#listen they would be such a power triad

[thatcryptidinthesea]

Okay the fandom's asleep, time to post niche rareship art.

[bisexualdinahlance]

I'm gonna be real, I do think Tristan could be genuine in his feeling like hes "not going to be able to share" just based on how Max acted in this episode. Setting aside any potential Max/Tristan attraction, Max spent this whole episode being uncomfortable around Tristan, butting heads with him, and asserting his authority over him in a way we haven't seen since episode 1, if ever. (He dressed Tristan down in front of the Captain and called him Nurse Silva has he ever done that??)

Then Max gives his whole speech about being traditional, wanting one woman, and children, and about how they need to be able to maintain their dynamics and therefore their hierarchy. I think Tristan quite frankly lost some trust he had gained in Max in this episode. Trust that he would be listened to, trust that they could meet on the same level, trust that Max trusted him in return.

Not to mention Avery actively used to his attraction to her to get what she wanted lol. He floats the idea of them making a good duo after Max's rejection and she won't even consider it. Then she flirts with him just to get him to agree to talk to Max. It was funny but you could see even then he looked a little put out by it. There's nothing wrong with her wanting both and feeling like monogamy isn't for her, but I do think Tristan took that as "I am not and will never be enough for her" and that hit right in his emotional issues.

I think it genuinely is difficult for him to see how they could be in a balanced relationship atp (poly-v OR triad). In his eyes, Max not only doesn't want to try something "non traditional" but the threesome has also brought his power over Tristan to the forefront, causing a breakdown in trust. Avery has, unintentionally, kinda made it seem like she isn't concerned for Tristan's feelings and/or just doesn't care enough about him. It makes sense that Tristan feels like he's not going to be respected or considered in the relationship!

I also think it's significant that Avery keeps talking about fun and not putting a label on it and just... Never talks about the emotional side of it which makes sense for her prior commitment issues but is something that both Max and Tristan explicitly want.

This also isn't to say it couldn't work out between them lol, I'm still rooting for them to at least be a V (tho it's be a triad in my heart). I think that jealousy and insecurity is normal sometimes in polyamory at the beginning. The key is to communicate and they aren't... Really doing that yet lol.

[qilingxiong]

九龍城寨之圍城 | Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In (2024)

I've rewatched this movie more than once, since seeing it in theatres back in August, and each time was just as good as the first if not better. Given that, I now have many thoughts so I'm subjecting y'all to listening to why you should watch it:

Twilight of the Warriors: Walled In (九龍城寨之圍城 or gau2 lung4 sing4 zaai6 zi1 wai4 sing4) is a martial arts action/crime film directed by Soi Cheang. It is an adaptation of the manhua City of Darkness by Andy Seto, and its source novel of the same name by Yuyi. The film's cast has established Hong Kong names folded in with newer-generation actors, starring Raymond Lam, Louis Koo, Sammo Hung, Richie Jen, Terrance Lau, Philip Ng, German Cheung, and Tony Wu (Aaron Kwok gets a cameo role, too).

At a broad glance, the movie follows several major triads in 1980s Hong Kong and their power struggle to control the Kowloon Walled City (a densely populated urban enclave, which for decades evaded direct governance by either the British colonial or Chinese powers in the area). We're introduced to the KWC and the triads' major players through the eyes of Chan Lok-Kwan (Raymond Lam), a man fleeing Vietnam and attempting to make a life for himself in HK. He winds up seeking refuge in the KWC, and comes to call both the city and the people he meets in it a home worth defending.

The narrative itself is not the most complex, but if you enjoy '80s Hong Kong films in these genres, it's solid fare and a harkening back to that decade. All the major themes like brotherhood (and brotherhood vs blood), vengeance, and struggle with conflicting loyalties are there, alongside an internal search for identity and belonging within Hong Kong. But the highlight in it is that the plot connects feast after feast of utterly stunning fight choreography, made all the more impressive by the fact that, according to Louis Koo, quite a few major cast members had never filmed this kind of action before. All their training was done just for TotW, and oh, does it pay off. I can't make good gifs, so you'll have to watch and see for yourself. It's not action for action's sake, either; listening to the head stunt choreographer discuss how different characters' fighting styles were crafted shows off how fight scenes aren't breaks in the story, they tell the story, and deepen our understanding of the characters.

The setting of the Kowloon Walled City truly makes the action in TotW stand out. It's a unique space to stage all these major fights, as the KWC's buildings at the time were packed together close enough to resemble a singular block from the outside. Once inside, it's a stacked, dark maze of uneven paths, stairs, and rickety roofs, with electrical and television cabling snaking over/around/through everything. Fight scenes in these streets feel thrillingly claustrophobic, with lots of acrobatics and near-dodges as characters navigate these tight alleys of the KWC. Each impact as a character goes flying into a wall, or is launched down a flight of stairs or onto a roof, is wonderfully visceral to watch.

All credit and hopefully awards are due to the production and set design teams for their work, in crafting this environment for the story and its fights. The visual/spatial representation of the KWC is the film's other glorious highlight, alongside the choreography. Whole streets of the KWC were recreated for this, filled with every mundane, period-accurate detail from the lives of ordinary people who would have lived there. It's impossible to catch all the intricacies put into making the KWC come to life again onscreen, just from watching the film. Shots like the credits sequence offer close-ups of harder-to-see details, and videos like a tour of the KWC set by Terrance Lau, acting as his character Shin, show off things from the drinks in the fridge at the corner store to the scribbled writing on the walls by the public taps. This film was designed with a drive to faithfully represent what the Kowloon Walled City had been like, how it looked when it was lived in, and they achieved it to an incredible degree.

That dedication extends to more than just the sets, though. The emotional core of TotW revolves around the KWC's inhabitants, and how they were the ones who made the city what it was, a home for about 35,000 people at a time. The film doesn't treat the KWC as just an eye-catching location to stage some fights; its characters might be fictional and overloaded with jianghu powers, but it goes out of its way to show how ordinary people might have lived, worked, and socialized within the historic city. It shows off why, despite its (not unwarranted) dark reputation, so many chose to live in a place that was once the densest urban center on the planet.

And this brings us to the acting, because the cast all do a very good job bringing their characters to life as the heart of the KWC. Louis Koo is fucking fantastic and arguably the scene stealer of the film as Cyclone, the triad leader in current charge of the KWC. He's grumpy, magnetic, and dangerous when he must be, but he also cares so very, very deeply about the inhabitants within his jurisdiction. Terrance Lau's Shin acts as his charismatic and capable right hand man, as well as protégé to Cyclone, befriending Chan Lok-Kwan and helping him become accustomed to life in the KWC. These two, along with the snarky Twelfth Master (Tony Wu) and the masked + imposing AV (German Cheung) become a quartet with great chemistry and friendship, the next generation to watch over and protect the Kowloon Walled City. Outside the KWC cast, antagonist figures like Sammo Hung, Philip Ng, and Richie Jen's characters are intimidating and compelling as threats to the city, and the lives people have etched out within its walls.

All of these things put together, and Twilight of the Warriors is a deeply fun, enjoyable, and rewatchable film (so good, in fact, that Hong Kong has submitted it as its nomination for the 2025 Oscars). The movie doesn't lose its emotional throughline in the promise of an action-packed ride it fully delivers on, and it uses its narrative, setting, and choreography to pay tribute to an earlier era of Hong Kong, as well as highlight + humanize a piece of the region's history that might not be quite as well known to some.

(The Kowloon Walled City was demolished and its inhabitants relocated in 1993. The area where it once stood is now a park, with some historic buildings preserved. If you're curious about people in the KWC before demolition, City Of Darkness: Life In Kowloon Walled City (1993) by Greg Girard and Ian Lambot is a collection of photographs and first-hand recountings from residents, recording their lives and stories. I'm in the midst of reading it right now.)

If anything I've said has piqued your interest whatsoever, I say to give Twilight of the Warriors a try, if you have a free two hours to spare. Something in it will be worth it for you. And if I've failed to convince you with any of this, or you need one more push, here's the trailer for the film:

And if I did manage to actually get anyone to seek out this movie, please tell me! I'd love to know your thoughts.

[fatkish]

Hello, so in your mortem Omega x Shoji post, you mentioned Tokoyami being part of their pack due to a preexisting pack bond with Shoji, which I totally agree with. So in the context of just regular omega reader x alpha Shoji, do you have HCs for Tokoyami's role in the pack? Is it sort of a polyamorous situation, or does he prefer to steer clear when things are getting heated (or does he just watch and then write dramatic poetry about it later)? Is there anyone else you HC as being in their pack? Thank you for your time, have a lovely!

Shoji & Tokoyami x Reader a/b/o HC’s

(NSFW under the cut)

I headcannon that both Tokoyami and Mezo are alphas while the reader is an omega

In the trio, the reader is the friendly type and is a conversationalist and does most of talking whilst Mezo and Fumikage both happily listen and share their input

The triad likely started out as just the reader and Mezo, but then after some time of hanging out with Mezo and reader, Fumikage agreed to join their pack

Now in my A/B/O universe, there can be relationships within a pack. Packs are consisted of mainly just people who are extremely close to one another, like a tightly knit friends group. This allows for there to be personal relationships that exist within the pack

It would mainly just be the triad of (y/n), Mezo and Fumikage but they could create a friendship pack with Koda Koji, although he wouldn’t be part of the romantic/sexual triad. I also headcannon that Koji is a beta, I mean, he works with animals and having a powerful scent would probably hinder his quirk more than help it

The reader makes bentos for themselves, Mezo and Fumikage and brings them to school with them then hands them to them. Mezo and Fumikage deeply appreciate that (y/n) spends the time to make them delicious lunches when they don’t need to. Even if Lunch Rush’s food is better that (y/n)’s, the boys would always pick (y/n)’s cooking since it gives them a sense of pride to eat their omega’s cooking

As the reader hangs out with Tokoyami, they decide to nickname him Fumi and they gave Dark shadow the nickname Corumb, Cor from the Latin word Corvus for crow and Umb from the Latin word Umbra for shadow or darkness

Dark Shadow was thrilled to be given his own nickname. Dark Shadow likes to cuddle with the reader and is very protective and of them. If it’s dark and Dark Shadow gets out of control, then the reader will go to Fumikage and console Dark Shadow, Dark Shadow is calmed by the reader’s presence and loves them

Since Mezo doesn’t really have a bunch of stuff, his dorm room is the designated group den/nest.

