a body...

Miquella's love reached far, and so too did it reach the Luminary Mohg, a man who longed to live up to the promise of dynasty that was his birthright, but who was also a calm, quiet man who sought to inspire others.

Miquella's demands, his love, broke something in Mohg. Forced him into an obsession with the formless mother. Into an obsession with bloodlines and, eventually, blood, something those who followed him have not and never will forgive Miquella for. And Mohg served his purpose: as a corpse, if nothing else.

When Mohg died, Miquella's chosen dragged his body to the Divine Gate where his mother had become Queen Marika so long ago, and used the power there to forge Mohg's body in the Crucible, so that Radahn may be the warrior he had always been, but pliable this time, Mohg's power over blood now merged with Radahn's gravitational prowess. Usable. In the same way that Miquella's mother had used Godfrey, he would use Radahn, slaughtering any and all who opposed his Thousand Year Journey Of Compassion, until such time as he had no more need for such a consort. So, when finally his Consort was "rebuilt", Miquella, divested of his body, his fear and his love, stepped out of the Divine Gate, to protect him.

He failed.

[empressgeekt]

batfam meets the justice league fic idea, where Nightwing convinces the JL that the batfam is the last of the race Gotham bat demons...

made on moble so sorry in advance.

Okay so it starts with Batwoman and Nightwing hanging around the watchtower. Eventually someone (most likely either hal or barry) asks how they are related to batman. Batwoman claims to be his sister, and Nightwing obviously says he's his son. When the question of who Nightwing's mom comes up (along with some of the league thinking that Nightwing was an accident, cause they can't see bats settling down), Batwoman simply says, "he doesn't have one."

The convo sudden shifts to the topic of the 'history' and 'biology' of the bat demon race. How they were nearly eradicated by a war with the Amazon's, and Atlantis, only a few really surviving and finding refuge in the caves below Gotham. Hwo they used ancient forgotten magic to remove all memories of this 'war' to keep themselves save. And finally how they reproduce asexually, by reviving the souls of children who were wrongfully killed. Taking the weak dead spirit and carrying them in their own soul until it could put itself back together.

When asked if this was how Nightwing was born, they confirm it.

BW: oh yeah. Actually 'wing was kind of a surprise you could say.

Hal: surprise?

N: YEP! You see I was kinda of dad's first so he really didn't know what he was doing...

BW: and it ended with bossy big brother screaming his head off in an emergence of a batling that he didn't know he was carrying.

Barry: screaming his head off?

N: oh...well the process of soul splitting, emergence, rebirth, whatever you want to call it, includes the host's soul breaking down enough to allow the younger newly revived soul to detach. It's very painful, So I've heard.

BW; so you've heard? Kid please I know you've heard your father when it came to your siblings rebirth.

Needless to say everyone (especially hal and barry), look at Batman the same way for the next few days.

when Bruce confronts his son and cousin, he honestly can't say he hates the idea. UT would throw off any suspicions sound hus true identity. Not mention give him a new way to mess with hal.

The rest of the batfam (let's say standard webcomic cast, with Terry and Matty McGinnis [time traveled/dimensionhopped], along with flashpoint!batman, because they deserve to be in the safe place rhay is the batfam too, for funies), also find this cover story hilarious, and spend all of dinner adding to the bat-demon mythos.

Thomas would've been the last surviving member of the demon army, who retreated and sought refuge in Gotham, along with his human turned immortal companion of Alfred. Bruce, Kate, and Luke (batwing) would his 'children'.

The normal children would all still be Bruce's. Inculding spoiler, as why she claims she isn't Bruce's daughter, she isn't passing up the chance to mess with the JL.

Eventually the idea gets suggested that they should trick the JL into believing that Batman is pregnant with a new batling. The prank idea slowly snowballs from there and Bruce is unable to stop it. So he agrees to join in, ans rhe prank planninf begins. Matty immediately volunteers to be the new batling, because he technically the youngest and doesn't have a vigilante alter ego yet.

The prank starts out slow. Batwoman and Nightwing increase their visits to the watchtower? Specially when batman is there and they are usually in the same room as him.

Bruce pretends to be more tired often, even pretending to take a nap, where the JL can find him. He also fakes head aches.

Eventually Clark asks him if he's alright. And Nightwing responds with

N: of course he's not. He's working too hard.

B: Nightwing...

N: there's a reason me and aunt BW following you, and it's so you don't over do it!

B: nightwing...

N: even grandfather is worried.

B: Nightwing. I have been through this 8 times already. I think I know my limits. Besides your grandfather has always been worried over the thought of a new spawn in the house.

Clark: !!!!

Once more things around batman grow awkward for the next few weeks.

The end of the fic would be the JL visiting the "bat domain" to meet Matty dressed up in a mask and brightly colored suit. And finding out about the literal small army that batman's been building. Not to mention cameo of Thomas in his bat suit scaring the living crap out if the justice league, and having the time of his life.

Edit: Alright its official, this is going to be my holiday special for this year. So, around Christmas time I'll post a link so yall can read this.

Edit 2: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51963331/chapters/131402920

Happy holidays! hears and early present!

[iphoenixrising]

Something God/Messanger of the Gods/WhattheFuckEvenIsThis, HowIsThisMyLife au

I refuse to lie about it. This? Totally got the idea from a yaoi. 

**

From the Heavens, the Father of the Gods looks into the seeing waters at the realm of mortals. The young man with a soft smile, raven black hair, and shockingly violet eyes draws Bruce’s sighs, his son long denied him.

A promise to the boy’s mother while she carried their halfling child, that he would allow their son twenty-one years on Earth to live among other mortals. Once he came of age in their world, then he could be told about the Gods and brought into his power.

The more his three other sons clashed nowadays, it’s become obvious the boy is sorely needed.

Alfred, his second-in-command of their heavenly armies, stands by his right hand, watches the boy smile at a customer and hand over warm beverages humans seem to enjoy.

“He is certainly your blood, Sire,” Alfred comments idly, wondering how the mortals could be so dense as to not see the blatant appeal of the boy behind the counter. His face, while handsome with his father’s strong jawline, is pale with otherworldly beauty. His eyes shine with peace at every person that steps up to speak with him.

“Indeed. It is finally time for him to come home and take part in his birthright, old friend.”

Alfred turns away from the half-God they’re observing, “it has been a long time coming, hasn’t it, Sire?”

For a moment, the Father of the Gods, the former Titan, Bruce, looks sadly at the boy, hands fisting on the edge of the seeing water’s cradle. Even stone here in the Heavens would crumble under his fists.

“It is beyond time, my old friend. It is time he comes home.”

**

He is back to sitting on the throne when his three sons answer his call.

Dick, his firstborn, the God of Rebirth and Renewal.

Jason, his second born, the God of the Underworld.

Damian, his youngest, the God of War.

When the three appear before the massive door to his throne room, their voices echoing, the surge of pride in them fills his chest to near overflowing. His sons all grown into Gods of valor and might.

“Damn, Goldie,” Jason teases, a salacious grin at his brother’s normal tight body suit perfectly outlining every salacious inch. He pinches the material between two fingers, a contrast to his sharp, black, three-piece suit and the Demon’s intricate armor. “Betcha get all hot n’ bothered when it’s time ta hunt, ya feel me?”

Dick just snorts at his younger brother, knocking his hand away to sweep the taller God up in both arms and hold him off the ground.

“I know that just means you missed me, Jay. We haven’t seen each other since that last fight in the Underworld, when those underlings tried to overthrow you. We made a great pair, remember?”

Damian removes his helm, rolling his eyes at the antics of his older siblings, tries to remember he is the bright one of the family. (Even though he would obviously say Barbara is the smartest and Cassandra the most fearsome.)

“Yeah, yeah. Good ta see ya, too. Now pum’me down.”

“Aw, you’re no fun anymore. Where’s the snarky little hellion I used to give noogies?”

“See, that’s what policin’ damned souls does ta ya, yeah?”

Grinning behind his hand at their bickering, the Father of the Gods stands from his throne, strides down the white and gold steps, waves a hand to open the massive gold doors to his throne room to take in each of his sons into his arms, warm to his core at how well each still fits into his embrace even all grown up.

“Not to worry,” Bruce interrupts their banter. “Your sisters will see to everything while you are gone.”

He has their attention, and sighs, palming the side of Dick’s face, ruffling the white streak in Jason’s hair, and finally rests a hand on the back of Damian’s neck.

“Gone?” Damian’s immediate reaction is suspicion because Father gives the utterly worst tasks. 

“Barbara can handle being the Goddess of the Elements. Cassandra will make a formidable Goddess of War, and Helena will… enjoy taking on Goddess of the Underworld.”

“Not likin’ th’ sound’a this,” Jay straightens, slides his fingers over the lapels of his suit, smoothes out the lines. 

“If this is anything like the last few adventures, Bruce, you can just send someone else–“ Because, yeah, Dick has other things to do than run all over the place on another crazy God hunt. 

No thanks.

But rather than use the usual methods to gain their agreement, their great Father instead… sighs.

“The truth, my sons, is that I have called you all here because this undertaking is of the utmost importance. I can trust only you three, no others.  But, more to the point, I don’t think any but all of you together can accomplish it in time.” And it’s jarring to see the Father of the Gods look sad, tired, worn in the way of mortals. “In many ways, I am…torn that you will learn the truth in this manner, but come! Let me show you instead.” He leads them to the viewing pool where Alfred stands idly watching. 

The younger Gods crowd around the delicate bowl seemingly grown from the floor, full of the prophetic waters, a gift from Barbara.

For Father to need them like this, a task only his first sons could accomplish, they’re all a bit breathless wondering what this could possibly be. 

“A mortal?” Dami sounds less insulted than surprised, staring into the image in the waters. “A mere mortal, Father? It takes thousands to wage a decent battle.”

A second glance when Jason’s eyes narrow, when Richard leans further over the waters, licking his lips, and Damian pauses, tilts his head to be certain he is not imagining it.

