#if I must have these thoughts I'm inflicting them upon everyone else too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kanonavi · 3 months

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hello tumblr user kanonavi who is 1/3rd of the reason i started rereading tgcf. i have come to collect my personal apology for the emotional damages inflicted upon me for the past 5 days. and i have also come with THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS (mostly feelings)

- icb i put off this reread so long hualian are so romance. theyre jsut Romance......... absolutely floored by every throwaway bit of dialogue they had....... in shambles forever....,

- sqx arc was not as painful as the first few times i read it bc i now stand with my cancelled wife (he xuan) I STILL LOVE SQX AND THEY DESERVE EVERYTHING GOOD. BUT HX WAS REAL FOR ALL OF THAT. i love revenge

- i wanna know your thoughts on ling wen bc u mentioned having mixed feelings on her but i loved her so bad all the way to the end so im curious ljdkdjf

- i am not immune to backstory arc pt2. read it last last (?) night at like 3am and cried myself to sleep its just so gutting every timeeeeeee.... the hc plot that builds in that arc is ofc one of my favorites in the entire novel though :')

- the chapter w the cave of statues took me like 2+ hours to get through because i was feeling so insane abt it

i feel bad dropping this block of text in ur askbox sorry. will leave it there for now LOL

Omg hiiiii tumblr user stardust-make-a-wish welcome back from the yaoi cocaine pit :3 I know you're here to collect emotional damages, but I must make it known that I'm not even remotely sorry <3

Also you should feel bad for yourself instead of for me because I can only respond to huge blocks of text with even bigger blocks of text, so (TGCF Spoilers Ahead) and also I am so sorry lmaooooo

UGH you're so right that hualian is the most romance forever they are just so *clenches fists and sobs*....... They're always there for each other and they're so in love and they've been through so much and I just want them to be able to rest because it's what they deserve.

I will never once say that Hu Xuan wasn't justified in everything he did cuz like. Shi Wudu had it coming what a piece of shit. But at the same time Qingxuan is my wife and I will not tolerate my wife being harmed. So like revenge slay yes but also I am still cancelling He Xuan and spraying him with the water bottle (even though he is already very very damp).

Yesyesyes Ling Wen. So my thought about Ling Wen is that she kinda girlbossed a little too close to the sun, but at the same time you look at her circumstances both past and present and have to understand why she did all of that. It already would have been hard enough for her to gain any kind of recognition as a woman, much less in the Heavenly Court, so her ruthlessness is completely understandable. But at the same time, I don't really think the Brocade Immortal deserved what she did to him nor was taking Bai Wuxiang's side in the final conflict a real cool thing of her to do. I can't fully be a hater though because her own thoughts about everything are clearly so nuanced (See: The final convo she had with Xie Lian about the Brocade Immortal, which I am still thinking so incredibly hard about to this day).

I think that Ling Wen is interesting in the same way that I find other characters like Mu Qing, He Xuan, and Yin Yu interesting. It's in the sense that even if I don't really agree with all of the actions that they took, it's very easy to look at them and come to an understanding of why they did what they did. And I have varying degrees of like for all of the characters I just listed, but that doesn't change the fact that they're all Compelling. So it's almost like a begrudging respect that I feel for Ling Wen, if I were to boil it down into simple terms.

aaaaaaaaaa The Horrors(tm) :sob: Even though I could talk about Xie Lian's arc through that part of his backstory for a million years, you're so right that Hua Cheng's arc through it is also so interesting to watch. It really goes to prove that Hua Cheng is different from everyone else in Xie Lian's life up until this point, because yes there's the very obvious throughline of Hua Cheng wanting to protect Xie Lian (rather than expecting his protection), but even more importantly that feeling never changes even when Xie Lian has his mini corruption arc.

Like, Hua Cheng fell in love with the pure and virtuous Crown Prince of Xianle but not for that quality. Instead of being ashamed and looking at Xie Lian with scorn when he was like "What if I kill everyone actually" Hua Cheng is like "Then let me be your sword". There's the element of not wanting Xie Lian to dirty himself that Hua Cheng carries for the entire story but the point is in that he is not a voice who would tell Xie Lian to stop having those thoughts if it's truly what he wants (Unlike what his parents or Feng Xin and Mu Qing would probably say).

I'm going to write an essay about their character dynamic one day istg I am chewing through the drywall

The cave statues chapter......... *passes away*. Like on one hand that chapter is so funny because yes Hua Cheng is just an absolute certified freak (POV my roommate telling me earlier on in my reading that HC is a porn addict and me being like "pssht noooo" but then getting to this chapter several months later and being like "O h.") but on the other hand THE CONFESSION??????? Like. All I can do is gesture wildly at the storyboard animatic that someone made of that scene on YouTube while absolutely fucking sobbing. There is a reason why the cover of volume 6 felt somehow more intimate than the cover of volume 4 where they're literally making out.

Anyway I'm patting Hua Cheng on the head like It's okay buddy Xie Lian loves you because you're a certified freak, he's seen too much of this world to be weirded out even a little bit. Which is why those two are perfect for each other <3

I'm glad you had so much fun on your reread, have fun with the brainworms :3

#navi answers #stardust-make-a-wish #Once again I am so sorry for my ability to Talk lmao

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mommygrll · 3 months

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New Frame Directives

For Her,

We are attempting a frame-shift operation, the council has convened for an emergency meeting. The evil must be defeated and I'm attempting to jump through time. There are things that simply must be done to shift the frame of the experience. Like, if you've ever had the thought "What if I could call everyone", or in more modern times, "What if we had a Zoom meeting" then this is in that vein. The core of this belief will be incorporated into the code of conduct at headquarters, a sort of radical reorientation of our user experience, it's been truly terrible and we're here to change that. We have three major objectives as of right now: Delete/Disengage hookup apps Block Pests Implementation of a strict sobriety policy

More policies will be incorporated as I venture deeper into my quest through the matrix. The apps have been deleted, and I'll move on to eliminating shortcuts leading to the related websites. I've also unsubscribed from the email portion of the A4A experience. I am footloose and fancy-free. The pest question troubles me, I feel moved to delete the embarrassing number of fire-emoji contacts I've accumulated since my 18th birthday. I need to cause a change. I can get out from under this if I really shape up. I seek to remove all offenders from my WhatsApp, iMessage and wherever else I've allowed them to loiter. This should be an ongoing practice.

I sat down to write this with such "gusto" in my heart. I've cried out against the cycles and can only pray that this appeases Her.

When I got back to my room after my econ exam. It was manageable, i tried my best. I went to rest my eyes and ended up falling asleep. The content of the dream(s) has been difficult to recall with clarity but I can reproduce the general impression.

I was in a strange land and was fleeing danger. I came upon a girl. She might have had a white dress. I tried to find a way to move upwards, in a Spiderman sort of way. I asked where she was, I guess I must have lost her. She said she was all around me. I looked up again and saw that there were these rope sort of things, kind of like bungee cords. I asked her if she could make more and she did. I made my way upwards with great speed, it was kind of like a trampoline. Above us there was some sort of obstacle. She told me to put my hand up, kind of as if I were trying to high five the sky but the situation was pretty intense so I held it up firmly. When hand met with mass, there was a resounding sound, kind of like a perfect block in kung fu panda. We're in a different location, a kind of half-way place. I felt Her leaving, our play had come to and end, I wanted to go with her. She told me, " A human lifetime is a lot bigger than 2 years, it won't be your time for a while" I'm half-awake, we're nearing the end of things. It's time for farewell. It's 6:22 p.m. I look at my dorm room floor, there are two small figures, both short in stature. I ask her "What are these?" She informs me they're here to wake me up, or something to that effect. The first cutely greets me through gesture, she might have curtsied. I realized the second would be something to scare me, so I wasn't wholly afraid, but as it began to ready its jumpscare I say "OK, fine. I'll just wake up" Too wimpy to abide the scare, I jolt awake, heart racing. It's still 6:22 p.m. I miss her but I get a move-on, somewhat shell-shocked. It kind of felt like a video game or some kind of avante-garde animation.

Now I've started writing again, committed myself to easing the torment I inflict on myself, taken some exciting action but still haven't prepared for class tomorrow at all.

Can't have your cake and eat it too. Not all the time, anyway. That's fine.

I feel kind of silly "Why didn't I think about it this way before?" I lament the embarassingly great waste of time and life but I already feel so relieved.

#journaling

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nxiousxpsistence · 10 months

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I say boo you say aight

They say I yell when I speak.

I never do.

They say I insist that I'm right.

on matters I know for a fact that I'm right.