The reader builds the communal nest in Mezo’s dorm and the three of them will cuddle together in it. Tokoyami will help the reader build the nest and the both of them will cuddle up to Mezo whilst in his many arms

When it comes to their ruts, the reader will help them through it. And they will take turns helping the reader with their heats

The reader has their own personal nest in their dorm that they use for themselves. Tokoyami and Mezo often give the reader new items that are scented for their nest

When it comes to Tokoyami’s rut, he’s actually very gentle and very attentive. I headcannon that his preferred position is doggy style due to his beak (also he isn’t really a kisser, he mostly just nuzzles) he’s got a decent 7 inches when fully aroused and he’s got a 2 inch knot. He’s got some nice veins and and it’s slightly curved upwards. The head is a soft pink

Tokoyami’s pace is slow and steady, he speeds up when he’s close to cumming though. He’s constantly rubbing his face into the reader’s back as he thrusts into them

Since Tokoyami can’t bite into the reader or Mezo, they both bite Tokoyami as to show that he’s claimed and belongs to someone(s)

Mezo and Tokoyami will pair off sometimes, when you’re in heat, they’ll take turns taking care of you while the other takes care of food and water or other stuff

(That’s all I got)

[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 19

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on @discoscoob 's concept & bot! An unlikely flirtation turns into a dark obsession... Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, eventual dubcon/nsfw/involuntary captivity. credit to @sweetwolfcupcake for finding the perfect donaka pic for this chapter! 😘😘 all chapters

Nineteen. 十九

You enjoy the duration of the ride, all the way up to Causeway Bay. He pulls up to a towering building, one of so many on Gloucester Road. 

“What’s this?” you ask, craning your neck as you look upward. 

“I believe they're called skyscrapers…” he answers cheekily. 

“Haha. I mean what are we doing?”

“Yum cha, of course.”

Your stomach starts to rumble almost on cue at the mention of this Hong Kong lunch-time tradition of tea and dumplings. 

You're not sure why it surprises you when he passes the keys to a young valet at the door. 

 “Does it ever worry you, handing the keys over to a two-million dollar car?” you ask as you take his arm. 

“Not really,” he answers. “It’s insured, and they know there would be consequences, if there was an incident.” 

“Hmm. Isn’t there a huge market for stolen luxury cars on the mainland? Like, don’t the Triads put them on speedboats and whisk them away in the dead of night?” 

Donaka chuckles darkly down at you. 

“What a morbid imagination you have.” 

“I read it somewhere.”

“One of your dubious internet searches, no doubt,” he comments with a knowing smirk. “You really shouldn’t Google ‘how to get away with murder’ so cavalierly.” 

This makes you pause as you are stepping over an uneven crack in the sidewalk. You almost teeter over in your high platforms, and you might have fallen if not for his steadying hand upon you. 

You remember that thread of research–from a long time ago. 

“It was for a book.” How far back did his sleuthing on you go? 

“Sure it was. Not for the ex boyfriend who was heckling you?” 

There had been a time when one of your exes had spammed you with messages on Facebook, asking you to hang out again with the poorly disguised intention of resuming your relationship, as though he hadn’t cheated on you with another backpacker in a hostel in Kathmandu. Murder was a bit drastic, but after the time he gave you before the cheating, the gaslighting, the degradation, and the way he would yell at you for utterly inconsequential things, you wouldn't have shed a tear if he'd been mauled by monkeys and fell off a mountain. 

You realize that from now on you might as well assume Donaka has read every little detail of your online life, whether it was password protected or not. This doesn’t surprise you as much as it might have a month ago. In fact…you’re damn near resigned. 

Rather than push you off balance, as usual, this time you merely roll your eyes. “Afraid I made my personal FBI agent clutch his pearls?”

“Undoubtedly.” 

He smirks down at you, and you can tell by the glitter in his shark-black eyes that he is enjoying himself. 

“Does my search history make you nervous, Mr. Mark?” you tease, knowing the likelihood is zilch to nil. He pushes your hair behind your ear, before tilting your head up with just a touch too much force to be considered polite.

“If you were going to try to kill me, y/n, you would have done it by now.” 

You gape up at him, flummoxed as usual. Does this mean he thinks he’s worn you down…or do you dare hope…you’re finally safe? You grasp for this latter possibility with greedy hands before your higher brain slaps the foolish notion down. 

Surely this man is only fucking with you, the way he has been all along. 

You are not safe with him, that inner voice chides. 

Why do you find it so hard to listen to it lately?  

In the end, you have to ask. “Does that mean…you're going to be nice to me now?”

He snorts, ushering you inside with his hand utterly spanning the small of your back. He doesn’t answer until the doors slide closed, and he crowds you into the wall with his big body, caging you with his arms on either side of you. Your treacherous heart leaps into your throat, torn as usual between fear and absolute immolation. He looks down at you with the sharp hunger of a wolf as he informs you, “You haven't even seen my mean side yet, sweetheart.”

Your mouth goes dry, and for some stupid reason you can’t tear your gaze away from his lips. 

You can only manage one pleading word past the tightness in your throat, your hand sliding over the hard plane of his chest, resting above his wicked heart. “Donaka…”

You don't really even know what you're asking him for? Mercy, or your final ruin?

The elevator dings at your floor. “Later.” He rights himself, taking your hand to lead you into the foyer of the restaurant. It’s a beautiful space, all dark high-polished wood and soft lighting. Backlit wooden screens bearing cutouts of undulating dragons and Chinese characters take up one wall. You wonder if it tells a story. The host addresses Donaka reverentially by name, and immediately ushers you to a table for two by the window. 

The view of the glittering blue bay below teeming with boats is breathtaking from this high up. 

If you knew nothing about Hong Kong, just looked at the teeny tiny green island on a map in relation to the mainland, and then to the whole world…it would seem hard to fathom what all the fuss is about. But there is a special magic to this place that you maybe sensed all along, yet had no hope of truly understanding, and you realize you still don’t. You wonder if that will ever change, or if this place will forever remain a dazzling mystery to you. 

“You like the view?”

 You simply nod, awed by the bustle below and your chic surroundings and the unlikely treat of being out in public with Donaka, you realize, for the very first time. Without thinking you find yourself reaching for his hand across the table, sliding your fingers into his. You feel him tense, as though you've actually done something to surprise him–or anger him.  You meet his eyes across the table, and for a split second you get the odd feeling that you aren't the only one who is uncertain.

It passes so quickly you are almost convinced you invented it. His long fingers wrap around yours possessively, the corner of his mouth pulled upwards. You can't tell if he's smirking at you, like you're the butt of a joke you don't understand– or if he's simply pleased. 

You’re not terribly proud of it, but it does not escape you that this man could show you a side of this city you never could have accessed before. Of course you always knew he was rich, but there is an upper echelon of of unfathomably wealthy people on this little island, and you’re beginning to suspect that Donaka might be one of them. 

Not for the first time you marvel that this handsome, well-connected man could have anyone in the world–and yet he’s chosen you. But then you tell yourself, also not for the first time, that he never could have gotten away with what he’s done to you, if he’d taken someone who mattered.

He watches you intently as you are thinking about all of this; you do not know what he reads in your expression. Before he can ask the waiter brings tea. Your hands separate on the tablecloth, and you feel the absence of his grasp keenly as though a chasm has opened between you. 

Annoyed with yourself, you dig your nails into your palm. 

The waiter sets down the tea tray, arranging the cups on the table, pouring for you both.  

Donaka chats with him genially in Cantonese, and you think about how morbidly fascinating it is to watch him interact with the public. He has such a commanding presence, and yet somehow he is always perfectly polite. You marvel at how people leap to please him. Do they have any inkling of the monster beneath the mask, or is it simply all charm? 

You catch a few words of their discussion, but most of it goes over your head. You presume he’s ordered for you both, after the waiter trots off for the kitchen. You find, in this instance…you don’t particularly mind. Would you have objected, once? Is he changing you? Or are you just surviving? You find you’re not particularly sure about any of these questions, and you dig your nails into your flesh even harder, as though trying to wake up from a dream. 

But this is no passing fancy of your sleeping brain. This is real, and you are living it–you have finally made it out of the house, and yet still, he has you. You realize it did not occur to you even once after the car stopped to make a run for it down the sidewalk, or solicit the help of a stranger on the street. 

Has he truly managed to train you? 

It’s not too late. 

You could make a scene, in this beautiful restaurant with its three Michelin stars. (You saw the proud plaque on the wall on the way in). But you look at the man sitting across from you, who is watching you extra intently now, as though he senses that you are a horse that has just remembered she does not require the bit–and you feel the truth settle over you.

You do not want to run.

You would rather sit here with him, and share a tasty meal like normal people, and hope that maybe things will turn around for you after all. 

You seek out his foot with yours, touching it lightly with your toe, and the question in his eyes seems to dissipate, at least for now. In fact, he looks downright pleased, and he tangles you up in his long legs under the table. He holds up his teacup in a silent toast, and gods help you, but you return the gesture and sip, the warm liquid sliding down your throat.

***

With an absolute feast of har gow and dim sum in bamboo steamer baskets filling the table, the two of you chow down. The table offers a taste of everything: succulent little dumplings filled with seasoned pork and shrimp, beef buns so delightful you could die. You even got to try bird’s nest soup for the first time, a delicacy that sounds strange to the Western palette, but something truly special. 

It’s the most full you’ve been in a long time, and you think Donaka might have to roll you out of the restaurant. Playfully you fight over the last dumpling with your chopsticks. He wins, of course, but he offers you the morsel expertly from across the table. You’re sure it’s not exactly good manners, but you cannot damper your utter delight for this sweet gesture from your usually so forbidding paramour.

“I think I’m going to pop,” you confess, winning his quiet mirth from across the table. 

“You liked?”

“Oh god.”

This only makes him chuckle more, and you know you are a ridiculous creature, but the sound is music to your ears. This pure delight makes him seem almost boyish, and you cannot stop yourself from gazing at him, wondering. 

“What were you like, when you were young?” you ask, seemingly out of the blue. 

He narrows his eyes at you, his brow furrowed, though you sense you have not actually displeased him. “Why do you ask?”

“I don't know,” you evade, setting down your chopsticks. “Maybe I wonder…if you were ever innocent.”

He lifts an eyebrow at this, and you shift in your chair, pressing your thighs together in an effort to relieve the sudden ache in your core. 

“Probably not,” he admits.

“Were you ever…happy?”

“Not like this,” he admits, and he could have pushed you out of your chair with a fingertip at that moment.

“What did you look like?”

This makes him laugh, and he too sits back in his chair, bracketing you with his long legs. “Younger, one assumes.”

“Do you have any pictures?”

“On me right now?”

You giggle, intoxicated in the moment. “No. Just in general.”

“I’m not a sentimental man, y/n. It’s not something I would keep around.”

You shrug, not sure if you believe him, deep down. You think that maybe he holds on to things in his way, more than he would like to admit. 

“Were you happy?” he counters.  “As a child?”

“Not often,” you answer immediately. “But then…I didn’t know anything different.”

“What about now?”

You close your eyes for a few long moments, and you realize the answer, crazy as it seems…is yes.

You nod, and the half smile he pays you is more than just triumph. The hunger in his eyes makes you squirm in your seat–yet there is also a certain warmth that you’re not entirely sure what to do with. 

