#the baby girls and yuli

[whiskey-bumblebee]

I'm On Fire (Chapter 2)

Pairing: DBF!Aaron Hotchner/Reader

Word Count: 2470

Warnings: older Hotch/younger reader, cheating, daddy issues, a little bit of angst

Taglist: @littlepeanut03 @rosaline-black @moonmark98 @yuly @jazzymariexoxoc @frogoko @morgthemagpie

You're staring at the kitchen sink, a full glass of water on the counter to your left. Alone again. It's been days since you've seen your dad.

You let your head rest in your hands as you prop your elbows up on the counter. Aaron had left his number in your phone when he dropped you back home after your late night drive. You were using every ounce of strength not to call him.

It had been a week or so since that night, or morning, you supposed, since you'd watched the sun rise together, when you teased him for his Spartan taste in coffee and breakfast food. You hadn't heard anything, and you were starting to think it must have meant nothing to him. You were nothing but his friend's daughter. Another thing to take care of, like the unmown grass, or filing taxes.

Despite how little you seemed to mean to him, you couldn't stop replaying your conversations in your mind. Although you'd been sleeping for much of the time, when you were awake, you'd talked about everything. He'd opened up about Haley, the way that their marriage was slowly disintegrating because of their different goals, his difficult work schedule. He'd hesitated before telling you another piece, unsure if it was even appropriate to mention it to you.

"She's started..." He sighed. "She's started trying to tamper with the birth control we use. She hasn't refilled her prescription for the pill in a while and..."

He turned away from you as much as he could, fixing his gaze on something on the left of the horizon. His voice dropped to a low whisper.

"The other night when we were... You know what I mean. She tried to pull off the condom. A week ago I was looking in my bedside table for one of my watches, and the condoms were all over the place. The drawer was sticky, so I picked up one of them," He paused again. "It had a hole in it. I thought okay, leak, I'll just throw this one out. But I looked at one of the others, just in case, and..."

"Oh my god," You said softly. "Aaron, that's not okay. If someone I was dating did something like that..."

You felt your jaw clench. How fucking awful was that? Trying to trap him with a baby? It was one thing to try and convince him, to try and save their marriage, to talk about why he was hesitant, but it was a different thing entirely to start taking matters into her own hands. It would obliterate the last of the trust between them. It was sick.

He'd talked a little about his college years, but his playful smile told you there was a lot he was holding back.

"C'mon, Seattle in the 90s? You must have gotten up to no good," You said, trying to eke out some information. "Concerts, weed, girls?"

"I focused on studying," He said, and pressed his lips together.

"You're lying again. That's one of your tells," You pointed at his lips. "You go like this."

You mimicked his expression, the physical manifestation of withholding information or some emotion.

He looked over at you and laughed. "You'd make a good profiler."

"Profiling," You said dreamily. "And you get to travel all over the place. What's it like?"

"It's hard work," He said slowly. "A lot of the time it's unpleasant. But I like to think we make a difference."

"Could you profile me?"

He looked over at you, his expression serious.

"It's not like astrology, or palm-reading" He said. "You might not like what I have to say."

"I won't hold it against you," You replied. "I'm sure none of it will really be new to me. I spend a lot of time thinking about who I am and how I got here."

"You're independent, probably more than you should be, but that says more about your father than it does about you." He paused, taking a breath, and looked over at you again, sadness in his eyes this time. "You're constantly reading the people around you, or at least me, trying to figure out what they're thinking."

You nodded. "It's not just you."

He pulled into the drive through, joining the long line of cars queuing for their morning coffee. For a moment, you thought about how the two of you must look to anyone who took a second to look through the windscreen or one of the windows. You, in a salt-starched button up shirt. Aaron, in a faded blue t-shirt and the joggers you'd been wearing a few hours before. A strange pair of lovers, or maybe just a strange pair.

"The reason you read everyone is because you use it as a pre-emptive defense mechanism. If you know how everyone is feeling, you can adjust your behaviour to avoid making anyone upset."

"Oh," You said. "So that makes me... a psychopath, or something?"

Aaron chuckled and shook his head, looking at you properly now that the car was safely stopped. "No. It makes you like a lot of other women."

"Oh," You said again, somehow feeling even more dejected. "Just ordinary."

He shook his head, reaching across the centre console to wipe some salt from your cheek. "You're far from ordinary."

"Next in line," Came the staticky voice from the speaker. "How can I help you?"

"What do you want?" He whispered.

"Something sweet," You replied. "And a bagel."

He relayed the information to the disembodied voice.

"Is that all?"

"No, could I also get a black coffee? No cream, no sugar, and do you have a bacon and egg sandwich?"

"Sure. Drive up to the next window."

"Thank you," Aaron replied, shooting you a conspiratorial smile. Why did you feel like you were getting away with something?

"Mr. Bacon and Egg," You teased.

"What?" He replied, reaching for his wallet. "Nothing wrong with the classics."

There was a knock at your door, and you jumped. Your dad?

You took a big sip of water before making your way to the door, then peered through one of the little glass windows to see who it was. With a sigh of relief, you undid the deadbolt. Aaron.

"Is your dad home?" He looked you up and down, but there was no hunger in it.

Your brow furrowed. "No."

"We need to talk," He said, letting himself in, locking the door.

Your stomach dropped through the floor. Here it comes. He's going to tell me that I've been coming onto him and it needs to stop. Head heavy with shame, you let your body fall to the couch and looked down at the rug. He's married, how did you think this was going to end?

"Haley's leaving me."

You looked at him, waiting for the next sentence. None came.

"Aaron," You breathed. "I'm so sorry."

"I went for a drive," He said. "To the beach. In Delaware."

There was a long silence, and he walked to the kitchen and back, bringing you the glass of water you'd abandoned.

You took another sip, looking down at the floor again.

"I..." He took a seat beside you.

You looked at him, searching his face.

"I can't read you," You said softly. "You need to tell me."

He looked deep into your eyes, no doubt seeing the feelings you had for him. You couldn't put words to them yet, but you had a feeling your eyes were telling a story your heart hadn't yet been able to commit to. "I didn't like the beach."

Agony tearing through you, you broke the eye contact, rubbing your face with one of your hands. What had you expected?

He took your hand in his, pulling it from your face. His grip was rough, but it was nothing compared to the confusion and pain radiating through your body.

"No," He said insistently. "I didn't like the beach because... It wasn't the beach. It was you."

You looked at him hopefully, praying to every god whose name you'd ever learned that your heart was right to start beating wildly, full of anticipation.

He whispered your name, his hand coming to the side of your face as the space between you seemed to shrink.

"Haley wouldn't mind," You whispered.

"She wouldn't," He replied, his face close enough to yours that certain syllables sent his lips brushing against yours. He rubbed his nose against yours, waiting to be seized by a sudden rush of morality. It didn't come.

You closed the gap between you, taking his chin between your thumb and forefinger, sealing your lips to his. For a moment you stayed like that, just pressing your lips together, not moving, hardly breathing.

Then it was like lightning- his lips moving against yours, his weight starting to shift on top of your body as you slipped beneath him, your hands moving to cup his back, hips dropping open to accommodate his body in this new position. The harsh noises of your breathing between frantic kisses, the wet sound as your tongue just barely left your mouth, tracing over his lips. A thud as his hand met the arm of the couch, supporting his weight. And if that all was lightning, the electric lick of light across a bright sky, the rest was apocalypse, the hounds of hell breaking loose as your bodies settled against each other, his tongue snaking across your lips, testing the seam of them, whether you'd let him in. You tugged his bottom lip between your teeth, running your tongue across the slightly swollen skin as you released his lip.

You settled into a rhythmic tempo, swaying against each other like the waves on the shore, the push and the pull like something divinely inspired, driven by the moon, something of a greater magnitude than mere magnetism. Something like gravity.

When you broke away, it was all changed. Even from this distance, hardly an inch away from him, you knew the world had tilted on its axis. You became aware of the sound of children playing outside, the ring of a bicycle's bell. You were certain that if you walked outside, you'd see them riding their bicycles straight into the sky, or the birds would be flying upside down. The warmth of the sun would radiate from the ground, and the tickle of the grass would rain down on you.

Your eyelashes seemed like monuments as you blinked slowly, attempting to clear your vision. When you opened your eyes, nothing had changed. There he was. There you were.

The sun warmed your bare skin as you curled into Aaron's chest. Something about the kiss had been draining, as beautiful as it was, and you'd led him upstairs to rest. He traced shapes on your back.

"That was intense," He said, finally.

"I'm tired," You said, suddenly feeling like you might cry.

"I shouldn't stay."

You tilted your head to look up at him, taking a moment to appreciate the way that he looked in your bed, his short dark hair contrasting with your cream-coloured pillow.

"You could," You said.

He shook his head.

"I thought you said Haley left?"

He nodded. "She did. But your dad could come back any minute."

It was your turn to shake your head. "He won't be here until Tuesday. He stays at her place from Thursday night until Tuesday morning so they can have weekends."

"Generous definition of weekend," He scoffed. "He should take better care of you."

"He makes sure there's food when he comes. And besides, I can take care of myself."

"You shouldn't have to," He said softly, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand. His voice was filled with fondness, and you broke his gaze so you could rest your head against his chest again.

"You take care of me," You whispered.

"I could," He whispered. "You deserve to know what it feels like."

There were butterflies in your stomach. You lay like that for another hour, waiting to decide what to do. There was no clear path forward, you knew that much.

"I should go," He murmured. "I have some errands to run before everything closes for the night, and work in the morning."

"What are we going to do?" You said softly, sitting upright.

He sat up too, swinging his legs out of the bed.

"What if this is it?" He replied. "The simplest thing to do would be to leave it here."

"Aaron," You said, your voice breaking. "I couldn't live."

You reached for your phone.

"Can I take a photo of us? So at least I know it wasn't a dream?"

His mind flicked to Penelope, and her incredible capacity for unearthing files from anywhere. Your phone was far from secure, and he just couldn't risk a photo like that ending up somewhere it shouldn't.

He shook his head. "It's too risky. No one should find out about this."

You sighed, looking over at the wall, the last of the day's light filling the room with light, although it was limited to a square in the shape of the window.

You took him by the chin, pulling him gently into the light.

He laughed.

"What?"

"Hell of a metaphor," He said, shaking his head with a small smile.

You raised an eyebrow at him, but he shook his head. You dropped the subject and gestured at his shadow on the wall, the silhouette of his head.

"How about this?"

You leaned into the light, leaving your silhouettes facing each other.

He nodded. "That works."

Careful not to let your phone cast a shadow, you framed the shot and looked at him while he looked at you, both of you fighting back wide smiles. Your phone clicked softly, and you checked to make sure the picture was okay. You nodded and showed it to him. He smiled and kissed your forehead, wrapping an arm around you.

"This isn't going to be easy," He said.

You took one of his hands in both of yours, and looked at him seriously. "I don't need easy. I do need you."

You both sat there for a moment, letting your words hang in the air and permeate your skin.

"God," You breathed. "I can't believe you said what if this is it? I couldn't leave things here. I'd die."

"How about this?" He said, echoing your words from earlier. You followed his gaze as he looked down at his hands. He slipped off his gold wedding ring and placed it on your bedside table.

"My promise this isn't it."

You looked at him, tears forming in your eyes, and nodded.

He took your hands in his, and pressed a kiss to them before enclosing them completely in his.

#aaron hotchner/reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x reader #hotch #criminal minds #my writing #i'm on fire #dbf!hotch

[blushinmoon]

OC Name Meaning

Got tagged by @champagne-pain! Thank youuu 💕 I’ll tag @heirhonkful

Rules: Google and post the meaning of your OC’S name (if you made their name up or they go by a nickname, post an explanation of how it came to you)! bonus if you can find something for their last name too.

More under the cut 💕

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Selene/Sin Everafter

She/He/They ⟡ Gender Fluid ⟡ Pansexual ⟡ Polyamorous

Selene is a girl's name of Greek origin, meaning "the moon." Lunar lovers and night-sky stargazers will delight in this luminous name. Just like the moon, Selene has a calming, soothing effect, with a hint of mystique and wonder about it.

Sin in Mesopotamian mythology holds great significance and importance. It was the name of the moon God in Akkadian (1), and the given name is thought to have been derived from His title. On the other hand, in Burmese, Sin is a gender-neutral name meaning 'clean' and 'pure.

Ever after is a phrase that means "from this on." It often appears in the phrase happily ever after, a conventional ending for fairy tales associated with lasting love.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Exodus Eryx Tartarus

He/Him ⟡ Cis Male ⟡ Bisexual ⟡ Polyamorous

Exodus is the Latin translation of the Greek exodos, meaning “exit” or “departure”.

Tartarus, the infernal regions of ancient Greek mythology. The name was originally used for the deepest region of the world, the lower of the two parts of the underworld, where the gods locked up their enemies.

