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probably-haven · 3 years

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How Visions Work(Theory)

genshin spoilers

there’s a lot of headcanons about the effect of visions on the body temperature of the characters with pyro or cryo visions but a lot of them stop there an i want to propose we take it one step further

so the general agreement is that pyro users run hot and cryo characters run cold but imma take a moment to talk about the science of that real quick.

if something feels warm, its because the object is expelling heat from itself to its outside environment(itself losing warmth) if something feels cold, its because it’s absorbing and taking the heat from the outside environment into itself(itself gaining warmth)

which actually matches up pretty well with how i believe their visions work which ill cover before getting into what i think that means

pyro visions work by absorbing the users body heat and before then expelling it into the environment when they wish to use it. When the vision reaches what is essentially its max storage capacity, it resumes working at normal, absorbing heat from the user until it’s used, but at this point it stabilizes, because the pyro energy built up within begins overflowing into the nearby environment, a majority of it returning to the user to keep their body temperature from getting too dangerously out of wack. But by passing through the vision, the body heat is converted into pyro energy and made more intense, so the surplus tends to linger around the user, hence the heat that can be felt when touching or around them. the user can then use their powers with either the pyro energy stored in the vision, or that which still lingers around them.

cryo visions on the other hand work in a bit more of a complicated manor. like pyro visions and other visions, most of the energy that they get is from interaction with the user, in this instance, steadily taking heat from the environment that would have naturally have been observed by the vision had it been any other inanimate object and passing in through the vision and into the user, the process creating of the heat leaving the vision creating cryo energy, a sort of anti-heat vaccuum-like substance, which once it reaches it’s max, overflows in a way similar to the pyro vision, leaking into the nearby environment, helping to balance the user’s body temperature while the remainder lingers around them, absorbing heat from the environment. the user can then use the energy stored in the vision(less than pyro because more steps means less room) or that which still lingers around them (more because less room means more over flow), plus they need more surplus in order to balance cuz their temperature is more volatile

visions do however possess the ability to begin expelling energy early should the user’s body temperature become too dangerous, an ability that is missing from delusions of the corresponding element

this leads me to have a few headcanons that i really like because im obsessed with angst

1. contrary to what you might believe, after using a significant amount of their powers, Pyro users are are absolutely cold to the touch(cuz the lack of surplus energy leaves nothing to disguise or raise their low body temperature as the constantly absorbing heat to refuel) and Cryo users feel hot (the lack of surplus energy doing nothing to disguise or lower their high body temperature as the vision is constantly having to expel surrounding heat into the user in order to refuel cryo energy)

2. however during this state they are also the least likely to leave behind traces of elemental energy(like those that can be seen with elemental sight)

3. this cycling of energy actually makes a vision behave more like a part of the user that also serves its own role in maintaining homeostasis (makes it so losing a vision is quite literally comparable to losing an organ)

4. until the vision has enough stored energy for surplus to linger, Cryo users are prone to over heating and Pyro users are prone to the opposite

5. this rapid and common changing of internal body temperature also tends to weaken their immune systems

6. the lingering surplus of energy is also more easy to manipulate than the stored energy, so while it lingers, it has a tendency to be easily influenced by the user’s emotions.

7. yes this means accidentally freezing and setting things on fire during emotional extremes, or more subtle effects for those that are less extreme

8. in dragonspine, Cyro users are actually weaker but healthier. The lack of heat to cycle through their vision and body means less cryo energy is created, but less heat is there to build up in their bodies

9. Pyro users on the other hand- are in real big danger, unless they made sure to have large amounts of elemental energy before hand. They take longer at the torches they like because they need every bit of heat to raise their naturally low temperature and to make more pyro energy to both light the next torch, and to constantly have enough surplus that it doesn’t just steadily drain all the pyro they have.

10. a lot of the pyro users are overly energetic and active and move around alot, which is known to raise body temperature, and whould help with this, then there’s hu tao who while energetic is not all that active, but i think her job of “guarding the border” makes her more tolerant of the low body temperature. similar to yanfei’s constitution as an adeptus. Bennet is energetic but doesn’t move around quite as much and all, but... his luck is bad enough that he just thinks everyone feels like/has to deal with that. and Diluc- we’ve all seen the fluffy jacket. Klee constantly setting grass on fire and otherwise being hyper. Amber, gliding champion of mondstad, “i feel like running” Amber. Yoimiya is pretty active and works around fire. I dont have Xinyan so i dont know for sure in her case but i assume it fits the bill.

11. as for cryo characters- Qiqi is a zombie and Ganyu is half adeptus, different constitution. A lot of the characters are or try to be more calm and level headed, known for being kind of “slackers” to use kaeya’s words, though by this i mean they dont do excessive physical activity outside of training and that which is necessary. Diona is a bartender, often staying in one place, the opposite of pyro, keeping her body temperature down. Ayaka rarely leaves the kamisato estate. Chongyun is complicated- more on him later. Rosaria known for shirking her church duties and being basically lazy, the same as Kaeya. And Eula- i actually dont have an explanation- maybe just... the training to endure- like that one test where you have to walk through dragonspine all fancy without being thrown off.

now as for Chongyun

him with his popsicles and yang energy, needing to maintain a cool body temperature at all times as a result of his constitution

i mentioned a failsafe of visions, where should their users’ body temperature lean to dangerously to any one extreme, the vision will begin releasing the stored elemental energy early.

Chongyun’s however doesn’t store energy at all, instead immediately expelling all cryo energy it makes as soon as it forms so it can immediately absorb any dangerous body heat that Chongyun was exposed to in it’s making. This means that the surplus energy(the type more likely to be accidentally manipulated by emotions) around Chongyun is more than most other cryo users would have.

however, the balance is really fragile because his temperature is kept from getting out of hand almost entirely by his vision so external factors are extremely dangerous, as there is a still a cooldown between the transfer of heat the release of cryo energy- so unexpected sources of heat can cause a rapid rise in already fragile temperature that runs its course and wreaks havoc on the childe before the cryo energy is able to balance it out- and the problem is- with the surplus being easily manipulated by emotions, the sudden rise in temperature has a tendency to activate it, using it up and leaving him without a source of temperature regulation, which only worsens the problem. at which point the vision probably begins storing cryo energy until theres enough built up to reset his body temperature in one go- which usually ends with him passed out.

anyways i had a lot more planned to write but if i kept going i fear how long it’d get- i just think it has potential to evolve into a lot of cool things and theories for how the world works, and reflect the archons..... let me explain that-

so assuming anemo energy is created bey absorbing and then renewing the oxygen in the user’s blood, as opposed to dangerous body temperatures, it tends to have an anemic affect on their wielders, hence why all the anemo vision users have this tired air to them, Xiao’s... Xiao-ness- he just looks exhausted, Jean’s constant exhaustion that totally isnt made any better by her workload, Kazuha’s general calm relaxed disposition, and sucrose’s general demeanor- idk i just think anemo vision wielders give off anemic vibes, until they have enough surplus for the taken oxygen to replenish

except for venti- who doesn’t actually use a vision, who is literally a wind sprite, made of air- always running around and being all energetic- because he doesn’t face these problems- if anything he has extra energy and air to use. He’s basically the opposite. (windrise may have some weight in this-)

which means other archons may model this-

im not sure about geo but with electro

assuming that the constant transfer of electricity through the user’s body would eventually have a frying effect that shortens their lifespan over time(an idea largely inspired by Lisa’s voice line on visions and other theories on it) then Baal’s steady eternity serves as another opposite to this and yet pursuing eternity it becomes odd that she would give visions at all, so i feel archons must get some benefit from giving visions or she wouldn’t have done it-

but anyways imma stop now- hopefully someone found this interesting and runs with it, but if not it makes sense too

... actually geo might have something to do with an erosion-like metaphor, similar to what was brought up in the azdaha fight

still thinking about hydro tho, and im not even gonna bother with dendro

....

