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voidcat · 4 years ago

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– rushed whispers

wc: 1.3k + 0.4k ; warnings: (implied) smut, so,, suggestive at best ig

a/n: ik thats not what the anon wanted w I Bet On Losing Dogs but it was nice to put it on repeat while writing this.

It begins like a faint melody, soft and gentle.

A tone of sadness always lingers, a possibility of what could’ve been and the ‘what-if’s; though it never leaves a bad taste, just… distinct.

Like swaying to an old tune, his breath dances on your skin, your hands fumbling with his vest.

Little words spoken, sounds filling the air, the specifics always blur by the time you cut to the chase. The locations do not matter, neither is picky. It’s spontaneous, exciting, the risks keep it going and making your chest race with the possibilities.

So little spoken out loud when there is much to be said and discussed.

In its entirety, it’s just the noises that fill the air, fingers working ever so quickly; skins touching, tracing, nails sinking and marking. It’s just his breath fawning over your ear and your lips on his neck, words have long lost their meanings, as always.

A wordless agreement of sorts. It’s never discussed, nor planned. One seeks out the other and you begin tiptoeing around each other again. Almost like a dance in the dark, that’s how it feels, with your eyes barely open but never off each other, relishing in the pleasure, it ends as it begins.

And Dazai, he never takes his eyes off you. Yet there’s so little light, so little spark in them. Hints and traces of various degrees of emotions flow endlessly but they look exactly as you feel in such escapes, like a veil pulled over, no room for a source of light. Sometimes you wonder if he even possesses a heart.

It’s silly, how on one hand your minds hazy and on the other you think such things. He might think of the same things for you, for all you know.

But you never will, and that’s exactly the point.

Dazai is good at many things and keeping this strictly as intended is one of these.

Grab the bolo tie and pull him in, he’ll be latching on to you instantly. Teeth and skin, he is everywhere. It’s rushed, it’s deep, there’ll be marks in the evening and neither ever really cares.

Isn’t this the point? To not care, to not be attached. Simply a business affair on pleasure. What better way to ensure your colleague will be on his top performance than to make sure of it yourself?

No feelings or strings, they say, but none of it was ever discussed since the beginning. How could any of it work if feelings weren’t a part of it? Every time a new surprise, be it rough, gentle, attentive or selfish. You suppose it’d never be what they call “love making” but then again, that’s not what either of you are craving.

Love isn’t needed when you get to feel every other emotion to feel there is.

“Hey, would you come out for a sec?” It’s as easy like this to get you outside. And next your back will be pressed against the cold surface. He’s onto you in an instant, his warmth making up for the cold that’s growing. While he is busy with your neck, your hands start with the practiced routine.

By the time the buttons come undone, he moves on from your neck, impatient as ever. Still, he often holds the back of your neck during these, and he is careful with the pressure he is applying, making sure your head never hits against the wall, tilting your head while considering the angles to your comfort.

Your mind grows foggy, such is the effect of Dazai, and despite it, you cannot stop thinking. Of all the small details, gestures, what goes on and doesn’t, focusing on the pleasure is one but this? It’s another.

And he knows, that your mind is elsewhere – you know it too. Again, shouldn’t that be a part of it? To take each other’s minds off of things?

Even when your attention is rarely on him, he doesn’t say much of it, doesn’t demand your attention or care, biting on your neck and sucking on it afterwards, he moves up again.

It’s a way to escape for him too, doesn’t care how much of yourself you’ll give to him. Though this doesn’t change the fact that he likes it when your focus is solely on him.

So you do, one hand to stroke his neck and soon moving to the nape of it, up and grabbing his hair, pulling at the moments you know he’ll like, deepening his biting, the movement of his body, pressed against yours until the both oh you are molded in the shape of one another.

There is roughness and gentleness when it calls for it, but all in all, there is passion in his actions. Knowing your body and his, watching every move and reaction, drinking in the sounds the two of you make, as nothing else matters in that moment.

Until it shatters and the unspoken agreement is back in action. It’s never spoken of until it happens again. The again always comes sooner than expected. He is impatient as he is passionate.

Playing each other like instruments, you like to hear him moan the most. Pulling his hair to make room for yourself and leaving marks on him. Dazai claims he hates pain but loves to chase after it like hungry.

It is a good agreement, though nonexistent.

All the marks remain to remind of the pleasures of the previous encounters. It comes as a bonus, to wake up in the morning and look in the mirror, seeing marks of red and purple bloom everywhere, every square of your bodies. Satisfactory, although a little scary, showing how much you the other has seen.

No rules to abide, no strings to get caught in, and another thing you realize is that you never kiss.

Lips have touched everywhere but the faces, those remain clean, undisturbed. Maybe neither of you got a taste for masks, maybe you fear the implications of kissing one’s face.

But as clear as the sky and bright as the sun, this is one of the things that always remain unchanged.

Then Dazai kisses you. His teeth tugs at your bottom lip, pulling it down, he must be aiming to make it bleed there, you surmise.

He has kissed every corner of your body but your face and now here he stands, body against yours again, one hand to hold your neck, other to pull you by the waist, tugging on your lip as if he always does this.

No word was ever spoken yet it was always in the open. It should be your earlobe he’s tugging right now, what is he doing?,you think and ask yourself, until you find yourself kissing him back.

As always, it’s these moments of indulgence and pleasure where your mind is running fast. His skin looks barer than ever, he seems vulnerable. With how his bandages have come undone, how he lets you every time, never once hands holding yours in an attempt to stop. Layer upon layer, tightened straps of gauze and fabric to hide away everything underneath, every piece of him; and they come undone like nothing.

It becomes too loud in an instant.

Then again, hasn’t this always been the case? Weren’t all the choices and gestures you made, all the touches and caressing louder than words could ever be? Doing what words could never achieve, setting rules in untouchable air, to surround and entail you, claim your spirit and mind.

Perhaps he just knew you’d never ask the questions he won’t answer, or he simply trusts you, to an extent, as you do him.

It’s loud, with all the mixed noises, actions and hushed whispers – his eyes on yours as always, you give in and let the moment take in, your focus only on Dazai in this corner of time, as no one else exists.

Eyes like a hawk’s, it’s the moments when he gets to see you without nothing but bliss in mind that he cherishes the most. This time, it’s different and he is aware the reason behind is his actions. Unlike any other time, it’s not mere minutes where he gets to have you completely, a shift of something in you and until the high of it rises and dies down, you’re his, and all of him is yours.

For now, Dazai ignores the consequences of his actions and lives through what little you get to share until it ends.

‘La petite mort’, what a fitting name, he thinks, and how expected of him to enjoy it.

The clock starts ticking again, your pupils are narrowing.

“We’re down for this time, for sure.” You speak out as your breathing returns to normal, voice a still raspy.

“How so?” Dazai asks in return, his usual smile appearing back on his face, his composure looks far better than yours, in which you poke him for.

“Kunikida was right besides us!” you keep whispering the words, trying not to raise your voice. To anyone else, you’d come off agitated however Dazai knows you by now, just a tad worried, that’s all it is. “Even if he didn’t have suspicions before, he does now. We practically handed him over the proof.”

With a sigh, you lean back and run your hands to check your clothes for any fix-ups.

In return, Dazai leans over and rests his forehead by your face. Nobody pays much attention to the tidiness of his bandages so he leaves them be.

Turning his face to yours, the smile you’ve grown to hate never falters. It’s easier to relax somehow, and if he concentrates he can smell the scent of his skin on you. “Well, it’s not like Kunikida gets a say in who we get to see off the clock,” letting out a breath, his smile softens, “does he now?”

Fumbling with your bracelet as you listen, you perk up at his words. “Dazai, these are the work hours, we are on the job right now.” He can hear the confusion in your voice, he can’t blame you for that.

You never talk about any of these, let alone further implications of whatever this is.

You just assumed it’d end as always, going back to your divided lives, pretending nothing happened.

Up until now, nothing ever happened.

For the moment, he lets you ignore his implications.

There’ll be time to talk about these later.

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percydarling · 3 years ago

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Fred Lives (But does he really?)

Fred is alive.

He's not dead or lying under rubble or even a broken leg.

He's alive with all his organs intact. Sure there's some dirt and blood on his face but overall, he's okay.

Wait. Blood?

Oh no no no no no no.

He hears Ron before he sees it. Ron and Hermione holding the body with Harry staring dazed and shocked.

Fred crumpled to the ground mumbling no no no over and over agin. This can't be happening. He just came back. He was just here, it doesn't make sense. No, no,no this death could be avoided, it wasn't even an attack, it was just a stupid bloody wall made of magic and cement and whatever materials falling.

All Fred could do was hold Percy's body, his glasses somehow unbroken while his brother's heart was broken inside. His blue eyes staring now lifelessly at the ceiling, his hand clutching his wand close to his chest.

Maybe the most astonishing thing was that Percy was smiling and it wasn't the fake or polite smile. Really smiling, like a grin, as if.. as if he was happy.

Fred just wanted his brother back, he could lecture them on cauldron bottoms or stupid Ministry rules or scold them for leaving Hogwarts early or..or..or anything! It wasn't fair, it isn't fair.

Ron, ever the strategic was the first one on his feet.

"We need to hide the body and keep..keep it somewhere safe"

Fred couldn't do that. He had left Percy alone for far too long and he couldn't leave. He had to keep him safe, secure, away from this stupid bloody war. Couldn't Ron see that?

Thankfully Harry could.

Wordlessly, Harry put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, looking back at Hermione and Ron giving them a nod, their secret language of communication, and they understand before they leave together, Ron looking back at the body one last time.

Harry helps him lift Percy,and Fred is genuinely shocked at how light Percy is, but then he realises he's lifting his brother's dead body and all he can do is breathe as little as he could.

They find a place behind a pillar, where they keep Percy down.

Percy is dead.

He's not injured or unconscious, he's dead.

Fred's not sure if he was in shock before or if he's realising it again or he needs to confirm it or.. or.. or...

Merlin, Fred can't think straight, he can't even breathe.

"Fred, Fred look at me"

Harry's voice brings him out of it and Fred realises he's hyperventilating. Fred mirrors Harry's breathing pattern and Fred returns to normal.

Well as normal as they could in the middle of a bloody war.

"Okay Harry, let's do this. Let's go and defeat that bastard."

And with that both Fred and Harry run towards screams aiming at Deatheaters.

Fred hits more than a few and soon enough loses Harry in the crowd of people and blood. As much as he tries, Fred can't forget Percy's face, grining at him.

Fred has to be alive at the end of this war otherwise Percy's death would be worthless.

And Fred would not let that happen.

It doesn't help that he sees dead bodies littered on the floor, or blood that stains the floors of Hogwarts. How did they get here? How did this happen?

Dwelling on the past is of no use .

That's what Percy had told him before they had gone together.

"Come on Perce, let's go defeat the bad blokes"

"You want me to come with you?"

It's the shock on his face that makes Fred feel horrible. When was the last time they did anything together?

"Of course I do, you're my brother, besides I've not seen you for 3 years. It's time we do some brotherly bonding mate!"

Fred and Percy both gasp at the last word.

Mate?!

When had Fred ever called Percy mate?

"Well there's a first time for everything", Percy smiled, as he said that.

Fred grinned at that and then realised that maybe he hadn't been the best brother to Percy in a long while.

"Percy, I'm sorry about everything be-"

He didn't get to finish because Percy interrupted

"Oh ssh now, you forgive me and I forgive you. There's nothing more to it. This is our first brotherly bonding moment out of the many yet to come. Let's enjoy it."

It felt good to hear that. For Fred, it was like a new chapter opened up, a new experience, a second chance.

"Besides dwelling on the past is of no use to anyone, neither me ,nor you", Percy said wisely as he pulled Fred up on his feet.

"Okay smart arse, let's go and hex people, before you say any more of your wise phrases and tire yourself out oldie"

"You do know I'm only 2 years older than you right? Of course you wouldn't know, you're just a toddler"

"Hey!"

And with witty banter, both of them marched towards the zone of screams.

Brotherly bonding. That's never going to happen now. Percy's gone and this time for good.

No more second chance, no more nothing and that's even worse, isn't it? About to begin something new, a new thing, and just like that, that hope disappears.

Fred can't even remember a good memory with Percy, he can't and that's absolutely terrifying.

However, he can't analyze this now, there'll be time later. Like Percy said, dwelling on the past is of no use.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

After hexing and killing and injuring plenty of Deatheaters, there is for a moment of peace, the war isn't over yet but there is a calm.

Fred sighs, he's just tired, so tired. He's so young yet he feels like he aged a decade in the last few hours. Was that how Mum and Dad felt during the First War? Maybe, maybe not.

He sees Mum first before the others and then he remembers, he has to tell them. A selfish part of him wishes that Ron must have told them first, so he doesn't have to.

He approaches them and the relief on his Mum's face when she sees him almost makes him break down right there and then, because she doesn't know.

She pulls him in for a hug, and just for that one minute it's comforting to just be held by your mother so tight, it makes him feel better. Fred feels warm.

And just like that she lets him go, and the feeling of dread returns.

"Mum-"

He's immediately tackled into a hug by his twin and George holds him so tightly as if he was well dead. He should be.

Any other time, Fred would have brushed George off and tell him he was being too emotional but now, he was just hoping that George would never let go. He doesn't know how he would feel if George would have died. He doesn't know how George would feel if he had died.

He just cannot imagine a world where they both die and now they both don't have to.

After George finally lets him go, Fred tries to approach the topic again

"I need to te-"

"Oh Ron, Thank Merlin you're alright"

Mum interrupts him this time as she sees Ron walking. Ron looks tired, dark circles under his eyes and body heavy as if carrying the world's fate on his back(well that's true). The point being that Ron looked exhausted

And as Ron stood among the group of red hair, they were almost a family.

Almost.

Charlie wasn't here and Percy was...

Fred shared a look with Ron, they both knew they had to tell them but they didn't want to or how were they going to tell them. Just saying it out? Beating around the bush?

No. They just had to say it out even if they didn't want to.

Then Ginny asked the question they were dreading.

"Where's Percy?"

#percy weasley #fred weasley #percy weasley fic #dead percy #angst #perct weasley centric #weasley family

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riathedreamer · 4 years ago

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Zero is Null

A discussion of Zero’s love-hate-relationship with RvB and struggling independence; including a hotdog too big for the bun, tragic backstories, a single bow-chicka-bow-wow, and a cookie at the very end.

Welcome to what will be a lot of text. Basically, it will explore why Zero fails as an RvB (with emphasis on RvB) season. I will not be the first one to bring forth some of the points, and I promise to be fair and civil and fun. This isn’t supposed to be a piece of hate – in fact, I’m writing this because I love Red vs. Blue.

Okay, first of all, to increase your fun – take a guess on just how much of Zero is spent on fight scenes. You see, I’ve calculated the exact amount, and I will reveal it later, but for now, take a guess and remember the number. Maybe you are the winner!

Alright, time to share my thoughts. Wait! Since I suffer from anxiety and have this one annoying voice pretending to be all those critical statements my opinion could be met with, let’s give it an actual voice and address the points throughout this review.

“Why would I care about your opinion, Ria?” – I don’t know, you’re the one who clicked Read More.

“Your opinion doesn’t matter!” – Of course, it doesn’t! Geez. Do you think your opinion matters, though? Listen, we’re on Tumblr, the actual equivalent of screaming into the void. And it’s fun, too!

“If you don’t like it, don’t watch!” - *activates Uno Reverse Card* “You can’t talk about something you haven’t watched!”

“You’re just a Hater” – Actually, this is a point I’ll come back to. Like a cliffhanger. Also, at the end of this, there’ll be a cookie. But this will also include me talking about the stuff I like, because, surprise, Zero is not without talent!

“You just don’t like it because the Reds and Blues aren’t in it!” – Actually, that’s a good point, so instead, this review will start with a sole focus on Zero and discuss the problem that lies within that story. Then we can address why the lack of OG cast is understandable and problematic and weird.

But first! Backstory.

When the first 5 second teaser dropped back in spring (you know, when we were young and innocent and the world didn’t feel like an apocalyptic movie yet), I held onto that one image of what I thought (hoped) to be Grif and Simmons in the sunset, hopefully addressing Grif’s hateglue arc, but boy was I wrong because a) that’s not Simmons, that’s Sarge, and b) the image was from a PSA since the Reds are not in Zero.

Actual face-reveal of me below:

Admittedly, when I heard that the Reds and Blues were not going to be the main characters (or even show up), it felt like a gut punch. However, I actually found myself getting excited due to the creators’ hype. I want to praise them for this. It’s been a while since an RvB season was talked so much ABOUT before its release; it had advertisements, it had creators and voice-actors talking about it. Please. More of that in the future. Their passion rubbed off on me, and that deserves recognition. So it pains me that this was clearly a passion-project, and then when I gave it a try, I didn’t want to touch it again for weeks.

Here’s the thing. I cannot whole-heartedly say that Zero is bad. It’s not gonna melt your eyes. It’s not even so-bad-it’s-good. For me, it’s meh. It’s a Saturday-morning-cartoon aimed for a younger audience with a rushed plot and clichéd characters. The problem is that it calls itself RvB, and with that title comes something to live up to – but more importantly, something to continue.

My main issue is that Zero forces its story into existence by ignoring established content rather than adjusting to it. Let’s call this for the hotdog-too-big-for-the-bun syndrome solely for the sake of the bow-chicka-bow-wow that’s coming now. Bow-chicka-bow-wow. Many of the separate issues I will dive into all add to this hotdog-issue, so I will scream “Hotdog!” whenever this is the case so we can all keep track of my argument.

You can continue the story of Red vs. Blue without the Reds and Blues. While that would personally crush my heart, it can be done. There’s a story of Red vs. Blue that can be continued. The world can be expanded, the previous actions of the Reds and Blues can be explored from another angle.

So.

How does Zero do this? It doesn’t.

I just want to make it clear that new elements can definitely be added when it comes to worldbuilding. That’s literally the point of sequels. But Zero’s settings are presented with so little grace and with no connection to previously established worldbuilding. We get Alliance of Defense and GLASS thrown in our face as very big important organizations – yet we’ve never heard of them before. A big central plot point of RvB is the UNSC and Project Freelancers, and those were introduced naturally with the plot. We already have big established intergalactic organizations. What is AOD’s connection with those? We aren’t told. We are just told they exist and expected to accept it, no questions asked. If this was a whole new world and story – fine. But when you need to build on an already established worldbuilding, you need more grace than this. Chorus was a whole new setting, but it was explained, and it was connected to the previous plot. Same with Iris. Same with Desert Gulch. In Zero, it feels lazy. It feels forced. These organizations are just there because the story is built around them (HOTDOG).

This vagueness when it comes to wordbuilding is also reflected in the settings - we have a desert, a training base, a lab, temples, Tucker’s workplace, and we do not know if all those are set place on the same planet. If that is the case, what is this planet’s relationship with Chorus? Is it Earth? And most importantly, what is the deal with the temples? Why are they connected to Tucker’s sword if it isn’t the same planet. Are they made by the same aliens? Are people okay with this? Why haven’t these temples been explored before? Chorus makes sure to establish this, while Zero doesn’t, adding to a growing amount of confusion.