They say I give no leeway

when even the mention of leeway disturbs the cycle of things and so must be repeated.

They say I give no leeway.

I say

This is the only presence I've grown to like.

This is not an invention, but a discovery.

This is the me I'm curious about seeing through 'till the end.

This is what I've been shaped into by everyone around me although I don't remember giving them permission to.

This is me.

"YOU'RE TOO MUCH!"

"I'M AFRAID OF YOU!"

"YOU'RE SELF RIGHTOUS!"

"YOU'RE A FEMINIST/QUEER/TRANSGENDER/FLUID/DEMI/ADHD/OLDERPANSEXUALS/DEPRESSION&ANXIETY/FULLBLOWNAGORAPHOBIA/VISUALSNOW#IMAWARRIOR/WORK/WORK/WORK IS FUN WHEN YOUR DEFAULT IS SUBMISSIVE.

EVEN MORE FUN WHEN IT'S NOT.

This is the only me I've grown to love being.

WHY AREN'T YOU TOO MUCH?

WHY ME REJECTING THINGS DOES ANYTHING IN YOUR WORLD?

WHY DON'T YOU SET YOUR OWN BOUNDARIES RATHER THAN ASKING ME FOR PERMISSION TO DO SO?

The people I preach to be completely honest are incredibly talented at hiding from themselves?

I say, "I'm your sister, I will never ever be cross with you. So, stop apologising". You say, "I'm afraid to say something that might upset you".

Like I don't wish harm on the multiple horrible people that fucked me up?

I have better things to deal with-

like being my favourite version of myself?

becoming more of what I want to see burning inside of me-

and let it kill Mr Bukowski...

The worlds I visit in my mind are far more fun than yours.

I enjoy my journey, albeit as a true submissive, who knew she enjoyed crying since birth. The rising and release are ever more powerful than stasis. Rising and falling and rising and falling into beautiful traps that I literally consented to way before I flipped the coin and held her hand.

And this may not be true.

//All truths//

But it's my truth. The one I'm most comfortable living in. Otherwise this life is dying fast.

I thought the acceleration in the delivery of fuel would empty what was left inside of us much faster than before.

It does, but not that much faster.

So I'm here to enjoy yet another mind-altering, fiendish, drunk, never-boring fete, fluctuating and gyrating at the same time,

ejaculating in the minds of INTERSECTIONALITY (ULAN!!!!)

in a loving embrace.

I've learned how to enjoy pain long ago. About half a century. And I haven't been able to shake it since...

The true submissive is curious about how it would feel to enjoy the ultimate pain of

***SHOCK! HORROR!***

inflicting their will upon someone else and more so upon their beloved master?

The time will come.

I may be dead, but I've got myself some living to do.

And it is far too late to depend on your incredibly persistent will to just leave; you've enjoyed life for way too long to back out now...

AND YOU'VE MADE THE DEAL WITH THEM. YOU'RE THE INFORMER???

I've always wanted to find myself in political drama. Well, we'll see...

And there are some very very very beautiful pansexual people out there, and demis, and neurodivergents, and wonderfully courageous and rightfully so vegans, liberals and conservatives and beautiful people, interpreters, she/her butches, they/them femmes, #worshippable trans people, its!, beautiful thirst traps, sex workers, especially sex workers, [redacted] people whom I have no feeling left but pity for, my exes, my abusers, my mother, my brother, some relatives I never remember the names of, and you, especially you, the one that got away and rightfully so, oh butch people!, women!!! women!!! women!!! boobs :)) chests bearing the beautiful mementos of a war well fought/a nuisance financially solved, intersex people, HIM, XE. ME: Fluid Demi: I love you all.

I'm sorry.

I love you all.

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snowingmelodypoetry · 1 year

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How could I be happy

I'm surrounded by friends in which only a small few are capable of seeing me as me.

I'm surrounded by people I love yet to tell them would be my undoing.

They tell me they love me but it's not the same. It could never be.

For it to ever be so would make me deplorable.

A friend but nothing more. Closer than any two friends could ever possibly be, yet my heart is the furthest it has ever been from a person.

It's not that I am without their love.

Or without love from the others.

It's not that I myself do not love them, nor that I do not love the others.

But my selfish yearning for more-

A self-inflicted wound upon my soul that I knew better than to fall.

The lies I tell myself to cover it up.

The lies I tell them to cover it up.

The stories I create in false hope to trick my own mind- gaslighted by my own emotions-

To fall l for the other- nothing but second best.

It is true.

If I were no such monster I could love another-

Yet to rip their lives from themselves just for me to live another lie I swore myself I would never do-

To suffer in silence after a vow to thrive in a melody.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry to you, for loving you too much for my own well-being.

I'm sorry to another, whom I could love but would never be right.

I'm sorry to myself, for never learning even when I know I could. For continuing to live even when nothing else short from death would be what I desire.

I'm sorry that you all believe I deserve better- that I deserve more.

But you're wrong

You're all wrong

Death would not even be what I deserve.

I am being served what I already deserve.

Life.

To live never having wanted to.

To exist.

From the first seconds, even from before a formal birth- even as a pre-developed thought- I have existed.

Oh what sorrows my existence brings.

Hope to a mother, for whom I've leached from as a babe.

A legacy to a father, for whom I've tarnished more than his own sins have done for him.

A burden to a sister, for whom I've brought too much sorrow and worry.

I only wish to have never existed.

Not as a thought

Not as a person.

Ever.

By merely existing, I thrust my own selfishness into the consciousness of others.

For someone to even think to care for me.

I wish you wouldn't.

For someone to worry,

I wish you wouldn't.

Because you do.

And I could never repay you.

Because it means so much to me.

I cherish it so dearly.

I wish you wouldn't ask me if I'm ok.

I wish you wouldn't make sure I'm home safe.

I wish you would forget about me so I would stop existing in your mind, for I do nothing but bring the worst for everyone, including myself.

I cherish it too much and how ungrateful I must be to feel pain from it.

How selfish of me to wish you away so I could simply stay numb.

I don't deserve your care even when you say I do.

Because if I do deserve it then it hurts even more.

Because I could never be satisfied with that alone.

I am deplorable.

The hell I am in by existing is effortlessly fitting- I only wish in my hellish existence I did not have to bring you down with me.

For me to be honest with you- for which is the only thing I want to do- would destroy all of everything around us.

Even each other

And then that darkness

Would be a worse hell than I'm in now.

I can find no end in sight.

So it may just be better to create one here.

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slut-for-mothman · 3 years

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Hell is For Children

Requested: Yes|No

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid

A/N: Special thanks to @oliverbrnch for editing this chapter and making it into what is is !!! I hope you all enjoy my first CM fanfiction !!!

Summary: After 13 years of trying to forget the man he was supposed to call his father, Spencer finds his phone riddled with messages from his father trying to catch up on "old times". He's met with criticism and shame when he reveals he has no want to talk to him. Everyone seems to think his father deserves a second chance. Everyone except for him. Aaron Hotchner. Logically it made no sense, Aaron had a kid of his own, would he not sympathize with his father for wanting to have a relationship with his son? Spencer finds comfort in the older man. Everytime his phone buzzes with a notification from William Reid, Aaron is always there to comfort him and distract him from the burning hole in his back pocket.

Chapter warnings: Angst, allusions to physical abuse. descriptions of violence and gore, swearing, and I think that's it.

Chapter One

December 16th, 5:15pm

"Hey son, I haven't seen or heard from you in a while. I hope you're doing okay."

Seeing that message was enough to twist the young doctors stomach in such intricate and painful knots he thought he might become violently ill.

"A while?" Spencer muttered to himself as he reread the message over and over. "it's been thirteen years, that's more than a while-"

A second message interrupted his train of thought.

December 16th, 5:27pm

"Why don't you come over sometime? My wife would love to see you, just something to think about..."

This message made something inside him break, the world shattering as his knees failed him. He swore he felt time stop as he reread those nauseating characters.

Wife? Since when was he remarried?

'Does she even know what he did to my mom, to me?' Spencer wondered, unable to tear his eyes away from his phone.

Does she even know she left a ten-year-old alone with his mentally-ill mother? Did she know what a selfish bastard he was?

Did they have kids?

Were they really that easily replaced?

Spencers mind was spinning, his apartment floor unsteady underfoot as his vision blurred. Tears stung his eyes, threatening to slip down his cheeks if he dared to blink.

His misery was interrupted as his phone buzzed once more in his palm.

Thankfully, it wasn't from the dreaded unsaved number, just Hotch.

