a-midnight-rabbit-writes - Tumblr blog

[a-midnight-rabbit-writes]

This is great. I’m going to Win at Boop, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve.

[a-midnight-rabbit-writes]

Can I barely afford food right now? Yes. Am I STILL budgeting for wine?? Absolutely. (I'll literally go insane)

[a-midnight-rabbit-writes]

PINNED POST PLEASE READ

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This blog will primarily cater to queer fanfiction, (i.e. mlm, wlw, trans x any, etc.) and will also contain 18+/NSFW content. PLEASE BE PATIENT WITH REQUESTS!!!

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Current Fandoms:

💜💜 Twisted Wonderland

💜💜 Genshin Impact

💜💜 SVSSS

💜 Tokyo Ghoul

💜 Legend of Korra

Things I am OKAY writing:

✨Fluff

✨Angst/Hurt-No Comfort

✨ 18+ themes/nsfw

✨ darker themes (i.e. self-harm, suicide, cannibalism, blood/gore, torture, death)

Things I will NOT write:

🚫 Male x Fem!Reader insert (with exceptions made for IRLs and Mutuals)

🚫 Incest/Pedophilia

🚫 Rape/Non-con/Dubcon/Underage

🚫 Yandere

🚫 Transfemme Vil and/or Epel (TWST)

DO NOT INTERACT:

Pedos/Zoophiles, Proshippers, homo/transphobes, Nazis, Zionists, fujoshis, people who headcanon Vil and/or Epel as Transfemme

***This blog will contain 18+ content and themes that may not be suitable for minors. I ask that minors do not interact with content labeled 18+, as this VIOLATES the LAW and you WILL be BLOCKED***

[a-midnight-rabbit-writes]

Eternally Yours

Lilia x Male!Reader

Traveling the world decades before the birth of Briar Valley’s draconic prince, a lonesome fae general’s forbidden romantic affair ends in tragedy

CW: MINOR SPOILERS FOR BOOK SEVEN, blood, character death, religious guilt, angst, hurt no comfort

Word count: 538

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The anguished howl of your name was the only thing that disturbed the eerily peaceful slumber of the forest.

There was no moonlight to reflect off the sharp silver blade that lay abandoned at your feet, its task now completed by whatever unclean hand that had wielded it. Your garments were defiled by a horrid dark stain, so deep a red that in the night-cloaked mountains of the Shaftlands it appeared almost black. The staggering rise and fall of your chest began to slow as you fought for your last remnants of consciousness.

“Lilia?” You croaked, as the fae fell to his knees at your side, your unfocused eyes meeting his.

The humble wooden rosary that the fae had never once seen you without, even during your lovemaking sessions, now lay discarded upon the forest floor, the cord snapped as if brutally torn from your neck during a struggle, wooden beads scattered in the darkness, some now stained with red. Lilia could still see you so clearly, only days before, fingers delicately trailing across the beads, one by one, his sharp fae hearing picking up your quiet murmurs of prayer as he watched you from afar, fixated on your familiar form.

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, Amen.

Immersing himself in his travels after the death of his beloved lifelong friends, Briar Valley’s princess and her husband, the former general had eventually found himself traversing the Shaftlands, wandering between large cities, and some smaller mountain towns. You had been only one of many missionaries sent out from Fleur City that Lilia had come across during these times, and yet you were the only one who had ever stood out to him. The only man who ever seemed to draw him in, in a way that he had never quite been enticed before. He still felt little love for the human race as a whole; that feeling was reserved for you alone, though he swore that those words would never pass his lips.

Neither of you were quite sure of when it started, or how, two men, a human and a fae, became so passionately intertwined. Lilia had no interest in the words that filled the worn, leather-bound book you carried with you. It was only your lips on his that ever seemed to set his heart ablaze.

It was a sin, you had told him countless times, between panting breaths, and interlocked lips and fingers brushing exposed skin. Legs entangled in forbidden bliss, hands anchored on hips hard enough to leave dappled reminders of midnight affairs upon your skin come the morning light as you feebly attempted to brush off the shame that was so clearly illuminated by the rising sun.

Gently cradling your head in his hands, his fingers smeared with your drying blood, Lilia choked out your name as a steady chill began to sink its fangs deep within you.

“Lilia…” You responded weakly, a thin stream of red trickling past your lips. The light in your eyes was swiftly leaving, but your unfaltering gaze never left his.

“I’m more than willing,” you whispered, your voice now barely there. “To rot in Hell with you.”