..... can you tell that I kin Sucrose and Albedo yet? It’s not even funny istg it’s becoming a problem .... actually scratch that i have a dark sense of humor, its kinda pretty funny

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heterochromatica · 3 years

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Headcanon(s)..

…about Todoroki Shotos Quirk this time...

What it feels like: General speaking Todoroki does not have a concept for "hot" or "cold" which does not mean that he cannot feel anything. He isn't numb. He can feel differences in temperatures but he does not feel a sting from it, he does not get burned or frostbitten when touching something every normal human being would flinch away from. We see this since he's literally sitting in a pot of boiling water without taking any damage. Meaning the outside of his body does not take any temperature related damage. I also think that the further you go inside his body the more "vulnerable" it gets meaning if he cools himself down too much his inner organs will take damage the outside does not. So he does reach a limit, as we have seen in the movie, very much able to get too cold, like Enji who can overheat but that has nothing to do with the outside of his body. It's the inner organs that cannot withstand the heat or the cold for too long or to too extreme degrees.

How it works: His quirk basically works over some kind of either endo- or exothermic reaction under his skin. Simply put each of his cells that either naturally consumes heat or produces heat in some kind of chemical reaction. While his right side is usual just as chilled as his left side is warm, its also not perfectly splitting him in the very middle. He’s aware of it too but its admittedly hart to describe to someone who does not know how he feels. There are some areas on his body that are usually at normal human temperature unless he’s used each sides quirk too much for it to take an impact on his internal system. His body is used to the difference by now, the further away from his center you go, the more prominent is the change in temperature. Meaning if you touch each hand at the same time, you will notice that the difference is significant. That is probably the simplest way to put it. For example: stomach and chest barely have a palpable difference to the touch, its a bit mixed up in his mouth too. His tongue is more sensitive to temperatures than most of the rest.

His Quirk control: I do think that Todorokis quirk is not just the emitting type it was categorized as at the beginning. I think he does have to subconsciously / semi-control it like non-stop, 24/7 all the time. He does not need to "activate" it at all, which we have seen with some of the sketches of cats preferring his warm side over the other, rubbing against his left leg only because they like the warmth. So it's there even in his day to day life. Like he does not really think about it, but I think after it was shown several times that he’s actually able to regulate his body temperature at will, makes me think, being affected by Aizawas quirk, for example, must be hella unsettling for him to be honest. He's used to be in control even if that control is very subtle and underlying to keep himself at a more or less normal temperature. If he’s stripped of that unconscious control of his body for too long he might get anxious because he’s been used to this feeling for 16 years without a break so it surely would be weird to suddenly loose control about it. His own body at a normal human temperature? I think it must be a tiny bit scary. Which also goes hand in hand with his quirk malfunctions when overworked (faltering control) which we have again seen in the movie or during the sports festival when he's covered by frost, breathing out puffs of air that's actually too cold for his lungs or when in severe emotional distress, seen how his hair lights up with a couple flames when Deku first calls him out during their fight.

#headcanon #Go bury your demons #then tear down the ceiling #phoenix fly #Main Verse Todoroki Shoto rp Manga based

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outthefryingpan · 4 years

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Your writing is amazing ! I'm a sucker for fluff personally,, so if I have to suggest something,, it'd be cuddles. Just cuddling after a long,, busy day. Maybe in Winter,, a specially cold day,, those are the best days for cuddling,, and more so if it's with such a hot (pfft) monster like Grillby ! Just giving ideas,, I'll be happily reading anything you update here next. Have a nice day. :)

Cold Nights

Pairing: Grillby/Reader

Rating: Everyone

Notes: I’m a sucker for that too! I very much enjoy this suggestion, thank you! Send more any time u like :^> This is set on the surface! Most of the pieces I write will be set this way unless stated otherwise.

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You can’t believe how late it is when you finally begin walking home. Pulling your phone out and pressing the home button tells you it’s only a few minutes away from midnight. Your feet ache, and you want nothing more than to just crawl into bed.

Luckily for you, it isn’t a long walk to Grillby’s from where you are, maybe a little over 5 minutes, but you really hadn’t anticipated it being this cold and blustery out. Then again, you didn’t anticipate your boss holding you back as late as she did either, so you use that as your excuse for being jacket-less. In reality, it probably wouldn’t have been much warmer out even if you did leave on time, but you’re just going to ignore that. You unceremoniously shove your phone back into your pocket and quicken your pace, holding your hands together in an attempt to conserve some of your already waning warmth.

In hopes of distraction, you let your mind begin to wander. Initially your prerogative is “think warm thoughts”, but of course that only leads you to thinking of Grillby. It’s inevitable. He’s the warmest thing you can think of.

You think back to when he first opened up his bar on the surface, and how he would stay open all night, every night. The new influx of customers quickly overwhelmed him, and so he changed his hours to accommodate a new goal of his, one he’d adopted upon reaching the surface. He called it the, “not work myself to death” rule. You, nothing more than a new friend at the time, had laughed at that. It was one of the first jokes he’d made around you. You laugh again now, thinking about how horrible a job he’s done in sticking to his goal. Maybe it’s just unrealistic for him, you muse.

No, that isn’t fair. He drastically changed his hours when he first got here. Underground, he’d been open every day from noon to 3AM. How he’d managed a 15 hour work day every single day all by himself was absolutely beyond you, but he told you that down there, he really didn’t have much else to do.

In a more private setting, after the two of you had grown closer, he confessed that when he lived underground, he felt a sense of obligation to be open as often as possible, to act as a sort of home base for those monsters who were struggling, or just needed someone to help stave off their loneliness.

Here on the surface, things are better! But they’re a lot different too, a lot busier. And so, with some kind pushing from his friends, he had ultimately decided not only to tighten his hours, but to hire some help as well.

You consider that to be the start of a deeper relationship blossoming between the two of you. You had offered to wash dishes and help with cleanup, and he gratefully accepted. You started talking more, spending more time together, and... The rest is history, you suppose.

Now, he takes Sundays off, and closes at 10PM on Mondays. His daily hours are still pretty packed, but he has more servers and kitchen staff to help out with them.

Suddenly, you blink in surprise at yourself as that reminds you of something.

Today’s Monday! That means he should have closed a while ago!

You sent him a text earlier when you found out you would be late home and told him not to worry, but you totally forgot that it was possible for you to end up working later than him. That is a rare occurrence.

Well then!

You become excited at your findings, but quickly realize they mean that he may be sleeping. Rats... You need to be quiet coming in, then.

A chatter sounds in your skull just as the bar comes into view. It isn’t quite snowing out, but the biting, billowing wind is strong enough to drain most of the heat from you. Your fingers feel numb as they blindly wiggle around in your pocket, looking for your keys even though you’re still a little ways away from the front door. By the time you reach it, you’re putting in a pretty significant amount of effort to minimize your shivering and get it unlocked. It’s situations like these that make you thankful to only have a few separate keys to keep track of on your key ring.

The door itself is pretty new, but still creaks lightly as you push it open. Then, you almost lose your grip on the knob when a particularly strong gust of wind shoves you in through the front door. You stumble forward.