December 16th, 7:14pm

"We have a case."

Spencer gathered his things, wiping the tears from his eyes on the cuff of his sleeve. He'd never been more grateful to hear those four words in his entire life.

His ride on the metro felt infinitely slower than normal, much to the young doctors dismay. The extra free time gave his mind permission to run away from his as much as it pleased.

His phone vibrated again and again with more messages from the unsaved number, each one more hostile and manipulative than the next when Spencer glanced at the device.

December 16th, 7:23pm

"Will you at least give me an answer? I know I screwed up, but that was a long time ago! I have a right to get to know my son."

December 16th, 7:25pm

"Imagine how I feel, not knowing my son has 3 PhD's and having to find out from my ex-wifes nurse. You're not the only one suffering here kid, remember that."

Spencer snapped his battered phone shut in frustration.

How did he even manage to make himself out to be the victim in this?

He's the one who left me.

'I don't owe him shit, not after what he did to me', Spencer thought furiously to himself, his knuckles white where they gripped his messenger bag.

'Maybe I should give him some kind of answer, let him know where he can stick-'

By the time the sentence popped into his head, his chest aching, he had reached his stop. Although cases weren't particularly a positive thing, anything was better than thinking about the man who had abandoned him and, subsequently, essentially ruined his entire life.

As soon as he stepped off the elevator and into the bullpen, he could feel his co-workers' eyes pierce right through him. It was almost like they could sense something was off with him the moment he entered Quantico.

Of course, while they were profilers, it's not like they were mind-readers.

He fled to the break room and poured himself a generous cup of coffee. He wanted to focus on what was important, which was certainly not the unread messages from a fetid man on his cellphone.

While pouring practically the entire container of sugar into his travel mug, he felt someone's hand touch his shoulder. He flinched slightly at the unexpected touch, and he turned to see Morgan, his eyebrows scrunched together in a confused and worried look.

"Slow down, kid. Have some coffee with your sugar." He said, his voice half-joking as he, presumably, tried to ease the tension practically emitting off of Spencer.

His phone vibrated once more from somewhere in his pockets, and Spencer's face twisted in fervent discomfort.

"Earth to Pretty Boy. You good?"

Spencer realized he was getting absorbed into his thoughts again and tried to brush it off with a quick sip of the sickly-sweet caffeinated concoction in his hand and a quick nod.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking." as if Spencer ever stopped thinking in the first place.

"Well, I'm here if you need anything, kid. But for right now, let's go find out about this case." Derek clapped Spencer on the shoulder again, which earned an instinctual flinch.

Instead of dwelling on that, Derek and Spencer strode towards the conference room, where everyone else had already begun piling in ad Garcia and Prentiss introduced them to their present case.

"Three men were found dead on the streets of a Nevada strip mall last night," Garcia began, pulling up the crime scene photos onto the screen.

Spencer flipped through the folder that was handed to him, scanning over the photos while distantly listening to the rather gruesome but ultimately unhelpful details Prentiss and Garcia were describing.

All three men had one of their fingers removed, yet their wedding bands were later found in their stab wounds upon closer investigation. They were all three found in close proximity to different hotels and known "lover's lanes".

The incessant vibrations and noise emitting from the dreaded device in his pocket was enough to make Spencer have a brain aneurysm.

He retrieved the phone from his pocket only to switch it off and shove it into the deep depths of his messenger bag. It wasn't necessary for a plane ride anyway.

His sudden movements earned him a few more concerned glances, but their attention was quickly diverted as Prentiss announced, "Wheels up in 30." effectively dismissing the team to get their things.

Spencer was restless the entire plane ride. It was only thirty minutes into the trip, with an hour and ten minutes left.

Normally, he'd be playing chess or even reading, but neither of those things seemed to tempt him, as all he could think of were the numerous messages probably flooding his discarded phone banished to the bottom of his messenger bag.

The last message he'd read replayed repeatedly in his mind like some awful alarm.

'Imagine how I feel...'

It made fiery anger swirl in his chest.

He could imagine how he felt. Because the pain William Reid inflicted before he finally left was enough to make Spencer understand what it was like to be sent to Hell and back, if such a place existed.

The memory of watching his own father leave his house at age 10 was enough to make him feel nauseous. His father leaving was the final stake through the young man's heart.

The physical pain, he could probably forgive him for. He would never forget, but maybe he could understand.

But leaving your young on to care for his mentally-ill mother? After all the pain he put him through, that kick while Spencer was already down was a new low.

For all Spencer cared, the man could rot. It was almost funny, thirteen years of healing down the drain with just a few text messages.

Once again, Spencer was ripped from his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder, It was Hotch, with a guarded but concerned look on his face.

"You've been way too quiet; is everything alright?"

'No', Spencer thought to himself. But he couldn't admit he wasn't okay, especially not before a case. More important things needed to be tended for than his own "daddy issues".

"I'll be okay," Spencer settled for. "Just some weird stuff has been happening lately. It's nothing I can't take care of, though."

It didn't dissuade Hotch's concerned look. If anything, it intensified the worry Spencer found there.

"Is it your mother? Is she alright?" He asked, leaning forward with furrowed eyebrows.

"She's okay! I actually just called her the other night," Spencer assured him. He bit his lip and gripped his messenger bag. "It's actually, uh, my dad. He's been messaging me, and I haven't spoken to him in thirteen years."

"Are you okay? Have you messaged him back any?" Hotch asked, releasing the worried lines on his forehead.

"I haven't, yet. I figured I'd wait until the case was over. That way, there's nothing in the way." Spencer explained, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as his eyes darted around the jet cabin.

Hotch must have picked up the signal to wrap up the conversation, because he gently reminded the young man that he could talk to him whenever he needs to, or just whenever he wants to.

Spencer smiled and inclined his head slightly. "Thanks, Hotch."

"It's not a problem, Reid. Now, let's get back to work."

Spencer flicked through the gruesome photos once more, the swirling anger in his chest dwindling for the first time since his phone at first pinged with that dreaded message.

For once, Spencer was able to completely forget about the slightly outdated phone burning a hole in the bottom of his messenger bag.

#spencer reid #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #spencer reid angst #hotchreid #aaron hotchner x spencer reid

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theangrypokemaniac · 4 years

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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!

#team rocket #ma jessie #jessie's mom #jessie #jessie's dad #madame boss #mewtwo #kanto #snow way out!#the birth of mewtwo

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skystonedclouds · 5 years

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So, I usually find comfort in God but I have this recurring problem where when I think about Hell and the fact that God sends people there to be tortured eternally I start to get this nagging doubt in the back of my mind about whether or not He is truly good and I'm worried this means I'm not really saved and I'm a false convert. Do you have any advice for overcoming this? I just can't wrap my head around the idea that sending ppl to hell could ever be just rather than cruel. Is this just me?

Dear anon,

A) Cruel or just.

“I just can't wrap my head around the idea that sending ppl to hell could ever be just rather than cruel. Is this just me?”

A lot of people feel this way usually it’s the unconverted who do not see the magnitude of the evil sin. A person is usually saved (not always) when they notice they are a totally depraved sinner that cannot stop sinning without divine intervention. The name “Jesus” was attributed to Christ because He promised to save His people from their sins not just from hell. In this life the freedom from sin comes gradually through sanctification. In an instant of the twinkling of an eye the saved will be made with new bodies that cannot sin. Not being able to see the reason for hell simply comes down to not being able to see the magnitude of evil in sin.

1. Who do we sin against?

Is it worse to curse a bug or a human? Is it worse to hate bugs or people? Is it worse to kill a bug or a human. In one way the reason sin is so bad is because God’s worth is far above our worth. The angels are before Him saying “Holy, Holy, Holy” every day with their eyes covered unable to even look upon Him. We are made in the image of God while God is Himself the one we are created to look like. How about this... Is it worse to burn a picture of someone or to burn that person? Maybe if we had a better grasp of the infinite worth and honor due of God we would see the magnitude of our evil. The extend of evil can be measured by the worth of the victim (be it picture, plant, bug, human or God).

Psalm 51:4 I have sinned against you—only against you— and done what you consider evil. So you are right in judging me; you are justified in condemning me.

1 Samuel 2:25 If anyone sins against someone else, God can defend the one who is wrong; but who can defend someone who sins against the Lord?” But they would not listen to their father, for the Lord had decided to kill them.

The devil likes to blind us to the worth and beauty of God. This has been his ploy since he cannot kill God. Instead it’s easier to destroy people’s perception of Him.