A blink, a glance at his enraptured brothers, and the gentle glow about the mortal man, the curve of his pink mouth in a welcoming smile, the vibrant blue-violet of his eyes, the curve of biceps and shoulders, the way he merely moves is –

Mesmerizing.

“He ain’t a mortal. Can’t be. N’ I’d know if he was one a’ mine masquaradin’ on Earth,” Jay leans his forearms down on the water’s vessel.  “I can letta demon be beautiful, don’t geddit wrong. But that sweet lil’ innocent is something else entirely, ya feel me?”

“But he’s in the mortal world,” Dick reasons, looking back at what he assumes is their next prey. “He functions like he belongs there,” he gestures to the man taking money from customers, talking with a soft grace, a kindness they can feel through the waters without hearing a word.

“He should not be,” Damian’s hands tighten on the vessel, delicate gold and white creaking with the strength of it. “Mortals cannot see what he is as we can. They could–“ cause him harm, take him, own him, almost leaves the God of War’s lips. He balks at that line of reasoning, but still, his mouth waters in anticipation, his eyes cannot look away.

The Father of the Gods nods sagely, a worn sigh raising his chest, “unfortunately, he has borne many burdens from living in the mortal world. Some that would have broken a lesser creature. But, as you can see, my sons, he remains steadfast.”

Dick hums, still watching as the mortal is now apparently taking a large stack of cups from a plastic sleeve and putting them back down on some kind of holder. Seemingly ordinary as they come, but if this is the subject of their father’s attention, there must be more than meets the eye. As the eldest, he’s very well aware of their Father’s tendencies for a good, dramatic quest.  

“As much as I enjoy watching him,” and that is no false statement, not with how beautiful and soft and sweet this mortal absolutely is, “what does he have to do with us?”

Their Father breathes in sharply, “the matter is…complicated. What I want you to do is bring him here before me. I wish to finally see him with my own eyes.”

All three of his sons straighten, yell out denials of such a thing.

“It would kill him!” Damian raises a fist.

“Ya know a mortal can’t take alla this,” Jay waves a hand in B’s general direction.

“It would be kinder to end him with one shot,” Dick’s tone is flat, but he unconsciously positions his body between the viewing vessel and his great, powerful Father.

And Bruce, under the angry eyes of his sons, looks away. “It’s true he is mortal, but… he is only half.“

And now the boy’s ethereal beauty, softly glowing aura, the very subtle allure is answered when his sons look back, and their want for him doubles.

(A halfling. A mixture of man and God that could be a spectrum of delectable creatures. Most were brought to the Amazons for safe keeping, as the eventual maturation into their power as a divine event would surely give them away to mortals and other less ethical Gods. In a word, a truly earth-shattering awakening.) 

“This is why I can only entrust what must be done to the three of you.” Bruce looks between them at his long-missing son, long separated from him, and back to his beautiful Godlings. He pulls at the strings he knows are connected, “Only another God can bring him into his power so he is strong enough to stand before me. But, he is…unique. A single God cannot do it alone, but the three of you together. You, my sons, may be strong enough to awaken him. As it is, I fear another could come upon him first…and possibly takes him for themselves.”

As he predicted, Jason’s eyes narrow, a deceptively casual flip of his fine suit coat. Damian’s mouth raises in an over my bleeding corpse sneer, hand hovering over his sheathed weapon. And Dick arches a brow at their Father, arms crossed over his bare chest. While he absolutely sees through his Father’s ploy, he can’t help the throb in his veins to hunt, catch, keep when he thinks about any of his fellow Gods or Goddesses coming upon this apparent halfling before they do.  

“All right, all right,” Jay flips a half-assed salute, “we getcha, B. Ain’t gotta be a manipulative asshole ‘bout it.”

Dick snickers because well, it isn’t a lie.

Their great Father shrugs a shoulder, “I’m giving you the evidence you need to understand how important this is, Jason. This halfling is…special. Even I do not know what power he may bring forth once it is his time to awaken. The water itself will show no further future for him,” and an arm gestures to the view of the mortal. 

All three of his sons noticeably perk. Nothing like a good mystery to reel them in.

**

It’s a totally normal, sane day. 

And you know what? That’s nice once and a while.

With the tips he got yesterday, he’s going to be able to make his rent on time and being, you know, not homeless really is a thing worth celebrating.

Steph hands him the next order, and the two of them move around one another behind the counter in that comfortable way when you work so well with someone, it’s like the two of you share a brain. 

When it gets busy in the evening close to closing time, they get a nice little rush of people to close out the night.

They’ve got ten minutes, but most the machines at καφές (or ka-feys) are already cleaned and ready for tomorrow morning’s shift. Steph is whistling behind the counter while she counts out the tip jar, smoothing out wrinkled bills and cashing out the change for more dollars.

“It never fails,” she bemoans while he wipes down the back counters, “we make bank any time you are front and center, Timmers.”

His face gets pink where she can’t see and he scoffs for appearances, “people like seeing you more than they like seeing me, you know.”

“The bouncy, energetic vibe doesn’t always do the trick. Apparently the boy-next-door Hallmark type really does.”

He turns, clearly offended here because he works out when he can, was a gymnast in high school and everything!

He’s not a Hallmark throwback, fuck you very much.

“This is why I hate you.”

“Lies. You love me,” she makes kissy noises while he rings out the bleach rag and carries the bucket back to empty in the kitchen sink. 

Toss of the day rag in the dirty bin, wash up a few remaining dishes while he hums to himself, stoked about having enough in tips to splurge for a pizza with some left to go into savings for the someday when he can go back and finish college.

He thinks about his lonely little apartment buried in a tenement building a few blocks away in the infamous big city. Just one more sad story in a building of sad stories trying to make the next day count. 

If anyone had asked him five years ago where he’d be on his twenty-first birthday, this probably wouldn’t have been the answer.

The bell chimes with incoming, and he groans to himself as he’s on way through the swinging door, wondering which machine he’s going to have to dirty up to make whatever this asshole–

(The three men at his counter immediately zoom in on him, three sets of incredible eyes make him pause a moment, and luckily not melt into a proverbial puddle on the floor because this trio of man sandwich? Are the most breathtaking men he’s ever seen outside of a magazine, movie, or tasteful porn. He finds his heart picking up, beating harder in his chest, his face getting warm, his mouth watering when a quick mental flash of clothes on his bedroom floor is just the birthday gift he’s been waiting for.)

-wants.

Tim puts on his best how can I help you smile with his pulse thudding dully in the back of his mouth.

“Welcome to καφές,” and Steph totally appears magically by his side, like her inner wingwoman instincts called, staring at the buffet in front of them. “What can we make for you?”

**

Jason, Damian, and Dick.

This feels like a joke somehow.

It’s a joke because all three of these god-tier hotties seem to be…flirty? Kind of super obviously?

Steph sighs as she makes the Americano, watches Tim over her shoulder as he rings up the customers, and the one with the smooth accent literally puts a $100 bill in the tip jar.

In the tip jar

Without looking away from Tim.

The younger one has attitude for days, but he’s putting on the charm when he asks for Tim’s name (c’mon, we have name tags) in a low purr, and what would Timothy suggest for someone who likes light and sweet, hands on the counter close to Tim’s in a perfectly casual way.

The leaner one, who has an ass that could be considered out-of-this-world-hot, literally puts a hand on Tim’s, nodding with attentive eyes while Tim gives them the specials of the day (for the third time), and Steph comes very close to burning the shit out of herself while making his latte.

(They are so obvious. Tim what are you even doing right now? Why, whyyy isn’t her best friend telepathy working RIGHT. NOW?!)

They’re from out-of-town, on some business, and know nothing of the sights. Would he happen to be from Gotham? Could he suggest a nice hotel where they might get accommodations?

It’s right then. Right. Then.

She has to do something.

Because they? Are best friends. And she is invested as hell getting him laid. 

(After that awful break-up with Conner last year, he hasn’t gotten back on the proverbial horse. And this? Is his opportunity of a literal lifetime.)

“Tim! Could you help me just a minute–“ is sweet and soft, her smile warm and welcoming. “If you guys wouldn’t mind having a seat over there, Tim can bring your drinks in a jiffy!”

The looks are absolutely sinful and even her sweet best should be picking up on the UST less than a foot away from him.  She bites the inside of her cheek at how pink his face is when their customers finally take a few steps away from the counter.

She pulls him back around the set-up to the sinks by one wrist, almost hopping up and down with excitement.

“Wh-what did you need help with? Did the espresso machine go down again?”

“Are you fricking kidding me right now?” She whispers furiously, “Tim. Timmy. Honey. Sweet Summer Child. You are going to listen up and do exactly as I say.”

Now he’s rolling his eyes because something is definitely coming that he isn’t going to like.

“You are going to take out their drinks, and tell them you know a perfectly nice hotel not far from here. If they seem interested, you’re going to tell them you’d be happy to give them directions or maybe show them where. Le Grande is only a few blocks away, and you might have a chance to be the jelly in that sandwich.”

“Are you serious?” He deadpans. “They’re just…being nice. It’s late, they want coffee,” he shrugs awkwardly, “you know. Just really friendly people?”

“This is Gotham,” she deadpans back, “there are no friendly people. But they? Are so into you. Take their drinks, tell them you know where they can stay the night, a place with a nice bar and good reputation. If they invite you to have some birthday drinks with them, then, for the love of God, Tim, say yes. Maybe if you get a few in you, they’ll invite you to their room for a game of hide the salami. If they do, you’d better come back with stories for days.”

“I love you, but you make me crazy,” and he walks around to finish up the drinks, shaking his head with a grin. “C’mon, like I would even show up on their radar? I’m betting CEOs or Hollywood kept husbands.”

And now the game has begun. Steph goes around behind him to clean-up the mess. “Tallest is an underwear model. I’ll accept nothing less, not with an ass like that.”

“Unless they’re in porn,” he comes back with a lowered voice, chancing a glance over his shoulder to find the three beautiful men looking back at him from the only table still with chairs on the ground. 