Okay, so no connection with previous worldbuilding. What about characters? I mean, we got Wash and Carolina and Tucker! So we have RvB characters, it gotta be RvB! Technically – yeah. But it feels dirty. These three characters are not here to be characters. They are here to be props to the new cast. They are not given any development. Their presence isn’t even that important, and if this was a whole new show, they could easily have been replaced with an unknown face. Worst of all, they feel miswritten.

Carolina and Wash are working at a new military organization? Leaving the Reds and Blues behind? To help people? First of all, fucking bad idea, Carolina, the last time you left the Reds and Blues alone, they changed the timeline. But most importantly – Carolina and Wash just joined this new super elite military organization? After being mistreated and manipulated by such an organization in the past?

Carolina is there to introduce the characters. That’s it. We are force-fed their personality by having her literally read out loud their personality. There is no gentle introduction to the new cast. We are not allowed to get to know them naturally. Why show when you can tell, huh? That’s Carolina’s role. That’s why she is there. To introduce the cast and explain their story. That’s it. (HOTDOG).

How about Wash? He is there to get beat up and be a damsel in distress so that the new cast has a reason to explore the plot. Oh, and that brain damage that was the consequence of previous seasons – gone now. The guy who literally has trauma from having an AI explode inside his head is fine with having a computer inserted into it instead. Because that’s needed. To explore his brain damage wouldn’t work now when his role is to be a prop to lure the new cast for one episode and then be put onto the bench for the rest of the runtime (HOTDOG).

And Tucker – he is there to die for a second and have his sword taken from him. That’s literally it. And for the few moments he is there, he feels like old super flirty Tucker, which erases the character development he went through in previous seasons. Okay, so Tucker dies, and then not dies, and then he is put on the bench with Wash where they can sit and talk or whatever (‘cause holy shit, the new cast is not allowed to that), because he isn’t important. The sword is. Tucker is just a prop, even more than his sword is (HOTDOG).

Damn. Wash gets beat up. Tucker gets beat up. Dies. Gets his sword taken away. Almost seems like a Red’s wet dream. Sorry not sorry, Blues, you were done dirty.

So there are miswritten old characters. Even worse is the retconning. The plot needs a “normal” Wash, so, bam, magic computer solution. Never mind Wash’s trauma and character traits. Never mind the logic of the new worldbuilding which also includes a character suffering for years to heal an illness. But the brain damage that was such a big consequence that it became the main part of the plot of the last two seasons – gone. I mean, a gunshot to the head can be healed by CPR. That’s canon. But no one gave Wash CPR so it’s a big thing, okay. It was canonically a big thing, and Zero erased that. This is not me saying that a Cerebral Enhancer couldn’t work in the RvB universe. Imagine it being done right. Wash struggling with the choice of getting used to his disability or accepting the possibility of help - at the cost of reliving his trauma. The struggle between what to choose - what should he choose when he wants to help as many as possible, the sacrifices he thinks he has to make, the way it could have been used as a part of his character growth. But in Zero, the enhancer isn’t a part of Wash’s character. It’s there so the story can work without having to deal with the previous plot’s consequence (HOTDOG).

Same with the sword thing. They sorta explain it by having Tucker flatline, but it’s weak. Honestly, I find it sorta offensive. What about Locus’ sword as well? It’s twisting previous lore to make the new plot work (HOTDOG). (Also, are we not gonna talk about the ultimate power being Spencer Porkensenson’s helmet? Have the writers forgotten Spencer Porkensenson? Have we as a community forgotten Spencer Porkensenson?)

If you have Red vs. Blue in your title, you cannot ignore what you inherit from it. You need to respect the worldbuilding, the established characters, and the previous plot. Zero does not do this.

Let’s talk about the Triplets. No, really, let’s do it. I don’t think I’ve ever talked about them before, because season 14 was a mixed bag for me (that I have now learned to appreciate. Thank you, Zero.) because I have heart at the size of the Grinch and can only love a few characters at a time, and that did not include the Triplets. Can’t even remember their names. Well, I can, but I can’t for the love of me remember which state is which, and my tongue is twisted every time I try to say Ohio, Iowa, and Idaho, and I know it’s on purpose. I know it is. And it got me good. That being said, the fandom actually embraced them really, really well! Seriously, I’ve seen more content for the Triplets than for Zero as a whole.

Why talk about the Triplets? (Was Iowa the lesbian? Or was it Ohio? Fuck.) Because like Zero, they introduced new characters with a story of their own. The Reds and Blues didn’t play a role. But here’s what I feel like the Triplets got right. They didn’t change the settings to force their narrative. They used stuff already established (Project Freelancer), added their own story as a continuation of that. They even included old characters in the beginning (Wash and some other Freelancers) but it felt natural and it didn’t feel like it happened at the expense of the old characters. Wash’s writing felt natural, and his presence wasn’t needed to tell these new character’s stories. He wasn’t a prop to them. He was there to establish the setting and to establish the relationship with these new characters, and then he and the other familiar faces (helmets??) left, and we as the viewers were left with these new characters. And the new characters told their own story by themselves. It felt like, hey, here’s something you know – remember Mother of Invention, and remember Wash’ lower rank, but now, try to imagine being even lower rank than him, aren’t you curious about those fates? Now let’s hear their story! It was new, it was something else, but it didn’t wreck what came before it, and it stayed true to the classic vibes of RvB.

As I said before, the hotdog-issue is my biggest problem with Zero. It infuriates me. I will return to this. But there are more issues, even if we try to look past the title-related problems.

If we try to imagine Zero as its own story and universe (as it should be, in my opinion), it still earns the meh review from me.

These isolated issues include awkwardness, the writing, lack of self-awareness, and pacing. First of all, holy shit, this is a tell, don’t show. Nothing is subtle, nothing is allowed to develop. It’s like the show thinks you are six years old with an attention span of a goldfish. You are not just led by the hand – they have literally pulled off your arm by the end of the show. We are force-fed every bit of information, every bit of personality from these new characters.

The voice-acting is a mixed bag for me. Sometimes it’s pretty good, sometimes it’s not. Some of the problems can definitely be blamed on the dialogue that you can only do so much with. It’s not good. I can’t remember any good jokes (the one joke I really appreciate was the cast on armor, and that was freaking visual humor. That was so RvB. Kudos to that. It was fun. More of that, please.), and RvB is known for having memorably good lines. This is a show built on good, clever, funny dialogue. Zero does not deliver. You have to sit through clichéd lines – “You’re not my dad”, “I trusted you”, “Come with me”, “It can’t be!”, “She’s way too powerful”, and “We have to do this together” – performed unironically. I cringed more than I laughed. Worst thing is that Zero could be a good parody. Sometimes, it feels like it is. One-dimensional characters, a villain wanting ‘the ultimate power’, very overpowered characters, bad one-liners, etc. But Zero takes itself seriously, and I was one of the people rooting for Jax to show up at the end and yell “Cut”. That would have been a funny-as-fuck twist. A spin-off parody. If I can’t have “Sarge the Movie”, I would have taken that and loved it. I would have forgiven everything. “We put so much info into finding that power, but we had no idea what it was” is really a line in the finale, and I cannot believe this is real in a show that somehow still tries to present itself as serious. What a plot.

We have to talk about pacing. God, first of all it should be stated that RvB is a mess when it comes to pacing. I honestly get what they were going for. Sometimes, RvB has come across as a bit boring when you get three episodes stretched over three weeks without much going on. I know season 11 did not have the warmest welcome because it was seen as boring until the finale. But when you see season 11 as a whole, as a movie, as a part of a trilogy, it works so well. Zero is more focused on being episodic. They want something to happen all the time so we will stay tuned. The thing that will happen – a fight. Oh god. The fight scenes.

I have done the math. I have run the numbers. I deserve a freaking cookie for this. Are you ready?

If you put all the episodes together, you have a runtime of 106 minutes. HOWEVER, with the introduction of credits in every episode, you gotta account for this. Removing the credits, this gives us 94 minutes of actual runtime. Out of that, 45 minutes are dedicated to fight scenes. That means 48% of the show is fight scenes.

If I wanted that many fight scenes, I’d watch Death Battle. Except the actual RvB Death Battle episode has a runtime of 20 minutes, and out of that, 5 minutes is dedicated to the actual battle. For the people who hate math – that’s 25% of the actual runtime.

RvB Zero has more fight scenes than a show called Death Battle. Take that in.

The pace suffers from this. Where’s the time to explore the characters? Where’s the time for good dialogue? All I can think of is this:

I get that RvB is a show that’s literally making fun of itself by acknowledging all their characters do is stand around and talk. I get that you want characters to do more than that. But for the love of Church, would it kill the new characters to stand around and talk? For just a minute? Stop fighting, I am begging you, stop fighting! Am I a pacifist now? Am I purple? Have I joined Doc’s team? What has Zero done to me?!

The good thing though is that fight scenes are very good. They’re entertaining. However, they seem to deconstruct themselves when we need to get a fight scene in every episode. Usually, the few fight scenes in an RvB season were in some of the most climatic episodes. In Zero, I can hardly keep up with the pace because they won’t stop moving. Fight scenes aren’t plot. They aren’t character development. You need more than just fight scenes. They entertain, but there’s a limit to that.

Noël Wiggins, the co-writer, stated the inspiration was a Saturday-morning cartoon. They nailed that vibe. If that was their goal, hurray, they have accomplished something! Because of the poor plot and constant fight scenes, it feels like you could just switch on the TV and drop in at any moment and let yourself be entertained by the cool and colorful soldiers punching and kicking each other. I will admit that the fight scenes entertained me. But they don’t make it a good season.

If I were the six-year-old with the attention span of a goldfish that the show believes I am, I honestly would enjoy it. The stiff dialogue and the constant tell-don’t-show makes you feel like an audience that’s not supposed to do anything else but admire the flashy fight scenes. I miss the cleverness of RvB. I miss the characters I get to connect with as I see them grow.

I miss the tone of RvB. Because this isn’t RvB to me.

It’s not that RvB hasn’t changed its tone before. Holy shit, I sorta do want to experience the absolute shock the RvB fandom went through when s6 aired and they were given new characters and serious plot. I would have loved to experience that, but I was too busy being ten years old. The Freelancers seasons also introduced a new tone and more fight scenes with very talented fighters compared to the Blood Gulch gang, but a balance was kept by having half of the season still revolving around the Reds and Blues. But Zero – Zero is so much change. And it’s on purpose. At least this has been made very clear from the beginning.

They constantly seem to appeal to new fans, rather than be directed towards older fans of the show. If you want an entirely new audience with a season with a new cast, new worldbuilding, and new tone, I’m confused as to why they don’t just make a new show. The hotdog-problem begs for this solution. This story and environment and characters feel so out of touch with the original RvB, that with a few rewrites and lack of Halo-armor, it could just be a new show. Problem solved.

If not this, then present it as a spin-off. In all ways, it feels like a spin-off (again, see everything marked HOTDOG). But the creators refuse to do this, and I don’t understand why. I could forgive many of these issues, had they officially separated themselves from canon.

Ah, what’s the idiom? You can’t both swallow and blow? (You can hear the Bow-chicka-bow-wow in the distance). Something about eating cake and having it. Forgive me, English isn’t my native language. POINT IS why are you calling yourself RvB while actively fighting against the core essence of RvB? In my humble opinion, you can’t be both. Marketing it as a spin-off would have granted it some defense when changing, well, literally everything, and I just, would someone please properly describe why it isn’t a spin-off? Isn’t this season marked by its association with the plot of RvB rather than a continuation of it? Zero presenting itself as not a spinoff feels like a toddler clinging to the hem of its mother’s dress while forcefully running away from her, ripping the dress in the process.

When they do connect with the original RvB, it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. When they let Carolina, Wash, and Tucker appear for a moment, it feels like luring viewers in with the RvB title. Look at me. Look at me! I’m not saying this is the case. I say that it gives me the annoying vibes of being lured, rather than letting the characters be a part of the show for their own development, rather than having RvB in the title to continue its story. I should not be getting these vibes at all. But I am.

If you want to use RvB in the title, something from the core of RvB needs to be embraced. Things can be changed. They should. Something new should be brought in. But there’s a limit to how much you can change and replace and twist until it would have been better with an original show. As a season of RvB, it should tell the story of Red vs. Blue.

From my perspective, Zero fails to do so.

It pains me that the old cast has been replaced, but as stated earlier, a season could have worked without them. However, I do not like the take that one should be excited about all the new characters. That it isn’t a big thing that the OG cast got replaced. That we should just deal with it. Just, try to imagine another show suddenly replacing the main characters with characters we’ve never met before. Imagine RWBY suddenly only focusing on a new team of huntresses with the previous main characters reduced to an Easter Egg presence, or Camp Camp suddenly being about a new team of campers, no warning given. Can you imagine the outcry? So maybe let’s agree that a replacement of the main cast is a big thing and should be addressed and it’s valid to be upset about this change.

Could Zero have worked? It’s hard to answer this. How can I accept something as RvB if the season actively pushes away the core of RvB aside for an isolated story that could have been told in any other media? As a spinoff, I could have ignored it. To enjoy Zero, I have to fully separate it from RvB in my mind, and then it’s alright. S’not good. But it’s not bad. It’s entertaining enough. I really ended up liking Raymond and Tiny, and there were a few good jokes, and the fight scenes were admirable (but too much) and I love the creators’ passion. But it’s not RvB. I also wish that the new characters had been attached to previous worldbuilding, for example soldiers on Chorus or agents from Project Freelancer. That way we could build on familiar lore which would have decreased the confusion and added a much needed connection with the previous seasons of RvB.

God, the anxious voice is back (by the way, it sounds like Tutter from “Bear in the Blue House”).

“You’re racist” – I hope not. Literally, I do not want to be. Tell me if I’ve ever crossed some lines, because I swear, that is not my intention, I will apologize and most of all, change and do better. I included this because I’ve seen this take thrown around in the big ugly mess that is the fandom clashes regarding Zero. And racism is problem within RT community (this includes AH and RvB, sorry, I just use RT as an umbrella term for the latter), and I’m not saying it hasn’t been a problem with this season. Writers should never be harassed, and never-fucking-ever because of their skin color, and voice actors shouldn’t be treated like they are responsible for the choices of the show. But I was legit nervous to post this review, and I hope it’s been factual without feeling like personal attacks on the creators because that has never been my intention. I was delighted to hear about the diversity behind this project, and Torrian’s passion legit blew me away because it’s been a while since I’ve seen that for an RvB project. I’d hoped for it to be good, and when I feel disappointed, it’s for the reasons stated in this analysis. That said, Zero is made by a diverse cast and it’s made with love, and both of those things are so, so great, but it does not mean that Zero cannot be criticized. It can, and it should. It’s a product, just like all the other seasons, and fans are allowed to discuss it – both what they loved, and both what they found troublesome. And to repeat previous points, and be respectful, always, fuck racists, and never-fucking-ever harass the staff behind a season, what the fuck is wrong with you if you do this.

“Don’t you get it, it’s different because it’s trying something new!” – Hey, remember the philosophical question: if you replace all the parts of a ship one-by-one, is it still the same ship when you’re done? If it doesn’t include the Reds and Blues, if it ignores previous plot, if the old characters feel miswritten, if it values animation over dialogue, if it values fight scenes over comedy, if it wants to be Fast and Furious instead of Red vs. Blue – is it still Red vs. Blue? Because it doesn’t feel like it to me.

“It's been 17 seasons, it’s time to let the Reds and Blues go so someone else can shine!” – I simply do not understand us having been with the Reds and Blues for 17 seasons should be an argument to let them go, rather than be an argument as to why their absence hurt like hell.

“The Reds and Blues ran out of things to do!” – Did- did they, though? I mean, if we were discussing pretty much any other show, I’d probably agree that they were running out of content. But for the Reds and Blues… I think the PSAs nailed it this year! I’m not kidding, I had more fun watching the Reds and Blues discuss how to do laundry than watching Zero. You could literally give me an hour of the Reds and Blues trying to bake a cake or clear a gutter or simply settling down with an ordinary life, and I would trust them to make it worth the watch.

“The flaws were due to the fact it’s only 8 episodes long!” – Look, I can only judge a product the way it’s presented to me. I cannot come up with excuses for it. If they had 8 episodes to work with, they need to come up with a plot that works with this runtime. Seriously, this excuse cannot work when 48% of the season is spent on fight scenes. They could have used more runtime, sure, but the show needs to be able to pace itself and be planned accordingly.

“The OG cast couldn’t be a part of this year, hence Zero!” – That might be true. But. Would one year without RvB kill it? Is Zero necessary? Again, I just can’t judge excuses for the show. But trouble with the cast has been an issue before. Season 15 solves Geoff’s sabbatical by actually making Grif’s absence a part of the plot. Zero’s lack of Reds and Blues just feels like this excuse to tell a story that needn’t be a part of RvB.

Am I a hater? I guess? I greatly dislike Zero for the critique stated above. I do, however, not harass the creators and no one should ever do that. However, I have to admit that I feel there’s been this weird rejection of any critique of Zero where everything’s been brushed off as haters gonna hate, including the critique stated above. And I think that’s a problem because critique, as hard as it can be to hear (and I know this. I’m an author of original works. Weird flex, I know), is valid and necessary and shouldn’t just be shrugged away. As always, both sides of the fandom should always be respectful, but my own opinion is that addressing the flaws of Zero should not be controversial.

Does this super long rant/critique/whatever mean you cannot enjoy Zero? Gods no! I almost envy you if you enjoy this season, but holy shit, feel free to love it and tell the creators that you love it! Me pointing out the issues I have with the season shouldn’t be stopping you. I loved (and still love) s15 when it came out, and it was majorly rejected by the fandom. There were many, many critical posts, people were going on about how RvB should have ended with s13, and it evolved into the writer receiving death threats (me, once again: never ever harass the creators, assholes). But I didn’t tell people to stop being negative. I actually agreed with many of the flaws that were pointed out, and I enjoyed the season despite this, because that is possible. We, as RvB fans, should agree that RvB, is... I mean, it’s not the greatest, most flawless of shows, but we love it nonetheless. So go ahead and love Zero. This is not a stop sign. This is my opinion that you chose to read.

Wait, I promised you a cookie, didn’t I? Well, you’re not getting one. Why? Because I’m a Red and this is my chance to piss off a Blue. As Caboose wisely said: “Well, at least I don't go around... knocking on people's non-doors... and promising them cookies... and then NOT. GIVING. THEM. COOKIES!”

Blue Team sucks.

End speech.

#rvb zero #rvb #rvb zero critical #rvb critical #rvb0 #my rvb stuff #pls dont hate me for this #this is my honest opinion that people apparantly wanted to hear #as a standalone story zero isnt totally bad #as an rvb season it is

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iliveiloveiwrite · 5 years ago

Text

Rivals

A/N: @obsessedwithrandomthings requested some Neville angst in the form of enemies to lovers from me so here is what I hope is Neville angst! Honestly, it’s more rivals with a lot of unresolved sexual tension but I still hope you like! She also made this wonderful banner! I also don’t know if you can tell but I am really inspired by greek mythology and witchcraft lore in general (I'm a historian, what can I say?) and this fic is full of it so if that’s not your thing, then I apologise! Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Rival professors

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, gets a lil bit steamy

Word count: 4.7k

There wasn’t a man on the earth that could infuriate you more than Neville Longbottom.