Eryx is of Greek origin and is derived from the name of a mountain in western Sicily. In Greek mythology, Eryx was also the name of a king and boxer who was defeated by Hercules.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Apollo Tsukiyomi Everafter

He/Him ⟡ Cis Male ⟡ Pansexual ⟡ Polyamorous

Apollo has been recognized as a god of archery, music and dance, truth and prophecy, healing and diseases, the Sun and light, poetry, and more.

Tsukiyomi (ツキヨミ), is the moon god in Japanese mythology and the Shinto religion. The name "Tsukuyomi" is a compound of the Old Japanese words tsuku (月, "moon, month", becoming modern Japanese tsuki) and yomi (読み, "reading, counting").

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Axel & Julie Tartarus

Julie ⟡ She/Her ⟡ Cis Girl

Axel ⟡ He/Him ⟡ Cis Boy ⟡ Bisexual

Axel is an Icelandic name meaning "father of peace." Axel, which also has origins in Scandinavia, Denmark, and Germany, is derived from the biblical Hebrew name Absalom. Whether he goes on to become a famous rock star or not, one thing is for sure: baby Axel will certainly take center stage in any doting parent's life! (Ironic considering Axel’s mom hated his little ass)

Julie is a popular Latin first name which originally comes from the Latin Julia which could mean youthful, soft-haired, beautiful or vivacious. It is the feminine form of Julius, and can be a pet form of Julia, Yulie, or Juliette. Julie.

#oc art #monster lover #artists on tumblr #art #monster x human #comic #monster romance #monster fucker #original character #oc #oc doodles #story

[hesperusblogging]

Master Post

Hello everybody welcome to my blog dedicated to the Yuli Campaign! I'm mainly a Coal stan but I can also admit to calling Panths a middle aged baby girl so expect a lot of them.

Coal's playlist can be found here and his reference sheet will be linked here when it is finished. Panths Playlist can be found here and reference sheet will be linked here when it is finished.

Organizational tags below (づ ◕‿◕ )づ

#Yuli campaign -> All artworks relating to the Yuli campaign plus any promotional or scanned in works from the cast

#Yuliblogging -> Reacting to latest sessions/ analysis stuff/ any other random stuff

#Yuliblabbing ->literally me just blabbing about the little guys

#arttag -> my artworks

#personal -> anything related to me being annoying irl

We're gonna have so much fun guys｀(^▼^)´↑ (evil)

#yuli campaign #yuliblabbing #yuliblogging #dnd #Coal Hesperus #Panths Amaryllis #arttag #personal

[ryker-writes]

LMAO I JUST REALIZED the culture clubs are about to have Camp Vargas pt 2 so Jaxon will be going probably. Imagine him trying to set up the tents and complete the challenges while working with Azul and Idia of all people 😭😭😭

I think Yuli is pretty good with camping since she’s a resourceful person. She’s not necessarily good at schoolwork, but she's independent and self-sufficient. I think she’d be very good with her hands and making things like a makeshift fishing pole or using something unusual to create a fishing lure. During the first Vargas Camp Ace probably tried to sneak off to visit her but got caught by Vargas and booted out 💀

As for Jaxon's reaction to her liking Ace, she’d be like 'honestly? I don’t know why either' because Ace is a bit of an idiot lmao.

Alternatively, if Deuce was her match- I think Deuce does have a bit of a crush on her because he hasn’t had a girl be nice to him since his mom. I don’t think he realizes it’s a crush though, at least not for a while. He probably realizes it during the Ghost Bride event when he's talking to Eliza and freezes up, and the dial up tone plays in his head. Poor baby becomes a nervous wreck the second he realizes that he thinks Yuli is pretty. Poor baby goes from swearing and talking about everything to her to a stuttering mess within the span of one day.

Deuce and Yuli would be a sweet and nervous kind of relationship, while Ace and Yuli is banter and friendship that eventually becomes more. Deuce is so loyal that they would probably stay together long into the future. Ace and Yuli might have some rough patches and take breaks from time to time, but always work through it since their friendship means so much to both of them.

Do you see Riddle and Jaxon having a future together? Or alternatively, Silver and Jaxon?

Jaxon is actually part of the music club, so he'd be stuck with Kalim, Lilia, and Cater. Rip Jaxon Cater is going to be his nightmare. He might break Cater's phone by the end of the trip lol

Jaxon is actually pretty good with camping. He had to for a while while he was expelled, so he's pretty good and comfortable with it...when he's on his own. With others may be a bit more of a challenge for him.

I see Jaxon as being pretty similar to Yuli in this case actually. He's not great with school work either, but he's independent too. Though he's less likely to make things on his own, he has pretty good knowledge of what to do and what not to do.

Jaxon almost has a caring like relationship with Deuce. Like he's also a mess, but he kinda takes Deuce under his wing and wants to help him not make the mistakes he did. He really looks out for Deuce in his own way so if Yuli likes Deuce or the other way around, he's supportive. He wants the best for Deuce, so he'll try and give advice wherever he can (even though he has little experience with that sort of thing)

Honestly, I could see Jaxon and Riddle having a future together. They'll have their rough patches too, but they work it out. Jaxon has also dealt with horrible parents, so he's not afraid of Riddle's mom at all. Jaxon is loyal and so he's not going to give up on the relation ship easily

If Silver and Jaxon were in a relationship, I think they would be able to have a future together too. I see their relationship having less problems than Riddle's. They're relationship would also be more quiet and relaxed.

#also lmao ace getting caught by vargas #jaxon crowley lore #jaxon crowley #yuli and jaxon #jaxon and riddle #twst oc

[crqelsummer]

the next class 1-a! (and others)

THE NEW CLASS 1-A!

A pretty quick list of kimiko's classmates! i've actually had this list for some months now, but it was more a point of reference than a proper list because I haven't really wrote anything for OHA yet. Getting there though!

Kirishima Makoto - Class Rank: 1 Quirk: Shrapnel Age: 15 Height: 5’5” Chosen Track: Hero Course (Bombing King)

Notes: Makoto is a talented young woman with a bright future ahead of her — if she can just keep the yelling down a minimum. Young Kirishima is a rule-breaker through and through, and isn’t afraid to make that other people’s problem. She has a strong sense of justice that when challenged, can get explosive. Snarky and a smartass, the pride she carries just might be her downfall when push comes to shove. (Kiribaku)

Sero Haruko - Class Rank: 2 Quirk: Acid Tape Age: 15 Height: 5’8” Chosen Track: Hero Course (Here - Yuly)

Notes: Haruko is a jokester at heart, but a capable young man that’s determined to make a name for himself in the hero world apart from his parents. Talented and flashy, he still has a lot to learn before he’s ready to be out on his own, but his creative abilities are what makes him shine in class. With so many uses of his almost double quirk, it’s just a matter of time before his power skyrockets. (Seromina)

Tokoyami Rin - Class Rank: 3 Quirk: Light Frog Age: 15 Height: 5’7” Chosen Track: Hero Course

Notes: Rin, while she chooses not to speak often, is an expressive girl with her sights set high. Coming from a mostly quiet family in the media, she’s noted as being a boisterous personality who’s friendly to everyone who comes across her. The eldest of three, Rin is responsible and caring to a fault. Light Frog, the apparition she was born with, has a personality of her own, but she translates many of Rin’s thoughts for her. (Class Rep) (TokoTsuyu)

TetsuTetsu Daisuke - Class Rank: 4 Quirk: Iron Fists Age: 15 Height: 6’0” Chosen Track: Hero Course

Notes: Daisuke is a prideful young hero with a talent for smashing things. An excitable boy, he’s reckless at times but can always get the job done, even if his mind wanders sometimes. He’s a huge fanboy of the big heroes and often drools over the idea of getting his own hero merch someday. The middle son of Real Steel and Battle Fist, he has a lot to live up to, but damn does he do it well. (Vice Rep) (Tetsukendo)

Togata Junko - Class Rank: 5 Quirk: Transformation Age: 15 Height: 5’7” Chosen Track: Hero Course

Notes: The baby of the Togata family, Junko’s personality is loud and proud, if not bordering on oppressive. While she’s not exactly the strongest with her quirk (and thinks more in the here and now rather than planning properly), she does want to make a name for herself. She’s quickly becoming a fan favorite by most, even if she tends to think later and act now. Reckless and full of wrecks, no one can say Junko doesn’t put her best foot forward. (Miritama)

Maekawa Moriko - Class Rank: 8 Quirk: Fairy Age: 15 Height: 5’4” Chosen Track: Hero Course

Notes: Moriko is a prideful, talented and oftentimes spiteful young girl who makes it her mission to remind everyone who she is and just how high her potential really is. A long time bully of Kimiko’s and a massive know it all, not many see many redeeming qualities about Moriko, but beneath all the bravado there’s a hero there waiting to be unlocked because all she really wants is to be enough for someone. Y’know, just as soon as she can stop pressing everyone’s buttons.

Yaoyorozu Seiji - Class Rank: 12 Quirk: Phase Rush Age: 15 Height: 5’3” Chosen Track: Hero Course

Notes: Seiji is a quiet boy and is often quite shy. Explained by his ADHD, he’s often underestimated by classmates and instructors alike, but his Quirk makes him a talented student nonetheless. Able to phase through almost any material, he can accelerate fast enough to simply move through them with a scary precision that makes him one of 1-As strategists. Still, he’s terribly abrasive at times with a large ego to match, and usually fades into the background because its easier than dealing with the class drama. (Kamimomojirou)

Matsuo Iwao - Class Rank: 14 Quirk: Teleportation Age: 15 Height: 5’8” Chosen Track: Hero Course

Notes: Iwao, if he were anyone else, would be expected to be a far more powerful hero. Teleportation is a crazy powerful ability that he dreams of using to its furthest extents. However the limitations of his Quirk hold him back a lot of time, his personality even moreso. The youngest of four, Iwao is constantly trying to prove himself, leading to pushing himself way too far, way too fast — or holding back when he shouldn’t. However, he’s still a massive jokester that gets people laughing and eases tension a lot of the time.

Aoyama Elle - Class Rank: 15 Quirk: Light Hands Age: 15 Height: 5’5” Chosen Track: Hero Course

Notes: Elle is a stunning person, inside and out. Half French, she’s a well cultured girl who travels quite a bit, experiencing the world as she pleases. This does lead to some amusing interactions with her Japanese classmates, but she’s ready to work towards a better future with an almost dangerous work ethic. Sporty and bright, Elle puts on a show every time she uses her Quirk and her mind, making her one of the prides of 1-A. Still, her overconfidence often gets her into trouble, something she’s still working on these days.

Shinsou Yuto - Class Rank: 16 Quirk: Thief Age: 15 Height: 5’7” Chosen Track: Hero Course

Notes: Yuto is a distinctly off putting person, considering all it takes is for someone to answer him, and their Quirk is his. Questionably fighting for the right reasons, he can be painfully honest and at times, straight up insulting. But he’s self-aware enough to work on himself, even if the road there is paved with a lifetime of social expectations he just can’t quite grasp. He can be quite nice at times, once people earn his trust, and is even downright caring to his classmates once he gets to know them. (Monoshin)

Midoriya Kimiko Class Rank: ? Quirk: Flashfire Age: 15 Height: 5’6” Chosen Track: Hero Course (Jet Set Run)

Notes: Kimiko is someone who’s…not quite sure who she is yet. Defined by the years of bullying she’s experienced due to her weaker Quirk, she can often be found by Makoto’s side and is quieter than most. Though it does get her down sometimes, she’s always willing and ready to put herself on the line when push comes to shove. Smart, calculating and just a little awkward, Kimiko is a triple threat — especially when it’s revealed at the Roaring Sports Festival that she does in fact have a Quirk, one that’s almost world ending. (Tododeku)

-

CLASS 3-A!

Iida Ryosei Class Rank: 3-A Quirk: Moonwalk Age: 18 Height: 5’8” Chosen Track: Hero Course (Odd Future)

Notes: A powerful rescue hero in the making, Ryosei is the eldest of the 1-A descendants, and takes this very seriously. Responsible and occasionally overbearing, he’s has a knack for keeping his younger friends out of trouble — but isn’t exactly afraid to get into it if it means saving them. He’s poised to become next Ingenium, and while it troubles him, he’s ready to make his family proud. (Iidachako)

Ojiro Reiko Class Rank: 3-A Quirk: Elastic Age: 18 Height: 5’4” Chosen Track: Hero Course (???)

Notes: Shaping up to be one of the more popular heroes, Reiko is capable of stretching her limbs out to wild extents. Kind and sweet, she’s shaping up to one of the more popular UA students of the year, and the media loves her winning personality. Bright and bubbly, she makes for a great friend and better role model. The winner of her third sports festival, she and Ryosei keep up a good repertoire with each other that often turns competitive. (Ojitooru)

Togata Keisuke Class Rank: 3-A Quirk: Animal Form Age: 18 Height: 5’4” Chosen Track: Hero Course (???)

