#doc writes

He will recover or die. They will pay for the burial. Hughes was familiar. He’d been disgusted when the first investigation of a suicide came across his desk, with a little note about a weak mind. Roy’s file, he was sure, said the same, as they inevitably waited for Roy to kill himself, or die of illness like an underfed dog. They’d declared his major operations in Ishbal over and said he could do what he liked until needed. Which was mostly to destroy himself. ‘A weak mind’ he was sure Grand had written. 

Roy’s mind wasn’t weak at all, that was half the problem. It was dagger-sharp, and quick, stubborn as a mule and strong as two. Hughes had never thought what it might look like to have that mind turn on its owner. An impossible thing for him to imagine. 

Roy was going to die. He was so good at getting what he wanted. Hughes was good at puzzles, always had been, but this was something he could not puzzle out, the question of how to make Roy save himself. He had begged. And pleaded. Offered a dozen alternatives to what he was doing. Hawkeye had done everything she could. They had both fought this battle so hard, and Hughes could see they were losing it. 

He’d come up with this idea in the dead of night, alone in his room. 

He grabbed Hawkeye by the shoulders. “If anything goes wrong, I hope you can forgive me. But if you can’t. That’s okay too.” 

This season of life had given them nearly no gifts, but Hughes noticed she did not shy from his touch, now. She trusted him, he took it to mean. So that was something. He looked for the silver lining. 

“What are you doing?” She did trust him. It meant something. No matter what. 

“We have to try something else. It has to be me. I can’t tell you. I can’t.” Hughes shook his head. “Go get him a sandwich or something--no, something easy. Actually, no. Anything you think he might eat.” 

“That’s nothing.” She looked at him flatly. “I’ve tried. He won’t.”

“He used to love my Mom’s cream of mushroom soup.” He shrugged. “Anything like that. It can’t hurt. I’ll be here.” 

Only Hughes could have gotten her to agree to it. He watched her do the math, that Hughes loved Roy, that anything he did would be to help him. She nodded in seeming gratitude for the gift of a mission and a chance to step away from the scene of the disaster, and quickly clicked down the hallway. She would find it, if it could be reasonably had in Central. Or unreasonably. 

Hughes touched his hand to the doorknob of Roy’s door, and sighed, pressing his head against the wood. There was every chance in the world that this was not going to work, and this would simply be telling Roy goodbye. As he closed his eyes against the grain of the door, a dozen thoughts flashed through his mind, boys catching tadpoles in jars, wrapping up a hand when Roy had burned himself again, refusing to look at each other for the blush when discussing girls, laying on Hughes’ bed studying, lying in the grass under the stars, faces red, drunk for the first time, drunk for the last time, just before, singing at the top of their lungs. Roy’s bright laugh so loud and wide it took over his face. He felt a twist of anticipatory grief, in his heart. He swallowed it. 

Hughes opened the door. In the moment he had been pressing his head against the door, he had been steeling himself, and yet he still was taken back. The bed was made, the floor was swept--Hawkeye clearly busied herself scrubbing it--but Roy himself was a ruin. His eyes were hollow, his face drawn and pale. It looked like he hadn’t changed his clothes in days, the cavern of his collarbone visible under his half-buttoned shirt, bent over an alchemy book and drawing circles with the other hand without paying any attention to the pen drifting off the paper. There was a bottle in front of him, rotgut without a label, refusing to be dignified with a glass. He glanced up at Hughes disinterestly. 

“Shift change?” 

His eyes were dull. That squeezed at Hughes’ chest, more than any other thing. They had managed to extinguish every bright star in Roy’s eyes. It was sometimes very easy to understand the simmering and near-constant rage Hawkeye managed to keep buttoned up. When he looked at Roy’s eyes. 

Hawkeye trusted him, and that was nice. Now he might have to betray that. 

This was such a stupid idea. This was the only thing he could do. 

Hughes flung himself down into a chair, took the gun out of the holster, checked that it was loaded, and set it down on the table, pushing it over to Roy with a direct stare. 

“Well. Do it then. Come on. Get it over with. Do it and I’ll clean up the mess and bury you.” 