Startled as you are, it doesn’t take you long to recover, close the door firmly behind you, and lock it with a huff. You’re just glad no one is around to have seen your little blunder. Hand still on the door, you sigh out your relief. Grillby would definitely be alerted by the door swinging open and slamming into the wall. He’d be alerted if you face-planted into the hardwood flooring, too.

After taking a moment to smooth yourself out and appreciate the internal temperature of the bar, you glance around the dark room. As you expected, tables and chairs are neat, lights are off, and not a speck of dust can be seen. Sometimes you wonder if Grillby gets off on extreme cleaning. You snicker quietly to yourself.

The rise in temperature is great compared to the freezing nightmare you’d endured outside, but it isn’t anywhere near enough to stop your shivering. So you beeline for the staircase that leads to Grillby’s apartment- or more accurately, your ticket to comfort. It’s a little hard to see, and you nearly trip once on the way up, but the reward you’re met with upon entering is well worth it.

Instantly, you’re flushed with a wave of warmth.

Grillby sits on the couch in the living room that faces the door, knuckle pressed to the side of his mouth and book in hand. Your entrance alerts him, and his head turns up so his eyes can meet yours. They look tired. Yours do too.

He can see you shivering still, and it makes him frown. However, the beginning of a small smile finds its way onto his face when he lifts a hand and waves you over. Both of you know what comes next. You step toward him eagerly.

Without a word spoken between the two of you, he places the thick, old looking novel down on the table in front of him, and opens himself up to you. Rather than sitting next to him like he had expected, you opt for plopping down directly in his lap, arms around his shoulders and legs on either side of him. He lets out a surprised grunt, but it quickly dissolves into a chuckle as his arms find their way around your midsection. You relish in the warmth they offer.

“You’re cold.” He starts.

“You’re warm.” You reply, though it’s muffled by the fabric of his thin shirt. He hears you despite this, and a fiery brow quirks up.

“Aren’t I always?” Grillby asks. You can hear the teasing smile in his voice, but nod against him regardless. Thanks to him, you can feel your shivers mostly subside.

“Yea, but I especially appreciate it when it’s freezing out.” Comes your voice once more. Sighing, you feel his arm begin to rub slowly up and down your back, a soothing, sweeping motion that transfers his heat to you even faster. Suddenly comfortable, you’re reminded of how totally exhausted you are.

“I always tell you to bring a coat.” He tries for a chastising tone, but can’t help that it comes out as soft as it does. His voice is just a mumble now, reaching your ears easily despite its low volume. This is in part because he’s taken the liberty of placing his cheek against your head.

“Heh..Yeah...” You concede, burrowing your face further into him. It’s a long moment before you speak again. “I didn’t think you’d be up. Aren’t you tired?” At this question you look up at him as much as your current position will allow, cheek still smooshed into his shoulder.

His response is low, and doesn’t come immediately, which kind of gives you an answer in itself: Yes.

“Mm... I am..” He confirms your suspicion. A little more quietly, he continues. “But you were still out, and...” The elemental’s head lazily tilts, and the flames constantly spiraling off of it follow the movement. You catch him glance out the window. As if wanting to help illustrate his point, another forceful gust of wind rattles it just slightly.

A little guilt twists your stomach. He always worries, and you should have known he would be waiting. You should’ve fought harder to leave on time. You expect he’s going to finish the thought, but you already know where he’s headed, so you preempt him.

“You didn’t need to wait up for me...” You say softly.

The response you get is hushed, but still quite matter-of-fact.

“I did. I wanted to. ...I like going to bed with you.” His tone is so simple, so casual, so... sweet. He’s just speaking honestly, yet it affects you so much. The guilt you feel morphs into adoration, and the feeling makes you grin. You’re sure he can feel it against him, but duck your head back down anyway.

“OK.” Your voice is muffled once more. But the smile in it is audible. A short, breathy hum escapes him, the sound like a sleepy little laugh.

The two of you stay like that for a few minutes, wrapped up in each other. The calm rise and fall of his chest slows further, and the surrounding blanket of his warmth cradles you softly.

You don’t want to, but you eventually have to turn your face to the side. As comfy as he is, it’s a little hard to breathe that way. This movement seems to take him a bit off guard, and rouses him from a drowsiness he’d almost let get the better of him. You feel and hear the deep breath he sucks in as he shifts, bringing himself back off the brink of sleep. He props himself back up against the couch, holding you still as he does. You let out a large yawn, and gently pat his back.

“OK...Time for bed?” You ask quietly. In his sleep-addled state, he can only nod. Without another word, arms around your middle become hands on your waist, and he lifts you off of him and gently places you on the cushion next to him. Slowly he stands, stretching. His flames crackle and pop with the action, and once he’s satisfied he lets out the breath he’d been holding and turns to you with a bright orange hand extended.

For a moment, you consider asking him to carry you. You’re exhausted! But another look at his slightly lopsided posture and barely open eyes reminds you he’s right there with you. So you make do with just grabbing his hand and using it to help pull yourself up. Once you’re on your feet, you two begin a slow stroll to your shared bedroom, and step inside.

The blinds are drawn, so the only light permeating the darkness you stumble around in to change is Grillby himself. You end up in just your underwear and a big T shirt. Following your lead, he removes his own top and bottoms, leaving himself only in his briefs.

It’s only about 45 seconds after you enter the room that both of you are crashing into bed. You simply let yourself fall face first. He as usual is a little more graceful about things, gently lifting the covers for himself, and helping you work your way under them too. Your tired body sings in relief as you sink into the mattress, your back to the flaming monster beside you.

Unsatisfied with this, you fight the sleep off for a little longer to wiggle a bit. A questioning hum leaves him, and by the sound of it, he’s working pretty hard to stay awake too. You turn under the covers, trying not to muss them too much and he seems to get the idea. Warm hands land on your sides again as he helps you turn toward him, eager to pull you closer.

It’s a little brighter when you face him, but that’s never bothered you. Especially not when you’re this worn out. He sighs happily at this change, and his arms circle tightly around you, a hand finding the back of your head and threading itself through your hair.

His digits comb against your scalp ever so gently, drawing a pleased hum from your closed lips. Not many people know (because how could they? He certainly isn’t going around talking about it), but Grillby is quite a physical being. He had some old hang ups that made it hard for him to embrace that about himself at first, and is polite and accommodating to a fault sometimes, but once you’d made him comfortable enough he gave in to his desire to hold you more often, and hold you closely.

Once again, you thank the fucking stars for that. Especially on nights like these. Gone is any trace of the icy chill that consumed you earlier.

Without missing a beat, you place your own hands on his broad back, now giving him the same treatment you had received earlier. He’s larger than you, as most monsters tend to be, but it doesn’t hinder your efforts to gently rub your arm up and down along his spine, fingers only deftly making contact. The hand not doing this splays out across his shoulder blade, then creeps up to rest on the point where his shoulder meets his neck. It wouldn’t be long now for either of you. Your eyelids close, but he looks down at your calm form for a little longer.

A murmured utterance of your name grips the last inklings of your attention. Your eyes slowly drag themselves open again, and a drowsy, “Hmn..?” escapes you. His voice is almost a whisper when he speaks, leaning down so his mouth is closer to your head.

“I love you...” Grillby breathes out. You smile, and lightly kiss whatever of his skin is closest to your lips. That turns out to be a spot on his chest, right under his collar. There’s a small smooching sound as you pull back.

“...Love you too.” You exhale against him. With the last of his effort, he throws a leg over yours, crooking it to bring you closer still, and fully embrace you.

Those are the last words spoken that night. All that follows is the dull crackling of flames and the soft sound of breathing as you both allow your bodies the rest they’ve been aching for.