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A/N: was in an angsty mood on the train, and happened to be listening to Eternally Yours by Motionless In White, so that’s where this came from. As usual, reblogs/comments are always appreciated!!

[a-midnight-rabbit-writes]

Hi are requests open if so could I request a user that shows affection by thing like bitting, if possible could it be male user x vil

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Thank you so much for the request!!! This is my first time writing with a request, and I’m still working out my particular writing “voice” so I do hope that this fulfills what you were hoping for!!! (I also wasn't entirely sure how exactly I wanted to go about writing your request but wanting to bite Vil is definitely a mood tbh)

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Vil x Male!Reader

Vil and his partner, who shows affection through biting, cuddle after the model and Pomefiore Housewarden has been absent for a few days.

CW:  none

Word count:  422

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Vil was enrobed in a soft, silken pajama set, in a lovely pastel purple hue, a matching cover wrapping his blond hair for the night as he relaxed in his bed, your bare chest pressed against his clothed one as the two of you lay together, comfortable and warm.  It was beyond pleasant, being so close to your lover again, limbs entangled within the luxuriously soft sheets as you both rested, having been separated for the past few days.  While still prioritizing his studies at Night Raven College, Vil had as of late taken just a few more modeling gigs than he had in the recent past, leaving him more frequently absent from Pomefiore, and leaving his eccentric vice-housewarden in charge.  

Shifting his position next to you ever so slightly, Vil’s pajama shirt fell to the side of his shoulder as he pressed himself just a bit closer to you, the draping fabric exposing one of his collarbones.  His soft, unblemished skin was always so enticing.  Sleepily, you found yourself leaning forward, nose brushing against your partner's shoulder in the darkness of his room.

Lips set against his soft, pale skin, you sank your teeth into the flesh around his exposed collarbone, not deep enough to draw blood, or even cause an overt amount of pain, but just enough that there would be a visible mark left over, one that might even linger in the morning if you were lucky.  Despite Vil’s past warnings about leaving visible marks where others might see them, attempting to keep your relationship safe from the prying public eye, he had grown surprisingly used to your particular brand of affection, and was of course most adept at covering any of your such markings with his makeup should the situation require it.

Pulling back to rest your head against your pillow, you saw Vil’s beautiful violet eyes, half lidded, and clouded with sleep peering at you from only inches away.

“Sweet potato,” he mumbled.  “My love.  What are you doing?”

“Mmmmm.  Nothing.”  You responded languidly, suppressing a yawn as you re-settled yourself comfortably within the bedding next to him, lips brushing against his forehead as you draped your arm across his relaxed form, your fingers settling just underneath his silken shirt, pressed into the small of his back.  Vil relaxed into the familiarity of your touch, one hand pressed against the bare skin of your chest, the other resting gently upon your hip as the two of you drifted off to sleep together, warm in each other’s embrace.

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As always, comments/reblogs appreciated!!

[a-midnight-rabbit-writes]

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Rook Hunt x Male!Reader

A lover of all things beautiful, Rook Hunt wouldn’t dream of shying away from the chance to watch you practice your newest figure-skating routine, sans invite, of course.

CW:  brief mention of past character death 

Word Count: 1171

A/N:  This drabble is brought to you by the yearly reawakening of my Yuri On Ice obsession

(Still patiently waiting for Ice Adolescence cuz I'm delulu)

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The spinning of the empty arena around you halted as your skates made contact with the ice again, gliding forward on its smooth, frozen surface as you prepared yourself for your next jump.  You could clearly see your breath in front of you, panting in the frigid air, as you realized that you were a bit more out of practice than you had previously thought.

An avid figure skater in your old world, though perhaps nothing overly extraordinary, you were no Olympian, it had been several months past your arrival at NRC when you had finally learned that Sage Island had a small ice skating rink of its own.  Skating around one of the school’s frozen ponds with your classmates on a rather nice day set in the deepest part of Winter you had mentioned in passing to the other freshmen that back in your world you had several years of experience on the ice, and had lamented the loss of your ability to continue with your regularly scheduled practice routine.  (Though surely your body was grateful for the temporary hiatus.)  Cue Epel dragging you down to the city center the following day, right up to the doors of the Sage Island Ice Rink.

It didn’t take you very long to become familiar with the owner of the rink, a kindly older woman who had been quite the figure skater herself in her youth, trophies and plaques displayed next to black and white photographs behind the skate rental counter, and who eventually gave you permission to come by the rink after closing whenever your homework load let up enough that you had the spare time to re-immerse yourself in your sport.