Roy sat back in the chair, giving Hughes his full attention now. The pen rolled off the desk, and clattered to the floor, the echo of it rocketing off the walls. With a shaking hand, Roy picked up the pistol and studied it. He pulled back the safety, and Hughes winced. 

“Well.” Hughes wiped at his face, his nose sniffling, and tried to set his jaw hard. “Get on with it.” A choked sob nearly broke, and he swallowed it. “Ignore that.” 

Roy turned the gun over in his hand. “If you want me to die, why are you crying?” 

“I do not want you to die. Dick.” A sniffle, a wipe. “Would I have done everything I’ve done, if I wanted you to die? I absolutely do not. But..” He took in a breath, half cursing himself for crying, half hoping Roy knew it meant something,  “If I have to bury you, I’d at least like to get it over with. Instead of waiting for you to starve yourself to death or drink yourself to death or whatever it is you’re doing here.” 

Roy set the gun down. ‘I’m not--”

Stubborn fucking mule, since they were kids. 

“Roy! I can count your goddamned ribs! I can smell the alcohol on you! I’m sitting at work, waiting every day to get a call that you finally collapsed, and there’s nothing they can do for you. I stare at my phone all day.  I can’t live this way anymore. So, if you’re going to break my heart, break it!  Don’t do it by degrees! It hurts! Break my heart and ruin Hawkeye’s life, if you have to, but at least have the courage to do it quickly. You owe me that. Do it to my face.” 

Roy scoffed. “I’m not ruining--”

“Oh yes you are!” He flung his finger across the table. “She’ll never fucking recover. You have no idea what you mean to her. To me. But respect us a little bit, a tiny fraction, and get it over with, if you have no intention of living! If you’re going to give up!” 

Roy stopped. He stared at the gun. With fear, with longing, with exhaustion, with a desire for absolution. He moved his hand toward it, and then took it back. Put his hand back in his lap. He sighed, reached for the slower suicide of the bottle instead and took a drink. He shook his head, staring at the table. 

“What’s the point?” 

Frustration and exhaustion crackled behind Hughes’ eyes. He was a gentle man, and a patient man, and the last few months had worn heavily on everyone’s best attributes. He felt something start to bend, and crack, inside him. 

“I am going to beat the shit out of you. You. You are the point.” 

“There’s nothing left of me.” he barely managed a shrug  “I’m already dead. What is there to--”

“You know what, Roy?” Hughes stood up and took off his glasses, tossing them on the table. “I’m done talking.” 

Roy barely had a moment to register confusion before Hughes’ hands were on him. There was no resisting. He slammed Roy into the bookcase, nearly tipping it over with the force of the blow, as he crumpled to the ground. A rush of pure satisfaction came over him.

He did not have to be a gentle or patient man. He could replace it with pain and fear. He could make Roy understand how he felt. Pain and fear. 

Hughes grabbed Roy by the shoulder and punched him in the jaw. Roy tried to crawl away, but Hughes was too fast, and his reach was too long, and Roy was too weak to mount any sort of defense. He latched onto Roy’s leg, pulled him back and hoisted him up, his arm tight around Roy’s neck, locked. 

“You want to die?” He yelled in Roy’s ear, felt him wince. “Okay! Can do, buddy!” 

He leaned back against a chair, Roy’s toes barely scraping the floor.

Roy clawed at his arm, tried elbowing him in the gut, wriggled against him. Desperately fought for a breath. To no avail. He may well been a kitten. 

“Oh, you want to live now?”  

After a few long brief seconds, Hughes dropped him to the floor, where he choked and sputtered and gasped. 

“What’s the point? I’ll tell you the point.” 

Hughes flipped him onto his back in an easy twist, refusing to give him even a moment to breathe, and pinned him down. 

“Because we love you! Asshole!” He dripped a tear onto Roy. “This has been going on for MONTHS, and the only thing that’s changed is that you’ve added a long, slow suicide to the really fun bursts of trying to get there fast. We don’t want you to die! I don’t want you to die! Don’t let them fucking win, Roy! Don’t let them break you! I know that you having a really, really hard time. But you are the most stubborn person I know! Hang on! We are trying to pull you up a cliff and you need to at least hang on.” He shook Roy against the floor. “Make a fucking effort!” 

