#oh the temptation to tag popular ships....

[needscaffeine]

i find it so interesting the way kpoppies will ship groupmates and act supportive of queer people and then ignore OnlyOneOf

like, if its about not liking the music, that's one thing. You're allowed to have your own opinions. It's when it's clear that theyre uncomfortable with sexuality being expressed.

It's not about their mature concepts either.

Because I know these aren't the same people streaming Red Lights (legit has bdsm in it, sorta) or listening to 3D (hopefully the alternate version) or even Bite Me... like i get it.

It's harder to fetishize something when you are confronted with the reality that this is something real people experience and you can't distance yourself from that. I get you.

Also, shout out to Holland because hes a sweetheart and deserves support and respect.

#being #oh the temptation to tag popular ships.... #bts #blackpink #aespa #stray kids #enhypen #ateez #onlyoneof #holland kpop #kpop #fuck it #minsung #woosan #seongjoong #taemin #just taemin #junrie #millnine #kyujung #minchan #2min #hyunlix #yungi #winter x karina #jungkook #no bts ships will be named cause i like my information private and fyi i am an army it's okay i know its not even most of us

[zorawitch]

20 Questions for fic writers!

I was graciously tagged by @two-hands-toward-the-sun. I love tag games so much and I love talking about myself so thank you so much!

I hate embedding links, so sorry to everyone about that. Everything should be linked in my pinned post at the moment.

How many works do you have on AO3?

I have eighteen right now! I used to have more but I get embarrassed about old writing really easily.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

150,934. Which is completely insane.

What fandoms do you write for?

Sandman mostly, but Doctor Who and A Song of Ice and Fire are in there too. Good Omens as well.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

"You Will Be The Death Of Me," which is my sole published ASOIAF fic, is first, followed by "Temptation" (my fic about The Nun), "Selfish Prayers," "You Were My Whole World...," and "For A Moment We Were Able To Be Still." I think it's part because a lot of my Sandman fics are reuploads but it's still very weird to me since I don't talk about either ASOIAF or The Nun on here at all.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! I grew up using Wattpad and the Wattpad comments section often feels like a battleground to see who can get the author's attention. When I switched to AO3 where writers answering comments is pretty commonplace, I stood amazed. If I haven't answered your comment, you were either too demanding of me (a one-time incident) or I'm waiting until I get like five comments so I can sit down and answer them all at once.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh, it's gotta be "My Ugly Organs (How Lucky We Are)." Partially because using Despair as a narrator means you get angst personified.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably "Is This Fun For You?" It doesn't make a lot of sense, but to me the resolution is pretty happy.

Do you get hate on fics?

Not usually? I have gotten some iffy comments and one person accusing me of appropriating Welsh culture. But nah usually people are kind.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes. I write a lot of smut. Mostly stuff with weird power dynamics.

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I've never written a crossover.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

If AI thievery counts, then yes. Never by a real person though.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Unfortunately no.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

The idea of doing so scares me. I find it antithetical to my method of writing.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

My apologies for being basic, but mountains will rise and fall and time will ravage the earth and I think it'll still be Aziracrow for me.

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have this Rhaenyra/Alicent Siren and Lighthouse Keeper AU that I've been working on since April and I keep delaying it to work on other stuff. It might happen. It might never happen.

What are your writing strengths?

Contrary to the popular stereotype of writers never writing, I will sit down and write nonstop for long periods of time. I usually spend at least an hour a night writing, and every time I sit down for a few minutes, I usually do a couple lines.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I am very weak with criticism and I often set out to write a scene with a certain destination and then I write myself into a corner.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I used to do it a lot, back in my Dracula fanfic days (I was thirteen, it was a bad time). I would want to be more confident in my Romanian and/or Spanish writing before I do it again though.

First fandom you wrote for?

Probably Warrior Cats when I was about ten. The first fic I published was for The School For Good And Evil, though. It was on Wattpad.

Favorite fic you’ve written?

It is "You Were My Whole World... (And You Were Up And Gone)," hands down. I periodically reread it because I love the concept so much and guys we need to be doing stuff with the first Despair's funeral. The entire concept is an angst factory.

Tagging @orion-the-starspinner and @ineffably-ryuu

#tag game #my fics #a.t. shrieking

[sithbian]

Tag 9 people you want to get to know better

Tagged by @deathstars :D thanks

3 ships: the temptation to not put anidala even tho im annoying about them on here (but it specifically has to be them as awful lesbians. the worst dykes ever). uhhhhhh oh no i was about to post and realized i didnt finish this. i like leiamara i think theyre neat. and sabedala.

1st ever ship: i honestly think its either gwen/heather from tdi, savannah/brooke from lps popular, or brittana from glee. i have always love mean girl lesbians.

Last song: all my ghosts by lizzy mcalpine

Last movie: i think it was hunger games mockingjay? we watched it in one of my classes and i dont watch movies often

Currently reading: . im still technically reading priory of the orange tree (i got halfway through and then school happened). i miss her i need to finish her

Currently watching: i dont think im watching any shows currently (mostly because when i start a show i usually dont finish it. rip to eaw, brba, clone wars--)

Currently consuming: just water :3

Currently craving: i would kill for some tiramisu rn. like yes its 10 am but tiramisu...

i realized just before posting this that i should actually tag people for once lol (except its gonna be like. 3) @certified-anakinfucker @minhhyung (legally i have to tag u in these things) @padmegirl

#tag meme #im also currently working on my last final rn and this is me slightly avoiding it

[liz-tries-to-write]

Sophitz Week: Academic Rivals

A/N: This is for this first prompt for Sophitz ship week! This is not my best work, my apologies, (I swear I’m actually a decent writer) but it’s a little something to help me out of my writer’s block. I might come back and expand on it if I get the chance!

Pairing: Sophie x Fitz

Word Count: ~800

TW: I don’t think there are any? lemme know if you want me to tag anything :)

“S-c-h-a-p-p-e... schappe,” Sophie spelled out. She stood on the stage, nervously playing with the hem of her skirt. Above her, a banner read “Foxfire’s 19th Annual Spelling Bee” in maroon letters. Across from her, in a competition chair of his own, stood a dark-haired boy with the prettiest eyes Sophie had ever seen. His lips were pursed in an obvious attempt at refraining from scowling as the announcer’s voice blared from the speakers.

“That is correct!” the MC, Bronte, boomed. “And with that, Sophie Foster officially wins Foxfire’s 19th Annual Spelling Bee.”

Sophie beamed as the crowd broke out into applause. She was scanning the audience for her parents when she heard a heavily-accented voice from behind her.

“Congratulations.” It was the boy from the finals round, his face flushed with adrenaline and a touch of annoyance. “That was impressive,” he told her, flashing her a smile.

Sophie felt her face heat up, trying to ignore the fact that he was even more attractive up close. “Thanks,” she mumbled, not quite meeting his teal eyes.

“Sophie, right? I’m Fitz, Fitz Vacker,” he said, extending one hand out. She took it, feeling her cheeks redden even more as she made contact with him. She had seen him around her high school. He was in a grade or two above her, and from what she could tell, he was popular. And she was pretty sure he modelled, too.

Not to mention.. “Wait- Fitz Vacker, as in four-year spelling bee champion?”

“That’d be me. I can’t lie, I’m a little vexed at being beaten, especially by a student younger than me, but congratulations nonetheless. I’m sure you’ll do a great job representing the school at nationals.” His tone was laidback, confident.

Sophie started. “Nationals?”

“Well, yeah,” he smiled. “You got first in the school, which means you’re going to nationals.”

“Oh,” was all Sophie had to say. She hadn’t really thought about what would happen if she got first place. Honestly, she didn’t think she was going to make it past the semi-finals round. Sophie had always been a natural at spelling; languages had always come easy to her. Once the school had found out, they had pressured her into partaking in the school’s spelling bee, and with some encouragement from her parents, Sophie had agreed to participate this year.

“Sophie!” a voice called out, startling her. She turned just in time to be enveloped in a hug by Grady. “Great job, Kiddo! I knew you could do it.”

She laughed. “Thanks, Dad.”

Next to her, Fitz coughed. “Fitz Vacker,” he informed Grady with a polite smile. “The competition who just got his ass handed to him by your daughter.”

Grady laughed. “It would appear so.” Before he could say anything else, Bronte appeared at his side.

Bronte, the MC of the spelling bee, was not unfamiliar to Sophie. He was also a part of the school board, and despite his small stature, he was intimidating.