And you had known Draco Malfoy for over a decade.

There was a history between the two of you; a natural hatred that came with the Slytherin/Gryffindor rivalry, but there was always something more. A deeper attraction that ran between the two of you despite how hard you rejected it.

He felt it too; and he fought it with every breath.

You thought you would get some reprieve upon your appointment as the Divination professor at Hogwarts, but as you entered the staff room your first week there, Neville Longbottom was stood speaking to Headmistress McGonagall.

“You have got to be shitting me?” You cry.

“Professor (Y/L/N)!” McGonagall admonishes.

“I’m sorry Headmistress, but seriously? Longbottom?”

“I’m not thrilled about the prospect of working with you either.” Neville drawls.

McGonagall looks between the two of you, a small frown pulling down the corners of her mouth, “I do hope you’ll get along in front of students.”

You glare at the tall brunette, “There’ll be no issue with that on my part, Headmistress.”

Neville returns your glare with just as much acid, “The one thing we’ll agree on then.”

-------------

It’s the little things he does that bother you; such as smirking at you from across the Great Hall or taking the last of the milk in the staff room. Neville knows exactly how to get a rise out of you, and he does an excellent job of it.

The rivalry that had seemingly ended upon the end of your education, promptly started back up again.

Constant competition broke out between Neville and yourself: who got the higher grades? Who had the highest pass rate? Who got the most laughs out their students?

It never ended. He would goad you, and you’d goad him right back. Practical jokes would be played on each other often. You were both frequent customers at the Weasley twin’s joke shop where materials were hoarded, and plans were formed.

McGonagall watched the two of you bicker in the staffroom; a regular occurrence. She watched the both of you argue from across the room with a fond look on her face. The rivalry would always be present between the two of you; and she was surprised – to say you were a gifted seer, you had not foreseen the palpable tension between Neville and yourself.

She watches the back and forth between the two of you; head moving as if watching a muggle tennis match. Insults and jibes are thrown between you both and yet, despite the bitterness of the words, there was no major malice in your voices.

McGonagall sips at her tea, rolling her eyes at the two of you. She supposes that it would only be a matter of time now.

----------

The week before term starts you get a letter of rejection in your notice box. Your application for the money for new textbooks had been denied. You scrunch the paper in your hands; feeling the all too familiar emotion of frustration running through your veins. Your argument for the textbooks was sound; it would be easier for the school to purchase the materials for the students than to rely on the students to use their own money.

You knock on the heavy, wooden door of McGonagall’s office; entering upon hearing her grant permission. “Headmistress, why has my application for new textbooks been rejected?”

“We’ve had to siphon funds for the Herbology trip.”

You see red, but keep a lid on your temper in front of your boss, “Pardon?”

“Divination is an elective subject; Herbology is compulsory through all seven years.” McGonagall reasons.

“So because of that, my students have to use textbooks that are falling apart?”

“We can add the material onto the reading list if that makes anything better?”

You sit back in your chair, “Term starts in a week. Students will have bought their books already. The very reason I applied for the textbooks was so that students didn’t have to buy them.”

McGonagall holds her hands up, “I’m sorry, Professor.”

You sigh through your nose, standing to leave, “Thank you for your time, Headmistress.”

Anger rises within you; all directed at the maddening Herbology professor. You understood that Herbology was a compulsory subject, and that it was very useful in determining a student’s future career as a Healer or a Potioneer. But Divination was becoming increasingly popular among the muggleborn students who grew up knowing the tales of tarot reading, palmistry and clairvoyance. And after the war, so many students sat in the class hoping for a relief in their grief – to find an answer to the well-asked question, do they find peace?

You confront Neville in the staff room, “The reason I cannot get new textbooks for my Sixth Years is because you’ve used the money for a trip to London to meet Herbert Beery?”

“He taught Herbology here before Professor Sprout, it is a worthwhile trip!”

You pause the rant sitting at the tip of your tongue; letting his words settle. “Repeat those very words for me, Longbottom.”

Neville frowns, “What?”

“Repeat. Those. Words.” You enunciate; each syllable pronounced.

“Herbert Beery taught Herbology here before Sprout. It’s a worthwhile experience for students interested in taking the subject further.”

The cushion in your hands hits Neville in the face. He looks at you astonished as you shout, “You’re taking students to meet an ex-professor?”

“What aren’t you understanding about this?” Neville questions as another cushion hits his face, “Stop doing that!” he yells.

“Why didn’t you bring him here?! He knows the school; it’s known territory! And it would have saved enough money so I could get my textbooks!” You throw more cushions at him; enjoying the way he has to dodge them. “You didn’t think this through at all, Longbottom.”

“Calm down, (Y/N). Your students can always buy the textbooks.”

“Not this close to term starting!” You throw yourself down onto the couch with a groan, “You’re an arsehole.”

Neville glares, “This trip is a once in a lifetime experience for my students. Herbert Beery is officially retiring from the field after this lecture.”

“And yet you couldn’t invite him to Hogwarts?”

“No.”

You stand, shoving his shoulder as you pass him to leave. “I can’t even begin to tell you how pissed I am. I can’t even look at you right now.”

Leaving him there, surrounded by couch cushions, you take a breather in the courtyard. Inhaling the fresh air, you start to see things more clearly. It seems that a friendship would never exist between the two of you; the rivalry stemming from Hogwarts running so deep that it could never be breached by kind words and actions.

A plan forms in your head for the perfect revenge, and it would mean a visit to Diagon Alley.

---------

If there was one thing that your education at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry had taught you, it was if you were going to prank someone, you had to make it a good one. George and Fred Weasley are more than happy to help you enchant the chalk; neither asking too many questions – they see the mischievous glint in your eye and know not to interrogate too much.

Neville walks into his classroom to find his students already sat in their seats. He lets them continue socialising as he sets up his materials for the day; this lesson focusing on the theory behind Herbology rather than hands-on practice. He grabs his chalk from the bottom of the board, proceeding to write the date and title before turning to his class, pulling their attention away from their friends and on to him.

It takes him two minutes to notice to amused expressions and the stifling of laughter.

It takes him five minutes to figure out why.

On the chalkboard behind is a caricature of his face on the body of a baby Mandrake. He’s crying big, fat tears that make their way down the length of the board before turning to dust at the bottom.

Neville can feel his face heat from the anger building within him and coursing through his veins, setting them alight. He knows exactly who’s behind this, and it isn’t any of his students.

--------

Your class settle into their assigned seats; the crystal balls already placed in the centres of their tables. Once upon a time, students would groan at the sight of them, but now they regard them with interest.

You grin at your students, knowing what lesson they had last, “How was Herbology?”

Thomas Wadsworth in Ravenclaw begins to laugh, “I knew you would have something to do with it, Professor.”

“Was it obvious?”

He shakes his head, “Not really, but everyone knows of your rivalry.”

“How did he react?”

Shea Bard in Gryffindor raises her hand, “He went very red and muttered some curses before teaching us something else.”

You rub your hands together, “What else? Was it funny?”

“Very,” Shea nods, “But we didn’t dare laugh, no-one was in the mood to get a detention no matter how funny it was.”

You clap your hands together, pleased with the outcome. You’d have to send a thank you card to the Weasley twins for their genius minds.

“Why do you have this rivalry with Professor Longbottom?” A voice from the back asks.

Other students turn their eyes from their crystal balls to you; more interested in this topic of conversation rather than predicting their neighbour’s future.

You shrug, “We’ve never liked each other. He’s a Gryffindor and I’m a Slytherin.”

Thomas scoffs, “That can’t be it, surely? Give us something more, Professor.”

“What more is there? We went to school together and we never got on.”

Shea smiles, “With all respect Professor, you have to be aware of the tension between the two of you.”

“Tension?” You question, eyebrows furrowing.

Thomas raises his hand, counting the syllables off with his fingers, “Sex-u-al ten-shun.”

You stare wide-eyed at your class. Shea frowns, “Oh man, you weren’t aware of it were you?”

You clear your throat, “I have to know, how did my personal life become the topic for this class?”

“Since you won’t make a move on Professor Longbottom.”

“Thomas!” You chide.

He frowns, “I’m only saying what everyone else was thinking. It’s so obvious you fancy each other, it’s sickening.”

“Professor Longbottom and I have never gotten along. The most you’re going to see out of us is rivalry and cold stares.”

Thomas rolls his eyes, “Okay, Professor. If you get together before Christmas, Frances owes me Butterbeer for a month.”

“I’ll be sure to keep your bet in mind, Thomas, thank you.” You drawl with an unimpressed look, “Let’s get back to our crystal balls shall we?”

And just like that, the conversation over your personal life and your relationship with Neville Longbottom was over.

--------

The sound of your classroom door slamming shut has you jumping in your spot. You press a hand to your chest; trying to slow your racing heart as you take in the angry figure of Neville Longbottom.

“I know it was you.” He states, enunciating every word as if they were its own sentence. “I know it was you that planted the enchanted chalk in my classroom.”

You place a hand on your heart, grinning, “I am hurt that you would accuse me of such a thing, Longbottom.”

He stalks towards you, pressing you into your desk. He’s so close that you can smell the dirt from the greenhouse; it’s become the scent you associate with him.

“I spoke to the Weasley twins.”

Your grin shifts into a sly smirk, “The jig is up, you’ve caught me red-handed.”

The atmosphere between the two of become charged. The electricity in the air becoming magnetic; stirring something deep within your gut. Your eyes run over his face; taking in the widened pupils and the deepened breathing. He’s feeling it too; feeling it just as intense as you.

You resist the urge to drag him in for a kiss. You resist the urge to taste him; to memorise every inch of him with your fingers and mouth.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” You ask, voice breathless. He pushes himself away from you, stepping away quickly as your words land.

Neville storms out of your classroom; running both hands through his hair with a frustrated groan. You watch him leave, trying to slow the racing of your heart to no avail. He had no idea the reaction he could pull from you, but you were also unaware of the reaction, you could evoke from him.

You push your hair back from your forehead as you analyse your feelings for the Herbology professor; wondering when they had started to lean more towards to love than hatred.

You need to consult someone or something whether it be your cards or your tea leaves; everything feels so gnarled and scrambled, it felt impossible to make heads or tails of it all.

----------

Neville begins to enact his revenge a week later.

It starts with sitting next to you at the weekly briefings; sitting close enough to you where you can feel the warmth exuding from his body – sitting close enough to you where his thigh presses against yours. Through the briefing, he’d lean into you, whispering into your ear, asking for your thoughts. You clench the hand that’s resting on your thigh, and you feel rather than hear Neville’s amused snort at your action. He pulls away when McGonagall calls the end of the briefing and you’re left feeling suddenly cold at the lack of his touch.

He then moves onto catching your eye at every meal time. Upon which he smirks, running a hand over his jaw, not missing the way your eyes track the movement of his fingers. You turn away with a frown, drawing Professor Flitwick into a conversation about the latest journal on charms.

He decides to interrupt one of your lessons on the second day of his revenge. He enters your classroom using the ruse of searching for a student. Your mouth dries as you run your eyes up and down his body. His work overalls are tied at the waist; his muscles gloriously defined by a tight white t-shirt spattered with dirt from the plants, and the tattoos he got in memorial for the second wizarding war stand out against his lightly tanned skin.

In the years you had known Neville, you had watched him transform from a bumbling teenager into what could only be described as a Greek God.

The expression that falls across his face as you take in the sight of him makes it very clear to you that he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You refuse to let him see how he’s getting to you. You shift your attention back to your class; not missing the way Thomas Cresswell points at Frances Bainbridge across the room, calling for the outcome of their bet. You roll your eyes at Thomas and Frances as you let the student Neville came for leave the classroom.

-----------

“What are you doing?” You hiss at him on the third day of his revenge.

He smirks, “Absolutely nothing.”

“If this is your revenge for my prank, it’s messed up, Longbottom.”

Neville’s eyes widen; his face the picture of perfect innocence, “What makes you think that?”

He walks away before you can answer, leaving you questioning the last week of your life.

You finish your week confused and frustrated. The feelings that had always been present for Neville were riled up; you were thinking of him more often, remembering how his thigh felt pressed against yours and the attention he paid you from across the Great Hall at every meal time.

Your heart races every time you think of him, and your stomach erupts in butterflies. You spend your free periods thinking of how he would feel pressed against you, and how his stubble would feel under your lips. More often than not, you would find yourself with your head in your hands, cursing the day you ever let the Herbology professor into your life.

----------

It was the very last thing you wanted to do, but it was something you needed to do. A headache had been brewing now for three days, ever since Neville cooled off with his revenge for your chalkboard prank. The headache was making you sharper with your students that you intended to be.

This wasn’t a usual headache though; it had stemmed from your witches-eye - becoming a seer’s headache very quickly. The only way this could be relieved was to fall into it; opening your eye and being shown what you needed to see.

You find Neville in one of the many greenhouses dedicated to Herbology. He stands over the freshly potted Mandrakes, sprinkling fertiliser on them. You lean against the door to the greenhouse, rubbing the centre of your forehead. “Longbottom, I wouldn’t usually ask this of you, but I need access to the restricted greenhouse.”

Neville frowns, “Why would you need to go there?”

“There’s a plant I need. Would you please take me?”

“It’s nothing dangerous is it?”

You shake your head, refusing to speak as it would give away your lie.

Neville takes a set of keys from his pocket, searching for a minute for the lesser-used key. You follow him as he leads you to the restricted greenhouse. Such as with the library, the greenhouses had an area controlled against student use for it grew plants that were not only dangerous, but deadly. Mandrakes were one thing - the plants grown here had helped dark wizards gain fame, fortune, power, and all at a cost.

Neville waits at the door as you walk through the greenhouse, looking for the pale yellow flower covered in veins. You find it in little to no time at all, picking a few flowers from the plant. A petal would be fine for now; Henbane could be deadly if used in large quantities. Taking more than what you needed was your way of assuring that you wouldn’t need to bother Neville again.

You make your way back to Neville, smiling smally at the questioning expression on his face. “Did you get everything you need?” he asks.

You nod, patting the little bag in which you had stored the Henbane flowers, “I got it. Thank you, Neville.”

The walk back to the staff room is in silence. You make to walk back to your tower, ready to start the drying process for the Henbane flower, but a hand grips your wrist. You turn to find Neville holding you in place, “You’re being careful, aren’t you (Y/N)? There’s a reason that greenhouse is restricted.”

You pull your wrist from his grip, “I’ll be fine, Neville. Thanks for your concern.”

You walk away before he can say anything else.

--------

Nothing felt clear; everything felt frazzled and vague. It was as if the very threads of your life had become a tangled, snarled mess. Your realisation of your feelings for Neville had left you in a lurch; you’ve caught him watching you multiples times now – all with a puzzled expression on his face, as if reliving the restricted greenhouse and the revenge from your prank on him.

Your hands run over the top of scrying bowl. The bowl had been handed down to you by your grandmother who had been a powerful seer; it depicts the Triple Goddess in her three forms – maiden, mother, crone.

Incense fills your office; the scent of the Black Henbane given to you by Neville. Henbane had been demonised for centuries; scholars noting that it was used in ointments and could help with conjuring of spirits.

You inhale its smell; your witches-eye opening, more sensitive in the right environment. So few witches possessed the gifts of a seer, it was rare for you to use your talent – usually letting the prophecies and such come to you naturally.

But this was needed. You needed answers for why your tea leaves were conflicting and why your tarot readings were not making sense.

An ethereal voice calls out in greeting, signalling that you had reached the other side, “You called me, daughter.”

“The path is foggy, and I’ve lost my way. I thought I was certain but now I’m not.”

“There is no way forward that does not have him in it.”

“What do you mean?”

“The one who gave you the Henbane to call me forth. He is with you through it all.”

Neville? Neville.

“He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t even like me.”

“Do not be too sure, daughter.”

Your eyebrows pull together, a puzzled expression taking over your face. You knew your feelings for the professor had changed; had felt the long dormant passion flare again but there was nothing to be done about it.

The pull of the spirits is intoxicating; you can feel their hands on your shoulders and arms, caressing your face, pulling you closer and closer – begging you to help them find peace, to answer their questions, to help pay the ferryman but you cannot.

A male voice shouting your name has you refusing the screams of the spirits.

The voice shouts again; it’s closer now, corporeal hands shake your shoulders in an attempt to pull you out of your trance, but there’s no luck.

The goddess bids you farewell before everything falls black.

----------

Your vision comes back to you slowly; black spots still dancing across your view of the vaulted ceiling of the hospital wing. You groan at the pounding in your head, bringing a hand up to rub at your forehead.

“(Y/N)?” A male voice asks; a familiar voice.

The feeling of a cool cloth being pressed to your forehead has you sighing in relief, “That feels nice.”

Neville’s face comes into view; his eyes run over your face, checking for what – you don’t know. “You’ve been in contact with higher powers – that’s why you asked for Black Henbane, isn’t it?”

You take the cool cloth from him, “I needed to see something.”

“You put yourself at risk doing this.” Neville bluntly states.

You groan, “I know.”

“Was it worth it?” He asks, narrowing his eyes, “Did you get your answers?”

You nod, averting your eyes – focusing on the vaulted ceiling rather than the man sitting next to you. Shame washes over you from the tone of his voice – reproach mixed with something akin to worry. You smile a little, “Neville Longbottom,” you tease, “Were you worried about me?”

“What was so important that you needed to contact higher powers? You know how addicting they can be!” He chides; ignoring your question completely.

You purse your lips, refusing to answer.

Neville leans forward in his chair, bracing his elbows on his knees, “What was so important?”

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“I was the one who found you, did you know that? I found you bent over your scrying bowl, talking to spirits and the higher powers. It was me who pulled you out before they could take something more permanent.”

“And I’m grateful for that, Neville.”

“But you won’t tell me why you had to consult them?”

You push yourself into a sitting position slowly; pausing only to stave off the wave of dizziness and nausea. Neville stands, his hands outstretched to help but you wave him away, telling him you’re okay. He doesn’t look like his believes you, but he steps back, nonetheless.

“I needed some answers about my future, about my feelings. It’s all so blurred, even my tea leaves don’t make sense!”

“So you decided to use your scrying bowl? (Y/N), you had trouble with this when we were students.”

“I’m surprised you remember.”

“Of course I remember, why wouldn’t I?”

“We weren’t exactly the best of friends.”

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t notice you.”

“You noticed me?”

“I always notice you, that’s how I found you. You asking for Black Henbane had me consulting my own textbooks and when I read it was used to help see the future more clearly, I followed you.”

You both lapse into a heavy, charged silence. Neville throws his hands in the air before setting them on his hips as he paces the two steps in front of your bed. You want to groan in frustration; want to scream and shout but it would do no good.