“I can see it,” she returns with a laugh, “I mean. They are off the charts.” But she gives him the side-eye, bites down when he is completely gone.

And Tim doesn’t answer, can’t for the way his breath is literally taken away. His crazily eidetic memory spits out Damian when their eyes meet from across the mostly closed shop, Jason and Dick are talking low, glancing at him with flirty, interested smiles, but Damian hasn’t looked away, those green eyes incredibly intense. 

Like picturing someone with their clothes off, tied to his bed, third orgasm ruined, and the next one carefully planned out for the execution, kind of intense.

Damian licks his lips, making it obvious, while those eyes take a slow sweep down his body, and Tim can’t help the abrupt strike of heat that shivers up his spine. 

**

“He is more beautiful in person,” Dick says low in the old language. “Father was right to send us.”

Jason glances at their older brother, sitting back in the rickety chair with deceptive ease, the very picture of beg me to fuck you. For the last ten minutes, he’s been picturing that cute little barista panting under him, eyes dazed and desperate in the same breath. 

“Kinda begs the question howz he been able ta live with mortals like this. Someone oughta found ‘im out by now.”

Without looking away, catching the curve of cheek go pink with his attention, Damian smirks behind his hands. “Father said twenty-one years. Perhaps he was be-spelled as an infant. That would explain why he was forced to stay here with mortals rather than live among other halflings sired by Gods.” 

And in their world, curses are more common than one would think.

“If the spell had an anchor date, no one would notice him until the duration.”

“’S already hard ta take m’ eye off’n him,” Jay admits low, rumbling deeply in his chest, “gonna be soon if he ain’t already there, ya feel me, boys?”

Dick hums an affirmative, eyes narrow on their prey.

“Should we discuss an actual plan to bring him into his power?” Because Damian is already salivating for the man moving behind the counter.

Initially, Damian had been against father’s wishes. He was in no way prepared for the first glance in the waters, only slightly less enthralled now that he’s been in the mortal’s presence. His soothing nature, his song-like voice, the pink of his lips, the deep darkness of his eyes, the radiance and calm Damian felt immediately soothes something desperately angry that has always animated him as the God of War. 

In that moment, not having this man is unacceptable. He has every intention of joining Richard and Jason in bed with this Tim, aiding them in pleasuring this man over and over and over. The need is compounded after facing Tim’s easy smile and soft laughter. Damian finds himself hungry, arousal burning him from within, replacing the fire of his rage with something more primal. He immediately imagines that softly smiling face to be twisted with unbearable pleasure, bare and beautiful with his thighs over Damian’s shoulders, voice hoarse from moaning, crying, begging. 

All that in his mind’s eye while watching Tim’s moving mouth, imaging how he would taste. 

Dick’s mouth quirks when he catches the very intense vibe his youngest brother is setting off, sees their important assignment get adorably flustered. The other mortal behind the counter is talking with flailing hands and easy to read lips, his senses reach out with the wind to catch as much of their conversation as possible, gathering information on their prey. 

He smirks when the female mortal seems to be on their side. The hunt won’t be as difficult as he’d first imagined when he had answered their Father’s call. 

Jay laughs at their younger brother, “thought that one was obvious from how hard yer cock is in yer pants, Demon.”

The God of War doesn’t bother to look away from their eventual conquest, “tt. Crude as usual. Unlike you, I do not usually have a taste for mortals. He is the first I’ve come across to elicit this…reaction.”

Dick smirks when the female rightfully compliments his ass, tuning back into the conversation while he subtly watches their assignment come back around the bar and work the machines. He’s already formulating a plan, not counting on their individual power to simply overtake Tim with eye contact. Commands might not work either, but they would need to test it on him to know for sure. Jason’s usual seduction didn’t make Tim speechless with desire, Damian’s intimidating aura didn’t terrorize him or incite him to violence, and Dick’s mostly-feral predator vibe didn’t trigger Tim’s fight or flight. Come to think of it, their usual effect on mortals didn’t seem to happen to Tim at all. 

“Ta be honest…halflings like him,” Jay hitches a thumb in the direction of their prey, “are at least prepared fer what’s ta come, see, ‘cause most halflings are on Paradise Island with the Amazons. Gods n’ Goddesses can find ‘em there, n’ the Amazons keep ‘im all safe. ain’t like that until after a full God brings ‘im ta power. This?” and Jay gives a sweep of one hand to encompass everything, them, the mortal world, the coffee shop. “Well, this ain’t ‘xactly the precedent.”

“Surely, since he is still technically mortal, he is...fragile. How can we take him without killing him before his power manifests?”

Dick’s eyes narrow, “simple. He already has an aura of a godling. It’s only getting stronger, and will be more so as long as we are close. By the time he’s ready, he’ll be strong enough to take us.”

“I feel that,” Jason smirks a lil, crossing his ankle over his knee, chair facing toward the pretty thing just waiting fer ‘em. “He’s further along than any I ever felt not pantin’ under a God.”

Dami shifts slightly, rolls his shoulders back. “You say this as though he is ...different, Jason.”

“Come offa it, Dames. Why else would the big man hisself call alla us fer one halfling, eh? Like that ain’t so far under his usual, yeah? I’m thinkin’ this pretty boy might be Daddy’s dirty lil secret.”

Damian straightens, finally taking his eyes off their conquest to glare at his half-brother, “you believe our Father has lain with a mortal and born another child? This man?”

Jay shrugs a careless shoulder, “Only explanation as ta why he asked alla us ta be in on the deal. Way it’s s’pposed ta go, ya only need one God ‘er Goddess ta bring a halfling. So, why’s B called in the big guns unless he’s somethin’ more? C’mon, Demon. Unique my ass.” His forefinger makes a circle around their table, putting the bigger question out there.

“If he is half blood of our Father,” Dami’s voice goes low and thick, thoughts churning dark behind his eyes, “then taking him to bed–“

Jason laughs out loud again, eyes glittering in the overhead lights, flecks of jade in a sea of blue. “–is gonna be the fuck of yer immortal life, Baby. Anyone with ‘im is gonna ride ‘im like an animal ‘till he screamin’ an’ all that power is gonna fill ‘im right on up like a cup runnin’ over.”

It’s very obvious when Damian’s eyes dilate, slide back to their pending conquest.

Dick looks over at his middle brother with a frown, “don’t count your chickens, Little Wing. The hunt isn’t over.” He turns back to their prey, “we have him in our sites, but we have to actually catch him.”

Jason clicks his tongue, “I got it on good authority we can convince ‘im. I mean, ya lookit us lately? Mortals are all over me on any standard day.”

And, it’s not a lie. Of the three of them, Jason directly interacts with mortals the most. Whether in the Underworld overseeing punishment, or in his high-end nightclub in Los Angeles, Jason lives among mortals with Father’s blessing (as long as the Underworld is kept closed and the guilty submit to justice). 

“Well, we gave him a backstory, so the next step is having a den to secure him. Jay, that female mentioned Le Grande. Sound familiar?“

“Oh yeah, it does. No worries, Big Wing, I’m onnit,” and a salacious grin the working barista happens to catch. 

While Jason Todd now lives in the City of Angels, Gotham was always his first stomping ground. Whenever he wants a vacation from his nightclub or the hell loop management he’s got going on down below, he comes back to Gotham to live a little in the old style. He pulls a phone from his inner jacket pocket, makes a quick call, his voice low and hypnotic, watching as the female puts all their drinks on a small tray for the halfling to carry to them. 

He hangs up when the Penthouse is on the way to being prepared, any time Mr. Todd, and a slow smirk slides over his face while he imagines that pretty boy ready ta be debauched in all right ways, laid out against blood-red sheet in a very impressive bed, that pink mouth open and panting their names like a prayer.

(Fuck, he’s getting more powerful. We ain’t gonna have much time. He and Dickie share a side eye while their Dames gets caught further under this boy’s spell. Fer a first mortal, their lil murder muffin picked one hell of a time ta get a taste.)

“No worries, boys. Nest is gonna be swanky as fuck ‘cause I got standards n’ all.”

“I’m more concerned about whether it’s safe, Jay. I don’t want anyone else finding him for a while, at least not until he is able to go before Father.” Dick subtly watches their prey, keeping tabs on the beauty coming so close to his time. The faint power humming like an aura is a drug to any full God in the area.

“We can make him agreeable enough to keep others from finding him.” Damian waves off, unconcerned. “Once he is fully awakened, his stamina will increase exponentially. Then it is a matter of keeping him in bed long enough to acclimate accordingly.”

“Not if he’s immune to our sway over mortals, Little D.” Dick’s eyes narrow, his gaze turns shrewd, “So we are going to keep him agreeable by being on our best behavior and seduce him the right way, slow and gentle until he gives us some indication he can take…more. Everyone understand?”

The scoff from their God of War includes a roll of the eyes because this man is their spoils. Things like slow and gentle aren’t necessary when you are claiming what you’ve rightfully taken. 

Jason, however, smiles wide and white, “ya said the secret word, Dickie.”

(No one has to verify it is indeed seduce.)

“Just keep in mind. We’re here to help him, not hurt him. The sex is going to be fantastic considering how innocent he looks, but we’re also keeping him safe.” 

“The only true concern is Chaos. If any of them get a hint of him, we will indeed have a battle on our hands,” Damian idly observes, just the thought of what his Chaos Grandfather would do to this beautiful being makes his fists clench, makes fury find root in his heart where the the urge to claim what is his, theirs, grows stronger. 

Dick immediately straightens, has a second to shutter at the image of Ra’s appearing before this (their) mortal and seducing him out of his innocence, Ra’s keeping him chained to a bed with jeweled restraints, Ra’s taking advantage of his power, his body, his very essence.

Dick seethes just thinking about it.

“We’ve already found him,” Dick tries to keep his voice steady, eyes all for the boy laughing at the female’s antics, moving around the machinery with knowledgeable hands, “the plan is we keep him secure until he’s stable enough with his power to enter Father’s presence, then they won’t be cause for concern. Chaos cannot enter the Heavens. There, he will be the most safe.”