“Congratulations, Miss Foster,” he said to Sophie, who blushed nervously in return. “In case you weren’t aware, you’ve qualified for the regional spelling bee, which means you’re competing with other nearby schools. It may seem early to be mentioning, but I assure you, you should already be practicing.” Bronte didn’t speak unkindly, but there was an attitude to his voice that put Sophie on edge. Upon noticing Fitz’s presence, he continued. “Actually, Mr. Vacker has done exceedingly well, and has made it to nationals himself several times. I’m sure he can help you.”

“Oh, uh, I-“ Sophie stammered.

“I’d love to,” Fitz replied with a charming smile. “I think Sophie could actually teach me a few things,” he said, throwing a glance Sophie’s way. “That is, if she’s okay with it.”

Sophie felt small under the stares of Grady, Bronte, and Fitz. “Um yeah, I guess so?” she replied, resisting the temptation to tug out an itchy eyelash.

“It’s settled then,” Bronte declared with a nod. “I’m sure the two of you can figure out a schedule that works for the both of you.” And with that, he turned on his heel and left.

Sophie knew her discomfort was obvious in the bright colour of her cheeks. Fitz Vacker, popular model and spelling bee champion, was going to help her train? “So, uh…” she started, looking towards Fitz. “You don’t have to help me, I’ll be fine on my own.”

Fitz smiled, something Sophie didn’t realize she liked until he did it again. “I’m sure that’s true, but I really don’t mind. Here, give me your number and we can talk later to figure out a schedule.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” she stammered. She hastily entered her name and number into his phone. “Okay, great! See you around?”

“Sounds great.” He smiled at her once more before disappearing into the crowd.

tag list: @dragonwinnie-kotlc @steppingonshatteredglass @sophitz-week @enbies-and-felonies

#sophitz week #kotlc ship weeks 2020 #fitzphie

[morganas-pendragons]

kiss me (for you’re all i ever wanted) | obi-wan

back by popular demand (seriously the amount of screaming you all did on the first part to this fic had me yelling) here’s part two of this fic - touch starved obi-wan - this got away from me i’m sorry (i’m really not)

anything in italics is either a. thoughts or b. talking across the bond (telepathically)

tag: @obiorbenkenobi​ // @dressed-up-heartbreak​ // @robertdownyjrs​

*** 

Force, what the kriff were you supposed to do now?! It wasn’t like you could just... walk into the quarters of another Jedi General and say, “Shall we continue what was going to be the hottest kiss of your life that was so rudely interrupted?” 

You silently pace the small length of your quarters, completely unaware of the fact that Ahsoka Tano is standing outside of your door and projecting the calm you seem to be unable to control at the moment. She’s extremely perceptive - one of the brightest of her class of apprentices - and has quite an eye for things that most people would be ignorant of. 

Case in point: Your very obvious attraction for Master Obi-Wan who had tried and failed spectacularly to hide how desperately he wanted to be with you. Here she’d been led to believe her grandmaster was the epitome of the perfect Jedi. 

Turns out he was just another hopeless fool in love. 

  “Master?” 

  “Force, Ahsoka- You can’t just sneak up on people like that!” 

Ahsoka frowns and motions to the door. “But.. oh, kriff it.” She jabbed her thumb back out into the hallway where you could just barely see the forms of clones rushing through The Negotiator. “You are aware of what just happened, right? It didn’t just slip from your mind?” 

  “Ahsoka-” 

  “Maker, you adults are thick.” She mutters. “Look.. the clones are retreating to their night duties which means this portion of the ship is mostly abandoned. Rex and Cody are keeping their vod occupied, Anakin is in the gym where I’m supposed to be meeting him, and Master Kenobi..” Your eyes snap back over to the young Togruta who beams the moment she realizes she caught your attention. “He’s in his quarters down the hall. Seems pretty wired. Would you-” 

  “I’ll check on him.” You reply and swiftly leave your quarters without so much as another glance back at the padawan. You do, however, see her little victory dance. 

True to her word, the clones are vacant from this part of the ship which leaves you lingering outside the door to Obi-Wan Kenobi’s quarter and wondering what on Earth you’re supposed to say when and if he opens the door. 

Your fingers hover over the keypad with the code on the forefront of your mind; That’s when you realize you might be the only person outside of Skywalker who knows the code into these quarters. 

The durasteel slides open with ease. On the floor sits a Jedi Master, hands poised against his knees and body set into the familiar meditation position. The sight of him so tranquil makes your blood boil. Is this what he does when he wants to forget how he asked you to kiss him? 

  “Obi-Wan.” 

No response. 

Pressing your lips together in a firm line, you shed your own robes by the hook next to the door and kneel down in front of him. Give his obvious ignorance to your presence you assume that he’s deep enough in meditation to notice you aren’t there. You can work with that. 

  “Obi-Wan..” Your voice echoes across your bond as your hands slide up his chest and smooth across his shoulders to remove the robes that hide his figure from your view. Warmth floods your cheeks as you catch the hitch in his breath, his body struggling to continue in his meditative state with the fire your hands ignite when they touch bare skin. “Kenobi... we have something to finish.” 

  “Force-” Blue eyes snap open and are blown wide when he realizes what you’re doing, and his hands very swiftly catch yours before you can continue. “What-What are you doing? You know better then to disrupt meditation when it’s in such a deep state!” 

  “It’s not like Skywalker hasn’t been interrupting you since he was nine.” You shoot back. “Anyway, why are you meditating? We just got back. Less then three hours ago. Meditation should be the last thing on your mind.” 

Unknown to you, you are the only thing on Obi-Wan’s mind. 

  “I was trying to calm myself. My actions on the ship were inappropriate-” 

  “No.” You snap. Your voice holds more anger then either of you realized you were feeling, and the sharpness of it makes him wince. “That might work with Anakin and Ahsoka. It might’ve worked with Satine. It does not work with me. You’re an open book. I know when the infamous Negotiator is lying to me. 

You can tell yourself until you believe it that you don’t want love. That you don’t want touch and you don’t want to be held. Here’s the truth of the matter, Obi-Wan. Despite The Code you seem to adhere to more then the majority of The Order, despite every instinct that fabricates the very essence of your being.. you’re a man. A man with a heart and who wants things. You said it yourself. You want me to touch you. So give into it.” 

You lean forward just enough to brush your lips against the shell of his ear, and you’re rewarded with a delightfully low groan that reverberates in the back of his throat as his hands find purchase against your hips. 

  “Give into your desires.” 

Cradling his face in your hands, you allow your legs to loosely wrap around his waist as he moves you right into his lap. The friction that creates alone is enough to make you blush. “Maker, please-” He breathes, low and hoarse against your mouth, as you hover only mere inches in front of him. “The temptation alone-” 

  “Obi-Wan.. what do you want?” You ask. 

  “You.” He says it so quickly that you know without a doubt it’s true. 

  “Then you have me.” 

There’s no one around to interrupt you now. 

Your hands make quick work of the tunic he often wears underneath his robes, deftly unlacing the knots that come together at the dip in his chest as he watches you through petrified blue eyes. It’s not hard to forget he’s never done this before. 

Fingertips trace over burn marks that are kept just out of sight beneath his neck line. You dip your head down just low enough to skim their ridges, and Obi-Wan goes slack in your embrace. 

  “Hero. Savior. Friend.” 

The Force is practically taunting him at this point. Here you sit in the darkness of his quarters, snugly pressed against his lap, your hands tracing his torso and your lips branding his skin. He’s pretty sure he’s entered the Cosmic Force. 

  “The Zygerians. My f-failure-” 

You shake your head. “Never.” You whisper. Your attention drifts back up to his eyes which remain blown despite the darkness that envelops you. “Not to me. Never to me.” Your eyes flicker between his own and his mouth as you move closer and closer and closer until you receive your prize, and The Force sings with praise at the motion. 

All the stars have aligned. Its chosen have come home to each other. 

You lightly rake your fingers through the beard that burns your hands as you move slowly, timidly, waiting for him to learn how to reciprocate before daring to go deeper. This isn’t about you. It’s about him. 

That’s when you feel it. His hands travel up your arms until they meet your nape and then his fingers thread into the knots of your hair, and you’re so awed by how easy he falls into you that you open your mouth wide to him, and Obi-Wan deepens the kiss. 

You forget how to breathe for a moment. 

Sh.. darling. I think I’ve taken you by surprise. His voice teases across your Bond as you pull away just enough to ease the heaving of your chest from the lack of breath. 

You did. 