Notes: The youngest of the Togata twins, Keisuke is a jokester with a heart of gold. He’s a little bit of a clown and uses his Quirk to make people laugh, but is quick to catch up if he ever falls behind. He tries to stay out of trouble, but it tends to follow him around regardless of how hard he works to stay out of it. Nonetheless, he’s poised to become a great hero with a bright future as he’s part of UA’s Big Three this year. (Miritama)

Togata Chikao Class Rank: 3-B Quirk: Permeation Age: 18 Height: 5’5” Chosen Track: Hero Course

Notes: The eldest of the Togata twins, Chikao is a little more responsible than his counterpart. Perhaps this is because Keisuke’s troubles usually cover his up, but he’s a helpful young man that is often just as boisterous as his siblings. Talented and strategic, he tends to be a little shy and can shut down sometimes when things become too stressful. However, he’ll always show up if someone needs him, he refuses to leave someone in peril regardless of the trouble. (Miritama)

-

OTHER STUDENTS -

Kirishima Takato Class Rank: N/A Quirk: Quirkless Age: 17 Height: 5’11” Chosen Track: Business

Notes: The eldest son of the Kirishima family, Takako is relatively high spirited for his outlook on life. Diagnosed Quirkless, he set his sights high to eventually be the first Quirkless owner of a hero agency, and his analytical mind has him set up well to make it a reality. Usually keeping Mako out of trouble, he does get down about his lack of Quirk sometimes, but never lets it keep him down for too long. After all, he’s the kid of Ground Zero and Red Riot damn it! (Kiribaku)

#au: our hero academia #bnha next gen #mha next gen #oc: kirishima makoto #oc: kirishima takato #oc: midoriya kimiko #oc: shinso yuto #oc: ojiro reiko #oc: iida ryosei #oc: togata keisuke #oc: togata chikao #oc: togata junko #oc: sero haruko #oc: tokoyami rin #oc: maekawa moriko #oc: matsuo iwao #oc: aoyama elle #oc: yaoyorozu seiji #oc: tetsutetsu daisuke

[semisgroupie]

You should ship your moots if you haven’t yet!

Ooh yes! I’ll do a mix of the different fandoms and I apologize if I forget anyone, there’s so many of y’all and my pea brain can’t handle all the info

@puptarou — DRAKEN AND BOKUTO literally a match made in heaven I promise you that

@his-vka — IZANA or SANZU menaces to society, will commit arson together because they’re bored

@godjo — KAZUTORA dream couple

@sunatooru — OIKAWA I just get the vibes that they’re fit for each other

@lunarshinsuke — KITA AND I WILL NOT ELABORATE FURTHER THEY ARE PERFECT TOGETHER!!!!

@luri-isa — ASAHI or IWA beeg protective men for luri only

@atsumus-housewife — KAGS or NORITOSHI will be the best subby babies for three

@hq-girl-next-door — NOYA cuties belong together

@terano — BAJI!!!!!! Pretty baby deserves to be with the pretty boy

@paccano — MIKEY or KYOUTANI *perfection*

@selfishwitch — MATSUHANA the best most perfect poly ship for Sawa

@bokuroskitten — me BOKUROO!!! If I didn’t say this then I’d be smoking crack

@anime-nymph — also me GETO or TOJI also AONE just the best boys and dilf for yuli

@pinkkento — NANAMI!!!! Tay and Nanami is just right

@rosesandtoshi — USHIJIMA manda and Toshi is another match made in heaven

@megumiya — TOJI or DAICHI big men even bigger tiddies

@megumisbimbo — MEGUMI no questions asked

@haikyutiehoe — OSAMU tiddies

@izuushi — IZUKU fern + izuku is the absolute izuku ship

@bunny-xoxo — INUMAKI or JEAN

@bunnybokuto — OMI or BOKUTO

@pupimouto — SHIGGY OR SAEKO

@viixens — TENDOU

#dee ships some of her moots

[consumedkings-archive]

THE LAND OF GODS AND DEVILS, a sequel.

—part i.

word count: 6k

rating: m for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop, tags will be updated accordingly.

warnings: naughty language, massively canon-divergent, roman gets his own tag because he's a fucking nutso, canon-typical violence, established relationship that might not be the healthiest, age gap, domestic murder family. for this chapter in specific, roman likes to take things to the Extreme (i.e., "i'm going to fucking kms if you say this word one more time") but if you're here i imagine you know exactly what he's about.

notes: it's here! i know that most of my followers and friends on here are my friends through my far cry 5 content, but my return to the fic-writing world was inspired by my first longfic in a decade after watching birds of prey. you could say, perhaps, that i have a Type(TM), given that roman sionis lives rent free in my head forever and always. this is the sequel to my work carry your throne, though i like to think it's fairy user-friendly, especially once we really get into the thick of it.

special thank you goes to my beta and the loml, @starcrier; the first person to ever truly recognize varya for the wretched little beast that she is and love her anyway. thank you for being my beta and for loving my girl!

and, of course, another special thanks goes to @shallow-gravy, @vasiktomis, @faithchel, @tomexraider, and @belorage for being so supportive of my foray out of the far cry fandom and back into one that, in a way, brought me here in the first place!

summary: —by dread things, compelled.

roman sionis is the closest he has ever been to having everything that he wants; a perfect wife, a perfect family, a perfect international black-market arms dealing business signed over to him in its entirety. unfortunately for him, there are people in the world who would prefer to see him without, and that has never been a thing that roman has accepted for himself: being without.

(or: a fic wherein the devil spends his time rebuking sin.)

“If one more person says the word ‘chandelier’ in my presence,” Roman announced, drawing all eyes to him, “I'm going to blow my fucking brains out. Got it?”

There was a brief moment of silence that lapsed before the murmured acquiescence of the workers marked their return to their work. Blowing hot air from his mouth, Roman raked his fingers through his hair and turned back around to where Zsasz was watching him expectantly.

“What?” He demanded. “It’s my wife’s birthday.” Emphasis on the my, not the wife; it was not a favor Roman was doing for Varya, it was something he was doing for himself.

“V told them she wanted it.” Zsasz gestured to the offensive piece of lighting, which continued to haunt Roman’s waking and dreaming hours with its garish crystalline drippings and expensive bulbs. Ever since Varya had found out his fluctuating approval of the chandelier, it had been in and out of the Black Mask Club more times than he could count. Not that he needed to; he could very well put in or rip out a stupid fucking light fixture as many times as he wanted.

“Well.” Roman pulled a glass out from behind the bar, setting it on the top and dropping an ice cube into it. “She does so love to torture me.”

“It's just a—”

“Do you want my fucking guts on the floor, Zsasz? I mean it. Say the word and I’ll do it.”

The blonde regarded him drily. “No, boss.”

“Blood and guts everywhere.” Roman gestured widely with his free hand. “All over the floor. The bar top. You’ll have to clean it up. Maybe wipe down some of the bottles.”

“I won’t say it.”

“I don’t have to tell you how hard it is to get blood out of the carpet.”

Zsasz’s mouth quirked up in a smile. It said, without saying anything at all, no, you don’t. More agreeably, and with the flash of pearly whites and the capped tooth: “Sure.”

Roman poured well over what would have been considered the polite amount of expensive scotch into his glass, capping the bottle and setting it aside. It had been exactly twenty-four hours of making sure the club was perfectly polished and styled for Varya's birthday; though she was shrewd, she was so preoccupied with the twins and the lawyers and overseas business associates that she barely seemed to notice whatever was coming in and out of the Black Mask Club. He didn’t think she’d had a baby nor a phone out of her hands in over two days, and truthfully, it was starting to become tedious. Now that the twins were a little over a year old, they were supposed to be scheduling their honeymoon.

The delay of it hadn’t been a big deal, at the start. But everyday with you feels like my honeymoon, Varya had demurred months before the twins’ arrival, fluttering her lashes and gliding her fingers along the lapel of his jacket—and not even an hour after she’d curtly informed him that any more chatter, while she was nursing a headache, would be met with a swift and efficient extraction of his vocal cords by her own hands. Motherhood was supposed to have domesticated her, Roman thought, and had done the exact opposite; now, she was more assured of her status and power than ever.

So, yes; Varya had been busy, and he was almost certain she’d forgotten her own birthday. Never mind that everything had to be perfect. Never mind that it had to be immaculate. Never mind that Varya had deigned to order a brand new fucking chandelier from the same place they’d gotten one last time, knowing full well that he had made the executive decision to gut the fucking thing and get it out of his club.

“Tell you what, Zsasz,” Roman muttered, taking a swallow of the amber liquid in his glass, “don’t ever get fucking married. You want someone knowing all the shit that pushes your buttons all the time?”

“Maybe you just got a button pusher for a wife.”

Roman grimaced and took another swallow. It was true. “Fuck off.”

The blonde opened his mouth to say something else—and hadn’t he gotten confident in himself too, since Varya had become such a permanent fixture in their life, constantly goading and coercing him to voice his opinion on things, things that normally he would just defer to Roman on—when the doors to the stairwell and the elevator opened.

Eclipsing the doorway was Armazd, Varya’s hand-picked-from-the-batch-of-Russians-left-over-guard. Armazd had to be easily cresting six-foot-five, his dark beard neatly trimmed and peppered with silver, a scar breaking the color of his top lip. Roman had only ever seen the man swathed in dark clothes, like a fucking mourner on parade. His wife had been the one picked to be the twins' nanny, despite the fact that Roman felt like she barely did anything.

Also hand-picked. Thoroughly vetted. Interrogated for hours. No stone left unturned, when it came to Yuli and Ro.

“What are you doing down here?” Roman barked, coming around the side of the bar to make his way across the room. “You’re supposed to be going up and keeping—”

“She is coming down,” Armazd clarified. “In the elevator. Irina called to tell me.”

“Instead of stopping her?”

“She was—”

The elevator dinged in the hallway, and Roman quickly ducked around Armazd and closed the door into the club behind him. As soon as the doors slid open, he planted a smile on his face and closed the distance between himself and his wife.

Nobody would know, looking at Varya, that she not only barely utilized the nanny that they had furiously vetted and now paid handsomely, but that on top of juggling their twins she was actively in the process of getting a massive, international gun-running business signed over in his name. There was not a single hair out of place, not a single crease or rumple in the sapphire-blue silk of her blouse or skirt; the scent of her preferred jasmine perfume followed her like a cloud. She looked as put-together as the day he’d first seen her standing in his club.

And now, he desperately needed her to stay out of it.

“Kitten,” he greeted warmly, his hands—though gloved—immediately scratching the itch by reaching for her; they captured hers to carefully still her procession to the club’s main room. “What are you doing down here? I thought you’d be busy for hours.”

“Yuliana has been fussing nonstop,” Varya replied, her voice light despite what could only have been an expression of frustration quickly following, “all while I listen to grown men fussing nonstop at me on the phone.”

Roman feigned a sympathetic noise, bringing her hands up to his mouth to kiss them. “We have a nanny, V.”

“You know better than anyone else,” the brunette murmured, brushing her nose against his as their hands dropped, “that she is inconsolable without you.”

He tried not to look too pleased. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Don’t be modest, Romy.”

“Well, I’ll come up, of course.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “And console our princess.” Another kiss, to the other corner. “So that you can continue letting grown men fuss at you.”

She beamed at him prettily, and finally they met in the middle for a real kiss—nothing coy, nothing demure, but lingering warm and just between the two of them.

“I love you,” she purred. “Go on, then.”

And then Varya pulled away, as though to go around him and into the club, and Roman blinked rapidly. He had only just caught her around the waist before she could walk in and pulled her in a full one-eighty until she was facing the elevator again.

“What are you doing?” she asked, a laugh bubbling out of her. “I was just going to make myself a drink.”

“Encouraging productivity,” Roman replied, hitting the button for the elevator doors to open again. “Ready for all this paperwork to be done, aren’t you? It’s been over a year.”

A year of wading through mafia-esque bureaucracy. A year of listening to Varya say, these things take time. A busy year, to be sure, jam-packed full of things—the biggest wedding in Gotham since its founding, the twins.

A funeral.

Roman tried more and more every day not to think about his (now) brother-in-law’s funeral, the double burial of the only man that might have stood a chance at being loved by Varya more than Roman himself and the only man who had ever been anything like a father figure to her. Family is tedious, he’d wanted to say, brothers and fathers and mothers, the whole lot of them, cut them loose why don’t you? Why should anyone matter to you outside of the twins and I?

Varya glanced at him over her shoulder. “These things take time.”

He rolled his eyes. “Mhm.”

“Not to mention, we were a little busy,” she added, eyes narrowing playfully as he nudged her into the elevator, “you know—having children.”

“And what beautiful children they are.” Roman hit the button without looking, the doors sliding shut behind him.

“Well, how am I supposed to suffer through those phone calls without a stiff drink?”

He quirked a brow upward. “I’ll make you a stiff drink, Mrs. Sionis.”

The brunette propped herself up against the back rail of the elevator as it whirred into motion. The corner of her mouth, painted ruby, curved and her head tilted inquisitively. “Oh?”

“Of course,” he demurred, sidling forward and boxing her in against the wall. “I’ll make you a stiff drink—”

He dropped his head to the slope of her jaw to plant a kiss there.