In any other man, you would know exactly what it meant.

Donaka Mark, however…cannot be read so easily. You know it, deep down, even while a part of you dares to hope that maybe there is some genuine softer feeling in this man, just for you.     

“I have to use the restroom,” you say, gathering your ridiculous new purse on your forearm. It's a perfectly normal thing one does after a meal, but you incline your head at your keeper, waiting. He nods, and you go, walking towards the front of the restaurant. 

You can feel his eyes upon you as you walk away.

Yet after you do your business and step out you realize how close you are to the exit. You can see Donaka across the dining room, looking out the window over the water, seemingly not even paying attention to you. You think about how easy it could be, to just slip out of the restaurant unnoticed. Down the stairs, or even the elevator. Kick off these high-rise shoes and run. Make your way to the street, then your embassy. 

Maybe finally make your way home. 

You look again at the handsome man by the window waiting for you, and again you realize…you don't want to. 

If he will treat you well…you could be happy. You could be happy with that terrible rogue, and your new found family of Mei and Mrs. Wong and the other people of his household who have become your fast friends. Even Jason, who undoubtedly knows how you tried to trick him, still treats you kindly. You care for them all, and losing them would hurt in a way you find you’re not prepared to endure just now.  

He holds you hostage with kindness far more effectively than he ever did with fear. If he planned this day just to lull you into a false sense of security…he hit the mark dead on. 

Knowing very well that you could be a lamb returning meekly to the slaughter, you slowly walk back to the table with a strange ringing in your ears. As you take your seat you look upon Donaka with new eyes. 

You would have paid a king’s ransom in that moment, to know if any of this is real. 

Donaka inclines his head at you as you settle in, reaching out to possess your hand across the table with a greediness that surprises you. “So. What made you decide to come back, tou zai yee?”

Little rabbit indeed. 

You look out the window again, reluctant as ever to say it aloud.

He squeezes your hand in his, just this side of too hard. 

“I’ll have it here, or at home with you bent over my knee, bunny,” he assures you, his tone low and dangerous as the warning growl of a tiger. You see the eager gleam in his dark eyes, and you know he’ll be happy either way. 

Here he is, you think to yourself. The predator you knew lurked all along, beneath the genial facade.  

Still, you answer in your stubborn way, “Why make me say it? You already know.” 

You see it out the corner of your eye, when he smirks at you. “Do I? So I was right, you do have expensive taste.” 

This almost feels like a slap. You’re sure he knows it too, but you rise to the bait anyway, fighting to keep your voice low in this public arena. “Donaka, you could have taken me to a street stall on public transit, and I’d still be feeling this way.” 

“What way?” 

“Hoping against hope that this side of you is genuine. Because I like you a lot, when you’re sweet to me.” 

“Hmm. I think I’d bore you to tears, if I was always sweet to you.” 

“Try me.” 

This earns you genuine laughter; you covet it like a precious gem, knowing you’ll hoard it in your memory like a dragon guarding its treasure.  

“Is that all?” 

“No.” 

“I thought not.” 

You find yourself even more reluctant to admit the rest of the truth. It’s a fine blade you walk upon, confessing weakness to this man. It could lead to victory…or demise, with one tiny misstep. Yet like he knows, he waits, his dark eyes boring into you. 

“Go on, y/n. Finish your thought.” 

You make a small sound in the back of your throat that you know is no more threatening to this man than the posturing of a frustrated kitten. He squeezes you harder, and as ever, the strength in his hands never fails to make your insides flutter. 

“Mei…is like a sister I never had,” you admit. 

“You have two half-sisters.” 

“Yes. But they hate me, and I…don’t like them much either.”

He seems to consider this, which for this man, is about as close to surprise as you can get. 

“That girl means so much to you?” 

You nod, still looking out the window, hoping this explanation is enough. You’re afraid if you admit to him that his entire household has become precious to you, he will only use it against you. 

“Hmm. I suppose I can’t scold you for fraternizing with the help.”

You laugh shakily at that. Here you are, gone from housekeeper to kept woman–even if only as of today, somewhat according to your own will.

How the tables have turned. 

Donaka nods, as though mulling this over. It’s interesting to you, that this is the thing that seems to perplex him.

“Very well, y/n. Ready to go home?”

There is a lightness in his tone that emboldens you.

“No. I want more adventuring with you.”

He chuckles at you, his eyes shining like high-polished onyx. “Oh really? Someone thinks she's tai-tai already.”

“What does that mean?”

“Your Cantonese is abominable.” 

“I’m…working on it.” 

He snorts at that, only gently derisive. “Not hard enough. Ask your friend Mei, next time you're gossiping when she should be working.” He says this with a little smile, and you decide he doesn't mind that you have a friend at home, or that you’re making demands to spend more time out with him. 

“Fine. I will.”

He lifts an eyebrow at you amusedly, and damn him for the thrill it gives you. 

“Very well. More adventuring. I know what you'll like.”

You can’t help but think that's been the problem all along.

[lxkeee]

FLY ME TO THE MOON: THE SEVEN VIRTUES OF GOD

Notes: just some information about the seven virtues.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

Rankings:

The seven virtues consist of seven angels from different triads.

The archangels are Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael/Reader, the virtues of justice, faith, and kindness.

The only dominion angel is Uriel, the virtue of wisdom.

The only seraphim angel is Jophiel, the virtue of beauty.

The only throne angel is Camuel, the virtue of courage.

The only power angel is Azrael, the angel of death.

Most would think the seraphim angels are the most powerful but it's actually the seven virtues who are the most powerful. Strength and power the seven virtues are better as they are in the front lines.

The seraphim angels listen to them.

The seven virtues stayed most of their time on earth, working their separate duties. They watched over the mortals.

Each virtue watches one continent of earth but they do take turns in each continent.

Each virtue has its own personal mansion in heaven.

Personality Dynamics:

The seven virtues think of each other like siblings or best friends at most.

Michael, obviously the older and the leader. Cares for the other six like an older brother does. Cold, serious and takes his role very seriously.

Gabriel, the second oldest. She's like a big sister. Quite a tease too.

Raphael, the third oldest. An introvert, doesn't know how to show affections. She used to but she's currently suffering depression and therefore has trouble understanding her emotions lately but she cares. Very cold and serious when in work mode but awkward and chill during their day off.

Uriel, the same age as Raphael. Very smart, often speaks like a poet or a crackhead and there's no in-between. Total sweetheart and always ready to help. Serious when doing his job.

Jophiel, the same age as Raphael. A flirt, likes teasing others and especially the other virtues. Hides away from responsibilities if he has the chance. If he can't then he would take his job very seriously.

Camuel, the same age as Raphael. Despite being the virtue of courage, he gets scared very easily. Strong though, so he can fight. Got along with the other virtues.

Azrael, the same age as Raphael. A very playful, mischievous, flirty, serious angel. He tends to make fun of others but knows when not to cross the lines. A little sadistic. Always have a smirk on his face, very condescending when in work mode.

The seven virtues both have work and relax mode. When working they are downright terrifyingly serious. But when they don't have any work then they are quite chill.

Michael barely gets any sleep. Functions with coffee 24/7.

Raphael barely has any motivation to do anything.

All seven virtues have sass in their tongues.

Uriel does dad jokes or corny jokes.

Jophiel the victim to listen to those jokes.

All seven of them are tired as fuck, very overworked lmao.

Michael and Azrael often argue cuz the reaper teases Michael. Tend to end up in a fight.

Gabriel tries to break it off and accidentally gets included in the fight.

Camuel the one who actually breaks it off.

Raphael is just there, already used to it.

Jophiel and Uriel watching the fight while eating popcorn, making bets.

Work:

Michael watches over the fairness and equality of earth. Keeping track of mortals' deeds.

Gabriel watches over the faiths of humans, offering guidance to mortals. She's the one who sends mortals' prayers to god.

Raphael watches over the sick and healthy. Providing health to the people who needed it.

Uriel watches over the people and keeps track of the progress made by humans.

Jophiel watches over nature and the non humans, making sure equality is present in all of god's creation.

Camuel watches over the people, providing protection.

Azrael the reaper of souls, guides souls to their destination in the afterlife. Updates the book of life that St. Peter uses so he'll know if there's a new soul that would arrive in heaven.

Day Off Dynamics:

Stays in heaven to recharge.

Often have sleepovers.

Gets very chaotic as they often have nights where they go out for drinks.

Game nights are nights of betrayal.

Michael sucks at uno.

Azrael kept on winning.

Loser does the winner's paperworks.

Gossips. Lots of gossips.

Whether it's heavenly tea or mortal ones.

Michael to Azrael during uno: “Right hand on the bible, god can strike me down if I'm lying. The mf is cheating!”

Yes, they swear.

Only when it's just the seven of them in the room.

Probably hibernates for two whole days.

Other fun facts:

Azrael has two floating or flying eye pets, he can use it to eavesdrop in heaven when he's on earth. It serves as his second pair of eyes. He's always watching.

Michael wields a sword.

Gabriel uses a book as she's more of a mage type of angel.

Raphael uses a sword.

Uriel uses a sword.

Jophiel uses a book to conjure spells.

Camuel uses a bow and arrow.

Azrael uses a staff that transforms into a scythe.

Jophiel accidentally turned himself a frog once and had to attend a virtues meeting in frog form. The others never let him forget.

Uriel drinks more wine than water.

The only girls in the seven virtues are Gabriel and Raphael.

[Y/n] is often rolled into a burrito by the others if she's depressed.

[imaginesandbandfiction]

Triad Part 3 — Aftermath of the Mating Bond Ctd.

A Cazriel x Reader Headcanon

Series Masterlist

A/N: I hope you enjoy the next part of my Cazriel x Reader headcanon series, which I've officially named Triad!!!! I'm having so much fun with this hehehe. The series has its own masterlist, linked above!

Voices wake you from a deep slumber, but your eyelids are too heavy to wrench open so you snuggle closer to the warm body wrapped around you and listen in.

“Azriel. Stop pacing, you’re driving me crazy,” Rhysand orders. “She’ll wake when she’s ready.”

“Now who’s the one with a thimble of patience,” Cassian teases. The chest pressed to your back rumbles alongside his laughter.

“We won’t know if it’s really a Triad Bond until all three of you accept it.” Rhys, again. Triad Bond… that word triggers your memory. The golden magic, passing out, being torn apart, falling asleep pressed in between Cassian and Azriel, it all comes flooding back.

“If all three of us accept it,” Az’s words cut like knives through your skin. “We’re not forcing Y/N into anything.”

“‘M accepting it,” you mumble, stirring from your position in an attempt to sit up, but Cassian’s strong arms hold you in place.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” he whispers. “Take some time to think about it.”

The golden magic, the bond, flares up within you alongside your anger. You shove his arms away and scramble off the bed.