Your fingertips trace the shape of his face. The sharpness of his cheeks that are hidden by thick auburn hair (let’s face it, he’s hotter with the beard), the outline of his nose, the shape of his eyes that flutter as he absorbs every touch you’ll give him. Your other hand is still spread out over his heart. It hasn’t moved. 

He wonders why. 

  “You overwork yourself.” You whisper. You almost sound sad about the fact he works himself to the bone and has for the entire war. “You take on more responsibilities then you should, you don’t sleep, I can barely get you to eat most of the time because your nose is buried in a data pad. Your vod are worried about you. I am worried about you. Let someone take care of you once, Obi-Wan.” 

His shoulders fall in defeat. 

  “Okay.” He whispers in reply. “Okay. Okay.” 

You hum beneath your breath and stand to your feet, extending your hand out to pull him with you. Obi-Wan complies without complaint and listens to the lull of your voice and how it feels like there’s a hidden Force suggestion in it. Just the sound alone is making his eyes heavy. 

  “Oh no. Not yet.” You lightly flick his shoulder as he sits on the cot and allows you to take his boots off. “You’re not going to sleep yet.” 

  “Didn’t you just say-” 

  “Oh no. That kiss you gave me was exquisite. Unfortunately, it means I now have to further test the waters.” You muse softly. He’s clearly confused and equally stunned by his own gasp when you flick your hand and the upper part of his torso is left bare to you. “Good. Now sit still, and keep quiet. You don’t want the boys to hear.” 

Hear what?

You part his legs just enough to settle yourself in his lap again. He’s leaning against the wall now, eyes narrowed as you bend your head to the column of his neck. His pulse is steady beneath your hand - amplified by his obvious fear - and you send a wave of calm across the Bond that makes his heartbeat slower. 

Your lips skim feverish skin until you find your mark - the one that makes his breath hitch when you touch it - and very, very slowly begin sucking on it. 

The way your core ignites at the groan he emits makes you dizzy. 

  “Force-Force-” He rasps through gritted teeth as his hands tighten on your hips so much you’re sure his fingers will leave imprints in your skin. “Maker-I-I-can’t-” 

Then your teeth drag across the mark, and he sees stars. 

 “Hm.” You somehow manage to start sucking harder and Obi-Wan is cursing in every language he’s fluent in to keep himself quiet. If you’d known that this was what it would take to get him to use that fabulous tongue of his- “The waters have been tested. You like hickies.” 

You pull away to examine your work. It stands out proudly against his skin. A mark that tells the people who see it that he belongs to someone. Sure.. you could theoretically use The Force to heal it.. but you don’t want to. You’re too smug about the sounds he made when you did. 

  “You know-” He rasps as you slip away before he can do anything, and Obi-Wan curses at how his limbs feel like they won’t sustain him. Kriff. “When-When I learn to do that, you will be the one getting tortured.” 

  “Oh, sure.” You retort as he lays on his side and opens his arms for you to lay in them. “How do you plan on doing that?” 

You’re so prideful that you don’t expect his next words,

  “Because I’ll mark you everywhere.” 

*** 

The next morning, Anakin and Ahsoka are standing at the end of the hall that hold the Generals Quarters. They both had a rather restful night sleep after practicing their hand to hand with the clones and their katas in the gym. You and Obi-Wan, however, did not. 

  “Okay Snips.” Anakin muses. “I’ll bet you fifty.” 

  “Fifty? Did you miss the part where I said I convinced her to go to his quarters?” 

The Jedi Knight laughs as his blue eyes flicker back down the hall where Obi-Wan exits his quarters and about two minutes later, your head pops out and you look up and down the hall to ensure no one saw you leave just after he did. 

  “No-” Ahsoka rasps, eyes bright with tears as she bends over in hysterical laughter. “You owe me a hundred credits and a dinner at Dex’s!” 

  “What the kark are you-” His eyes snap over to his former Master who is the definition of composed until Anakin sees the bright purple mark that’s just barely hidden underneath the fabric of his Jedi Robes. “Obi-Wan!” 

Rex, Cody and yourself stand by Ahsoka Tano as she once again lifts her data pad to record the altercation for future reference while following on the heels of her Master as The Hero With No Fear chases one of the most respectable Jedi in the Order all the way through The Negotiator. That is until Obi-Wan has the good sense to lock himself in a room where Anakin has no access. 

  “Kenobi, when I get this door open-”

  “Tell you what, ‘Soka.” You lightly bump hips with the Togruta and hold up your credit chit as Rex goes to calm his General. “When we get home, I’ll buy you dinner.” 

You buy her six. She likes to hear the gossip you have about her grandmaster. When you come home to The Temple and find Obi-Wan waiting for you in your quarters, he follows through on his promise of torture. 

He’s particularly skilled with his mouth, remember? 

#Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader #Obi-Wan x Reader #Star Wars imagines #Star Wars oneshots

[ryqoshay]

Tri-Arame: Take the Lead Right

Primary Pairing Trio: YuuAyuSetsu Words: ~1.4k Rating: T with my signature implied off camera M finish Time Frame: First year of college? Maybe second? Dunno yet Story Arc: Stand Alone

----------

Author’s Note: I really do intend to write some scenes for my other fics, honest. But a, I can’t help where my µ’s muse leads and b, I checked a few versions of the ship tag last time and found the results... lacking.

Also, the link to the inspiration for this scene will be in the followup post.

----------

“Mmm… that was so~ good…” Yuu leaned back and let out a content sigh. “Setsuna-chan and I are becoming a force to be reckoned with in the kitchen.” She grinned. “Maybe someday we’ll be as good as you, Ayumu.”

“I think you may already be there.” Ayumu said, raising her last bite as if to toast the idea.

Setsuna shook her head. “No, I believe Ayumu-san is still the best cook among us.” She offered a smile to the blushing redhead before picking up her plate.

“I’ll take that.” Ayumu said, reaching over. “You two made dinner, so I’ll clean up.”

“You sure?” Yuu asked.

Ayumu nodded. “I should be done before the episode airs if one of you wants to set things up.” With that said, she stacked the three plates and moved everything over to the sink.

As she began washing, Ayumu couldn’t help glancing over regularly toward the others. She enjoyed watching Setsuna’s excitement as she unlocked Ayumu’s laptop and brought up the streaming site. It came as no surprise that a moment later, sounds from the previous episode started coming out of the speakers as the anime addicted girl skimmed through it for a review.

For her part, Yuu remained in her prior position. From there, she could see the screen, but like Ayumu, she seemed more content with watching Setsuna.

“Ne, do you think we have enough time to make tea?” Yuu suddenly asked after a few minutes.

“Probably.” Ayumu responded. “Want me to put on the kettle?

“I’ll get it.” The twin-tailed girl bounced up. “Anyone else want some?”

“Yes, please.” The redhead nodded.

“Setsuna-chan?” Yuu asked.

“Mm?” The raven-haired girl startled from her review session and looked up.

“Tea?”

“Oh, yes, sorry, yes, thank you, please.” Despite where her gaze was directed, her attention was obviously still on the show.

Yuu laughed lightly and moved to the kitchen to fill the kettle. Not long after, Ayumu finished with the dishes and headed back to the kotatsu. However, instead of taking her usual spot on her own side, she settled in directly next to the girl already there. For her part, Setsuna glanced over and offered a quick smile.

Once the tea was ready, Yuu brought it out to the table and sat down on the other side of Setsuna from Ayumu. It was almost perfectly timed as Setsuna was ready to switch tabs, refresh and begin streaming the newly uploaded episode. Finally settled, the trio, crowded comfortably together, began to watch.

As far as Ayumu was concerned, the anime in question was yet another high fantasy with powerful heroes, dastardly villains and a decidedly contrived romantic subplot. But Setsuna was utterly obsessed with it, having collected the entire manga set, several hard copies of popular doujinshi, a few posters and even figures of two main heroines. And Yuu was quite enthusiastic about the series as well, though nowhere near Setsuna’s level.

As such, it was more her girlfriends’ passion for the series that interested Ayumu than the anime itself, but she paid attention nonetheless so she could participate in the conversations that would inevitably follow the ending credits. Tonight’s episode was particularly important as it was the season finale.

And befitting of a season finale of such a series, the action was packed to the brim as the heroes confronted the villain. Still, despite the visual spectacle, Ayumu stole many glances over to her girlfriends to observe their riveted attention. But when the big bad was finally defeated and the storyline began to wrap up, Ayumu expected the other two to relax a little. Except they didn’t. Both Yuu and Setsuna continued to stare, almost unblinking at the screen.