#Grillby/Reader #Grillby x Reader #grillby #undertale grillby #undertale #Undertale x reader #Undertale/reader #undertale imagines #imagine undertale #Reader-insert #Yaaaayyy I had fun with this one woohoo #First suggestion!#Thank you!!!#hehehehehe

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tommyparkerr · 5 years

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Promises Part Two | Peter Parker x Reader

Sorry guys! I meant to update a bit earlier, but this past week has been crazy! Either way, I hope you enjoy Part Two! And once again, a big thank you to Soph for her help!:)

Note: I tried to space the paragraphs out some more for all you mobile users that got the new update (including me) so it’d make it easier to read. Let me know if it’s better or worse? I went back and did it to Part One as well.

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: Angst, crying :)

-Masterlist-

P A R T T W O :

Things between you and Peter had never been more tense. You hated it.

You never did talk the next morning, nor the morning after that, nor the morning after that, nor the morning after that...

Peter was temporarily staying at Avengers Tower while you claimed stake to the apartment. Even though the walls weren’t exactly soundproof here and the New York City traffic consistently found its way in through the windows, it was too quiet—too dead. Usually Peter would be cooking or doing the laundry or washing the dishes, soft music playing in the background as he finished up and asked you to dance. The curtains would be drawn back, allowing the sun to light your apartment rather than the electricity. It would be comfortably warm, the natural breeze doing your air conditioner’s job. And Peter would be humming along, both of your faces adorning laughter and bright smiles that resulted from Peter playfully dipping you.

Instead your apartment was dark, dreary, and miserably cold. Though, the temperature could very well be because you were so used to Peter’s warmth that going without it now added an extra chill to the place. It didn’t feel right being there—living there—without him. But it also didn’t feel right to ask him to come home with so many things left unsaid. You were afraid asking him home would only make the both of you more miserable, and you didn’t want to make things worse than they already were.

Which was why you’d asked to meet him in a neutral location. A café—one you’d never been to in your life and that was bound to have no memories attached to it that would make this harder than it had to be.

You’d tried your best to look presentable, but making sure to eat and drink had been about the only things you had enough energy for lately. It was funny how heartbreak exhausted you, made you numb enough to forget the basics. But you had remembered to take a shower and brush your teeth this morning, and that was a victory in itself.

The brown liquid in front of you gently swirled, the scent wafting up and into your nostrils making your stomach turn. You didn’t know why you ordered coffee. You hated coffee.

But perhaps you’d forgotten that as well.

“Hey.”

Your eyes snapped up, seeing your husband for the first time in days. He didn’t look much better off than you. His normal sparkling brown eyes were now dull, the bags underneath making them look even more pitiful. His hands were shaking—just slightly, but you were trained to notice the small things, such as the lack of color to his skin and the chap of his lips. He looked like he’d lost weight as well; he’d probably forgotten to eat, or, at the very least, eat what his body required of him.

“Hey,” you said with a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. Peter eyed your drink.

“Is that...coffee?”

You fought the urge to blush. “I, uh, thought I’d try it again. Just in case my taste buds changed, you know.” His questioning look prompted you to go on. “They didn’t. I hate coffee.”

Peter smiled a small smile. It looked sad—like he knew you were lying but wasn’t going to point it out. “I know,” he settled on saying, making your heart ache. Of course he knew. He knew everything about you. “I’ll go get you some tea,” he eventually murmured, breaking the silence.

“You don’t have to-“

But he was already gone, traversing to the back of the line where only a few people waited in front of him. You sighed, fighting back tears. Is that how it was going to be now? Was this what your relationship had come to? After all these years?

The rational part of you reminded you that you had yet to talk anything out, that that was what this meeting was for, that you still had ice to break before you could start treading the freezing waters below. But there was a larger part of you that drowned that rationality out with the fears that plagued you every night and day.

“Here,” Peter said, sliding a hot cup of tea and blueberry scone in front of you. Your eyes pricked with tears at the scone; of course he got you your favorite. He was too good not to.

Peter took your coffee from you and drank slow sips from it. It was obvious he was waiting on you, but he didn’t push you to say anything. When you spoke it’d be on your own accord.

You began to nibble at the scone, not feeling very hungry but knowing you needed to eat regardless. You offered a piece to Peter who looked hesitant, then recognized it was a peace offering of sorts and took it.

The silence droned on, and you knew he expected you to be the one to start up conversation, but you couldn’t bring your mouth to open. You weren’t ready to dig out the demons yet, to bring them to light. You didn’t want him to know how much his actions had affected you, even though it was plainly visible in your appearance. There were times late at night when you wondered if you were overreacting, but then you’d remember just how badly he’d hurt you and knew you were doing what was right for you. This hurt, yes, but there were only so many things you could sweep under the rug. And, besides, this wasn’t permanent—this was only temporary.

At least, you hoped.

Your hands shook. You tried to cover it up by taking a sip of tea but your plan backfired when the liquid sloshed over the side, spilling onto your fingers. You hissed at the burn catching Peter’s attention, and he immediately grabbed a napkin to give to you. His eyes were wide with concern, making yours water up.

“Y/N-“

“I’m fine,” you insisted, though the crack in your voice said otherwise. You looked down and dabbed at the scalding tea on your skin, biting your lip at the sting it left behind. Tears started to fall.

“Let me look at it,” Peter pleaded, staring at the abnormal redness on your fingers. Without waiting for a response he pulled your hand across the table and turned it over, carefully tracing the splotches of red. “Does it hurt?”

At your silence he looked up, finally seeing your tears. Concern quickly turned into panic.

“Yes,” you choked out, and from the look on Peter’s face you knew that he was aware you weren’t talking about your fingers. “It hurts so bad and I don’t know how to fix it,” you quietly cried. “I don’t- I can’t-“

“Hey, hey, hey,” Peter said calmly, expertly sliding out of his side of the booth and into yours. His arms wrapped around you, bringing your head to rest on his shoulder. You slid your hands under his jacket and around his waist, letting your tears soak his shirt. He swallowed, probably just as prepared to cry as you but not allowing his tears to fall; one of you had to keep it together for the sake of the other, and you were extremely grateful Peter was volunteering to take that role on this morning. “We’ll fix it, Y/N. I promise we’ll fix this.”

“How?” you croaked, your voice muffled by his clothes.

“Together,” he said confidently. “We’ll do this together, just like we always do.”

You sniffled, hugging him tighter. He responded, pulling you close enough to feel the warmth you’d been longing for. “You promise?”

“I promise,” he whispered, planting a kiss on the top of your head. “I promise.”

---

Coffee had become a part of your daily routine now. Only part of a cup, but it was still there nonetheless. It seemed to be the only thing that woke you up enough to make it through the day. Energy drinks you supposed could work too but they had always had negative effects on you, and you knew that now would be a worse time than ever to try them again. And while you still hated coffee, you didn’t hate the extra boost of caffeine it gave you.

Nightmares had been plaguing your dreams, waking you at least once a night if not more. You so badly wanted to call into work sick, but you’d just taken a week off for vacation and knew you couldn’t miss again so soon—not unless you didn’t want to keep your job. So coffee had been the only solution, the caffeine intake in tea not being enough to keep you from sleepwalking through the day.

You wondered what Peter would say about your new obsession if he knew. He probably wouldn’t say anything much—maybe a playful comment or two. He’d most likely just smirk at you from his own cup of coffee, his eyes alight with mischief. But he’d brew an extra cup each morning anyways, making sure it was ready by the time you walked into the kitchen, hair still frizzy from sleep and T-shirt hanging lazily off your shoulder. He’d tell you good morning and greet you with a kiss to the forehead, handing you your cup only after you responded with an unhappy but grateful ‘good morning’ as well.