Jason and Damian both give him their attention.

“C’mon, Dickie,” is smooth in the way Jason can be, their bringer of punishments. “Ya ain’t tellin’ me alls yer thinkin’ ‘bout is keepin’ that lil piece safe? Wid’ an ass like that? Getting all pink just talkin’ the talk?”

Damian hums softly, “he will be exquisite.”

“Like I already said,” Dick smiles widely when Tim finally picks up the tray with a last few words to his co-worker who is cleaning the machines they just used. “The sex is going to be fantastic.”

 **

The three hottest men on the planet have unfairly low standards, or he’s being fed a line. Tim can’t really decide which.

Steph was just telling him to take them to a hotel in hopes they wanted him to come up for a drink. 

And that is literally happening here.

Right in his face.

After handing out their drinks, Jason’s low drawl (and God what that is doing to Tim’s brainpan should be considered a crime here) casually name drops the most expensive hotel in Gotham, just like so Timmy, we jus’ godda nice room there. It ain’t far, but ya could take us th’ easy way. Maybe come up fer a drink after yer shift?

“We would absolutely love to have a drink with you, Tim. A thank-you for staying open long enough to give us a place to orient ourselves in a new city.”

“I agree with Richard. We owe you quite a debt, don’t we? It is only polite we…compensate you for the inconvenience, yes?”

He knows his face is pink with what is absolutely nothing less than an invitation to a foursome with three gorgeous men he has a hard time looking away from. 

Their eyes feel like hands moving down his body, under his clothes, and in a crazy kind of way, he’s not having paranoid thoughts of kidnapping and human trafficking that could possibly explain why these men wanted ordinary, every-day, boy-next-door him.

His hand unconsciously tightens around the tray he’s holding by his side, “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think this-“ he makes a circular motion with his free hand, “is going to happen. You guys are, ah, a little above my level, and not in a bad way. The flirting is…nice. It’s been a while okay, and I’m weak, but whatever. Anyway, Le Grande isn’t far, so not hard to find, and I’m sure anyone would be happy with some of that um…compensation.  So, please enjoy your drinks and have a good night,” he gives him his professional, glad to help you smile, turns on his heel, and walks away without a backward glance.

(Even if he’s mentally facepalming himself to Mars the whole way.)

**

Steph is beyond disappointed. She’s literally radiating some kind of what the fuck are you thinking energy while they finish up with the machines, doors now securely locked, main lights out, and the night is finally over.

Their last customers took their drinks with a disappointed air and left not long after his little speech, casting glances at the counter where he was stocking things up while Steph watched them mournfully go.

She had about five minutes of incredulous ire, but he literally lays it out for her.

“What do you think men like that want with someone like me?” 

Knowing her, she’d be picturing him naked with a collar around his neck in some rich guy’s mansion somewhere, and she relents a little because yeah, he has a pretty valid point.

The streetlights glow softly in the night as Tim waits while Steph locks the door, and they walk the usual five blocks to her building. Talking about the end of the night is taboo by now, especially when they pass the street leading to Le Grande and just keep walking.  They talk about their plans for their next two days off–

(“I have a hot date.”

“Mmhm, Dungeon and Dragons, Tim?”

“What? Hello, D&D was so last year…. It’s Warhammer, actually.”)

– and Steph bemoans his fortune one last time.

(“But like, what if-“

“I don’t think I want to speculate. If I do, then I might realize that was a bonehead move.”

“Aw, Timmy. The next time hot guys flirt, give them the benefit of the doubt. You could have at least said yes to the drink.”

“Well, I am twenty-one today.”)

He waves, waits until she’s in the building before moving deeper into the Gotham night. He’s careful about staying in the shadows with his head down to avoid notice. It’s not great here in the Narrows, but he loves his place above the old theatre even if the rent is just this side of ridiculous, especially for this part of town.

Still, it’s always a 50/50 walking home. 

The several creepy alleyways between the shop and his penthouse could house just about anything, from a robbery to a shooting to kidnapping most nights, and he hunches further in his hoodie, keeps his head low. Against his better judgment, he’s thinking about them instead of the pitiful cupcake waiting in his fridge with a candle on top and ordering a fresh pizza.

He thinks about the humor in Dick’s eyes, and the interest in Jason’s. Not to mention how…intense Damian had been. He’s helpless to wonder if those gazes would be the same if they were all in bed together…

His face is suddenly a little hot, and he firmly decides he’s totally allowed to speculate about what-if he’d legit said something like, “a drink? That would be really nice actually.”

Yeah, that would have led them to a very nice hotel room with a minibar, and maybe some making out to start.

(He might be sitting on Dick’s lap once he’s had a few drinks in him, getting hotter with each new purposeful brush of hands against him.

Pressed up behind him, Jason would tip his head back for dirty, deep kisses, pulling off his mouth with an audible sound.

“Yer birthday, izzit? Well, me n’ my boys def’nitely gotch the perfect present f’ ya.”

Damian would lean in to talk against his ear, make him shudder in their arms, “It’s easy to unwrap, Timothy. I can promise you would enjoy it.”

And if he whines when Dick bites down on his throat, then only the three hottest men he’s ever seen would be able to say for sure.)

He’s completely into the what-if and is probably why his resident-of-Gotham-fight-or-flight instinct doesn’t kick in.

Before the man with the gun ever turns around to face him, Tim can tell he’s dangerous because he’s scared. Desperate and scared are such a bad combination.

But even if the man with the gun is desperate, the small family huddled in terror have so more to lose. 

Tim's eyes go wide because his night just changed forever, and his automatic reaction is to take a half step forward, to reach out a hand, to a "don't do this, please don’t do this," rolling right out of his mouth. 

He’s helplessly looking from the gunmen to the family pinned down in this dirty alleyway leading to his place and the theatre, heart throbbing in fear for the little boy in a nice suit clutching his mother and father with tight fists.

And something in Tim firms, cements, in the immediate, abrupt belief that this is going to end in his favor. Something inherent in him knows he has control of the situation. 

The gunman’s barrel is aimed dead center. 

(A killing blow.)

"You aren’t going to do this," something in him pushes and pulls, something that makes him so sure, so fucking sure, no one in this alley is going to die tonight. (But, his knees still knock with fear and adrenaline while his brain pan works in overdrive.) 

A shudder goes through the hand holding the gun, eyes he can't really see in the dark, narrow from below the brim of a dirty hat.

"Get lost, kid.” But the guy plainly swallows, sweat beading off the side of his face, muscles tight with strain. “This isn’t any of your business." 

Tim grits his teeth, doesn’t move forward in case he sets something off. "All of us can identify you, and you aren't going to get enough shots off to kill everyone, not without being noticed, even in this neighborhood." His eyes slide back to the family when the motion of the father pulls the small, blue-eyed boy behind them, shielding him. 

You are going to go home tonight, alive and together, Tim promises the little boy with his eyes. Everything is going to be fine.

(And if he could stop it from happening to that little kid with a trembly lower lip and three-piece suit because he got to go with his parents for a night at the movies, then he damn sure isn't going to run.)

"So you?" His own voice goes deep, dark, and from somewhere past all his own fucked-up pain and trauma (his past scars buried in grief and mourning and moving forward because for fuck's sake, there was nothing to go back to) . "Aren't going to hurt anyone." 

“You seem pretty fucking cocky, you little shit.”

“Only because you know I’m right. GCPD always has patrols here, so you won’t get far.” 

The gunman sneers, his arm starting to get tired holding up the shiny automatic. 

The mother over the gunman’s shoulder has a hand over her mouth, eyes wide and wet, but the small family is subtly shuffling slowly backwards. Tim gets it. He needs to keep the attention on himself, give them time to get out of the line of fire. "The way I see it, you've got two options here." 

He slides his wallet out of his back pocket, holds it up over his shoulder between two fingers. "Take this as a door prize and run. Or, try to shoot us, potentially miss because that .38 special is a piece of crap, and have a pretty nice cell at Blackgate for the trouble. Robbery is one thing, but murder? Definitely a whole different type of crime."

The father keeps slowly hedging his family back, trying not to make sudden moves while Tim keeps his wallet waving back and forth, keeps the motion so the gunman stays trained on him. 

The tension is palpable while he waits for the gunman’s decision, the next move, the next flinch, the resounding blam as the gun goes off, his pulse thudding in the back of his mouth even while he knows everything is going to work out in their favor. 

Take the wallet and run, he keeps thinking over and over and over. Don’t look back at them. Take the wallet and run.

A huff in the night between them, and the gun barrel disappears inside a ratty coat, the gunman darting up to snatch the wallet out of Tim’s hand and hightail it the fuck out of the alley.

Once he’s gone and the echoing footsteps fade, the relief is palpable.  The father lets out a huge sigh of relief. “Thank-you,” he tells Tim gravely from across the alley. He turns to scoop up the little boy, weave an arm around his wife’s waist, and steer them back toward the theatre and into the light. 

Tim, heart thudding in his chest, turns to put his back against the rough brick and mortar. His knees feel weak with relief and adrenaline now that the obvious surge in bravery (reads as stupidity, tempting a guy with a gun and all) has left him panting and shaky.  “Sure, it’s fine. Being shot in Gotham isn’t really a big deal.”

He’s pretty sure he muttered it to himself because the small family fleeing their almost-demise doesn’t turn. But the voices from the mouth of the alley gasp in outrage.

“What almost happened?!”

Tim jerks because he didn’t think anyone else was behind him when the gunman took off. Imagine his surprise when his customers are standing there staring at him with wide eyes.

“Shot?” Jay is already striding forward, hands all over the barista to look for injuries because dammit, were they too late and someone already got at him? 

Dick has a hand on Damian’s shoulder, pushes the youngest toward the running gunman in an obvious message before joining Jay at their halfling’s side. 