Were they expecting something else to happ… Oh…

“Awww~…” Setsuna, unsurprisingly, was the one to vocalize her reaction as the protagonist confessed her feelings to the heroine who had fought by her side for so long.

The scene was a sweet and fitting culmination of everything that had happened between the them, but Ayumu couldn’t help feeling like things could have been handled better. Early development had felt awkward and forced and it had taken more than a couple episodes before Ayumu could agree the two had chemistry. It was quite different from the angelic doujin Setsuna loved so mu…

Eh?

Ayumu blinked as something soft pressed gently against her cheek. And as quickly and unexpectedly as it had come, it was gone. She turned her head just in time to catch Setsuna leaning over to peck a kiss on Yuu’s cheek as well. Then, with a blossoming blush, Setsuna settled back down and began fidgeting with the hem of her shorts.

Cute. By the gods was that cute. But… is Setsuna-chan really satisfied with just that much?

Ayumu was all too aware that Setsuna maintained a fear of pushing her desires onto others. It was why she refused to take any sort of official leadership role within their school idol club when it reformed, despite the other members respecting her knowledge concerning idols and regularly turning to her for advice. Ayumu assumed this was also why Setsuna seldom was the one to offer invites for her friends to join her in shopping for anime merchandise, even after the three of them had a fairly well-established tradition of going together. She would sooner go by herself than believe she was inconveniencing a friend with her own desires.

And while Setsuna had become fairly open with hugs and holding hands, this felt different. Very different. And Ayumu was more than a little intrigued. And she wished she could give voice to her thoughts and tell Setsuna that it was alright to desire such things from her girlfriends as they were more than willing to participate.

“Setsuna-chan.” Yuu broke the quite among them.

“Y-yes?” Setsuna sputtered in response. “Wh-what is it, Y…?” She was cutoff as Yuu leaned in and pressed her lips against hers.

Something twisted within Ayumu. Apparently, she wasn’t just intrigued…

“Hah…” Setsuna breathed as the two parted. Her head wobbled a bit as her expression became dazed.

Yuu chuckled. “If you want to take the lead, you should at least go that far.”

“R-right…” Setsuna pouted as her blush deepened.

More. Ayumu also wanted more than just a peck on the cheek, and more than that.

Of course, that would mean she would be the one taking the lead at this point. Ayumu understood Setsuna’s reluctance to push beyond where she had left off. And it didn’t help that Yuu had teased her about the times she had given in fully to her desires and done whatever had been necessary to satiate them.

But who could blame her for giving into the temptation provided by not just one, but two irresistible girlfriends? And now, tensions were obviously mounting among them, Setsuna was adorably flustered, and Yuu was sitting with a smirk that made Ayumu want to wipe it off her face with her lips. Of course, her desires would be boiling over at this point.

Oh, to heck with it. Let Yuu tease her later, she could be embarrassed then. If neither Yuu nor Setsuna were going to do anything else, Ayumu would.

Setsuna jumped with surprise as Ayumu placed her hand on her cheek and guided her into a kiss.

Yuu giggled. “Looks like Ayumu can go that far.”

Though the teasing was likely directed more at Setsuna, Ayumu felt the need to respond as she pulled away a little.

“But why only stop there, Yuu-chan?” The redhead murmured before trailing a few kisses across Setsuna’s cheek. She smiled as the raven-haired girl shivered when her teeth grazed her ear. “Why not go even farther?”

“That’s a good point.” The green-tipped girl conceded.

“Ayumu-san… Yuu-s-Ah!” Setsuna gasped as Yuu joined in.

As Ayumu made her way down Setsuna’s neck, she placed a hand on her shoulder and began to guide her down. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted that the credits were rolling for the anime stream and made a mental note to apologize to Setsuna for making her miss the last few minutes, as well as delaying the post-credit discussion.

As for that conversation, Setsuna could take the lead for it as that was one place where she excelled. And perhaps someday she might have the confidence to take the lead right in the trio’s current activities.

However, for the time being, Ayumu knew that if her desires were to be fully sated, she would have to be the one to forget her reservations and progress things. It wasn’t easy, but…

Setsuna whimpered.

Yuu moaned.

… or… perhaps maybe it was…

----------

Author’s Note Continued in Followup Post

#YuuAyuSetsu #Takasaki Yuu #Yuki Setsuna #Uehara Ayumu #Tri-Arame #Love Live Nijigasaki #fanfic

[whataboutthefish]

Tagged by: @kaermorons

Name(s): Fish/Fishie

Fandom(s): witcher, hannibal, kingsman on occiasion. ummm oh Spideypool, some Marvel, honestly give me a little nudge and i’ll ship anything, Mandalorian

Where you post: AO3

Most popular oneshot by kudos: Masked Protection - which still baffles me, cause i came from spn fandom to hannibal posted this unbeta’d mess and it took off. I have whole ass fics i spent months over then have little to no love. anyway this certainly made me get over needed a beta

Most popular multichapter by kudos: Like Fine Wine my Vesemir fucks fic I released before everyone caught on to the sheer beauty that is Daddy Ves. yes i’ll say this here I was the first. but anyway I need to get back to this beauty. i love everything about it. it has something for everyone, A/b/o, daddy kink, service tops, alpha on alpha action and a delicious omega that wants the pack as his own.

Favorite story you’ve written so far: This is hard because there are two. 1) A Life half Lived is a Destiel mcd fic I wrote that has a place in my heart. it was a fic that kept me alive, that helped me process a lot of shit and then didn’t really get the love I thought it deserved. 2) is Wrapped in Your Arms creating Jaskier’s twin, Julian in an a/b/o verse has been amazing. I love those boys with my entire being and I can’t wait to keep writing for this.

Fic you were nervous to post: Catch me when I fall the third part in a series I wrote with @kaermorons and @anarchycox and I have never felt such pressure about posting something and living up to the amazing words those ladies made before me. I still don’t think I got it perfect and just hope to have done them proud.

How do you choose your titles?: A wild guess, a theme from the fic or song lyrics. It always makes me sweat!

Do you outline?: nope i’m a terror i let my muse move me, it can be a good and a bad thing.

Coming soon/not yet started: @grantairess are preparing to work together again, we are working on part two of Omega Temptation, and finishing Trust Fall and when we start working together you know delicious stuff will soon follow

Prompts?: I would love to have people hit me up with ideas and prompts. I ‘m not great at any time keeping and swift writing but I love when readers interact with me so much!

Upcoming work you’re most excited about: I’m so excited to be writing more on Twins and fine wine, but a wee Letho/Lambert (SNOLF) fic is poking my brain so that will be fun too!!!

Tagging: @grantairess @ambersagen and anyone else that sees this and wants in, consider yourself tagged

#tag memes

[tisfan]

Of all the Lord’s Creations

Title: Of All the Lord’s Creations Collaborator: @27dragons & @tisfan Link: AO3 Square Filled: B2 - Wing Kink Ship: Bucky/Tony Rating: E Major Tags: sin and temptation, angels AU, demons AU, a wide variety of semi-accurate christian mythology, and also some very inaccurate stuff, the authors are going to hell, angel!Bucky, demon!Tony, oral sex, frottage, tail and wing play, Gabriel’s kinda a dick Summary: Tony's pretty sure that corrupting an angel will get him back into Lucifer's good graces, and Bucky's gorgeous enough that seducing him won't even be a hardship. Bucky's on Earth to do good, which is what he was made for, but it's a little lonely. Surely it couldn't hurt just to *talk* to the fascinating demon that he happens to meet... Word Count: 11,457 Created for @mcukinkbingo

Tony was going to be in trouble soon, if he wasn’t already. In very hot water -- and in Tony’s case, that might be literal, if the Boss was peeved enough.

He’d lost his taste for partying and booze and drugs, and that was fine -- it was getting harder and harder to really corrupt someone with those anyway, and he’d landed a cushy gig inspiring weapons makers to newer and greater heights, destroying souls by the thousands, tens of thousands.

But it was so hands-off. So distasteful. He’d fallen down on that job, too.

And worst of all, he’d actually saved that child, the other week. So he had a soft spot for children. Sue him.

But it all added up to one thing: he had to earn some points with the Boss, and soon.

Pepper, his lesser demonic cohort (she refused to accept minion as her designation, and that was only fair really) consulted a clipboard. “I have it, Tony,” she said. “There’s a kid, out in Queens, he grows up to be a superhero; Clotho is all over that… We could corrupt him, that’d be… that’d be big. I mean, just think what a new supervillain on the scene would be worth.”

Tony glared at her. “Do I even know you?”

