#and if it failed it just wouldn't save. and copying and pasting was broken

[merge-conflict]

the tumblr text editor having some ephemeral weird to pin down but easy to trigger off-by-one error in its selection tool Sure Is Something.

[cheynovak]

The shadowsinger - Part 1

Characters: Azriel x F/Reader: Y/N     

Summary:  Y/N, the niece of Lucien, has fled an arranged marriage, only to find herself hunted by her cruel uncle, Beron. Lost in the cold woods, she is discovered by Azriel, who is reminded of his own painful past. He brings her back to Velaris, but the journey is only beginning. 

Warnings: Slow burn

English is not my first language 

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

The icy wind cut through Y/N's thin cloak, searing her skin as she stumbled through the dense forest. The once vibrant colors of autumn had turned into a bleak winter, with snow starting to fall, slowly covering the trail of blood she left behind. Her legs trembled from exhaustion, but she couldn't stop, wouldn't stop. Not with Beron's men behind her, their footsteps echoing in the distance. 

Y/N was Lucien's niece, a daughter of Autumn, but that title had brought her nothing but pain. Her father had struck a deal with Beron, promising her hand in marriage to some brute from a distant court in exchange for power. She had refused, and when her objections were ignored, she had done the only thing she could think of—she ran. 

But running from the Autumn Court wasn't easy. Not when your own blood hunted you down, intending to drag you back to a life of misery. A life where she'd be bound, broken, and used as a pawn in their games. 

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her vision blurring as the cold seeped into her bones. She had been so close to Velaris, so close to safety, to Lucien. But now, it seemed that her journey would end in these woods, frozen and alone. 

A sharp pain shot through her leg as she tripped over a hidden root, crashing into the snow-covered ground. She cried out, but the sound was swallowed by the howling wind. Y/N's body refused to move, her strength completely spent. 

She didn't even have the energy to be afraid anymore. As her vision faded, she thought of Lucien the one person who had always shown her kindness despite the darkness of their court. She had wanted to reach him, to tell him everything, but now… 

Darkness crept in, and she was too tired to fight it. 

But just as she began to surrender to the cold embrace of death, she felt something, a weird fog surrounding her, the smell of night-chilled mist and cedar filled her nose. Is this what dead feel like, she wondered. The shadow, wrapped around her, as if shielding her from the cold. 

"Hold on," a deep voice murmured, filled with a kind of pain she understood all too well. "I’ve got you." 

-- 

Azriel had been patrolling the borders of Velaris when he sensed it—a faint pulse of life in the woods, so weak it was nearly indistinguishable from the falling snow. His shadows had led him to her, and the sight of her had nearly stopped his heart. 

She was so small, so fragile, her body marred with cuts and bruises. Blood stained the snow around her, and her skin was pale as death. But it was her face, her broken expression, that struck a chord deep within him. It reminded him of Mor, of how he had found her centuries ago, broken and discarded. 

Without hesitation, Azriel scooped her up, his shadows curling around them to provide warmth. He could feel her faint heartbeat, a fluttering thing that was growing weaker by the second. He needed to get her to Velaris, to the House of Wind. She would be safe there, far from the reach of Beron and the Autumn Court. 

His wings beat against the wind as he took off, cradling her close to his chest. The journey was swift, but every second felt like an eternity. He couldn't lose her—not when he had the power to save her. Not when he had failed so many before. 

By the time they reached the House of Wind, Y/N was barely conscious, her body limp in his arms. Azriel moved quickly, alerting the healers and settling her into one of the largest, most comfortable bedrooms, but she was slipping away. 

"Stay with me," he whispered, his voice hoarse as he watched over her, his shadows swirling anxiously. "You’re safe now. You’re in Velaris." 

But she didn't respond. Her breathing was shallow, her skin cold despite the fire roaring in the hearth. He couldn't leave her like this—not even for a moment. 

Azriel stayed by her side, shadows comforting her as best they could, until finally, she let out a small sigh and drifted into unconsciousness. He didn’t move, not even when the healers came, knowing that if he let her out of his sight, he might lose her. 

-- 

When Y/N woke again, alone, it was to the sight of a large, unfamiliar room. The bed she lay in was soft, the blankets thick and warm, but it did nothing to quell the fear that gripped her heart. Where was she? Had Beron's men taken her back to the Autumn Court? Was this some new prison they had locked her in?

She tried to sit up, but her body protested, every muscle aching. Panic rose in her chest, and she looked around frantically, searching for a way out. The room was luxurious, the walls adorned with beautiful art, and the furniture carved from rich wood. It didn't look like a prison, but she knew better than to trust appearances. She noticed a shadowy smoke retrieve out of the room.

She jumped out of bed running out the door afraid didn't look where she was going.

The hallways were wide and grand, with tall ceilings and sunlight streaming through large windows. But she didn't notice the beauty around her, too consumed by the fear that had her heart pounding in her chest. Every step sent a fresh wave of pain through her battered body, but she ignored it, the adrenaline urging her to keep moving. 

She glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see the smoke curling toward her like a predator. But instead, she ran straight into something solid—a wall of muscle that nearly sent her sprawling backward. 

Y/N gasped, looking up into the eyes of the man she had seen before she blacked out. He was real? And he was taller than she remembered, more imposing. His face was a picture of calm, but there was an intensity in his hazel eyes that made her stomach twist with a mix of fear and something else—something she couldn't quite name. 

Her eyes widened when she noticed the broad wings that flared slightly behind him, the dark, powerful wings of an Illyrian warrior. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, drowning out any words he might have said. Was this another trick? Another means to control her? Beron had always despised the Illyrians, but perhaps that had changed… perhaps he had found a way to use them against her. 

The man was speaking, his deep voice low and steady, but the sound was muffled as if she were underwater. She stumbled back, trying to escape, but his strong hands caught her arms, holding her in place—not painfully, but firmly enough to keep her from falling. 

He was saying something, his voice cutting through the noise in her head as he gently squeezed her arm, trying to ground her. 

“Hey,” he said, his voice clear now, but still laced with concern. “You’re safe. You’re in Velaris.” 