2. Is the punishment disproportionate?

It is normal for us to think it too severe if we have a man-centered worldview. Hell tears this humanistic down to see we are not the most important. Many have fancies the idea of aliens and the idea that we are insignificant and meaningless atomic arrangement. That drops to the opposite extreme of the supremacist of man. We are not worthless nor we are not most important. We view sin from the horizontal plane instead of both the horizontal and the vertical. In the bible Joseph did not ask “how can do do this sin against this man by sleeping with his wife?” instead he asked “how can I do this sin before God”. David was not sad he killed a man but that he sinned before God. I previously explained the way we sin against God.

Hell wakes us up to the fact it’s not all about us. We have made God into some man-centered image. So many people want to see God as a genie to see what God can do for them. They think God to be their servant who must come at their beckoning to answer prayers, make them rich, make them successful or so on. Some people literally say “pray for me I don’t think I have gotten all the blessings I can”. The mindset of so many people is how God can serve them. This is how people come up with the prosperity gospel where they think God just wants them successful, famous, rich, wealthy and healthy. The doctrine of hell it comes to the conscious to remind us that we cannot manipulate or minimize this Holy God. We can look to God for provisions but it must be done to His glory not our own.

3. What is the extend of evil?

The problem of sin goes much deeper than one might initially assume. Right now God is by His common grace restraining some of the evil in every one of us. In hell the restraints come off and people are their maximal possible evil without a conscious to keep them in check. God gave us our conscious to put a limit on human evil but once judgment day comes and we are at no risk of harming anyone all the evil will be demonstrated. In hell everything suppressed by our conscious will be unleashed and we will demonstrate the full extent of evil in our hearts. So much is the evil in the hearts of men that most people would never shown their face again if their thought life was projected from everyone to see. The sheer fact that we sin and have to battle not to think or do worse evil gives us just a taste of the evil within our hearts (and that is still restrained). The conscious is a gift from God to minimize evil on earth. This sin in the heart will only grow and last forever in hell.

2 Thessalonians 2:7 The Mysterious Wickedness is already at work, but what is going to happen will not happen until the one who holds it back is taken out of the way.

Proverbs 20:27 The Lord gave us mind and conscience; we cannot hide from ourselves.

Titus 3:11 You know that such people are corrupt, and their sins prove that they are wrong.

4. The cross.

We cannot even begin to comprehend “my God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”. On the cross Christ bore the wrath of God the Father against sin. Christ wasn’t sweating drops of blood and feeling like He may die because of the roman cross. He was overwhelmed by the wrath of His own Father crushing Him. He still suffered it all on our behalf to offer salvation for anyone who will allow Him to take their place.

B) Is God good?

“I start to get this nagging doubt in the back of my mind about whether or not He is truly good”.

What do you mean when you say good? Jonathan Edwards wrote on hell:

I shall use only one argument, viz. that sin is heinous enough to deserve such a punishment, and such a punishment is no more than proportionable to the evil or demerit of sin. If the evil of sin be infinite, as the punishment is, then it is manifest that the punishment is no more than proportionable to the sin punished, and is no more than sin deserves. And if the obligation to love, honor, and obey God be infinite, then sin which is the violation of this obligation, is a violation of infinite obligation, and so is an infinite evil. If God be infinitely worthy of love, honor, and obedience, then our obligation to love, and honor, and obey him is infinitely great. Our obligation to love, honor, and obey God being infinitely great, sin is the violation of infinite obligation, and so is an infinite evil. Once more, sin being an infinite evil, deserves an infinite punishment. An infinite punishment is no more than it deserves. Therefore such punishment is just, which was the thing to be proved. There is no evading the force of this reasoning, but by denying that God, the sovereign of the universe, is infinitely glorious.

I am to show that it is not inconsistent with the mercy of God, to inflict an eternal punishment on wicked men. It is an unreasonable and unscriptural notion of the mercy of God, that he is merciful in such a sense that he cannot bear that penal justice should be executed. This is to conceive of the mercy of God as a passion to which his nature is so subject that God is liable to be moved, and affected, and overcome by seeing a creature in misery, so that he cannot bear to see justice executed: which is a most unworthy and absurd notion of the mercy of God, and would, if true, argue great weakness. - It would be a great defect, and not a perfection, in the sovereign and supreme Judge of the world, to be merciful in such a sense that he could not bear to have penal justice executed. The Scriptures everywhere represent the mercy of God as free, and not that the exercises of it are necessary, as if that God cannot bear justice should take place. The Scriptures abundantly speak of it as the glory of the divine attribute of mercy, that it is free in its exercises, and not that God cannot but deliver sinners from misery.

It is most absurd also as it is contrary to plain fact. For if there be any meaning in the objection, this is supposed in it, that all misery of the creature, whether just or unjust, is in itself contrary to the nature of God. For if his mercy be of such a nature that a very great degree of misery, though just, is contrary to his nature... And then a less degree of misery is contrary to his nature, and a still less degree of misery is contrary to his nature. And so the mercy of God being infinite, all misery must be contrary to his nature, which we see to be contrary to fact. Mercy would be contrary to the nature of God if justice was contrary to the nature of God.

However strong such kind of objections against the eternal misery of the wicked, may seem to the carnal, senseless hearts of men, as though it were against God's justice and mercy, yet their seeming strength arises from a want of sense of the infinite evil, odiousness, and provocation there is in sin. Hence it seems to us not suitable that any poor creature should be the subject of such misery, because we have no sense of anything abominable and provoking in any creature answerable to it. If we had, then this infinite calamity would not seem unsuitable. For one thing would but appear answerable and proportionable to another, and so the mind would rest in it as fit and suitable, and no more than what is proper to be ordered by the just, holy, and good Governor of the world.

That this is so, we may be convinced by this consideration, viz. that when we hear or read of some horrid instances of cruelty, it may be to some poor innocent child or some holy martyr - and their cruel persecutors, having no regard to their shrieks and cries, only sported themselves with their misery - we have a sense of the evil of them, and they make a deep impression on our minds. Hence it seems just, every way fit and suitable, that God should inflict a very terrible punishment on persons who have perpetrated such wickedness. It seems no way disagreeable to any perfection of the Judge of the world. We can think of it without being at all shocked. The reason is that we have a sense of the evil of their conduct, and a sense of the proportion there is between the evil or demerit and the punishment.

Just so, if we saw a proportion between the evil of sin and eternal punishment, i.e. if we saw something in wicked men that should appear just as eternal misery appears dreadful (something that should as much stir up indignation and detestation, as eternal misery does terror), all objections against this doctrine would vanish at once. Though now it seem incredible, [and] though when we hear of such a degree and duration of torments as are held forth in this doctrine and think what eternity is, it is ready to seem impossible that such torments should be inflicted on poor feeble creatures by a Creator of infinite mercy. Yet this arises principally from these two causes: 1. It is so contrary to the depraved inclinations of mankind, that they hate to believe it and cannot bear it should be true. 2. They see not the suitableness of eternal punishment to the evil of sin. They see not that it is no more than proportionable to the demerit of sin.

It is reasonable that they should be sensible of their own guilt, and should remember their former opportunities and obligations, and should see their own folly and God's justice. - If the punishment threatened be eternal annihilation, they will never know that it is inflicted. They will never know that God is just in their punishment. And how is this agreeable to the Scriptures, in which God threatens, that he will repay the wicked to his face, Deu. 7:10. And to that in Job 21:19, 20.

By the end... If you mean good as in “He is unable execute justice if people suffer and must save everyone” then he does not fit your definition. God is however “unable to” look upon sin (by His nature).

Habakkuk 1:13 Thou art of purer eyes than to behold evil, and canst not look on iniquity: wherefore lookest thou upon them that deal treacherously, and holdest thy tongue when the wicked devoureth the man that is more righteous than he?

Meanwhile... if you mean God cannot sin, He cannot lie, He cannot break a promise, He is Holy, He is just, He delights to show mercy and He does love, He is wishing for reconciliation... Yes God is good.

C) False convert or not.

“I'm worried this means I'm not really saved and I'm a false convert”. Well let’s just start with a simple fact. Whether or not you are saved or not does not matter if you turn to God now in faith. God says “also now” and that today is the day of salvation (if you are not saved).

Joel 2:12-13 Therefore also now, saith the Lord, turn ye even to me with all you heart, and with fasting, and with weeping, and with mourning: And rend your heart, and not your garments, and turn unto the Lord your God: for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and of great kindness, and repenteth him of the evil.

James 4:9-10 Be afflicted, and mourn, and weep: let your laughter be turned to mourning, and your joy to heaviness. Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and he shall lift you up.