“I don’t need time to think about it, so stop pretending all this waffling is about me and not the two of you,” you growl, sending a wave of that anger down the faint strings tethering you to Cas and Az. Both males hunch over like kids caught sneaking sweets before dinner. Rhysand snorts and settles back in the desk chair to watch the show. You don’t need his powers to read your mates, even without the bond you know them like you know yourself; intrinsically.

“Let me guess—you started suspecting it first?” You turned to send a sharp glare in Az’s direction. “And you were content to wait, always patient, aren’t you, Shadowsinger? But then you,” You shifted your gaze to Cas, “started suspecting too. And it was fine until the bond snapped for both of you and you couldn’t get your thick heads out of your asses for long enough to talk about it, preferring to fight the bond because you weren’t willing to see what was right in front of you, and I ended up as collateral damage.”

Cassian looks like he’s about to speak but you hold a hand up to silence him. “You stupid, possessive brutes.”

It’s dead quiet, neither one daring to interrupt if you weren’t finished yet. Eventually, it’s Rhys who breaks the silence.

“She’s right, you know,” he says nonchalantly, examining his nails. “Things would have been much easier for her if you worked together instead of against each other.”

“Very helpful, thank you, your majesty,” Az spits sarcasm at Rhys, who holds his hands up in surrender.

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. Not much is known about Triad Bonds, but I’m willing to bet that the two of you need to accept each other, first, for it to take.”

“Whether or not it’s necessary, you will be accepting each other first. It’s a Triad Bond, I’m certain of it, because choosing one of you over the other would kill me,” you tell Cas and Az. Their downcast eyes and furrowed brows aren’t enough—they need to “I am not a toy for you to fight over. Either learn to share or learn to live with the consequences.”

Your words echo in both Cas and Az’s heads, rattling the mating bond.

“I will be going back to my apartment. Come and find me when you’re ready to have a civilized conversation about this.” You turn on your heel and stalk out of the room, leaving the three of them to talk. The pulsating magic and conflicting emotions in you settled for the time being; you said your piece, and now all you can do is wait and hope that they trust in the bond the same way you do.

Taglist: @wallacewillow0773638

[hanausaberry]

Golden Dawn Headcanons

(because i wish they had more growth with yunos character)

i've always felt a bit disappointed with how wrong tabata did the Golden Dawn, since I felt like they should've gotten some spotlight at one point because Yuno is literally the deuteragonist in Black Clover. like maybe get to know some of the characters like how he did with asta and the black bulls?? there isn't much about them so im just sooo curious ..

anyways off w the headcanons!

(starting off with some angst first i guess..?)

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

♧ i'm guessing they had around 30-50 members at most, and after the massacre the golden dawn was probably left with 25 members. and, after what happened, and after the battle with the dark triad, some of the surviving members left the golden dawn due to the traumatic event that happened to them. (either joining another squad if allowed too or just starting a new career.)

♧ after the whole massacre thing many of the squad's members were left with scars , emotionally and physically . it definitely took a while for the whole group to come together again. the loss of half of their squad members took a very serious toll on their heart. specifically mimosa. after hearing about what happened, she probably had a breakdown because she wasn't there to protect her squad.

♧ days after william was taken away, yuno couldn't sleep at ALL. (his eyes looked so exhausted in the manga..) he would visit his injured squadmates almost everyday.

♧ to add up to that last headcanon, yuno would train and train until he was onto the brink of passing out just so he could defeat zenon. he definitely overworked himself.

♧ david was also guilty as well, practically all of the members were. he cursed to himself that he should've been stronger during that unfortunate event. letoile was heart-broken, almost planning to quit being a magic knight, but the disappearance of her captain gave her hope to not give up, because she and other members of her Squad wanted to save Vangeance. They HAD to.

♧ alecdora is known for his stern personality, but after he failed to save his captain, he was distraught. like yuno, he could barely get any sleep.

♧ when langris asked yuno if he could train with him to defeat the dark triad (zenon specifically) , klaus, letoile, and david most definitely joined. they desired to strengthen their abilitiee so they could save their captain. (even though patry was the one to save william, it makes sense though..)

♧ klaus noticed yuno's drowsiness, so he would force him to get some rest out of worriness. but yuno always declined, responding to him that "rest isn't important right now. it's defeating zenon and the dark triad."

♧ after the battle was over, william tried to stay strong for the rest of the Golden Dawn members, however he ended up falling to his knees at their newly rebuilt refectory and sobbing, letting his bottled up emotions spill. this resulted in their members to quickly try and help him get up, but because of the grief dwelling within the squad, they also ended up crying with him. this lasted for about 20 minutes..

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

( those were long ass headcanons so lets move on to the chaotic and happy ones.)

♧ the golden dawn is known for their high prestige and nobility, the most "powerful" squad among the other magic knight brigades. but what the citizens of clover don't know is how secretly chaotic the golden dawn is. their basically the black bulls, just more sophisticated.

♧ i headcanon that when david first joined the golden dawn the base was in shambles because he kept playing pranks on the other members with his 🎲 magic..

♧ the members got so annoyed, especially alecdora. this resulted in them to asking william into strapping the boy down with his tree magic. (he declined duh, he just told david to stop and he listened 😭)

♧ david was basically the blue print of the chaoticness in the golden dawn. once he almost gambled his grimoire away until letoile stopped him. (he still lost it anyway the next day after because his stupid ahh thought that if he did he'll get an infinite amount of oranges. idc what anyone says. hes obsessed with oranges.)

♧ then there was basically a goose chase known as, "the disappearance of david swallowtail's grimoire." and it took two days for the squad to capture the person who got david's grimoire and get it back.

♧ the squad's definitely split into two sides of seriousness and cheerfulness 😭. this would lead into a lot of arguments especially when their eating.

♧ every member of the squad would have to have a secret stack of food with them because of hamon. im telling u if hamon sees or atleast smells food he's SNATCHING IT.

♧ their squad would always be packed with missions so it's hard for all of them to get together, so some of the members don't actually know each other much then they'd like too.

♧ you know that garden or field they have in their base? they definitely hangout there during their free days. it would give a sense of home and comfortness.

♧ every once in a while the golden dawn squad does these fashion shows (I CALL IT!) , and yuno, mimosa, or letoile would always end up winning. everyone votes david for last place because he never takes the themes seriously 😭

♧ one of the female members in the squad probably set up a trap spell along the girl's dormitories like what vanessa did with her thread magic because of a specific SOMEONE. (Ahem david. he's always sneaking into every room and drawing beards on their faces.. maybe with hamon too..)

♧ you guys know that red haired golden dawn member who has a crush on yuno? (to be honest, it's kinda more implied on the anime since i never saw the crush thing pop up in the manga, but lets forget thatt..) her squad mates would definitely tease her for it despite some of the other girls in her squad also having a crush on him.

♧ once david annoyed her too much about yuno and she ended up beating him up 😰.

this is her ^ v ^! she's so pretty i wish tabata gave her a name.. anyways thats all im WAY too lazy for this.

[windvexer]

I think "spreadwork" sounds weird but idk what else to call it

I think a lot of modern tarot spreads assume that the key to a powerful spread is figuring out exactly how to phrase a question, and so the best spreads have the most curated lists of questions.

If we take a spread type people seem to have trouble with - let's go with spirit communication - the take seems to be, "you're just not wording your question correctly," or, "you're just not asking the right questions."

So a spirit communication tarot spread becomes, "here is a list of seven carefully worded questions - draw one card for each."

I'm not denying that learning how to frame questions is an important part of reading tarot.

But I do think it might not be as important as learning how to build spreads that are resilient enough to answer almost any question (within a certain category), even if it's phrased badly.

I think a huge part of tarot (and one that may unfortunately be lost or difficult to obtain with digital decks) is learning, for lack of a better term, "spreadwork" - how the actual placement and designations of the cards are actively involved in adding information to your reading.

When I say "designations" of the cards, here is what I mean:

Some spreads assign a specific question to a card, while other spreads designate what part of your own question a card should answer.

Suppose you would like a reading on your career. If you go to find a premade spread, one of them might look like this:

Card 1: What to focus on in your work life.

Card 2: Your greatest professional strength.

This spread is providing a list of inquiries. You draw one card for each.

However, a different spread may provide designations to respond to a topic of your own choosing, like this:

Card 1: What you are wrong about, or see without clarity.

Card 2: Information you thought was important, but won't end up mattering.

In this second example, we can choose our own specific question, such as, "will this job opportunity work out, or should I start looking for a new job?" And the spread will start giving answers: "When it comes to your job opportunity, what you're wrong about is..."

This is in contrast to the first set, where the questions are provided for you. "Should you seek a new job? Well, your greatest professional strength is being a good listener, does that help?"

And I think as readers, some of that skill - to learn how to assign your own designations - has been lost, superseded by emphasis on learning how to phrase questions.

There are infinite ways to designate a card, but we can consider a few common categories: signifiers; past, present, or future; final outcome; significant details and major theme; subtext and external influences; pitfalls, roadblocks or easiest paths; advice; and a category which I'll call negative cards - "this is not the correct path, this is not the advice to take away from this reading, this is not going to be the outcome."

And then you start to say - okay. I want to work with a signifier. That's my first card. But this spread is about feeling burdened, so when I place my cards, the signifier will be at the "bottom" of the spread.

And I want to know the most major thing blocking me. It's important - I'll put it at the top. One card. But that's not enough detail. So below that I'll have a couple of triads - the details triad, the past/present/future triad, and the "what am I doing wrong?" triad. Now it's an eleven card spread - one signifier, one major theme, and a set of three triads with their own designations.

Then you work with the spread a few times, and it flows okay, but not great. Details are repeated. There's a lot of dead weight on this spread, and the most difficult part to work with is the "what am I doing wrong?" triad.

So now we practice spreadwork (cardwork? idk.). And we take that troublesome triad and make it, "what is my best advice? What am I doing right?"

But of course that doesn't fit with the flow, it's a bunch of support cards in the middle of a blockage spread, so you take that triad out and put it beneath the burdened signifier - and now it's a foundation of support, a solid rock on which to stand.

This is what I mean by learning to work with spreads as a skill regardless of how you phrase the question. At that point, what does it matter if you phrase the question "what is blocking me?" or "what is my greatest blockage?" or "show me what's stopping me from succeeding?"

The question and how it's phrased becomes incidental to learning to work with the flow of information, learning to feel the energetic movement between the cards.

Do you always have to draw clarifiers for a certain card? Examine your designation - what piece of information do you always need to make the reading complete? Then add in a new permanent position to fill that need - "this is my greatest burden (card 1), it specifically exists within this part of my life (card 2)."

There are other aspects to explore also - will you flip over all the cards at once, or just one at a time? Will you lay the cards out in a geometric grid and read the relationships between mirrored pairs? Will you stack cards on top of each other? Will you move and rearrange the cards half-way through the reading to produce something danged awesome?