“—you’ll finish up with the lawyers, and put on the dress I bought you—”

Varya hummed and sighed sweetly.

“—we’ll go out to dinner for your birthday—”

He dropped his hands to her hips, planting a kiss on her temple so that he could rumble, “And we can get to work on baby number three, hm?”

A sweet laugh billowed out of her just as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open to bring to Roman the oh-so-sweet sounds of a caterwauling infant. Over the distressed crying was Irina’s voice, shushing and cooing dulcet words in Russian; he could see her swaying to and fro with a swathe of fabric bundled in her arms.

“I almost forgot about my birthday,” Varya said thoughtfully, completely unrattled by the sound of their daughter’s distress. She stepped out from between him and the elevator wall; Roman fell into step beside her easily, the sound of her heels clipping against the floor enough to draw Irina’s eyes to them.

Roman said, “I know you did,” and did not bother to hide his smugness as he held out his arms for the shrieking baby in Irina’s arms. The redhead regarded him with a sort of weary amusement before she acquiesced; with Yuliana safely in his arms, he watched Varya cross the room to turn the automatic rocker that held their son back on to a slow, lulling pace. The freckled infant babbled happily—ever the quieter of the twins—and as Varya said something to Irina in Russian that inspired the woman to depart to the kitchen, she absently picked up a baby blanket from the couch and wandered over to him.

“Yuli,” she murmured, waving her finger at the already-content infant, tucking the blanket around her “is that all you wanted, hm? Just for your papa to hold you?”

“What else could she want for?” he replied confidently. Soothing Yuliana’s fury had become old-hat for him at this point. And, certainly, it pleased him to know that sometimes, the only thing that would make his daughter stop screaming was being held by him. Not even Varya—who had taken to motherhood like a fish to water—bothered when she was in a fit.

Still, the brunette sighed dreamily, her finger captured by their daughter’s tiny hand before she said, “What a perfect little gem.”

Roman hummed his agreement. “Finishing that call with the lawyers?”

“Perhaps tomorrow,” Varya replied. “They’re in a mood today.”

“They’re in a mood every day.” Russians, he thought venomously.

“Yes.” She smiled, flashing pearly teeth at him. “But only today is my birthday.”

She had him there. Still, he was itching for the whole thing to be done—Ilarion had dragged his feet through the process of even drawing up the original contract, which had only been a spit in his face (“You are the only person who gets to fuck Varya Astakhova, that is as exclusive as it gets”) and by the time all of that nasty business had been wrapped up, Ilarion was dead.

Ilarion, and Nikita—leaving only a single living soul to be in charge of the Astakhov empire: Varya herself.

Which, she had expressed time and time again, she had no desire for; not in the public way that her father had done it, and Ilarion after them. She much preferred the clerical work of it all. Paperwork and public relations. Let the men do men’s work, she’d demurred one night, tangled up in their sheets, when he’d asked her what she was going to do with it. I don’t mind. They like me better as their madonna, anyway.

“You know,” she continued, breaking him out of his thoughts as she made her way to the bar cart, pouring herself a drink, “they will like you more if it’s you they’re talking to.”

“I don’t give a fuck if they like me or not,” Roman replied, lifting Yuliana with both of his hands so that he could look at her. “Isn’t that right, princess? Mommy gets to do all the paperwork so that your papa can spend all of his time with you, instead of listening to some dumbfucks bitch and moan on the phone.” He glanced at her. “Well, anyway, since it’s your birthday we can let it slide.”

“Very generous of you.”

“Get dressed, won’t you?” he prompted, depositing his now-content daughter in the mobile swing with her brother. “The table’s been ready for us since noon.”

Varya watched him, dark eyes glittering amusedly. “And why, my darling, did you make the reservation for noon? It’s nearly six now.”

“Because,” he replied, “I wanted to make sure they held it, regardless of how long it took us to get there.”

“Ah.” She lifted her chin a little, lashes fluttering with contentment when he reached up and brushed the hair from her face. “Or else?”

Roman flashed her a grin.

“Or else.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They held the table.

“Good for them,” Roman said as they followed the server out onto the balcony. The table had clearly been refreshed—a new candle, a new vase, a new bucket of ice and bottle of champagne. He’d heard the waitstaff whispering furiously among themselves as they idled in the lobby to be taken to their table; now, settled across from the birthday girl, Roman was content with the way they had squirmed.

“Quicker than the two-hour wait last time,” Varya noted by way of agreement, smoothing her hand along the edge of the tablecloth.

He scoffed. The only reason they had waited in the lobby for two hours was because Varya had asked him to stay for the table she wanted. If it had been his way, they would have left with a bloody warning and gone somewhere else. “I can’t believe I finally convinced you to leave the twins home for a night and we got stuck sitting in that fucking lobby because they gave our table away.”

“In my defense, they are good babies, Romy. Hardly ever cry. Certainly not too much trouble.”

“But there’s two of them,” he replied, “and toting two babies around is a lot of work. All I’m saying is, what’s the point of paying her that much fucking money if we’re just going to—”

The waiter came by the table, clearly a little stressed; the lines of concern on his face were clear as he cleared his throat and said, “Should I come back?”

Varya, perusing the menu: “No, my darling, you may stay. You were saying, Romy?”

“I just don’t know why we’re shoveling money into her bank account for her to be a glorified accent chair in our house rather than a nanny.” Roman gestured to the champagne bottle expectantly. “Open it.”

The waiter did as he asked, having been standing there uncomfortably for a moment during their exchange. As he worked to carefully open the champagne bottle, Roman turned his attention back to Varya; her eyes remained on the menu, absently twisting the engagement and wedding band on her finger back and forth.

There was no way, he thought, that she was putting off getting the business signed over to him on purpose. Surely, there was no way; even when Ilarion was alive, even when she had anticipated no further problems, it had always been, if you’re going to be my romantic partner, it seems only right you’d be my partner in business too, don’t you think? And yet—

And yet, Roman could not push down the strange, hazy doubt that occasionally flickered through his mind. He had always wanted Varya, had always found himself wanting and wanting and wanting more and more often, and Varya had always seemed content to indulge him. There was, it seemed, nothing she enjoyed more than indulging him. One more kiss, one more minute in bed, one more lingering glance across the room. She was the absolute pinacle of his hedonism, in every sense of the word, and had proven time and time again that she would give him anything that he wanted.

The business had always been for her and Ilarion. He wanted it, and told her he did, and she said, you can have it, if you like, but like in all things, there was a slyness about his wife—a cruelty—that he found endearing and dangerous. Dangerous, because it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d been on the other end of her cruel nature, playfully poking and unwinding and tugging the thread loose until she had pushed him to the limit.

Something echoed in his head, and he realized that the waiter was asking him what he wanted to eat. Varya had handed the menu over and steepled her fingers, watching him with dark, curious eyes and red painted lips, sooty lashes fluttering. A pretty, painted little snake.

“I’ll take whatever she’s having,” Roman said after a moment, setting his menu aside and returning his attention to the brunette across from him. “Something interesting, kitten?”

“Can I not just appreciate my husband?” Varya demurred. “You’re wearing the suit I like best, after all.”

“It is your birthday. What greater gift is there than me?”

She laughed, delighted by him—as she always was—and took a sip of her champagne. “You were away from me, for a moment.”

He watched her, gauging her carefully. Even I know not to drop my pants when a viper opens its mouth, Bianchi had said, just before Varya had unloaded six rounds into his face and chest less than two feet away from him.

“Just thinking,” is what Roman said finally.

“Hm. A dangerous past time.”

His expression flattened, deadpan. “It’s taken a significant chunk of time to secure your father’s business in my name.”

Something flickered across Varya’s expression. at the word father. “To secure my business,” Varya replied, her voice abrupt and cutting, her eyes narrowed, “in your name.” Absently, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She looked to be composing herself, like she’d spoken on a knee-jerk reaction rather than with thinking.

Then, glossy and silken again: “You know your patience means the world to me, Romy.”

There was nothing that he loved more than watching her pull back her venom for him. Drumming his fingers against the top of the table, Roman bridled his own irritation to say, mildly, “I’d do anything for you. Even wait...” He made a thoughtful noise. “Over a year to finally take on the responsiblities you wanted handed over to me.”

“Of course.” Varya smiled prettily, absently straightening out her silverware. “And we will speak no more of my father on my birthday, or any day after this.”

He knew what that meant. She phrased it pretty, wrapped it up in silk and velvet and presented it to him as unassuming as a doe, but he knew what that meant. There is my button, she was saying, there is my trip wire. Don’t push it, Roman. The name Nikita had all but been banned in their household, even when funeral arrangements were being made; any time he’d heard one of the lawyers mention her father’s name, there had been a sharp rebuke. Not in my presence, she would tell him later, I do not want to hear that fucking name in my presence.

“At any rate, there is nothing that I want more than for this whole process to be done,” she continued lightly, reaching across the table to take his hand. “It was always what I wanted, you know. Ilya was better suited to be a functional piece of the business; he was the face because he had to be, not because he wanted to be, and I am better suited for the nitpicking and the details. Being the overseer is much more in your circle of talents, Romy.”

Her words assauged something unsettled and prickly in him, the sweep of the pad of her thumb across the back of his hand returning that doubtful monster in his mind back to its slumber. He sighed.

“You’re right,” he acquiesced after a moment, “it is more in my circle of talents.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“I always got the impression Ilarion wasn’t happy with it,” he added. “Though you two certainly enjoyed making work of me that first night, didn’t you?”

Varya smiled demurely. “It was never meant to make work of you, only to make a good impression.”

“Hm,” he replied, eyes narrowing playfully, “but you enjoy pushing me, V.”

She looked pleased. She always did, when he remarked on something that felt like he was really seeing her, beneath the glossy veneer. His girl did so love being seen.

“Only,” V demurred, “because you so enjoy reining me in.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Roman brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it before relinquishing it and glancing around. He would just have to exercise patience, of which he had the most; patience, modesty, and humility, all excellent qualities that he could participate in at will, at any given time. Without any restraint.

“Did the men get the chandelier installed?” Varya idled, snapping his attention back to her. He narrowed his eyes.

“I told you I didn’t want a chandelier anymore.”

She looked at him across the table, dark doe eyes wide and innocent. “I thought you liked how polished they make the club.”

“No, you little viper,” Roman replied, clicking his tongue, “Paolo has a chandelier in his club, and there’s no fucking way I’m going to have people comparing it.”

“Ah,” she murmured, “the drama of the chandelier goes on.”

“And while we’re at it, might as well gut that one from the estate, too.”

“There’s more than one chandelier in there.”

“Then the men will be busy, won’t they?” He tsked his tongue. “I know you dream about watching me blow my top, V, but I’m making an executive decision on gaudy light fixtures.”

A smile flashed across her expression, pearly teeth and delighted eyes. She sighed, almost dreamily, like there was nothing more that she liked than to be doing this exact thing, and with him.

“Oh, Romy,” the brunette said sweetly, “you are the only thing I dream about.” And then, almost as an after thought: “Gaudy light fixture terrorism included.” She waved her hand to dismiss any protest or rebuttal he might have given her and said, “Now, since it’s my birthday, tell me all of the things you love the most about me.”

Roman sucked his teeth, eyeing her for a moment as he leaned back in the chair. Wicked little thing, waiting to preen and glow under his attention, a feline seeking him out. Her little bout of cruelty before was already forgiven. He said, “We’re going to be here for a while, if I do that.”

“They held the table for over six hours,” Varya demurred, “I’m sure they’ll hold it for as many more as you need.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

By the time they got to the club, Varya was acting as though nothing had happened.

Truthfully, Roman preferred it that way. It just also left a lot of room to wonder—his wife was a talented actress, adept at smoothing his ruffled feathers out and not divulging her own feelings on the matter. And he wouldn’t ask, of course. If Varya wanted to express herself, she would, and had, quite openly in the past.

“I am so happy to be home,” she announced, gliding past the door to the club once Roman had opened it for her. “Do you think the babies are asleep, yet? I always miss putting them...”

Her voice trailed off, pausing a little as she seemed to realize that the club was cloaked in inky darkness, freezing just a few steps past the threshold. Roman let the door swing shut behind him, nudging her forward with a hand at the small of her back. He was met with some resistance; she steeled, stiffening against his insistence, before taking a few steps forward.

He said, barely keeping the delight out of his voice, “You’re holding up the line, V.”

“Roman,” Varya said, her voice pitched oddly soft and tight, “why—?”

The lights flashed on to a loud, unified cheer of Happy Birthday!; the club had been packed with vases of flowers, the tables donned with food and drink, and everyone worth their salt within a fifty-mile radius had made their way there. Not a single thing was out of place—everything exactly where he had instructed it be placed, and not a fucking chandelier in sight.

Roman came around in front of the brunette, grinning. “Happy—”

He stopped. Varya’s expression was not happy, or even surprised; it was something else, something that he couldn’t read, the pupils of her hot-whiskey eyes blown wide and the normally Renaissance-soft lines of her face sharpened and hardened into an expression that was more vicious.

