#in which case they couldn't shave themselves and if they wanted to i would feel a little bad for them

[a9saga]

Nicole from big brother 2 is a better woman than I am because I personally would not shave my roommate's entire body, even if they asked me to.

[anotherbluesunday]

✨Fic Release: In Technicolor—Ch. 1: Hell in a Handbasket (Pugsley + Cheryl)✨

____________Pugsley/Lee____________

Just past the shopping center that housed the Erewhon Wednesday silently hissed at and Bertie audibly boo'ed was our new school. A glittering beacon of narrow-minded thinking disguised as liberalism if I'd ever seen one, I'd read up on the place. Had Jug and Reggie fill me in on what to expect and it wasn't good.

Insidious racism veiled as social work and fundraisers. Sender students being made into charity cases to make donating families and businesses feel better about themselves while they donate to political campaigns for politicians who couldn't give two shits about the working class. I could see it in the way they looked at us as we pulled up into the student parking lot and hung up the parking permit from the rearview mirror. They were sizing us up. Knew without having to ask that we were from somewhere else. Somewhere where it wasn't commonplace for sixteen year old's to have access to their parents Amex Black card.

Eyes down on the steering wheel for a moment as the girls to our right sat in their brand new canary yellow Jeep Wrangler "whispering" loudly about how dirty the truck was, Bertie reminded me it was only for a year and that chances were not everyone would be as bad as I was making them out to be in my head. Wednesday snorted a laugh from the backseat and I shot her a glance through the mirror saying "Probablemente sean monstruos chupadores de sangre." With a hard reluctant sneer, I forced myself to unbuckle. Grabbed my backpack from the backseat, slipped on my sunglasses, and heaved sigh.

"I can't believe we're actually doing this."

Shrugging her backpack onto her shoulders, Wednesday stood beside me staring at our new prison. "Just close your eyes and count to ten. It'll be over before you know it."

"Promise?"

"No."

Should have known better than to ask. But it made me laugh nonetheless. And that was the only upside here really. I wouldn't be going at this alone. I'd have Wen and Bert and a couple friends if Toni made it through the testing process since her mom made her apply too. We'd be okay. Not great. Not fine. But we'd be okay.

We'll survive.

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____________Cheryl____________

Routine on repeat like some b-rate film that used timelooping as a metaphor for repeating the past until the main character righted their wrongs, I put on my morning music playlist as I stepped into the spacious en suite bathroom that had been warmed to seventy-two degrees for me. My shampoo and conditioner never seemed to run out. My bodywash was always in supply. Shaving razors never dulled and toothpaste never emptied paste the halfway point. The only thing I was burdened with was remembering when to restock my skincare items which, even when they did run out, it was never a problem because there was nothing that couldn't be handled with a quick call.

Perfectly controlled and acclimated. It was like a dollhouse inside of a greenhouse.

Everything's monitored and privacy is a privilege.

You missed practice this morning. It was from dad, the message brightening the screen of my phone as I stepped out of the shower. We'll double up tonight's session and split it for before and after dinner.

Staring at the message, I hesitated. Could hear the small scream itching at the back of my neck like nails dragging down the nerves hidden beneath my skin.

I wanted to throw up and I hadn't eaten anything yet.

I'll have homework. I told him.

You can do it afterwards. Slacking off once leads to habitual laziness Cheryl. No excuses.

My stomach knotted. Worked itself up until the familiar aftertaste of vomit ghosted itself on my taste buds.

The cold sweats that came with it.

The dizzying nausea.

Looking at myself in my vanity mirror, I dissected the bags under my dull brown eyes. Examined my hairline to see if it had thinned anymore than what mom had pointed to over the summer when we went on vacation to Portugal. "It must be from the stress. You should sleep more darling" she had said. At least my lashes had grown back after my nervous snap over spring semester.

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*IMPORTANT NOTE!: Please do keep in mind while reading that the characters Pubert and Pugsley have nicknames that they go by and will go by for most of the story. For Pugsley, his nickname is “Lee” and for Pubert, his nickname is “Bert” or “Bertie.” Wednesday sometimes goes by “Wen” but I feel like that is a known in the Wednesday fandom but I wanted to mention it quickly for readers in the Riverdale fandom so that they’re in the loop.

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[youremyheaven]

https://www.tumblr.com/youremyheaven/752187239996473344/so-wild-being-raised-by-a-girly-girl-bc-this-woman?source=share

Man I wish it was like this in my case me and my sister were forced to keep military haircut well to alteast we turned 11, then I rebelled but she didn't so she had to keep a super short Bob cut till she was 15. No it was not consensual we were forced to keep that haircut and I would cry everything at barber, we dressed like boys till 12. I guess it was there dire need of wanting a boy or maybe some astrological placement but I don't know my parents chart. I the problem child andblack sheep of family is saturnian and my sister the golden child is lunar. And this year I shaved my head and my parents cussed at me and now they don't like me with short hair. Make it make sense 😭😭

im so sorry to hear that 😔 i hope both you and your sister are in a better place 🥺🫶🏼 you're healing your inner child now 💛

idk why some parents are so contrarian for no reason 💀😪

Saturnian blacksheep and Lunar golden child, but both lowkey abused is soooo on brand

Saturnians know what they're going through and are fully aware of its injustice, Lunars kind of get lost in the mind games and brainwashing and kind of fully surrender to their circumstances (which is why so many Lunar women find themselves in abusive relationships)

I remember when I was a kid, I was besties with 2 sisters (who had 2 more younger sisters) and their dad was super trad and conservative and wouldn't let them get their hair cut short ?? bc he thought girls should have long hair?? and they're just like 9 and 11 with like hair past their butt and it's super knotted and tangled and they didn't care for it properly 🤧 and this guy also had a rule that they should never leave their hair open at home bc open hair = attracting the devil 🤡and one day the younger sister had her hair open and he dragged her to the bathroom and chopped all her hair off,, i remember how she came to school with a very weird looking pixie cut and when she told me what happened I was so scared bc wtf 😭 anyways that friend of mine had Anuradha & Vishaka placements 👀 so she had Saturnian influence too 🧐 I'll have to look more into why some parents are excessively authoritarian with their Saturnian children 🤔