Y/N flinched at his touch, her entire body tensing as if she expected him to hurt her. But he didn’t. His grip was steady, his hands warm, and despite her fear, she could feel a strange sense of calm trying to break through the panic. 

“Velaris,” he repeated, more gently this time, his eyes never leaving hers. “No one will hurt you here. You’re safe.” 

Safe. The word echoed in her mind, battling against the terror that had consumed her since she fled the Autumn Court. Safe. 

But it was hard to believe. Hard to trust after everything she had been through. She searched his eyes, looking for any sign of deceit, any hint that this was another cruel game. But all she saw was sincerity, a quiet strength that promised he was telling the truth. 

“I… I saw shadows,” she whispered, her voice trembling. 

“They’re mine,” he said, his tone softening even more. “They won’t harm you. They were just watching over you, keeping you safe.” 

His words were a balm to her frayed nerves, and slowly, the panic began to recede. The man—this Illyrian warrior—he had saved her, hadn’t he? The memories were fuzzy, but she remembered the warmth of his presence, the way his shadows had wrapped around her in the cold, protecting her from the death that had been so close. 

“I’m Azriel,” he said, his grip on her arms loosening now that he saw some of the fear leaving her eyes. “You’re in the House of Wind. No one can reach you here. Not Beron, not anyone.” 

Y/N’s knees felt weak, the fight draining out of her as the reality of his words settled in. Velaris. She had made it. She was in Velaris. And this male, Azriel, had been the one to bring her here, to save her from freezing to death in the woods. 

“Lucien…” she breathed, the name of her uncle a desperate plea. “Is he here? I need to find him.” 

Azriel nodded, his expression softening at the mention of Lucien. “He’ll be here soon,” he assured her. “We sent word to him as soon as we found you.” 

Relief flooded through Y/N, but with it came a bone-deep exhaustion. Her body sagged against Azriel’s as the adrenaline faded, leaving her trembling with fatigue. 

“Easy,” Azriel murmured, gently lifting her up and guiding her back toward the room she had fled from. “You need to rest. I promise, you’re safe here.” She heard him say while she fought her eyes to stay open.  

“Rest now. I’ll be nearby if you need anything.” 

Y/N watched as he quietly left the room, closing the door behind him. The last thing she saw before sleep claimed her was the shadows that lingered in the corners, no longer a source of fear, but a silent promise of protection. 

-- 

For a week, Y/N drifted in and out of consciousness, her body too weak to do anything more than rest and heal. Every time she awoke, she found herself in the same soft bed, the same comforting warmth surrounding her, but she never stayed awake long enough to gather her thoughts. It was as if her body demanded the sleep, pulling her back under before she could fully wake. 

But then, one morning, she heard a familiar voice—a voice that cut through the haze of sleep and pulled her fully awake for the first time since her escape. 

“Lucien?” she whispered, sitting up in bed. 

The room was quiet, the early morning light filtering through the curtains. Her body no longer ached as it had before, and for the first time, she felt a semblance of strength return to her limbs. Pushing back the blankets, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, surprised at how steady she felt. The soft fabric of her borrowed pajamas brushed against her skin as she stood, and she took a moment to steady herself before following the sound of voices down the hallway. 

The House of Wind was vast, its halls echoing with the distant sound of conversation. As Y/N made her way toward the source of the voices, she noticed how quiet the house was, as if it were still asleep. But the closer she got to the kitchen, the more clearly she could hear them—Lucien’s voice, familiar and comforting, and Azriel’s, deep and calm. 

When she reached the doorway, she paused, taking in the scene before her. Lucien was standing near the counter, his back to her, but she would recognize him anywhere. Relief and emotion swelled in her chest at the sight of him, but she held back, not wanting to interrupt. 

Azriel was there too, leaning casually against the wall, his wings tucked neatly behind him. But they weren’t alone. Another Illyrian warrior stood nearby, his presence commanding and intense. A woman with golden-brown hair, elegant and poised, stood beside him, her eyes kind but sharp. And then, seated at the head of the table, were two figures that made Y/N’s breath catch in her throat. 

The High Lord and Lady of the Night Court—Rhysand and Feyre. 

Rhysand’s dark hair framed a face that was as beautiful as it was powerful, his violet eyes watching her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. Feyre, beside him, was no less striking, her beauty softened by an air of quiet strength. Together, they were a force, a power that Y/N had only ever heard whispers of. 

Her instincts kicked in, and she bowed quickly, feeling a flush of embarrassment as she realized she was still in her pajamas. What kind of impression must she be making, stumbling in like this? 

“Y/N,” Lucien’s voice was warm and full of relief as he turned to her. But before he could say more, Rhysand’s voice cut through the air. 

“There’s no need for bows here,” Rhysand said, his tone gentle but firm. “You’re among friends.” 

Y/N straightened slowly, her heart still pounding. The High Lord’s presence was overwhelming, but his words were kind, putting her slightly at ease. 

Feyre stepped forward, her expression softening as she looked at Y/N. “Are you feeling better?” she asked, her voice laced with concern. “Azriel told us what happened, but we wanted to hear it from you, if you’re ready to talk.” 

Y/N’s gaze flicked to Azriel, who was watching her with that same soft smile she had seen before, his eyes holding a warmth she hadn’t expected. It gave her the courage to speak, to explain. 

As she spoke, the memories of her escape came flooding back— the terror, the desperation, the cold that had nearly claimed her life. She glanced at Lucien, who was listening intently, his face filled with anger and concern. 

“I tried to make it to Velaris,” Y/N continued, her voice trembling slightly. “But I didn’t know where to go. I got lost in the woods, and the cold… I thought I was going to die out there.” 

At that, Elain, who had been standing quietly beside Lucien, gasped softly, her eyes wide with sympathy. Y/N hadn’t even noticed her until now, but there was something gentle and understanding in her gaze that made Y/N feel a little less alone. 

“It was Azriel who found me,” Y/N said, turning her gaze back to him. “He saved me. Brought me here.” 