You stopped yourself there, shaking your head to rid the image. Because the truth was that if Peter was here, actually here, then you wouldn’t be drinking coffee at all. If he was here he’d be there to hold you through the nightmares that somehow made themselves less frequent when he was around. If he was here he’d ensure you were both in bed by nine o’clock on nights neither of you were working, knowing you required extra sleep. Sometimes if you were both wide awake you’d talk about nothing and everything until eventually your voices faded and all that was left was your gentle breathing. If he was here.

But he wasn’t. He was on the other side of the city in a room tens of floors higher than yours, surrounded by handfuls of people yet feeling just as alone as you were.

No, Peter wasn’t here. But his memory was everywhere, leaving you to wonder if this was what it’d be like if his absence turned permanent instead of temporary—that instead of being just a few miles away, he’d be in a place that even the mightiest of superheroes couldn’t reach.

You prayed you’d never find out.

---

“Peter!” you cried out as you snapped awake, your hand immediately flying to the other side of the bed in search of the curly haired arachnid. You caught yourself a moment later, snatching back your hand as if the empty sheets had burned you.

Nine days.

Nine days you’d woken from a nightmare and subconsciously looked for your husband. Nine days you’d searched for Peter in the middle of the night only to remember moments later that he wasn’t there. Nine days it’d shattered your heart. Nine days it hurt just as badly as the one before. Nine days it’d been since you’d gotten a full night’s rest.

Not bothering to try to hold back the tears, you got up out of bed and threw on one of Peter’s hoodies to keep you company. However, even that didn’t seem to help anymore; his scent was growing fainter by the day and it was so diluted now that it no longer comforted you when you slipped it on. But you still put it on each night in the hopes that something would change, much like how your hand reached to the other side of the bed after every nightmare and found nothing, yet continued to do it anyway.

You numbly traipsed into the kitchen, starting up the kettle and robotically preparing the cup of tea you’d had to make yourself each night since...well, since Peter had been gone.

Nine days.

You leaned over the counter and placed your head in your hands, letting a rack of sobs escape you. You didn’t know how much longer you could take this, but you were afraid that once you sat down and attempted to work things out Peter would leave you forever, and you’d much prefer be in the place you were now in your relationship rather than not in one at all.

“Y/N?” a soft, tired voice croaked, sounding as if it hadn’t been used in days. Either that, or used too much.

Your cries came to a stop but you didn’t move an inch. Neither of you spoke for awhile, not even when the kettle started whistling. Eventually you straightened up and turned the burner off, listening as the high-pitched squeal slowly became less and less obnoxious until it had disappeared completely.

“Would you like a cup?” you quietly asked, your voice raw from the many tears you’ve shed.

“What is it?” Peter hesitantly questioned.

“Tea—chamomile.”

“Yes, please.”

So you grabbed two cups instead of one, calmly choosing to ignore the elephant in the room as you poured a generous amount of steaming water in each. From there you put the tea bags in, watching them as they steeped.

“Y/N-“

“Not now, Pete,” you interrupted tiredly, knowing where his mouth was going to take him next. “Please not now.”

He kept quiet.

When the tea was finally done you picked up the cups and carefully handed one to Peter before going to the dining room table and plopping yourself down on a chair. He followed, sitting in the spot next to you. You quietly busied yourselves with your tea until there was none left, cueing the inevitable conversation.

You cleared your throat. “How did you get in?”

“I still have a key,” Peter answered, sounding slightly hurt but not surprised. “I guess I assumed I could still use it.”

“You can,” you quickly responded, realizing that that had sounded like a much better question in your head. Way to break the ice, Y/N. “I mean, just because you aren’t currently living here doesn’t mean it’s not still your home.”

You looked up for the first time, seeing Peter silently nod as he stared down at his empty tea cup, lost. Your heart fissured at the sight of his red-rimmed eyes—he’d been crying, too.

Before you could think about it your hand was on top of Peter’s, your thumb slowly running across his knuckles in what could only be described as an attempt at comfort. It was so difficult to see him like this—so vulnerable and beaten down—and right at that very moment you decided you no longer cared about ‘breaking the ice’.

“Why did you come here, Peter?” you whispered past the lump in your throat.

His lip wobbled. “I-I can’t close my eyes without dreaming bad things. It’s making me go insane. You’re the only one that helps, but you’re not there. You’re never there, and I know why you can’t be, but I can’t take being alone anymore and I just—I just—” He paused, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks. Finally looking up at you, his eyes equally pleading and hopeful and afraid, he confessed, “I just need you.”

After that his shoulders began to shake and his eyes squeezed shut, obviously not wanting to see the rejection in your face. But, if only he looked, he’d see that there was nothing but pain and longing and understanding there.

You flew up out of your chair and stood in front of Peter, bringing his head to rest on your stomach as your hands rubbed his back and ran through his tangled curls. He wrapped his arms around you tight, bringing you closer to him as he cried.

“I miss you,” he sobbed, his voice muffled by your clothing yet completely clear to you.

You held back your own tears now. Peter had already taken his turn being the strong one; it was time for you to return the favor. “We’ll fix this,” you said much more confidently than you felt. “Just like you said, Pete.”

He spent another few minutes holding you close as he soaked your shirt—well, technically it was his shirt—with his tears. He said something again, this time so muffled that you couldn’t hear him at all.

“You’re gonna have to speak up a bit, baby,” you said soothingly, realizing your term of endearment too late.

But Peter didn’t bring it up. He simply moved his head just enough to free his mouth and repeated in a quiet, careful tone, “You promise?”

Your heart thumped extra hard then skipped a couple beats as you answered without hesitation. “I promise.”

He started to calm down after that, his sniffles being the only sound in the sad, sad apartment. You leaned down to kiss his forehead, brushing back his hair as you did so.

“Do you get them too?” Peter whispered in the silence.

“Get what?” you asked, though you had a good idea of what he was referring to.

“Nightmares?”

You swallowed, pushing down the temptation to lie. Nightmares were for children, not adults like you. Yet here you were ten years later, having the worst nightmares you’d had in your entire life: nightmares about Peter dying, nightmares about Peter leaving, nightmares about Peter telling you this was all your fault, nightmares about Peter finding someone better to take your place, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

“Every night,” you breathed.

Peter’s breath caught as he pulled away from your embrace and looked you in the eye. “They’re never as bad when I’m with you,” he said plainly—obviously.

“And mine are never as bad when you’re with me,” you admitted. You both seemed to come to the same conclusion in that moment. “Let’s go to bed, yeah?” you spoke up quietly, and you could practically see the relief flashing through Peter’s eyes.

He nodded, taking your hand and walking with you back to the bedroom. Neither of you spoke as you crawled into bed and snuggled close to one another, soaking up the warmth you’d been so desperately craving. Peter wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest, holding you as tight as he possibly could without breaking you. You dipped your head into the crook of his neck and placed a hand over his heart, allowing your mind to finally take a break at the feel of its steady beating.

“I still love you more than anything,” you murmured, feeling as if it needed to be said.

“And I swear I still love you more,” Peter responded with a kiss to your head, making you smile for the first time in a long time.

You allowed some hope to come back now. The hope that maybe not all was lost—that this relationship could still be salvaged. And the hope that, more than anything, you’d be able to forge something better out of it.

You promise?

Peter’s eyes fluttered shut and his breaths were evening out, his heart rate slowing with them. Your eyes closed too, your heart beating to match Peter’s.

I promise.