My mom always wanted me to keep my bangs as a kid even tho I outgrew it by like 5th grade,, and yk what she did??? She cut my bangs when i slept😭😭and I remember feeling like something was off but couldn't figure out why for like weeeeks and then my uncle visited us and he was like "aww u got bangs again so cute" and then it was like everything clicked and I lost my mind 🥲😤 tbh i should've just listened to her bc her styling was always on point and she always made me look amazing but I guess I had to find my own identity 😪

[andromedagarcia]

Meda's lips spread into that uneven smile of hers when Kuina offered to share her bikinis. She was startled at finding kindness in a place where anyone would have thought there was none. But, after spending five minutes with her, could she really be surprised any longer? She just exuded it, as well as warmth, affection, consideration. 'I think we might have a similar size, so don't be surprised if I take you up on the offer.' She nodded, letting out a soft chuckle at the mention of Mira and An, who she had seen only maybe once or twice. She agreed wholeheartedly with Kuina's assessment of their style, recalling how both women looked like the epitome of poise, which was something worth admiring in the Borderlands.

'Oh, believe me. I have no plans to name my kids... anything, really. I don't even know if I want them.' Having kids was something Meda had never considered seriously. She liked children, yes, she was a preschool teacher after all... but that meant that she, precisely, also knew the horrors. It was lovely when a three year old came running towards you, threw their arms around your neck and showered you with kisses, claiming you were their favorite teacher and calling you Ando because they could hardly roll their r's, but... what about the tantrums? Shitting and peeing themselves? Being irritated and snappy without reason? She shook her head, putting behind her right ear a few strands of long, dark hair that had fallen on her face. Also, she wasn't really sure about having offspring because they typically inherited their parent's traumas and... she didn't want to just dump them somewhere. She couldn't bear it. She had enough of her own. She had seen that way too many times: adults growing up touch-starved and scared of intimacy because mum and dad had never told them how much they loved them, or even if they did. She was one of them.

'I know you did not say it to get a compliment in return, it's just... literally everyone in this world would pale in comparison to you.' Meda said. And she meant it. It was one thing being beautiful, having symmetric features, pretty eyes, lips, a cute nose... but Kuina was stunning both inside and out, in each and every sense of the word, on brain edges, at the center of what she was, of her heart. And Andrómeda had always been attracted to beauty, that being the reason why she took so much care of herself.

Like with her hair, for example. Or her nails. Or her toned body. But again, Kuina had absolutely nothing to envy. 'Might be. But actually, it's a disadvantage. Imagine someone would come from behind and just... tug at it, like at a game or something.' She illustrated her example by doing just that, but didn't want to interrupt, actually enjoying the feeling of Kuina's fingers on her hair. That could very well happen, because she refused to put it up as well, unless the occasion required it. And playing a deadly game, apparently, was not one of those.

'I have to say I do, yes.' The image of Alexander popped into her head: a big man, all muscle, long blonde hair, a red beard. She also liked bald men, or with a shaved head and... basically, as long as he was big and strong she would fuck just about anything. She shared that information with Kuina, quickly adding: '...but I don't really know why. Daddy issues, maybe? I also have mommy issues, but I've never been with a woman. I don't really know if I'd like it. But... I guess I can't say anything until I try it.' And actually, if she were to have sex with a girl, most likely it would be with someone like Kuina. In fact, for a second or two, while looking at her, she can't help but wonder how her lips would feel pressing against hers; softer, fuller, no stub to tickle at her face.

She never blushed. But at that moment, she felt the blood rushing to her cheeks, and so she quickly looked away from Kuina's mouth, which she had been ogling until then. Had she noticed? And, in case she had, did she care?

Thankful for the change in topic, and for the mention of her siblings, which was quickly followed by a loss of libido, she moves her head in a negative gesture. 'They wouldn't join the militants. But they'll get in trouble, it's their thing. I wouldn't be surprised if Cass has been held at gunpoint once or twice already without me knowing...' She hadn't been shot, of course, because then Meda'd have been mourning and not getting ready to go out and party. But the fact that it hadn't happened yet, didn't mean it wouldn't eventually.

@kuinaoflight

A chuckle escaped Meda's lips, an organic response to Kuina's reaction to hearing her favorite cocktails. She really didn't mind, in fact, quite the opposite. She found it quite endearing, very... natural. Like something a little kid would do, and she was a preschool teacher after all. She loved children precisely because she adored that kind of behavior. How they would just... dump the grape juice on the floor because they fucking hated it while an adult would stand there, resisting the urge to heave every time they drank from it. 'Don't worry, I don't feel offended, at all.' She reassured Kuina with a smile.

'In fact, I want you to be honest with me, always. Feel free to share whatever. Like, even if you hate what I'm wearing, or the way I did my hair, let me know.' She lowered her gaze, looking at her bikini. Hatter's damned dress code. It was not like there were many options to choose from, maybe just the color and the cut, but still. Meda knew, for example, she looked awful in yellow and would like her friends, her real friends, to tell her if that was the case.

'I think it's pretty, but it's too weird. There are words that are beautiful, but I wouldn't name my children after them. Like... miasma or hemorrhoid. I like how they sound, but why would I subject my kids to living with that?' She wasn't being exactly fair, because her name was either that of a constellation, of a princess in mythology or of the closest galaxy to Earth. And the words she had mentioned meant unpleasant vapors or swollen veins near the rectum. But still. She couldn't help but roll her eyes in annoyance, not at Kuina, but at her parent's wonderful ideas. 'It would have been almost okay, had they not decide to continue the theme with Cassiopeia and Hércules.'