Azriel’s smile remained, though his eyes were somber. “You were brave to make it as far as you did,” he said softly. “We’re glad you made it.” 

Rhysand nodded, his expression serious. “You can stay here as long as you need,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Beron has no reach in Velaris. You’re safe here.” 

Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her at his words, the tension in her body finally beginning to ease. She had made it. She was safe. And for the first time in what felt like forever, she believed it. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude as she looked around the room, at the people who had taken her in, who had offered her a place to heal. 

Azriel walked over to her, inclined his head, his expression softening as he said:

“Welcome to the Night Court.”  

--

Please like, share or comment when you liked the story. If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

If you want to be updated on this story or other ACOTAR fanfics, let me know and I'll gladly start a taglist.

[watercolor-hearts]

So if you can answerr the ao3 wrapped: 5 6 15 and 29 please 😊

[Ao3 wrapped – Ask me about my stories/writing this year.]

Hi 😊 Of course I can. Thank you so much for asking. Long post ahead because... I love talking about writing/my stories. 😂❤

5. Has a work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

Yes, Broken Hearts and Broken Dreams: 14 subscriptions, 2875 hits, 131 kudos, 5 comments, 9 bookmarks.

When I posted my first Lestappen story (not this one) I was surprised how quickly the hits and kudos count climbed. And then I realized Lestappen was the top ship. (For me it's always Maxiel so that's why it was surprising.) And in case of this story the big amount of feedback was also surprising because it's about non-planned pregnancy, abortion and it's... not about easy topics. But it was nice to see people liked it so much. (It's my number one story if we view them by hits count.)

6. Favorite title you used

I don't have artsy titles, I usually just pick something from the story and make it the title so they're really basic but I still can't choose only one so here are all my faves:

Battle scar; Broken Hearts and Broken Dreams; In Sickness and In Health; Blood, sweat and tears; and Home.

15. What WIP are you taking into next year with you?

For sure I'm gonna take In Sickness and In Health/Depressed Seb AU with me into next year because I still have a lot of story ideas for it. I'm planning to finish at least one this year but I'm sure I'll write for this au next year too. Having this little universe means a lot to me. ❤

And I think I'll also take my Charlos mpreg/premature birth/male lactation story into next year because even though I stopped talking about it, I still want to write it (uni was a bit too much and I had no time to write. But tomorrow (now today because it's now past midnight as I finish this post) is my last day so I hope I'll be able to write again soon.)

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

Now this is a difficult one because so far I've written 47 stories this year. (Big big thanks to Em and Nyx for sending me my first ever prompts and giving me a chance to start this amazing journey. ❤ And also big thanks to everyone who has ever sent me a prompt. It means a lot. ❤)

Now I'm gonna try and list as few of my fave lines as I can because I don't want to copy and paste all of my fave stories here but it's not always easy. 😂 (Mission (kind of) failed. Sorry.)

In Sickness and In Health

In sickness and in health, they say. Seb and Kimi knew it well.

•

“Just a little snack,” Seb said, heading to the kitchen. He knew he needed to eat but there were times when it wasn't that easy. But for Kimi, he tried. Kimi saved him, he’ll always try for him.

•

Seb was holding on to Kimi’s upper arm like he was scared Kimi would leave him alone. Not that Kimi wanted to do that. He would never leave Seb alone.

•

He knew his back would be dead if he slept there but, to be honest, the only thing he cared about was his lover on top of him, sleeping peacefully; a calm moment after all the storms of the last few weeks, even months. Therapy sessions, arguments, struggles with the food he was supposed to eat, and long nights filled with crying; it wasn’t easy. It’s never easy but now there’s always light at the end of the tunnel. 

Maybe I deserve all of this

“You know, when people see someone crying, they usually say something like ‘please don’t cry, it’s going to be alright’ because they… they don’t really know what to do when someone cries. Nobody really teaches you what to do.

•

“Can you… Can you take off your t-shirt?” George asked a few moments later.

“Already want me half naked, I see you, Georgie,” Alex teased, giving a quick kiss on George’s head before taking off his t-shirt.

“Just want to feel your skin,” George murmured, “And your heartbeat.”

•

“I wouldn't compare pain,” Alex said, “because it’s not something you can or should compare. It’s not about whose pain is worse. Everybody’s pain is valid and they deserve to get comforted if they want to.

•

We all have moments like this; when we’re vulnerable and just want someone to hold us.”

“And it’s one of the best things in the world when you have someone to hold you.”

I will kill you (but I will kill André first)

“Fuck,” Sam muttered under his breath, finally giving in and leaning back.

“Please wait with that,” André said, jokingly, making Jev laugh and Sam smile in disbelief. “I'm sure you could give a great lap dance to Jev but I don't want to see it. At least not this close.”

“I can't believe you, Lotterer,” Sam shook his head, laughing, “I fucking can't believe you.”

I'm breathing...

“Lewis, do I have to call a doctor?”

Lewis immediately shook his head. “No, it's okay, it's just… I just…” Lewis huffed as he tried to tilt his head back to open his airways more and let the air fill his lungs. He tried hard not to let panic fully take over his mind as the anxiety reached the top.

“Try to sit up,” advised Bono and tried to help Lewis by putting his hand on the driver's back, between his shoulder blades, to support him. “I know it's not easy now but try to breathe slowly,” the engineer advised as he caressed Lewis' back. “You can control your body. Trust yourself.”

The driver nodded, tilted his head back again, and closed his eyes to concentrate on his breathing. He felt like he couldn't get enough air into his lungs no matter how hard he tried or which breathing technique he used.

“You can do it, Lewis,” said Bono in his usual calm voice, “I know you can do it. Try to make these small breaths a little longer. If you manage to control your breathing, your heart will slow down too and then the strange feeling in your chest will go away.”

Home

“Your heartbeat sounds like home,” Seb said, breaking the silence a few moments later.

“Really?” Kimi asked, surprised. Seb has always been the cheesier one, but after everything that happened, this hit really close to home for Kimi. 