The silence hung between them, and Hughes released Roy’s shoulders, still straddling him but rocking back onto his heels. He’d always been able to beat Roy handily, in a physical match. But it been funny, before. Roy was so quick-witted, and had the alchemy, and it could just be teasing. But now, the anger ebbing, it began to feel cruel. Roy’s grip on life was so fragile. Hughes could see his heart pounding through his shirt. He was so weak. Hughes had hurt him. 

Roy wasn’t lying when he’d once drunkenly muttered that you wake up one day and realize your hands are covered in blood. He would never hurt Roy intentionally. Except when he did. 

“I’m sorry.” Roy’s eyes were closed. “ I want--to want to live. But. I don’t know if I can.” 

“Try.” Hughes swung his leg over and knelt down by Roy, whose eyes fluttered open. “I will fight for you. Every single day. I just need you to fight too. A little. I know your mind has turned on you. And it’s sharp. Boy, do I wish your mind was less quick. But you don’t have to die, Roy. Please listen to me. Come on.” 

 He abandoned any sense of restraint--he had done it anyway, with the hitting, which he hadn’t meant to do, so he may as well abandon it a direction he preferred--and scooped Roy up into his arms as easily as a doll, laying Roy’s head against his shoulder. 

“You don’t have to die. You do not have to die. I want you to live. You want you to live, I promise. Fuck Grand. You can’t get him if you die. Fight alongside me. We’ll take him down. Plenty of people will help you. We can turn this thing around. But you have to try. If you have ever loved me at all. If you appreciate everything Hawkeye’s given up for you. Try.” 

Normally, Roy had only a passing tolerance for Hughes’ physically affectionate nature. So it came as a surprise to Hughes when he simply stayed there, quiet, head on his shoulder. A clock ticked in the background. Outside, the sun was setting, tired from its long day of baking the grass to brown. Roy wrapped his arms around Hughes, still silent, which Hughes took for the desperate cry it was, and held him a little tighter, ruffling the back of his hair. 

“Okay. Okay.” Roy whispered, and Hughes felt something wet and hot on his neck. “I’ll try. But--” 

“Just keep fighting. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

“God,” Roy tried to push himself to sitting, “You’re such a big girl.” 

Hughes smiled, and steadied him. ‘All the time. Absolutely. Will not stop. It’s why I had to learn to fight.” he wiped at his face. “I was never going to give up crying. A man needs his vices.” 

Hawkeye came through the door, impressively quick for a difficult ask, though Hughes never really found himself surprised at her skill anymore. She had a tureen in one hand, and a baguette in the other, and an expression of confusion on her face mixed with a teaspoon of concern. 

“Hawkeye,” Roy cleared his throat, “I think I need a shower.” 

Hawkeye set down the soup on the table so fast her nod was lost in the rush of activity, a spark of hope in her eyes as she went to turn on the tap. As Roy half-heartedly washed his hair, Hawkeye laid out a grey t-shirt that was too big for Roy in the best of times, but soft and clean, alongside some cotton pants. September was an awkward month. The days were hot but the nights were cool. She laid an extra blanket on the bed. She took the half empty bottle and poured it out the window. 

Then she stood in front of Hughes, who was sitting on Roy’s bed, and reached out to squeeze his shoulder. Impossible show of intimacy.

“Thank you.” 

Hughes looked up, beginning to realize just how tired he was. But she trusted him. That was nice. “I can’t ever tell you what I did. It was….stupid” 

“Tell me when the Major improves.” Hawkeye considered a moment, “If it works, it won’t be stupid.”

She gave a small, tense nod, and then went to find a spoon somewhere in the room. Stream rolled out of the bathroom, and Hughes rose to his feet, grabbing the tshirt. 

Roy was still slightly dripping as he sat in front of his soup, Hawkeye trying to make a better effort of drying his hair. He picked up the spoon, hand shaking, and took a bite before setting it down. 

“Everything tastes like ash.” He looked over at Hughes, and then over his shoulder at Hawkeye.