And so here you were, just you, the ice, your music playlist, and a lurking Rook Hunt who was not even trying to hide the fact that he was watching you skate.  Drifting backwards past the section where he was seated, a prime spot right in the front, you raised your eyebrows slightly at him in curiosity, receiving his signature cheery smile in return.  Shaking your head teasingly, you turned your attention back to the set you were currently working on.

You had been attempting to choreograph this one back home, to one of your favorite pieces of music, a lively piano and violin piece that you no longer had access to here in a whole different world.  Back then, you had been struggling with just how to fit together the last few pieces of your performance, somehow every time failing to compose it in a way that felt just right.  Yet right here you were twirling through the air and sliding across the ice in a perfectly seamless transition from one step to another, to a whole new musical composition, one you could have never heard until landing yourself in Twisted Wonderland.  As if it were some strange destiny that you bring your artistic vision to fruition only after having woken up in this peculiar, dangerous, beautiful land.  

Ever so graceful off of the ice, the last thing that you could remember before falling out of that magical coffin and into Night Raven College’s first year ceremony was tripping over your own feet in the arena locker room after a competition, the world abruptly going black as your head made harsh contact with the very edge of the changing room bench.  You would never admit this aloud to anyone though.  You knew that Ace would never let you live it down if he got word that you went out in such a way.

As the music slowly came to a finish, you found yourself sliding to a gentle stop at the edge of the arena, your skates stilling right in front of where your upperclassman was perched, no longer in his seat but instead leaning over the wall, chin resting in his hand, his intense emerald gaze fixed upon your figure.

“What a simply marvelous performance, Prince de la Glace.”  Rook exclaimed, as you braced your hands on your knees, letting your upper body droop as you caught your breath after such intense exercise.  “Such passion in your performance!  C’est trop bien!  Your confidence upon the ice has re-emerged like a bright spring flower blossoming through fallen snow.”

Anybody else wouldn’t have been able to tell if you were flushed from embarrassment, or from the stinging chill of the ice rink, but you were certain that Rook knew, with those uncanny green eyes that seemed to stare right past the surface every time the two of you happened to make eye contact.  (Which happened more frequently than you cared to admit.)  You supposed it could be unnerving, everyone else seemed to be in agreement that the Pomefiore vice housewarden was peculiar, to say the least.  Most tried to avoid him.  However, you were doubtful that there was ever a quarry that could elude the evasive hunter.  You must have been a bit odd yourself, not minding that you had caught his attention.

“You only ever visit the rink to watch me skate,” you remarked, standing yourself upright again, and meeting the hunter’s sharp eyes.  “Maybe you’d like to try it out for yourself for once?” 

You gestured to the small expanse of ice behind you.

Fetching a pair of ice skates in Rook's size, the other student allowed you to tie his laces for him before you led him out onto the ice. Skating in a group with friends had always been enjoyable, but this was something quite different. 

There was always something so much more intimate about sharing the ice with just one other person.  There was also the excitement at the thought that you might get to watch the normally graceful hunter fall flat on his ass.  Truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

You tried not to smile at the thought, prepared to aid your classmate should he end up sprawled on the ice.  Yet it turned out that the self-proclaimed Chasseur D’Amour was more sure on his feet than you had previously anticipated, remaining perfectly poised and balanced only a few steps behind you, leaving you to wonder if this was truly his first time on the ice as he had led you to believe.

Instead, it was you, the veteran figure skater, who lost your balance first, a surprised gasp stealing the air from your lungs as your feet slipped out from under you, sending you tumbling backwards.  In that split-second, you had prepared yourself for the jolting pain that usually came with such harsh contact with the frozen surface beneath you, however that moment never came to pass.  Instead of the frozen ice of the rink, you felt a warm pair of well muscled arms wrap around you, your back bumping against Rook’s chest as he caught you.

“Quelle tragédie!”  Rook exclaimed, his arms snug around your waist.  “It would appear that you have fallen for me, my dear Prince de la Glace!”

This time there would be no blaming your reddened cheeks on the ice.

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Thank you for reading! Likes/comments/reblogs always appreciated!!

🐇♥️🐇

[a-midnight-rabbit-writes]

Kisses and Cabernet

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Vil x Male!Reader

A shy, wine-drunk reader realizes that the feelings they have for a close friend are far from platonic

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CW: consumption of alcohol, intoxication, no pronouns used but reader is implied to be male

Word count: 566

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He was laughing at you.