[theangrypokemaniac]

Ma and Pa James's Second Biggest Fan (we plough a lonely furrow) continues to find Ma Jess's appeal mystifying, since everything about her is negative:

1. Signing up for Team Rocket suggests someone of a morally dubious character to start with, but the truth lies in the clothing, and she's in black!

Black!

It's code for her personality:

• Jessie wears white:

Pure, beautiful, innocent, sweet-natured, not really bad, dealt a severe hand in life but a fighter.

• Cassidy wears black:

EVIL!!! EVIL, EVIL, EEEEEEVUL!!! FOUL SIRENIC TEMPTRESS!!! EVIL HEARTLESS BITCH STEALING JAMES'S NEVER-BEFORE-SEEN WEEPINBELL!!!

Speaking of which:

2. She was Madame Boss's best agent.

You don't get there being kind.

To reach that standing requires hundreds of successful heists, and we aren't talking nicking gold bars. It's living things.

How many Pokémon do you imagine she stole with merciless efficiency?

How many children did she set upon, pinching every animal they had?

How many innocent lives did she ruin by depriving kids of the pets they loved, never to see them again, eaten away with the not-knowing and the false hope?

The glory of her reign ran on the fuel of blood and tears.

What fate do you envision awaited those Pokémon? It's not exchanging one master for another, it's entering slavery.

Jessie and James aren't the epitome of Team Rocket. They are minnows on the outskirts, despised and mocked by most of their fellow members. The actual group isn't particularly famous for prioritizing Pokémon welfare.

The preferable outcome is being handed out to agents to help catch other victims. Otherwise it's transformation into a war machine, forced to fight on and on to the point of exhaustion and death, no doubt tortured and tested on to boot.

What happens if they don't come up to scratch or are pushed for years until too aged and broken to be of any use? Are Team Rocket ready to pension them off to animal sanctuary?

As if. It's euthanasia or on to the streets to waste away, if not fed to the strongest first.

Ma Jess knew this and worse occurred thanks to her, yet paid it no mind, and felt not a single twinge of guilt in that time of service, then met her end trying to draw another Pokémon into imprisonment.

Some might say it was a case of what goes around, comes around. As her behaviour led to God knows how many Pokémon dying alone, leaving their loved ones to wonder and grieve, so in turn did she die alone in the snow, and Jessie had to carry on without her.

I'm not against Ma Jess, I neither feel like or dislike, but I don't understand how so many fans can happily overlook her murky past of inflicting pain, instead elevating her to a semi-divine tragic heroine, yet apparently Ma and Pa's heinous offences of not stealing and treating Pokémon well are beyond forgiveness.

3. It's the Red Ribbon Army! Save yourselves!

Jessie joined Team Rocket to follow in Ma's footsteps. James went with her. Both moved (upwardly in scale, downwardly in morals) from Sunny Town's gang of petty thief kids to a complex Mafia organisation stretching its wriggling tentacles around the world to crush the air from its lungs.

Why? Ma Jess's baleful influence led the two down that path.

Of course Jessie wants to copy Ma, how and where else can she feel close to her?

There's not even a grave to visit!

Rising in the ranks and Giovanni's favour is both to strike it rich and take her place, becoming Ma in essence. That would make her proud, which is all Jessie ever wanted.

What alternative is there? Stay with Chopper and Tyra forever, ekeing an existence pickpocketing and shoplifting, until mortality comes calling sooner than is welcome, or get loaded quickly and retire early?

James theoretically could've gone home at this point, but when it came to which angry redhead he preferred to beat him up, he chose Jessie.

He was henceforth obliged to go whenever she led, even if it meant following the ghost of her mother into the jaws of evil.

They have an excuse, but what was Ma's for getting involved?

However much they boast and revel in their wickedness, the motto proves the couple still believe themselves on a noble quest, despite everything to the contrary, and why?

Jessie isn't about to accept that Ma Jess, whom she's probably idolized as one of few people to love her and a role model of how a woman should be, was nasty or unpleasant. If she was in Team Rocket, it must be good, whatever the outer appearance.

Except Jessie and James are bad at being bad. They are not master criminals. All their plans fail, rendering them poor and starving in consequence. The inner circle of Team Rocket will always be barred to them because they lack the inner darkness it requires.

The joke is they flourish in any other occupation, whether that be Salon Rocquet, reporters, or flogging merchandise and food at the League. If employed elsewhere they'd be better off, but they have to stay because Jessie can't let go, or bear the thought she might be a disappointment to her mother's name. A different career looks unworthy by comparison.

What, so Ma and Pa have got no son because of Ma Jess? They just wanted him to be a gentleman!

If she hadn't set such a terrible example to her daughter she might have an increased quality of life, but then had she done so Ma wouldn't be dead in the first place.

4. Can't pick 'em can she?

What was it that first attracted Ma to Windy Miller? Does she go for the rustic charm, or the promise of a lifetime's supply of bread to feed the abundance of babies planned?

Don't do it, Ma! He's an alky!

Some birds are like that you see. It's the maternal instinct gone haywire. They find a local reprobate and somehow decide he's really a damaged soul crying out for love, the scapegoat of a cruel society.

He's not evil, he's just misunderstood!

This is why you get nutters wanting to marry the Yorkshire Ripper: they put his 'mischief' down to bad women mistreating his gentle heart, but they of course are devoted to his happiness. They can change him.

You don't know him like I do!

In their fantasy, under the influence of a 'proper' woman he'll transform in to a flower-picking hippie, but not too much, they still like him to be dangerously 'manly' (keeps 'em on their toes), then they can feel smugly superior and more truly female than the 'lesser' breed who failed to tame his sexy pashuns.

And if there's one thing Windy has in abundance, it's raw animal magnetism.

Stop it, Ma! You can't help those who don't want helping!

She put up with the boozing, the flour dust and his somewhat limited communication skills, but what really let him down was the company he kept.

Ever after she would insist Pugh, Pugh, Barney McGrew, Cuthbert, Dibble and Grub led him astray. That's firemen for yer.

Cuthbert? That name's died out.

Sure enough, some point after Ma Jess was stuffed up the spout, old Windy legged it back to Camberwick Green, like the rascal he is, and not a sweet penny piece did she receive in maintenance, the bastard.