Ezekiel 33:11 Say unto them, As I live, saith the Lord God, I have no pleasure in the death of the wicked; but that the wicked turn from his way and live: turn ye, turn ye from your evil ways; for why will ye die, O house of Israel?

2 Chronicles 7:14 If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.

2 Corinthians 6:2 (For he saith, I have heard thee in a time accepted, and in the day of salvation have I succoured thee: behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation.)

Deuteronomy 30:19 I call heaven and earth to record this day against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing: therefore choose life, that both thou and thy seed may live.

Now I cannot tell you if you are a false convert or not since I do not know you. I can just say God made all the promises listed above and that He does not lie. I have never been disappointed by the promises of God. He is the one I trust the most above anyone. I have faith in Him and every time I stepped out in faith He came through.

The good news is you don’t need “Holy Spirit conviction” to be saved. That is you do not need to fully grasp your sin in order to be saved. One is saved by faith alone in the finished works of Christ not their level of faith or assurance. It’s who you trust not how much or how well you trust. A sturdy bridge is just as sturdy for the fearful person as the courageous one.

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You may be sad that you seem to either have little faith or assurance not knowing which one (at least right now). In that you doubted God’s trustworthiness. It’s called faith because you do not see His trustworthiness but you’re willing to “take a leap of faith”. Sometimes the assurance part comes after and you just have to step out and trust Him. My only advice can be to have faith.

It does help to develop a relationship with God to know Him. Prayer, sermons, testimonies and the bible can all help get to know God and his trustworthy promises. It’s easier to trust someone you know more. Feel free to see more on the gospel.

Let me know if you want anything else. Such as recommended sermons, more depths, good testimonies, parables or so on.

God bless!

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ladylilithprime · 5 years

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Sastiel Creations Challenge | @ladylilithprime

↳ Theme: One More | Prompt: Day

Fluff Bingo Square: Movie Night

=I Did Not Live Until Today=

Read on AO3

MOVIE NIGHT IN the Bunker had been originally instituted by Dean, and the insistence of Sam that everyone in the Bunker, especially a stressed out and overworked teenaged Prophet of the Lord, needed to take regular breaks to relax and unwind before the constant "go, go, go" made them all go crazy. Hunts would occasionally interrupt the ritual, postpone it for a couple of days, but none of them were allowed more than ten days without a mandatory Movie Night. Dean had insisted that Castiel join these movie nights whenever he was around, intent on "educating" the Angel in what he termed the "classics" of cinema. Castiel had confided privately to Sam that, upon viewing these so-called classics, he was gaining more of an understanding of Dean than he was of why the movies were classical, which Sam had assured him was normal.

Movie Night had been weird after the Trials, because Sam would start out watching the movie with Dean and whoever else was there, but suddenly it would be hours later and he wouldn't remember actually watching any of it despite not having moved. In the wake of Crowley showing up in Sam's head with the brothers' code word tripping off his tongue to warn him that he had an angelic passenger who had taken over the driver's seat, Sam figured he knew what had happened and maybe he felt a little tiny flicker of gratitude for Gadreel sparing him having to watch the monkey movies again, but that was drowned out by the overall feelings of shock and betrayal and rage because how could Dean do this to him?!

It was Sam's decision to continue Movie Night even though it was just him and Castiel in the Bunker now. The original purpose of enforcing a break on overworked humans was still valid, even though now the overworked human was only Sam, and the secondary purpose of introducing Castiel to human entertainment was also still in effect, perhaps even more so after Metatron had downloaded a huge selection of American pop culture into Castiel's head without much in the way of context. Without Dean to steer the selection towards action films and neither of them particularly interested in watching mindless violence and gore, plus Sam's increased aversion to psychological horror films, the movies they watched tended to veer more towards musicals. If Castiel suspected that this, too, might be a bit of Sam's rebellion against Dean's stubborn adherence to mullet rock as the only valid music to listen to, well, he didn't call Sam on it and Sam didn't choose to admit anything.

Tonight was another designated Movie Night, not because it had been too long since the last, but because Sam knew that after the failure of the tracking spell with Gadreel's extracted Grace he, at least, needed something where the fate of the world was less dependant on the outcome. In hindsight, queueing up Les Miserábles was probably not the best idea given the overall setting of the movie and the themes of melancholy and grief that pervaded it, but he suspected Castiel would appreciate the other themes of faith and sacrifice and second chances.

He probably should have expected Castiel's analysis of the story's themes to extend to their lives, but somehow it didn't even occur to him until Castiel blindsided him with an abrupt declaration that Jean Valjean reminded him of Sam.

"I'm sorry?" Sam blurted, not sure he had heard the Angel correctly.

"He is a good man who committed criminal acts for a good cause and was harshly punished for it even after his incarceration ended," Castiel explained, gesturing to the screen where Valjean's pay was docked in front of the other workers, who were openly hostile. "It does not matter to these people that his intentions were noble - to feed his family - or that the crime was relatively minor, all they see is the criminal record and discount the good heart of the man who committed it and is stained by that record in the eyes of the society he serves."

"Cas, that's not... I started the Apocalypse!" Sam said, shaking his head. "That's a good bit worse than stealing a loaf of bread and running."

"You killed a demon," Castiel disagreed. "A demon you had been told by everyone around you was responsible for breaking Seals and that killing her would stop things. You were deliberately not told that she was the final Seal and that killing her would release Lucifer because enough angels, myself included, believed that if you knew the truth then you would not have killed her. Yet you do not blame me for lying to you, or for changing my mind and breaking through my conditioning too late to send Dean in time to stop you. Nor do you blame Dean for breaking under Alistair and being the one to break the first Seal which set things in motion. Instead, you continue to allow people, including Dean who should really know better, to cast the blame for things beyond your control onto your shoulders and even take on blame and responsibility where there should be none, forgetting that any penance required for playing a part long ago set out for you has been more than served."

Sam looked away from Castiel's placid, deeply knowing expression, but found he couldn't focus on the screen until a flash of silver catching light drew his attention. "Look, I don't... whatever redemption I might have earned with jumping has to be cancelled out by the things I did after getting out again, especially all the crap I pulled without my soul--"

"Do you think yourself responsible for your soulless self's actions, even though your soul was still in the Cage being subjected to Michael and Lucifer's torments?" Sam frowned a little at the low notes of guilt and sorrow in the Angel's voice and looked over, but Castiel wouldn't meet his eyes, staring instead at the screen as the old priest backed up Valjean's lie of gifted silver and gave over the candlesticks as well. "Hm. Heaven has not treated you nearly so kindly as this priest does..."

"Castiel," Sam started to reach out, but found his courage falter and lowered his hand with a sigh. "I know you didn't leave my soul behind on purpose. I knew it then, too, even with you keeping secrets and never having mentioned it before that moment... sorry, too, about the holy fire."

"There is no apology necessary," Castiel refuted, though Sam thought he looked moderately grateful for it anyway. "You were right to be suspicious of my actions and motives at the time, if not for that specific reason."

"Still..."

"Sam, I assure you, I hold no ill will over your suspicion of me, nor for your actions to try and stop me. If anything, I am deeply grateful for your continued faith in me even after I had gone off the reservation and done you considerable harm." Castiel shook his head. "We are getting away from the main subject, which is that you are not responsible for the actions your body committed without your soul present."

"It was still my body," Sam argued. "My... impulses or whatever, stripped of my inhibitions--"

"Not true," Castiel interrupted. "Stripped of your higher empathic functions and natural moral compass that is your soul, your body behaved with logical precision not unlike how most Angels would act. While that behavior likely seemed heartless or 'dickish' at times, this was in part because of the contrast to your usual compassion and kindness, but you weren't actively malicious or uncontrolled. Everything, including the decision to go to Dean with the suspicion that something was wrong and to ask him to be your moral compass, was meticulously and logically thought out and reasoned for the most optimal outcome. Recall that your soulless self felt that it was for the best that your soul be retrieved and rejoined with your body, and only rejected the plan when the possibility that doing so would kill you was presented."

"Whereupon I promptly tried to kill Bobby! Cas--"

"Sam," Castiel turned fully to face him and glared at him in a way that reminded Sam forcefully of the fact that this was an Angel of the Lord. "You. Are. Not. To. Blame. Your soulless self attempted to kill a man who showed every sign of being ready to kill you by forcefully reuniting your damaged soul with your body. A soul, I must add, which did not deserve the torment inflicted upon it and to which we owed the continued existence of the human race."