I'm sure people are getting tired of me ranting about it, but the longer I read, the more I become convinced that the pictures on the card and the book meanings that go along with it take up such a smaller piece of the interpretation pie than I once believed. I now believe that other factors - such as how you choose to organize a spread, and the designations within it - constitute a large part of the information flow within a tarot spread. I think it is somewhat telling that if I want to do a very specific, concise reading, the "card meanings" constitute a minority of information gathering.

[yolkchild]

Why do you ship what you ship? (Not judging, just asking!!)

The ship I'm craziest about, Putty/Orel, I find it to tread the line between healthy and toxic just right as to make for both messy scenarios and opportunities for mutual growth, and I think the growth aspect ends up neglected in most (but not all) other ships you can conjure up for this show's cast. Which isn't to say the pure messes aren't enjoyable, they are, it can be fun to see people act pathetic or self-centered or hurtful; but I've come to appreciate balance more and more at this point in my life. I've also come to appreciate religiosity a lot more, the way I see it there's a lot of room for those themes in a relationship between a disillusioned reverend and his number one zealot. And oh, the sweetness of the Revs choosing to listen to that boy's advice, like no one else would in this town, and the paradox of having one of the perpetrators of dogma also become a refuge from it, in his accidentally-benevolent hypocrisy. Orel would have a modicum of a safe space, where he can be heard and seen and appreciated, where he can express more of himself—maybe even have a cooler father figure in some aspects. Even if Orel's still susceptible to Moralton's lies to the point of great damage, or the burden of their secret gets heavy, or Rod gets selfish and deceptive and presumptuous at times. Balance: sometimes you sway left and then right and back left until you find those sweet spots, instabilities and stabilities often walk together.

That, and I'm a sucker for age differences. I used to be more shameful about it, I like to think I'm not as much nowadays, but it's a powerful thing to me, all the possibilities that can happen in such a gap. I'm also just drawn to religious figures and I think Reverend Putty is hot and relatable, and Orel is also hot and relatable, so naturally what you do is put them together and identify as all roles between them.

Most my other ships would be preying on my age thing. Creepler, anything with Creepler, he's a little embarrassing to elaborate on because he's pure indulgence for me. There's a certain freedom in enjoying Bad Guys because any judgements come more immediate, they're easier to get out of the way and allow for deeper exploration of their psyches, their motivations and the environments shaping them, since the goal no longer becomes getting a righteous message across. Especially compelling is seeing what relates a Bad Guy to their more innocuous peers: I'm sure Creepler and Sculptham share enough in common to warrant multiple "dates." To me, Creepler can't love without Doughy who can't love without Sculptham who can't love without Creepler, this triad is crucial to understanding each character and their relationships to one another. The teacher with a complicated relationship with sex and men, the shady pedophile who fills her needs in a twisted way, the easy target they share who just wants to be seen. It's one pure mess as I've described earlier, it's bleak and no one truly wins, but broken houses can stay upright for a long time.

There's a lot more I'm fond of, ship-wise, both problematic and not. Danielle and the Puppingtons, cool. The Puppingtons themselves, awesome. Rod and the Puppingtons? Oo la la. Stephanie and every possible single woman, hell yeah let's see where this goes. Chances are, if I hadn't considered it or if I avoid doing so, if I'm not crazy about it, it's probably because the motivation behind a pairing (or its discussion) turned to have more to do with real-world messaging than the chemistry the characters have.

[roetrolls]

Loose Reins

Zerkev is just about sick of dealing with clowns. Putting up with Yumeno’s useless ass was bad enough, but this? This is something else.

“I should kill them both right now,” the Marauder spits, his vision practically blurred with the heat of his rage. In front of him, the Dominion cocks his head, a finger resting against his cheek and the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

“Just them?” he asks, amused. “How merciful.”

In a flash, three golden prongs are leveraged at his throat. The giant allows his glowing gaze to drift, briefly, to the trident in his overseer’s hands.

“You crossed the line,” Zerkev growls through a throat full of gravel, expression dangerously cold. “A smarter man would be begging on his knees for my forgiveness.”

“A younger man, maybe. I fear I’d struggle to get up again.”

“Is this a joke to you, Mahkir?”

“A joke? Never. Amusing though, certainly.”

Zerkev’s face darkens, almost imperceptibly, but the purpleblood is keen enough to spot it. He straightens slightly in his throne, shifting away from the weapon with as much subtlety as he can manage. Imposing as Harlan’s stature may be, it is not his presence that sucks the air from the room.

“Take your weapon,” the general orders.

Harlan regards him curiously. “Is it a fight you want, Pravus? I thought you smarter than that.”

“Take. Your weapon.”

Wordlessly, the Dominion follows his command, reaching over his seat’s left side to close his bulky fingers around the club that lays propped against its base. He twirls it idly in his hand and moves to rise, empty right fist gripping the throne’s arm for leverage.

Then, before he can stand, he is forced back by the triad of spikes that Zerkev plunges through his bicep, piercing both skin and muscle in one single, practiced thrust. Pink light bounces off the golden surface once more as Harlan turns his eyes to the injury, the mild bewilderment they carry masking any hint of the pain he must be feeling.

“I see,” he sneers before turning his focus back to the seadweller.

“Where did you find him?”

“Oh? Was I meant to be involved in your little manhunt?”

He can feel the fury pooling in his gut, but Zerkev maintains an eerie calm as he turns the trident, a half inch at most, and watches the clown grit his teeth in response. A warning.

“You involved yourself,” he hisses coolly, “when you sent your dogs after my child.”

“Such a strange practice, parenthood. Hard to imagine you of all trolls denying the natural order of things so egregiously.”

“I did not ask for your commentary.”

“You’re not here for a chat?”

Zerkev growls, fins flaring in agitation, and Harlan breaks into a grin. It’s rare to see such emotional displays from the Marauder, and even with the man’s weapon lodged in his arm, he is clearly delighted. They both know how transparent--how vulnerable--he has just made himself.

“What are you here for, Pravus? Do you know?”

“I am reminding you of your place.”

“How is that going?”

It takes everything in Zerkev’s power not to twist his trident in response. As much as Harlan deserves the goring, rewarding him with such a strong reaction would serve only to grant him more power. The Marauder exhales through his nose and squares his jaw, certain that his knuckles have gone white beneath his gloves.

“You are on very thin ice, Mahkir,” he warns him instead, fighting to keep his voice level over the thrum of blood in his ears.

“So I can see.”

With a snarl, Zerkev lunges forward and grabs the behemoth by the collar, yanking hard to bring the clown’s face level with his own. Harlan’s eyes widen slightly, surprise momentarily wiping the smug expression from his face.

“I understand this may be beyond what a heartless bastard like you can comprehend,” the seadweller grits, “but I want you to listen to me, Mahkir. Very. Carefully. If you ever touch my son again, I will kill you.”

His quiet intensity is enough to startle even Harlan, and the clown opens his mouth silently in search of a response.

“You hear me, you overgrown brute? No fancy threats, no dramatic vagueries; the next time you come for one of mine, it’s your head.” He jiggles the trident for good measure, his tone eerily calm for the promise it carries.

Harlan regards him carefully, still hunched awkwardly in Zerkev’s grip, then that cantankerous smile emerges once more. “You know, the past twelve sweeps make far more sense to me now.”

Confusion and wariness creep onto the seadweller’s face in tandem. Harlan continues with a hum. 

“I’d assumed it was merely your usual neuroses, but… Blood of all things? That is a rather glaring weakness, isn’t it?”

The Marauder’s stony expression drops, and Harlan pulls out of his slackened grasp to sit up straight again.

“I’d have cut my losses the moment I learned of it, personally. Terrible liability.” He taps a finger against his chin, his casual, musing tone a stark contrast to the threat behind his gaze. “So easy to leverage.”

The comment, as simple as it is, is exactly enough to push the general over the edge. He can almost feel it as the final straw lands upon his back, and with fangs bared, he at last gives in to the impulse that has plagued him since he entered this wretched chapel: 

Hurt him. 

A growl bubbles from Zerkev’s chest as he wrenches the trident in Harlan’s arm, inviting three thick streams of viscous purple blood to ooze from the wound as he gives the staff a vicious, painful twist. The Dominion masks his grimace with a snarl, free arm shooting across his chest to grip the pole and hold it still. 

“Your audacity is mind-boggling,” Zerkev hisses. “You want to play extortion, Mahkir? Fine.”

Satisfied for now with the violence he has inflicted, he tugs the trident free from his underling’s flesh, leaving the giant to clamp his dominant left hand over the gaping holes now bleeding freely in his arm. 

He should have known better than to threaten the snake himself. Harlan thinks himself invincible, and any harm Zerkev could promise the man would be easily dismissed. Making a real, actionable threat is going to require a different approach.

“If Mallum ever comes to harm, by your words or by your actions,” he scowls, “I will personally see to it that no grub bearing your name will leave the caverns again.”

The Dominion’s lip twitches, pulling back into a lopsided snarl that broadcasts exactly how easily this new angle has burrowed beneath his skin. Zerkev, however, is too busy seething to appreciate the triumph.

“That glorious symbol of yours will be nothing more than a marker-- a note to the caverns to cull on sight and exterminate your pathetic spawn like the pests they are.”

Now it is Harlan’s turn to growl. It rolls from his chest in a low, menacing wave, blanketing the church with the noise. His rumbling permeates the senses, seeming almost to grow louder as the scene begins to shift.

Shift?

Sunlight trickles past the curtains in a thin, shining stream, guiding Zurven’s eye across each of the sleeping forms slowly coming into focus beside him.

There is no trident in his hand-- only Veylin’s delicate fingers laced loosely with his own. The sound that all but shakes their walls is merely Benjin’s gentle snore, oddly soothing despite its volume, and perfectly in place within the dimly lit bedroom. 

The oracle sits up sluggishly, still blinking the sleep from his eyes and squinting through the dark to look at Mallum dozing on the bed’s outer edge. Zurven watches his chest rise and fall, gills fluttering in time, and takes a deep breath of his own.

He’s going to throttle that idiot.

[password-door-lock]

“You know, you can stay here, if you want.” 

Saeran turns to stare at you in utter disbelief. He doesn’t need to let you know that your suggestion has left him absolutely baffled— you can tell already from the look in his eyes. He's spent the better part of the past few days doing everything in his power to break your spirit, but now, you can practically see the guilt draped over his shoulders, weighing him down as he regards you with utter confusion. You could understand if being around you were too painful for Saeran to handle right now, if your very presence in his space were a reminder of the horrible things he’s done in the name of the Mint Eye. You wouldn’t hold it against him if he laughed in your face and took the opportunity to slink off into the night.