Vil Schoenheit was laughing at you.  And you for whatever reason just couldn’t find it in yourself to be angry or even moderately displeased about it.  

Lifting yourself from the place where you had stumbled to the floor, you guided yourself back to your chair, an inebriated wobble gracing your steps as you settled back into your spot across the table from the other man.

You could feel your heart skipping erratically in your chest, and a warmth blossoming across your cheeks, both a side effect of the wine and embarrassment you told yourself, nothing more.  It was certainly not because of the giddy blond in front of you, who had slowly been letting his ever-present facade rest on the occasions that the two of you had come to spend time alone together.  Occasions that you had noticed were becoming more frequent, of late.

You reach for your half-empty glass of wine, sitting on the edge of the table, the contents of the glass, some variety of red wine, more than likely something with quite the price tag on it, knowing Vil’s penchant for settling upon nothing but the best.  Having spent the last while lost in conversation with your former classmate, you had lost track of not only time, but just how many glasses you’d had.  You briefly wondered just how many madols worth of wine you had consumed this evening.

“I think you’ve had quite enough of that for tonight, my dear sweet potato.”  Vil stated, stifling his laughter and regaining his composure as he refocused his lilac eyes onto you.  You were certain that at this moment his eyes outshone even the glimmering golden eyeshadow that he had dusted on his eyelids for this evening.  Had that particular shade of purple always been quite so lovely?  You were sure that you had always been more partial to other colors.

Realizing that you had been staring for several moments too long you tore your gaze away from his, feeling your face warm anew, your cheeks burning even more this time.

“Is something the matter dear potato?”  Having had a glass or two of wine himself, Vil couldn’t hide the teasing lilt in his voice.  Or perhaps he could, he was a world-class actor after all.  Across from him, you must have been dying.  The frantic palpitations in your chest accompanied a sudden lack of oxygen as you attempted in vain to regain a semblance of collectedness under the model’s playful gaze.  You shut your eyes, taking a shallow breath.

“Everything’s fine.” You assured him, none too convincingly.

In a more serious tone this time he spoke your name.

“Look at me.”

You opened your eyes to see him leaning close to you, his expression unreadable, though his eyes held a softness that you weren’t sure you’d ever seen in them before.

Before you had a chance to react, the other man’s lips were pressed against your own, his fingers lightly brushing against your jawline before trailing to the back of your neck, his fingertips warm against the nape of your neck.  His other hand grasped yours atop the cool wooden surface of the table.  Your eyes fluttering closed, you were unsure if this was real, or some saccharine daydream born of your inebriation.  

Though you were at least certain of one thing; his lips were sweeter than any wine.

[a-midnight-rabbit-writes]

Adagio

Platonic Malleus x GN pianist!Reader

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Reader finds a forgotten piano hidden away in the depths of NRC.  Soothing their loneliness via music, they soon gather a lone audience member who silently enjoys their playing from the shadows.

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CW: none

Word count: 1165

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This wasn’t the first time that the mysterious, dark haired student had come to listen to you play.  You’d noticed him quite a few times over the past few weeks, actually, lingering just outside the partially opened classroom door, hiding off to the side in the shadows of the corridor as your fingers danced along the piano’s keys.  He was so silent most of the time that you might not have noticed him at all, had it not been for the soft, almost imperceptible humming that you had picked up on one day, following along with your fingers upon the black and white keys as you circled around to the beginning of one particular song for the third or fourth (maybe even the fifth) time that evening.

While the memories of your home world were blurry, like the indistinct photograph of an object slipping by as your finger frantically struck the shutter button in a futile attempt to capture the present moment, your fingers seemed to have a memory all their own, one that the transfer between worlds hadn’t had the thought to snatch away.  And so, the dusty piano, only slightly out of tune and tucked away in an abandoned classroom down one of Night Raven College’s unlit stone-walled hallways had become somewhat of a safe-haven for you.  An overlooked instrument, for an overlooked, unmagical student.  The two of you left behind together to waltz to the tune of fragmented classical music from another world.

Usually students didn’t venture this far into the castle, especially not this late in the evening.  Most were preparing to head back to the dorms from club activities and other after-school engagements.  However, the person quietly lingering outside the classroom door wasn’t the average student, you’d come to notice.  You had seen him in the halls quite a few times, followed closely by two tall young men, one incredibly loud, with sharp eyes and green hair, the other one quiet, with a softer expression and light silver locks that almost fell into his eyes, the three always given a wide berth by those passing through the halls.  Though you suspect that this had less to do with Sebek and Silver, upperclassmen whose names you had come to learn in passing, and more to do with the young lord for whom they acted as bodyguards.