"I was just--"

"Cleaning up your mess, so you've said." Castiel was beginning to look frustrated. "But the Apocalypse was not just your mess. It was Dean's, and mine, and Lucifer's, and Michael's, and every angel and demon and human servant of either side who worked towards setting it off earlier than my Father planned. I would even venture to say that it was my Father's fault for refusing to step in when, despite Raphael's delusions, we had very clear evidence from Joshua that He is still alive and close enough to be aware of the situation." The Angel reached forward then and covered the shell-shocked human's nearest hand with his own. "Your soulless self recognized that, and recognized the unfair imbalance, and quite rightly called us out on our lack of respect for you and your sacrifices. Since regaining your soul, Dean's insistence on leaving past transgressions in the past except when it suits him to drag them out as evidence of culpability and questionable judgement has driven your self-confidence down to the point where you have even allowed Dean to make you believe yourself at fault for not looking for a brother and non-human friend whom you had every reason to believe were dead and at peace.

"No more," Castiel said with a fire in his vessel's blue eyes that had nothing to do with his borrowed Grace. "Sam Winchester, you will listen to me and believe this if nothing else: You. Deserve. Respect. And for my part in allowing others to be negligent in giving you that respect, you have my apologies."

For a long moment, Sam could do nothing more than stare at Castiel, stunned speechless and feeling more than a few echoes of the old awe and wonder with which he had first viewed this Angel of the Lord who had saved his big brother from Hell. It seemed impossible to believe, even with Castiel staring into him and all but demanding that he do so. For all he knew, he had fallen asleep on the couch next to Castiel and all of this was somehow some sort of incredibly vivid dream like the ones he tried to pretend he didn't have about the Angel, because if anything stood a chance at making their current arrangement far more awkward than it ever needed to be....

Castiel must have seen something of his thoughts in his expression, because the intensity faded into sadness and then, before Sam could gather his wits enough to try and reassure him, turned to resolve. "I will remind you of this conversation later, so as to establish better credibility."

"Um..." Sam blinked. That was unexpected. "Okay? Thanks? I'll... work on believing you, Cas, I will, I just...."

"Have several years of conditioning for expecting the worst to work around, as well as the more recent problems with maintained perception of reality," Castiel nodded. "I will remind you as often as is necessary of your worth and worthiness."

Sam nodded, more for the lack of any other way to acknowledge Castiel's words than out of agreement or understanding, jumping a little when the music from the television screen picked up in volume. He turned back to the movie, flushing darkly when he realized that they'd completely missed Fantine's entire arc and Valjean's crisis of conscience, and reached for the remote. "Oh, hey, let me--"

"No, it's--" Castiel's grip on Sam's hand tightened, then released with enough abruptness that Sam found himself stopping anyway, turning questioning eyes on Castiel. "I confess that I have been, ah, 'cheating' with this film, as it is one of the stories that Metatron saw fit to share, though not this particular version."

"Should we put on something else?"

"If that is what you prefer. I am enjoying watching it with you regardless."

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if that was because of Castiel's bizarre comparisons between Sam and Valjean, but he swallowed it back and instead forced himself to settle back into the couch beside Castiel to watch the introduction to the Thénardier family and Cosette. The silence stretched between them as the music played, until--

"Sam? Why is Thénardier's wife making that gesture when she sings that there is 'not much there'?"

Sam swallowed down the urge to choke or laugh, because of course Castiel would ask about that. He cut a sharp glance in the Angel's direction to check if he was being trolled, but Castiel's expression showed only genuine puzzlement. "Uh... Well, I mean, uh... some guys get kinda hung up on penis size, uh, taking the whole 'bigger is better' idea way too seriously and, uh, thinking that bigger size makes them better able to please their partners, which, uh, really isn't true across the board. And, uh, there are a lot of guys who think that having those, um, extra inches is all they need for it to be good for their partner, which also isn't true." He found himself looking at the screen in a gambit to not have to meet Castiel's eyes, and moments later he pointed. "See, she's saying the line again without the gesture. So, uh, the implication is Thénardier falls doubly short of the mark."

"I see," Castiel said, his tone meditative. With his eyes averted, Sam couldn't see the speculative look the Angel sent in his direction, though he definitely heard the pointedly dry tone when Castiel added, "Mrs Thénardier would do better to find a more skilled pizza man."

Sam jerked his head around to stare at Castiel again, but this time the Angel's expression was the same sort of bland that he used when trolling Dean, and so Sam managed to force out a chuckle for the joke before settling in to watch the dynamics between the Thénardiers and Cosette with its very Cinderella vibe. Castiel muttered something about "punching John Winchester again" that made no sense and Sam wasn't sure he wanted to know about anyway, and then made a brief comment about Cosette's dream being similar to many human interpretations of Heaven, but otherwise said nothing until Valjean told Cosette that he was now her father.

"Another parallel," he said. Sam, who had hoped Castiel had forgotten about his weird fixation by this point, blinked in confusion.

"Uh, Cas, I'm pretty sure I haven't gone and adopted any random kids," he pointed out. Really, that seemed more like something Dean would do than him, Dean actually really liked kids and liked the idea of being a dad while Sam... not so much.

"Random, no," Castiel agreed. "You are, however, extraordinarily compassionate. I suspect that, if presented with an orphaned child whose situation required more specialized guardianship than a more normal human fosterage system could provide, you would be an excellent parental figure." He was silent for a moment, pensive and troubled, and then said, softly, "I had never had Nephilim of my own, nor am I likely to do so in the future, but if I did and was unable to care for the child myself, I would ask you."

"Me?" Sam gaped at him. "I mean, why me? Why not Dean?"

"Dean has an unfortunate history of being less than tolerant of supernatural occurrences, of children with powers beyond most human capabilities," Castiel said, shooting an apologetic glance at Sam even before Sam was aware of wincing. "A Nephil would inevitably have powers, and I am a Seraph. Only an Archangel could overpower and suppress the Grace of a Nephil sired by me, and there are no more Archangels available to do so. You have powers of your own and training in using them, albeit with an enhancement method that I would not recommend using with a Nephil, and would be well suited to teaching."

"Cas, my powers--"

"Are yours and yours alone. Azazel may have forcefully activated them on his own schedule and attempted to corrupt them and, through them, you, but he - and Ruby - failed. Your soul is far too pure and good for their hooks to find permanent anchor."

"But... I mean, you... angels... you always warned me against using them...."

"Only because the method with which you were amplifying them - that is, drinking demon blood - was so dangerous to you and the people around you, and training them to full strength properly after first tearing down Azazel's blocks would have taken considerably more time and effort... and, I suspect, those of my superiors actively assisting in bringing about the Apocalypse did not want you learning to use your powers without the addictive crutch of demon blood that could be used to prime your rage and point you at Lilith when the time came."

"So why are you just now telling me this?"

"Well," Castiel glanced away, looking somewhat sheepish. "To be honest, I did not realize that you were unaware that your powers were innate and not actually demonic in origin until I overheard you speaking of them in past tense as if they no longer existed because you were no longer drinking demon blood rather than you simply not using them. Given my clumsy understanding of social nuances and the complex mix of negative emotions you associate with your powers, I erred on the side of caution and did not mention it until our current conversation provided an opening."

Well. That was fair. Even so, Sam couldn't help but stare at Castiel as he attempted to process everything he had learned in such a short amount of time. The fact that the majority of Angels hated him was not new, but the fact that Heaven had actively sabotaged his efforts to be better than the demon blood that tainted him was... also not new, exactly, but Sam had never expected to hear it put so bluntly in conjunction with reassurance that his powers - and, by extension, Sam himself - did not come from a source of evil.

Even more bewildering was the hypothetical child Castiel spoke of and his assertion that Sam, not Dean who had always longed to be a parent, but Sam who had barely ever had anything to do with children even when he had been one, was to be given custody of the hypothetical Nephil if Castiel was incapacitated. The way Castiel had talked about the subject made it clear that he had never had Nephilim himself, and Sam knew that the creation of Nephilim was outlawed, and yet the Angel was sitting there, calm as you please, declaring that if he did ever have a child with a human and needed another parent besides himself and, presumably, the mother, that he would pick Sam. Sam, who was uncomfortable around kids at the best of times, even if he could fake passable competence in an emergency. Sam, who wouldn't trust himself to look after a completely human baby, never mind one that had "phenomenal cosmic powers" at its disposal. Sam who, until earlier when Castiel had declared that "nothing is worth losing you", had thought that Castiel might possibly consider him a friend at best and tolerated him as a reasonably useful asset at worst. Mind-boggling just didn't cover it.