He notices how big those blue eyes are with Jay’s long fingered hands pulling and tugging and touching. He catches the pink in Tim’s face when Jay’s hands finally wrap around his hips, thumbs in the niches. Their prey is in their trap now, theirs to reel even closer. All they have to do is keep him cornered and wait for the right moment to strike.

“N-no, nothing, I’m fine, really!” Tim sputters, stepping back out of grabby hands, face hot with how strong Jason’s hands are. “I mean, that’s-that’s pretty standard for Gotham, actually.”

Dick has no qualms palming the side of Tim’s face, tilting his eyes up, using just a bit of influence in his tone when he asks, “still, did he hurt you, Tim?” 

“No! No, I’m okay. Situation defused. I just had to give him incentive to leave without firing the gun.”

Dick hums, thumb moving over the cut of Tim’s jaw. “He was dangerous. Standing up to him was very brave, Tim, but you could have been seriously hurt. I’m a little worried about letting you out of my sight with guys like him running around.”

Jay’s eyebrow arches because wow, Dickie. ‘At was nice. But even if he knows the oldest is trying to push, trying to make Tim fall under his spell, become more..open...to suggestion as Gods have sway over mortals. It takes Jason a second to realize their little mortal ain’t looking all dreamy-eyed n’ dazed with Dickie’s influence. 

Means, they’ve godda play this the way Dick said from the beginning. Tricks ain’t gonna make it easy fer any of ‘em.

Not that he’s got a problem chasing when they play hard-ta-get. 

“I mean, I made it this far in life,” Tim jokes weakly, breath shuddering when Dick’s thumb feathers over his lower lip. “I don’t – why were the three of you passing over this way? I know I gave you foolproof directions earlier.”

Instead of answering, Jay wants to give it a go, lets himself pours on the voice, “Ya look shakin’ up a lil’ there, Baby. Lookit this,” wrapping his long fingers around one of Tim’s hands, thumb rubbing over the softly beating pulse in his wrist. “Yer hand’s tremblin’. Might wanna come back ta th’ hotel n’ get a drink after all, feel me? Getcha nice n’ calmed down. Ledd’us drop ya off once yer better. Make sure ya don’t run inta no more trouble. ‘Course we want ya ta be safe n’ sound, don’t we?”

With the darkness in Jay’s eyes, the possessive hold Dick has on him, Tim can barely swallow, can barely catch a breath.

Luckily, his mouth catches up before his brain has time to process the logistics of where the hell did you come from again?

“I can’t, sorry. I kind of gave up my wallet when–”

“After what you went through, it’s our treat,” Dick soothes, his other hand itching to touch skin, “consider it a birthday drink.”

The two of them give a more overt push.

Tim sucks in a breath to decline, but when Dick takes his hand, the what-if in his brain pan flares to life again, and everything feels so much like fate or destiny. Like he was meant to say yes the first time and here he is getting some kind of divine do-over.

(Does he even believe in all that shit? Probably not, just his brain trying to help him get laid is more likely the case.)

Either way, how can he say no a second time?

**

The answer. 

He doesn’t.

In less than ten minutes, he’s packed between Dick and Jason in a booth at Le Grande’s very posh digs, a place he’d probably never see in his life considering only the Gotham elite had a place in the VIP lounge.

He’s nervously wiping the condensation off his drink, trying not to think of Jason’s massive thigh pressed up against his or Dick’s hand casually on his knee on the other side. Jay has some ridiculously tall beer, and Dick is sipping on a blue drink from a martini glass. Tim has a water with lemon since, you know, his wallet was taken and he literally has no identification to prove he’s of age.

Out of the dim, Damian stalks toward them like a sleek panther stalking prey, those jade eyes zeroing in on their table. With a smirk, he slides into the other side of the booth and holds Tim’s wallet between thumb and forefinger. He places it in front of their...night’s acquisition, already eyeing the barista’s soft t-shirt and jeans, calculating how fast they can strip him of the clothes.

Tim’s mouth drops open when he opens his wallet to find money and identification still there, “h-how did you…?”

“I am very persuasive,” Damian purrs over the music, “it is a gift.” He has a moment of satisfaction, recalling the thief’s absolute terror when Damian took on his godly form, full height with spiked armor and flaming sword, glowing green eyes behind his helm, ready to strike the criminal down with one mighty blow.

“Return the wallet and never seek to harm another soul as long as you remain on this mortal coil.” Was like ground glass, the flaming blade scant inches from the criminal’s nose.

He didn’t kill the mortal, hadn’t seen the point really.

Tim’s soft smile and awed, “thank-you, Damian.” made dealing with another pesky mortal worth the trouble. “Did you call the police? Turn him in?”

“Unfortunately, he threw your wallet at me and ran. I chose not to follow.” A small lie but Damian will take Timothy’s appreciation nonetheless. “However, I believe he will refrain from petty theft from here on out. You must have made…an impression.”

He gives Jason a side-eye to make sure his brother understood.

Before Tim could ask more questions, Dick winds an arm around his shoulders and cheers. “Great job Baby Bat! You saved Timmy’s wallet!”

“Of course, it was my pleasure to assist our beloved barista.”

Tim’s face goes warmer, even without a drink.

“All right,” Jay grins down at their little halfling, “now’s ya can have a drink wid’ us, yeah? Gonna celebrate turning the big two one in style, feel me?”

“Don’t worry,” Dick soothes, “we have a place upstairs if we celebrate too hard. Have to warn you, I’m a cuddler and I sleep naked.”

Tim doesn’t know if his face can get any more red.

While their little halfling looks about ready ta bust, Jay takes advantage of the distraction, motions to the cocktail waitress making rounds. She scurries right on up to their table, squints at Tim’s ID for a few minutes and then back at him. 

Dick orders a round for the table in a tone that is mesmerizing and she assures them she’ll hurry back with their drinks.

Tim only downs three drinks that night, but the soft buzz is nice enough to take the edge off.

He learns Jason manages a nightclub, Damian is a weapons enthusiast, and Dick apparently does some kind of contract work for environmental agencies. All of it is pretty vague and none of them go into detail as to why they’re in Gotham in the first place, or where they’re originally from. Instead, they ask him numerous questions about his life and his job. His parents and family (all of them long gone. He’s got Steph and Ives now). Why he stays in one of the most dangerous cities on the planet. You know, understandable questions if not a little intense.

While he’s pleasantly sinking into the soft feeling, the three men around him don’t seem to be affected by the alcohol in the slightest but are intently listening to him talk about his life.

(College was a pipe dream. Right now, he’s just keeping afloat, squirreling away every dollar he can for the inevitable move out of Crime Alley. One day his shitty laptop will be a state of the art system. One day, he’s going to get into social work or something to help other kids like him, so another doesn’t slip through the cracks to live a partial life. He’s rambling like fuck when he tells them this, keeps going past it without noticing the look passing between the three.)

Their attention is...odd. Nice but odd.

He hasn’t felt important to anyone since Conner broke it off, breaking his heart without trying to hurt him. Theirs was just another tragedy that is his life.

Jay disappears for a moment and brings him water when he declines another drink, not wanting to walk home with stumbles, not after that situation with the gunmen could have ended horribly–

The night changes when he admits he’s never seen a room in Le Grande, never been through the doors before tonight no matter how long he’s lived in Gotham, and accepts the invite up to see the penthouse. All of it happening so easily is terribly close to what he’d imagined in his secret fantasy, that his tongue doesn’t know how to say anything other than yes.

[riverofjazzsims]

Clotho "Spin" Moirai reporting to Morgyn’s spellcasting tournament by @adelarsims

Clotho "Spin" Moirai

Aspiration: Purveyor of Potions

Traits: Family oriented, Loves Outdoors, Perfectionist, Active, Outgoing

Reincarnated every 1000 years, Spin is the youngest of the next legacy of The Fates. Each Fate is born to what is essentially the previous version of themselves. With each legacy or rebirth they physically will present different than their "Mother Fate" versions. For the first 200 years they are in some ways like humans, they experience infancy through adulthood, this acts to not only strengthen The Fates but fosters a sense of empathy and compassion in their coming roles.

During this time they are learning what it is to be a Fate, and ALL 3 MUST pass their Laws and Justice journey together to ascend to the next phase of their lives. If for some reason this doesnt happen, their Mother Fates will continue to act in the role until it is time for the next rebirthing.

Spins birthing has shaken the The Fates family since the day pulled from his mothers womb. See Fates as far back as anyone is aware have ALWAYS been female. And though he is beautiful to behold he is an anomaly to the legacy. Even more so because his powers are completely untamed and often times dangerous. If he cant get his powers in check neither he nor his sisters will ascend to the next phase of life and will ultimately become mortal.

Fun Facts

The Fates have two names - Their formal name which is always the same for every Fate dependent on their role. And the name their mother gives them

Though each Fate has a different Mother they are considered to be siblings

Only 2 legacy of Fates were unable to ascend to the next phase of their lives.

Fates usually are humanoid in appearance but never look 100% human

PRIVATE DOWNLOAD IF CHOSEN

Additional background on The Fates mythology

[deuxcherise]

Masterlist

A/n: So since I've gotten up to more than 10 posts now on the entire blog, I've decided to make a masterlist before the number of my posts becomes overwhelming. Still learning Tumblr... Okay! Here goes!

-----🍒-----

[Current Status / Past Updates] - Link

-----🍒----- Update (January 9, 2025)

First update of the year, wooo!

So I just wanted to say happy new year to everyone. Again, I deeply appreciate those who come to this place (new and returning) and check out my writing. I hope you all are having a splendid first month of the year.

At the moment I am in the midst of multiple drafts and plans for upcoming holidays. Between that, and work, and other things life has placed on my path, I am... well, here! And I will continue to be here for as long as I can!

But anyway, I just wanted to say that I have a Ko-fi now! Feel free to donate, as it would really help me out. 🥰

That being said, I will still be releasing chapters for my series as per usual and whatever random thing happens to pop into my head. Until next time, see ya!