But you don't know what kind of person you'd be if you didn't at least give him the option of staying by your side.  He might not believe that he deserves to be with you, but you need him to know that the invitation is always there for him. You want to make it clear to Saeran that he and Ray are both special to you, and that despite the nuances of your (admittedly very complex) triad dynamic, you love both of them with equal fervor. You want him to understand that everything is up to him— you won’t force Saeran to stay with you if he doesn’t want to, but you won’t let him force himself to leave if he wants to be here, either. 

“What are you talking about?” He asks eventually. There’s hesitance in his tone that you’ve never heard there before, but you suppose you can't really blame him. It breaks your heart to think of how he’s been treated— of course, he’s never explicitly told you anything about his trauma, but he’s let enough clues slip that you were able to piece together a devastating picture. You already know that Saeran won’t accept your pity, and you don’t hold that against him, either. All you want to do is let him know that he’s loved. 

“If you want to, you should stay,” you repeat, in much more decisive terms. Maybe if Saeran is sure that you actually want him here, that you’re neither trying to placate him nor being nice just for the sake of it, he’ll be more inclined to follow his own heart. You don’t want him to leave just because he thinks you want him gone— but you also don’t want him to stay just because he thinks you want him here. “You could get some rest with me, Saeran. Just for a little while. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course— it’s up to you.” 

“I can't,” he tells you, voice shaking almost as much as it did when he grabbed you by the shoulders and screamed that he is nothing like that woman. You get the feeling that he wasn’t talking about Rika, though you know better than to bring this up with Saeran. Three hours ago, he was still pretending that he meant you harm. You can’t imagine how monumental it was for him to give you this apology, and you won’t take his sacrifice so lightly. He can tell you what he wants to— assuming he wants to tell you anything at all— in his own time. “I— you don't need me right now. You need Ray, and—” His voice is thick with the tears that he’s restraining. Even now, he’s forcing himself to be strong when he doesn’t need to. If only he would realize that he’s safe with you— but after the life that he’s lived, you really can’t fault him for keeping his guard up. 

“I love you just as much as I love Ray,” you assure him, not wanting to harp too much on the matter of him staying or going. You hope that someday you can show him how much you love him, but the last thing you want to do is press.  You’ve done what you can— he knows that you’d be happy to have him here. “Please just listen to your heart. Whatever you decide, I trust you and I love you.” You hope he knows that this applies to more than just the situation at hand.

He swallows, and you can tell that he's still fighting off tears. You suppose he’d be good at it, considering he’s spent his whole life fighting— if not the tears, then himself, and if not himself, then the RFA, and if not the RFA, then Ray, and if not Ray, then Rika, or whoever else has done him harm throughout his life. You wish more than anything that you could steal all of that pain from him, wrench it out of his grip the way that he’s stolen so many things from you over the course of the past few days. But you know that you can’t do that— even if it were possible, you have to prioritize Saeran’s needs above your own urges. It’s true that living at Magenta breeds anger, but from what you’ve seen, the Mint Eye thrives on rage. You and Saeran both need the space to live a calm and happy life together, though if he’s planning on staying here in any capacity, you don’t expect that to happen anytime soon.

 God, when will the universe just allow this man a fucking break? He has truly been through hell over and over again since the moment he was born, hasn't he? You can't change his past, but you can try your hardest to improve his future. “Okay,” he says eventually, not taking off his stiff suit jacket as he lays down beside you, on top of the covers while you huddle under them. Is he still worried about intruding, after all the things you’ve told him, or is he just concerned about the temperature? “Are you sure you still want me here after everything?” 

“Of course I’m sure. I’m listening to my heart, too,” you assure him. “Is cuddling okay?” You ask tentatively.

You already know that this is a huge step for Saeran, and you'd be happy to know that he was laying down on any bed, resting at all— the fact that he's here with you right now is almost more than you could ask for. Almost. Because you want to do everything in your power to make him comfortable, to let him know he's loved, and you want to cling to him and never let go. You're terrified of what might happen in the morning, and you're not an idiot, no matter how many times this beautiful man reclining beside you has thrown that word in your direction. You know that the moment you fall asleep, he'll climb out the window and leave you here alone— and that's just fine, you tell yourself, perfectly fine, but you know it isn’t. It's his decision to make, yeah, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't wish he'd make a different one. There has to be a way that you, Saeran, and Ray can all escape this place safely.

“Yes,” he breathes, still engaged in that uphill battle with those same, deeply pent-up tears. He makes no move to embrace you, as if he’s waiting for you to set the tone of the interaction, as if he’s unsure of what should happen next. “I’d like that.” His voice is so quiet that you can barely hear him— but you don’t need him to repeat himself. You’ve got the message. 

So you bring your arms around him and you pull him close. “It's okay, Saeran,” you breathe, “You can cry if you need to. You’re not weak for crying. I hope you know that.” You would be a fool to believe that you could pull out every last idea that Rika ever planted in his head with only that one utterance, but you hope you can at least do something to help. 

Saeran releases a heavy sigh, and then he follows your suggestion. You just hold him and rub his back as he sobs, grateful for the opportunity to offer him some much-needed comfort. After all, you love this man, just as much as you love Ray.

[loosesodamarble]

As Time Moves On Part 4: The Mystery in Spade

Summary: The reconstruction effort in Spade Kingdom brings about a disturbing revelation. Genre: general Word count: ~1800

..........

The bitter cold was nothing new to the Spade Kingdom. Winters were long and harsh. Summers were fleeting like a breeze. But the people of Spade became resilient over the generations, especially so after the reign of terror that was the Zogratis family.

Thanks to the efforts of Spade’s Resistance Force and Clover Kingdom’s Magic Knights, freedom and peace were restored.

The long night known as the Devil Banishment War was passed. And the people of Spade, with renewed hope and strength, worked to usher in a new era of peace.

…..

“Thanks to the citizens, as well as the aid sent from Heart and Clover, we’re keeping a decent pace for the reconstruction plans we initially put forth.”

“Diamond Kingdom is in a state of political unrest. Not only from the Zogratis annexing some of their territory but also due to internal conflicts. We can’t expect any word from them any time soon.”

“We’ve sent messengers to Lumi Kingdom regarding assistance. There’s no telling how long it will take for them to respond though.”

“Every resident of the capital city has confirmed that they have new lodging. Either within another town or in the nearby tent cities.”

Ciel nodded along as her team of advisors filled her in on the state of affairs. It fell to her to lead her people after the Zogratis family was removed from power. She wished she didn’t have to do it alone, that Loyce was still there sharing the burden.

But Loyce was no longer of this world. He was in a better place. So Ciel made it her duty to restore Spade to the joyous land they’d once led together.

While listening to her advisors, Ciel also concentrated her mana on a spell: Full Moon Haven.

With the spell, she imbued an area with the gentle light of the moon, healing wounds and restoring stamina. She’d learned it years ago, before ever being queen, and in the present, she used it to tend to the many volunteers who toiled to clear debris and find those who were injured or killed during the Devil Banishment War. It was a blessing to have in her grimoire, as it meant she was able to serve her people as kindly as they served her.

“How soon do you think the capital will be rebuilt?” Ciel asked while slowly diminishing her mana output.

“Due to…” Albert, the leader of the resistance and one of Ciel’s advisors, paused and cleared his throat. It was more to break the tension that came with what he was about to say. “Due to the King of Devils leveling most of the capital city, there hasn’t been much large debris so clearing the land has been quick work. However, we can’t proceed quite yet as the task of recovering the bodies of the deceased has come to a standstill. It’s concerning the… high priority ones.”

Ciel’s eyes went wide and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep her face composed.

“I see.”

Ciel finished casting Full Moon Haven and sent off the patients, either to their lodgings or to a more skilled healer for severe wounds. Then, she and the advisors slipped away, towards the shadows of the castle ruins.

There were some questions she would need answered in privacy.

Dante Zogratis, Vanica Zogratis, and Zenon Zogratis of the Dark Triad. Moris Libardirt, former Magic Scholar of the Diamond Kingdom.

While reports from Clover’s Magic Knights attested to their downfalls, Ciel and her advisors had made it a priority to find their bodies again to confirm their deaths. The people of Spade had put their all into the task alongside preparing for the rebuilding of homes. And yet after four months…

“Has nothing from any of them been recovered?”

Ciel’s advisors frowned grimly.

“Are we certain that we’ve checked every possible nook and cranny of the castle? We’ve left no piece of rubble unturned? We haven’t ignored any rooms by accident, have we?” Ciel inquired between deep breaths.

“Your Majesty, we’re sure,” Albert answered and bowed his head slightly. “This was our fifth full area search. We cannot find a trace of them.”

Ciel wrung her hands together. Closed her eyes, squeezed them shut tight. She took deep breaths. Deep, slow, trying-to-prevent-panic breaths. With a final exhale, Ciel opened her eyes and looked her advisors in the eyes.

“Thank you for informing me,” she stated with the grace she’d practiced as queen. “If I may, I ask that I have a moment to myself.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the advisors spoke in unison as they bowed their heads. Then, they turned and left her be.

When Ciel felt sure she was on her own, she let out a heavy sigh. She placed her hands over her heart, feeling its anxious rhythm. After the coup and so many years living in hiding and praying for a miracle, Ciel believed she’d gotten used to being worried. But no, she’d only been used to worrying about the Dark Triad finding her to finish what they’d started.

Now, she feared that they could return and ruin the peace that was still new to the kingdom.

Ciel paced the area.

Yuno’s personal witness testimony detailed how Zenon turned into a devil and how his body crumbled upon defeat. The search for his body had been futile from the start. But that didn’t explain why nothing of Vanica, Dante, or Moris was found. Could it be that their bodies were completely crushed in the rubble? And that only unidentifiable, rotting bits of flesh and bloodstains remained?

Or…

Ciel shuddered.

There were individuals, the Dark Disciples, who earnestly followed the Zogratises. Is it possible that some of them survived and salvaged their leaders’ bodies? And since the Dark Disciples had no qualms about using Forbidden Magic, if the bodies were found… Then…

Her breath caught in her throat.

Vanica’s piercing, maniacal laugh while demanding a fight echoed in her ears.

Zenon’s listless gaze flashed across her mind’s eye, as if burned into her memory.

Dante’s hands and how they so carelessly dropped Loyce’s body to the floor, prepared to take her life next, made her body tremble.

Not again… She didn’t want the terror to return… To lose everything all over again…

Ciel clenched her hands into fists and shook her head.

“Don’t worry. Spade is safe now,” Yuno had said with a hushed confidence. “And I won’t let it come to harm again. As the next Wizard King, it’d be my duty to.”

A half-hearted laugh slipped past Ciel’s lips. Yuno’s statement didn’t make much sense but his heart was in the right place. It was in a place full of hope.

“That’s right…” Ciel told herself. “I can’t give into fear. Not now.”