At least Ma James got pregnant by a man who stood by her.

She wasn't married to Windy Miller!

Oh, you mean they were living over the brush? I see.

It's all in your head!

Do it my way, and we have Pa Jess. Do it yours, and we're back to a cavernous emptiness. Unless you can supply a picture of the 'real' (pffft) Pa Jess, this is the best available.

Anyway, 'Jessie Miller' just sounds right.

Coincidence? I think not.

5. She went to look for Mew dressed like this.

I could forgive it had she gone in her normal uniform, that's just whimsy, but to have made some effort emphasises that it's not enough!

Some part of her understood a mountain might be a bit parky out, but this was deemed sufficient coverage!

What happened?

She bloody died didn't she?!

6. Ma Boss points the way to doom.

Ma Jess was at least loyal to the mistress she served, but it was a wasted dedication. She squandered her life obeying a heartless virago who could cast aside apparently valued staff without a qualm, whatever thanks she owed them.

The millions Ma Jess accumulated for Madame are probably uncountable, yet she was so worthless that, when dispatched to the mountain, on her own, expected to catch a Legendary Pokémon, by herself, which many doubted even existed, and wasn't likely to come quietly, or put up with orders, but then didn't come back, Madame Boss allowed her only child to sink into poverty and the infamous 'care' of the State.

Everyone knows what goes on there. Entering a home has replaced the workhouse as the place of dread.

Jessie might have been killed or attacked and it didn't remotely concern Madame Boss, unwilling to spare a meagre fraction of her massive fortune to give the girl she made an orphan any comfort or security.

What did she matter? Her mother failed. Why reward that?

In her turn, Jessie became just as obsequious to an undeserving master, who went further than his mama and actively tried to murder her, and still she suffers to please him.

Team Rocket devoured her mother, and now it's swallowed her.

Oh, and Madame Boss got her way upon discovering Mew's fossil, so Ma Jess died for nothing.

7. This.

I'm not surprised Mew wouldn't go with Ma. She probably sensed the vivisection awaiting, and didn't give a toss about the avalanche in revenge.

Mew hasn't got where she is today falling for any old shallow promises from a stranger, thank you.

Suppose the mission had worked, with Mew caught and gift wrapped for Madame's delectation: what then?

Perhaps Mew's power, proving so impressive, would've pushed any cloning scheme aside, leaving Mewtwo unborn and Mew as the mightiest weapon. Or in greed Madame Boss demands more, and in arrogance the scientists promise the earth, the seas and the heavens.

Mew I could see subjected to some non-lethal form of dissection, just to understand how she ticked, that is if they could build the cage to hold her.

As they couldn't, and catching Mew was never a possibility, then Ma Jess's sacrificed herself on a fool's errand, which was obviously one from the outset. If Mew was easy to handle she'd have been captured long before now.

Either Ma dies, Mew's safe, but Madame Boss starts the cloning scheme anyway, or Ma's victorious, Mew is a tool of Team Rocket and the scientists have more sample to experiment upon. Mewtwo is still made, alongside short-lived creations and dozens of unseen freakish abominations preceding.

Now Mewtwo isn't what you call at peace with himself, nor has he received a particularly wholesome experience. One could think Ma indirectly caused that. Her branch of the project may have fizzled to cinders but she still played her role.

What would her legacy have been but to help bring forth the being that wiped out mankind? Where's the future for Jessie when there isn't one?

It's not her fault, but she died in the name of cloning a biological disaster, the creation of synthetic life leading to the destruction of it all.

8. Let's have a gander at Ma in the anime:

• Can afford rent.

• Can afford a tray.

• Can afford crockery.

• Can afford condiments to add flavour to food.

• Can't afford any actual food.

Something's wrong there.

I intended to include affording clothes too, but now I'm not so sure.

I never took Ma to be a brown-all-over kind of woman. At least she gave the fancy stuff to Jessie.

For years I've assumed she wore a brightly coloured jacket, but now I suspect it's a red one heavily patched up, because buying a replacement isn't an option.

Really old clothes are being mended with whatever can be salvaged from even more worn-out clobber.

Best agent Madame Boss has and she's practically living in her own filth.

Team Rocket takes care of its own, eh?

Oh no, let's not get a proper job, one that allows me to provide for my daughter and doesn't ask for my life. Let's stay in this one!

9. Look at Jessie's face!

By her own admission, being tricked into eating snow is the best thing that ever happened to her during an 'otherwise wretched childhood', to the extent she doesn't know it was wrong!

I don't hear Ma and Pa doing that. The only ice James got was an ice-cream sandwich.

What kind of infancy did Ma Jess give the girl for her to be nostalgic about almost dying of malnutrition?

If we say that's a foster mother as in the sub, it means Jessie's fondest memory is after Ma died, which is too brutal for me.

Yeah, thank goodness she's snuffed it.

You think Ma might have taught her not to eat snow! She left her so ill-prepared!

Consequently the sub version makes Ma Jess an awful creature, although I don't see why that Jessie would so desire to mimic a mom she apparently doesn't care about.

10. She's not even bloody here!

I have no picture to signify absence, therefore I must show whom she left behind.

Ma Jess is Pokémon's answer to Bobba Fett: background figure, barely involved, no information, dies early, yet became a fan favourite nevertheless.

If nothing really exists, what is there to like? Why are you contented weaving smoke?

When Rocketshippers put forward the manga as proof, the Anti-Ships used to insist that it 'didn't count' for being set in a 'separate universe'.

If that still goes, and only the contents of the anime apply to the anime, well then it's bye-bye to Ma Jess and Madame Boss, because they aren't real either.

I sometimes think that's true. However traumatic, would Jessie not have acknowledged her mother by now otherwise?

We grasp the characters all had two parents in a nebulous fashion, although not being real people means they don't 'technically' need them, but Ma Jess is the only one who vanished to be granted a face. Why is she then ignored?