Pepper scowled. “Um, well, there’s that scandal,” she suggested. “The one we’ve all been sitting on, those letters for the potential saint, Margaret Carter? We could release those, put a real wrench in her canonization.”

“Ehhh. I don’t think they’re going to be enough to stop it. Just slow it down a little.”

“How about this, then--” Pepper thumbed through the Infernal News and Reports. “It’s a toughie. Maybe it’s just what you need, something to really sink your teeth into.”

Tony licked at his fangs. “Maybe. What’ve you got?”

“There’s an angel, on earth,” Pepper said. “He’s in trouble, halo’s a little bent. Gabriel’s dumped him in New York City, with instructions to do some major miracle work. But you know how angels are… lotta faith, very little street smarts.”

Tony sat up straight. “You’re shitting me. Seriously, an angel?” There hadn’t been a new Fallen in centuries. Corrupting an angel would cover Tony with glory. So to speak. “New York City, hm?” He grinned. “Now that. That is a worthy job. Get the relocation paperwork going, but keep it on the down-low. I don’t want anyone else muscling in before I get my turn.”

The problem with miracles is that they required faith. Faith, not proof.

There were a lot of things that Bucky could do… the loaves and fishes trick had always been popular.

Even though there wasn’t actually a food shortage on the planet these days. More like a supply problem, and it was beyond even Bucky’s ability to miracle his way through red tape.

So far, he’d been reduced to influencing luck. Which was, honestly, shitty miracle work. A homeless guy tripping over a winning lottery ticket didn’t praise or thank the Lord. In fact -- Bucky sighed -- they usually ended up in worse trouble.

Humans could only see him at all if they had high faith, or when he was in a human vessel. So, every morning, Bucky slipped into his vessel and tried to figure a way to get back into the Lord’s good Graces. Working at the soup kitchen wasn’t glamorous, but it did let him slip in some minor miracles; increasing the amount of soup, making what soups they did have more nourishing. A little healing touch, here and there. New York City had some of the nicest fall weather in a long time, letting the homeless stay warmer, longer.

It wasn’t much, but Bucky was still waiting for some Divine Inspiration.

If nothing else, earth was at least more interesting than Heaven. He didn’t much miss it, although he sometimes missed being able to talk to someone who actually knew who he was. Humans… didn’t listen. They just sort of waited for their turn to talk.

It was dark by the time Bucky left the soup kitchen, and as he crossed the street, a dark, slender figure detached itself from the alley wall. “Hey there, angelface.”

Bucky squinted into the darkness; the shadows seemed to cling to the stranger with loving hands. “The Lord be with you, friend,” Bucky said. It was a good, solid earth greeting. Those with no faith would rapidly make their excuses to be elsewhere, and those with faith would find a few moments with a comforting ear.

“I very much doubt it,” the stranger said as he took another step closer to Bucky. The shadows spread behind him like stretching wings. “Going my way?”

(more below the cut)

There was something about the stranger that sent a shiver down Bucky’s spine. He’d obviously been associating with humans too often if one could cause such a reaction. He took a step closer, trying to see the face behind the shadow. He couldn’t, which was odd. Absently, Bucky plucked his halo out of the pocket of the coat he wore; not like he got cold, but the pockets were useful.

To human eyes, Bucky would have merely run a hand through his hair. In truth, his halo was a bit lopsided, tilted at a rakish angle over his left eye, and pretty badly dinged up. It didn’t shine as much as it used to. Bucky blamed the Internet. Heaven was just so boring, and when he got caught sneaking down to earth from time to time -- he was almost current with Game of Thrones -- he got an angelic time out.

Seen with Heavenly light, the stranger’s face--

--was not at all human, under the human vessel he wore. The demon was beautiful, despite the shattered remains of his halo that made up what humans saw as horns, and the devastation of his wings. His face was angular and long, his beard trimmed into a neat, sharp point, his eyes deceptively warm and welcoming, his smile -- what else? -- wicked. “Ah, there you are,” he purred, and eyed Bucky’s halo and wings with a hungry expression. “That poor thing’s about to Fall,” he added. “You might want to have a friend ready to catch it.”

“I’m fine, thanks for your concern,” Bucky said, a little stiffly. It wasn’t his fault that Steve had been promoted years ago, and that Bucky didn’t really have any friends left. Steve tried to visit, as often as he could, but seraphim had busy schedules. He eyed the demon, curious. “I didn’t know they let your kind out of Hell.” He took a step closer, fascinated. The wings were short, stubby things that protruded out of the creature’s back, but he’d heard rumors that they had… oh, there it was, curled around the demon’s leg. A tail, long and as swift-moving as a cat’s. Bucky had a sudden urge to touch it.

“Aw, now, don’t be like that,” the demon said. “Of course they let me out. I’m Fallen, not damned.” He smiled again, charming and surprisingly sweet.

Bucky was a relatively young angel; the War had been long over before he’d come into existence. He’d never actually seen a Fallen, before, much less spoken to one. “Did it hurt,” Bucky wondered, “when you Fell?”

The demon laughed outright, and it didn’t sound evil or condescending, just... happy. “All right, you win that round,” he said after a moment, still chuckling around the words. “It’s been a long time since someone surprised me like that.” His head tipped, just a little, showing off a long throat. “Come and have a drink with me, angel. It gets lonely here, with only humans around.”

Well, Bucky could agree with that. It’d been a while since he’d had anyone to talk to. Gabriel totally didn’t count. The archangel just showed up to sneer and scold. Bucky wasn’t supposed to socialize with demons, but… he had to admit, he was curious. And Bucky was tough; of the line of Samael, who once wrestled a human during the entire night. He absolutely wasn’t afraid. “Do you have a name that I might call you?”

“Call me Tony,” said the demon. “And who are you?”

“Tony,” Bucky said, tasting the word, sounding it out, figuring the flavor and all the meanings. Layers of power, in a name. Except this one was obscured, the meaning lost. Bucky grappled for it, and it faded. He couldn’t hold it, there was no way for him to grip the name, to have any control over the demon. He was strong, then. Ancient. He hesitated over giving his own name, but it would be rude. And Bucky wasn’t scared of a demon. The Lord was on his side. Theoretically, at least. Bucky’d never actually met Him, either. “It’s Bucky. My… my name is Bucky.”

“Bucky.” Tony smiled. “So delighted to meet you, Bucky.” He tucked his arm through Bucky’s and gently tugged, leading the way up the street, toward a bar. “This will be the first proper conversation I’ve had since I got here.” He sounded thoroughly happy about it, and his tail... his tail was curling gently around Bucky’s calf.

“Oh!” Bucky shivered again, and… with a crack like a whip, his wings stretching out to their full span, involuntarily, the feathers spreading protectively. “Oh, that’s your… I’m sorry, I… you startled me.” Bucky’s skin felt strange, tingly, from where the tail had touched him, and then his neck got too warm, and his cheeks were heated, and his tongue felt a little too large for his mouth, awkward and thick. He fanned himself with his wings, cooling his overheated skin, and then pulling them in tight, folded against his back.

“Hm? Oh, sorry, gorgeous.” Tony grabbed his tail and dragged it away from Bucky with both hands. “It has a mind of its own, sometimes. Though I must say it’s got excellent taste.” Tony watched Bucky’s wings until they were folded away again, then tore his gaze up to Bucky’s face. “Let’s get that drink, shall we?” He pushed open the door to the bar.

It was dark inside, lit with low, neon lights and the occasional strobe from the dance floor. The music was loud, the place crowded. The crowds parted for Tony like the sea before Moses, though, until they wound up in a smaller, somewhat quieter space to one side, plush and luxurious. Tony folded onto the well-padded bench seat, and patted the space beside him invitingly.

It wasn’t hard to follow, the demon’s tail wasn’t the only interesting thing about the view from behind. Bucky found himself staring, and not even knowing why, just that the demon…

...represented the ultimate temptation.

Bucky would do well to remember that. He took the seat across from Tony, instead. Not that it was much better, their legs bumping under the table, and the demon’s mobile mouth drawing Bucky’s gaze instead. “How… have you been on earth, long?”

“It seems like forever,” Tony sighed. “How about you, Bucky? I understand you’re fairly new here.”

“Well, I used to sneak down, sometimes, too,” Bucky admitted. “So… two weeks, plus an hour here and there. Usually to watch television.” He couldn’t help the shy smile that crossed his lips. The very few conversations he’d had that humans responded to favorably, had been about shows. “Some of the older angels, they have access to human entertainment, but… our guardian doesn’t allow it. It’s bad for us, keeps our thoughts away from the Lord.” Bucky puffed out a breath, absently grabbed hold of his pinion feathers and ran his fingers over them. A nervous habit.