“Well, Major,” Hawkeye sat down next to him. “You smell better.” 

“I will eat it. Just. Nothing tastes like anything.” 

Roy dug up something from deep inside him. “What will I do with all these compliments?” 

He took another bite of soup. Hughes watched Roy doing the only thing he’d asked. He was trying. He was fighting back. Sometimes a fight is won bite by bite. No ship is saved by a single sailor. Hughes had never imagined the level of joy he could feel looking at an empty bowl. 

Hawkeye did not take a moment to celebrate--she seemed too afraid the spell would break--and guided Roy over to the bed, throwing back the faded blankets. 

“It’s so cold.” He lay back on the pillow, purple bags under his eyes. “I’m so tired. I can’t sleep. When I do, I hear--I can’t.” 

“Try. Just close your eyes.” Hughes pushed in his chair at the table. 

“I feel like I’m going to float away.” 

“Not with us here.” Hughes scooted him over and climbed in next to him, his arm around him. 

Roy gave a deep sigh and stared at the ceiling. Hawkeye crawled over the end of the bed, her boots thumping onto the ground as she kicked them off, and rested on Roy’s other side. 

“No promises.” He rubbed at his face with a groan. “I can’t fall asleep. I can’t--When I do, I start to hear things.” 

“Don’t worry, Roy,” Hughes chirped “this is all a scam for you to owe me for the rest of your life. I’m counting on your meteoric rise to offer me a comfortable retirement. Which is why I need your life to be long.” 

“Listen to me.” 

Hughes expected to say it. It was the kind of thing he would say. He was perfectly happy to--and would, many times, over the course of their lives--chat aimlessly, or with the perfect level of annoyance and demand, and distract Roy from the ruts his mind fell into. The ability to aggravate Roy out of a spiral would become among his most prized skills. 

But it wasn’t him. 

Hawkeye looked at Hughes. She was such a difficult person to read. It was by design, he knew, years of learning that it was better to hide your cards. Some people grew up playing backalley poker while he grew up playing a cozy game of Uno with the family. She was kinder than she let on. Her affections ran deeper. He wouldn’t let her know he knew that. It would only embarrass her. 

Hawkeye gave a decisive nod, and began to sing. 

Hawkeye was nails tough, solid, the consummate soldier with terrifying accuracy and uncommon observational skills. She was born for specialist work. Neat and reliable. Intense and focused. Hughes could not have imagined what it might sound like to hear her sing. It was like imagining the song of a hawk. He expected the screech a rabbit hears last. 

But then again, he had expected Roy to take him up on his bullet-based offer. It was a day of the miraculous. 

Her voice was beautiful. Soft and clear and calm, sparkling with all the gentleness of a crystal held to candlelight. Hughes’ mouth fell a little open. Hawkeye did not make eye contact with him. Roy, either having heard it before or too exhausted to care about the discovery of a muse in their midst, had his eyes closed and began to relax, his breath deep and slow. 

The last few years of Hughes’ life had been strange ones. Strange bad, mostly, though he clung to the little bits of good in them. He had gone from being a wiry kid sitting by the side of a creek, hoping he could score high enough to get accepted into Investigations and Intelligence, with his impulsively foolish genius friend, to seeing atrocities cross his desk daily, so few of them pursued, knowing the alchemists were doing half of them at least, imagining how that could possibly be Roy. And here they were. Roy had done terrible things, and terrible things had been done to him, and maybe he deserved to be destroyed for what he’d done, but Hughes was far past believing that life was about what we deserve. Roy hadn’t deserved to be ordered to obey or die in the first place. He hadn’t. 

The joke in his family was that Roy had learned fire alchemy because nothing about him was big but his mouth. He was too smart for his own good, and too proud. He possibly needed to be taken behind the woodshed, Hughes’ father had opined, not unkindly. Roy was an arrogant little shit who picked fights above his weight class, and always had. 