She's briefly glimpsed in a passing scene of a single episode of the first series and is never seen or referenced again. The sub doesn't even have that. Where was the use in creating her if only to leave that thread of the tale billowing in the breeze?

We may decide her actions affect Jessie's but we're only imprinting assumptions. She might as well have remained unwritten for all that's made of her.

What we can glean doesn't bode well, irrespective of things left unmentioned.

Her one redeeming deed was dying, thus at least she didn't choose to abandon Jessie. We may presume she'd have stayed with her girl given the chance.

By my reckoning that puts her as Fifth-Best Mother Of Pokémon, behind Ma Brock, Ma James, Dame Ketchum and Ma Boss, in that order.

Then they're those who claim she never died, so she just pissed off like everyone else, rendering her devoid of a single positive quality.

This is the woman you sigh and agonise over for decades.

Ma and Pa are right there, man! Show 'em some love!

[btskismet]

Kismet (Chapter 18): A BTS Jin Imagines Fanfic

First ever fanfic. Contains some fluff and smut. Please read sequentially as it is a long story arc. Please provide feedback! My IG is btskismet.

November 7, 1944

Jun-seok was staring at a short Japanese man with a funny mustache. It was as if this man was trying to copy Adolf Hitler's tiny mustache. However, his mustache didn't seem to grow as well as Hitler's so it was half the length of the German dictator's, which made it look slightly skewed.

He expected for the Shosa (Major) to look a little more... refined. After all, he was the highest ranking officer in this district so far. He overheard that General Isumi was traveling to the capital of the country but would be back soon. So, Shosa Kimori would be calling the shots in this district for sure.

The man was smoking a tabacco as he was sitting inside what used to be a meeting room in the government building. He was looking at several papers placed on top of the table beside him.

He saw that he was looking at the military application form he filled out when he applied to be part of the Japanese Army. As the man looked at each page intently, Jun-seok shifted his weight while standing, anxiously waiting for what he had to say.

"So you know how to speak both Japanese and Korean, eh?", the man asked.

"Hai, Shosa Kimori", Jun-seok answered with a loud voice.

"Oh, I'm not Shosa Kimori. I'm Tai-i (Captain) Yuzawa. The Shosa couldn't meet you today. He went to the next town."

Jun-seok bowed really low and expressed his apologies. He felt stupid and for sure, he would be getting a beating. What a horrible mistake.

"It's alright. Stand up. I have another question for you.". Captain Yuzawa said, motioning Jun-seok to stand up straight.

"Do you know how to speak English?", the Captain asked, looking up to Jun-seok with one of his eyebrows raised.

Jun-seok hesitated. He thought he might need to lie because he might be sent to the enemy lines if he said he didn't speak it well enough, especially after what he said earlier. Would it matter if he didn't?

Before he was about to respond, the Captain raised his right hand and waved it slightly in front of his face. He was letting Jun-seok know that he didn't need to answer. "If you don't know, it's fine. The Mayor has someone in his family who can speak Japanese. It's important that you can speak both Japanese and Korean. Not all the locals speak very good English either."

Captain Yuzawa sets aside the papers and stands up to look out the window. He smoothens the creases on his pants. Jun-seok can tell that this man was stern and very detail-driven - his office was impeccably clean and all items on his desk, though minimal, were placed in a very purposeful way. Nothing was out of place.

When he faced Jun-seok, he started to speak in a very firm voice and said, "First of all, I don't agree having you here, Ittohei (first class private) Sakurai. We are having problems with some of the platoons here so if you do the job Shosa Kimori wants you to do, I think it will cause more trouble."

The Captain came up close to Jun-seok, peering into his eyes as they were of the same height. "Do you think you can speak to your fellow stubborn-minded Koreans to stop killing the populace?"

Jun-seok was flabbergasted in so many levels with the Captain's question. Yes, he heard the blatant insult to his race but what perplexed him was the fact that they were killing people and he was challenged to stop them.

"I will do my very best, Captain.", Jun-seok said as firmly as he possibly could. He knew he wasn't as confident as he would've liked, especially in front of this man who has profound disdain of his presence.

"Tch.", the Captain muttered and sat back down. "Dozo", he said and offered the seat across his table for Jun-seok to sit on. "I have a lot to share regarding your orders. Sit."

They spoke for almost an hour about what Jun-seok was ordered to do. It involved him knowing all the Korean platoon leaders and soldiers in the camp.

Lieutenant Akagi aka Gang Cheol was the one the army had most trouble with. Since he was the only commanding officer in certain remote areas of the district, he was the one who gave orders of having several locals killed on the spot. He also executed them as well. Though he was diligent in following orders from up top, if he was the lone officer with his platoon, he would exercise brutality in the most horrid way. 

“Lieutenant Akagi's platoon is fiercely loyal to him because they are all Koreans. But a few follow him because they are afraid to be beaten up.”, the Captain said with a bit of displeasure. Jun-seok thought that the Captain probably had several issues with Lt. Akagi in the past. After all, the lieutenant reported to him. He must’ve been reprimanded before in not being able to keep Lt. Akagi in line, he thought.

"We are stern and brutal if we need to be, especially to set examples to the locals. But if we just randomly kill them, then it doesn't serve our purpose here. Plus the Shosa is friends with the Mayor and he needs to have the coffee fields removed so we can build the tarmac. But he can't just order them to be done or else he destroys the friendship he has with the Mayor."

"Why is the Shosa friends with the Mayor of the town?", Jun-seok asked.

"Wouldn't you be if the man saved your life?"

The Shosa was in camp the first few days he arrived to the country and then rebel forces infiltrated it. A bullet struck the Shosa's abdomen and was bleeding heavily. The Mayor was on his way to the camp since he was summoned minutes before the fighting broke out and to take cover, he went inside the tent where the Shosa was at. He saw him and instead of running away, he dragged him to a nearby jeep and drove to the town hospital and had him treated. If he didn't do that, the Shosa would've died.

"Since then, Shosa Kimori wants to respect the Mayor and his community's needs to keep the town's resources running and for them to keep supporting us. Akagi and his platoon's antics are ruining those chances."