Promises Tag List: @mintaeroandmerlin @thehollandfam @trumpettay @ganggangganggg @secretagentben @rayanismybae* @yellowkenyon97 @casuallytumblingdownthestairs

Permanent Tag List: @lemirabitur @my-meant-to-find-blog @jongindeepbreath @tomspideyweb @farfromjustordinary @tomsstarlight @delicately-written @catstielanddeanthedog @tom-holland-and-textposts @spiderman-n @wtfholland @hollandandi @starsholland @celestialparker @beautiful-holland @spideycentral-1 @laurfangirl424 @yoinksholland @casuallytumblingdownthestairs @smexylemony @antifaspiderman @trashqueenbitch @fireboltrose7559 @propertyofmarvel @perhaps-he-schnapped @ofserien

Let me know if you want to be added! 💕

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker au #peter parker angst #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fandom #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman x y/n #spiderman au #spiderman angst #spiderman imagine #spiderman fanfiction #promises

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yoi-secret-valentines2017 · 7 years

Text

Gestures: A Yuri!!! on Ice Secret Valentines Gift

This is for @bitterabsence

Gestures “Sometimes, it’s the simple gestures that give the most feelings.”

Mornings

The sun is already shining them; the birds are chirping from the frosted branches they’re perched on, and the temperature St. Petersburg is sporting that day is cold. Not the freezer kind, just the right kind of cold.

On days like these, our favorite skating couple just decides to lie on their shared bed, cuddle, and talk until one of them hears a growling sound or a bark from somewhere around the apartment. Victor usually wakes up first. Being the love sick man he is; he just stares lovingly at the sleeping beauty by his side, then he would ponder on how lucky he is to be the object of this man’s unconditional affections Overcome with the butterflies in his stomach, he finally grins shamelessly at himself. The silver head would just keep on staring until the Japanese skater wakes up from his good night’s sleep then greet Victor in slurry Japanese.

“Ohaio, Vitya…” Yuuri slurs then pecks the Russian on the nose. Not satisfied with his display of emotion, Yuuri would cuddle at the crook of Victor’s neck and then murmur more good mornings and an “I love you” in Russian.

On days like these, Victor and Yuuri would just stay in bed with Victor reminding himself of how lucky he is to have met this amazing human being.

Brunch

Victor Nikiforov is well known as the 5-time gold medalist and living legend of the figure skating world. He could even beat a top notch skater’s personal best without even breaking a sweat. This is what Yuuri thought of the first time after seeing Victor when he was a mere fan (well, obsessed, infatuated fan that is), but now Victor to Yuuri is a very normal person, in a good way of course. There is one particular title that he feels so amused about, and that is Victor Nikiforov, The Kitchen Wrecker.

Whenever Victor will try to cook—just a simple meal—he would either turn it into coal or injure himself. Thankfully, the injury part doesn’t happen that much. The coal part though, it’s very frequent, and the black pans are a witness to it. Poor pans

On this particular lazy day, Yuuri wakes up for a second time that morning and realizes he’s alone. The spot where his fiancé was supposed to be has already gotten cold and neat. He vaguely remembers snoozing on Victor’s chest, and smiled at the thought.

He sits up, but is tackled back onto the sheets by Makkachin.

“Makkachin! That tickles!” he laughs and ruffles the fur of the poodle. Once Makkachin was satisfied with his morning love, Yuuri goes out of the bedroom and smells a certain scent followed by a certain sizzle of food on an oiled pan.

He peeks out of the hall and the scent becomes stronger and more concentrated. His suspicions are confirmed when he saw his fiancé happily chopping bell peppers and swaying to some classical tune. It wasn’t the little dance that made him smile though.

Yuuri leaned at the kitchen’s door frame and beamed fondly at the heart-shaped potatoes on the napkins. On this particular lazy day—and some days other lazy days—Victor goes back to being the genius Yuuri has idolized and the beautiful man he has fallen for. To sum this morning up, whenever Victor is too much in love, he doesn’t realize that his potatoes and anything he chops become heart-shaped and that he could cook a gourmet meal in less than thirty minutes. Well, nonetheless, Yuuri still and will love Victor, Kitchen Wrecker, living legend, and everything in between.

Afternoon

Regardless of how late they wake up, a day does not pass without at least two hours of practice. With the Nationals coming, Yuuri, especially Victor, has to make use of their remaining days to practice. So, right after their brunch, they head out to the practice rink.

Victor knows that Yakov will have his head for being extremely late without a valid reason. But with the beautiful morning he just had, no one can turn his smile upside down. Except Yakov did the exact thing.

The moment the couple steps on the building, the older man makes Victor run around the rink area, repeat his ballet stretches in front of Lilia Baranovskaya (which led Victor to admire his junior more. Gad. How did Yurio survive eight months with this woman), and repeat his short AND free program from the previous GPF five times with only a minute break for each exercise.

When Victor is finally off of Yakov’s angry reins, he sits on the bench near the ice and took a break, a long one at that. His mind drifts somewhere, but his eyes wander to the figure on the far side of the ice and noticed it was Yuuri.

Yuuri is practicing his free skate with Lady Lilia by the barrier barking some instructions and pointers. He looks so beautiful and mesmerizing. Victor suddenly remembers Yuuri’s record breaking performance and his small smile became a full on grin that beams all the love he feels. He is too much into reminiscing that he didn’t notice Yuuri moving out of his sight and didn’t hear Yurio calling his name. Yurio had to yell at the silver-head to get his attention

“Oi Victor,” Yurio calls softly now, “Yakov’s calling you.” The teen’s absence of his usual angst-y remarks are a sign that what Yakov was about to tell him was important.

Victor scans the premises and spots Yakov talking to Lilia on the same place Yuri was performing earlier. He chooses to cut through the rink to get there faster. He skated past Mila doing stretches and Yurio trying to imitate Mila, and Georgi tearing up with his ear buds on. Must be his new program, Victor thinks to himself.

Once he reached his coach, he expects to be scolded and forced to do some routine for n times, but thankfully he is wrong. Yakov just fills him in with the details of Yuuri’s performance and anything he needs to know about his student/fiancé. Yuuri may be Victor’s protégé, but Yakov and Lillia unofficially take over whenever Victor is busy practicing his own routines. Plus, the “dad’ of the Russian team and the prima ballerina seem to be enjoying a very accepting and obedient student, unlike the ones they really had to coach. Bless Yuuri for moving to St. Petersburg.

Victor’s mind drifts off again when Yakov reaches the technical parts technical parts of his fiancé’s performance. He is brought back to reality when a hand brushes by his arm then the pinky of the other hand hooked itself around Victor’s pinky, forming a loose pinky promise. His heart skips a beat as Yuuri skates past them and gave Victor the warmest of brightest of smiles that makes his eyes look closed and the curve of his smile almost reached his ears. Victor’s chest and stomach are instantly filled with warmth and butterflies at that certain smile. It was Victor’s proof that he didn’t make the wrong decision of inviting Yuuri to live with him here in Russia. Regardless of how tired Victor is at the moment or if his own coach is already reprimanding him for not listening, that particular smile of Yuuri’s will cure his sore muscles and lift his spirits up ten-fold.

Dusk

After numerous hours of practice, Yuri is finally dismissed. Who know Victor would reflect the hell he himself experienced with Yakov. Thankfully his fiancé was also drained, so they don’t have to extend their practice time, plus he sire misses Makkachin already

The golds, oranges, and blue hues of the sky mixed together to form a standard gradient. The darker shades of oranges and are under the blue then slowly dissoves into a ighter blue. . It actually looked like the king of the day and night realm kissed each other. The ocean perfect makes a very nice oil painting rendition of the beautiful scene.in front of him. Anyone passing the bridge wouldn’t be able to move forward unless they admire or take mystic messenger.