And Hughes loved him. Love was the only thing he still believed in. Justice felt wavering, Courage ephemeral, but Love, Love he knew was real, and mattered, every single day. Roy was his flaws, but he was his virtues, too. THe whole of his life, he had a ready defense of Roy in his mind. He’d used his wit to defend other kids, when they were boys. He was charming and funny.  He had singlehandedly passed most of the Hughes clan in Latin with patient lessons. He played the piano for dances and he laughed and laughed. Did Grand know any of that, before he tried to destroy him? The way he smiled when he was truly happy? 

Hawkeye’s song faded out, Roy deep in sleep, relaxed, finally, and Hughes prayed to anyone listening that dreams wouldn’t find him tonight. He very nearly complimented Hawkeye, before deciding that--and he would always hate this about her--she would prefer he said nothing to the embarassment of a kind word. She nestled in on Roy's pillow, desperately and wordlessly. 

Nothing was fixed that day. There is no real magic, in this world. Roy continued to struggle, to fight his way out of the well, to beat back the feeling that he should not be. There were a few near misses. But he woke up in the morning, and, mostly, he got dressed. He had a coffee. He choked down food. He faced the day, and he conquered it. He lived for months by the small motto of, ‘Not today. Maybe tomorrow. But not today.”  

The working, the trying, was enough. Hughes and Hawkeye shuttled him outside, and annoyingly, the sun on his face did feel good. Slowly, life began to seem bearable. The first time Hughes saw him reading a novel again, he was so excited by it that he distracted Roy from actually enjoying the novel. Hawkeye left fresh notebooks and newly-inked pens on Roy’s desk. He kept living. Hawkeye got a remarkable talent for being a quiet presence during a long night. Hughes was unmatched at his ability to talk Roy through one of his fits. But Roy himself kept his word, and tried. He learned to let a wave pass over him. The three of them fought together, and kept it at bay.

One day the soup tasted like food again. One day he laughed at one of Hughes’ stupid jokes. One day he held his head up in a meeting, looking directly at Grand. 

MIHAWK —

With the way your thighs squeeze around him when he’s getting ready to pull out, and that small, barely noticeable pouty look in your eyes when he cums outside of you and on your skin in various places, Mihawk’s had his suspicions about the possibility of you having this kink.

He wants to hear you say it though. If there’s any possibility that you desire for him to cum inside nearly as much as he’s wanted and fantasized about it, he wants to hear you beg for it.

“I’m close, mi amor. Where do you want my cum?”

He can tell it’s on the tip of your tongue, but you’re still hesitant to ask, instead hiding behind your moans and whimpers, but he won’t have it. All gentleness emanating from Mihawk’s love making halts as you feel his intense golden eyes, fiery with lust and demanding your obedience, staring down at you.

“I know you want me to breed you, darling. I want it too. But I’m not giving you anything until I hear you say it.”

When you give in and sob out your desire for him to fill you full with his cum, he eagerly obliges. Grips your legs to spread them wide open and fucks you into the mattress with a power so raw, you see stars when you cum.

He lets out the nastiest moan when he cums inside for the first time. Such a noise from a usually stoic man has a second orgasm beginning to tingle through you, and the two of you bask in the intimacy of you accepting every drop of his load. You hold each other close and breathe into each other’s skin as you calm your racing hearts.

Will most definitely hold your legs back while the cum settles, whispering countless Thank yous and I love yous then realizing that, despite cumming so much, the aching in his cock has far from disappeared, and he finds himself rutting, eager to pump another load into you.

The idea of knocking you up right now, belly soon to be swollen with your shared child makes him a bit more feral than he’d ever expected. He can’t possibly think of anything else when he fills you with his cum from here on out.

Mihawk really has wanted this for so long. To mark you as his in the most carnal fashion. Spilling his seed anywhere other than deep within your warm, pulsating cunt seems entirely wasteful to him now. Plus it’s less messy Good luck getting him to cum anywhere else <3

SHANKS —

He’s well aware of his own breeding kink (mf raw dogs it up and down the Grand Line), so he’s actually the one to bring it up.

Shanks gets so pussydrunk off you, he can’t help but babble on and on about how good you feel, especially when you ride him. He’s got a strong grip on your waist, aiding in your movements as you bounce on his cock, using him to chase your high.

In the heat of the moment, when he can feel himself getting dangerously close to cumming, he shamelessly confesses how he wants to pump your sweet pussy full of his cum.  