'Have you looked at yourself?' Meda blurted out the question after hearing Kuina call her pretty, saying that she was jealous. She really hoped she was exaggerating and didn't mean it literally, because the woman in front of her was literally stunning. Absolutely gorgeous. Breathtaking. Andrómeda knew she herself was pretty, yes, she was not one to deny it. Her and her siblings had been blessed, but of course, because her parents, as absent as they had been in their lives, were also a very attractive pair. One thing did not take away from the other. Kuina, however, did not fall behind. At all. 'Do what you want, go crazy.' She laughed, entertained, enjoying how... normal all of this was. She took a sip of her drink, realizing she was enjoying her conversation with the young woman so much she had even forgot she had it.

The sex question made her burst into laughter, both because she wasn't expecting it and because of Kuina's expression. Totally serious. 'More than you think.' She answered, with a devilish wink, a flip of her hair and a half smile. 'I had this boyfriend, Alex... we just fought all of the time. And had sex. And fought. And had sex. I don't miss him at all, because he was an idiot, but... the sex was really good.' She pictured his face for a moment, but quickly went back to focusing on the conversation. He had disappeared, as had the rest of the world. There was no point thinking about it, especially not now that she was having a lot of fun. For the first time in what felt like forever.

'I've heard.' She did not find the idea of the militants particularly reassuring. They were there to keep everybody safe, but it felt more like they were keeping everyone in line. Also, guaranteeing someone's safety did not really work when they were sadistic, and had bigger problems managing anger than the ones Meda had admitted to. 'I don't plan on getting close, but with my siblings... I think it'll be difficult to completely avoid them.' The sinews on her neck stood up as she swallowed, knowing very well both Cass and Hérc loved getting in trouble. She was, as always, feeling a little bit tired of being the mother, when she should have been nothing but an older sister.

@kuinaoflight

[tricos-here]

Unrolls a list of questions for Jessamy but it's like a CVS receipt long:

👻 GHOST - do they believe in ghosts? what are their "ghostly experiences", if any?

🍧 SHAVED ICE - do they still have any objects from their childhood? what significance does it have to them? what would their reaction be if they lost it?

🌱 SEEDLING - what is their most vivid memory from childhood?

🔪 KNIFE - how do they react to injury / misfortune befalling their loved ones (significant other, family, friends)? do they put themselves at blame?

🌟 GLOWING STAR - what do they think about when they look at the night sky? is there someone they want to star gaze with?

👻 GHOST - do they believe in ghosts? what are their "ghostly experiences", if any?

Considering how commonplace ghosts are in Tyria, it'd be hard not to believe in them. She hasn't had any noteworthy ghostly experiences really, they all kind of blend together after a while and they're more often than not just a nuisance to her work, though she does sometimes feels a pang of sympathy towards the ones that are seemingly stuck in a loop of distress

🍧 SHAVED ICE - do they still have any objects from their childhood? what significance does it have to them? what would their reaction be if they lost it?

She still has a bud from the Pale Tree, worn as an amulet and given to her by her mentor in the Grove when she was still a sapling. She's not a particularly sentimental person so if you'd asked her personally what its significance is, she'd just say it's enchanted and that it helps her with her magic, among other things, which is true - but between you and me, it has some sentimental value to her as well, if not for being a gift from her first mentor then because of the nostalgia and the memories it invokes, considering how long it's been since she's been at the Grove properly

She'd admittedly get frantic trying to look for it if she'd lost it, even if she wouldn't let others see that, and certainly feel sad but resigned if she couldn't find it, though she wouldn't linger on it long

🌱 SEEDLING - what is their most vivid memory from childhood?

I think, besides her Dream, that'd be raising her first minion, it was one of the last things she learned to do as a necromancer, both because her mentor wasn't a big fan of minions, just as she'd turn out to be, and because she had trouble raising them. So finally being able to raise one properly was an obstacle she was proud to overcome, even if she then proceeded to never really use them in combat again

🔪 KNIFE - how do they react to injury / misfortune befalling their loved ones (significant other, family, friends)? do they put themselves at blame?

Implying she has loved ones lmao Her first reaction would be to lash out onto whatever had caused the injury / misfortune, after of course making sure they're alright and won't y'know, bleed out while she's going feral, in the case of an injury. She may at times blame herself, likely often was responsible in some way anyways, but she'd wave it off, not one to linger on what has been and instead just forge on ahead - surely she can fix everything later anyways right

that said, that is likely to change in the future 🏃‍♂️

🌟 GLOWING STAR - what do they think about when they look at the night sky? is there someone they want to star gaze with?

She's actually quite enamored and fascinated by the night sky, she'd awakened in dusk, just as the stars were starting to shine through, and with the crescent moon in her Dream she'd often find herself looking at the night sky. Often, while on field missions, she'd forego a tent and sleep under the sky instead, studying constellations - it is curious to her that there's seemingly more information about the vastness of the Mists rather than their own sky and stars

Certainly hasn't thought of stargazing with someone in that way yet, the only concept in her mind is looking at the sky with other Whispers Agents or Pact Soldiers while gathered around a campfire or in an academic way

[amethystpath-writes]

Secret Caretaking

Tumblr is acting extremely dumb so there's a high possibility that this will post twice now.

@badthingshappenbingo

Original Work

Secret Caretaking

Angel and demon whump, anyone?

@whatwhumpcomments

******

The halls changed as Angel walked through them. She did this often, walked, and watched what her Holy Land provided her with- what she desired. It was such a delicate system, one always so soft and comforting, but one that only ever served as a happiness while you explored it.

Usually she saw Earth's puppies and baby alligators- goodness she loved the alligators. All of the other angels disliked them- didn't hate them, but weren't particularly fond either. In any case, Angel loved them.

There were other rooms, of course.

Another room she loved passing through was the cloud rooms. Sometimes the clouds were painted with an early sunrise. Other times they were sunset. And the remainder of the times were solid colours that made the clouds look like something the humans would make with cotton and the coloured bulbs they created.

The Holy Land knew her well. Of course it did. It knew every angel inside and out.

Today, the land brought Angel something it never did before. As she walked through the ever changing hall and forever open doors of glorious joy, she spotted a closed door, one black and with a slit at the top with thick metal bars.