“V?” he asked. Her eyes snapped to him, and for a second she looked the same way she had that night in the loft, her hands drenched in blood and the kitchen knife clutched in her fist with bodies at her feet: like she didn’t recognize him.

It took a heartbeat, but her expression smoothed out and she smiled, almost sheepish—like she’d been caught doing something naughty, instead of being caught being somewhere else. Someone else, more the wolf than the girl.

“The lights,” she explained, hands resting on his chest, “they startled me, is all.”

A frown creased his expression. He brought his hands up to hold her wrists, thumb pressed against her pulse point. It fluttered unsteadily. Unconvinced, Roman pressed, “The lights?”

“Just the lights,” Varya assured him. She tilted her head up and kissed him, one hand departing his jacket to go to the back of his neck—and when she kissed him, he could feel that strange little flicker of energy, like she’d been stamping something out before it could catch, but it still vibrated under her skin.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but she disentangled from him and swept around to the crowd of people waiting, beaming prettily and playing at bashfulness, as though she did not enjoy their eyes on her and did not soak their attention up like a flower did sunlight. Whatever had been plaguing her in that moment was now gone, and she was awash with attention and love, thanking people profusely and accepting each hug and cheek-kiss directed her way.

Roman brushed off the odd feeling that she wasn’t being as forthcoming with him as he would have preferred—no secrets anymore, isn’t that what they’d agreed on?—and instead waded into the crowd. Music kicked on overhead; chatter picked up to a warm humming around them; there was nothing else to think about except letting his girl enjoy her birthday celebration.

By the time Varya had made a suitable number of rounds (which tended to verge much higher than one, much to Roman’s chagrin—what tedious work, to share her with everyone else), she had barely sipped the glass of champagne someone had planted in her hand. She circled back to him eventually; like always, there was that pinprick tugging in the cavity of his chest, like they were bound by a single thread that kept them from parting too much and too quickly, and when she drew closer to him again it oozed relief, warm and vibrant, through his ribs.

“Sufficiently loved on?” he asked as she neared, hand reaching up to slide around her waist.

“By them? Certainly.” The brunette’s hand smoothed along his shoulder, the pad of her thumb gliding across the velvet of his jacket. “By you, though, not hardly. Not ever.”

“You are insatiable,” Roman agreed in a rumble. He splayed his fingers against the small of her back, tugging her in closer and brushing their noses together.

“Just for you,” Varya murmured, and the words brushed their lips together just a little—but everything with Varya, like this, felt like almost-kissing, enough to push him to some kind of edge where his stomach twisted and wrenched with want when she added, “And only for you.”

“You know I can’t resist you when you talk like that.”

She laughed, leaning in to set her glass to the side and curl her fingers into his shirt for a kiss; everything for a second felt normal, and good, and right again, the strange way she’d gone-away back in the doorway having disappeared, the dark cloud over her having cleared, her wretchedness from dinner dissipated.

And Roman kissed her, with the sound of the party chatter ringing in his ears, and kissed her with the faint taste of champagne flooding his senses when she parted her lips against his, and kissed her while his hand fisted the fabric of her dress and he managed out in a voice rough with want, “So you’re trying to rile me up.”

“I always,” Varya murmured against his mouth silkily, “want you riled, Romy.”

“Varya?”

A stranger’s voice filtered through the haze—the rose-colored one that usually accompanied Varya saying anything like she wanted him riled up—and Roman felt the irritation spike straight through it. He turned to look at the interruption at the same time that Varya did, only to find a young, handsome blonde standing just a foot away.

Varya said, sounding faint, “Maxim?”

“It has been a while,” the blonde said, and he sounded sheepish. “I called Armazd, asking after you—”

“Sorry,” Roman interjected briskly, fingers still curled—now possessively—into the fabric of Varya’s dress against the dip of her spine, “but who are you?”

His wife started to say, “Romy, this is—” at the same time that the man began, “I am sorry, my name—” and they both stopped at the same time, a strange little silence stretching between them.

“Maxim,” Varya said after a second, turning to look at Roman now. “This is Maxim. He is Artyem’s son.”

Roman stared at her, more to buy himself time than anything; she said the name like he was supposed to know who that was. Artyem, but it didn’t sound familiar. Almost any Russian name sounded like gibberish to him, and if Varya had said it to him, it had been in passing, an afterthought, nothing but a whisper of information passed between them before it was gone again.

Until it did. Until he remembered that the person Varya had thought was her father had actually been Artyem, that she’d poisoned him, let him bleed to death on the carpet while she had mentally checked out of the moment. That she had watched him die, but she had been somewhere else—someplace else, the way Ilarion had described it, very far away where she couldn’t even enjoy what she’d done fully.

And Maxim—golden, and polished, and clean-shaven—looked awfully pleasant for someone whose farther had choked to death on his own blood because of Varya.

“I see,” Roman said, even though he didn’t. His gaze turned to Maxim. “And you’ve—shown up without calling ahead?”

“I have been in Turkey,” Maxim explained, “finishing up some business, and I did not know how to get in touch—”

“Well, you spoke with Armazd, didn’t you?” Roman’s head tilted. “The man practically sleeps in our bed, I imagine he would have been happy to get you in contact with us.”

“Admittedly,” Maxim said, “I wanted it to be a surprise—”

No, Roman thought absently, venomously, that won’t do at all.

“—Varya’s birthday—”

“So you slunk in,” Roman elaborated tartly, “like a little street dog, hm?”

“Maxi,” Varya interjected, fingers absently tracing the stitching on Roman’s jacket, “why don’t you go get a drink and acquaint yourself with our friends? Armazd is just there—you see?”

Maxim’s eyes darted between her and Roman for a minute. He shifted on his feet, tilting and giving a little smile that might have liked abashed if Roman didn’t think he saw a little squirm of self-satisfaction in his gaze. Fucker.

“Of course,” the blonde replied after a moment. “C dnyom razhdyenyem, Varushka.” He took a step forward, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Varya’s thumbnail dug into the lapel of Roman’s jacket. “Thank you, Maxi.”

Once the blonde had departed, linking up with Armazd in the crowd to get introduced, Roman straightened up from the bar. It was impossible not to stare at this newcomer—he glowed with an easy charisma, flashed bright smiles that were all teeth. Roman hated him already.

“Maxi?” he asked her, eyes narrowed, and Varya sighed. He waited for her to elaborate. Perhaps she’d say they had dated once, perhaps they were literally nothing. That would be ideal, after all. Ships passing in the night.

She said, “We grew up together.”

Even worse. Roman twisted a loose, dark curl of hers around his finger. “And you killed his father.”

“Well—” She paused, mouth pressing into a thin line. “He does not know.”

“He doesn’t—” The notion that she was keeping secrets, and not from him, coiled high and happy in his throat. He tried not to sound too delighted when he said, “V, surely he knows.”

“Surely he does not, that I did it. Only that it happened. And I will keep it that way,” she added firmly, picking up her champagne glass from the bar top. “Maxim was incredibly loyal to my father because Artyem was, but more than that—he was mine and Ilya’s friend. I’m sure he is missing Ilya almost as much as I am.”

“As we all are,” Roman agreed sagely, planting a kiss on her temple in spite of the dry look she gave him. It was hard to tell, to get a read on this Maxim. What was it he’d dragged himself out of the trenches for? Just to fly halfway across the world to wish Varya a happy birthday? Above all things, Roman understood that his wife was a desirable thing, and knowing that he kept her out of the reach of others was part of her appeal—but that much? Could someone who was just a friend want that much?

He continued, “So what is it that Maxim offers to the business, hm?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Varya demurred, which didn’t sound at all like the truth. “Artyem was the one who sent him out on jobs. My father kept things tight around the top, you know. If anyone would know what it was Maxim was up to in Turkey who wasn’t my father or Artyem, it would have been Ilarion.”

“I find it hard to believe you have no idea what your father was using someone for.”

The sound of delighted commentary drew both of their eyes away; Irina had come down, both dark-haired infants in her arms, and was walking them toward Varya and Roman. Murmured remarks on what could only be their cuteness passed throughout the crowd of party-goers.

“I am putting them down for bed,” Irina announced as she approached, “and I know you like to say goodnight.”

“Oh, you are an angel,” Varya murmured, glass set aside once again. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to baby Ro’s cheek. Yuliana babbled, and she sighed dreamily, “Have you ever seen more perfect babies, Roman?”

Perfect babies, a perfect wife; soon, he would even have the perfect grip on Gotham’s neck, throttling it until it was nothing but dust and ash. Soon, but not soon enough; he’d be content when it was just done and settled, when there was nothing else standing between him and everything that he wanted. Varya, and the guns—what an odd thing, to know that a year ago he’d set out for this and it was just falling into his lap.

“Romy?”

“Never,” Roman replied, smiling and glancing back at his wife, reaching and cradling the back of Yuli’s head. “I’ve never seen more perfect babies, V.”

Across the room, Maxim watched them. There was something about it that Roman didn’t like—the way his eyes flickered, the way he looked between the children and Varya, the way their eyes met and he didn’t deflect away. Like he didn’t mind getting caught. Where had he come from? What little shithole had he crawled out of, over a year after Nikita’s death and Ilarion’s death—longer, still, since his father’s death? Hadn’t he wondered what had happened to his father?

What are you doing here, he thought venomously, that you think you can just come in here like nothing? Like I won’t root you out like the little rat you are?

Maxim smiled. It was a polite smile, unassuming kind of smile.

Roman picked up his drink from the counter, taking a heavy swallow. Suddenly, the evening seemed to stretch out endlessly in front of him, no finish line in sight.

Nothing else standing between me and everything I want.

And he was going to keep it that way.

#birds of prey #birds of prey fic #roman sionis x original female character #ch: varya astakhova #ch: roman sionis #ch: victor zsasz #roman sionis/original female character #my writing #fic: the land of gods & devils #me sweating profusely posting this #i am really excited about this though and i want to really really thank everyone who has been supportive of me pursuing this!!!! #creeping up on varya's birthday and also the one year anniversary of CYT making me super emo #<3 <3 <3

[acesgroupchat]

Distance Drabbles Day 294:

69: Progress | Poster 83: Xiao Jinghuan

It is the height of summer, and Xiao Jinghuan has spent the entire morning watching his tiny daughter, awaiting the fateful moment.

Yuli beams at him, and it is so difficult not to immediately pick her up, cover her dear face with kisses, and hold her close. But his baby girl has been rocking on her knees for weeks now, and Jinghuan is certain. Today his daughter will crawl for the first time, and Jinghuan will be there.

He will never be emperor, but what could a throne compare to this. He holds out his arms, and Yuli stumbles forward.

#nirvana in fire #langya bang #xiao jinghuan #distance drabbles #this is a mini epilogue to Turn the River South #I really think JInghuan would have been happier #if he had been allowed to give up

[realeyesrealizereallies4036]

 - Then, Elta talks about her #metoo experience. She mentions that “Jensen” talked to Schwann. 

I’m sorry, “talked”? He should’ve beat Schwann's ass. Beard or not, Elta is still someone he is close to. Whoop the dudes ass in her honor. Below are a few examples of what he did.

- After, they have a talk about depression, and Jewel mentions Jensen helping *someone* with their depression. He goes into it about how people have found comfort in fandom and discuss their mental illness.

Not once is JARED mentioned by name. WTF. Elta talks about her own anxiety, which from how she describes it sounds like what everyone deals with. Nothing chronic, but go off sis.

- Elta did a movie and the lead actress was “mean to her.”

She punched that Paula (or was it Claudia?? help me out ppl) girl in the face for being rude and she doesn’t hesitate to clap back on social media, but Elta decided to be a delicate flower in this situation. Oh, please.

So she picks and chooses who she hits back at. If you’re really about it, be about it. Don’t chicken out.

- JJ pops in and says that Arrow popped her in the eye. Jensen’s response - “Don’t hit back!” Do you need to tell her that? She should know not to hit a baby lol.

- A fan asks a question, and Elta asks Jensen to tell the fan about... THEN CUTS HIM THE FUCK OFF before he has the chance to say anything.

- Then of course the beautiful clip of them owning up to sending the kids off with Yuli and not being hands on parents.

ALL CLIPS MENTIONED ARE HERE.

Bonus gifs! (love to panda!)

#myedit #livestream of doom #anti jenneel #i regret this coloring #it's too pink

[prowlingthunder]

WIP Meme 10/20/2020

Tagged by: @mandakatt

Look at what you've done. How dare you. I'm not even sure this is all of them. I think some are hidden in gdocs yet. Argh.

Tagging: @egodominustuus @thelostknee @linwyrms-lair @gracethescribbler @skywalking-across-the-galaxy @khantoelessar @zpansven

Read the list under the cut.