He of course would never do anything you’re uncomfortable with, so if you were to say no, he’d easily paint your chest or cute belly with his seed instead, no complaints. He enjoys marking you like that.

But when you look at him wide-eyed, nodding a vehement Yes, he’s unbelievably ecstatic. He’s honestly wanted to cum inside you since the day you two first started being intimate.

“Oh? You want me to fill this cunt up then, huh? Want me to fuck a baby into you?”

He doesn’t miss the way your body reacts so beautifully to him. Pussy clamping tightly around him at his words, your hips grinding against him much more sporadic and desperate, your sweet begging for him to give you all of his cum. Shanks’ believes his purpose in this world is to give you everything your heart desires. He’d gladly do his part in giving you a baby if that’s what you really wanted.

Mental images of you glowing with his baby inside you have him slamming your hips down as he shoots thick ropes of his cum deep inside, moaning out praise after praise as he talks about how perfect of a mommy you’ll be. How he’s gonna take such good care of you and give you all the babies you want. Breed you till you can’t possibly take anymore.

You hardly have time to revel in the feeling of his warm cum making home within you before he flips you onto your back and into a mating press as he begins fucking all the cum that’s seaped out back into you.

“There, now I can breed you properly.”

SMOKER —

Had not known what a breeding kink was until you introduced it to him, which proves to be beneficial because you both quickly realize that he too has a breeding kink.

Finds out about your kink when he’s balls deep inside and you’re so lost in pleasure that you cry out for him to give you a baby.

He pauses because he’s unsure if he heard you correctly. But if he had…you words echo endlessly in his head and there’s a sudden painful aching in his cock. He’s harder, much harder than he’s ever been before, and he needs to cum now. But he wants to hear you say it again first.

When you repeat your words so sweetly, he immediately pulls out to rip off the condom with demonic speed, and stuffs every inch of himself back into you with just as much haste. The wind is nearly knocked out of you and you can feel the intense shudder of his body as he inhales a shaky breath at feeling all of you around him, completely bare.

He’s a little embarrassed at how quickly he’s close to cumming, but how could he not be when you’re gushing and squeezing around him like this? Feeling your gummy walls snug against him, hugging him and begging to milk his cock, he can’t even try to fight the dam that’s threatening to break.

Slams himself as far as he can reach inside of you (as if he’s not ramming against your cervix already), pelvis flush against your own you can’t help but to try to crawl away from the sudden force, but he holds you firmly as he releases perhaps the heaviest load he’s ever given in his life. There’s so much of it, it immediately spills out from you when he pulls out.

“Can’t breed you if you don’t keep my cum inside you, sweetheart. Be a good girl and take all of it this next time, alright?”

No worries about him cumming too early, because he’s right back at it, pushing the cum back in with his fingers before sheathing his cock back inside to fuck another load into you. Keeps you pinned underneath him, folded back in a mating press, giving you load after load until there’s no feasible way you don’t end up pregnant. <3

“Want my babies? Don’t worry, we’re not leaving this bed until I’m sure I’ve knocked up my pretty girl like she wants.”

LAW —

Your kink comes to light during a late night confession. The two of you were casually discussing your sex lives; what things you really liked and any kinks you possibly wanted to explore.

He admits that he is not overly fond of the idea of getting you actually pregnant (yet?), so he’ll play into the fantasy only if some form of contraceptive is involved. He finds how desperate you are for him to fill you to the brim with his cum incredibly sexy and therefore hard to resist. Plus, he’s a little intrigued by this kink himself.

He wasn’t expecting to lose all control when he felt you around him for the first time with no barrier. He’d always heard condom-less sex was top tier, but nothing could have prepared him for this euphoric intimacy.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good like this.”

He’s contemplating throwing out his entire stash of condoms now because holy shit nothing in this world could possibly feel better than your warm, wet, and tight pussy squeezing his cock for dear life as you cum around him.

He cums immediately after; pulling you, practically crushing you, into him as he holds you still, his cock throbbing painfully from cumming so much. He’s panting in your ear, whispering lots of praises for letting him fill you up like that.