Jun-seok assessed how dangerous this was going to be. He knew that he would have extreme difficulty dealing with Akagi-san if he found out that Jun-seok is really Kim Man-seok's son. He had to make sure they thought of him as purely Japanese. But he won't be able to communicate with them if that's the case; they would shut him out.

"Captain, none of them must ever know that I am Kim Man-seok's son." Jun-seok said hurriedly. "Or else I'll never get close to them."

The Captain nodded in agreement. “Yes, you would have that difficulty. We have to make sure they don’t know. Did your face appear in any of the photos in the newspaper?”

Jun-seok tried hard to remember. He knew it was only photos of his father and brother that appeared in the papers. Since he was younger then, his mother made sure that he was not exposed to the media as his father and brother were recovering in the hospital.

“No. I’m sure of it”, he replied to the Captain.

“Alright then. You are to mingle with the rest of the platoon and make sure to get the others soldiers to change their mind about Akagi so they will follow him less. If Akagi sees that his soldiers are not as loyal to him, he would be less confident and then we can easily move him out of the platoon. If we did that now, his platoon will rebel against the higher officers and we will never get anywhere. Knowing them, they would kill everyone on sight. And I don’t want to lose soldiers anymore by executing them. We still have the rebel factions to deal with and I have less troops as it is.”   

Jun-seok nodded and understood his orders. He also surmised that he had to be crafty to make this work. His life depended on it too. Looking at Captain Yuzawa, he wasn’t one who would accept failure. He wouldn’t hesitate to execute Jun-seok if he failed.

“Before we assign you to the barracks to meet the platoon, you will have to report to the Jun-i (Warrant Officer) Watanabe. He handles our military equipment and you’ll be reporting to him. He is aware of your ‘other’ mission and agreed to help you.”

Jun-seok’s face lit up as soon as the Captain mentioned about the warrant officer and the latter noticed. “Yes, you are getting what you wanted, private. We are not going to let your skills go to waste. After all, you are going to work to get that tarmac built - it’s only fitting you get to work with actual aircraft.”

“Yes, sir! You can count on me, sir!”, Jun-seok said, beaming because of this news.

“You are dismissed.” 

Jun-seok stepped out of the office and was given information by the other private outside. He had to pick up supplies from the local market and meet the warrant officer there.

He couldn’t contain his happiness with the news. Finally! I’ll be able to do what I really wanted to do.

Jun-seok was pleased and he did a bit of a skip as he was walking to the market. He was smiling to himself, thinking of what it would be like to get close to an actual fighter plane. “I hope I can work on a Zero* or even the new Hayate**! That would be so cool!”, he thought with a huge smile. 

He was jostled from his thoughts of fighter planes when he reached the market. It was a busy area that morning and he was surprised that a lot of the locals were there and it was pretty noisy. He noticed that the locals didn’t seem to be too scared of the soldiers here as they were also quietly mingling with them, buying produce and food. The locals were selling their wares of vegetables, fruits, rice and fish. The smell of coffee was pretty strong as there were stalls brewing coffee and selling coffee beans. 

He came upon one stall and looked at the beans being sold. They were of good quality and they smelled wonderful. A young man talked to him in broken Japanese, asking if he wanted some. He said yes and he was given a small bag of ground coffee. When he was about to pay, the man decline. “Muryo de (free of charge)! Ok?”, the man said.

He bowed and thanked the man. As he walked away, he put the bag near his nose. The coffee smelled so good and this made Jun-seok smile. But he stopped in his tracks when he was in front of the sundries store where he was to meet Warrant Officer Watanabe.

“There she is again.”, he muttered. He was looking at the young woman he saw earlier who helped the man who was beaten up by the soldier. She was still wearing the same clothes and the nice 1940s hairstyle she had. She was smiling and talking with a Japanese officer in a very respectful yet comfortable way. he could see that the officer was smiling and acknowledging her, pleased that they were conversing.

She was bowing slightly for every comment the officer gave and though she moved respectfully, he could see that she was comfortable in her own skin. Like she was not about to be bossed around. She was very confident, even though she was acting gracefully and respectfully towards the superior officer. 

“She really is beautiful.I wonder who she is.”, he thought, observing her intently.

He started walking towards her and the officer but as he was about to approach them, she started saying goodbye to the officer.

“Gokigen'yō, Jun-i! Atode mata hanashimashou!” (Have a nice day, Officer. Talk to you later!), the lady said to the officer and waved. She didn’t look where she was going and bumped into him, which startled her. 

“Ah, gomen nasai, Yakuin (I’m sorry, officer)!”, she said loudly and bowed her head low.

Jun-seok gave a short chuckle as soon as she bowed, finding her quick change of disposition amusing. Because of this, it made her look up quizzically.

“Daijobu desu (It’s fine).”, he said softly. This made her stand up straight and bowed slight before walking away quickly. 

He looked back as she walked away, quite curious about this beautiful woman who was sparky and exciting underneath the surface. And to his surprise again, she looked back at him with that intense stare before walking away.

“I will meet you again.”, he declared in his mind before his attention was called by someone.   

 - - - to be continued - - -

*Mitsubishi A6M fighter plane - used by the Japanese army from 1940 to 1945

**Nakajima Ki-84 - a well-known Japanese fighter plane introduced in WW II in November 1944

[scft-aep]

You Lied (Peter Parker x Reader, pt. 2/2)

Words: 1000+

Summary: part 2. You regret telling Peter everything immediately. Fortunately for you, a certain friendly-neighbourhood-superhero comes to pay you a visit.

Genre: sad fluff/tiny tiiiny bit of angst.

A/n: This actually sucks, I’m sorry. Again, I’m trying to find a really good prompt list, so maybe you all can send me some requests?

You lazily looked out into the sunset in front of you from your balcony. The deep purples, crimsons and oranges splashed across the once baby blue sky. You felt a cool breeze graze your face, and shivered. You quickly pulled Peter's hoodie over your arms, in an attempt to keep yourself warmer. You silently chuckled slightly as you saw how big the hoodie was on you. The arms went way past yours and the waistband of the hoodie almost reached your knees. Yes, you were wearing his hoodie. I mean, you had nothing to loose, right?