That is exactly what Yuuri does. He stops right in the middle of his tracks—which caused Victor to so the same and Worry—and just drank the beauty of the sunset. When Victor spoke up, tears suddenly forms in his tear ducts

“Yuuri, darling. Is there any problem?” Victor asks, worry is evident in his tone.

Yuuri feels something drops off of his chin then realizes he was already crying. Victor’s face scrunches up more when tears fell stronger. He manages to smile out of his overwhelming happiness and takes a step back to get a better view of the scenery.

Victor’s face is dark against the light of the sunset, but it does not stop him from seeing his disheveled hair and striking blue eyes filled with worry. Yuuri assures his beloved that he’s more than fine by reaching up and caresses his cheek.

“Don’t worry, Victor. I’m fine. Just overwhelmed with happiness I guess,” Yuuri assured him. Victor’s expression instantly changes then caresses both Yuuri’s cheek and pecks him on the lips.

“I’m glad you feel that way, but c’mon. Makkachin’s waiting for us. Let’s hurry home. I’m tired too. Yakov practically beat me up with how many times I had to repeat my routine,” Victor smiled then pulls Yuuri to the direction of their apartment.

“You go ahead. I want to see the sun set. It looks more beautiful today.“

Victor just smiles at what Yuuri says and pulls him to one of the railings and brought his phone out.

“How about this. Let’s take a picture and then capture the sunset on time lapse. This way, we could watch the sunset when we feel like it. Hmm?”

Victor always makes a way to make accompany and support Yuuri no matter how outrageous or boring it would be. Yuuri knows that Victor will save any sunset time lapse clip when they get home just to make please him further. That exact same dorkiness is one of the qualities that made him fall for Victor.

Evening

Once they reached the apartment, Victor flops on their living room sofa and pulls out his cellphone to save some sunset pictures and video clips. Yuuri, on the hand, starts to prepare their dinner–katsudon.

Only after fifteen minutes, Victor filled his Youtube account with offline videos of sunsets ans sunrises. He plans to show them to Yuuri, but stopped halfway when he heard melodic singing coming from the kitchen. He peeps, head first then confirms that it was indeed his fiance, but what intrigues him is the song choice. It wasn’t the usual songs he usually plays on their speakers. Sure, his taste varies, but this particular one has the most sentimental value on his beloved’s voice.

“~~There'l be no more darkness when you believe in yourself. You are unstoppable~~”

Victor didn’t notice that he had his cellphone on record and after a minute, it instantly posts the video of Yuuri singing. But when he finally does, he does this squawk and barges into the kitchen to show Yuuri the video he accidentally posted.

Being the understanding person Yuuri Katsuki is, he first scolds his fiance about eavesdropping and surprises, especially when I’m holding a knife. God Victor. I might kill you. Victor, being the man child between them, apologizes by throwing himself on the smaller man (Note: The knife has been put down.) and rubs his face all over his chest.

Once they reach their apartment, Yuuri will have some sort of personality shift from the shy, yet skilled, skater to the doting and nagging mom, and honestly Victor doesn’t care. He just wants Yuuri. Everything he has and has to offer. He is, afterall, the one who never ceases to amaze Victor.

Extra: Valentine’s Day

Simple gestures and statements of love thrive every single day for the two skaters, but on one day each year, both of them go a little bit extra. In Victor’s case, more extra than he already is. Here’s the thing though, neither Yuuri’s nor Victor’s plan pushed through. Yuuri wasn’t able to finish the knitting project he started months ago, and Victor wasn’t able to cook a very gourmet version of katsudon. The meat became as hard and as dark as coal. So none of them have something very special to give. They’ll just stay home too for Valentine’s.

So, six in the evening, Victor and Yuri and Makkachin are in the living room, watching their past performances and some the videos Victor saved. Their dinner was Chinese take-out because none of them aren’t in the mood to cook anyway. Plus, Chinese things already have some sort of sentimental value thanks to what happened to the Cup of China. From the start, they may have cooked a Chinese dish of order from outside.

They were happily bundled in a blanket when the Aria of Stay Close to Me played. Victor’s version goes on screen first then Yuuri’s is next.

When the first few notes played, Victor stood from his cozy spot and started dancing his routine. The clip finished and Yuuri knows exactly Victor was planning. So, Yuuri stood up and danced beside Victor when the Duetto plays.

Since they aren’t on the ice, the dance became some sort of a slow dance. Yuuri caresses Victor’s face gently. Victor dipping Yuuri slowly. Then for their last pose, Victor kissed Yuuri sweetly and greeted, “Happībarentaindē, ai.“

Yuuri beamed and kissed Victor again and also said, ”Dnem Svyatogo Valentina “, Lyubov’.“

Simple gestures are more than enough on any given occasion, It usually gives the most raw of emotions.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

This fanfiction is for bitterabsence. This is my first time writing a fanfiction and joining a secret something event. I enjoyed writing this, so I hope you’ enjoy reading it. ^___^

may ven on

Yuuri beamed, T Yhis is for bitterabsence

Gestures “Sometimes, it’s the simple gestures that give the most feelings.”

Mornings

On days like these, Victor and Yuuri would just stay in bed with Victor reminding himself of how lucky he is to have met this amazing human being.

Brunch

He sits up, but is tackled back onto the sheets by Makkachin.

"Makkachin! That tickles!” he laughs and ruffles the fur of the poodle. Once Makkachin was satisfied with his morning love, Yuuri goes out of the bedroom and smells a certain scent followed by a certain sizzle of food on an oiled pan.

Afternoon

“Oi Victor,” Yurio calls softly now, “Yakov’s calling you.” The teen’s absence of his usual angst-y remarks are a sign that what Yakov was about to tell him was important.

Dusk

“Yuuri, darling. Is there any problem?” Victor asks, worry is evident in his tone.

“You go ahead. I want to see the sun set. It looks more beautiful today.“

Victor just smiles at what Yuuri says and pulls him to one of the railings and brought his phone out.

“How about this. Let’s take a picture and then capture the sunset on time lapse. This way, we could watch the sunset when we feel like it. Hmm?”

#yoi secret valentines #yuuri katsuki #viktor nikiforov #writing #submission

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inkstainedhan · 7 years

Text

the other party: identity

some musings on who they are, as written by sonja ilsyth

Notes on my companions:

Taenion Naralthar is a snow elf of 147 years old. Snow elves are a rare variant on the elves most are familiar with, found in the northern reaches of Istralar. Taenion’s tribe, though he’s said little of them, seem to be located in the northern reaches of Iskaldhal. He apparently left his tribe shortly before he reached adulthood to function as a link to the outside world, but he’s always been vague on the specifics of his true purpose. He’s an expert with natural magic, particularly that related to ice and water, and prefers to stay out of close combat if possible. He and Tyrik have a particularly close bond due to their longer partnership - both were also members of a previous adventuring party that fell apart after the deaths of all members but them. Bringing this up to Taenion is a fantastically horrendous idea. Taenion also seems to have an incident in his past involving the drow, as mentioning the historical enemies of his kin is one of the fastest ways to infuriate him. Personality-wise, Tae is wise and logical, with practiced dexterity and an intelligence beyond his years. He acts somewhat like a mother stereotypically does, restraining us from doing anything too ridiculous. He loves warm and mildly spicy food and drink, but detests anything too hot, and describes cold food as ‘bearable, but not pleasant’. He’s fine with nearly any level of cold, but becomes uncomfortable in the warmth, a fact Esran likes to play with. He likes to wear full-length robes not unlike those of a wizard, which often causes him to be accused of wizardry - he shows hints of mischeviousness when he transforms into a bird (or similar) to prove that he is, in fact, a druid. He seems to enjoy being alone, and will often wander away from the group if he’s certain that we’ll be fine. Tyrik has threatened to put a monitoring collar on him. This is likely a good idea.