There wasn’t a chance that Ciel would let herself give up so easily after everything that she and her people had endured. Not after hope in the form of mages from Clover and Heart arrived and chased away the darkness. Not after she got to see the man her son had become and still strove to be.

The Queen of Spade looked to the sky. The clouds were gray as per usual. However, their shade appeared lighter than usual.

…..

“Dear people of Spade Kingdom. I thank you all for gathering today so that I may address you regarding our current reconstruction efforts.”

Ciel’s voice carried across the crowd of people. Their faces showed tiredness and concern but mostly curiosity.

“As of now, we’re making good progress in rebuilding our kingdom.”

Smiles began to appear on people’s faces.

Ciel went on to summarize how clean up has concluded, how foreign aid would continue to be provided, and how resources were being allocated for the various reconstruction projects. The good news that she shared made the people’s moods brighter. And it lightened Ciel’s own heart to know that Spade was already rising up.

All that good news, though, would be soured by the troubling announcement she had to make next.

“There are many good things in store for Spade as we continue to rebuild our kingdom. However, it is with a heavy heart that I also deliver bad news to you all. It is a matter of transparency that I tell you all. While parties worked to recover the bodies of the deceased for proper burials, a select group was tasked with finding the bodies of specific individuals: the Dark Triad and their conspirator Moris Liberdirt. I and my advisors desired to confirm without a reasonable doubt that those four were indeed dead. Unfortunately, nothing of them has been recovered during these last four months.”

The grinning faces fell away and color drained from many complexions.

“As your queen, I apologize for being unable to fully confirm their deaths. I apologize for having to deliver such a frightening message. But I felt that you needed to know, so that you may understand my dedication to putting everyone at ease and giving them reason to have even greater hope, even if I could not follow through this time.

“The Zogratises and Moris haven’t turned up thus far and we might have to consider that their bodies may never turn up. However! We cannot let the memory of the Zogratis family and their actions hold us captive. My dear and brave citizens, I implore you! Let us remember how we have endured and overcome a dark period of our kingdom’s history. Let us bolster our spirits with resolve. We shall rebuild the Spade Kingdom to what it once was and make new memories for the next generation of our people!”

After Ciel’s voice dissipated into the sky, silence permeated the crowd.

Ciel looked upon her people.

Let my prayer resonate with them…

Then,

“For Spade Kingdom!” a voice from the crowd yelled.

“Towards a brighter future!” cried another as they raised their fist.

“Aye!”

“This is our kingdom again!”

“Here here!”

Shouts of determination arose, a testament to how the people had been weakened but not broken.

It was later decided that the corpses of Dante, Vanica, Zenon, and Moris didn’t need to be found. In all likelihood, the Zogratis family and Moris were dead. Their bodies lost to the land and their souls damned for their cruelty. As cold as it sounded, Ciel was glad to think that to be the case.

Uncertainty nestled within Ciel’s heart. However, the memory of her son’s affirmation and the optimistic calls of her citizens drowned out the whisper of fear.

[gamesimp]

Mr. American Pie - A Mafia 3 Fanfiction (Part 2)

Note: long time no post, I suck at this so I tried doing more effort this time ughh.

Life with Donovan was perfect, we managed to get a new house in the suburbs, we managed to balance crime and a normal life. I was a co-leader of the Southeast Asian-American Triads. Consisting of mostly Vietnamese and Filipino immigrants who look for money, power and refuge from the War in Vietnam or the racist American society who looks down on them. But as my main job, I work as a manager at the shitty airport where I always need to rid the runway of gators. I thought being able to manage the airport was a good decision since it is Southeast Asian-American turf. As of Donovan, he still is Lincoln's advisor.

It was a summer sunday afternoon and it was absolutely burning. I decided I would stay in my skivies to cool myself down. While I was making some iced tea in the kitchen. I heard the doorbell ring. I picked up my gun but the person at the doorbell started to ring it impatiently.

"im coming wait right there!"

I ran towards the door and opened the door halfway while hiding my gun. I loomed to see who was outside and there stood a woman.

"Uhm, isn't Mr. Donovan supposed to live here?"

She asked.

"Yeah, why do you ask?"

"Im an old friend of his, Im Jackie, Jackie Grimaldi."

"Oh, I think hes told me about you."

"Can I come inside?"

"yeah, come in."

I lead her to the living room.

"are you (your name)?"

She asked while I brought Iced tea to the living room.

"Why are you asking?"

"Youre from Sinclair Parish RightYou killed an entire bunch of klan members because they killed your Filipino-American family and neighbors?"

"oh that's me! Where did you get that info?"

"I remember you! You we're also close to Mr. Clay!"

Donovan finally arrived. They had a short chat about reminiscing about the past back in Vietnam.

I went back to the kitchen and looked at the calendar, it reminded me of the years I've spent with Donovan, and I realised we can't get married no matter what we do. We don't know any priests that could elope us. We only know Father James, (who ignores us unless hes about to say negative remarks to start a fight with Donovan or Lincoln after church)

I realise its time for me to go to work.

"Donnie! I'm heading out for work!"

"Have a good day at work!"

He yells back as i walk out the door.

I got to my new car, It was an AMC Pacer, not the quickest but at least, it isn't too flashy.

I turn the key and the engine comes on. I tune the radio to WNBX and it plays "Barracuda" by Heart. I went on my way to the airport and started my job. I was in my office when the phone rang.

"It's me, Lincoln. Make sure cops aren't settin foot on that runway, we got a shipment of stolen cars from Japan coming in!"

"sure thing buddy!"

I walked towards the runway and conversed with a Japanese man.

"Hello sir, please to meet you!"

I yelled and bowed as the jet engines roared around us.

"Kuray-San (Clay-San) has started operations with the Yakuza! But we need your help removing the communist gangs from here!"

"The bratva if im right?"

I asked

"Yes mister, we, the Yakuza need your help to get the Russians out of the picture, they always steal our products! And they seem to dislike Mr Clay San's work!"

"understood! I'll notify him immediately!"

I said as the Yakuza members got into his Toyota limousine and was escorted by a bunch of Datsun Z's and other JDM sport cars. I decided to drive to the bar and tell Lincoln about it.

I parked by the backdoor. I walked to the backdoor panting and in a hurry. I knocked 3 times. I anxiously waited for Lincoln to open the door. The door burst open.

"Hey there! Whats the rush?"

"We need a meeting at the plantations!"

I quickly replied.

We all arranged a sit down with 5 other bosses, Burke, Vito, Cassandra, and two new underbosses. Sister Ling who is in the Chinese Triads, and Rafael Guzman, from the Colombian cartel.

"Ok guys, listen up! Donovan will present new enemy for the Clay Crime family and for all of you!"

Donovan used a corkboard for is presentation.

"basically, these Ruskies want half of all our business, but ever since Lincoln didn't agree with the deal, they started disrupting rackets and trade with the other international gangs. We need to show these fucking communists thay we dont give a shit, and they can go fuck themselves go back to Mother Russia!"

"all right!!"

I said and the other underbosses started hooting and laughing.

[meximango]

Day 24 - Bar - Altani + Mogren - G

Summary: Finding a public place a moogle can drink without issue can be hard.

–

Altani and Mogren often liked to partake in some alcohol after a difficult mission. It helped them unwind and was equally as effective at drowning their sorrows if a quest went poorly, or allowing them to get wild in celebration for a job well done. 

Unfortunately, most of Hydaelyn’s populous was not ready to accept the existence of moogles on a wide scale, yet. They were barely ready to start seeing Spoken ‘beast folk’ as people, let alone creatures of myth, whimsical beings thought to exist only in fairy tales. It was truly amazing the origin of the postal service remained secret all these years, with only a special few privy to the truth of its moogle workers. 

Altani loved Mogren with all her heart. They'd been the best of friends ever since she was a little kid, and she couldn't see that ever changing. However, there were a few challenges to having a best friend who always had to stay hidden. Mogren was great at illusion magic, so it wasn't that hard to block a few others from seeing them–when sober, at least. It became monumentally more difficult when tipsy or among a huge crowd, especially if they were focusing on other things–such as healing Altani or playing an inspirational minuet to power her up in battle. 

Their close circle of friends and fellow adventurers knew about Mogren, whereas not even her family or village had met her adorable, fluffy friend (if that lie got revealed, it would only unearth a much bigger, more serious, lie–one she wasn’t ready to get banned from her village over.) 

Thus, some social sacrifices were made, and she didn’t drink in establishments unless she was alone. She enjoyed adventuring with her fellow warriors of light when she could, but that wasn’t always possible. Where one threat popped up in Thavnair, two more were as likely to appear in Hingashi and Aldenard. When together, they could have a lively get together all on their own at camp. For a major threat or downtime, she’d travel to Eorzea or the others to Othard to band together and catch up, but most of the time it was just Altani and Mogren finding their own battles to win and peoples to help. 

With just the two of them, that meant drinking together. Nobody else. It wasn’t really lonely, Altani could never feel alone when she had Mogren with her. But it was nice to be surrounded by a crowd, too. To just watch people idly and listen to gossip, and soak in the atmosphere of camaraderie. To play or watch a few rounds of triple triad and challenge the beefiest people in the room to arm wrestling matches.

They couldn’t take those chances, if they were drinking. Mogren would be likely to dissipate their illusion by accident, and then they'd have a panicked bar full of people asking what the hell was that, or trying to squish Mogren’s face and smother them into oblivion. The mood would be ruined. (Altani… may have to forever avoid a few establishments thanks to learning this the hard way.)

At first, Mogren stayed hidden as always, but there were rather a lot of children running around the place, and young ones were always the best at seeing through the glamour. A few kids pointed them out and asked Altani how many gold saucer points she needed to buy such a cute little mammet. Others asked if Mogren was some special prize from lord of verminion, as they’d never seen such a special and detailed minion before. Mogren puffed up at these accusations that they were just some simple toy, but this worked in both of their favor, so Altani said it was her little secret and kept it at that. The kids liked guessing and it’s not like she’d likely see any of them again, so she let them have their fun. 

 Altani knew Mogren didn’t have as much fun if they had to stay sober while she enjoyed a few rounds of ale, plus then Altani wouldn’t be able to respond to Mogren’s conversation without looking crazy.  As much as Altani wanted to go to large parties and enjoy a hero's celebration after an impressive martial feat with her buddy, she often declined. After all, Mogren deserved just as much credit as her in her adventuring successes, and she always felt guilty and found it unfair if she had to celebrate alone. It just wasn't as fun without Mogren; she’d spend the whole time missing them!

They’d tried drinking with other moogles a few times, but that often got far too rowdy, and their king even had to get involved once. Altani didn’t want to be driven out of the Churning Mists forever, so she gave up on that. Drinking in Bahrr Lehs did not go any better, as the dragons needed far more alcohol to try to get drunk than an adventurer’s salary could afford. She stuck to just crafting for the dragons and moogles in that area, maybe doing a fun mogdance every once in a while.