1: A Child of Blood

2: Eileen - Birds of a Feather

3: BtVS - Lupercalia - Xander - Wolfthreat - WIP

4: BtVS - PT Alexander Harris Auroresbrother - Denguards - LUPERCALIA - WIP

5: Buffy the Witcher

6: SynthSil - Ascendent Ab Inferis (Lux Aeterna AU)

7: Boys in Blue

8: Butterfingers the Deathclaw

9: Piper - (Lupercalia)

10: Sil/Jack

11: CM - Lupercalia WIP - Red

12: CM - Lupercalia WIP -

13: AC/FFXV - Des and Noct swap places - ffxv Halloween bang

14: Trigun x Outlaw Star

15: Gargoyles x Ronin Warriors

16: Power Rangers x Ronin Warriors

17: Ronin Warriors x Outlaw Star

18: Rurouni Kenshin x Yu Yu Hakusho

19: Dragons Breath -- DAO&RW

20: Farcry 5 / What Became of Edith Finch - Eddie

21: Farcry 5 / What Became of Edith Finch - Jake

22: Gundam Wing - With Daemons WIP

23: GW Pacific Rim

24: GW&IA&FFX - Auron - Roulette - Unlikely

25: Hobbit/RW - Bilbo -

26: House Ronin Warriors

27: RK-Xmen = Dragon Teeth

28: RW-PJ

29: RWSG1

30: SG1/JOS - Third - In a God's Bedroom

31: ST/RW

32: SW/GW - Brothers and Sisters [clonefic]

33: Thor-x-Ronin Warriors

34: Noctis (Final Fantasy XV) / Levi (Attack on Titan) - Hunting [Noctis in AoT]

35: Hiei (Yu Yu Hakusho) / Prowls (Exalted) - Stars [Prowls adopts Fire Demon baby]

36: Noctis (Final Fantasy XV) / Ezio (Assassin’s Creed) - Family [Assassins in FFXV]

37: Kuwabara (Yu Yu Hakusho) / Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars) - Honor [Kuwabara unfucks SW]

38: Kuwabara (Yu Yu Hakusho) / Dex-Star - Love [Kuwabara adopts a Red Lantern Cat]

39: Voltron/Escaflowne

40: When the Night Comes/Arcana crossover

41: YYH/Naruto - Kurama - Foxkids

42: CSI NY - Lupercalia WIP -

43: Dark Matter - Hiro - [Lupercalia] - WIP

44: Every Warden Ever - WIP -

45: Nelaros and F!Tabris as wardens

46: Salazar - Crowbar Fic

47: Carslile/Sil - Highschool

48: Joan rambles

49: Junior - (Best laid plans)

50: Junior - Outsider

51: Junior - The G.O.A.T.

52: Junior rambles

53: MacCready - Big Town Blues

54: MacCready - Radstorm

55: Nora - Line-dried Laundry (Lupercalia)

56: Pandora -

57: Pandora - Lupercalia Fic - [Inside Pandora's Box]

58: Pandora rambles

59: Russian Roulette - Silas deathfic

60: Sil/X6 rambles

61: Silas - Demon Summoner AU - A Leaf in the Wind

62: Silas King - Snow Angels (Papawolf!Renigald)

63: Silas King - Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (Operation: Rescue Quinn kidfic)

64: Silas rambles

65: Winter Animals (papa!Artem)

66: Y7 - All the Things I Didn't Say

67: Ambulo

68: Contritum Coronam

69: to abstain from doing harm

70: A General Gift

71: ABO nicias&caleb/nicola

72: An Army - Prompto & Ignis - Blood and Water

73: Andali misc

74: Ardyn - (Triplets verse)

75: Cathedral of You fanfiction

76: Cor -

77: Cor - Dawnfire - WIP

78: Dave - [Scourgeverse]

79: FFXV Glaive Lupercalia

80: FFXV Prompto Lupercalia

81: Galahdian Noctis au

82: give a brother wings

83: Halloween '19 d2

84: Halloween '19 d3

85: Halloween '19 d4

86: Halloween '19 d5

87: Halloween '19 d7

88: Noct raises Ardyn

89: Nyx -

90: Prompto - Terrible Things

91: Sealions - Cor - The Dance

92: snowchild (Lupercalia wolfProm fic)

93: The Feral Coeurl of Galahd (Galahdian!Cor fic)

94: Transplant Fic Box

95: Vipers Victim

96: what fire burns

97: IA - Kasmir!Oliver Briggs - WIP

98: IA - Nebrija x Arzu - Family - WIP

99: David and kids

100: David and Bridget, Combat Skills

101: David vs Simon Fight

102: Bridget tending David

103: Music *http://youtu.be/G2ZKKXCuaYc?t=9m46s

104: Seduction

105: Wish

106: Destiny

107: xerxes

108: Giayl - Wolflords (Lupercalia)

109: LotRO - Aegliraan - Caran Dagra - WIP

110: Lupercalia - Shepard - Star-light, Star-bright

111: ME - OC - Blood And Water

112: Black Cats and Broken Mirrors Chapter 5

113: Itachi - Step Two

114: The Hardest Part - Chapter One - Alone

115: 100+ Words list

116: Bioshock - Big Daddy - ABO verse

117: Character Roulette 2

118: Life of Redemption

119: A lover's homecoming

120: The Dreaming Cord

121: Logan - (This is what it's like) - WIP

122: Outlander - Kainan - (wolf fur and dragon teeth)

123: SPCH - drabble

124: Thor - All The Little Children [Lupercalia]

125: Thor - Lupercalia WIP - Frigga -

126: WoW - Livieva - Puppy At Heart

127: Haruko - Genji lives path

128: McHanzo Timetravel Shenanigans

129: Overwatch - Yuuma - Nest of Vipers - Big Bang

130: Stan/Haruko

131: Stanfic

132: Taijo Aitai tinyfic

133: Yuuma Op

134: Mia - Lupercalia fic - The Chosen Ones ch2

135: RW - Lupercalia - Arago & Hariel - Blood and Ashes - WIP

136: Ryou - Coal Dust - GIFT - WIP

137: Seiji - Kagome, Kagome

138: Seiji & Cale - Quadrature Pt2 - GIFT - WIP

139: Yulie WIP

140: Dinner

141: Bamboo

142: Travel

143: Sting

144: City

145: Noise

146: Titan

147: Oddyseus

148: Hera

149: Archangel

150: Centaur

151: Gorgon

152: Rainforest

153: Music

154: Groot

155: Plagues

156: Courage

157: Rage

158: Belief

159: Joy

160: Horoscope

161: Family

162: Obligation

163: Friend

164: Loneliness

165: Anakin - - timetravel fic tcw/ep7

166: Anakin / Rey - A Pocket Full of Sand (Reincarnation Fic)

167: Eurynome - Monsters in the Dark

168: Eurynome - Supernova?

169: Jeeri -

170: Shmi Skywalker - Son of Sands [Aniwolf]

171: Snowdrops

172: Star Wars AU Fics

173: StarWars - WIP

174: Trials and Shenanigans (Bits and Pieces)

175: We Shouldn't Be Friends

176: SG1 - Sam - - WIP

177: SG1 - Sam&Jack - - WIP

178: SAO - Yui - SAOFest - Marching Band

179: SAO - Yui - SAOFest - What Big Sisters Are For

180: SAO w Jaegers - Silica - WIP

181: Series: Bad Plan

182: Arrow&RW - Oliver - - WIP

183: Cye - Homecoming (Multiverse)

184: Papa!Cye

185: little shadows far reaching

186: Untitled document

187: Voltron - Keith -

188: Geralt - Witchwolves [Lupercalia]

189: Hell Hath No Fury

190: Chapter 3

191: Adventures of Maiwen Tanet

192: Art of Living

193: Asclepius

194: Bloodlines

195: Bondsiblings

196: Cats Cradle

197: Smoke Song

198: Darkness Watching

199: Desert Sands

200: Dragon's Cross

201: Dragonkin

202: Fractured

203: Hydra

204: Lyric Book

205: Poetry Book

206: Red Moon Kisses

207: Rupert's Drop

208: Feyborn

209: Superheros

210: Wonderland

211: A Mother's Love

212: Harry Potter and the Light of the Moon

213: Minor Troubles

214: Roses In Stained Glass

215: Even God Can't Save You Now

216: Mirrors Edge -

217: Our Secrets

218: Mica Sands

219: SG1/RW

220: They Call Them Ghosts

221: We All Bleed

222: In A House Of Brittle Bones

223: With A Crash of Thunder

224: Digital Shards [YGO/Digimon]

225: God Save The Queen

226: Fractured Light

227: AtlA/RW

228: NatM/YGO

229: SG1/StS

230: Van Helsing/Helsing

231: GW/Avatar

232: GW/JOH

233: Saving You

234: Firefly/Outlaw Star

235: GW/RW Reincarnation Is A Bitch

236: Escaflowne/RW

237: Mending Of Hearts Hope/Noel

238: The engines of iron Cindy/MTProm

239: Weaver's Undoing

240: A Nomad's surprise

241: A Soldier For Sale

242: Heir of Spring

243: The Ghosts of Haven

244: Master's Vengence gladio/prom d/s bdsm

245: The Unfortunate Ice Cream

246: The Perfect Hustle

247: The Adventure of Odie, the One Eyed Sock Puppet

248: Angels in the Attic

249: Mending the Sun

250: Numb to the Stars

251: Traitor of Heaven - ffx/ffvii

252: Isle of Iron

253: Irreverence

254: the empty tower

255: Bravery In Eternity

256: Changeling's Duel

257: Gilded Dispair

258: Wolfwan return of shark

259: Clonewolf O66

260: Time of the Wolf Lupercalia AU

261: Time of the Wolf Lupercalia snippets

262: Going Down (Cpt. America lupercalia)

263: wake up cpt+girls

264: Lokison

265: Uncle of Mine

266: The Things Wolfsisters Do

267: Howling

268: Shield Sisters

269: starhunter lupercalia

#memes #wip meme #writing meme #meme #fanfiction #ofic

[malinov-kompot]

61, 62, 69 and 70 :) 💕💕💕

Thank you Yuli! Love ya💕💕💕

61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby?

Ummm I'm not a fan of sweet talking, I only do it with special people with whom I feel like it.

62: What makes you happy?

You, @ritchieblackless and @deodorant-cake ❤️❤️❤️

My family

My best friends

Animals and flowers

Music

Books

69: Do you believe in soulmates?

Yes I dooooo :D

70: Is there anyone you would die for?

My parents, my best friend and y'all that I mentioned in 62💕

[historical-nonfiction]

Don’t Steal, Or You’ll Be Reincarnated As A Flea!

The Jade Record or “Yuli” is an illustrated religious tract that circulated in various versions and editions in the 1800s in China. It describes the horrors of Diyu --  “earth prison,” or hell, based on a mix of Chinese Daoism and Buddhist tradition.

According to the Jade Record, bad people are sent through ten courts after they die. Each specializes in punishing a specific misdeed. Examples include having weak faith in the Buddha, gambling, drinking, stealing, drowning baby girls, and disbelieving in the Jade Record.

At the end of their journey through Diyu, souls forget their past life, in the goddess Meng's “Tower of Forgetting.” They are then reincarnated in a new body. The new body depends on their old life. Bad people get bad bodies, good people get good bodies. Options include being an animal, an ill or ugly person, a poor person, and if they are lucky, a rich person.

#history #mythology #interesting #china #qing dynasty #religion #buddhism #daoism #taoism

[consumedkings-archive]

ii. damage done & damage made ✤ roman sionis/varya astakhova

words: 2.2k

summary: thanks to @starcrier​ for entertaining my daydreams about my favorite murder duo, we now have a oneshot that literally no one asked for: roman and varya, and their babies, in a tea shop. living their perfect crime lives. that’s all.

rating: m for Adult Language and threats of face-tearing

warnings: the aforementioned face-tearing, roman’s mouth (per usual), domestic murder family. babies being cute.

Mark liked his job, a lot. Working a tea shop felt like a step up from the typical entry-level customer service job, and he got a huge discount on all of the products—not to mention, flexible hours while he was balancing school and needing to pay rent, and premium people-watching. Some days, like today, the card machine acted up and he had to ask customers to put their card numbers in manually, but most of them were understanding. All-in-all: he felt pretty lucky.

So when a young couple wandered into the shop one afternoon, it felt like any other kind of afternoon for him. They matched the usual demographic that liked to stop there; well-dressed, usually a little more upper class given the neighborhood. The woman—small and slender, balancing a stylishly dressed infant on her hip—smiled at him charmingly while the man redirected a two-seat stroller to an area less clustered by shelves, slowly rocking it back and forth.

“Good afternoon!” Mark greeted as the woman approached, keeping his voice softer in case the man was trying to rock another infant to sleep. “Can I help you find anything today?”

“Hello! Yes, well—admittedly, I am not as well-versed in teas as I would like to be,” the brunette said sweetly, a little sheepish. The infant babbled happily and clutched the pendant of her necklace in his fingers.

Mark offered her a smile. “No worries. What kinds of flavors do you like? I have quite a few—”

“Varya,” the man said from where he had been pushing the stroller back and forth, “do you have my phone? I need to make a call.”