“What are we doing, Neville?” You finally ask, voice tired and head foggy.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean us. The pranks, the teasing, the unresolved tension.”

Neville sits back down, crossing his arms, “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

You pull the cloth from your forehead, glaring at the brunette, “Oh that’s a load of bullshit and you know it.”

He glares in return but doesn’t say a word.

“We have been dancing around this for years, Neville. I’m sick of having to pretend I hate you.”

“You don’t hate me?”

You shake your head, “You piss me the fuck off, but I don’t hate you.”

“I don’t hate you either.” He whispers.

“So what do we do?”

“Honestly, I’d like to take you out to dinner,” Neville states, confidence running through his body.

“Dinner?”

“What’s wrong with dinner?”

You bite your lip, running your eyes over him. He’s standing again, as if unable to sit still through this conversation. His eyes are bright with happiness and another emotion you can’t quite put your finger on; he’s entirely delectable. Merlin, in for a penny, as the muggles say, “How about we skip dinner and go to back to my rooms?”

Neville leans in close; his breath fanning over your face. He smells like recently mown grass, freshly fallen rain, and a hint of lime. It’s intoxicating. His eyes search yours for permission; you granting it as you tilt your face up to meet his, you close your eyes at his proximity, taking it all in. He lightly brushes his lips against yours, with a feather-light pressure that has you chasing him for more. He pulls away with a light chuckle at the look of frustration on your face.

“After dinner,” he promises.

The note of promise in his voice has your breath quickening and your toes curling. In the time that you had known this man, you had hated him but now, all you did was crave him.

His touch, his look, his attention. The goddess had promised you that there was no version of your future without him in it, and now...

And now, you were more than ready for that future.

“I’ll hold you to that.” You murmur, breathless from the thoughts running through your head.

---------

A month later:

Neville finds you in your classroom writing the information for your first lesson of the day on the board in chalk. He leans against the door as he closes it. Neville watches you; his eyes running over every curve and dip in your body, thinking of how less than twelve hours ago he was worshipping it with his mouth and hands. He bites down a groan at the memory; your gasps and moans echoing in his ear – he can still feel the dull ache of the scratches on his back, from your fingernails reaching for purchase.

He struts over to you; enjoying the surprised yelp that leaves your mouth as his arms wrap around your stomach, but he loves the way you soon relax into him, your hands coming to rest on top of his. Neville presses a kiss to the crook between your neck and ear, smirking against your skin as he hears your breath hitch.

Neville leans close, his mouth to your ear, “I’m going to have to teach you a lesson.”

You hum happily, arching into the touch of his hands as they trail lower, starting to undo the fastenings to your skirt.

You knew he would come; you’d played another prank on him, but this time you knew what the outcome would be.

You turn your face, pressing your lips to his cheek before trailing them across his jawbone, enjoying the look of your lipstick staining his skin. “What did you have in mind?” you whisper, breathless from the excitement coursing through your veins.

He smirks as he bends you face down over your desk.

*************

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @dreamer821 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes

#neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom #neville longbottom fanfic #neville longbottom x you #neville longbottom x y/n #enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers au #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #neville longbottom fanfiction #neville longbottom one shot #neville longbottom imagines #harry potter imagines #hp fanfiction #hp fanfic

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shihalyfie · 4 years ago

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02 and the question of “what a life is”

One topic more specific to 02 is the question of what exactly counts as being “alive”, which is initially brought up as a question when Ken discarding the Kaiser persona is directly caused by the revelation that he might have misjudged this, leading into the second half of the series where other issues reveal that it’s not as easy of a question as one thinks. In the end, 02 never gives a concrete answer about what constitutes the boundary between something that’s “alive” and “not alive” -- but, being a series that’s very much about pragmatism, gives a much clearer answer as to what one should do about it.

While it’s not named directly in the series itself (I’m not sure if this specific named concept was the intent, as it’s since expanded to become a fairly ubiquitous theme in sci-fi and fantasy overall), 02 deals heavily with a question related to a thought experiment called the “Chinese room problem”, which originated as a question related to artificial intelligence development and has since expanded into having philosophical and spiritual nuances (perhaps fittingly for Digimon Adventure, which is heavily about digital technology and sci-fi but mixes it with a lot of philosophical and spiritual imagery).

The Chinese room problem goes like this: let’s say you’re a person who has never learned, studied, or grown up with the Chinese language (or, really, any language you can’t understand or read; Chinese was only used as an example because the person explaining the thought experiment was using himself as an example and couldn’t read or understand it). You’re locked in a room that has a bunch of Chinese phrasebooks that give you instructions -- basically, they indicate common Chinese phrases, and sensible responses you can give to them (without actually translating it to a language you know). Someone slips you a piece of paper under the door with some Chinese phrases on them. You use the phrasebooks to write appropriate responses, and slip the paper back. The person outside the door reads the paper, sees what they gave you, and sees the response you gave them. It makes sense, of course, because the phrasebook told you to write an answer that made sense. But can you be said to actually understand Chinese? No, because you were just following instructions without actually understanding what they meant.

So let’s expand this to make it a bit more complicated: say you have an AI or a robot or something of the sort that accepts “input” -- people saying things to it, or showing it things -- and gives expected “responses” that seem sensible, through a bunch of complicated programs and processes in its programming. Can you say this robot is “alive”? One might say “no”, because, no matter how complicated and intricate it is, all of it is technically following a set of routine commands telling it to do certain things in response...or so you might say, but couldn’t you say the same thing about a human brain, which also takes input, processes it according to its own instructions (just caused by chemical processes instead of bytes and code), and creates output? After a certain point, this question is going to become far more of a philosophical, spiritual, and potentially even religious question than anything.

Adventure and 02 undoubtedly have a very spiritual element to it, given the heavy usage of Neoplatonic themes, the concept of “destiny” that hangs heavily over it, and the fact that Digimon themselves are heavily linked to spiritual things like Japanese youkai or other spirits and literally being part of the human soul. Digimon partners are treated as part of their partners’ human psyches, yet are also treated as individuals. And, in the end, it’s driven home that Digimon are made out of data -- but “digital technology” is treated as something that can communicate with such spiritual things. So here’s the question: At what point can a Digimon be called a living being?

Well, really, the first time this had really been brought up was the allusion to the issue in Adventure episode 20 -- when Taichi takes the revelation of the Digital World being a “digital” world a bit too literally and decides to treat it as a game, acting a bit too recklessly as a result. Koushirou himself buys into the theory of “real bodies” (which turns out to be false; this isn’t a Matrix situation where their bodies are sleeping somewhere, but they are actually being migrated here), but the point by the end of this episode is: just because everything is “data” doesn’t mean you get to treat it any less lightly. Do not treat the Digital World like a “game world” or something you can fiddle with at will.

Even if the technicals may make it seem like a computer, the reality of the situation is that everything you do has a permanent effect that you cannot instantly take back. It doesn’t matter what it’s “made” up out of; the issue is more about what you do, and the practical impact it has on what’s around you. (This will very important for later, so keep this in mind as we go.)

So by the time we get to 02, the first time this issue is brought up again is in 02 episode 20, when Ken, as the Kaiser, recognizes the kids’ Digimon Baby forms as the “plushies” he’d seen them carrying in real life during the soccer match back in 02 episode 8, which reveals a lot about his mentality in approaching the Digital World and Digimon -- he’d been under the impression that Digimon couldn’t leave it, apparently, and that they were therefore all part of a simulated game. Driving it in further is that Wormmon refers to the Digimon having “bodies” (as in, physical bodies), which trips Ken’s radar that there’s a lot more to this than he’d thought. There’s also a lot of evidence that Ken wasn’t just solely trying to buy into this concept for the sake of denial and self-justification; up until this point, he’d been noticeably hesitant to physically harm other humans, so he really did buy into there being a substantial difference here.

...But, funnily enough, we later learn in a flashback in 02 episode 23 that Ken didn’t necessarily always have this attitude of “Digimon aren’t living beings, so I get to do whatever I want with them” back during his original adventures with Wormmon in the Digital World. One could argue that maybe he “knew” that Digimon were alive back then and the Dark Seed just made him forget through trauma, but even Taichi hardly treated the Digimon badly back when he thought that everything was a “game” back in Adventure (rather, he was reckless with himself more than anything). Later in this very series, there’ll end up being a massive debate on what exactly constitutes a Digimon having a “soul”. No, the real issue is actually...

What tips Ken over the edge into discarding the Kaiser persona is empathy -- when he retroactively reflects on the implications of the Digimon being “alive” meaning that every single action he’d done had an impact on causing “pain” or “torture” on others. That’s why it didn’t matter so much to him back then, because he was willing to treat Wormmon with the respect of a living being, regardless of what he was made out of (and, really, humans are more likely to be kind to things than otherwise, even when they’re supposedly “artificial”; for an extreme example, see how people are inclined to treat their robotic vacuum cleaners like family members, or have a hard time picking rude choices in video games, and those are all things you have much less of an argument for there being any actual pain inflicted).

And, hence, the main reason why the kids rail so much on the Kaiser for suggesting the heresy of “resetting the Digital World”: because he’s treating something with the gravity of “reality” like it’s something he can just toy with for his own convenience. Who cares what it’s made up of? There are actual civilizations building a livelihood here and “living beings” that can feel pain or show emotion. Nobody ever gave the kids immediate knowledge that Digimon have souls or any higher answer like that -- it’s just that the Kaiser is a callous, unempathetic jerk who’s willing to toy with so many lives and living individuals for his own pleasure. And, most importantly, everything the Kaiser has done here is something he can’t take back, and has to accept the consequences of; this wasn’t a place where he could vent out his feelings of being unable to “take back” Osamu’s death and treat everything lightly.

It doesn’t actually matter what it’s made up of -- the fact is that they act like living beings, show obvious personal feelings and a propensity to feel pain, and thus have the right to be treated as such. If you’re practically able to observe this, then you should be respecting that.

Once Archnemon takes over the position as most prominent antagonist, the kids start dealing with her Dark Tower Digimon that she uses to indiscriminately destroy things. This initially creates a lot of confusion for the kids, especially when Ken and Stingmon so easily kill Thunderballmon and it looks to them like he’s gone right back into sadism after supposedly being reformed -- thus, this would provide an issue with Ken’s apparent lack of empathy if he’s allowed to keep going, because he (seemingly) hasn’t learned his lesson and will go on to keep hurting more victims.

When Golemon goes to destroy the dam, it’s repeatedly commented on how unusual it is for a Digimon to just go and destroy a dam for no reason except to ruin people’s lives -- even the enemies back in Adventure at least had a power-hungry motive, and the non-verbal “wild” ones back in File Island were ultimately territorial at worst, and certainly not interested in wanton destruction without reason. On top of that, in fact, only two people -- Iori and Miyako -- in this group of five are actually that vehemently in favor of trying to spare Golemon for the sheer reason of it being a living being -- Daisuke starts to consider the fact that it may become necessary to save potential victims before Ken is even brought into the picture, Takeru points out how close they are to push-coming-to-shove, and Hikari clearly laments the fact it may become possible but doesn’t take nearly of the strong “we absolutely cannot do this” stance that Iori and Miyako have. And, after all, Takeru and Hikari were there back in Adventure when killing some very sentient Digimon became necessary, and learned that it may be something you have to do if you want to prevent more victims, and Daisuke had personally been a victim of Vamdemon back in 1999 and also happens to be one of the most pragmatic in this group.

Thus, the reveal that Golemon is actually a Dark Tower Digimon confirms two things for them: firstly, that it’s very unlikely that Golemon is powered by anything but a sheer instinct of wanton destruction, and secondly, that Ken does, indeed, have a concept of empathy. The kids had already noticed that something was “unusual” about Golemon in that it seemed to be incapable of independent action, just an order to “mindlessly destroy”, and it being what the series refers to as “a Dark Tower in the shape of a Digimon” just happens to confirm that it may not actually be that capable of independent action or emotion -- which they then realize that Ken also realized, and thus that he wasn’t killing Digimon out of callousness. This is, also, effectively, the same reason they’d been okay with killing Chimeramon earlier -- because there was absolutely no evidence that it had been capable of sentient reason or anything besides “destruction on instinct”.

So, again: their judgment on the situation is based on a practical observation about whether the entity in question was capable of having emotions or independent thought, and, again, a question of empathy...

...because we learn that the same process, when applied to enough Dark Towers, is enough to create a Digimon who is capable of that kind of independent thought and doesn’t feel up to taking orders, regardless of whether Archnemon is his “creator” or not. So we’ve got a demonstration of a Digimon who’s clearly capable of independent thought in ways the other Dark Tower Digimon are not (he even voices “envy” for the other single-tower Digimon Archnemon creates for being unable to think about anything), and starts exhibiting irrational behavior and the concept of “emotions”.

Recall the issue of the Chinese room problem: if we’re talking about a room of phrasebooks that simply take one input and export output, you, in the middle of the room, can’t really be said to be “understanding” Chinese. But the more complex the inputs and expected outputs get, the more complicated and intricate and explanatory those phrasebooks are going to need to be, and at some point, given a complicated enough question you get, if you’re capable of answering that in the same way a human might be expected to, that information in the phrasebooks will have to be explanatory enough to an extent you’ll be said to understand Chinese. Exactly “how complicated” or “how nuanced” does a program get before we tip that boundary? Clearly there is some difference between BlackWarGreymon and the other Dark Tower Digimon, but what is it?

And when 02 episode 32 comes around and Agumon decides to have a little bonding chat with BlackWarGreymon, even he can't answer the question definitively as to what a "soul" or “heart” is -- nobody in this narrative can, and this series has no answer. There’s no real clear-cut rule as to the boundary as to when one can be considered sentient. But while Agumon may not be able to immediately yank out deep philosophy, he at least has a deep level of insight and understanding as to what it means -- you have feelings for others, you have emotions, you have things you want that aren’t necessarily what others expect you to do, and you can bring your own perspective to the table.

The debate over what to do with this also leads to the rift between Takeru and Iori that they have to work towards mending during their Jogress arc -- Takeru’s trauma regarding Patamon in Adventure has spiraled him all the way over into prejudice against anything related to the darkness, and Iori, who understands there’s more to the situation than that, but also happens to be on the other extreme of considering it immoral to kill anything regardless of whether it’s about to murder a ton of other victims while it’s at it.

Ultimately, Adventure and 02 is a narrative that prioritizes “pragmatism” first, and the moment it’s made clear BlackWarGreymon isn’t going to cause problems anymore, the kids all decide it’s fine to let him be. In the end, whether BlackWarGreymon is “alive” is a philosophical question, but...

...whether they should hold back in fighting just to “spare lives” really has no bearing on that question. Enemies like LadyDevimon and the other Digimon the kids are ultimately forced to end up fighting are clearly alive with their own emotions -- it’s just that those emotions do happen to be uncontrolled sadism and an active desire for wanton destruction. Miyako herself even observes that LadyDevimon is a “coward” -- but she’s also still emotionally torn by the fact they end up killing her, and the story also doesn’t give her grief for this, because there’s no sin for her to have empathy. She recognized what it meant to kill a life, but they also cannot be blamed for taking that life in the process of saving multiple others. The issue of “whether it’s alive or not” had always been a separate question from the morality of fighting said lives -- and, either way, it’s still valuable that characters like Hikari, Miyako, and the other Chosen Children aren’t necessarily doing this because they like doing it, because it’s still important to keep that feeling of “empathy” in their hearts, even if push did ultimately come to shove.

So when BlackWarGreymon does return, again, nobody has an answer for him on whether he has a soul or not, but in 02 episode 47, Agumon, V-mon, and Wormmon encourage him to embrace the concept of life by “experiences” -- happiness, sadness, pain, playing and enjoying life with those you care about. Because those experiences are “real”, and Agumon himself says that “those experiences have made me who I am”; regardless of the higher philosophical question of whether he has a soul or not, he’s still someone who’s capable of having experiences and acting based on his memory of them, and that’s what’s really important. And hence, when BlackWarGreymon sacrifices himself one episode later, it’s because he understands the meaning of “doing something for others”, and is also implicitly mourned by the other Digimon, who had never failed to see him as “someone they could have befriended”, regardless of what he had originally been made up of.

It’s also why the kids are so traumatized by Archnemon and Mummymon’s deaths in 02 episode 48 -- they had no reason to be personally attached to them prior to that, and Archnemon had even said that her personal goals were nothing but wanton destruction in 02 episode 29 (which had been the first time Iori had really considered that pacifism may not be completely possible here). All of the wacky hijinks between the two of them had largely been outside of their view. But even back in 02 episodes 36-37, the kids had understood that there was some degree that they were harmless if left alone, and in the end, they watched Archnemon die in unambiguous pain and Mummymon die in the name of true love, by dying in a suicide attack because of his despair over losing her.

Archnemon and Mummymon had ultimately turned out to be “artificial lives” on their own, created at the hands of Oikawa to be his minions, and also somewhat guided by “wanton destruction” and not entirely fully aware of what they wanted to do independent of him -- BlackWarGreymon’s existential crisis had caused them to question their place in the world in 02 episode 47...and quickly shrug it off again. Could you say anything about whether they were alive or not, or whether they had souls? Perhaps it doesn’t really matter -- whether or not they were able to fully have deep thought the same way BlackWarGreymon and the other Digimon had, they at the very least were able to feel attachment and pain, and that alone deserved to be respected.

In the end, you could say that’s 02′s answer -- or non-answer -- to the Chinese room problem. You may not be able to answer the intrinsic philosophical question of whether it’s got a “soul” or is “alive” or not, but if it’s clearly demonstrating an observable and practical phenomenon of showing emotions, acting on some degree of independent will, taking in experiences and acting on them, and being able to feel a sense of pain, then you should still treat it with the appropriate amount of empathy -- regardless of what it’s made out of.

Incidentally, we do actually get a very small revisiting of this topic in Kizuna, when Menoa creates a ton of Eosmon by “scientific” methods -- and, much like the Dark Tower Digimon, they’re not recognized as living beings by anyone in this narrative, because their behavior is clearly that of mindlessly following Menoa’s orders; Yamato won’t consider it a Digimon, and Menoa herself even acknowledges that this is in no way a real “partner” like her true one, Morphomon. What does get Menoa to recognize Morphomon within Eosmon is when it does one thing -- smile -- that’s clearly outside that view, and an obvious show of independent emotion, leading Menoa to realize that her true, living partner may be closer than she’d thought.

#digimon #digimon adventure 02 #kizuna spoilers #shihameta

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the-interviewer · 3 years ago

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Rules

1. This blog is for an alternate universe version of my DA, heavily inspired by Markiplier (Mark Fischbach) and his work Who Killed Markiplier?, along with the markcu overall. I am not affiliated with Mark and all characters of the markcu belong to him. Not all lore will be accounted for simply because I cannot keep track of it. Other Egos or characters Mark has created may be referenced here, but responses may vary (ie there’ll likely be a lot of Wilford since this DA works with/for him). However, the sole focus of this blog is for this version of the DA.