Angel stopped, peering at it from a few feet away. She...well, she didn't really like that door. It kind of frightened her. Why was the Holy Land giving her such a dark door? Angel didn't understand. But the Holy Land always knew what she wanted. Surely whatever was inside could be deemed relevant to herself.

With a deep breath, she collected herself, straightening her spine, lifting her chin until it was parallel with ground. This was how Angel walked when things were normal, and this- this completely normal door- was normal. Normal, normal, normal.

There was a handle, one that looked like old, rusting iron. This is normal. This is meant for me. Angel gripped the handle and pushed it forward until she was stepping and sliding through the crack. She watched her feet, careful not to trip over them.

When the door shut, she looked up to see her own light illuminating the room- more than that, she was illuminating a-a form. She didn't dare think the real word, even as she squealed in a sudden fear and let her back slam against the door she'd just slipped through.

"Ah, another of you."

Angel's light dimmed to almost match the pitch black the room had been before. But her light could never be dimmed all the way, especially in her silky white hair which glowed with a faint yellow-orange. Angels couldn't shave their hair, or else they lost their purity. It's why the man in front of Angel terrified her so. His hair was cut short- previously shaved, but now fuzzy, and no longer white or glowing. His skin was the colour of ash- grey, black, and white, like a fire burnt out. He was Fallen.

"You shouldn't be here, y'know?" His voice was barely a whisper. It made Angel wonder how it was so deep, how it penetrated her absent mind so easily. She was usually so good at blocking things out around her. Right now, Angel couldn't even think passed the fallen man's voice, the way he was stretched out before her, wings spread with rings punched into the thick leather and then attached to the walls on either side. She imagined those rings in her own wings and let out an involuntary whimper.

Her hand reached for the handle. She would pull herself up and then open the door and walk out. Simple. But it wasn't so easy as that. Her whole body trembled, shook like when Earth's tectonic plates shifted over one another.

"Come now. Won't you say anything?" The fallen man paused, waiting for a response of any kind. Then, when he received none, he said, "I may be in no position to tell you to leave, but maybe I could scare you out. That is, if you don't give me proper company. You did intrude. It's only polite that you give me your name."

His voice pinned Angel where she was. She wouldn't look up at him, not again. He seemed so large. Was it because she was cowered on the floor or was he really so big as that? She swallowed, still trying to clutch and pull herself to her feet.

"Alright, then."

Angel screamed and hid her head behind her clutched knees as the fallen jerked his wings forward. There was a persistent, but not quite repetitive, sound of something being pulled tight- a chain maybe. He was flapping his wings wildly and with each thrum and pull of it, Angel's body clenched tight like she was preparing for the man-thing to break free and hold a hand against her throat.

She didn't realize she was crying until the fallen stopped moving and told her, "You shouldn't be crying. I'm the one shredding myself over here."

"Shredding yourself?" Her voice was quiet. She hardly even heard herself. With closed eyes, Angel focused on her breaths. When she felt her limbs finally relaxing just a bit, she opened her eyes and looked at the wings before her. She didn't dare look at his face; she was too afraid of what she might find there, but his wings- his wings were destroyed, a torn line down each one from the rings he just hurt himself with. Angel stood in an instant.

"Why would you do that to yourself!" She clamped a hand against her own mouth. Angel spoke to the fallen man. She said something to him. There was no rule against it, per say, but- well, angels didn't talk to the fallen. Maybe it was a fear that, despite there being no rule, if they talked to one of the fallen, they would fall themselves. Maybe they would accidentally introduce themselves to the fallen- and therefore doom themselves.

Even with this terror in mind, Angel touched the bat-like, membranous wing in front of her. She stood at the right wing, shaking her head when her finger made contact and as a shudder traveled through her. Angel breathed shakily with the shudder, stiffening with eyes rolling back for a moment. She withdrew her hand.

"Will you heal?" Angel croaked.

"Of course I will." His voice was louder than a whisper now, but still quieter than his regular volume, Angel could tell. "Just not as quickly without your light."

"I won't give you my light," Angel said, dead-panned.

The fallen man laughed, and Angel watched the wing in front of her bounce as he did so. Her legs were still tensed as she stood. Damn him- literally- for getting her to speak by hurting himself.

"Oh no, no, no, no, dear angel. You would never give your light to my kind. But you would lend it, wouldn't you? Lend it if it were put to good use?"

Swallowing, Angel turned her head towards his own. Her tongue was pushed against the roof of her mouth.

His eyes were like fresh embers.

"You can still be saved," she observed by the glow of his eyes. Without herself realizing it, she took steps closer to his center mass, reaching a hand towards his face. His teeth snapped at her fingers and she yelped, retreating her hand. "You seem perfectly demonic to me. The Holy Land can't possibly see any angelic qualities in you."

"Now, if that were true, you wouldn't be here."

"And how would you know?"

He chuckled at Angel, and she hated the way his eyes glowed brighter when he did. She hated the beauty they portrayed. His eyes were the equivalent to Angel's hair.

"Did you forget I was an angel once, too? The Holy Land led you here. I take it it's because you desire to feel helpful." His eyes dimmed; he was manipulating her and she knew it. Still, he was right. All she ever did was wander around her halls and rooms. She was useless. But- "You could heal me, y'know? It's about the only way you'll feel any fulfillment in this hellhole you call heaven."

Angel thought about it, disregarding his aversion to her home. He had no right to be calling the Holy Land a- a...the word he said.

"Healing you might cause me to fall." Her voice was quiet, but seeing as she was directly in front of the fallen man, he heard her.

"The Holy Land would lure you into a trap?" He smirked, and she knew what he was implying. How holy could the Land truly be if it deceived its own angels?

"Well, yeah. You were tempted, weren't you? The Land is testing me. You- you're a test to me." Which also meant-

"If you walk out of here now without doing anything to help, I'll be hurt worse for attempting to escape." His eyes flared with an orange-red colour again. "I have a feeling they won't make you my tormentor. So, walk out and forever know you're a failure to yourself. Or, satisfy your one and only desire and heal me. Help someone real, even if it's a Fallen One."