-----🍒-----

[Request Information] - Link

-----🍒-----

[Original Content]

SFW / Slight NSFW

~Collar Crimes~

You are just a regular hard-working citizen of a corrupt city owned by many groups of scary people, but you make the best of it. That is, until you meet a bunch of people who may or may not want to kill you. One definitely wants to love you though... maybe two... or three...? Between love, obsession and crime, how will you survive? Ch 0: Red Letter Ch 1: Weasel In Ch 2: Cat Burglar Ch 3: All Bark, No Bite (1/2) | (2/2) Ch 4: Cat Got Your Tongue? Ch 5: Pop Goes the Weasel Ch 6: Self-Preservations Ch 7: Don't be Crabby Ch 8: [In progress...]

~When You Feed Strays...~ (unofficial title lol)

The Hare and the Fox You are the eldest daughter of a family of noble foxes, and he is just a dumb rabbit you picked up from the middle of the woods, or so you think... The Buck and the Reynard You are the youngest son of a family of noble foxes, and he's just a dumb... deer or whatever he is, that you picked up from the middle of the woods, or so you think...

~One-Shots~

Look At Me

You may have endured cruelty and inflicted cruelty onto others, but there is one person who wants to do nothing but simp for his queen, you. He has only one simple request.

Breakin' Dishes

Your husband left you at home with a lot of breakable dishes and no entertainment. A dangerous combo. So you decide to make your own entertainment.

Honey

You find yourself in bed, unable to leave the embrace of your dear wifey, to go to work...

Feeling Blue

After a breakup (or ghosting, in this case), you spend some time in your feelings for a while... Just a little while though.

The Art of Declining

As much as you love your kaiju boyfriend, he has his moments. But as much as you love your kaiju boyfriend, no means no.

~~~~~

NSFW (all the random explicit spice!)

Depravity

Let Me Solo Him

Salacious

Deviancy

Sacrilegious

-----🍒-----

[Fanfics]

~~Genshin Impact Stuff~~

~Ayato Kamisato~

Notice Me, Mrs. Kamisato!

In which your husband, Ayato, tries anything and everything to get you to react in various ways to him. Part 1: Cats vs Dogs Part 2: Lend a Hand Part 3: Fear of Cucumbers Part 4: Brother vs Sister Part 5: To Have and To Hold Part 6: Early Birds Part 7: [In progress...]

~Dottore~

Rebirth

The Doctor can't bear the subject of his upmost interest to leave him alone in this mortal realm... Part I & Part II

~Neuvillette~

Operation Otterly-In-Love

You, a young bachelor who was born to inherit your family's legacy, are more interested in capturing the heart of a certain hydro dragon.

~~~~~

~~Honkai Star Rail Stuff~~

~Sunday~

Sunday (Slight NSFW)

Sunday has decided to lock you up in a birdcage.

Sunday Pt. 2 (NSFW)

-----🍒-----

[Other Stuff]

Imagines / Random Thoughts

Operation YAN

Thanks For Giving Answers

[tower-reversed]

little and big siblings in chainsaw man

in the international assassins arc, that youngest brother of the three american assassins stuck out to me as a character, because why was he given that moment of development only to really be unimportant. what's up with him?

we see that his brothers have a history, a reputation that they don't want to quit. the youngest brother on the other hand is a blank slate being dragged into this life. he's not exactly unhappy in the career, but it's meaningless to him when his brothers die. the only thing that makes him crawl back is their memory...the reputation they've made for themselves of being immortal.

there are three little brothers in chainsaw man part one: this american assassin, denji, and aki's biological little brother. all of them are trying to follow their big brothers' footsteps; even aki's bio brother has one scene of importance where he desperately wants to follow aki outside. big siblings are the molds made for their little brothers to give them an idea of what the larger theme, a normal life, really means. 

for denji, that means to protect his family. but aki's self sacrificial behavior was actually his downfall. when his bio family died, it set him on the path of revenge against the gun devil, and later makima twisted the devotion he had to power and denji to permanently doom him. i think the american assassin was foreshadowing for denji and aki. aki dies stuck in the path he'd already made for himself as a big sibling, a mold, a well trodden path...but what does that mean for denji?

switching tracks: there are several little sisters in chainsaw man. power, obviously, who is bent on doing things her own way. then there's nayuta, who is being raised to break the precedent makima started. finally, there's fami, who's asa's big sister by her association with yoru. fami is the one trying to drag all the horsemen into her plan to stop the prophecy of nostradamus (a predestined thing, a part of you will) but ASA, her LITTLE SISTER, is just trying to live a "normal life". this is the point where i actually say what i'm getting at, which i think is obvious now: big siblings set a mold and the little siblings usually break it or suffer the same results of their idols. asa represents this severance in the most literal sense because she died and came back DIFFERENT. IRREVERSIBLY. not to mention, she's the person in denji's life who most believes he can separate from his identity as a chainsaw man and live a normal life.

the thing about denji is that he's a middle child, an older and a younger sibling. he himself is trying to set an example for nayuta, which he is building off of aki's example (this is such an insane stretch but he's literally raising money for nayuta's education by selling cigarettes. lol), though when we get a glimpse into nayuta's head we see that she really isn't taking in all of denji's advice for her (she is his little sister after all). anyway, denji's intentions are pure but his fatal detail is that he IS following aki's example, when we all know how that turned out. he's self sacrificial. he's having the worst time ever because he doesn't know what he wants out of life, and to top it all off the person he does everything to protect may be dead (i personally don't think nayuta's dead but that's another thing).

the snow devil being coughed up to simulate the snow tied to aki's death presents denji with the choice between the beaten path or rebirth, like asa. but i think he's going to choose rebirth, because there is one character i KNOW HAS TO come back, as a reincarnation.

his little sister power.

[justamagifan]

I present to you……. My Magi ocs ;)

Well it’s not ALL of my ocs but at least it’s something, i did the most important/most mentioned ones in the story i created, i’ll probably do a part two ;)

In order of main characters to “important secondary characters”:

First, my main oc of Magi: adventures of Sinbad.

Princess Nerfera and her adult version:

Sencond character: Nerfera’s eldest daughter and current heir to the throne, Princess Jade and her snake Zereh

She was born exactly 10 years after the death of her maternal grandmother, and she marks the rebirth of her kingdom, since when she was born the kingdom was still recovering (if you’re good at math, you already noticed the issue of her and her mother’s age)

Third character: Nerfera’s youngest son, prince Jamill (I don’t have much to say about him, but his appearance already gives away who his and his sister’s father are)

Adding Last minute:

Jamill also has a snake with the exception that it is female and not a male, for reasons of lineage all the boys in the family when they are born end up “receiving” a female snake instead of it being the same gender as them, and they don’t have such strong connection than when it is with the princesses, their snakes are usually in a state of almost “hibernation” only waking up for their needs.

His snake’s name is Zephyra.

Fourth character: Nerfera’s late mother, Queen Althoria, who was killed in an attack by the Parthevian Empire, she was 30 years old and was pregnant with her second child on the day of the attack!

She had a snake that survived the attack, this snake’s name is Vespera, and she is currently under the care of Althoria’s twin sister and in the company of her own twin sister (since all the snakes in this family are nothing less than the snake version of its “owners”).

And the last character of this post: Queen Titanna, ancestor of all the previous characters and who surprisingly is STILL alive (her daughter is gone and she is not), her age is unknown and she is 14’9(450) tall, the snake wrapped around her is called Venomia and they have been linked since the day they were born.

Well that’s it for now, i hope you like it (and it doesn’t flop)

Bye!!!!

[arc-misadventures]

Rebirth AU since there's a strong chance of Winter being Jaune and Jeanne's half-sister. Did Jaune ever hook up with Winter in his last life, I'm just imagining Jaune reacting to him remembering that he may have fucked his sister in his last life

Stop Asking Asking Me About My Sex Life!!

Jeanne: So, Jaune you saw, Winter allot when you were in, Atlas, right?

Jaune: No we didn’t do anything.

Jeanne: What are you even talking…?

Jaune: We never dated, we never had a one night stand We never took innovatory in a supply closet. We rarely even spoke outside missions, and such. Nothing ever happened between me, and Winter Schnee in my past life.

Jeanne: …

Jeanne: But, if you could…

Jaune: No. I never liked, Winter…

Jaune: Well, I did like her, but I never liked her like that.

Jeanne: So, nothing happen between you, and Winter.

Jaune: Nope.

Jeanne: But, something happened between you and all those, Atlas Milfs, eh~?

Jaune: Why are you so interested in my sex life?

Jeanne: …

Jeanne: Because you had one…

Jaune: Beg pardon?

Jeanne: You had a sex life! You were this blond Adonis who had multiple conquests! And, I only had the one girl, and you slept with her too!

Jaune: Who?

Jeanne: You… You slept with, May. Right?

Jaune: Nope. We were going to go on a group date; May, Pyrrha, and I. Then the, Fall happened. And, I lost them both…

Jeanne: O-Oh right… I forgot… Since the, Fall didn’t happen in my world…

Jaune: Gods I wish I could forget that day…

Jeanne: Does it… It still hurts?

Jaune: Always. Even with, Pyrrha back in my life it still hurts… The hidden fear I may lose her, and everyone else I ever cared for again… It terrifies me.

Jeanne: Is that why you’re pushing, Pyrrha to use her semblance more, so you don’t lose her again?

Jaune: Partly; I want her to have more fine control; She used to use it as a fan, blowing away her opponents, attacks. If she used it more, if she mastered her semblance, she could use it to hit you with the force of a sledgehammer, or cut you with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel. I want her to be better, because I know she can be better! And, I don’t want to lose her again…

Jeanne: But, there isn’t the threat of, Salem, and her Grimm hordes! She should be safe this time.

Jaune: The Grimm are still out there, and based on the news we don’t have the peaceful, White Fang in this world. So we have no idea what we may face when we start out on the path to becoming, Hunters. So, are we really safe?

Jeanne: …

Jeanne: Haaa… Damn you, and your deep philosophical questions…

Jaune: Hehe. So… Winter Schnee… Should it be, Winter Arc Schnee, or Winter Schnee Arc?