2. Under NO CIRCUMSTANCES is straight up NSFW/18+ content permitted. Suggestive or just jokes can be fine, but if it’s too strong or makes me uncomfortable, I will delete the ask. Use your own discretion.

3. The main form of interaction on this blog is asks. You can send in asks directed at the DA themself, or simply theorizing about them. Imagines, headcanons, drabbles, short dialogues, and much more are also accepted. All OOC remarks will be surrounded by brackets [these things] and will be tagged accordingly. I only allow reblog threads with people I know or give permission to. All threads are discussed beforehand. Specific note about this blog: The DA is aroace and in a queerplatonic relationship with two other characters, Wilford Warfstache and Rose (my friend’s character; @fortuna-della-vedova), so any romantic asks are completely out the window unless they are about Damien. Asking for queerplatonic content with the interview trio is fine though. Cheers!

4. Anonymous asks or asks without specific indication otherwise will be addressed in second person with gender neutral terms. If you want to send in an ask as your own character or specify further details about your version of Y/N (anything you’d like potentially referenced somehow in the response or future ones), do not hesitate to do so!

5. I will attempt to tag any triggering content, but if something slips by me, do not hesitate to let me know. However, I will likely not tag content that reoccurs in WKM and the markcu as a whole simply because that would not make sense if you’ve made it this far. There will be some body horror simply because this DA can take whatever head they’re wearing and replace it with other items if they so please.

6. I have every right to delete any ask I want at any time without explanation. If this is because your ask made me uncomfortable, I may create a “do not ask” list in order to prevent this from happening again. If you think your ask got deleted, do not hesitate to send in a different one! However, Tumblr does hate me and likes to hide asks, so don’t immediately jump to the idea that I deleted it. As said before, please use your discretion and remember that there is an actual person behind the screen.

7. Any anons who wish to be identified later on may sign off their asks as they see fit, and will be given a tag to match. If you want to know whether or not a sign-off has already been taken, just ask and I will try find out.

8. You also may recognize a couple of my other markcu-related blogs such as @invinciblefixation (my general markcu blog) and @sisyphean-ibex (a blog for another alternate universe version of my DA). Honestly, at this point I should make an blog for my prime DA. It just might happen!

9. My tagging system is a work in progress, but so far it is as what follows:

#a short interview; - for asks

#and here we have… someone!; - for anons

#behind the scenes; - for ooc posts

#a break in our regularly scheduled program; - for my content that isn’t necessarily asks/roleplay (written work, art, etc)

#the interviewer; - content about this DA

#strawberry split delight; - content containing Wilford Warfstache

#sweet dreams tennessee; - content containing Rose

#in another time; - content containing Damien

#all too familiar a face; - content containing Darkiplier

#of grandeur and assholery; - content containing Actor

#an old friend of mine; - content containing Yancy

#splendid guests; - any other Egos

#our special guest star; - for any reblogged creations that aren’t mine

#roleplay thread; - pretty self-explanatory

#behind the scenes;#rules of conduct #[vibrates in excitement]

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animebw · 4 years ago

Text

Okay.

I realize I’ve been really bad at sticking to my schedule lately. Like, really bad. I’m going days between binge posts, often with no explanation or warning. That’s not fair to you guys, and I’m sorry. So let me talk a little about what’s going on, and what’s gonna happen going forward.

As many of you probably know already, I’m planning on bidding this blog goodbye pretty soon. I’ll still do One Piece updates and seasonal reflections, maybe even a few reviews here and there, but my main binge-watch analysis will stop. Why? Short version, life goes on, and I’m ready to move on to the next chapter. It’s just a matter of how long.

Originally, I planned to make my end date around the time I head over to China to start my new job. But lately, I’ve been so busy with other things that it’s been difficult to find the time or energy to keep up with this blog. For one thing, I’ve started working on a webcomic! Prepare to get more information about that as time goes on; I’ve been working on this story for a few years, and I’m so excited to finally get it out in the world. However, because I’m commissioning an artist to help me draw it (I cannot draw to save my life), I’ve had to start working more shifts at my job to make sure I can keep paying him for his incredible work. This week in particular will be the closest to a 9-to-5 work week I’ll have experienced in a long time. And with that much going on... yeah, my enthusiasm to spend upwards of three hours a day watching and analyzing a chunk of anime has been hard to come by.

Honestly, I think this is my mind’s way of telling me that it’s time to start closing shop. I’m already moving on to the next stage of my life, and my schedule and priorities have to adjust to reflect that. If I force myself to stick with this blog until some arbitrary end date, I’ll only me forcing myself, and that wouldn’t be fair to me or you. Plus, I’ll likely be heading to China pretty soon anyway, so it’s not like there’ll be that much time difference.

So. With that in mind, you can consider this your official warning: The end of The Anime Binge-Watcher is almost upon us.

What can you expect moving forward? Well, I’ll still finish Hyouka and Legend of the Galactic Heroes, and they’ll likely be the last shows I watch for this blog. After that, I think it’s finally time to bite the bullet and check out the Evangelion Rebuild films. Now that the last one’s finally out (and pretty well-received, from what I’ve heard), I’ve got no excuse to hold out on them any longer. And last, but not least, I’ll finish up Gintama, first by re-watching a bit of the final arc to get myself up to speed, then onto the Semi-Final, and then the final movie itself.

And then... it’ll be time to say goodbye.

I’ll save my sappiest thoughts until that final post. For now, I just want to say: thank you all so goddamn much for the past three years. You’ve made writing for this blog a truly once-in-a-lifetime experience. And I look forward to sharing these final moments with you all.

Best wishes,

The Anime Binge-Watcher

#anime #the anime binge-watcher #tabw #schedule

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flutteringdreams-matw · 4 years ago

Text

Out of Time (7)

First/Last

Read on AO3

Word Count: 6357

Previously: Danny and Dan clash in the Ghost Zone

Now: What everyone else was doing during the fight, some exposition, angst and answers. Did I mention some angst?

Bonus chapter since I'm feeling generous! Link to the next chapter will be in the replies once posted. As always - please let me know what you think!

---

"Danny!" Maddie yelled as she saw her son's transformation. Sam and Jazz turned around quickly at her outburst. "Wait!" It was too late; Danny dove into the portal, completely unaware of her pleas.

Sam gaped at the almost empty side of the lab; Clockwork – who apparently arrived in the commotion –hovered on the ground, red eyes watching the swirling portal with apprehension. "Why didn't you stop him!" the Goth yelled.

Clockwork turned to her, eyes narrowing at her tone. "It is not my place to alter his decisions. Danny made his choice."

Sam opened her mouth to argue, but Ethelwulf stepped forward, putting a large claw on her shoulder. "He's right – let's do what we can to help him hmm?" Ethelwulf walked past her, yellow eyes filled with burning questions for the Time Master. Clockwork said nothing more. Ethelwulf sighed, but stood ready to fight whatever would come through the portal.

Maddie, observing the interaction, finally snapped out of her disbelief as she determinedly went back to the control panel. Jack and Tucker were bantering back and forth about various codes and systems about the Fento-drones as her violet eyes glanced up at the tracker. She could see Danny flying toward the threat, stopping only once as he interacted with the first ghost he saw. The exchange only lasted two minutes before he took off again, flying deeper into the Ghost Zone. "Jazz – you and Sam get the containment field ready," Maddie told her daughter, a plan quickly coming to mind. "Jack- release those Fento-drones as soon as they're ready okay? We need eyes on what Danny's facing."

"Oh, we'll have more than eyes Mrs. F," Tucker said smugly. He connected the control pad onto the main system, finishing the connection before switching it on. Bright lights flickered as two robots flew from the walls, zooming through the air before dashing into the portal. The screens lit up in green as both robots turned their cameras on, giving two different viewpoints of the action. As the robots flew deeper into the zone, Maddie gasped, pointing toward the screen.

"Damn – we've got incoming!" she yelled, grabbing an ecto-gun from her belt and turned to face the first ghost out of the portal.

She nearly dropped the gun when the blue skinned Box Ghost popped into her lab. He looked around widely, desperately looking for something before his red eyes found Maddie. He turned back toward the portal. "This way! Head for the town!" he yelled into the portal, before flying directly toward Maddie. "Ghost Child's parents!" he exclaimed, moving his hands widely. "I have a message for you!"

Maddie's eyes narrowed as Sam yelled from around of the containment chamber. "Is it from Danny?"

"Yes! It is from the Ghost Child!" he yelled. Maddie winced at the volume but gestured for him to continue. Ghosts started to flood the portal, flying up out of the lab in one fluid movement. "He said to close the portal when we get through. Head to the town just like the Ghost King!" He said nothing more, turning intangible and up through the ceiling of the lab.

Jack grunted in confirmation from his position at the console. "Danny must have a plan," he said, monitoring the Fento-drone's path through the Zone. In the distance, he saw a black and white blur racing away from where they were currently. "There! I've got eyes on him."

Tucker frowned, looking over from his screen to Jack's. "I'm switching mine to manual," he said, typing into the computer before manoeuvring the controls. The Fento-Drone he piloted jerked slightly, but steadied itself as it changed its path to follow the half-ghost. His frown deepened as he realized that it was going top speed, but was hardly moving quickly at all. "Mr. Fenton – these are still super slow."

Jack cringed, rubbing the back of his neck slightly. "I didn't have a chance to test drive these puppies after I added the weapons system," he admitted, also changing his Fento-Drone to manual. "But they pack quite a punch!"

Tucker groaned in frustration, but continued to try following Danny past the multitude of ghosts.

Sam frowned, watching her friend pilot the Fenton's machine almost like he was in a RPG game. "Any sign of Dan?" she asked worriedly, holding one panel of the containment chamber open. Jazz's head shot up at the mention of the name but said nothing.

Tucker sighed, sagging slightly. "No, and we lost Danny too," he replied glumly.

As the last of the big wave of ghosts came through and into the town, Frostbite came through the portal, landing on the metal floor with a loud thud. "Mighty Fentons!" he greeted quickly, before turning his attention to Ethelwulf and Clockwork with a frown. "The Great One told me to seek you out. He's gone after Skulker and Ember."

"Skulker!?" Jazz asked, confused. "Why would he go after him?"

Frostbite looked at the red head. "Skulker and Ember volunteered to stay behind when our ice blockade fell. The Great One wanted to help." He turned his large furry head to Ethelwulf, locking eyes with the friend. "It's started, hasn't it."

Ethelwulf moved to answer, but Clockwork responded instead. "Yes," the Time Master replied, reaching inside his cloak. "And we must act quickly." He pulled out six of his time medallions, gesturing to Frostbite. "Here – one for all of you. Ethelwulf – keep yours close. " Clockwork held a tighter grip on his time staff as he moved toward the humans slowly. "I cannot control Time anymore. With these, you'll be able to move freely."

Frostbite took a medallion, throwing it over his head as he observed the lab around him. "I see," he said solemnly, taking the remaining medallions from Clockwork, passing them out to the humans. His eyes found Ethelwulf's, nodding in an unspoken agreement. As he came to Jack and Maddie, Frostibite gave them a toothy grin. "You will need to shut the portal as soon as the Great One returns –there'll be little time before the Monster follows."

Jack and Maddie looked at each other, concerned, but nodded nonetheless.

Tucker made a noise at the console, making everyone turn their attention to the boy. "There's something coming toward us!" he cried, zooming the camera in to try and get a better image. Maddie moved over her husband's shoulder, looking at both her husband's screen and Tucker's. "It looks like…. Ember?"

Maddie frowned as she recognized the fiery blue hair from her takeover of Amity a few months ago. She was being carried by a robotic ghost, recognizing him from Danny's ghost files. Both looked a little worse for wear. "Danny's not with them," she noted, watching the two ghosts zip past the two Fento-drones toward the portal.

"I think he's up ahead," Tucker said, moving closer to the screen. "I see a few explosions in the distance."

Jack's face paled slightly as he watched a particularly large explosion occur across the screen. "Let's head toward it then," he replied, flying directly in the line of fire.

Both drones moved further into the Ghost Zone, noticing the destruction around them.

"Whoa," Sam said from somewhere over Tucker's shoulder. Somewhere in the commotion, both girls had moved back toward the console.

"Dan did all this?" Maddie whispered. Her mouth grew dry as she noticed the flying debris. "Aren't those all realms?"

"What's left of them," Frostbite confirmed grimly, turning back to the portal.

There was a bit of movement before Skulker flew out of the portal, clutching an unconscious Ember in his arms. He looked at Frostbite helplessly, before he collapsed out of the air onto the floor. "Help her," he said, shaking her gently. Frostbite moved toward the newcomers quickly, trying to assess what he could do to help.

Ethelwulf growled at the scene. "I'm going after him," the black wolf said, running toward the portal. "I'm not leaving him in there."

"Stop," Clockwork commanded. His voice made Ethelwulf pause. "He needs to do this without your help."

"Are you blind Clockwork?" Ethelwulf asked viciously. He gestured to Skulker and Ember being helped by Frostbite in the corner. "We cannot let him fend for himself – he's already compromised."

Clockwork sighed, red eyes scanning the room. "He made his decision," Clockwork repeated. "I'm inclined to trust his judgement."

"There!" Jack yelled, pointing along the screen. Two blurs of black and white gained speed, the smaller of the two disappearing and reappearing closer to the Fento-drones. "He's headed back."

"Not alone!" Jazz exclaimed, watching the bigger ghost speed up slightly. "Mom, the portal!"

Maddie nodded, getting to her place at the main console. "Standing by – as soon as Danny gets through, we'll close it."

The humans and ghosts watched closely, waiting with baited breath as the half-ghost kept teleporting away. As Danny teleported again, Dan also disappeared, reappearing in the same spot as the younger ghost. Dan slammed Danny against the rock, a white glove reaching around the boy's neck. They all gasped, watching Danny's legs thrash as he tried to break free.

"Tucker – do something!" Sam yelled desperately.

The techno-geek's hands moved quickly, steering his drone toward the fight. Danny started to slow down, legs relaxing as he gasped for air. "Eat this!" Tucker cried, pressing a small red button on the controller. The Fento-Drone opened a hatch on the bottom side, releasing an ecto-gun. It charged green energy for a few seconds before launching a powerful stream of energy at the evil ghost. It hit its target, freeing Danny from his grip. The young half ghost coughed, regaining himself before the floated up to the two drones.

"Thank you, Fento-Drones!"

A collective sigh of relief made its way through the lab as Danny froze Dan and made his way back. The Fento-drones hovered in place, watching the young ghost speed off toward the portal before they floated back to the frozen Phantom left behind. Dan rattled under the ice, steam coming through the barrier.

Maddie and Jack looked between the images from the drones and the radar showing Danny's status to the portal anxiously. As the evil ghost melted his prison, Jack stared at the blue skinned ghost. Danny had told them about Dan – but they weren't prepared for how much the spectre truly looked like their son. He found Maddie's unsure expression, the shock getting to her also. He turned back to the screen, suddenly very angry at the ghost in front of him. His large hands curled around his controller, pressing his weapons system also. "Bonzaii!" He yelled, flying straight for Dan. Tucker followed suit, both Fento-drones attacking Dan with various Ghost Rays.

"Really?" Dan sneered into the camera of a drone. "My parents' dumb inventions?" He dodged them skilfully. "I wonder who's behind this little plan?" Dan roared in anger, releasing a series of ecto-energy toward both attacking robots. The attack hit Tucker's Fento-drone, sending it tumbling into one of the rocks. Tucker tried manoeuvring it out of the stone or attack, but the small robot was unresponsive.

"I've been hit!" Tucker cried out.

Dan grabbed the drone piloted by Jack from the air. His snarling face filled the screen as he laughed, ripping the robot into two pieces. The camera went dark on the one screen. All eyes turned to the radar, eying that Danny was so close to the portal, but had also stopped. The figure behind him barrelled through the zone, heading right for him.

"I still have eyes!" Tucker told the onlookers, trying to zoom in from his trapped bot. People crowded around him, seeing large flickers of light flash across it. "What the-" he started to mutter as the lab was once again illuminated with white light. Humans and ghosts whirled around; Danny was on his hands and knees in front of the portal, panting as large blue and white sparks flowed through his small frame.

"Danny!" his friends and family called out.

The white haired ghost shook his head. "The portal!" he barked, biting his lip as his body contorted in agony. Ethelwulf attempted to move toward the injured teen, concerned, but Clockwork grabbed his paw.

Maddie hit the button, closing the portal. Danny relaxed slightly as the portal doors closed in front of him, sparks still moving through him. He managed to sit on his legs, breathing heavily as he glanced around the lab. Finally, his gaze rested on Skulker, Frostbite and Ember. Skulker's green eyes were wide at the young ghost in front of him. "Hide here," he told the surprised hunter tiredly. "Blend in, don't cause trouble. Should be safe." He grimaced as the sparks increased moving his hands outward to grip onto the ground.

Frostbite stood up, moving away from Skulker and Ember; the latter had just seemed to start to come to. "Great One – those sparks are attacking your core!" He exclaimed worriedly, moving toward Danny. The yeti ghost stopped as a set of large blue energy sparked outward from the teen. Frostbite's eyes widened with disbelief. "Wait… that's not raw energy."

Ethelwulf stopped pulling against Clcokwork at Frostbite's words, turning his gaze quickly to the young boy. The sparks were increasing now, more blue than white. Danny's green eyes were shut tightly, trying to regain any composure he could. "It's not core energy either," Ethelwulf said soflty, yellow eyes widening as he also realized it.

"What are you two talking about?!" Sam yelled worriedly. Danny's eyes flew open, pupils rapidly changing colours between green and blue. The sparks started to form a dome around Danny as he started to stare into space. "Danny!"

"It's time energy," Clockwork confirmed. His red eyes looked pitifully at the young ghost in front of him, who had gotten eerily quiet. Ethelwulf moved to Danny, dodging the sparks that seemed to want to protect the boy. "Time has stopped."

All the humans looked at each other, slightly confused. Clockwork gestured to the corner of the lab and they were startled to find Skulker and Ember, frozen in place. Danny's body tensed as Ethelwulf got towards him, seemingly unaware of the sparks of energy attacking his body.

"Hello Danny."

Everyone jumped as the heart stopping voice came through the main console. As Tucker turned around, he gasped; Dan was staring right into the camera, smiling smugly.

"Let me guess, Tucker and Sam are probably there too." Tucker, Sam and Jazz all looked at each other worriedly. "Maybe even my meddling older sister." He moved closer to the screen. "You probably think you've won with that little trick of yours." Dan split himself in two, not breaking eye contact with the camera. "But I have tricks of my own." The duplicate's hand lit up green, creating a portal before it flew into it and disappeared. The Phantom on the screen then turned around, and released a large ecto-blast toward the portal. It hit Danny's second shield, making his body twitch as he sank deeper to the ground. "You don't think these shields will hold me for long? I wanted to divide your attention." A shrill beep sounded, causing Maddie to pull up the scanner around the town. A large mass of ecto-energy was blasted across the shield. Maddie and Jack paled as they locked eyes at severity of the attack. "One of them will break eventually." Danny's body twitched again, back arching as he continued to stare off into space.