He's right. You know he's right, she said to herself. As lovely as the puppy rooms, alligator rooms, and rooms of colourful clouds were...they would never be enough for her. Because she did want to help. It was all she ever wanted, to be a true angel, not just an emergency one- one that stepped in only when there weren't enough angels to help with a catastrophy on Earth with the humans.

"What if-" Angel turned her gaze down, ashamed that she was even thinking about doing this. But...but it was the only way she could feel eternally happy. She needed to be useful. "If I just heal you and leave, they'll know. Because if this is a test, they'll be waiting for me to come out of this room. And if you're healed, they'll know. They'll see my light in the once damaged parts of your wings."

The fallen man hummed as she spoke, agreeing with eyes burning something hot. He didn't feel it, of course, but his vision was always clearer when his foolery and trickery were in play- and succeeding.

"I'll heal you, and you can use the same light to make an illusion that the light is gone. A cloak. The fallen can still use light if they can still be saved. Your eyes reveal your cunningness, which means the Holy Land still accepts you enough that at least one angel will know to help. And I will. I'll help you, if you help me, too."

"You'll have yourself a deal if-" The fallen's lips curled and split to reveal yellowed and dirtied teeth. Four of them were sharpened, like a wolf's. Two on top. Two on bottom. The other angels said the Fallen used them to feed on their light so that they could return. It was terrifying to say the least, but even with teeth like his, the Fallen were beautiful creatures. Angel hated them- hated him, but he was her ticket to true happiness. "-you give me your name."

"What?"

His shoulders lifted and relaxed. "You heard me. I want your name."

"No." She shook her head. "No. No, you know I can't do that."

"It's the only word I'll trust of yours. Your promise, your word...it comes with your name. It's the only way I can trust you'll come back and heal me when the others inevitably torture me again."

Angel felt a fury she never felt before. Holy Land, she didn't even know what fury was. Melancholy, yes. Anger, no. "You don't need my name," Angel seethed. "The only thing you could ever use it for would be to- to return to Holy Land as an angel yourself and- and damn me in the end. Angels aren't allowed to give their names to the fallen. But you know that."

There were too many conflictions in this all. If she left the near-demon here without healing him, she'd never be content. But if she healed him and walked out without giving him her name, he wouldn't cast the illusion to save her skin. And if she did give her name, well he could use it at any point against her, to condemn her to Hell.

"How do I know you won't use my name the moment you learn it?"

The fallen man rose a brow, slid his jaw askew. "You think I want to be an angel even after they casted me away. No. But if I have to choose between being an angel and being tortured by them, I'll take the former unless I can escape- which you are going to help me do."

"But you didn't say-"

"It should have been a given, dear angel."

"I'll damn us both," she said, crossing her arms. It was cute. Wrath and cunning didn't match her features or personality. "I'll heal you for my satisfaction and if you won't cast an illusion to save me then your one chance at escaping will be gone because they'll take my feathered wings. I'll be fallen like you and you'll still be in this room being tortured."

The Fallen One sighed in a dreamily way. "You won't let yourself fall. It terrifies you. I wouldn't know it as well as I do lest you had reacted differently when you realized what was behind that door when you walked in. And again when I flapped my wings. You. Flinched. Every. Time." He laughed. "But here's the thing. You aren't afraid of me. No, you're afraid of becoming me. You're going to give me your name. And you're going to hope with all your angelic being that I'm an honest 'near-demon', as your kind likes to call my own, wishing for God or the Devil's good grace."

Angel blew her nose like a bull, a huff more-like. "I shouldn't," she whispered to herself. "I can't." But the Holy Land says he can be saved. You have to try, Angel.

With a deep breath, she got to work. The glow in her hair gathered into her scalp before sinking into her blood. "My teeth aren't sharp enough to pierce flesh," she said, and swallowed like so many times before while she'd been in this room. She needed to wipe her light on his wings to heal him, but she couldn't get to her light on her own. "I- I need you to..."

"To bite." The Fallen One smiled, on corner of his upper lip lifting further than the rest. "Gladly," he said, and licked his teeth, lip curling a little too long on his sharpest ones.

Angel shook her head, took a shuddering breath, and hovered her index finger in front of the near-demon's mouth. He bit, closing his lips against her finger. Angel gasped, feeling the way his tongue lapped against her skin. "No. No, please! Stop!" But he wasn't stopping. He was going to steal all of her light. "My name is Angel!" His mouth opened. She stole her hand back, clutching it to her chest with her other. Angel nearly sobbed with relief, and also dread as she had just exposed herself to the Fallen One.

"You thought you were clever." His tongue wiped across his teeth where a bit of Angel's blood remained. "You thought with your little ramblings, I'd forget you never told me your name. Angel," he drawled. "Almost as delicious of a name as is your light. No matter. I have the light I need. You'll come back every week to give me more, or else I'll introduce you to Dear Ole Luci."

Angel took a step back, nose scrunched. "You can't be saved," she spat at him.

He sighed. "Didn't I already tell you I didn't want to be saved?" The Fallen One hummed. "Is that more light I see coming through the slits in the door? Looks like you're running out of time to leave my cell, Angel. I'd be scurrying along now."

She had to suppress the urge to scream and tear into him, not only because she might be caught, but because thoughts like that would earn her a ticket to Hell more quickly than what the other angels could tear her wings and throw her there themselves. "If," Angel stressed this word. "If you trick another angel into this evil bidding, I will sacrifice my wings in order to rip your own to pieces."

"Feisty," he mused in return. "Go on, now. I'll look forward to our next visit."

One last huff and she rushed out of the door. Damn him, she thought. And damn me for being fooled so easily.

******

If this weren't for a prompt, I would have split it into two 😬

[loveforpreserumsteve]

Caught: "APTF" Story (Modern Stucky College AU)

The One Where Bucky Should've Knocked:

All It took was one look into those big, cerulean blue eyes for Bucky's whole life to change.