Jeanne: Arc Schnee. Rolls off the tongue better. And, she’s spent all her life a, Schnee. So, I don’t think she’d be okay being called, Arc all of a sudden because she just found out, Dad is her real father.

Jaune: Make sense, but considering the hell her father put her through she may not want to keep her last name.

Jeanne: Wait, hold up, what did her father do to her?

Jaune: …?

Jaune: What did, William tell you about his father…?

Jeanne: Uhh… He was was a respected, and honourable man, who strove for the rights of Faunas everywhere. He ushered in a new era of prosperity, and equality for all. He was also a loving father, and faithful husband. I met him myself, he was a very nice person to be around. He also had a wicked sense of humour. What was he like in your world?

Jaune: A cash greedy bastard, who trampled on the rights of others, particularly the faunas. Destroyed anything, and anyone who got in his way for a quick buck. Told, Willow Schnee to her face he married her for the family business on, Weiss’s tenth birthday. Drove, Willow Schnee to become a reclusive alcoholic. Lead to, Winter Schnee to join the military to escape from her father. Abused, Weiss mentally to keep her in line. Groomed his youngest son, Whitely to become a mini carbon copy of him. Rigged an election that eventually lead to the total destruction of, Atlas, and Mantle.

Jeanne: Okay… And, I thought your life was just shit for you, not that everyone else’s life was also shit for them too!

Jaune: Yeah, I didn’t think that way for your world too. I thought it was all sunshine, and rainbows for everyone there.

Jeanne: Evidently not. Does that mean we’re not living in, ‘my world!’

Jaune: Hmm… Have you ever heard the name, ‘Adam Taurus, before?

Jeanne: No. But, I knew a, Eve Taurus before.

Jaune: And, what were they like?

Jeanne: They were nice person. She was a redhead faunas with an overly bubbly, and welcoming faunas. Horny.

Jaune: Are you talking about her faunas traits, or her state of mind?

Jeanne: Yes.

Jaune: …

Jaune: Okay then.

Jeanne: So who was, Adam? The female counterpart to, Eve?

Jaune: Well… He was a Pro-Faunas racist radical who was part of an terrorist organization called, The White Fang. Who lead a splinter cell of these terrorist to help in the destruction of, Beacon Academy. He then tried to destroy, Haven Academy, but was eventually stopped by the new peaceful, White Fang. But, he was eventually stopped when he was killed by, Yang, and Blake. All of this was no doubt caused by his childhood trauma, and ant-faunas racism that was directed at as a child, as well as the fact that the letters, SDC was branded on his left eye.

Jeanne: …

Jaune: Did I mention the fact he was, Blake’s ex-boyfriend?

Jeanne: …

Jeanne: Okay… That… Yeah, okay…

Jaune: …

Jeanne: So… What kind of world are we living in then?

Jaune: Beg pardon?

Jeanne: Well… It’s just… We thought it was my world because, Selma is in charge of, Beacon Academy. But, it has your version of the, White Fang, and it seems like we also have the, SDC of your world too. However, Winter wasn’t our sister in either of our worlds. So what kind of world is this?

Jaune: A new one. It has some of the same elements in both of our worlds, but, it has a bunch of new ones as well. Makes it pretty exciting doesn’t it?

Jeanne: Yeah it kinda does.

Jaune: Haaa… We’re going to have one hell of a talk with mom, and dad about our past lives.

Jeanne: Any idea how we’re going to deal with that?

Jaune: We just roll with the punches?

Jeanne: Sounds like a plan.

Jeanne: Wait… Considering how this is a different life, and what not… Will, Terra take your first time… Do you think someone else may have your first time instead~?

Jaune: First off: Why the hell are you so interested in my sex life?! Second: Terra wasn’t my first time.

Jeanne: She wasn’t…?!

Jaune: Or, was she~?

Jeanne: So she was…? R-Right?

Jaune just smiled cheekily as he walked away with, Jeanne chasing after him.

Jeanne: J-Jaune… Jaune what happened! Who took your first time, Jaune! WHAT HAPPENED!!!

[getvalentined]

6. Do you have any nicknames or pet names you use for this character?

8. Does the character’s looks/design matter to you?

11. How did you “fall in love” with this character?

For Vincent!!

Do you have any nicknames or pet names you use for this character?

Vinnie, Vince, Vincent Fucking Valentine, My Blorbo of Blorbos

Does the character’s looks/design matter to you?

Oh, yeah. I don't think I would have been as interested in him as I initially was if not for his design; wild black hair and bright red eyes are so aesthetically pleasing, never mind the gauntlet and all the rest. Vincent's character design is iconic.

How did you “fall in love” with this character?

Okay. So. I will paint you a short narrative, because I've been reminiscing about this recently due to the sheer number of people playing Rebirth who have no idea what Vincent's deal is.

I am around 13 years old, sitting on the couch with a PS1 controller in my hands. I acquired Vincent Valentine earlier in this same play session, and he is in my party. I've been running around with him for a little bit, and his limit break is available for the first time. I select it.

"Galian Beast," I read aloud. "Huh."

"Maybe he's a summoner?" My younger (but not youngest) sister suggests.

"Maybe." I hit the button to activate the limit break.

Vincent Valentine, I discover, is not a summoner.

As his little sprite flickers red and black and is replaced by what appears to be a small bipedal behemoth, my eyes go wide.

"...Oh," I say, not to myself or my sister. "Oh you poor baby."

And I've been absolutely doomed ever since.

(From the honest favorite character ask game.)

[twoafflictedsouls]

' PPPRRRAAACCCKKK! '

' SSSPPRRRAASSCCH! '

' PWWWAACCKK ! '

Right out of the fleshy wombs of hsien-Ko's bio mass out came the new offspring but these two, they're not the usual offspring that emerged that are born with a different color palette nor any deformities or any powers whatsoever. These children are not only exact replications of both Hsien-Ko and Mei-Ling but they are TRUE replications as they do not possessed anything the other cell divided offsprings as stated before. The twins are as if the sisters are reborn once again but not really. The two emerged out of the bio mass then they began holding hands wandering through the village walking pass both bio organic weapons and the undead alike who pay them no mind at all. The older sister holds the youngest sister's hand while traversing through the blood and carnage in this village.

As they traverse through the mayhem the two stopped. The two have looked up and are met with the oldest sibling Yanwang now catching their attention she looks down at the two. She knows that they came from their mother's womb but they don't have any traits nor coloration just as the rest as these two are something else entirely. The youngest one possessed bluish skin just that of their mother before T-virus infection which puts her off.

" What in the world....? "

Nonetheless she worries about this later for the two needed protection from umbrella corp mercenaries looking to wipe them out so she slowly offered her hand.

" Come along sisters, let me take care of you and take you back to us... "

The twins looked at each other before they move slowly towards her as Yanwang carry the two in her arms and begun walking back to where the other sisters are. She had hope the others have eaten well or better didn't get into trouble in their current situation.

" I swear to god if I come back and see those two trying to get themselves killed... "

Huff.

Yanwang doesn't want to think about what will happened to them or their mother nor does she want to. Being the smartest and also the only one to put both Rei-ling and Li-liang in their place. She's always the one to get them out of trouble even if she wills herself to risk her own life. To her life is but a luxury.

[thanatos-greek-grim-reaper]

I am Thanatos, God of the dead, husband of Zagreus.

I will pop by camp to help out but I am busy most days.

@zagreus-god-of-blood-rebirths my husband

@asaki-daughter-of-emo-gods my first born daughter

@star-of-the-underworld my slightly annoying sister in law

My darling Demigod children:

Tommie/Ari @its-the-daughter-of-death

Keres and Ajal Scarlett @ur-local-twins-of-death

Eden, my youngest @a-daughterofdeath

Opal @local-thanatos-cabin-member

Don't die yet.

[gamerbearmira]

HELLO IT IS I. I'm sorry for being gone so long but I had an issue with my Google docs and everything I had written kinda got deleted.... And I kind of couldn't find where I left off with the whole rebirth of a miracle Au soooo I had no idea what to do next for it but after thinking about it I have decided that won't stop me and I WILL continue it. sorry in advance for any inconsistencies that might be in this.

*~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~*~~~~~~~*

Pov Isabela

She doesn't hate her youngest sister. She knows how she acts to her might be telling a different story but she doesn't. She's jealous of her. She can admit that, at least to herself, that she's jealous of her freedom and the fact that she isn't forced into any role (but is that really true? With how she's forced into the background, isn't that a role of some kind?) She knows she shouldn't act the way she does, it's not fair to Mirabel but she can't help it, besides she can make up for it all later. So when she was awoken this morning by her father and not her youngest sister she felt an intense amount of dread pool into her stomach.

Which only got worse when she got to the table to see that, besides her mother and Mirabel, everyone is already there. The feeling of panic starts to build inside of her as she takes her seat. Something happened. She knows that Mirabel would never skip waking them up, it's one of the many little jobs that she's assigned to herself and she has never, not once, been late doing them let alone not doing one of them.

She tries to keep herself calm as she looks around the table at everyone, trying to see if one of them knows what might have happened but all she sees is her own fear and slight panic reflected back at her. Poor Luisa is looking around the entire area, eyes desperately searching, she looks like she's on the verge of tears. Tia Pepa is raining slightly and the wind of her panic is noticeable she's running her hands through her braid and is repeating her mantra over and over again all while her Tio Felix tries to keep her calm, Isabela doesn't think it's working but shes not going to point that out right now. Camilo and Antonio have identical confused and scared expressions on their faces it would be funny in a different circumstance. Dolores just looks.... Confused.... That makes Isabela calm slightly because if Dolores is just confused, then maybe they're all just overreacting, maybe last night was just a bit much for Mirabel and mama is with her to make her feel better.

Yes that has to be it! Her youngest sister isn't gone, she hasn't disappeared, nothing has changed, nothing has happened, she's just in the nursery with Mama. She takes a breath of relief feeling a little silly for thinking that Mirabel would... That's she.... Yes she was being silly.