When he looks down to see some of his cum leaking out of your clenching hole, a primal instinct is unlocked within him. Fucks himself into overstimulation because he’s now addicted to the feeling of cumming inside you and watching the cum leak out just to fuck it right back into you. It’s a long night as he releases load after load and you’re aching and sobbing from overstimulation whimpering about it being too much.

“Isn’t this what you wanted? Weren’t you begging for me to breed you just a second ago like a dumb little whore?”

He’s a little mean but fuck, he has one more in him. Just let him fill you up one more time. The two of you have made an absolute mess on the sheets below, and as he sees the sticky abundance of your shared cum frothing around his dick, you both determine that he’s enjoying putting that contraceptive to the test perhaps a little too much.

Oh and here is Opal

So background

First off, she is like 4,000 years old

She comes from a noble celestial family who were once demons but gained the favor of the Jade Emperor by helping him through their Far Sight.

Far Sight is their ability to see everything all at once, from the heavens to the underworld. No one can escape their vision. And they can document everything they have seen and even use a ritual to make recordings of what they have seen and stash it away for later reference. And with this, they became the official family used for guard posts all around the world.

For Yujin here, she was kinda an outcast the moment she was born. Over the centuries, her family was ashamed of their demonic ancestry, building an image of holiness and total loyalty to the Emperor since the beginning. And with that, Yujin was more like her demonic ancestors, with her blue skin, snaggle tooth, and hug frame (she's like 7'6). It also didn't help that her silver hair would fade to a red for some inexplicable reason (workshopping that).

So she has been under their thumb since the beginning, her family trying to push her to be a more studious person focusing on researching her past relatives like her cousin. But she wanted adventure, and wanted to prove how strong she was.

After a tiff with the Princess Iron Fan (they got into an argument and it went to the fists flying stage), the Jade Emperor took notice of her and pushed her parents to let her get a job. They relented, and now she guards the Samadhi Temple.

Through this, she met Redson and essentially is an older sister to him and his companion Sol (a friends OC which I will include in her story a fair bit)

"but what about Season 3? How will the gang get things done if she's there?"

Ah, now that's where the story really starts my friend

Abilities/ Weapons:

Weapon: she has a weapon called the Ever Changing Wind which has 72 transformations to whatever she desired that she got from a friend a few millennial ago. She mostly uses it in its whip form as seen here

(yes ik this looks weird, old drawing + I cut off a bit to not show spoilers in story)

Abilities: She has fast healing, Far Sight, can glamor herself to an extent, change her height at will, and because of her lineage, she has some dormant powers that have not awakened yet that she doesn't even know about. Also she is super strong as well, lifting boulders like they are pebbles.

Relationships:

Basically a surrogate daughter to the DBK family as she has been in their employment since Redson birth, and is an older sister to Reds and Sol

She doesn't show in the main gangs stori until season 3, cause duh. So no relation there

"But does she have a partner?"

Nope! But she does have some feelings for people. On the old friends that gifted her the Ever Changing Wind in the first place actually! But she hasn't been in contact with either of them for a long time.....

Personality:

Oh the best big sis anyone can get. Shes a little alcoholic when it comes to social events or with her parents, her preferred drink of choice is diluted peach wine ;), and she is described as a badass by many

She does have a nasty side as well though, she had been known to throw the Jade Emperors personal guards around when they got a little too comfortable with their words.

But she is also a tease as well, picking on Reds in that older sister fashion. And she extremely over protective over Redson and the DBK family s a whole, which is often looked down upon by her parents because they see no need for her to be so protective over them, they gave so much more power! How could they need her when she's so weak compared to them???

(oh the irony)

She doesn't enjoy the company of her family members all that much except for her cousin Jiayin. But she's been a good guard so far, so her parents stay off her case. But her 500 year anniversary of her job is coming up, which means a new era for her to... Be pushed into essentially.

So she's very protective over her position as well, it being the only reason she's allowed out of her familys temple in the first place.

Also she's very closed off to new people a lot of the time, and not opening up until she gets to know you and your motives, which you will see why later. But if her little bro trusts them, then hell, they must be the next Messiah or smth