The Phantom outside of the town suddenly disappeared as the Phantom on screen stopped his attack. "I will break you Danny," Dan sneered. "You and your promises won't save your world." His body glowed dark green, before various shadows started to appear behind him. "I can create a shadow army to attack day and night – but where's the fun in that?" He paused, floating backward as shadows continued to appear behind him. "I'll give you a sporting chance. You have thirty-six hours." Dan's hand lit up in green ecto-energy before the screen went dark.

As the screen went black, Danny's body contorted strangely one last time before it fell limply to the ground. Ethelwulf knelt beside the boy, concerned as he transformed back in his human half. The lab was silent as blue sparks continued to move through the fallen boy.

:-=-:

When Danny woke up, he was dismayed to learn that he had passed out and landed him in the infirmary again. He sat up slowly, groaning at the massive headache throbbing through his brain.

His heart felt like it was ripped out of his chest multiple times. How could they just be gone?

Danny gasped, groaning as images flew across his mind. Sparks started to flow up and down his core. "You know," he muttered, doubling over in pain, "I'm really getting tired of this."

Vlad was saying something. He definitely paid someone off – but he couldn't seem to care anymore. They were gone and he couldn't save them. He deserved to live with Vlad.

Danny gasped again, feeling slightly sick as he realized what he was seeing. He buried his eyes in the palms of his hands, stifling a cry of pain as sparks continued to wrack his frame.

"Come now Daniel, this is for the best," Vlad told him. He felt cold icy rage fill his entire body as the man came closer. The jerk at least had the decency to look sympathetic. "I don't want you to have to hide anymore. Going with your aunt would only hurt you more." Danny felt himself nodding.

"Stop," Danny whimpered, pressing his hands into his face a little harder. "I don't want to see this." He heard the door to the infirmary open, soft footsteps turned frantic as someone called his name. He groaned in response, causing the newcomer to rub his back soothingly.

"You're alright sweetie," his Mom whispered from above him. "They're just Time Visions. They'll pass."

He was angry. Everything was wrong – if they weren't alive then he didn't deserve to be either. If he was a ghost all the time, he would've saved them. His memory of that day drifted back as bile rose in his throat. Never again.

Danny bit back an angry sob as frustration washed over him. "Make it stop," he pleaded, hands moving to his head as he gripped his hair harshly.

Maddie stopped rubbing his back and instead hugged her son closer. "You can get through them Danny," she encouraged quietly. "Clockwork said these are just residual visions from your clash with Dan. Whatever you're seeing is part of an alternate timeline. It's not real."

He hadn't spoken to Vlad since arriving. It's been a week since he had to live with him. Three weeks since the Nasty Burger. All the condolences, people who insist they'll be there for him. They need to feel what he felt; The rage, the helplessness, the grief. If his loved ones were dead – then the world will feel his wrath. Green eyes burned as he looked Vlad in the face.

Danny gasped as the final vision left him. He sat up slowly, vaguely aware that he was shaking and clammy before he managed to look at his mother. Maddie watched him, slowly brushing his hair back with her hand. "You're alright now," she said lovingly as he stared at her with wide eyes, not quite believing she was in front of him. "Yesterday was rough for all of us."

Danny swallowed, nodding in confirmation. He looked down, suddenly feeling self-conscious and ashamed as his memory came back to him. Maddie frowned, but didn't comment at his movement. Instead, she patted his leg affectionately and leaned toward the bedside table.

"You must be hungry – you haven't eaten since you woke up yesterday," she said, grabbing a couple sandwiches. Danny realized that she must have brought them with her. "Sam and Tucker will be here soon. After your second battle with Dan, time energy moved through you continuously and then you just collapsed. The shield you put up to protect the portal was apparently interacting with the time energy, so Ethelwulf put one up. He said you should take yours down so you can focus on the one around the town. Frostbite and his people are here to help – and even Skulker's agreed to help keep the ghosts in line!" She handed him the plate. "Here."

Danny took it from her, staring at it absently as it sat in front of him. Maddie came back beside him, staring at him worriedly. After a few moments of silence, she sighed, settling in closer to her son.

"Danny," she said gently. "You can't bottle these visions up. Clockwork said you were being attacked by time energy – left from the time medallion being fused inside you. Those sparks aren't from your raw energy; it's time attacking your core. These visions are all from moments in time that you aren't supposed to see."

"They can keep them," Danny said bitterly, still not looking at his mother. "I don't want them."

Maddie gave him a sympathetic smile as she continued. "Don't you trust us?" she asked.

Danny looked up quickly. "Of course I trust you!" he exclaimed. His mother raised her eyebrow at him. "Mom," he said earnestly, "I wouldn't have made it through this without you and Dad. I trust you guys completely."

"Then why did you neglect to tell us that Dan was made up of Plasmius' ghost too?" she asked him pointedly. Danny looked away again. Maddie sighed, softening her tone slightly. "Why are you shutting everyone out?"

Danny sighed. "I don't mean to," he said quietly. "I just… I'm afraid I guess."

Maddie looked at her fifteen year old son, looking tired and defeated with a frown. "Of turning into him?" she asked.

Danny shook his head. "Not anymore," he told her. "I promised that I would never turn into him. It's all the other stuff I'm afraid of. I don't want to lose you guys." He clenched his fist in frustration.

Maddie nodded, putting a hand over his. "It must be scary, having to relive it."

Danny looked at her desperately. "Do you have any idea Mom? Any idea how hard it is looking at that ghost and thinking that was me? How one stupid mistake keeps coming back to haunt you and can make the world just crumble around you?" A tear fell onto their joined hands. "Reliving it for months on end and now actually seeing how much it took to get to that point? Everything… it was all my fault."

Silence descended on the pair as quiet tears continued to fall, mother and son looking at each other. Eventually, Maddie reached over and wiped a tear away from his face. "You are not Dan," she told him fiercely. "There may have been a point where you would become him, but you beat him. With Clockwork's help you saved us. You may see these images from time to time Danny, but you are stronger than him."

"You don't understand," he mumbled, looking away again.

"Oh really?" Maddie asked him. "Because I definitely know what it feels like to look one of your mistakes in the face every time there's a ghost attack on this town. How one faulty blueprint caused my fourteen year old son to become a half-ghost hybrid and lie to me for almost a year. To watch him carry such heavy burdens on his shoulders like the world would end if he messed up – and that it was my fault."

Danny cringed heavily. "Mom – I didn't mean," he sputtered. "I never-"

Maddie held up her hand. "I know sweetie," she told him gently. "I know you don't blame me -or your father. And regardless of how it happened, your ghost powers are not a mistake. How can I argue with anything you've done?" She smiled at him. "You're a hero Danny but that doesn't mean you have to deal with this on your own. Regardless of the battles you've faced, any horrors you've seen – you're still my fifteen year old space loving teenager. We're here for you sweetheart."

"You're mother's right kiddo," Jack boomed from the door. Danny and Maddie both turned, seeing the orange jumpsuit wearing man smiling kindly at his wife and son. He walked over to the pair; sitting on Danny's other side. "Now that we've seen what we're up against, it's time to put these fears behind you. You won't be alone. Everyone here is going to fight with you Danny. We'll be ready for him."

Danny beamed at his parents, forgetting everything about time visions and prophecies. They were right – he wasn't alone. They were going to figure out a way to beat Dan, together. "Then let's get to work."

:-=-:

Skulker paced in the air, frowning. Ember was recovering slowly, resting from the battle -The battle that the ghost child saved them from. The ghost hunter growled at that. Who did Phantom think he was? Flying in like that, rescuing them from that…other Phantom. Skulker stopped his pacing, lost in thought.

Even Skulker had to admit it; if any ghost stood a chance against that abomination, it'd be Danny Phantom. The halfa took down Pariah Dark! But this foe… he said he was the Ghost child. After Danny Phantom passed out – almost out of the blue- Skulker watched the human hunters gather close to the boy, talking about time energy and visions.

It wasn't until he saw Clockwork that he realized how important this battle must be. No one ever goes up against the Master of Time – let alone cross him. If the abomination went against the Time Master, and Clockwork has aligned himself with the boy, this ghost must be a force to be reckoned with. Skulker left quickly after that – his priority being Ember and the rest of the ghosts hiding throughout the town. Let Clockwork and the whelp deal with this ghost. He was perfectly content to avoid the next battle while hiding out at his human hunting store.

"Skulker."

The robotic ghost stopped pacing, turning to face Plasmius' crossed arm glare. Plasmius floated a little higher from the ground, glaring down at Skulker with his beady red eyes.

"Plasmius," Skulker greeted.

Plasmius grinned, flying down to Skulker's level. "I heard there were ghosts hiding in my town," he told his employee.

"The Zone was threatened," Skulker said simply.

"Ah yes," Plasmius replied, waving a hand. "I heard from the Fentons. They want me to secure the town and grant you all sanctuary. I had a different proposition for you."

"No."

Plasmius' eyes widened. "No?" he repeated incredulously. "Come now Skulker, this is a perfect opportunity to strike. While Daniel is busy with whatever threat he believe is out there, we can use this as-"

"No," Skulker repeated firmly. "Plasmius – this ghost is not to be trifled with."

Plasmius scoffed. "Please, the only ghost that can get me rattled is the Ghost King, and no one has made that mistake again. Not after last time."

Skulker shook his head. "Whoever attacked us had no remorse, no reason. He was cold, calculating and precise in any movement he did," Skulker explained. Plasmius started to pace, Skulker watching him anxiously before he continued. "He destroyed multiple realms with this… wailing cry." Plasmius stopped pacing, looking at Skulker with wide eyes.

"A wail?" Plasmius asked slowly. "Skulker, please don't tell me whoever you're afraid of doesn't have the same attack as Daniel?"

"Worse," Skulker replied bitterly, shuddering slightly. "If it wasn't for the whelp, Ember and I wouldn't have escaped. Even he could not stop him. The boy's allies said they had over a day to prepare for an attack – less now."

Plasmius looked at him for a moment, thoughts racing through his brain. Skulker waited as his occasional employer seemingly came to a decision and schooled his face with a smile. "Very well," he said smartly, taking flight again. "Hide away here Skulker – I won't stop you."

Skulker watched as Plasmius disappeared, letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He stared down toward the attic of the hunting store. "If Clockwork has aligned himself with the Ghost Child, then we must too," Skulker said out loud. He grimaced slightly. "Why can't I just hunt easy prey?"

:-=-:

Danny closed the door of his bedroom, leaning his forehead against the door with a sigh. After a bit of training earlier in the day, a small planning session with friends and multiple interruptions by the Box Ghost, he had wanted to clear his head a bit. He could hear the mumble of voices from the various ghosts in the house, but up here seemed like a dead zone. Deciding to join the party, he walked down the hall towards the steps before he stopped, surprised; Sam was standing at the bottom of the stairs, lost in thought and frowning at… old family photos?

Danny frowned, curious as he started to go down the stairs. "Hey," he greeted from halfway down the stairs. Sam jumped slightly, before smiling back at him. She hadn't even noticed.

"Hey yourself," she replied. Forgoing the rest of the stairs, Danny jumped the rail and landed beside her. "Show off," she said, rolling her eyes.

"We're in the middle of a paradox here, there's no time to waste," Danny told her, a goofy smile on his face.

"I'm sure the world wouldn't end if you walked down the remaining five stairs."

"On the contrary, we don't know if could. Thought I'd take my chances."

Sam scoffed, crossing her arms, but a playful smile danced across her lips as he came up beside her. She was back in her regular clothes now, he noticed; hair pulled back slightly but fell gracefully at her shoulders. A time medallion hung around her neck, shining eerily under the florescent lights. He watched as her violet eyes scanned one of the photos from a few years ago. Her hand brushed against one where she, Tucker and himself were in the back of Fentonworks, looking carefree and lighter than they all must feel now.

"Seems like a lifetime ago, huh?" he said quietly, a twinge of sadness in his voice.

"Do you miss it?" Sam asked him softly. Her eyes were still glued to that photo, fingers gently moving over the three friends.

"Miss what?" Danny asked in response.

"Being normal."

Danny looked at Sam curiously, realizing that it wasn't just worry or nostalgia that brought her here; it was guilt. He frowned slightly, the question looping in his mind as he turned back to the photograph on the wall. Of course he missed being normal – that was all he ever wanted for high school. A nice, normal high school life to just… blend in. Normal kids didn't have to worry that one wrong move might destroy all of reality. Normal kids didn't have to stay up late trying to protect the city. Normal kids could date without worrying that their girl -friends would get possessed by evil plant ghosts. Yeah – he'd love to be just a regular fifteen year old kid… and yet…

He glanced over at her from the corner of his eye before shrugging. "Nah – who needs normal anyway? He replied wistfully. "My family were never normal. Tucker's not normal and he's one of my best friends. Besides, you hate normal – we wouldn't be friends if you thought I was normal before all this."

Sam smiled, a small chuckle of agreement escaped her lips and Danny's heart leapt into his throat. He watched her shuffle sideways, looking for another photo to look at. He watched her smile as she found another one, finding a small smile gracing his lips too.

"Where is everyone?" he asked, feigning interest in one of the photos.

"Tucker's downstairs at the main console," Sam said, not looking away from the photo on the wall. "He and your parents are working on separating your ecto-signature from Dan's." Danny frowned, reality slamming his happiness down in full force. "Jazz, Frostbite and Ethelwulf are prepping the lab and weapons for a planning session later. No idea about Clockwork."

"Ah," he said softly. Sam looked at him suddenly, and he inwardly cringed.

"I wanted to get away for a bit," she replied. "Everyone's working hard to help you Danny. You're not alone."

Danny sighed, berating himself for ruining the moment. "I know," he told her. She raised an eyebrow at him. "I do! I just…"

Sam turned back to the wall of photos, smiling sadly as she looked at family photo with a baby Danny hiding under a table while Jazz sat on top of it with a broom. "Wanted to get away from it all?" she supplied.

"Well, yeah."

Sam nodded. They fell into a comfortable silence after that, looking at the wall of photos and lost in thought. It was just the two of them – no battles, no plans, no fear. Danny felt lighter again, content at this small moment of time.

Tell. Her. Danny jumped as he felt the presence of his ghost half awaken in his mind. He glanced at Sam briefly, his heart bursting with emotion. They were in the middle of the biggest threat they've ever faced… was this really the right time? It could be the only time.

"Sam?" Her name escaped before he could stop himself.

"Hmm?"

Suddenly, his mouth went dry and words were very difficult to think of. "I… um.." he sputtered, cringing at the high pitch that came out of his mouth. She turned to him, amusement sparkling in her eyes. His stomach flipped with nerves. "Do you remember when we faced Nocturn?" he blurted out, panicked that he was pushed into a corner.

Sam's brow furrowed, eyes darkening with embarrassment and confusion. "Uh-huh…"

"And how I had to go into other people's dreams to wake them up?"

Sam blushed and turned away. "I think I hear-" she started, before Danny cut her off.

"I had the same one." The words came out of Danny's mouth before he could stop himself.

Violet eyes met blue, both slightly shocked at the admission. Danny's hand went to the back of his head, rubbing it nervously. There was no turning back now. "Sam, I –"

"Stop" Sam cut across, breaking their eye contact. Her arm grabbed the other, gripping it tightly as she seemed to fight with herself. Confused and hurt, Danny stopped talking, looking at her. "You don't get to do this."

Now thoroughly confused, Danny asked the first question that popped in his head. "What?"

Sam met his eyes again and he saw anger and hurt reflected back at him. "You don't get to say what you want to say and just run off into battle. This isn't some cliché movie scene Danny – this is real life. You had plenty of time this year to say what I think you're about to say. Why now?"

Danny stood there, wide eyed as he watched Sam seethe in anger. "I-" he started, but his voice cracked. What could he say to that? She whirled around suddenly, making an attempt to head back to the kitchen before he broke out of his stupor. "Sam wait!" he reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing it slightly. Sam didn't turn back towards him, but did stop. "Sam…" he whispered sadly. "I didn't –" he sighed heavily, staring at her tense back in concern. "You're right. This is real life." She stiffened slightly in his grip, but said nothing. "I didn't know how to tell you – to change things. I guess I was afraid before," he breathed. "I'm not now."

Sam relaxed in his grip and turned around, watching him curiously. "Why?" she repeated, her voice full of gentle curiosity. She moved closer to him, staring up into his face.

He struggled slightly, trying to find exactly what he wanted to say. Sam, to her credit, waited, giving him all the time he might need. "I'm not afraid anymore."

"Right now you're not afraid," Sam told him, frowning at him. "What happens after this Danny? After you say what you want to say and go off to face Dan… would you regret it?"

"No," he said simply. They were inches apart now, staring at each other. Something was shifting in their friendship; it was terrifying for them both, yet it seemed so natural. This was his moment. "Sam –"

A cough from behind them made both teens jump apart, blushing furiously. They both turned, looking at the intruder darkly, before their expressions turned ones of surprise.

"Clockwork!" Danny exclaimed, his voice going higher than intended. "How… how long have you been there?"

Clockwork ignored the question. "We need to talk," he said. Danny's brow furrowed at his tone.

Sam sighed, bringing the boy's attention back to her. "I should be heading back down anyway," she replied with a small smile.

Danny frowned. "Sam wait," he started, but she shook her head.

"It's fine," she told him, her smile was bittersweet. "This can wait."

No it can't he thought bitterly. His frustration must have shown on his face because Sam gave him a look of bemusement.

"It can," she said again. She turned, giving him a small wave. "Let's talk later."

Danny watched her go, sighing as Sam disappeared into his kitchen. Later; he could do later. Turning to the ghost hovering at the entrance of his living room, Danny cleared his head. Clockwork, as always, betrayed nothing. "That was important," Danny said quietly.

"Not as important as this," the time ghost replied honestly. Clockwork turned, floating into the empty living room. Confused and slightly concerned, Danny followed him. Back still turned to the young half-ghost, Clockwork sighed. "Have you had anymore glimpses of the future?"

Danny crossed his arms. "You're the one who's all-knowing. Wouldn't you already know?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. When Clockwork didn't answer nor turned, Danny's stomach dropped in anticipation. "No," he answered. "Nothing else from what I've already told you. Just glimpses of the alternate timeline."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Clockwork's head dropped slightly, making Danny frown in worry. "What's this about Clockwork?"

"Do you remember what I said about paradoxes?"

Not quite seeing the connection, Danny answered anyway. "That they're like dead ends. Eventually they'll go into roads where they have to go on and not have as many turns right? Eventually, they just come to the main parade road and branch out again."

"My powers are fading Danny," Clockwork reminded him. "The paradox is solidifying, meaning that once it starts, my ability to control time will disappear temporarily. As will my ability to foresee any possible futures. The paradox already can manipulate time – as it has already done during your most recent encounter with your future self."

Danny sighed tiredly. "I'm guessing this paradox solidifies when I face him, huh?"

Clockwork finally turned; his solemn face more grave in his older form. "Danny, there are three possible outcomes here. Only one of them is favourable."