It wasn't unusual for Bucky to find another boy attractive. But it had taken him meeting Steve for him to start to wonder if all those simple observations about one's muscles being nice or wishing his jaw was as chiseled as another's were, well, simple observations. After all, no boy had ever set Bucky on fire like this. No one had ever done this.

And it was starting to become an issue.

The more time that Bucky spent with Steve, the more adorable the blond became. Like how Steve's alabaster cheeks turned the cutest shade of pink that warmed Bucky straight to the core as though he had just drank some coffee -- no, something sweeter, hot chocolate. Or the way that when Steve concentrated, the tip of his tongue poked out between his pillowy lips.

Bucky was ashamed by the fact that he had dreamed about those pillowy lips more than once. What they would feel like against his own. The way that they would look wrapped around him...

Shaking his head, Bucky made himself pause. He removed the borrowed keys from his pocket and then paused. Wondering if he should knock. Just in case. After all, just because Sam was gone, it was Steve's room too.

But no, Sam had given him the key because Steve was at his class. That was the whole reason for it. Glancing down at his almost dead phone, he fit the key into the lock easily and opened the door.

Which was the biggest mistake he made because there, reclined on his bed, was Steve jerking himself off. Thick ropes of white come spurted from his hard cock and onto his flushed stomach. A stark contrast with each other that tattooed themselves on the inside of Bucky's eyelids.

His heart was pounding so aggressively in his chest that it felt like it was going to break through and reenact all the recent fantasies he had been having of his new friend. And -- oh god, oh fuck -- Steve was his friend! He trusted him to be that, a friend!

Quickly snapping back to himself, Bucky covered his eyes and called out, "Oh, fuck! I'm sorry!" Bumping into the door and causing it to close with him on the wrong side of it. Trying again, he managed to get the door open and stumbled out of it before slamming the door closed.

Breathing erratically, Bucky tried to calm down. Then, he couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of him in hysterics. Wondering if this was what Steve felt whenever he had an asthma attack. Hoping that it wasn't, since it sucked.

Removing his phone from his pocket, he used the five percent battery life to send a quick text to Sam, I THOUGHT STEVE HAD CLASS!

Glancing at the dorm room, his heart slammed still in his ribcage when he was able to see how debauched Steve looked. Certain that the way his blond hair was attractively mussed and his cheeks were flushed was already rewriting his imagined self. Because, of course, Steve had to be a reminder that his imagination was shit and lacking.

"Um," Bucky held up Sam's keys, "Sam said that you had class and that I could let myself in to get my charger."

"Oh," Steve nodded, avoiding Bucky's gaze. Still blushing as he held the door open, letting Bucky into his dorm, "My lecture was canceled today."

"Oh," Bucky dumbly repeated, heading over to Sam's desk where his charger was. Briefly wishing Steve wasn't home so he could put shaving cream in Sam's bed or replace all of his pens with ones out of ink. Maybe mismatch his socks.

However, Steve was there, and while that normally would've excited Bucky, he didn't want to necessarily get excited. At least not after he embarrassed himself and walked in on his friend mid-orgasm.

And, oh, he snapped back to himself. That one thought echoed inside his head. Friend. That one little word and Bucky's heart slipped down into his stomach. Just that one word brought the moment into harsh perspective. They were friends. They were only friends.

It took a moment for Bucky to realize that he didn't want that. Perhaps he never had. But he was still trying to understand this himself. After all, Bucky had only dated girls. Not consciously only choosing girls. He just liked the attention from pretty girls.

Bucky glanced over at Steve and amended: pretty people. Because Steve was just about the prettiest person Bucky had ever seen. Sure, Bucky had always had a thing for petite blonds. But did any of them have the smattering of freckles on Steve's high cheekbones? Did any of them get that adorable v between their brows when they thought? Or have such artistically beautiful hands as he did?

And, oh, was Bucky Barnes fucked.

Keeping his attention on his charger, Bucky reluctantly headed for the door. Over his shoulder, he called out, "I'll see you around!"

For a moment, Bucky thought about turning back and trying to pretend that nothing had happened. But Bucky wasn't sure if he could ever do that. Not with Steve's chin tilted up and his mouth open in a nearly silent scream of ecstasy. No, that would definitely be looping in his mind later when he could get his own hand around himself.

Until then though, Bucky needed some advice. So, he headed for Bridgette's. After all, she was a bright girl and perhaps she could help him considering she, herself, was discovering and exploring her own sexuality. Of course, Bucky was the luckier one in this instance. At least his crush wasn't his roommate.

Glad to see the door open, Bucky let himself in and blurted, "I THINK I'M GAY!"

Bridgette's manicured brow quirked and her mouth dropped open in her surprise by the outburst. Shifting in her computer seat so her legs were underneath her, she tucked a wayward blonde strand behind her ear and she asked, "And you think this because...?"

"I have a crush," Bucky explained, sitting down on her messy, unmade bed. To himself, he quietly reiterated, "I have a crush?"

This amused her as she sing-songed, "On who?"

"Steve," Bucky quietly admitted even though it was just the two of them.

"Wait," Bridgette climbed off her computer chair and sat across from him on the twin size bed, "Art Class Steve?"

Bucky blushed again. Not remembering what he had told her about Steve. Even more embarrassing though, Bucky couldn't remember how many people he had told about Steve. Trying to mentally count the people. Bridgette, obviously. Darren, from calculus. Clint, duh. Tibby, which meant he also told his mom. And he was certain that if he brought up Steve's name to his other sisters, they'd definitely complain.

As the list got longer the more Bucky knew he couldn't hide his crush. Pretty soon, the whole world would know, all because Bucky couldn't keep his mouth shut when it came to Steve. The more he thought about it, the more he decided that it wasn't the worst thing in the world to know that Bucky had a crush.

"Yes, Art Class Steve," Bucky confirmed.

Bridgette's grin grew and she shimmied her shoulders with her excitement, "Yay! I knew you had a crush on him, but I wasn't going to say anything because I'm not the type to do that. So, what's the plan?"

"Plan?" Bucky's brows furrowed.

"Yeah," Bridgette clarified, "Ya know, what're ya gonna do? Gonna ask him out? Make a move? Anything?"