Malleus Draconia.  Dragon fae.  Heir apparent to Briar Valley.  The name didn’t mean much to you, not being of this world.  However, it seemed to instill a stark sense of fear and unease into each and every one of your classmates.

You had accidentally caught his gaze once, passing through the stone-walled hallways on your way to Professor Trein’s history class early one morning.  Running late, the halls had been vacant, except for you and one other student.  Out of breath from the near-running pace that you had kept throughout the halls, praying that you could slip into class just before the bell rang, you had turned a corner and looked up just in time to meet the chartreuse eyes of a much taller student, his curling black horns adding significant height to his already tall frame.  He wore the standard black NRC blazer over the bright green Diasomnia vest, a matching dorm armband encircling his upper left arm.  It was rare to see him without his bodyguards, or his vice housewarden, Lilia Vanrouge.  Yet here he was, alone, and running late to class, just as you were, though much unlike you he displayed no outward urgency in ensuring that he arrived on time.   The two of you held eye contact for but a brief moment as you rushed past him, but it was long enough for you to glimpse a very recognizable emotion in his gaze.

Loneliness.  An emotion that you had become almost intimately familiar with since arriving in Twisted Wonderland.

It wasn’t as if you weren’t close to anyone here.  You had made friends, and had at least a handful of people here who you cared about and who cared about you in return.  And yet, sometimes late at night, or during certain holidays or other special celebrations that were foreign to you, classmates and friends sharing that excitement with family and people they had known for years, you could feel that quiet ache slip into your being.  It was during those times especially that the familiar music coming from your fingertips had become a necessary comfort.

Today, strangely, you noticed that your piano was no longer out of tune.  Each key resonated at its intended pitch as you stretched your fingers, warming up each digit with a few sets of scales.  As you eased your way through your warm-up routine and into the repetitive loop of your favorite instrumental pieces, the fading daylight swept by as quickly as it usually did.  As the creeping darkness outside overcame the remaining sunlight you found yourself reaching for a small matchbook and the tarnished silver candle holder that sat atop the piano.  You paused, curiously, as your fingers brushed against the cool metal handle of the candle holder, surprised to see that the melted down stub of wax that had served to light your evenings in this dusty classroom had been replaced with a taller, fresh candle, the wick yet unblemished by soot.

You had just opened the matchbook, fingers searching for a single match within, when out of nowhere the candle suddenly came alight with a sickly green, flickering flame.  Straightening, and turning towards the doorway, you saw that your lone hallway audience member had actually stepped through the door today, and stood only a short distance from you.  His eyes reflected the firelight of the lone candle, almost glowing green in the faint lighting as he towered over you, his horns spiraling away into the shadows.

You noticed that he held an instrument case in his hands.

“You play exceptionally well, Child of Man,” the strange fae remarked.  “Might I accompany you this evening?” He inquired, unlatching the instrument case and pulling out his violin.

“I’m not sure I know anything you’d be familiar with…” You admitted to him, yet unsure whether to be flattered or intimidated by the attention of Briar Valley’s dark prince.  You hadn’t really bothered to learn many songs from this world, instead opting to play what you had memorized from home, over, and over, and over again.  A slight smile graced the dragon fae’s lips at your words.

“I believe that I have become familiar enough with what you already know, Child of Man.”  

Hesitating for just one moment more, you gave him a slight nod in acquiescence, before turning back to the black and white keys in front of you.  Your fingers swept lightly over the keys, an airy, delicate tune soothing the air and growing in intensity with the addition of a tender violin chorus intertwining itself within your melody. 

Perhaps it would be alright to share your loneliness with another person, just this once.

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Thanks for reading!!

[a-midnight-rabbit-writes]

🏛️Sorting TWST Characters into PJO Cabins🏛️

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SCARABIA

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💎Kalim💎

Child of Tyche, Goddess of Success, Fortune, Luck, and Prosperity.  How else could he narrowly survive all of those kidnapping and poisoning attempts?  Being lucky is just in his DNA.  (And seems to help keep the monsters away.)

🐍Jamil🐍

While being a demigod definitely has ample downsides, being a child of Athena meant that in the very least, Jamil had summertime away from the Al-Asim estate and his responsibilities, and therefore, away from Kalim.  That is until one day, when Kalim snuck into Camp Half-Blood, eagerly following his household servant friend, and it was discovered that he too was a demigod.