Danny sighed again. "Clockwork, I appreciate you giving me the heads up, but –"

"Stop," Clockwork cut Danny off. Danny stared, mouth open slightly before closing it. Clockwork's usual demeanour was gone, replaced by something Danny only vaguely remembered from their first meeting. "The first time we met, you escaped into that possible future attempting to face Dan. Do you understand why I let you go?" Danny, wide eyed, shook his head. "Think – what happened in the future?"

"Ghostly Wail," Danny said automatically, listing it off his index finger. "Faced Valerie and Vlad, found out about the Nasty Burger Explosion, the Time-" Danny stopped, looking at Clockwork in confusion. "Dan fused the Time Medallion in my chest keeping me in the future."

"Precisely," Clockwork said. The old ghost floated closer to him, looking down at the confused teen in front of him. "Time let you see glimpses of the future due to that Time Medallion but contrary to how I describe it – time isn't just a parade. It lives continuously; pulling from wherever it feels is needed. When Dan merged the Time Medallion with your core, Time gave you access to every ghost power you could possibly develop between your time and his. That's how you developed your Ghostly Wail."

Shaken, Danny sat down on the couch, rubbing his chest absently as if to placate his core. "So the Ecto-storm? My core powers?"

Clockwork nodded. "Were all dormant until that point."

Danny swallowed. "But you saw that," he said, frowning in concentration. "You saw all that and still needed to save my family? Why would I need to gain all these powers if I wasn't powerful enough to stop him?"

Clockwork looked at Danny expectantly. "Parade, Danny," he said, a hint of annoyance directed to the boy. "And you did stop him- you just didn't stop the rest of it from happening."

Danny looked down at his hands. "But, he exists outside of time," he retorted. "I sucked him into a thermos and because I couldn't save my family fast enough, he's here and your powers are weakened."

Clockwork sighed heavily. "Danny, you have come a far way from letting your fears control you. Do not let your doubt do the same." Danny sighed, acknowledging he heard the ghost's words. "And you're still missing the point. I knew the outcome of that battle. I knew what you acquire in going to the future. I knew you would need my help, which would make Dan exist outside the time stream. So if I knew all that, why would I let a fourteen year old child create the only paradox that does not let me see past it?"

Danny looked up at Clockwork, realization slowly dawning on him. "You… you wanted this," he said astounded. "The powers, visions… All of it."

Clockwork smiled supportively. "Dan Phantom grew up to be one of the worst ghosts in the history of the Ghost Zone; he destroyed the world, and the ghost zone, multiple times over. In meeting you, he inadvertently created the one ghost powerful enough to stop him. He would have continued to raze the world if I hadn't saved your family, leaving no one left to stop him." Clockwork's smile fell, and dread started to pool in Danny's stomach again. "This paradox is the best shot of defeating him once and for all."

Danny nodded, feeling the crushing weight of his powers and responsibility. "Three outcomes?" he asked, bringing it back to Clockwork's original conversation.

"Three outcomes," Clockwork confirmed, frowning.

"One favourable," Danny finished, closing his eyes. Silence descended on the pair for a few minutes, Clockwork watching Danny's body stiffen as he slowly realized what that meant. "Clockwork," he said eventually in a small voice, looking up at the Time Master. "I'm not… I don't… survive this…. do I?" Clockwork didn't answer. A memory of the Ghost King fight fluttered through his brain. I don't have to win, I just have to make sure that you lose!

Again, silence blanketed the pair, the tension and unease of the current situation suffocating the younger more than he cared to show. "That's why you asked Ethelwulf to train me, why more of these ghosts seemed to help train me rather than fight me? You knew that it might come down to this." Danny put his head in his hands, distraught. "All this time… you knew."

"I thought we had more time," Clockwork said sombrely. "You're fifteen; I gave you this second chance so you could live more -learn more. Even I cannot deny fate for a moment of my choosing." Clockwork's face softened, genuine concern for his young charge peeking through his indifferent persona. "The observants have barred me from interfering with the events of the paradox. It's why I'm telling you this; if there's anyone I believe can defy the rules of a paradox, it is you Danny."

Danny nodded, swallowing determinedly. "One favourable…" Danny repeated, curling his hand into a fist. Determined blue eyes looked up into saddened red eyes. "Okay."

8 notes · View notes

hockeylvr59 · 5 years ago

Text

The Best Christmas Gift || Jakob Chychrun

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: This is another plot I’ve wanted to write for quite a while and Jakob is just so perfect for it. Unlike so many of my other stories, you cannot yell at me for a slow burn here. As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Warnings: a little nsfw content (fingering) kinda tossed in the middle of all the fluff, some cursing.