The sound of abuela clearing her throat snaps her out of her thoughts, everyone's eyes snap to abuela waiting to hear what she has to say. It's when she looks at abuela that the little amount of relief that she gained disappears entirely. The look on Abuela's face is not one she has ever seen on her before (or maybe she has...maybe it's been 10 years since she's seen it and she just doesn't remember) before she can get too lost in her thoughts her abuela speaks

"Buenos dias mi familia." Abuela pauses as they all greet her back before taking a deep breath "As you all can see Mirabel and julieta are not at the table right now, they're in the nursery at the moment because .... sometime during the night Casita decided to.... Turn Mirable into a baby." Chaos erupts as she finishes speaking. Absolute chaos.

The storm is intense and forms immediately, animals are running around screeching and breaking everything they see, Camilo's form changes from changing into all kinds of Mirables. Dolores is sitting at her seat hands on her head over her ears squeaking repeatedly. Luisa is sobbing loudly and with her full body. Plants of any and all kinds erupt all around her, not that she notices.

Because what? What did abuela just say? No, no way. There is no way. Before she even knows it she's running to the nursery barely registering the yell that follows her, kind of sounds like abuela. She can't stop herself, she has to see because there's no way. No way in hell. She can hear feet following her and by the way that the ground shakes she knows immediately who it is, Luisa.

She reaches the nursery door and slams into it with her whole body, putting way too much force behind it, and almost rips the door off the hinges as she accidentally breaks it down, she falls forward landing hard on her front. The sound of a wailing baby reaches her ears and She scrambles to get up.

Sitting in a rocking chair in the corner of the room right next to the window is her mama. And cradled in her arms is a wailing baby, a frighteningly familiar wailing baby, the memories might be faded but she remembers what her youngest sister looks like as a baby, she'd been one of the first people to meet her, something that she used to tease everyone else with.

No, no please no. This can't be happening. It's a nightmare. It must be. It HAS to be. She wants to wake up now. Please let her wake up now. If she does wake up right now, no matter what time it is she'll go to the REAL Mirable and tell her how sorry she is. For everything. She'll get down on her knees and beg for forgiveness for being such a terrible sister, something she should have done a long time ago. Please please let this not be real.

She feels a hand on her shoulder and jerks away from it taking a step forward towards her Mama and the wailing nightmare baby only for the hand to come back and pull her backwards she turns to see who it is and comes face to face with her papa. He shakes his head at her and mouths 'not yet' pulling her backwards again, pulling her out of the room and into the hallway she struggles against him needing to go to her mama. She sees Luisa in the corner of her eye standing to the side of the doorway looking into the room tears streaming down her face nonstop. That causes her to stop her struggle.

Her papa guides her further down the hallway, grabbing Luisa's arm gently as they pass her to get her to follow him as well. She barely registers any of that her thoughts consumed by one thing.

She'll never be able to make up for what shes done.

IMG HIIII NICE TO SEE YOU <3333 no worries. Google Docs is a writers biggest op sometimes, I get it 💀💀 ALSO I NEED TO RELABEL ALL OF YOUR SNIPPETS SO THEY’RE EASIER TO FIND I KEEP FORGETTING I’M SORRY <\\\\3

Regardless. This is so radical. I mean home girl woke up,and found out bout what? 10 minutes later? That her youngest sister was a baby. AND SHE SAW IT FIRST FOR HERSELF 🫣 But at least she was remorseful?? Took all that but hey, it worked. Baby steps people,baby steps (pun entirely intended).

Thank God Agustín was there, cause with the way Mirabel reacted to Alma, God knows how she woulda reacted to Isabela 🌚

How do react to that 😮‍💨 and never say never‼️‼️‼️ clwarly they were given another chance fora reason, but maybe she’s too in shock to realize that 🤠

[usagimen]

Since Rebirth is soon, here is Sayuri’s old FF7 information.

Wutai, she’s the youngest twin who once lived in Wall Market. At a young age, she used her small stature to escape danger && collect information by hiding. By her teens she was working at her father’s materia shop while desperately trying to find a way to give her family a proper station. In hear early 20’s, she became a dancer at the Honey Bee Inn, using her enigmatic charm, she was able to steal important information from liquored Shinra employees.

Due to this particular endeavor, she was a target for sometime, though many within the community know her as someone who has good intentions yet puts on an impersonal front to protect herself. If one needs medicine, assistance in any way, or someone to just have tea with && assure you’re still breathing in the slums, she is the person. There are rumors for sometime that she taught the children at the Leaf House mathematics && songs, she’s known as their once big sister. 

Her recruitment was not easy as it came with Sayuri understanding she either accept the offer presented in front of her or that was the end. The essential knowledge of being a Turk is realizing one is essentially dead, hence, many speculate she went on to become a professional dancer && live a better life on top. Some believe she’s another ghost while her twin often speculates what happened considering their family was then swiftly moved to better conditions leaving him confused && speculating Sayuri isn’t dead, she’s hiding.

Lethal tongue, she doesn’t necessarily need weaponry to gain a victory. Her recruitment is solely on her charm, charisma, along with ability to be shrewd in political bargains. Essentially, she is a mouth piece of Shinra that extorts their power but the usage of blackmail && espionage. If Sayuri is on the field, it’s an emergency. Although, during Aerith’s escape, she mostly would check in to see if she was fine && offer her sweets or bottled tea, always smiling while refusing to bring her back.

Expert with firearms && knives, thigh holster that secures both, but she also slips a blade in her heels just for aesthetic reasons. Not the friendlier one of the Turks if there is such a thing, though she has hesitated twice, while showing utmost contempt after the plate drop. Sayuri is a conflicted woman, she views herself as a once foolish girl that wished to grasp the stars but when she did, like many, she just learned they were the artificial lights.

[yyeonmi]

🌷Hwayeon’s Backstory🌷

Background:

Hwayeon Miran was originally a member of the World Serpent’s elite team, dedicated to defending reality from interdimensional threats. Unfortunately, due to.. unforeseen circumstances, the entire team except for Hwayeon and another member were annihilated. However, unlike the others, Hwayeon did not truly perish. Instead, her soul was caught by the Korean goddess of life and rebirth, Jacheongbi, who took pity on her.

Jacheongbi recognized Hwayeon’s valor and believed that her work in the mortal realm was not yet complete. To give her a second chance at life, the goddess reincarnated Hwayeon as a gumiho (nine-tailed fox spirit), known for their cunning and supernatural abilities. Jacheongbi planted her into a human family in North Korea, erasing her memories of her past life and replacing them with a fabricated history. Her “family” – Na Yuna, Ji Sunhan, and her siblings Hyunjae and Aji – were created with false memories, designed to give Hwayeon a normal life while hiding her true nature.

Family and Early Life:

In this new life, Hwayeon was born as the youngest of three children to Na Yuna and Ji Sunhan. The tragedy of losing her younger sister Aji deeply affected the family, though this event was part of the illusion crafted by Jacheongbi to keep Hwayeon grounded in her human form. The fabricated memories provided Hwayeon with the necessary human experiences, emotions, and connections that would shape her future.

Hwayeon grew up in North Korea, knowing nothing of the world beyond its borders. However, a pivotal moment occurred when her ‘older brother’ Hyunjae betrayed their parents to gain favor with the government. He was granted a single wish: to defect safely with Hwayeon to Japan. This marked the beginning of her journey towards her true destiny.

Life in Japan and Joining the World Serpent (Reborn):

Once in Japan, Hwayeon excelled in her studies, graduating from Hokkaido University’s medical program. Despite her reincarnation, remnants of her past life subtly influenced her, driving her towards fields related to healing and combat. These latent memories and instincts made her an invaluable recruit for the World Serpent, even though she had no conscious knowledge of her previous involvement.

Later, after getting her access to their teleportation system updated, Hwayeon returned to Yokohama, where she discovered her brother’s corruption within the police force. The confrontation between them was inevitable, resulting in her arresting him and severing their already fragile bond.

Discovery of Her True Nature:

After hearing from a friend named Kaguya Fuma about how they knew each other in her past life, back in the old World Serpent, she traveled to South Korea and visited a temple of Jacheongbi, knowing that the aforementioned woman was the goddess of beauty and life. At the temple, Jacheongbi herself appeared to Hwayeon, finally telling her about her origins. The knowledge of her divine origins and her gumiho nature gave Hwayeon a renewed sense of purpose, blending her human compassion with the cunning and power of a gumiho.

Current Role:

In the present day, Hwayeon balances her dual identities, currently, she works for Felix III at the Rose Sword Hotel. Her encounters with Kotoko and Riki were no coincidence, as she felt a strong sense of kinship with them, likely due to their shared connection the new World Serpent. Taking on the role of their legal guardian, Hwayeon now protects and guides them.

Personality:

Hwayeon is calm, calculated, and often reserved. Her human upbringing makes her empathetic and compassionate, but her gumiho side gives her a sharp edge, allowing her to be ruthless when necessary. The duality of her nature is both her greatest strength and her deepest struggle as she continues to navigate a world that is far more complex than she initially believed.

Hwayeon is also known to be very kind and enjoys reading books and stories, although she also shows an obsessive side in making profits at the same time, sometimes she tends to suggest… interesting ways of getting money (NO NOT THE SUSPICIOUS STUFF.). She also has an enigmatic air around her, with those close to her growing used to it. When speaking with outsiders or close friends, she shows a blunter and more cynical side to her. Hwa does not mince words, even towards her friend and boss, Felix III. Being a gumiho, Hwa is fond of fried tofu. She despises pickled and sour foods of all sorts.

she's also very mischievous. She couples this mischievous streak with impressive skills of manipulation and reading people. As such her tricks and pranks are usually elaborate, long-winded affairs towards rather simple ends, which she does out of enjoyment and the fact that she enjoys watching people squirm. This has caused many people who do not know her closely to believe that she is “scary”.

@paintedgrilledcheese

@foxboyroadkill

@konnichiwasaku