[a-midnight-rabbit-writes]

🏛️Sorting TWST Characters into PJO Cabins 🏛️

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POMEFIORE

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👑Vil👑

How could Vil Schoenheit, Fairest of Them All, not be an Aphrodite kid? When there was question as to who should be the next counselor for the Aphrodite Cabin, the campers were split between both Vil and Neige, until Neige backed down in favor of Vil becoming the cabin leader. While the rest of the camp sees someone who excels effortlessly at anything that he turns his attention to, his cabin mates know just how hard he works. Potions expert; I feel like he’d be a fan of Circe. Please keep him away from Neige during Capture the Flag.

🏹Rook🏹

Pro-hunter, expert archer, with a love for poetry and a flair for the dramatic? Obviously an Apollo kid. Despite his shiny golden hair and unusually sunny outlook on life, his more eccentric aspects manage to weird out even his cabin mates. However, with his extensive skill and knowledge in monster-hunting he’s definitely an asset on any quest. The camp’s resident hellhound has taken a strange liking to him. Spends an almost concerning amount of time hanging around the Aphrodite Cabin.

🍎Epel🍎

Throughout his rather short stay in the Hermes cabin, waiting for his godly parent to claim him, Epel definitely held out hope for the mark above his head to show Ares, Hephaestus, Apollo, heck even Athena would be super cool. Boy, was his world turned upside-down when he was suddenly encased in a bright pink aura. Vil helps him hone his charmspeak abilities, but let's be honest, Epel would much rather be spending his time sparring with the Ares kids.

[a-midnight-rabbit-writes]

🏛️Sorting TWST Characters into PJO Cabins🏛️

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IGNIHYDE

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🔥Idia🔥

Idia is perfectly content being the only (living) member of the Hades cabin.  The only other person in camp that he really spends any time with is his ghostly younger brother, Ortho, who he miraculously dragged out of the Underworld.  (After the God of the Underworld himself finally relented to a young Idia’s teary-eyed request of course.) Absolutely refuses to participate in Capture the Flag.

💀Ortho💀

After a disastrous run-in with monsters when he and Idia were still incredibly young, Ortho remembers waking up in the Underworld. He doesn’t recall much of his time within the Land of the Dead, his memories only regaining clarity after his older brother took his hand and led him back into the world of the living, though this time with a less corporeal form. He spends most of his time with Idia, holed up inside of the Hades Cabin, tagging along with his brother on the (rare) occasions that he goes outside.

[a-midnight-rabbit-writes]

🏛️Sorting TWST Characters into PJO Cabins🏛️

***CW: SPOILERS FOR SILVER'S UNIQUE MAGIC***

To celebrate one of my very first fandoms finally getting the live-action series it deserves (debuting on my birthday no less) I've decided to sort characters from my current fandom into which cabins I think they'd be in were they all campers at Camp Half-Blood, starting with:

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DIASOMNIA

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🐉Malleus🐉

The Big Three aren’t supposed to have children with mortals, but Zeus might have slipped up. (I’d probably slip up for MalMal’s mom too, let's be honest) Coming from an old money family with a long lineage, Malleus was raised by his grandmother for the first few years of his life, before her mysterious disappearance. Only after showing up at Camp Half-Blood in his late teen years did it come to light that his grandmother, unbeknownst to anyone else, was none other than Hecate, Goddess of Magic, leaving him descended from not one, but two of the Greek Gods. (Gotta keep our favorite Draconia OP somehow)

🗡️Silver🗡️

With how often he falls asleep, even in the most bizarre of places/situations, one could easily suspect that Silver was a child of Hypnos, the God of Sleep, whose children are notoriously sleepy, it was a little bit of a surprise to everybody when he was claimed instead by Morpheus, God of Dreams. However, to Silver, his dream-hopping ability suddenly made much more sense.

⚡Sebek⚡

Grandchild of Zeus. Extremely ecstatic that he shares godly lineage with Malleus. He may be a generation removed from his godly parent, but we all know that won’t stop him from bragging to Silver about being descended from one of the Big Three, as opposed to Silver’s relation to a "mere minor god".

🦇Lilia🦇

Everyone at camp is pretty sure that Lilia isn’t a god or a demigod, and certainly isn’t human either. How he keeps entering the camp’s boundaries is anybody’s guess honestly. (Diagnosing Lilia as a Creature™)