“Oh, yes. One moment.” She fished a sleek, dark phone from her purse, passing it to the man before turning her eyes back to Mark. The man, presumably her husband, dialed a number and balanced the phone between his ear and shoulder before the call connected and he started talking—his voice low so that Mark could barely hear him over Varya’s attentions. He had gloves on; black, leather, embossed with something in gold; maybe his initials?

Varya said lightly, “Flavors?”

He flushed, quickly diverting his eyes. “Yes, right. Your favorite flavors?”

“Hm. I prefer spiced teas,” she began, eyes scanning the shelves. “My mother used to make a tea with cloves and cinnamon, do you have anything like that?”

“Certainly,” Mark replied brightly. He turned back to the shelves, humming for a moment. She had had a bit of an accent; it sounded Russian, but it was so slight he couldn’t quite be sure. There were plenty of tourists and sightseers coming in and out of the shop that he’d gotten used to skimming for quick details, like accents or nice clothes or expensive jewelry. And if the gigantic rock on the woman’s finger was any indication, they were hitting all of the boxes for the people that usually walked into a boutique tea shop.

Pulling one of the jars off of the shelf, Mark pulled the cap and offered it to her to smell. “This one’s got cinnamon and cloves, but ginger and cardamom, too. I really like to make it with—”

“No, no, no, no,” her husband bit out into the phone, the stroller rolling to a stop as he stilled his attempts at keeping the baby asleep, “you listen to me, you pint-sized fuckhead, when I tell—”

Varya, completely unbothered by her husband’s vicious tone, shifted the infant to her other hip, smelling the looseleaf mixture again. “It smells so good. I think it is the ginger that makes it good. What did you say you like to make it with?”

“Um,” Mark said, trying not to stare at the man in the velvet suit saying, and I’m going to cut your fucking face off, you piece of shit, did you know that? Do you know who I am? That’s right, and I can do whatever I fucking want, and that means cutting your dumb fucking face off and putting it on display in my loft for my dinner guests, “cream?”

“Oh, that’s interesting,” she murmured idly, reading through the list of ingredients again. “Do you have those little—” She gestured with her free hand. “—to steep the mixture with?”

“Y—” Mark swallowed. His gaze flickered back to the glossy brunette, her lips pouted and the baby nestled against her neck, seemingly putting himself to sleep despite the noise. “Yes, of course. Do you prefer the, um...”

“In English, you fucker,” Roman seethed into the phone, “your—yeah, well, your boss is American, I don’t care where you were born. So tell me in English how many fucking guns are being held up in bumfuck-nowhere-Russia, you—”

“This one is nice,” Varya interjected gently, picking up one of the steel ones. “I like the ones that have a finer mesh. Less chance of getting the debris in there, you know?”

He was trying to remember when the last time he’d taken a breath was. It very suddenly all made too much sense—well-dressed couple, twins, the embossed gloves and the accent and oh my God, oh fuck, oh fucking God oh shit oh fuck I have Roman Fucking Sionis and his Russian gun lord wife in the tea shop I’m going to fucking die—

“Mark?” she prompted. The dulcet tone of her voice broke him out of the panic running through his brain. Unfortunately, the sound of her saying his first name only firmly cemented in his brain the fact that he was now assisting the wife of Gotham’s biggest crime lord in picking out a looseleaf tea.

He swallowed thickly. “H—How, um, did you know my name?”

Varya tilted her head inquisitively. “Your nametag, my love.”

“Oh,” he replied, letting out a nervous laugh. “Of course. Um. Right, those do have a finer mesh. I like them better too. It’s similar t-to the um—the kind of mesh you would—you would have in the teapot. You know. If you were going to do it by the pot. And not the cup. Like for more than one cup of tea.”

A smile ticked the corner of her lips upward. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought she was enjoying his apparent discomfort. “I do like to make more than one cup of tea, on occasion. Do you sell teapots? Can I see those?”

Mark opened his mouth to say that of course, she could see the teapots—did she want his? His personal teapot? He could run home and grab it if she wanted, please don’t shoot me in the face—when the stilling of the stroller’s movements seemed to have distressed the other twin. As soon as she started fussing, Roman threw his free hand up in exasperation.

“Do you hear that, Maxim?” he demanded. “That’s my daughter, crying, because I was so fucking fed up with your idiocy that I stopped rocking her to sleep. What? Do I want to—no, I don’t want your mother’s fucking aromatic recipe for putting infants to sleep, I’m already in a fucking tea shop!”

Varya let out a little sigh. “Excuse me one moment, Mark.”

“Sure,” Mark replied, scratching his forehead. “Sure, no worries, take—um, take your time.”

She swept away from him, returning the happy infant to the stroller and pulling from it the fussy one, bouncing the baby a few times before she said, “Romy, you know Yuli only likes when you bounce her. Trade me.”

Mark watched as Roman’s mouth downturned in a firm frown; he eventually acquiesced, taking the crying baby and offering the phone to Varya, who planted the phone against her ear and pushed the double stroller outside and into fresh air, taking with her the conversation which quickly shifted into a foreign language. For what it was worth, as soon as the little girl was in Roman’s arms, she almost immediately stopped fussing—though he did bounce her and make his way over to Mark, brows furrowed despite his daughter’s happy babbling.

“What one did she like?” he asked, less silken than his better half.

“What?”

“The tea,” Roman answered, squinting. “What tea did she like?”

“Uh,” Mark said, “the—uh, this one. Sir.” He held out the jar, but Roman waved his hand in dismissal.

“Pack some of that up. And the—whatever the fuck this is,” he added, gesturing at the steeper. “That too.”

Mark pulled one of the bags out from the drawer, working quickly despite the tremble in his hands. “Just the steeper? Sir?”

Roman had turned his attention back to the curly-haired baby, waving a gloved finger in her vision to keep her occupied, when Mark had posed his question. “What? Speak up, I’ve got a chatty infant here.”

“She—she wanted to look at the teapots, too.” Mark packed the looseleaf tea into the bag. The scale remained untouched. The idea of taking the time to weigh the tea and charge appropriately had completely fled his mind. “S—Sir.”

“Huh.” Roman squinted at the wall of teapots, seeming to deliberate for a moment. “We’ll take that one. The black and gold. And the steeper, and the tea.”

“Sure. For sure. Good choice. That’s my favorite one,” he added, realizing somewhere in his brain that he was babbling but that he couldn’t stop. “It’s hand-made, so it has—um, it has like...Little flaws, that make it worth a lot, because it was made by a famous—”

Varya returned to the shop, phone tucked away and only their doe-eyed son in her arms again. She gave Roman’s shoulder a squeeze with her free hand and then turned her attention to Mark, smiling prettily. “That’s the one he picked out?”

Mark nodded, hesitated midway through packing the pot. “Yes. Do you like it? Did you want a different one? I have some new ones in the back—”

“It’s perfect,” she assured him. She looked at Roman, glowing, and reached up to press a kiss to his cheek. “I love it.”

The blonde looked pleased. “Yes, well, who knows you better than me?” And then: “What did Kuznetsov tell you?”

Hurrying through the packing, Mark managed to get everything rang up amidst the couple’s idle chatter—which consisted of Varya explaining that ten thousand guns were held up in Kazakhstan, which was not Russia, but used to be part of Russia, at which point Roman waved his hand and went ‘whatever’—and ran the man’s heavy, black card through the card machine.

The machine beeped three times in alarm, and Mark felt his stomach plummet. The fucking machine’s broken, he remembered, with despair. Oh my God, oh my God, I’m going to fucking—

“What?” Roman barked out. “What is it?”

“The—the um, the machine is—I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “The machine is broken and I h-have to have you—put in the card number manually—”

The man made the most indignant sound, but before he could attempt to get fired up all over again, Varya said, “Romy, why don’t you load the twins up in the car? Armazd already put the stroller away. I’ll finish up here.”

Roman’s mouth pressed into a thin line, and then he said, “Alright, V,” and accepted the second infant into his other arm, toting them both outside. Varya looked at Mark and smiled sympathetically, holding out her hand for the machine; Mark handed it over, absently pulling at a loose thread on his apron as she started carefully inputting the card number.

“Do you have children, Mark?” she asked conversationally. “A partner?”

“Uh,” he replied very intelligently. “N-No. No ma’am. I mean, miss. No, I don’t have either of those, miss.”

“It is definitely a life change,” she said by way of agreement, pocketing the card and waiting for the machine to process. “Suddenly, your hands are full all the time.”

A nervous laugh bubbled up out of him, and he nodded his head; the seconds ticked by, agonizing as Varya hummed and gathered up the bag until it finally beeped its approval of the transaction.

“Thank you, my darling!” she called over her shoulder. “I am sure I will be back.”

“Welcome,” he replied weakly. He watched her make her way to the door, nearly out; it wasn’t until his shoulders slumped in a bit of relief that she stopped and turned to look at him, a sly little smile on her face.

“Before I forget,” Varya began, “perhaps, if you find yourself thinking about any of the conversation you heard today—you know, about business—it is best to keep it to yourself. It is not particularly confidential, you see, but...Well, I would just hate to feel like I could not bring my business back here because I cannot trust you.”

An unpleasant little chill sprinted down his spine. He shifted on his feet, wetting his lips for a moment as he tried to figure out what it was he wanted to say; how many times could he swear up and down that nothing he heard today about guns or Kazakhstan to assure her that she wouldn’t have to worry about it? That he would literally rather put pencil shavings in his eyes than put the Sionis target on his back?

“Mark,” she said, “all you have to say is that you understand.”

“I do,” he blurted out quickly, “I do understand.”

She smiled brightly. “I knew you were a good boy. Have a lovely afternoon!”

Just like that, she swept out of the shop; he was finally alone. Mark slumped into his chair, passing a hand over his face for a moment—long enough for him to sit up, press his face into the palms of his hands, and say:

“I have to quit my job.”

#my writing #otp: this smile is a loaded gun #roman sionis x original female character #birds of prey oc #roman sionis/original female character #bop oc #birds of prey fic #bop fic #i went to one (1) tea shop yesterday and now this has lived rent free in my brain #thanks to star for some reason putting up with this absolute nonsense #ch: varya astakhova #ch: roman sionis #ugh #i just miss......They #my children

[enzelffxiv]

It occured to me that I should probably make a "who tf are all these people" post for my characters. I have a bunch of bios half filled out but I always get sidetracked before I can finish them all and format them, so. Going to try to summarize everyone in a few sentences!

Imry Ceigwardwyn (Adamantoise, Balmung, Behemoth, Cactuar [rule 63] ) -a young Sea Wolf adventurer with a friendly and boisterous personality. Rather naive and clueless. Loves helping others. Both WoL and non-WoL flavors. (PLD/DRK. IC: gladiator w/o a soul stone, unless she does the DRK questline. Has some conjury ability.)

Victor Kresnik (Adamantoise) -expy of Victor from Tales of Xillia 2. Mostly for fun and looking sharp in a suit. Sometimes I play an AU version of him. Doting father, enthusiastic culinarian, estranged son of a wealthy Ul'dahn businessman. (DRG/NIN/WAR/MCH/CUL. IC: who the fuck knows but it involves the black market and murder.)

N'valyh Tia (Adamantoise) ["Val"] -Miqo'te mercenary and incorrigible flirt. Useless bisexual. Blind in one eye. Ends up in relationship w/ Akiv'a after double-crossing him, losing a fight to him, then later saving his life. (NIN/MNK. IC: fights with knives/fists/wrestling type moves, no formal training.)

Kototsuki Malaguld (Adamantoise) -Raen from the western mountains of Othard. Witnessed the fallout from Bozja. Hates Garleans. Exiled from her pacifist clan for having extreme anger issues, lived among the Malaguld tribe for a time before heading to Eorzea looking to fight stuff. (BRD/WAR. IC: fights with a bow & axe)

Nergui Malaguld (Adamantoise) -Steppe Xaela. His parents took Tsuki in when he was young. He's rather intimidated by her. Quiet and thoughtful. Loves to fish. Ended up in Eorzea when his parents sent him after his sister hoping she'd keep him safe. Now lives near Idyllshire with Akiv'a's cousin Sef. (BRD/FSH. IC: hunts with a bow but dislikes fighting.)

Faunh Seket (Adamantoise) -a Miqo’te from Meracydia who fled to Eorzea to escape an arranged marriage. Worked as a barmaid in Limsa before becoming an adventurer. Good friends with Akiv'a’s father. Anxious and judgmental but fiercely loyal. (BRD. IC: uses a bow, plays a mandolin-like instrument.)

Elouan Linvernois (Adamantoise) -Ishgardian astrologian. Falsely accused of heresy but miraculously survived his execution. Joined Faunh's adventuring band after they saved his life. Still heavily scarred & missing fingers. Bookish and a little awkward. Has a huge crush on Faunh that she's too nervous to admit she reciprocates. (AST/WHM. IC: Technically uses conjury but learns some Sharlayan astrology later on.)