You sighed, "well, he probably hates me now. I’m such an idiot!"

"I can assure you, you aren’t."

Your head whipped around to the voice behind you, only to see the Spiderman himself.

You stared at him, "uh, hi?"

Spiderman chuckled at your confused state. You swore that laugh sounded familiar. "Look, just try not to freak out, okay? I'm not gonna harm you." He said, walking up to you and grabbing you by the waist. He pulled you closer to his chest, so close that you could feel his warm breath fan over the top of your head.

"I don't understand, why are you-"

"Oh and uh, whatever you do, do not let go." He stated.

His arm reached up and a web emitted from his hand, pulling the both of you upwards. You squealed and wrapped your arms around his waist, squishing your body as close as you could to his. He swung you away from the small balcony railing, and into the streets of Queens.

You tried your hardest to not look down, but your eyes failed you, and you glanced under you, seeing the small scatters of people and cars which looked like ants. You shoved your head in to the crook of Spiderman's neck, trying to not feel sick from how high you were. Spiderman -Peter- smiled from under his mask, loving the feeling of how tight you were holding on to him for dear life, silently praying that he wouldn't drop you accidentally. Instead, Peter would protect you with his life.

Spiderman kept swinging you both, until he reached onto the top of a building, where you both landed. He gently lifted you down until your bare feet padded onto the roof of the building.

You stepped away from him, looking at him in shock, and exclaimed, "Why on Earth would you do that?"

Peter sighed," look, Y/N, there's something I need to tell you.."

"Oh, you need to tell me something? Don't you have to save the world from danger, or whatever you people do? I mean, look, I-"

Spiderman took his mask off, and when he did, your eyes widened, and your jaw slightly dropped.

"Peter?"

"Hi Y/N" Peter slightly smiled.

"Wait, so, you're Spiderman? How?? Does Ned know? Oh my gosh, Peter, you risk your life to save people? You're basically putting your life on the line!" You shouted, clearly pissed at him.

"Look, Y/N, I-" He started, taking a step forward, but you took a step back.

"No! I don't want to hear it! You lied to your own best friend! The one who was always been there for you ever since we were kids. The one who gave you the red crayon when you'd thought you lost it, when you had just dropped it. The one who always let you copy her homework cause you never had time to do it yourself. The one who cared and loved you more than anyone else. Peter, you lied to me." You said, tears spilling against your cheeks as you desperately tried to hold in a sob.

Here you were, crying in front of Peter Parker, the boy you've loved ever since you were kids.

Peter felt his heart break seeing the broken girl cry. He hated it. He hated lying to his best friend. He hated being the reason she was crying. That was when Peter realised. He realised that he didn't really love Liz. He loved you. The girl standing right in front of him. The girl who has been with him since day 1. He wanted to stop you from crying and take your pain away so bad, but all he could do was hug you. So he did. He walked forward and wrapped his arms around your small, shaking frame.

"No! Stop hugging me! I swear, if you-" you struggled against his strong grip, trying to get away.

"Let go of me!" You shouted, still trying to fight away, but he hugged you tighter. Soon, you grew weaker and your tears got the best of you. You broke down in Peter's arms and slowly wrapped your arms around his waist, sobbing against his chest.

You both dropped to the floor, Peter shifting you into a more comfortable position, and grasped you tighter. One hand was smoothing down your hair, and the other was gripping your waist.

"Shh, it's okay love, everything's okay" he whispered into your hair, slowly swaying you back and forth.

You soon calmed down and your sobs were quietened into sniffles.

"I'm so, so sorry" You whispered, cautiously looking up at him.

"No, I'm the one that should be sorry. I hid a huge secret from my best friend, which I shouldn't have. I'm sorry." He said, looking back at you.

"Love," he hesitated, looking as if he was hiding something.

"Yes?"

"I love you too. As in, love love.." he mumbled.

You lifted your head off his chest, and looked at him in shock. "I thought you liked Liz?"

Peter shook his head vigorously, "No, I thought I did, but all this time, I love you. I love you so fucking much Y/N" He said, his hands letting go of your waist to cup your cheeks.

He brought his face down to your plump lips, his only just grazing yours.

"I. Love. You." His lips finally placed on top of your own. Your hands snaked around his neck as they kissed.

Your lips moulded together as if you both were made for each other. God, are they soft. The kiss wasn't rough or uncomfortable, in fact it was sweet and gentle. Peter held you as if he was holding a glass ornament, as if you could break any second. You both broke the kiss, gasping for breath. You placed your forehead against his and smiled.

Peter opened his eyes and admired the beauty in front of him. You finally opened your eyes and looked up at the boy.

"Why are you staring at me like that? Is there something on my face?" You wiped your face, trying to get whatever it was off.

Peter chuckled and moved your hands away, "It's cause you're so beautiful," He leant down and placed a small peck on your lips, making you smile even more.

Peter grabbed onto your hand, grinning so wide at the fact that your soft, dainty hand was so small in comparison to his. He intertwined his fingers with yours.

"Y/N?" He questioned. You hummed in response.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" He blurted out.

Your eyes widened, "are you being serious? Yes!" You exclaimed in happiness, wrapping your arms around him so fast, that he toppled over on to the roof's floor. You crashed your lips on to his, this time very passionately. He rolled over, so he was on top of you. His lips explored yours as his hands roamed your waist, slightly lifting your -his- hoodie to rest them on the skin exposed.

Peter unconnected your lips. You opened your eyes and pouted, "Why did you stop? I was enjoying it, Parker" you mumbled, making him chuckle.

"Come on, it's getting late" he said, lifting you off the ground and into his arms.

"You know, I can walk by myself" you stated.

"I know" he smiled, making you laugh. Suddenly, he stopped walking.

"Wait, does this mean I can call you babe?" He asked. You giggled, and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Of course it does, you dimwit!"

Taglist: @marvelavengings @spider-quackson @spideymahn @peter-parker-stories @peterplanet @avengersimagine @cutehollands @lookclosernow