And that wasn't even touching the whole thing with Castiel sounding like he was defending the actions of his soulless self. The subject of Sam's time topside without his soul was something Dean had never hesitated shut down hard, but Castiel had sounded almost... complimentary. Which made no sense, Sam knew, because without his soul he had been a tactless jerk, not--

"Your soulless self recognized that... and quite rightly called us out on our lack of respect for you and your sacrifices."

Sam swallowed against the lump forming in his throat, and again when it refused to be dislodged. Everything he did to help people, to try and make up for the damage he had caused, it never felt like enough. All the centuries spent in the Cage with Michael and Lucifer systematically taking out their rage on him amounted to only a year and a half on Earth, and the tortures blurred together to the point where Sam had long since lost count of how many centuries it had really been, shoving it down and shoving it down, his shaky forays into meditation and reshuffling his mind only managing to build the flimsiest of fences between his conscious mind and that echoing chasm of memory and pain, bits and pieces escaping here and there to scratch along his dreams. Little reminders that he may be out, maybe, but he would never be truly free. It was a truth, cold and logical and inexorable, that Dean refused to acknowledge in either of them, touched by Hell as they both were in different ways, and neither of them coping nearly as well as they wanted the other to believe.

"Stripped of your higher empathic functions and natural moral compass that is your soul, your body behaved with logical precision not unlike how most Angels would act."

The irony of an Angel of the Lord comparing his soulless self to other Angels was not lost on Sam, nor was the way that comparison gave him mixed feelings. All the years of praying, of believing in God and His Angels, having faith that some higher power was watching out for Dean and his Dad when he couldn't, that there was real good in the world to counterbalance all the evil being shoved at him from all sides...

"Sam Winchester, the boy with the demon blood."

...no....

"Nothing is worth losing you."

...but why....

"Sam? Sam, did you hear me?"

"Hm?" Jolted from his contemplating, Sam shot a guilty look first at the screen - how had he missed that much of the movie?! - and then gave Castiel a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Cas. What were you saying?"

"I was asking about Marius's assertion that he is in love with Cosette, when he has only just met her and barely interacted with her at all," Castiel repeated himself after a moment of scrutiny for his friend. "It seems disingenuous, more like the 'love' of the pizza man and the babysitter."

"It's supposed to be love at first sight, Cas," Sam explained, scrubbing a hand down his face. "It's like... when two people who've never interacted before meet, and there's this... connection that forms between them, like they click on a level that is deeper than physical or emotional. A look, a touch of hands... you just know, looking at that person, that this is it. This is the one." He shrugged. "It's talked about in books and movies and stories and songs all the time as this big romantic ideal, a lot like soulmates... uh, cupid-type soulmates, not me and Dean type soulmates."

"Do you not believe in love at first sight?" Castiel asked, tilting his head to the side with that puzzled curiosity that Sam found endearingly familiar.

"I don't disbelieve in it," Sam said, choosing his words carefully. "I mean, being a hunter has taught me that every story has some root in a truth. I just don't necessarily think that it always happens the way the stories make it sound. Like maybe sometimes it's one-sided, or something gets in the way like they live too far apart or one is already married or..." Sam bit his lip before he could continue the thought with mention of angels and humans, because he knew from Castiel that most instances of humans and angels coupling were less about romance and love and more about lust and awkward power imbalances, and the last thing he wanted to bring up right now was the hypothetical Nephil again. "Besides, just because love usually happens more slowly than a couple of seconds doesn't make it any less deep or meaningful or special."

"I see," Castiel hummed, and then, "Sam? How do you know when you're in love?"

...Shit.

"Uh," Sam reached up to rub the back of his neck, only to force his hand back down again when he realised what he was doing. "It's different for everyone, Cas...."

"I am aware," and there was a definite note of impatience in the gravelled voice. "I am asking how you know when you are in love."

"Oh," Sam mumbled. He could feel his face heating up and very nearly prayed that the heat wasn't a visibly obvious blush before he stopped himself; Castiel would probably hear it if he did. "Uh, well... not to sound like a broken record, but it was different for everyone I was... I mean, I felt differently about different people, even though it's all still love."

Castiel made an encouraging noise, and when Sam chanced a look in his direction, the Angel was turned more towards him than the screen, clearly interested and wanting to hear more. Well, okay then. Sam leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes, reaching back into the depths of his memory for the times he was in love or thought he was, shying away from some of the memories like Madison or Sarah or Amelia, and focusing on the deeper ones, the ones that got under his skin and stayed there across the years, even just as scars. There was a pattern there, a set of feelings that overlapped each instance.

"Happiness," he began, because that was the obvious place to start. "When you see the person, you feel happy. Being around them, sitting next to them, holding hands, hugging... full of happiness and joy and peace. You feel happy when they're happy, sad when they're sad, hurt when they're in pain... You want to protect them, even when you know they can protect themselves. You would fight, kill, even die for them, not because they would ever ask it of you, but because losing them is... unthinkable. It's agony. And all the pain is worth it, because seeing them smile is... it's better than Heaven."

"Oh," Castiel breathed. "Yes, that... that makes so much sense now."

There was a shuffling sound, and the couch cushions dipped beneath shifting weight, and then Sam felt one of his hands being enfolded in Castiel's, the skitter of that unfamiliar Grace held tightly leashed beneath his skin tingling just at the edge of Sam's awareness. He opened his eyes and looked at Castiel, who was beaming at him now from much closer than he had been. "Cas...?"

"Sam," Castiel was still smiling, but it was warmer, softer than the brilliant joy of before, more comfortable and... "Thank you for sharing your feelings with me. I was never able to explain myself adequately to my brothers, and so they frequently drew incorrect conclusions that I lacked the necessary frame of reference to refute or correct. Perhaps now I can make them understand."

"Understand?"

"That I am in love with you, Sam Winchester," Castiel squeezed Sam's hand gently. "My world started the day I took your hand. And I would not have it any other way."

"Cas... I...." He couldn't say it. He wanted to, God, did he ever want to say it back, but the words caught in his throat, too used to being choked back after so many years. "Cas...."

"I know. Sam? Will you hold me again? I enjoyed that quite a lot."

"Sure, Cas," Sam shifted, shoving the whirling of his thoughts back and away, and opened his arms. Castiel released his hand and moved closer, pressing the length of his body against Sam's. He let out a soft sigh as Sam brought his arms up to curl around Castiel, settling in a loose embrace that still managed to fully encompass the Angel's smaller physical frame. Together, they turned to watch the movie, wrapped up in each other and the mutual assurance that their feelings, spoken or not, were returned.

"Tomorrow we'll discover what our God in Heaven has in store...."

=End=

#sastiel #sastielcc #sastiel creations challenge #spn fluff bingo #supernatural fic

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theangrypokemaniac · 4 years

Text

I'll state from the beginning that the images below display the sort of sweet synchronicity to which only love can give life:

MaAndPaShipping is the best ship, and here are five reasons why:

1. It Made James

Like the boy do yer? Ever felt the slightest tingle of warmth at the mention of his name?

Well get down on yer knees and give thanks to his mother and father for gifting him to the world!

Where would we be without their remarkable commitment? Could James have grown into the dandified dream boat of your desires if deprived of the safety provided by his parents?

Had they not brought him up, he'd be dead, The Dog of Flanders fantasy made reality. If miraculously he survived, foraging in the wild is not conducive to a foppish personality.

Is that to yer fancy? No? Then let's have a little respect. The luxury Ma and Pa gave enabled his macaroni tendencies to reach such heights.

Their love created him! How can it not be celebrated?

You lot would ship Jessie's parents but you can't, because she has no dad, and I don't suppose you'll ever assent to his obvious identity of Windy Miller, although 'Jessie Miller' has a wonderful ring to it, so what can be done?

Should a Pa Jess be conjured for the purpose, he still buggered off, didn't he? Where's the allure in a faithless git?

I can't comprehend the obsession with Ma Jess. As soon as here she's stiff, and what is there to remember but coercing her daughter into eating snow?

Hey, I named her. What more do you want from me?

I'd rather have the living, visible ancestors, if you don't mind.

Yeah, says the history fanatic.

Why not make the most of the chances offered, and follow a devoted couple whose love made a difference to your existence?

2. Canon!

There are many ships which I find repulsive for involving depravity, or absurd as the subjects haven't met, or don't inhabit the same fictional universe.

Video et taceo: I see and I say nothing.

Neither does anyone. Forcing decent folk in to incest, bestiality etc. is quite alright.

Perverted ideas are left alone, but woe betide a Rocketshipper, because that's offensive.