Arst Outway (Adamantoise) -Expy/AU version of King Gaius from Tales of Xillia because I couldn't resist plonking him down in a DIFFERENT version of Fantasy Mongolia. (DRK eventually. IC: a big ol sword.)

Weinblyss Galeturner (Balmung) [Eyngeim Klynkestwyn] -Imry's long-lost cousin. Lost her family to a shipwreck as a child, raised by pirates. Now a drifter after her captain vanished in the turmoil of the Calamity. Offers her services as a mercenary and healer. Ruthless, amoral and a bit vain. Triple Triad fiend. (WAR/WHM/MCH/ALC. IC: Uses conjury, esp wind magic. Also proficient with axe & musket.)

Sivana Villeneuve (Balmung) [Noline Sellecerre] -XIVth Legion deserter. From a tiny northern village in Islabard. Joined the army to feed her family after her father perished at Carteneau. Decided self-preservation was more appealing after van Baelsar's defeat and faked the deaths of herself and her partner while on patrol. Worked briefly at Garlond Ironworks before becoming a courier. Irritable & no-nonsense. (DRG. IC: Was an eques. Fights with a spear but has passing knowledge of other weaponry.)

Aerling Dorne (Balmung) [Keiho Oshiga] -XIVth Legion deserter. Son of a Doman woman and a Garlean officer. Joined the army to escape the miserable circumstances of his birth. Was scouted for the Frumentarii but deliberately failed aptitude tests, apparently content to be a grunt forever. Strangely attached to Sivana, would probably do anything for her. Outwardly jovial, cowardly, doesn't seem to take much seriously. (PLD. IC: Was a hoplomachus.)

Pyha Sharpshade (Balmung) -Sky pirate. Former Coeurlclaw. Under Captain Tohnrune Rokren, her crew mostly raids slavers and other pirates who prey on the weak. (Much of the crew are escaped slaves themselves.) Laid-back, friendly, "cool big sister" type, a little impulsive and hotheaded. Doting partner of Duua Kagon. (NIN. IC: Fights with knives.)

Raiya Ceigwardwyn (Faerie) -Imry's older sister by four years. Introverted and a bit awkward, fascinated by all types of magitek. Likes to build things. Eventually follows her sister out into the world to accomplish her dream of joining Garlond Ironworks. (SCH/MCH. IC: dislikes fighting and avoids it as much as possible.)

Nennali Durant (Faerie) -Ala Mhigan refugee, was brought to the Shroud as a young child & raised by a Duskwight couple. Has a strong sense of justice & quick temper, but is a kind and loyal friend. (NIN/WHM. IC: Uses knives to defend herself, has some healing ability)

Tache Wystlan (Faerie) -Ala Mhigan refugee, was abandoned as a baby shortly before the city fell & brought to the Shroud along with Nennali. The two girls were accepted by the elementals on account of their strong innate conjury talents, but the woman that brought them there was turned away. Tache was raised by an adoptive family & in training to become a Hearer when Nennali left the forest, and eventually followed, her desire to be with her friend stronger than her sense of duty. Sweet and friendly and a little timid. (WHM. IC: Conjurer but not afraid to hit people w that stick.)

Yulili Yuli (Faerie) -A girl from Summerford with dreams of adventure and very overprotective parents. She met Imry at the Moonfire Faire one year and took the opportunity to run off and start her own adventuring career. (They actually dated very briefly before Yulili called it off, on account of Imry being too busy for her.) (BLM. IC: thaumaturge.) (also Imry's in game retainer)

Ketenbraena Skaetfyr (Faerie) -the result of Imry getting the DRK soul stone. An autonomous being of darkness born from Imry's despair and her inability to process her grief. (Ultimately sort of a mashup of Esteem-Fray and Myste. This was done before SB came out.) Imry views them as a separate person and wanted them to be able to experience life for themselves, and willed them a body of their own with...mixed results. Eventually she gave them the soul stone and gave up using it herself, since they can't maintain their form without it nearby. (DRK. Very literal here.)

Ragna Estelwede (Famfrit) -a mysterious scholar from Gyr Abania. [Working on this.] (SCH/RDM. IC: Arcanist, dabbles in other disciplines.)

Enzel Silverfist (Faerie) -Ragna's apprentice, a tall and reticent girl who, despite her training in the arcane arts, seems to prefer solving problems with her fists. (MNK. IC: PUNCH STUFF and a lil magic.)

Ehr Tohl (Faerie) -A young dragonet from Nidhogg’s brood trying to find his place in the world after the end of the Dragonsong War. Curious and friendly. Accompanied by his surrogate mother, a white aevis named Faye, formerly an Ishgardian noblewoman from 600 years past. (WHM. IC: Dislikes fighting and and avoids it if possible.)

Relulu Relu (Cactuar) -Adventurer/healer, constantly exasperated. (The result of my WHM of Darkness headcanons being jossed and deciding to make an OC w them instead.) (WHM. IC: conjurer)

Memenu Menu (Mateus) -One of Faunh & Elouan's adventuring companions. Died at Carteneau. Sassy grandma. Formerly of the Order of Nald’thal. (BLM. IC: thaumaturge)

Whispering Glacier (Zalera) -A young mountain Hellsguard who has decided to see the world. Curious & clever. (BLM/RDM. IC: Would be Dancer if it exists. Uses a variant of thaumaturgy.)

Laelius Valens (Goblin) [Laelius dus Valens] -Pureblood Garlean. Commoner who left home & took on a new name & became a security guard for a scientific facility in Islabard. AFAB NB, presents as male. Sharp-witted, dislikes attention & prefers to keep their head down. Self-preservation first and foremost. Reluctantly befriends a young scientist & does their best to keep him out of trouble. (PLD/DRG/MCH. IC: Trained with sword & shield, halberd, firearms.)

Estellise Sidos (Tonberry) -Expy of Estelle from Tales of Vesperia. Mostly a placeholder character b/c Tonberry was my first server and I like to visit. And use the game as a dress-up doll simulator. (PLD/WHM)

Other characters I don't have in game but use in RP:

Uriah Bellveil: N'valyh’s in game retainer, a merchant and old friend (and lover) of his Jaliqai Malaguld: Nergui's in game retainer, his cousin, excitable and hotheaded Grehwyta Swygwaenwyn: Imry & Raiya’s mother, captain of the merchant ship Lively Gale Ceigward Styrmwolksyn: Imry & Raiya’s father, navigator of the Lively Gale J'ranmaia: bodyguard & first mate, Lively Gale J’majha: Ranmaia's twin sister, ship's cook Zezeruda: ship's accountant & the one who told Imry adventuring tales Yvelle: conjurer & ship's healer Imry Crewe: Ala Mhigan adventurer, Imry's namesake. Missing, assumed deceased. A'rhaya: Ala Mhigan adventurer, Raiya’s namesake. Missing, assumed deceased. Sylbund Hyltkoensyn: pirate captain, the closest thing Weinblyss had to a father. Killed by a rival captain, avenged by Wein and Melchior. W'doyagha: Sylbund’s trusted friend & navigator Fyrilgeim: Innkeeper who often took in pirate orphans & unwanted children, the closest thing Weinblyss had to a mother Melchior Ortels: Wein's childhood friend & surrogate older brother, took over as captain after Sylbund’s death. A brilliant navigator. Wherabouts unknown since the Calamity. Theldry Masterman: a young girl who joined Melchior’s crew seeking vengeance against the pirates who killed her parents. Other crewmates: 

Sora: a mysterious Doman man. Saved Kamui's life, being the only person present who'd seen an Au Ra before, was able to translate for him. Armelius: a one-eyed sharpshooter. Half Highlander/half Hellsguard. Kerrich Fairclough: (all I've got is a name and appearance here) Kamui: a Hingan Raen found adrift in the ocean. He joined the crew with nowhere else to go. Loyal but doesn't talk much about his past. (Two Lalafell brothers who don't have names yet.) Paoriri Paori: XIVth Legion laquearius, was Sivana’s first army buddy. From Southern Islabard near Thavnair. Tannem: XIVth Legion signifer, originally from Dalmasca. She and Paoriri are an item. Céline & Maixentais Durant: Nennali's adoptive parents. 

-I do in fact have a couple NPC alts for fun but idk if I'll do anything with them anytime soon.

Some of my partner's characters who are important to mine: 

Akiv'a Ryaol: a Miqo’te from a remote Keeper tribe deep in the mountains of Coerthas. His father was a wandering adventurer from the Basilisk (P) tribe who took his young son with him. Saved Imry's life once and they became (reluctant on his part) friends. They are now nigh inseparable to the point where they're often assumed to be a couple. (They aren't; both of them are painfully gay.) Khai Ryaol [P'khai Tia]: Akiv'a’s father. His relationship with Akiv'a’s mother Kiht was unusual in that they had children due to mutual affection for each other. Deceased as of the Calamity. (Akiv'a is named after his grandmother, Akiv, in a slight deviation from regular keeper lore) Iiriku Rururiku: (former) Sultansworn and reluctant adventurer. One of Faunh & Elouan's companions. He and Memenu were old friends. Sanlie Kierha [N'kierha Sarre]: N'valyh's half sister by their father N'sarre. They didn't grow up together and only met as adults. Sefika Ryaol [Sef]: Akiv'a’s cousin, a fierce hunter with a wicked sense of humor. Calgaran Talareis: a mysterious Duskwight woman who trained Imry when she was a fledgling adventurer for a time. Montienne David: Nennali and Tache’s childhood friend. Nennali's parents took him in after he lost his remaining family to the Calamity. X'lhenai: an Ala Mhigan refugee Nennali meets on her travels. They have a tempestuous relationship at best. Duua Kagon: sky pirate, formerly of the Steppe.

#someone take the character creator away from me #enzel.txt

[pergibali-blog]

Taksu Spa : Wellness Wonderland Bali

New Post has been published on https://www.pergibali.com/taksu-spa-wellness-wonderland-bali/

Taksu Spa : Wellness Wonderland Bali

In the midst of Ubud’s colourful new age, wellbeing scene, Taksu spa serenely amidst a jungle setting. A river runs through its centre and the tropical environment seeps into every corner.

Taksu spa has grow to be a recuperation centre, spa centre and yoga centre like no other. This is the area in which specialized yoga practitioners teach small classes of no greater than a dozen students. All sorts of thrilling recuperation modalities are to be had for guests at this New Age Day Spa. You can come for a rubdown and leave with a whole new imaginative and prescient of the world.

Early birds come for 7am yoga and a huge buffet breakfast crammed with properly things. Others simply come for the breakfast.

Treatments range from Access Consciousness to Bars, the wondrous Theta restoration with Erika, Sound Healing, to the very achieved anti getting older Dr Yulie who can help set up a new diet plan and restoration remedies to bring your healthiest side forward.

Taksu spa are nothing if no longer modern and proper now they may be operating the final information in their new gluten loose menu that is a situation that appears to affect more and more people. It is the modern-day Ubud fitness trend. This is in which you discover that food can be scrumptious and satisfying in addition to recovery. Fresh salads, direct from the garden, vegetarian and vegan dishes are served with the aid of their talented crew of raw chefs – all inside the terrifi garden restaurant. Beautifully presented and scrumptious, they deliver an instant feeling of nicely being. You can sit down at a comfortable sales space with a group of friends, or find a quiet table for a personal tête-à-tête.

Taksu spa are putting together an interesting choice of uniqueness packages. You may want to spend a whole day there and a regular day should look some thing like this:

Start with yoga in the garden, below the trees, then a morning coffee or juice within the garden eating place earlier than a talk over with Dr. Yulie. She is a specialist in nutrients and antiaging and recharging the endocrine system. She will diagnose you and recommend a course of restoration treatments and possible weight loss program changes.

Follow with a uncooked or vegan lunch and be amazed at how delicious healthful eating can be. Babi guling or a steak may by no means look the identical again.

After a chilled lunch and maybe a saunter across the forested garden, a specialized rub down from their extensive menu might be just the ticket. Reviews of their massages and well skilled therapists are glowing to say the least. Ayu and Jero, particularly seem to get a whole lot of accolades. Massages variety from the Esalen rubdown, Thai, Balinese, therapeutic, and extra. All the girls are carefully trained and everybody wanting to take advantage of a special fee can try the practicum treatment, wherein the therapists practice their new found capabilities for a lovable 50% discount. Its pretty a bargain.

One of my private favourites is a reflexology remedy within the garden. Lying lower back on a comfy rub down bed looking on the trees, even as one among the lovable spa girls attends to your ft and legs – its twenty minutes of natural bliss and makes you feel that all is proper with the world.

If a rubdown is not for your interest, they also offer facials, infra red sauna, pranic recovery with Dr Tri, sound restoration – that’s REALLY enjoyable and such a lot of right things which you just want to head and strive it for yourself. Taksu is full of thrilling pathways to wellness.

Taksu Spa Address : Jl Goutama Selatan, Ubud Telephone : [phone] web : www.taksuspa.com

#taksu spa #taksu spa ubud