“Oh, I knew you’d be good to talk to,” Tony said. “I love TV, and we don’t get most of it, you know, Downstairs. What shows do you like?”

“Oh, anything with old-fashioned fighting,” Bucky said, dreamily. “Swords and massive armies and honor. Humans don’t fight that way, anymore. It’s a shame, really.” Of course, that wasn’t the only reason he watched those shows; humans were so… very physical, both in love and in war.

Bucky found himself leaning across the table, as the night went on. Drinks were brought, consumed, paid for. Tony talked, and listened. He shared insights, and his sense of humor was delightfully wicked, pointedly observant, and he was quick with a clever phrase. Bucky wasn’t even sure that he noticed when Tony’s tail had stopped playfully teasing at Bucky’s calf and was, instead, laying in Bucky’s lap, letting itself be petted like a cat.

He barely noticed the passing of time at all, until the bar started to close down, and they were given the same speech as the rest of the humans that is was time to leave.

“Well,” Bucky said, as they staggered out onto the street, human vessels dizzy with alcohol, “this was… educational.”

“It was marvelous,” Tony enthused. “Thank you so much for spending the evening with me.” He hesitated. “I wonder if I could... well, it’s a silly thing, really, but it would mean a lot to me.”

“Hmm? What’s that?” The stars were spinning in the sky. Bucky could focus on an individual star, far away, and see the planets that went around it. Fascinating. “I’m listening, go on.”

Tony smiled a self-deprecating little smile. “Could I just... touch your wings? I miss mine so much.”

“What? Oh… yeah, I… sure,” Bucky stammered. No one touched wings, it just… wasn’t done. Sometimes, Bucky couldn’t help it, in a crowded area, it was hard to avoid brushing another angel’s wings, but it wasn’t a deliberate act. It was almost like touching someone’s halo, the very symbol of their relationship with the Lord.

But he’d been petting Tony’s tail all night and it seemed somehow… snobby, almost priggish, not to allow him the liberty.

Bucky spread, his wings unfolding gently. As dark as it was, now, they gave off their own, soft light. A little hop up, and the Grace took hold. Bucky hovered, a few inches over the ground, toes pointing down and all the weight of the human vessel falling away.

Tony just stared up at him for a long minute, his eyes liquid and wide. “You really are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured. He stepped forward until his body was all but pressed against Bucky’s, and he looked up into Bucky’s face as he reached over Bucky’s shoulders to lightly caress the thick feathers. “Oh, that feels...”

He’d never felt anything like it; each stroke of Tony’s fingers sent spirals of sensation down his wings, into his very flesh. Bucky reared back, startled at how… good it felt, how soft and how soothing, and yet, it burned in him, like fire. His wings arched out, shuddered all over, and then, instinctively, he mantled, pulling Tony in close and covering them both with the protective shell. Inside, drenched in the holy light of Bucky’s wings, in the perfect Grace of his halo, Tony was the most beautiful thing Bucky had ever seen.

“Oh! Oh!” Bucky wasn’t sure what to do, everything seemed very… awkward.

Tony’s tail ruffled the feathers enclosing them, and that sent delicious sparks through Bucky’s body. “Bucky,” Tony murmured, “let me kiss you?” He lifted up onto his toes, his head tipped back, until his breath spilled over Bucky’s lips. Bucky wanted, wanted something that he couldn’t name, but Tony was hesitating, waiting.

“I don’t… I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” Bucky whispered. But surrounded by the heat and scent of the demon, Bucky couldn’t remember why it was a bad idea. It certainly sounded interesting. His mouth tingled, and he licked his lip. He remembered watching dozens of kisses on television, each time he would pluck at his pinions and shiver with delight. They seemed to enjoy it, so much. And Bucky had rarely so much as touched another angel. Sometimes, very close friends would touch fingertips or palms and even that seemed… greatly daring. Angels didn’t have bodies, except to serve the Lord.

Well, if his body’s purpose was only to serve the Lord, maybe this would be the way, Bucky thought, suddenly. “Yes, why don’t you do that,” he suggested. “Kiss me.”

Tony’s mouth touched Bucky’s, and it wasn’t at all like he had imagined, watching humans kiss on the television. It was so much more, the gentle brush of skin on skin and the warmth of Tony’s breath and the scent of him and the taste, somehow, of the drinks they’d consumed but also something more, something indescribably sweet and maybe a little sad. Oh, and Tony’s hands were still in Bucky’s wings, deeper now, curling around the shafts and stroking them.

Bucky didn’t know what to do, he really did not, and it was so good, and so wicked, and Gabriel would be so angry, and… Bucky wrenched his mouth away, panting for breath, wings shuddering all over, and his halo was glowing. “Tony, wait, no,” Bucky said, and he tried to back up, but Tony’s hands were still on him and he didn’t want to hurt Tony, didn’t want to… didn’t really want to stop, but he should. He really, really should. Resolve wavered in him, and then solidified. “Tony, wait, I need… I need you to stop.”

Tony didn’t stop for a few seconds longer, and then he pulled away, looking hurt and confused. “What’s wrong? Did it-- did I hurt you?”

“No, no, it didn’t hurt,” Bucky reassured him, hastily, and he realized he was still holding Tony in, wings still sheltering them both. “You didn’t hurt me. I’m… you… I…” He pulled his wings back, slowly. Let himself touch the ground, and all the weight and burden that came with it, drawing up his human vessel and letting the light from his halo flicker, putting it back in his pocket. “This… this isn’t what I came to earth to do. Not… I’m an angel. This… you… I’m here to help people.” He couldn’t help it, brushed the very tip of his wing down the side of Tony’s face before he tucked it away.

“There’s no one here who needs help right now,” Tony said, swaying toward Bucky. Then his eyes widened. “It’s because I’m Fallen, isn’t it?” His tail snapped back, away from where it had been curling up the side of Bucky’s leg again. “I must be repulsive to you.”

“No, no,” Bucky protested. “You’re not. I promise. You’re so… lovely. Interesting.” Bucky found himself twisting his feathers again, hard enough to hurt, hard enough to bend the delicate vanes. He squeaked, let go of his wing and patted at it, soothingly. “It’s me, I’m… this.” It’s wrong, it’s sin, it’s… selfish. Bucky berated himself. “I need to go. This was… incredible. I’ll treasure… I have to go.”

Bucky gripped his halo and willed himself to the small sanctuary he’d claimed, holy ground. Home. An abandoned church that had never been deconsecrated. Where he could rest and hide. And pray.

Even if he didn’t know what he was praying for.    

Tony made his way back to the bar, long closed now, and made himself at home in the VIP lounge. So much sin in this place -- lust and greed and intemperance and pride. Occasional splashes of hatred and disobedience and idolatry, for flavor. It was such a delicious place.

And Tony’d had such a wonderful evening. He’d lured the angel as far as a kiss, already. The whole thing would barely take any time at all.

Bucky. Such a sweet name, such a trusting creature to give it to an old demon like Tony. It was a name that tasted of strength, and of youth. Bucky was too young to have known the War -- did it hurt, indeed!

Sweet, naive creature. He’d even let Tony touch his feathers -- bittersweet, that; he hadn’t lied about missing his own wings. Tony could almost feel bad for what he was going to do to the angel. Almost.

The next night, he made his way through the shadows to the building where Bucky worked his small miracles. Tony wondered if those miracles had stuttered, when Bucky thought about Tony’s lips on his.

Bucky was late coming out, later than before, and Tony smiled, imagining Bucky debating whether he should emerge at all. Whether he hoped to see Tony again, or dreaded it. Tony waited patiently for the inevitable.

When Bucky finally came out, Tony stepped into his path. “Angel.”

Tony had seen Bucky in all his glory and grace -- well, the human version. Some angels could become wheels within wheels, the size of buildings in their magnificence, but Bucky didn’t seem like that sort. And yet, he was utterly unprepared for the young angel to smile at him. Bucky’s whole face lit up, not a holy glow, or even the mysterious angelic phosphorus of Bucky’s wings, but just… joy. There wasn’t an ounce of deception in the celestial nature, so he couldn’t be lying, even with something as simple as a smile.

Bucky was, quite honestly, happy to see him.

“Tony,” Bucky exclaimed, and held out his hands in a greeting, inviting Tony to touch his palm.