It may be the only original ship left standing, with proper evidence and sanctioned by Nintendo, but no, it's fair game for undermining. People pick at your arguments, quibble constantly and NEED to register their objections NOW. You MUST be made aware of opposition. You're not to be permitted your views the way those with twisted tastes are indulged.

Why, out of tens of thousands of combinations, does making Jessie and James an item provoke hostility?

The strength of negativity actually serves as validation, for why be so concerned if it's an impossible relationship?

However sick they are, I'm not anti any ship. I can't muster sufficient interest to do it, and if I scroll on, I forget. I certainly don't attack those responsible.

Anti-Shipping is inherently nihilistic for promoting loneliness. They aren't against Rocketshipping through wanting Jessie and James to be with someone else, as an alternative is not readily available, so the outcome of it is neither finding a companion.

MaAndPaShipping attracts no sourpuss silliness, for 'tis canon beyond question. There's nothing about being 'just friends' when married with a son.

How's the state of your O.T.P.? Not looking too clever I expect, and what's your contribution: wishing, and hoping, and thinking, and praying?

Cast it off! None of that longing is necessary in these quarters, as MaAndPaShipping is a fait accompli.

Hallelujah! Wallow in that Love!

Don't you yearn for at least one ship that all of us accept by default, to the extent these aristocrats are spoken of as a single unit?

Across the internet, Ma and Pa are bracketed as 'James's parents', never 'he' and 'she', always 'they', barely counting as distinct characters. That's how undeniable the love is between them. Sheer indifference has awarded it a blessing from everyone.

MWAH-HA-HA-HA-HA!!!

Of course, now I've drawn attention to it the moaning will start, but we all know a spoilsport when we see one.

If they had any legitimate complaints they ought to have mentioned 'em before this piece highlighted the marriage!

Except it won't have occurred to 'em previously, proving the eternal, indissoluble quality of MaAndPaShipping.

You get good value with this one.

Find a post referring to Ma and Pa as individuals and I'll have written it, for that's what you call ironic.

3. It's a Fine Rocketshipping Proxy

I was at primary school when Pokémon hit the West like the bright, bearded meteor it is, atomizing all competition for a child's attention.

I have shipped Jessie and James before I knew anyone else did it, unaware shipping was even a thing.

There are other pairs where I think: 'That seems to fit', but it's incomparable to what I feel for them.

It is part of me. I bleed it.

I have shipped it longer than most Tumblerries have dwelt upon the earth.

I used to believe, what with the hints and manga finale, that this resolution was inevitable, and all I had to do was wait.

Well I've been patient for two decades now, thus when I look at the modern incarnation, and realise it's no nearer to that goal, and instead is further away, waiting starts to wear a bit thin.

I resent the lack of appreciation shown to the fans by the cretins in charge, how any meagre shippy inclusion is done not with an interest in deepening bonds, but with the blatant cynicism of moulding us into performing monkeys dancing to their manipulative tune.

I dislike being treated like a sea lion, expected to clap me flippers at the wave of a fish, or as a panting dog begging at top table, where, because they're desperate to maintain the status quo, every scrap flung down from above now comes with an Anti-Ship kick in the teeth, just to be sure nothing progresses. Not whilst the franchise can still be milked for all it's worth.

I have lost faith Rocketshipping will happen. What passes for Pokémon today carries not the remotest indication of any intention on the so-called writers' part to finish it that way.

Even if it did, it's not my Team Rocket, it's those skeletal, gargoyle bastardisations. My Jessie and James never got the reward they deserved.

I'm somewhat in the market for a replacement. Beneath this loathsome carapace of acid and ice beats the tender heart of a true romantic, and it must have an outlet!

Shipping Ma and Pa provides a certain spurious relief, because it's as close as you can get to Jessie and James without it being them, both biologically as his parents, but they're so similar to the duo it counts as proof in itself.

Holy Matrimony! is prime Rocketshipping territory, not merely the balloon lift, but many slight additions are as important, like the haircuts matching.

Ma and Pa are therefore Jessie and James in the past, present and future:

The past for representing Jess 'n' Jamie gone Victorian, and we've all wondered how that'd turn out.

The present as it's there right now, absent of suffering the shameless whims of morons to get what you want. 'Tis yours to savour.

The future as a glimpse of Jessie and James once married with children, and they agree:

That's how they play it given the opportunity!

What, James in blue, for his and Pa's hair, and Jessie wearing purple, like Ma's, with a red shawl for her own, and Ma Jess's orange earrings to copy the beads?

• Money!

• Bun!

• 'Tache!

• Classy pad!

• Fancy gear!

• Pampered pet!

• Identical cups of Earl Grey!

4. Original Blend

Ma and Pa have only got two fans! We care more than the entire fandom has in twenty years!

Rocketshipping art is ten a penny, so why not display a pioneering spirit, sharpen up those pencils and be inspired?

Let your mind expand and marvel at the possibilities of these unchartered territories, and I'll reblog it if it's nice.

Pay attention to the condition of it being nice. I'm not putting up with any old toss.

Real Ma and Pa is what I want too, not those Sinnoh coffin-dodgers.

It's never been done! Every drawing breaks new ground!

I don't like fan fiction, but I wouldn't say 'no' to that either. Recall the 'nice' stipulation again.

Come on, be the first amongst your friends and get ship shape!

5. It Gives Us All Hope

Suppose your favourite amour one day became canon: you imagine that's the end of the matter?

Well it ain't.

Between Ash, Misty, Brock, Jessie, James, Gary and Tracey, there are three-and-a-half out of fourteen parents (Flint doesn't count as a complete man) and one out of twenty-eight grandparents, and that's not enough!

If the series drew to a close with your beloved couple apparently walking into the happily-ever-after, there's no guarantee it'll endure. In fact, the odds are they'll split up within a few years and leave another generation to fend for themselves or starve.

That's right, so don't presume the final episode is all you need to worry about. Can you rest easy knowing it'll go pear-shaped once the camera stops rolling?

It's futile soothing one's worries with:

Oh, but they know what it's like to be alone. They'd never inflict such stress on their children.

Oh really?

Look at that poor showing of grandparents. Either Pokémon has a system reminiscent of the sci-fi film Logan's Run, where everyone over thirty is vapourized, or these disappearing maters and paters were themselves victims of abandonment.

I bet when they settled down, they thought it'd be different for their kids, they'd make sure of it, but no, off they went down that same route of feckless self-indulgence, and that's being kind assuming they intended not to repeat history.

Depressing eh? What's the good in any of us surrendering to romance, real or otherwise, if love is but a mayfly of emotion, and all dreams are doomed to die?

Then Ma and Pa arrive, and suddenly the storm clouds part for a ray of heavenly light.

It's not only that they made the effort in what was probably an arranged marriage and have stayed together from youth, it's that they've stayed together when no one else has, which augments its value.

When separation is commonplace, sticking it out becomes rarer and rarer as any belief in the sanctity of wedlock erodes with every failure.

If they didn't bother, why should I? What's the use when it won't work?

Once that idea enters your head, it's over, and your gloom-laden attitude fulfils itself.

Society is collapsing about Ma and Pa's ears, but they persevere nevertheless, refusing to buckle under the turgid malaise engulfing the arrogant and weak.

It's bloody beautiful, man!

You may suggest an environment of supreme wealth erases normality, and to their class and time period divorce is still taboo, so they don't really have much of choice but to remain wedded.

Ah, but it's not as if they simply tolerate one another for appearances, or carried on for the sake of their son (which is more than anyone else did besides), not when he walked out on them.

They've been married longer than James has lived, so at least eighteen years (don't all squeal at once), and they're still blissfully contented!

They hold hands!

They use terms of endearment like 'dear' and 'my precious'!

They were made for one another!

They work as a team!

They want the same thing for James!

It could bring a stone angel to tears it's so beautiful!

See what success can be achieved when you try? When you endeavour to love the one you're with and make yourself worth loving in return?

Better that than chucking 'em at the first sign of trouble.

Ma and Pa is such an irrevocable union even the despair of losing their only child failed to tear 'em asunder, and that'd defeat many, but not this husband and wife.

Be grateful, for it means all is not in vain.

It doesn't have to be misery and pain: love can last despite the pressure of a wretched, hollow culture bent on self-destruction. Your ship might just succeed too.

God bless 'em for keeping the magic alive!

...

Why do I have the presentiment that I'm going to regret encouraging support?

#maandpashipping #team rocket #ma james #pa james #ma and pa james #james #jessie #james's mom #james's dad #james's parents #rocketshipping #kanto #holy matrimony!

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