"I don't even know if he's into guys," Bucky admitted, his face heating and his stomach twisting in knots. Even softer, he said, "I don't even know if I'm into guys."

"Well, clearly you like Steve," Bridgette deduced. Bucky nodded and she asked, "Have you ever been attracted to other men? Or is it more about the person's personality?"

Bucky wracked his mind. On more than one occasion, he had spent too long looking at the boy band posters on his sisters' walls. And maybe, he had had fantasies about Zac Efron. Especially after he had gotten buff for that Nicholas Sparks' movie.

"Maybe it's a little bit of both?"

Bridgette gave his knee a comforting squeeze and graced him with a fond smile, "It's okay if you don't know."

"Thanks," Bucky smiled, placing his hand over hers. Then, of course, he added, "Full disclosure, I'm still attracted to women."

"That makes two of us," Bridgette good-naturedly teased and winked at him.

Just then, Natasha entered the dorm room and threw herself down on her bed. The affection that took over Bridgette's face was more obvious than if she had written Mrs. Bridgette Romanoff on her notebook. Then, Bucky wondered if he was that obvious. Until he got this all figured out, he really hoped he wasn't. Even more so since he didn't know Steve's sexuality.

Natasha looked between the pair and asked, "Am I interrupting something? Because I can leave."

Checking his watch, Bucky climbed off the bed and assured, "No, I gotta get to class. See you guys later."

"Bye!" The girls said in unison.

All through his physics class, the only thing he could think about was Steve. How could he ask the blond out without (a.) scaring him away and (b.) without letting the blond know what his feelings were. After all, he knew he needed to get a grip of his own feelings before trying to bring him in. Especially if it could ruin their budding friendship.

Turning, he spotted a pretty blonde sizing him up. Bucky could feel himself ease into the guy that he had always appeared to be: the Ladies Man. He wasn't as inexperienced with girls as he was with boys. Plus, it didn't hurt that she seemed interested. If Steve wasn't into guys, at least he wouldn't be completely alone.

No matter how shitty that kind of thinking was.

After class, Bucky loitered at the exit until the blonde met him. She gazed up at him as though he dazzled her. Bucky clarified, "Jessica, right?"

"Right," she seductively bit at her lower lip, purposely drawing Bucky's gaze there.

Bringing his sight up to her eyes, Bucky smiled, "Have you heard about the Stark Expo?"

[theangrypokemaniac]

Sinnoh has massive flaws as an era, although it's starting to feel like the good old days compared to the present piss-poor offerings.

The major drawback is the amount of 'recurring characters', ones not good enough to be in it fully, but inflicted upon us nevertheless.

I did care about Ash. I did care about Team Rocket.

I was prepared to care about The Misty Replacement, as in the girl shipped with Ash.

I was prepared to care about The Brock Replacement, that is the older brother figure who does all the cooking, carries the medicine, and knows about Pokémon.

I don't give a toss about extras who outstay their welcome.

Hoenn only had Drew and Harley. What was wrong with that?

There are just too bloody many.

Why does Dawn require so many opponents, as if she's of the greatest importance? Why won't Jessie suffice?

I accept the necessity of Paul as The Rival, and we were at least permitted to resent him initially, before the writers fanboy'd like there was no tomorrow.

I admit I liked two of them. They therefore featured the least.

Typical.

Nando

The Blondel of Iberia

A softly-spoken, raven-locked troubadour, roaming the many pathways of life, playing his songs for those weary travellers he encounters on the road.

He's wearing a cloak! The finest use of material to ever be invented!

All this ethereal grace considering the dub lumbered him with the most appallingly unsuitable name possible.

It could've been Raphael, or Dante, or Leonardo.

Oh no, let's name him after a restaurant chain. That adds gravitas.

His lyre pays tribute to Mew, because Nando knows she's The Rarest Of All Pokémon, thus refuses to be impressed by any deformed horse like Arceus throwing its weight around.

Damn straight.

Ursula

A pretty girl with lovely clothes and the spark of a proper personality.

You're not wanted round these parts, love.

I have no particular animosity towards Dawn, but it irritates me how the world revolves around her whims, where if she's lost in the woods, it's a major disaster, and if an attack heads in her direction, she must be protected in case she shatters.

It makes a refreshing change to find someone firmly inoculated against the lures of the temptress.

Also, alongside Ursula from Dinosaur King (the real Jessie), I'm glad of any attempt to reclaim that name, considering most of my generation, upon hearing it, think only about evil old octopus women.

As for the rest?

It's that bad I prefer the Unova bunch to these.

Reggie

Reggie is even more of a knob than Paul. As above, being Ash's enemy meant that, if only by narrative, he was intended to be somewhat disliked.

Not Reginald. No, he's the kind one.

Oh really?

When Ash and Paul have their showdown, Reg starts wittering that it's just as well Chimchar took up with Ash, since he wasn't suited to Paul's 'battle style'.

Battle style.

Is the what he calls mental and physical cruelty?

In Reg's amoral cesspit of a mind, there is no right and wrong, so do whatever you feel.

Reggie is quite aware of how his brother tortures Pokémon, and not only is he unconcerned, he excuses it with euphemism, hoping the audience will obligingly forget too.

What's more, he implies it's Chimchar's fault for not pulling his weight, and Paul abandoning him was the compassionate thing to do.

Cynthia

Suffering severe Bridge Nose Syndrome.

She may be Champion, but I don't remember Lance turning up all the time where he wasn't wanted.

She doesn't even use her influence properly. Rather than give it straight to Paul, order him to shape up and stop spanking the monkey, she fannies about with her cod mysticism, emptily preaching about how Ash and Paul are spiritually linked, with magical, beeyewteefull events taking form just because they met.

That's right, don't bother about Paul clearly being a psychopath, for 'tis ART!

It's the same as trying to convince me that Ash, Dawn and Brock were the Divine Trio because they all saw Something Nasty In The Lake District, as if they have an intrinsic bond foretold in ancient prophecy.