It wasn’t a kiss, but it was fairly intimate, for angels -- a gesture for kin and close friends. Equals. Tony touched his palm to Bucky’s in the ancient greeting, then curled his fingers around Bucky’s, squeezing a little. “I’m glad to see you, Bucky.” Tony couldn’t control an angel with their name the way he could a human, but it still set up a resonance that Bucky would feel, each time Tony said it.

“I am gladdened to see you, too,” Bucky said. “It’s been a very exciting day. I might have overdone it a little. Come on, let’s go, before anyone else sees me.” He laughed, light and pleasant and actually bumped Tony’s shoulder with his own, the edges of his wing brushing against Tony’s neck and side. “There’s got to be something we can do, yes? I haven’t seen much of the city, really, and I’m just... excited. Oh!” He grabbed Tony’s hand and pulled him down a side road. “Reporter! Mustn’t get caught, you know. Faith, not proof. Can you fly?”

Tony couldn’t precisely fly, but he could be anywhere he wanted to be if he concentrated hard enough. “No,” he said, and let his lips pull into a teasing smile. “Are you going to carry me?”

“If you wish it,” Bucky said. He considered Tony for a long moment, hiding in the mouth of some filthy alley, and then, “here, turn ‘round, like… oh, these really look terribly painful, I’m so sorry.” Bucky brushed his fingers over the stumps of Tony’s wings. There was a surge of light and Tony felt an angel’s Grace touch him for the first time in centuries, millennia, since the War. “Hold on.”

To what?

Bucky slid his arms around Tony’s chest and lifted him. An angel in flight could only be seen by the purest of men, the most holy, the most faithful. Young children, sometimes. And cats. Who were entirely unimpressed with angels and demons alike.

Bucky’s Grace ached through Tony’s bones, but it was worth the pain to look down from an angel’s vantage again. To feel Bucky’s breath spilling over his head. To feel Bucky’s chest pressed against his back, even if it stretched Tony’s wing stumps unbearably. Pain was nothing new, but it had been millennia, aeons, since Tony had flown simply for the joy of it, and his eyes filled with tears at the simple beauty. It took him a moment to catch his breath. “Thank you,” he whispered, and it could be sincere and part of the seduction at the same time; it could.

Tony couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt true gratitude, unburdened by the weight of expectation or debt.

“Oh, look, there’s a good one,” Bucky said, and he swirled through the air until he deposited Tony on a cloud, light and fluffy and full of warmth. That was decidedly an angel’s trick, and nothing that Tony could have managed, making a solid landing place above the human world where they could look down and see, and yet remain concealed. Bucky laughed, spread his wings out and laid down on them like they were a blanket, staring up into the sky. “Don’t let go, you’ll fall.” He kept one hand outstretched for Tony to take. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, that was terribly rude of me to say. Please, forgive it.”

“I’m afraid I’m not in the forgiving business,” Tony said, but he grinned and winked as he said it so Bucky would know it was a joke. Even if it was also deadly serious. He kept hold of Bucky’s hand, and curled his tail around Bucky’s leg as well, for good measure. “You’re in a good mood today. Do angelic vessels not get hangovers?”

Bucky blushed, pretty and pink. “I Healed someone, today. I was… well, I was happy, and I touched her, and she could see. She looked up in my face and she Saw me. We had to call the… the little truck that comes, and she wanted me to come with her, to see the doctor. He thinks I shocked her, like a little tiny lightning bolt, and it pushed her nerves back into working order. I don’t know, humans are silly sometimes, in their quest for Answers. And then-- then someone heard about it, and he came down to the kitchen with a big check, and that’ll just do so much good, Tony, it’s very exciting!”

Tony stared at Bucky in shock. He’d tempted an angel into sin -- not much of it, but a little! -- and the next day the angel had done more good? Inspired more faith?

That was not what Tony had planned. Damn it (literally), if word of this got back Downstairs before Tony made good on his promise to corrupt Bucky, the Boss was going to be so pissed.

Okay. Okay. No panicking. This wasn’t unrecoverable. Tony could use this.

Bucky was still holding his hand, after all.

“Maybe kissing is good for you,” Tony said, keeping it light.

“Maybe,” Bucky agreed. He eyed Tony through long lashes. “I prayed about it, you know.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “Did you? And did you get an answer?”

“I did,” Bucky said. He rolled up onto his side, leaning on his elbow to stare lazily at Tony. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Do you want to know what He said?”

How long had it been since Tony had heard the Lord’s voice and known His Will? “Tell me.”

“He said I should always repay that which I owe,” Bucky said. He reached out, fingers trembling, and he touched Tony’s face. “You gave me a kiss. Should I give you one back?”

Tony laid back, letting Bucky lean over him. “I would like that,” he said honestly. Bucky’s kiss had been so sweet... And if the Lord was actually telling Bucky to kiss Tony back, then Tony would eat his own tail.

The first kiss Bucky gave him was not on his mouth, or his forehead, but instead, Bucky touched his lips to the palm of Tony’s hand, a sudden, searing agony of a kiss, so full of Grace that it burned Tony’s flesh. Like a Holy wafer, like blessed water, and yet, even in the middle of pain, it went right through him. It warmed every inch of him -- a demon, who’d been to Hell, who knew intimately the fires of Lucifer -- in ways that he’d never imagined. Like he’d been cold and not known it, like he’d been scared and was now protected. Like he’d been alone, and was now home.

When Bucky pulled away, Tony was gasping for breath, tears streaming from his eyes. “What... What was that?”

“Oh!” Bucky turned Tony’s palm. “I…” He ducked his chin a little, embarrased. “I told you, I’m overdoing it today.” Clear as sunlight, right in the middle of Tony’s palm, where Bucky’s lips had touched… was Bucky’s Name. Written in angelic script. It glowed, soft as starlight.

“What...” Tony touched the name with his own fingers, feeling the way it sparked and sizzled under his skin. Beelzebub’s left tit, this was getting out of hand. Tony needed to get this back on track, and fast. “Bucky,” he whispered, and watched the Name on his skin flash and glow. “How?”

“I… uh, I don’t know?” Bucky ran his fingertip over it. “I’m sorry, does it hurt? I didn’t… I won’t do it again.” He carefully, tenderly, folded Tony’s fingers closed, like a mother giving a child a kiss to save. “I certainly won’t do it to your face, I like your face just the way it is.” And he leaned in to kiss Tony’s mouth.

For a long, sweet moment, it was nothing but pressure, warm and willing, but unlearned. Bucky let out a faint breath, and then his tongue slid out, traced the crease of Tony’s mouth with timid, but eager licks. Tony had kissed more humans than he could conveniently count, and more than a  good sized number of the Fallen. And he was discovering that they were all nothing, by comparison. That a little baby peck from an angel who’d never so much as been touched before was reaching places inside Tony that he’d thought sealed and locked and gone and forgotten. Bucky hadn’t closed his eyes, as if he didn’t know he was supposed to, or if he was so fascinated by Tony that he didn’t want to, and there was a hunger in those brilliant blue eyes, the same color as storm clouds.

As if Bucky might Fall, for no other reason than to be with Tony. As if he needed something from Tony, something no one else could ever, ever give him. More precious than faith, more rare than Grace. Bucky needed him, wanted him, with a fervor that was… humbling.

Tony cupped Bucky’s face in one hand and kissed him again, slow and thorough, mapping Bucky’s mouth and giving in to the temptation to roll his body up against Bucky’s, to feel that strength, to test the depth of that desire.

Bucky made a soft, humming sound, licked at Tony’s mouth again, and then drew back to look at him. “What… what are we doing?” He didn’t seem angry, or afraid, just curious, and his fingers twitched out again, traced along Tony’s bottom lip, leaving tingles in their wake. Those fingers slid up the side of Tony’s face, and then hesitated, right over the edge of his hair, hovering near the jagged edges of Tony’s horns; the remains of his halo.

Tony tipped his head, stropping his horn against Bucky’s hand like a cat might, if a cat had horns. It ached a little; Tony’s horns were sensitive from a wound that couldn’t be healed. But it also felt good, that bright, singing sensation that was the constant presence of Bucky’s Grace. “We’re...” He paused, considering it. He didn’t want to frighten Bucky away again, or make Bucky angry. “We’re making love.” That’s what the humans called it, even when there was nothing as pure as love about it.

“We are?” The seemed to delight the angel and that soft, sweet smile grew even brighter. “I didn’t know. We’re… creating it?” Bucky quivered against him, like a bowstring pulled taut. “Will I be able to see it? Will you show it to me?” He was caressing Tony’s horns the whole time, as mindlessly and guilelessly as he’d patted Tony’s tail; the innocence of a creature that hadn’t yet learned that some things bite.