Word Count: 5,247

~~~~~~

It's the most wonderful time of the year

There'll be much mistltoeing

And hearts will be glowing

When loved ones are near

It's the most wonderful time of the year

Unconsciously, your fingers pressed the buttons on the steering wheel to switch radio stations.

I'll have a blue Christmas without you

I'll be so blue just thinking about you

Decorations of red on a green Christmas tree

Won't be the same, dear, if you're not here with me

Groaning, you just turned the radio off, letting silence fill the car. Today was one of those days where every song that came on the radio felt like a personal attack and while part of you wanted to throw up, another fought to blink back tears.

As you pulled into your parents’ driveway, you noted that there were no lights, no decorations, nothing that screamed Christmas was only three days away. It was just another reminder of how shitty life could be. You weren’t even supposed to be here, you were supposed to be at a cabin in the mountains with your fiance and his family. The plans had been made back in July and when you’d told your parents, they had booked a trip to Alaska, a trip they had been wanting to go on for years. They’d left for that trip last week, a mere 48 hours before your world crumbled around you.

You’d been out to dinner when your fiance Nick had asked for the ring back, declaring that he no longer wanted to get married, his expression so nonchalant, so unwilling to acknowledge that he was currently ripping your heart from your chest and stomping on it. You’d screamed, you’d cried, you’d made a hell of a scene but his mind was made up and so you left the restaurant leaving both the ring and the man you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with behind.

To make matters worse, you’d moved in with him when you’d gotten engaged and now, your childhood home was the only place you could turn. Nick had told you that you could stay in the apartment while he was in the mountains with his family but how were you supposed to sleep in the bed you’d shared, sit on the couch you’d watched so many movies together on knowing that all of it was a lie. Instead, you’d packed your bags, grabbing as much as you could and mentally saying screw the rest.

As you finally shut off your car, you couldn’t help but muse that this was certainly going to be the suckiest Christmas yet. At least your parents had a heated pool and December temperatures in Florida meant that you could spend the next week working on a tan. Though your life had crumbled, at least by the time you went back to work you could at least look like you had your shit together.

Slamming your car door shut, you moved to open the trunk when a familiar voice reached your ears.

“Y/N! What are you doing here? You know your mom and dad are in Alaska right now right?” Nancy Chychrun was one of the sweetest women you had ever known and as she walked across the space between your driveways you felt the mask you were trying to hold in place start to slip.

“Yeah, I know. I’m just going to hang out here by myself for a while.” You replied, rubbing your hands up and down your arm.

“What happened to…?” Nancy started to question, her eyes going wide as she caught a glimpse of your now barren ring finger. “Oh, sweetheart.” She cooed, stepping forward to wrap you up in a big hug. Letting yourself bask in the motherly touch you’d been craving since the other night, you wrapped your arms around her in return, hugging tightly. When she pulled away she wiped the tears from your cheek before sending you a knowing look. “Well, we all know he’s an idiot.” She declared, her hands cupping your cheeks to ensure that you were alright.

It was only as you were staring past her shoulder that you noticed their car was also open, being loaded up with suitcases.

“We’re going to Arizona to have Christmas with Jakob.” She explained. “And you know what...you’re coming with us.”

“Oh no...I couldn’t.” You immediately reacted, stepping back. “Truly I’ll be fine. Some time to decompress alone will be good for me.” You explained.

“Y/N. You are not spending Christmas alone.” Nancy pressed. “We already have an extra plane ticket. One of Taylor’s friends was supposed to join us but had a last-minute change of plans. It’s no bother at all to swap the names and I insist.”

If there was one thing you had learned about Nancy over the years was that she was certainly a mama bear and when she got something into her head, she wasn’t going to let it drop until you agreed.

“I’m not...my suitcases are a mess and…” You murmured, opening your trunk.

“Well, then I guess you better go rearrange them. We leave in an hour.” Her hand squeezed yours and she turned back, yelling up toward the house for Jeff to pull up the flight information to edit Erin’s ticket to reflect your name.

_____

A little over six hours later you were disembarking from the flight into the Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport feeling like some of the weight on your shoulders had been lifted. From the moment you’d stepped into your parents’ house, Taylor Chychrun had started texting you a list of a million things to bring with you. While you’d finally lugged your bag downstairs and into the Chychrun’s car, Jeff had started rambling about how good it was to see you and how excited they all were that you were joining them. The rambling was a good distraction from the depths of your brain and it lasted until you reached the airport. Then, the moment the plane had taken off, Taylor had insisted on sharing a pair of headphones as she put on a cheesy Christmas movie and it wasn’t long before her commentary had you nearly rolling in laughter. It had been far too long since you had spent any time with the Chychrun’s and maybe Nancy was right. You needed to be around people and the Chychrun’s were some of the best. You honestly hadn’t realized how much you missed them.

And there was one member of the family, in particular, who you missed without even knowing it.

You had just pulled your bag from the baggage carousel when you heard Taylor squeal out her brother’s name. By the time you turned around, both Nancy and Taylor had their arms wrapped around Jakob’s lean frame and a second later Jeff was hugging him as well. As the family moved to gather their bags, your eyes met blue and for a moment you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“Y/N…” Jakob greeted, surprise filling his voice as numerous emotions flicked across his face. “I...I didn’t know you were coming.” He whispered, though his body stepped forward to lean down and wrap around yours in a strong but gentle hug. “It’s good to see you.” He murmured softly in your ear and immediately you knew that he was being completely sincere.

“It was a last-minute change of plans.” You admitted. “But your mom insisted I come and it’s really good to see you too.” Jakob’s smile was warm as he pulled away and immediately reached for your bag. “I can…” You started but quickly gave in when he sent you a look, one he had very clearly learned from his mom. “Thank you.” You corrected, looking over to see that the rest of the Chychrun’s had gathered their bags and were ready to leave the airport.

As you sat in the back seat of Jakob’s SUV you tried to but couldn’t remember the last time Nick had ever carried one of your bags for you. It was such a small thing but it made you miss your broken relationship just a little bit less.

_____

You’d spent the evening hours that first night curled up on the outdoor couch in Jakob’s backyard with a glass of wine in hand as you watched the flames flicker in the gas fireplace. Though you chipped in on the conversation occasionally, for the most part, you just sat and observed the family dynamics going on around you. As you watched Jakob laugh and be ribbed by his dad and sister, your brain popped up with that nagging reminder that Nick’s family had never been this laid back, made you feel this comfortable. Still, you occasionally caught yourself fiddling with your barren ring finger, mimicking the action of spinning your engagement ring around it. You hadn’t realized anyone noticed but a few minutes after everyone else headed inside for bed, Jakob returned with a fresh glass of wine for you and sat next to you, his thigh pressed against your knee.

“Can I uh...can I ask what happened?” He inquired, the calmness of his voice settling deep in your bones. “If you don’t want to talk about it that’s cool but uh...you keep fiddling with your ring finger and I can’t help but notice your engagement ring is missing.” It didn’t surprise you that Jakob knew you’d been engaged, not with the way your moms gossiped. And though it shouldn’t, for some reason it did surprise you that he cared enough to ask about it. Downing another long sip of wine you debated whether you wanted to share the details but the feeling of Jakob’s warm hand on your knee pushed you to start talking.

You rambled on about how you hadn’t seen it coming, how you thought things were going well. You complained about how he’d done it in public, making you look like a completely crazy woman. You cried softly as you talked about how now you suddenly felt like you weren’t good enough, had never been good enough, and then before Jakob could jump in and stop your negative thoughts, you admitted that maybe you hadn’t truly been happy either.

Jakob just sat and listened, he’d always been a good listener...you couldn’t say the same about Nick...before he draped his arm over your shoulder and pulled you against the side of his body.

“Can I be honest?” He whispered, his fingers tangling in your hair.

“Of course.” You agreed though you were anxious to hear what he had to say.

“He wasn’t good enough for you,” Jakob stated. “I know you cared about him...loved him even…” He paused for a moment. “But your smile never reached your eyes when you were with him.” Maybe you imagined it because of the wine, but you could have sworn you felt Jakob’s breath hitch as he leaned in to kiss the top of your head. “So this may not be what you wanted or expected but I’m relieved...because I just want to see you happy, truly happy Y/N.”

Sitting, curled into Jakob’s side you sat and watched the fire flicker back and forth, his thumb rubbing lazily against your upper arm.

At the same time, a fire was starting to flicker inside of you, long-forgotten embers slowly being stoked to life.

_____

You weren’t sure if it was the insanely comfortable mattress, the wine, or the feeling of Jakob’s arms wrapped around your waist as he hugged you goodnight, but you fell asleep almost instantly and didn’t stir until the sun was peeking through the windows. As you pushed the sleep from your body, you pondered over the fact that you couldn’t remember the last time you had slept that well.

After breakfast, you had bugged Jakob about where the best local shopping was and then dragged Taylor out with you to buy presents despite everyone’s protests. Your raised eyebrow when you accused Nancy of trying to talk you out of shopping while knowing she was going to make sure there were presents for you was enough to get her to back off and after a few successful hours, you had a set of small presents for each member of the Chychrun family.

You snuck into your guest room to wrap them before changing into your swimsuit and heading down to spend some time at Jakob’s pool. As you lounged with Taylor, working on your tans, you occasionally felt a pair of eyes on you that made you shiver. Eventually, Jakob pulled you into the pool with him, and for the first time since the break-up, you forgot about Nick completely. As dinner time approached, you pulled yourself away from where Jakob was bugging you in the pool and dried off, heading inside to see if you could help Nancy with dinner.

Dinner was once again delicious, and you teased Nancy about how she was turning you into a lush with all of the wine. Conversation felt even more seamless than the night before and as you worked to clean up dishes, you felt Jakob pressing against your back as he reached up to put dishes away over your head.

“You doin’ okay?” He whispered and when you nodded you felt him squeeze your hip, the heat of his fingers transferring quickly through the thin fabric of your sundress. The two of you danced around each other as you finished cleaning up and when you were done, he tugged you over to the piano sitting in his living room. “Mom wanted me to play and I think you should come and play with me.”

“Jakob...that’s all you buddy...I haven’t...it’s been years.” You admitted. In fact, you had both been teenagers the last time you had touched piano keys.

“It’s not exactly something you forget.” He insisted, sitting you down on the piano bench before sliding in beside you. “I’ll even give you the easy part.” He declared, bumping your shoulder with what would be his own if you were a little bit taller but was instead just his arm. Scanning both the music and the keys in front of you, you tried to remember but settled for resting your fingers on the key Jakob pointed you to, following his direction and what little natural musical talent you had to press your key at the appropriate time.

By the second song, you just watched Jakob, who was such a natural at this that you knew he still took the time to practice. After playing a little mini-concert for his family, the two of you moved to join everyone else on the couches where Nancy was looking through photo albums. For the most part, she just showed them off to her kids but every once and a while she would draw your attention and point to a photo of you and Jakob. Sometimes you forgot about how close you once had been, and as you took in photos of you in Jakob’s jerseys over the years you felt waves of peace wash over you.

By the time you headed to bed, your head was full of memories.

And as you lay there, tossing and turning, those memories fed into the slowly growing fire deep inside you until tears were streaming down your cheeks. All at once, you remembered why you had even given Nick a second look in the first place.

You were trying to get over your feelings for Jakob.

For most of your teenage years, you’d had a schoolgirl crush of sorts on your neighbor and best friend. But then you got older, he got drafted into the NHL and your hopes of those feelings ever being requited vanished. You had just watched Jakob play his first NHL game when Nick approached you and honestly the rest was history. It wasn’t that you hadn’t liked Nick...but you certainly had never been in love with him...you just told yourself you were. You had settled for what you thought was attainable because you were afraid of truly being hurt by the man you considered unattainable.

Now you were back at square one and this time you could feel yourself falling back into those feelings, falling rapidly in love with Jakob.

Unable to sleep, you tiptoed downstairs and over to the piano, your path lit by the Christmas tree which twinkled, reflecting off the windows. Gently your fingers ran over the keys, not using any pressure for fear of waking someone.

“Y/N…” A scratchy voice whispered and after jumping from being startled, you looked over to find Jakob walking toward you from the kitchen. “What are you doing up?” He asked. You hadn’t realized that you were still crying until Jakob was squatting beside the piano bench, his fingers brushing the tears off your cheeks.

“I never loved him.” You admitted. Confusion filled Jakob’s face and he quietly stood, pulling you from the bench and over towards the tree that looked like it came straight off the cover of a magazine.

“What do you mean?” Jakob questioned, his arms resting lightly on your hips as he tried to understand everything going through your head.

“I never loved him.” You repeated. “I just told myself I did. Told myself he would have to be good enough.” Jakob started to speak but you shook your head needing to get it all out there. “But he never carried my bags. Opened my door. Brought me wine. I don’t think his family ever liked me much. They certainly never made me feel very welcome. And he...he never really listened. I never felt like he truly ever heard me. Like he truly ever even knew me. I…” This time it was Jakob who shut you up, his fingers flexing against your hips as he stepped closer.

“Are you saying…? Fuck...please tell me you’re saying…” Jakob’s voice was rough with emotion and the Christmas lights caught his eyes in ways that made them send shivers down your spine. You weren’t surprised that he had picked up on how everything you’d mentioned was something he’d done, his family had done in the last 48 hours. “Please…” Jakob repeated, and you could feel how much he needed the answer.

“I never loved him because he wasn’t you.” Jakob didn’t respond, and immediately you started questioning if that was even what he expected you to say, what he wanted you to say. “I...was so certain that you’d never feel the same that I went for something that I knew was actually attainable and I guess I was right on the first count but wrong on the latter…”

A gasp spilled from your throat as Jakob crashed his lips onto yours, pulling you against his body for a deep and passionate kiss. Jakob kissed you until you had to pull away to breathe, and then as soon as you had caught your breath, he kissed you again.

You weren’t sure how long you stood in front of the Christmas tree, Jakob’s hands and mouth trying to tell you all the things he had yet to say. But eventually, he paused, his forehead resting against yours as his fingers drifted to take your hands in his.

“You just made my every Christmas wish for the last five years come true.” He breathed. “Fuck...I’ve been in love with you since I was like 16. I just didn’t know what love was. I’ve missed having you in my everyday life more than you know and I hope you know I’m not letting you go now. I know you have shit to work through, we have shit to work through but I promise you...the day I put a ring on your finger I am never going to ask for it back.”

Jakob’s words, the certainty behind each and every one of them, stoked the teasing flames into an all-consuming inferno. You’d never imagined this day would ever come. But it had, and it was possibly the best Christmas gift you could ever receive.

“I’m going to hold you to that promise.” You murmured, pressing your lips against Jakob’s once more. With his hands tangled in your hair, Jakob walked the two of you back to the couch, pulling you down to curl into his lap. It was there that you finally fell asleep for a few hours, waking to the feeling of Jakob’s lips against your neck.

____

By the time his family made their way downstairs, you and Jakob had breakfast made and were sitting outside enjoying the warm Arizona Christmas Eve. As you basked under the sun’s rays, you thought about both your future and your past. To many, it might seem crazy that a week ago you were engaged to be married and now you were quickly falling head over heels for another man. To those that truly knew you, however, you were certain that it would come as no surprise. There was so much that you and Jakob needed to discuss but you could honestly and truly say that you were excited for what the future held.

As you finished breakfast, you chatted with Nancy about all of the food preparations that needed made both for dinner tonight but also lunch and dinner tomorrow. It wasn’t long until you were elbow deep in recipes, working alongside Nancy and Taylor to make sure that everything was ready and needed as little effort as possible later. By the time preparations were finished, it was time to change for church and when you came down the stairs you felt Jakob’s eyes taking in the sight of you, the feeling holding a deeper meaning now. His hand rested against the small of your back as he guided you to the car and he dipped his head to whisper in your ear.

“You look beautiful.” The deep color of his eyes signaled that there were words he wasn’t saying given the time and audience but it still made you fight back a blush knowing his thoughts weren’t all appropriate.

Church was followed by dinner and board games before everyone retired to bed. Everyone but you and Jakob. Now dressed in loungewear, you made your way to where Jakob was seated on the couch, straddling over his lap as his hands fell to your hips.

“Care to share what you were really thinking earlier…” You teased, your body responding with excitement to just the feeling of his eyes on you.

“I was thinking there are things I want to do to you that I should definitely not be thinking on my way to church.” He replied, sealing his lips around yours in a kiss and sliding his tongue into your mouth as you gasped against him. “I probably also shouldn’t be thinking them with my parents and sister upstairs.” He added as he pulled back to breathe.

“Think them.” You murmured, dropping your hips to rock against his. “Because I know I am.” Jakob groaned and allowed you to seek the friction of your hips on his for another moment before his hands forced you to stop. “J…” You whined, pouting as he laughed against your neck.

“Trust me, baby...I want it too.” Jakob assured you. “But I want to take you on a date first.” He insisted. “And I certainly want to be able to hear every noise you make without worrying about being caught by my parents.” You knew he was right but that didn’t mean you had to be happy about it. “I’ve wondered what it would feel like to be inside you since I was 17...I can wait a little longer. And I swear I’ll make it worth your while.”

“J...you can’t say things like that.” You grumbled now feeling even more turned on than you were when he first stopped you.

“I’m sorry.” Jakob breathed, moving one hand to cup your face and pull you into a gentle kiss. For a moment, his remaining hand twitched on its spot against your hip before it moved quickly, shifting around your stomach to slide under the waistband of your pajamas. As his fingers slid between your slick folds you felt him break the kiss to murmur against your lips. “You gotta be quiet okay baby?” His fingers quickly found your swollen clit as he kissed you again, muffling your whimpers as you shifted your hips against his hand. Quickly, one long finger pressed inside of you before being joined by a second, and before you could even process just how quickly you were cumming on just his fingers, your orgasm crashed over your leaving you gasping quietly into his shoulder.

As you caught your breath, Jakob removed his fingers, wiping them onto his sweats before his lips kissed your forehead.

“Better baby?” He asked, a soft smirk on his face. All you could do was nod, the muscles in your thighs still twitching.

“We’re gonna talk about that later.” You sighed, amazed at the fact that he hadn’t even hesitated in reading your body and providing you exactly what you needed. Not to mention that it was that good.

After a moment, Jakob had you cradled in his arms and had stood from the couch, heading for the stairs.

“Now I think it’s time for bed. You know Santa won’t come if you’re still awake.” He joked. As he laid you down gently on the guest bed he kissed you once more, his fingers pushing a stray strand of hair away. “Merry Christmas Y/N. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Merry Christmas J...thank you.” Sated from your orgasm, from the feelings of being loved by Jakob, sleep once again came quickly as you snuggled into bed.

______

Taylor was the one who woke you up in the morning, insisting that everyone was downstairs and ready to open presents. Cleaning yourself up a little from last night’s activities, you made your way downstairs a few minutes later to find presents now stacked neatly under the tree. The only spot available was beside Jakob on the couch and in front of the empty spot was a steaming mug. With a silent nod, Jakob confirmed it was for you and as Nancy handed out the first round of presents you took a sip, smiling at the fact that someone remembered that hot chocolate was the only appropriate beverage for Christmas morning.

In the first round, your present was from Nancy and Jeff and when you opened it you smiled and laughed when it was a wine pairing book.

“You’re going to try and educate me yet.” You joked. “Thank you.”

In the second round, you received a gift bag with bath bombs and body scrubs from Taylor and Jeff opened up some silly daily calendar that Taylor had helped you pick out. The third round you got some new nail polishes from Nancy and she opened the wine ice cubes that you had gotten for her. You continued around the room a few more times until you reached the final round. Taylor opened a romper you had picked out for her while she was in the bathroom and she immediately insisted she would have to go try it on as soon as you were done. Jakob opened a pair of swim trunks, he had complained about his old ones pretty much as soon as you arrived, and while he laughed his eyes met yours silently communicating that you had already given him the best gift just by being his.

As his mom leaned over to hand you your last present, Jakob slid another one on top of it causing his family to raise their eyebrows.

“Open the big one first.” He insisted and when you tore off the paper and opened the box, inside you found exactly what you had been expecting. Your fingers pulled the maroon fabric from the box and your heart beat faster as you examined the name and number. It had been so long since you’d worn one of Jakob’s jerseys and you absolutely couldn’t wait to put it on.

“Thank you.” You breathed, trying not to cry as you leaned over to hug him quickly. He was smiling, but you could feel that he was nervous about the other package as you tore through the paper. With the paper tossed to the floor, you found yourself holding a small jewelry box. Glancing over at him you watched as he rubbed the back of his neck. Popping the lid to the box open, you revealed a small metal ring in the shape of a knot. With your breath caught from the statement he was making, you looked over at him again.

“I uh...I thought your ring finger might be feeling a little bare.” He whispered. “It’s uh...it’s a promise ring, a promise to help you heal, a promise to explore everything we’ve both been feeling for so long, and a promise to someday replace this one with both a proper engagement ring and a wedding band so that that jersey will be your last name and not just mine.” You choked back a sob at everything that tiny band symbolized, trying to speak but unable to find words. “I got you a chain too..you know in case you aren’t ready to wear it as a ring…” He added.

Finally, the simplest of phrases flew forth.

“It’s perfect, J.” Offering him the box, you held your left hand out for him to slide the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly and unlike your engagement ring which had never really felt like you, this looked like it was meant to be there.

Laying your left hand onto his cheek, you leaned over again, pressing your lips to his in the sweetest of kisses. It wasn’t until you pulled away that you realized the show you’d just put on for his formerly in the dark family who was currently staring at the two of you from their spots around the living room.

You honestly didn’t know what to say to them so when Nancy stood, beckoning you forward so that she could see the ring you felt your breath settle back into your chest.

“Oh honey, it’s beautiful.” She exclaimed, her arms wrapping around your body in a secure hug.

“Thank you.” You murmured. “Just thank you.” There weren’t enough words to express all that you were thankful for. For bringing the man you were falling in love with into the world, for insisting you come on this trip, for being so supportive even when you knew there were a lot of unanswered questions.

“Of course...you’re family now aren’t you.” She smiled and at that moment you knew that this was what you wanted forever.

Christmas truly was the most wonderful time of the year because it reunited you with the love of your life and expanded your heart with the love of his entire family. As Nancy and Taylor worked to serve breakfast, Jakob pulled you into his arms, kissing you once again as he dipped you in front of the Christmas tree. And like the photos in Nancy’s albums, that was a picture you would look back on and smile, a picture that would hang on the wall for years to come in your home together.

#jakob chychrun #jakob chychrun imagine #arizona coyotes #arizona coyotes imagine #jakob chychrun nws #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nws #lemon #036 #hockey christmas in july

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master-sass-blast · 4 years ago

Text

Gifted.

*tosses escapism fic into the void* yeet.

Summary: You and Piotr go Christmas shopping and enjoy the holiday season.

That's it. That's all that's happening. You're welcome.

Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader and mentioned Illyana Rasputin x Kitty Pryde.

Rating: G.

Word Count: 2k precisely.

Set after “It’s Truly Magical.”

A/N: On the off-chance someone asks or is worried, yes, there are no mentions of masks or social distancing in this fic. That's because, in this fic, there is no COVID (ergo, no need for masks and such). I'm just not dealing with it in my fanfic as well. I won't. You can't make me.

Wear your fucking masks irl pls and thank u.

Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @super-darkcloudstudent, @dandyqueen, @leo-writer

“What a bright time, it's the right time/ To rock the night away/ Jingle bell time is a swell time/ To go glidin' in a one-horse sleigh…”

You inhale deeply, then smile. The smells of fresh pretzels and pine –the latter is likely a fake scent that the stores use, but it’s still good—tantalize your nose. You tuck your hat and gloves in your purse, then look over at your husband. “Where all are we going?”

“Ah…” Piotr scans his list –which has notes on which stores to check and what order the stores are laid out in the mall, so as to streamline things. “Kitty said she did not want gifts because she does not celebrate Christmas, so we are just shopping for… my family and Russell. You said you already bought gifts for your dad and Wade?”

“Yup,” you say with a grin. Nate’s easy to shop for –ammo, clothes, and the odd book or two are usually all he want—and for Wade you just find the weirdest stuff listed on Amazon. “And I already sent my uncle a gift from us, so we don’t have to worry about him.”

Piotr nods, ‘hmm-ing’ as he makes a note on his list. “Okay.” He mumbles in Russian under his breath, then says, “Mama had no list this year; I think we start with her first since figuring out gift will take longer.”

“That’s fine. Where should we start?”

“I think bookstore is best bet. From there, we can stop by Hot Topic and candle shop for snezhinka, then Game Stop for Mikhail.”

“Sounds good.” You link your arm through his and smile up at him. “Lead the way, babe.”

***

You glance between the piles of books on the table, then at your husband, who looks like he’s about to pull his hair out. “Do you think that, just maybe, you’re overthinking this? Just a little?”

“This is important,” Piotr insists as he skims through books from various areas of Barnes and Noble –cooking, history, fiction; he’d grabbed at least one book from nearly every section. “She has specific tastes. Cannot be just any old book.”

You purse your lips together. You don’t doubt that Alexandra has particular tastes in reading material –as a woman from her walk in life is bound to have—but you’re also certain that she wouldn’t want her son driving himself insane just to pick a present for her. You sit down next to Piotr and gently put your hand on his arm. “Sweetheart. She’s going to like whatever you get her.”

“Not necessarily. I have seen her toss many books aside with scoff and never pick them up again.”

“Okay, why?”

He shrugs. “Realism. She thinks some authors are ‘too indulgent’ or ‘too unrealistic.’”

“Alright, so maybe we leave out the crime and romance stuff,” you suggest, setting the few books he’d grabbed from those areas aside. “What does she like to do?”

Piotr goes quiet. His expression grows ashen as he contemplates the question. “I… don’t know.”

“Does she like to cook? Or draw? Or watch certain types of shows or movies?”

“I don’t know,” he repeats, more insistent. “She…” He sighs. “She never sits still. I don’t think any shows or movies interest her. When I was child, she always worked. On farm, taking care of animals, helping workers, making food, balancing accounts, translating letters and schoolwork… I never saw her rest. Do something for herself.”

You let out a soft snort. “Maybe a book on meditation.”

Piotr rolls his eyes, grinning. “Perhaps not.”

“Who does she like to be around, then?”

“Otets.” Piotr smiles when the answer comes easily. “She and my father” –he holds up two crossed fingers—“are like this. Aside from siblings and me, I think he is only person she is really close to.”

“Alright, maybe a cookbook, then. That’d give them something to do together.”

Piotr nods, then starts looking through the cookbooks he’d picked. “Question is, which one?”

“Well, we know she likes to stay busy and keep moving. Maybe something that’d challenge their skills? Something they haven’t tried?” You hold up a book boasting ‘rich and authentic Middle Eastern recipes.’ “This could be good. I think they’d have access to most of the ingredients, here in New York.”

He nods again, then sets the aforementioned book aside before checking over the other ones. “I think…” He lifts a hardcover thriller novel off the table. “She likes mysteries. This one has good reviews… maybe…”

You gently take the book from his hands and set it atop the Middle Eastern cookbook. “I think it’s a great choice.”

He smiles, then kisses your cheek. “Spasibo, myshka.”

***

“Bozhe moi.”

You giggle as the two of you step over the threshold of the Yankee Candle store, only for Piotr to recoil and take a step back. “You good there, baby?”

He presses his fingers against the sides of his nose. “Is like… assault of smells.”

“I know.” You inhale deeply, them flash him an impish smile. “Isn’t it great?”

Piotr groans, still rubbing his sinuses. “Do you mind—”

“I’ll find a candle for Illyana. Wanna meet up in Gamestop?”

“Spasibo, dorogoy.”

You blow him a kiss, then head into the candle store. You take a couple minutes to peruse the holiday display at the front of the store –and grab a couple votives for you and Piotr to enjoy—before heading towards the back of the store, where all the shelves of their regular candles are. You pause to smell your favorites –seriously, the McIntosh apple one never fails to make your mouth water—before taking a step back to survey your options. Alright, what to get for a mildly angsty, queer Russian goth?

It’s not as straightforward as it sounds (har har). Illyana’s an enigma, much like her mother. She’s quiet, keeps to herself, and doesn’t usually bother with convention.

Do I go for aesthetic? You pick up a pitch black candle labeled “Midnight Forest” and give it a cursory sniff. Ugh, smells like ass. No, thank you.

You also have to consider that whatever you get is likely going to be smelled by Kitty, too. As much as Illyana marches to the beat of her own drum, she’s surprisingly conscientious of her bubbly, energetic girlfriend.

Maybe something natural? Like the farm? You try a few options, wrinkling your nose after each sniff. God, what is it with the fresh scents and smelling heinous? You debate texting Piotr and dragging him back in here, if only so you’re certain you’ll get something Illyana would like—

And then it hits you over the head like a brick.

She’s gonna use these for meditation. You head down the rows of shelves, grab a jar labeled “Vanilla,” and give it a smell. Perfect. Not too strong, not too bland. You grab a lavender scented tumbler (for relaxation), then snag a pink one that smells like the perfume Kitty favors on a hunch it’ll be a hit.

By the time you pay for yours and Illyana’s candles, Piotr’s already waiting outside the Gamestop for you, bag in hand.

He eyes your bulging bags, eyebrow raising in trepidation. “Why…”

“Look, it’s your fault for abandoning me,” you say before he can point out your lack of self-control. “You know I’m weak for candles.”

Piotr snorts, then sighs. “Fair enough.” He nods and makes approving noises when you show him the picks you made for Illyana, then shows you what he grabbed for Mikhail.

“‘Mister Mosquito?’” You nearly double over laughing. “What even is this?”

“He wanted ‘weird video game,’” Piotr says, shrugging one shoulder. “I figure this should do.”

“He’s gonna love it,” you reassure your husband. “That’s weird as shit.” You start strolling along the main hall of the mall –and then your stomach rumbles. “Can we get pretzels?”

“Da, myshka,” Piotr chuckles, “we can get pretzels.”

***

“There'll be parties for hosting/ marshmallows for toasting/ and caroling out in the snow/ there'll be scary ghost stories/ and tales of the glories of/ Christmases long, long ago…”

“It’s the most! Wonderful time! Of the year!” you sing along as you rip another chunk off your pretzel. You smile to yourself as you admire the glittering, twinkling decorations decking the food court. “How’s your pretzel?”

“Very tasty.” Piotr dips a bite of his pretzel in some mustard, pops it in his mouth, then swallows before wiping his fingers on a napkin. “I think we only have handful of stops left.”

“Couple of sweaters for your dad… weird socks and-or scarves for Mikhail…” You lean over, reading off the list in his hand (which is written in a mixture of Russian and English). You take another bite of pretzel, then tap on a portion of blended “Russi-nglish” that you can’t decipher. “What’s that?” you ask once your mouth is clear.

“Random gift options,” he translates. “For filling out presents, stockings, that sort of thing.” He touches the tip of his index finger to the page, moving down the list in order. “Chocolate, books, gift cards. Guaranteed hits, essentially.”

“Ooh, I could go for some chocolate.”

Piotr snorts. “You just had pretzel. And this is for others, myshka.”

“If it’s in the car with me, I make no promises.”

He laughs, then makes an extra note on his list. “Safety chocolate… for myshka. Got it.”

***

“Here, dorogoy.”

“Oh, thank you!” You smile as Piotr takes some of the excess bags from your hands, shifting them so he can carry them (which, with his strength and the size of his hands, is no problem at all). You amble along next to him, admiring the various pop-up stands boasting games, calendars, and Christmas-themed treats. “Is there anywhere else we need to stop?”

“I believe we have everything.”

“And I’m guessing we need to head home so we can make dinner?”

“That would be best, da.” Piotr looks down at you, expression curious. “Why? There is somewhere you wish to stop?”

“Eh, not really,” you say with a shrug. “I just like coming to the mall during this time of year. The decorations, the music, the extra stands and seasonal gifts… It just makes me happy.”

“Aah, khorosho. I understand. We can come back later for date, if you like. Take time to walk around and admire stores.”

You grin up at him. “I’d like that.”

The two of you make to head out of the mall, back to the parking lot—

And then Piotr veers towards the right.

“Where are we going?” you ask, giggling as he leads you towards the bookstore. “I thought we already got everything we needed from here?”

He winks at you. “Trip is not complete yet. Not with hot chocolate, anyway.”

You grin and let him guide you over to the café in the bookstore.

Piotr gets you situated at a table near the expanse of windows at the front of the shop. He leaves your bags with you, then leads up at the counter to order your drinks.

You smile, lovestruck as you gaze over at him. How did I get so lucky? You lean back in your seat, taking a moment to admire the snow falling outside before checking out the decorations throughout the store…

Which is when you realize that there’s mistletoe hanging over your table.

You chuckle to yourself. Perfect.

“You are in good mood,” Piotr comments as he returns with two cups of hot chocolate.

“Of course, I am,” you admit with a broad grin. “I’ve got you. And tradition’s on our side.”

Piotr’s smile turns quizzical. He cocks his head to the side, staring at you for a moment, then looks up when you point towards the ceiling. “Ah,” he chuckles, “yes. That is good reason to be happy.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” You hook your finger under the collar of his shirt and gently tug him towards you. “Come here, handsome.”

He lets out a soft, happy giggle and bends down to kiss you.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #holiday fluff #i miss going outside #which never happens so like #fml #don't mind the sounds of despair coming from my general direction #just use the fluff to drown it out #just like how i am #also kitty is jewish and thus doesn't observe christmas #i will die on this fucking hill :)#x men fanfiction #deadpool fanfiction

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