For the most part, they just bought a good amount of alcohol ahead of time, set up camp somewhere, and whiled the night away with drink, song, dance, and stories by themselves. They were a plenty energetic duo to make do on their own and have a good time. It was enough.

However, the search had idly continued in the background, to find a place they could go together without illusions. They eventually discovered one incredibly public place full of all sorts of different folk that apparently wouldn’t blink twice at the sight of a moogle: The Manderville Gold Saucer. Altani had first made her way to the place while some ‘make it rain’ event was going on. She saw posters plastered everywhere when visiting Ul’dah, so she decided to give it a chance. 

When nothing bad happened after that encounter, Altani encouraged Mogren to become visible on purpose. There were so many people running around in costumes here, they’d probably think Mogren was a decoration or maybe an employee at worst. Hells, even the sabotenders seemed to be people in getups! (maybe? She saw at least one lalafell put a costume on, but it was hard to tell if some were the real deal. It only increased her confidence that this was someplace Mogren could be visible without getting driven away). 

They tried it out, and after a bell, still nothing bad had happened. “Finally!” Altani cried out, fistpumping the air. “Look, Mogren, nobody here gives a shit about you!”

“Don’t sound so excited when you say something like that, Tani!”

“You know what I mean. But seriously, who would have thought you would fit right in at an arcade? This is the perfect place to celebrate, and the directory here says they have a bar upstairs!”

“You’re right that nobody has seemed suspicious of me so far, kupo. Is this too good to be true?”

“I dunno, but I think it’s worth trying. According to the introduction plaque over here, this place is meant for anyone, so that must include moogles!”

Mogren sighed. Those signs were meant for standard Spoken folk, certainly. They didn’t see this place teeming with ixali or goblins, after all. Still, they had a crane machine called ‘moogle’s paw’ that, if it came down to it, Mogren could spin a lie and tell people that they were just a walking advertisement for that game. They put aside their uncertainties and decided to have fun. “Right you are–I belong here! Let’s go find some games to play, then!”

There were various tournaments for triple triad, and Altani was delighted to see that they even had mahjong here. She intended to wipe the floor with the locals on that later. They played a round of ‘the slice is right’, which they were pretty bad at but had a blast trying not to get hit with bamboo. She nearly blew out Mogren’s eardrums in happiness when discovering the chocobo racing arena, which she could not wait to run through with Ultimate Winner at some point. Mogren found themself enjoying Lord of Verminion after all, especially as they could cheat at it and pretend to be a minion. That kid had the right idea! Altani just had to pretend to play, while Mogren slipped inside the machine and took care of the rest. It wasn’t a very popular game, so nobody looked too closely at their shenanigans. 

After exhausting themselves trying every single game on offer and losing at cactpot, Mogren and Altani settled into a comfy chair at the bar and lounge, sipping on some sparkly themed drinks that included overly long silly straws. They had a brochure sat out in front of them that listed out a bunch of prizes and their costs. With all their playing today, they’d racked up a pretty sizeable amount of gold saucer points already. For now, so spoiled for choice, they decided to keep their winnings and save them up for something big later.

Altani held out her multicolored drink in the air. After a moment, Mogren dutifully tapped her glass with their own, which looked hilariously oversized in their tiny paws. “Well, I’d say today was a major success, wouldn’t you?”

“For sure! Thanks for not giving up, Tani.”

“Huh? On what?”

“On finding a place we could both enjoy. I know you like bigger groups of people, kupo, so it made me sad sometimes that we couldn’t go somewhere more lively that you could have a good time at too. I didn’t want to bring you down!”

“Awww, Ren! You’re worth more than any party or group of strangers. I know we’re not always together, but I never minded it just being the two of us. This was pretty nice, though. You had fun, yeah?”

Mogren nodded their head so quickly, their pom nearly bonked them in the forehead from the momentum. “Mhmm! A blast!”

“Good. Then I’m happy you’re happy. We don’t have to come here every time we want a celebratory drink, but now we finally found a place we can go without worries!”

“Here’s to more fun times, kupo! Also, when we come here again, I am challenging you to a triple triad tournament, and I’m going to kick your butt!”

“Gasp! Such a betrayal! You shouldn’t have announced it far ahead of time, you muffin. Now I’m going to collect only the best cards to ensure that you never win! Mua ha ha!”

“I’ll eat your deck, then!”

“Ewwwww, no you won’t!”

The bartender nearby kept cleaning her glass, completely uncaring about the strange costume the au ra’s friend was wearing. They were a strange duo, but definitely not the strangest she’d seen even today, so she ignored them. She only wished they’d laugh a little less loudly. Pah. First Timers. 

[imaginesandbandfiction]

Triad Part 1 — How You Met Cas and Az

A Cazriel x Reader Headcanon

Series Masterlist

A/N: This is a headcanon on steroids, haha! Kind of a prequel in the same universe as this one. I’ve got a few more in the works but feel free to shoot me an ask if you have any requests!

You met Cassian and Azriel when you were sent from your tiny border village to Velaris, hand-picked by Madja as one of her healer’s apprentices.

Cassian first; even through teeth gritted against pain, he’d been a shameless flirt.

“Wow, you’re really good with your hands,” he said, flashing a cheeky grin over his shoulder as you wrapped it in a bandage to keep it stable while his muscles finished healing.

You patched him up a few more times before meeting Az, but eventually the Shadowsinger showed up with a gash in his back, bisecting his wings.

It was clearly not an injury from active combat, nor did it seem like torture. It was a threat. Using power for power’s sake.

You’d made eye contact, and your eyes drooped at the corners like you knew not to mention it, but your concern needed to express itself somehow. Like your empathy for others was woven into your skin.

When you finished your apprenticeship, Rhysand offered you a job in his court as a field healer. Later, you’d learn it was Azriel who’d recommended you.

In hindsight, you should have seen it sooner. When Rhys needed a job done right, no questions asked, he sent his dream team. The general, the spy, and the healer.

You spent 5 decades convinced the connection between the three of you was purely platonic.

It was Azriel who started suspecting the mating bond first. He felt his shadows tugging him towards you like they’d already sniffed you out. They never listened properly around you unless someone was in mortal danger; preferring to lap at your feet like gentle waves. Sometimes, one would escape from his grasp and snake its way up your body and you’d giggle—it was over for him the first time heard it. So he kept quiet, either biding his time until the bond snapped and proved him right or left him doomed to an eternity of pining.

You were worth the risk.

Cassian, on the other hand, went straight to Rhys when he started suspecting. Just barged right into the High Lord’s study like he owned the place and draped himself over the armchair in the corner.

“What’s wrong, brother?” Rhys asked, secretly grateful for a distraction; he’d been doing paperwork all morning

“I just got done training with Y/N,” Cassian grumbled.

“Congratulations, or I’m sorry that happened?”

“I dunno, it’s been weird lately. Like my siphons aren’t working properly, or something. I can feel my magic flowing through my body when I’m around her and… it’s so fucking stupid, Rhys, but…” Cas trailed off, too afraid to say the words in case they weren’t true.

“You’re wondering if it could be the mating bond?” Cas buried his head in his hands and nodded. Rhys laughed at him. “Well, just from looking at you I think that it probably is, but I can take a look and see if your magic looks any different.”

“Do it.” There was no hesitation. He had to know.

Rhys slipped into Cassian’s mind and it was pure chaos. The red threads of his magic were tangled up with shimmering gold and deep violet.

Rhys pulls out and Cassian’s head snaps up, wide eyes locking on Rhys’s. Cas’s face lit up sight of the High Lord’s shit-eating smirk.

“Really?” he asked, letting the words escape atop a soft exhale.

“Congratulations, brother,” Rhys confirmed.

Cassian attempted to keep it a secret; he didn’t want to force you into anything you’re not ready for or cloud your judgement. But, Mother, he wanted to scream it from the top of Ramiel and let all of Prythian know that you’re his.

So one night, when he and Az were in Windhaven to check on Devlon, he spilled his secret over pints of ale in front of the fire at Rhys’s mother’s cottage.

“Wanna know a seeeeecret?” He slurred, lifting one finger off his glass to point at Az, squinting at the shadowsinger from across the room.

“You’re keeping a secret?” Az asked, one eyebrow raising alongside the corners of his lips. His expectations were low; most of the time, Cassian’s “secrets” were only secret to the male himself — he was usually the last to know.

But when Cassian leans forward and whispers, “Y/N’s my mate,” it takes all of Azriel’s hard-earned self control to keep his magic to himself. The bond was angry, wanted to lash out, but he forced an amused smile onto his lips and mumbled his congratulations into another sip of ale.

After that, Az tried so hard to keep his shadows under control. After all, he had only started suspecting his own bond a few weeks ago, and it’s not like he laid any claim to you, or anything, but… His magic seemed to think otherwise, and the longer he kept it contained, the harder it got to control.

And then the bond snapped while the three of you were on a mission together in the mortal lands. It didn’t snap for you, though, so they try to act normal around each other but it’s SO HARD, like their magic is butting them against each other. (It is, because they’re stupid).

Rhysand picked up on it as soon as you returned, the tension between the two of them that hadn’t been there when you left. Both men came to him with their concerns, and even though he suspected that there weren’t two separate bonds but one single thread of gold tying the three of you together, he kept quiet. He sat back, watching as their glares and muttered insults turned to heated arguments.

You were baffled at the abrupt change in their dynamic. You suspected it had something to do with a female, but that was none of your business. They’d eventually work out their differences; they were brothers, after all.

A part of you, deep down, felt burning, white-hot rage every time you thought about her, this nameless, faceless female. You bury the burn in work; whenever you’re not in the field, you pick up extra shifts with Madja, healing until you’re too exhausted to do anything but grab a sandwich from the cafe near your apartment and fall into bed. It’s the only way sleep comes without a fight.

It takes a few weeks for the pressure building between them to boil over; your shift is almost over when the two Illyrians show up, bruised and bloody. They stand in the doorway to your office, shoulders hunched and eyes downcast. Something in you snaps at the sight of them, that white-hot anger bursts into raging golden flames.

“What the fuck has gotten into you two lately?” You yell, crossing the small room in two long strides to poke a finger into each of their chests, reveling in the twin winces on their faces.

Cassian opens his mouth to speak but you glare at him to shut him up. “Actually, no, I don’t want to hear it. Whatever it is, you gotta figure that shit out because this is ridiculous.” You pause to take a deep breath before continuing. “The two of you have been so fucking annoying lately, I told Rhys not to send me back out with either of you until you pull your heads out of your asses.”

Like they were two halves of the same whole, their faces fell in unison. Warmth bloomed from your navel inwards, filling you with magic like molten caramel. The last thing you saw before you passed out were the apologies lurking behind their eyes, and then everything went black.