The writers pull this knowing two thirds of the Holy Trinity, plus Paul the Fallen Angel, will be leaving, at which point we'll be expected to stop being overawed at the great majesty they all apparently possess and transfer allegiance to their usurpers.

What's the point?

Angie

Yet another smackhead from that lunatic stare.

What shining genius decided giving all the characters contracted pupils was a good idea?

She looks like one of those kids whose parents dealt with nits the traditional way:

Shaving the entire head and painting it purple.

A barnet resembling privet hacked at by a paralytic gardener before he conked out.

I've seen her arc three or four times, and I still remember nothing about her, except for the amazing skill she possesses to make Ash sneeze on command from a distance.

Conway

One word: nonce.

A clichéd weirdo fitting into Pokémon's Four-Eyed Freaks fixation, where anyone with a slight visual impairment is a weedy, know-it-all bastard or on a register.

Oh yes, and this lad comes with hidden delights, because his glasses gleam like a giant cockroach, just in case he wasn't creepy enough.

Zoey

The human black hole. Has the incredible ability to suck all the joy out of a room just by appearing. A personage of absolute lead.

Too nice and over familiar, lacking a single detectable personality trait.

Bland, empty, and with the charisma of vomit-sodden cardboard.

Sinnoh is a prolonged saga as it is, padded with nonentities like her and Kenny.

Alright, episodes must be devoted to Dawn's Contest career, however tiresome it is, but why exactly do we need any about Zoey and Kenny? Why should we care?

Every time I sat through a competition Dawn lost, I resented that she was no further along on her quest, equating to another episode eaten away by this shallow, blackened hymn to superficiality.

Compare this indulgent treatment to the sneering disrespect shown to Jessie, an actual main character, who not only had to win her Ribbons practically off screen, but the writers delighted in hammering home how worthless she was in only scraping into the Grand Festival because Princess Salvia took pity on the deluded wretch.

They favour their own inventions over the original cast, then dump 'em as soon as the next generation arrives, so how could they ever matter if even the creators eagerly cast them aside?

After all the effort on my part to put up with the entire witless farce, Zoey beats Dawn in the finals!

Why?!

I understood the unspoken law of Ash not being allowed to win a League until the very last series, for fear whatever came after would be anticlimactic, but why should this deadening failure apply to May and Dawn?

By the culmination of the Contest rigmarole, it's obvious they'll be making their exit for the next region's Girl, so why couldn't either bid farewell to the fans with a victory?

Why must they be incompetent too?

Even if achieving their dream dampened any hunger to carry on, they're departing anyway, so what difference does it make?

At least Ash will continue, but for May and Dawn, it's the end.

How could any fan be satisfied with a smarmy vacuum of a creature like Zoey succeeding instead?

Barry

Eyes of molten evil.

The second-worst character ever created (Iris is top of the ranks), Barry is a smug, arrogant, screeching dweeb jabbering his oh-so endearing catchphrase about fining anyone who slightly irks him, so sure is he that his feelings should come above everyone else's

He truly believes he has a God-given entitlement to demand lesser lifeforms should arrange themselves to suit his pleasure, that they are morally compelled to shield him from  meagre inconvenience.

Twat.

Knocking the little geck out of the League was the most noble thing Paul ever did. It practically redeems him.

This is what I cannot comprehend:

Ursula is openly conceited, rude to Dawn, and brags about her own excellence even after losing.

We're asked to dislike her.

Barry slags Ash off constantly, is convinced of his own divinity, and jeers at Team Rocket.

We're supposed to see him as a 'good guy' and welcome his arrival.

Why? Are Ash and Team Rocket fair game, but offending Saint Dawn's intolerable?

Again, it astounds me how temporary, region-specific stars seem to count for more than those who've been here since the beginning.

Whilst they're here, that is. Once gone, you wouldn't know they'd existed.

Kenny

He wears a matador outfit to compete.

It's a crying shame Tauros was never given the opportunity to gore him.

As usual, it's Piplup I blame.

Each generation likes to flaunt the starter Pokémon, presumably in the hope of flogging more games, that's why Ash usually catches all three, or they're spread out amongst his friends.

It's about time Team Rocket had one.

Can't do that, they only appear five times per series now.

Piplup is a whiny attention whore who refuses to evolve. In consequence, he can't advertise the next stages in the evolution chain, so we have to keep seeing Barry and Kenny instead, that's why Empoleon and Prinplup are always walking about.

This equates to three characters having the same Pokémon, albeit in different incarnations.

There's variety.

However, Kenny's true purpose is much more grim than that.

Fans will ship Ash with The Girl, a useless endeavour when it's destined to come to nothing when she's kicked out.

In Hoenn and Sinnoh, an effort was made to wean shippers off in preparation for the upcoming split, so alternative suitors were introduced, with the girls effectively pushed on to them.

May got Drew.

I don't mind that. He had some refinements.

Dawn got Kenny.

...

What, you want me to cheer for such a revolting couple?

Have I not suffered enough?

What unpardonable crime did Dawn do to deserve such a horrible fate?

She's not a bad-looking girl. She can do better than an ugly, portly, shrunken, pie-faced cretin! 

You do this to me when Nando exists?

Sod the age gap, that never concerned anyone here.

This being the Kenny who spends four years belittling Dawn by constantly reminding her of a humiliating childhood experience, even giving her a nickname too!

Dawn is visibly distressed when he does this, but he's a fine candidate for romance?

She has to settle for a sweaty, lecherous herbert like him, who doesn't even try to atone for his unfortunate mug by being kind?

I suspect the whole Sinnoh adventure was really him wearing down her self-esteem until she believed he was the best available, wanting her to be grateful for his slobbery attentions.

It won't stop there either. He'll trap her for the rest of her life by isolating her from friends, followed by accusations of how undeserving she is of his 'love'.

Such is Dawn's lot: absent father, pushy mother, whinging penguin and abusive boyfriend.

Kenny's already a perv:

He's not looking at her face.

She knows he's not.

Ash and Pikachu have noticed an interesting feature further down.

Aipom likes it too.