Tyrik Reiduln is a stout dwarf of 68 years old, hailing from the central region of Iskaldhal. Iskaldhan mythology, and indeed most Dwarven myth, claims that this region is where the dwarves first broke free of the earth, marking those from near the crater as the oldest families and tribes of all dwarvenkind. Like Taenion, Tyrik is rather vague when talking about his home. He instead likes to ramble on about differences in crafting styles, the power of Torag, exact specifications of metals and similar minutae. As mentioned, he was previously a member of another adventuring party - he was the one to tell us of them, and let us know about their untimely deaths. He and Taenion are similarly wise, but Tyrik is far more built around strength than dexterity, and he’s less focused on book-smarts. If Taenion is the group’s mother, he’s the group’s father, preferring to teach and chastise after the fact, stepping in when necessary and restraining Tae when the elf is being too restrictive. He loves any kind of alcohol and welcomes warm, spicy meals, showing a characteristic distaste for anything too leafy. He seems to be happy at any temperature, and feels more at home when beneath the surface, but dislikes being at sea, as there’s no connection to the earth. He tends to wear full suits of armour, or at least proper clerical robes and medium plate, wielding axes or hammers as suits the occasion. As one of Torag’s faithful, he can always be found with a holy symbol of some sort, and his clothing tends to be at least trimmed in Torag’s colours. His favourite haunts are pubs and bars, and he delights in taking Esran and Kesia out for drinking nights. For reasons unknown, he despises small dogs. Esran insists that this is proof that Tyrik, and by extension all dwarves, are goblins in disguise.

Kesia Raahiri is a 21 year old suli woman, originally from the western reaches of Takawaoku. Her culture dictates that all young adults must prove themselves to be worthy of continuing on the tribe, and with her genie heritage awakening, she left home to find glorious wealth and power to bring back one day, and found herself loving the adventurer lifestyle so much that she now just sends gemstones and trophies back occasionally. Her hometown is apparently a small place, a little human settlement that regularly trades with the nearby gnomish towns. When her heritage first emerged, it was these gnomes that helped her family realise what was happening, as they’d kept far better records. Her mother was the one to teach her how to fight, and she makes a habit of yelling battlecries taught to her by said mother in the larger fights. And in the smaller ones, and when we’re on stealthy missions. I have silenced her in the past for this. She’s very strong and decently charismatic, but seriously lacks both smarts and common sense. Particularly the former. She loves overspiced food and drink, alcohol in general, anything meaty and anything similar to what she remembers from her youth - in addition to a general love for food. As our group’s main fighter, she’s usually in full armour with a weapon at the ready - which is, most of the time, a longsword, but she does like to switch on occasion. She and Esran are quite close, with the two having a near sibling relationship thanks to their outsider blood. I also consider her to be a close friend. Kesia likes, above all things, being able to take down her enemies in an impressive manner, whether that manner be humiliation, attacks, or simply drinking them under the table, and she boasts an impressively high fortitude for drinking to prove that last point. She detests having to be overly ‘girly’, citing it as something she’s never had to do, and protested wearing a ballgown for two solid weeks before I was able to convince her otherwise. Overall, she has a fairly sunny disposition unless you anger her or hurt one of her friends, at which point she’ll grow nearly as angry as a raging barbarian.

Esran, no last name given, is a 72 year old ifrit who has fully embraced his fiery nature, quite literally. He’s a sorcerer whose bloodline truly stems from his outsider background and he has no qualms about proving that, throwing flame about as easily as Tyrik might throw a snowball. His past, however, is shrouded in mystery - about all he’s let slip is that he spent most of his childhood in the Sunari Wilderness. His skin bears a myriad of faint scars that seem to hint at a rough past, but this isn’t surprising - the Wilderness has never been known for its lawful nature, and Esran seems to enjoy provoking anyone he can’t get to sleep with him into a fight. His charisma is on par with mine, and as such, we’re a deadly force when combined. He also manages to move with artful grace and dexterity - something honed, allegedly, by his sexual prowess. Unsurprisingly, he’s not the most perceptive of individuals, but can still pull some gems of knowledge when needed. As a mage, he focuses on a mixture of damage-dealing and controlling the battlefield, working with Taenion (and myself, of course) to ensnare our foes in plantlife that then bursts into flame, creating easy targets for Tyrik and Kesia. The battlefield is one of the only places we ever see him taking things seriously, however - he’s usually very happy-go-lucky, and he likes to amuse himself by goading Tyrik and Kesia into drinking contests, or by playing various games with us, one of his favourites being Truth or Dare. He’s effectively our group’s troublemaker. He’s another fan of spices, also loving dry food, teas, and coffee. He’s actually surprisingly good at cooking, which is a shame as Taenion refuses to touch half of what he makes (and the remaining half is only after myself and Tyrik have both tried and given the thumbs up to Esran’s latest creation) due to his strange cuisines. Esran’s usually clothed in the most revealing outfits he can manage without coming off as a stripper, which tends to involve robes ‘accidentally’ left untied, or unbuttoned shirts. He likes to leave his hair slicked back, but it’s naturally fairly spiky and tries to mimic flames, flicks of actual flame included. Of our group, he’s the most outwardly bizarre looking. He calls it a blessing, as it means ‘the ladies are always curious!’, but.. well, it’s drawn enough attention that it could quite easily be a curse, too.

Finally, myself. Sonja Ilsyth, 19 years old, native of Valathe. I’m from the south-western area of the Empire, specifically a small coastal town. I enjoyed a comfortable life as the only daughter of my home’s mayor until a freak tidal wave struck whilst I was studying elsewhere, rendering me homeless. My powers of enchantment grew quickly after that, and I used them to find shelter, housing and friendships as I developed my skills and eventually left to adventure. Taenion insists that my powers are unnatural, and that I should keep quiet about them, so I usually pass myself off as a bard or sorceress. As previously mentioned, I’m extremely charismatic, and thus this usually goes well. Compared to the party, I’m another dextrous and intelligent member, though I like to be closer to the action. I focus on manipulation, interrogation, hidden strikes and subterfuge over Kesia’s style of loud frontal attacks, and it’s gotten me far. My tastes are far milder than my companions’, but I’ll try whatever��s given to me so long as at least one other sane person has vouched for it. I tend to wear tasteful robes and light armouring underneath - the mixture of beauty with defence is one that’s worked for a long time. Just as Tyrik never is seen without his Torag symbol, I also bear an amulet few see me without - a simple silver amulet that I’ve had enchanted with a few protections. It was given to me by a dear friend long before I met my current friends, and has rested around my neck ever since. Just as Esran enjoys his games of seduction, so do I, though mine often end in frustration for my object of affection as I rarely feel like carrying out my teasing to the end. He and I aren’t together - Tyrik and Taenion are the only two vaguely in a couple, and even then, it’s unclear - but we’ve spent many a night in each other’s company, occasionally involving Kesia as well. Our mix of fire seems to match well.

#hanpost #taenion #kesia #tyrik #esran #sonja #taenion naralthar #kesia raahiri #tyrik reiduln #sonja ilsyth #esran likes to be Mysterious and also slutty #there are a surprising amount of threesomes #sonja keeps notes on her friends #The Other Party

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