There, that was the permission Tony had wanted, the crack in the angel’s armor that would let Tony’s corruption in. That was what he had needed. He should feel triumphant, but all he could feel in the moment was a sense of awe, that Bucky would trust him so completely, chased with a hint of something like sorrow -- pity, that Bucky was going to learn such a hard lesson, so harshly.

Not enough to stop him, though. He put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and pushed gently until Bucky was laid back on those glorious wings again, and Tony was leaning over him. “I’ll show you,” he promised, and he kissed Bucky’s mouth, Bucky’s cheek and jaw, drawing on all his skill to read Bucky’s responses and react to them. If Bucky was going to Fall, then Tony would give him something worth remembering. “Don’t be afraid,” he murmured into Bucky’s ear, and licked the shell of it.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Bucky said. He leaned into Tony’s kiss with eagerness. “You won’t hurt me.” When Tony pulled back to gauge Bucky’s reactions, Bucky repeated the kisses, exploring Tony’s ear, nipping at the lobe, and letting his breath warm the damp skin. “You won’t hurt me.” His hands roamed aimlessly around, Tony’s shoulders, his back, along his throat; a blind man trying to discover the face of God. Each touch, so clearly innocent and unaware of the fire he was building, was like a gift.

That trust was searing itself into Tony’s skin with each soft touch. “No,” Tony agreed. “I won’t. I’m going to do the very opposite of that.” He nuzzled in to kiss Bucky’s throat, licking and nibbling gently, and stroked his hands over Bucky’s wings, tugging softly at the primaries and secondaries, ruffling through the smaller feathers, letting himself imagine how it would have felt, when his own wings had been whole.

Bucky shimmered under Tony’s hands, his human vessel dropping away to reveal the angel, unhidden and bright. The earth-style clothing melted away until all that was under Tony’s hands were billowing, white robes. A golden belt around his waist and a golden collar around his neck held them closed, gave his wings a whole back panel to spread through. Not that it mattered, an angel’s wings could only be held down by sin. It was the nature of things. Bucky mantled again, as Tony kissed his throat, tucking Tony into that safe, white shell.

Without the human mask, Bucky was even more beautiful, his Grace mirrored on a perfect face. Soft, full lips framed a glorious, eager smile. His eyes were the blue of stormclouds at sea, dusted at the corners with laugh lines, and fringed with thick lashes. Strong chin, sharp perfect cheekbones. A thousand master painters could have struggled for a thousand years and never created anything so beautiful. And yet, that same face turned in Tony’s direction and all Tony could see was the reflection of himself, in Bucky’s eyes.

Tony knew that Bucky could see through his human disguise, had already seen Tony’s demon shape, scarred and disfigured by the Fall. But it still took an act of will to drop his vessel and reveal himself, in the face of Bucky’s perfection. He pushed aside the masks and met Bucky’s gaze with stubborn pride. He had earned his scars and his blackened stumps. Let the angel look, if he would.

But Bucky’s eyes held no pity, only curiosity and warmth and burgeoning desire. Tony took a breath, and another. He put his hand on Bucky’s chest, over that robe, whiter than the cloud they rested on, and felt Bucky’s heart racing underneath. “You’re so beautiful,” Tony said, and let the wonder of it fill him. “Are you sure?”

“Only the Lord, or fools, are ever certain,” Bucky said.”You are as distant and beautiful as the stars, and as unique as a single snowflake, ephemeral in your perfection. How many angels would dance on the head of a pin? Only one, if you will dance with me. I am not certain. I am not sure. But I am willing, and I want this. Show me love, Tony.”

Tony laughed. “As you say, angel.” He kissed Bucky’s throat, around the edge of that collar, then unfastened it and set it aside, letting Bucky’s robes fall open to reveal his chest, muscled and smooth. Tony dragged his mouth over that skin, sweet and warm, licked and kissed and nipped and sucked until Bucky was arching into each touch.

Bucky squirmed and writhed, made soft, kitten noises in his throat. His hands opened and closed on Tony’s shoulders, sometimes stroking his skin, sometimes just holding on. “I don’t… I don’t…” he gasped. “Oh, Tony… I…” If Bucky was human, Tony would have said that his legs went ‘round Tony’s hips instinctively, but angels shouldn’t have those sorts of instincts. They didn’t mate like humans, and it was only in mockery and mimicry of humans that demons learned those things.

But Bucky was as pure in love and as eager in learning as he was in everything else. When Tony did something the angel liked, he knew it. The sounds Bucky made were incredible, needy and sweet. And when Tony did something specific, Bucky would mimic it, then try his own variations, to see if what Tony liked was different.

Bucky startled, when Tony shed his own clothes in a burst of fire, the rich scent of sulphur hanging in the air, the ash of cloth wafting away on the breeze. “Oh,” Bucky gasped. “That was… impressive.”

Bucky rolled them over until Tony was supported on nothing but the clouds and Bucky’s will. Terrifying, because if Bucky let him go, Tony would fall, and while demons couldn’t really be killed -- well, not by anything as mundane as gravity -- it would still hurt. He stared at Tony as if he’d never seen a naked man before, and perhaps he hadn’t. It wasn’t like an angel needed to take a shower, even if Tony had indulged in the luxury.

His hand went down Tony’s chest and stuttered over the scarring at his heart, where his Angelic Name and Power had been stripped from him, a clawed hole that had been covered with thick ropy scar tissue. It always ached, always hurt, just a little. But Bucky’s fingers didn’t shy away from the ugliness, didn’t even seem to register that it was ugly. He kept right on touching, as if Tony were somehow precious. “Lovely.” Down more, and then--”Am I allowed?” His palm was just over Tony’s cock, scant millimeters away. “Will you like it?”

“Yes,” Tony promised. “Please. Whatever... anything you want. You can’t hurt me.” A lie, that, but Bucky wouldn’t want to hurt him, and that was nearly the same thing. Tony had never let pain come between him and pleasure before. “You learn fast, Bucky.” What a glorious demon he would make.

Bucky’s fingers explored the length, from base to head, and then he laughed, delighted. “Oh, it moves! Not quite so much as your tail, but-- does it have a mind of its own, too?” Bucky kept stroking it, petting it. At the start of each stroke, he ran his thumb over Tony’s crown, smearing precome down, sending delicious, juddering sensation through Tony’s whole body.

Tony groaned. “Something like that,” he managed. He slid his tail up under Bucky’s robes, coiling higher and higher up Bucky’s thigh. “Going to let me return the favor, gorgeous?”

“You should always pay back what you owe,” Bucky said, almost primly, despite the wicked things he was doing to Tony’s cock. He curled his hand around it, squeezed, and then twisted, making Tony cry out with sudden pleasure, before rolling them over again, the cloud obligingly moving around underneath them, perfect support and cushion, and tucking his hands behind his head, as if waiting for Tony to get on with things.

Tony laughed again and settled himself into the vee of Bucky’s thighs. “This isn’t something to owe,” he said. “This is something to give, a gift.” He plucked at Bucky’s belt and let it fall away, let the robes drop open to reveal a body that made Tony’s mouth water at the sight. “But if you like, I will repay, with interest.” He slipped down and closed his mouth over Bucky’s cock, thick and long and dark with need. He had to stretch his jaw to take Bucky down to the root, but it was worth it to hear Bucky’s gasps and soft cries, to feel that perfect body trembling under him.

One of Bucky’s hands speared into Tony’s hair, then latched on to his horn, thumb stroking along it in time to Tony’s movements, like it was a handle. The other somehow found Tony’s tail, pulled at it once, which sent shivers directly up Tony’s spine, his hand warm against the surface, before retreating to caress the spaded tip. His wings arched around them, feathery ends tickling down Tony’s back and legs, seeming to touch him everywhere at once. “Oh, that… that feels… Tony, that feels so good!”

Tony hummed in approval. His tail was sensitive, almost as sensitive as his hands and cock. And the way Bucky touched his horns -- humans couldn’t touch them at all, and demons simply didn’t, but Bucky couldn’t know that. That indescribable pleasure-pain of Grace scraping against the remnants of Tony’s halo... He shuddered, and tried to take Bucky even deeper into his mouth, because if he pulled free, he was going to do something utterly undignified, like beg for more.

“Oh, oh, oh,” Bucky cried, each repetition going higher and more frantic, his body unable to remain still under the onslaught of sensation. “Tony, something’s happening!” And he bucked up, hips moving, piston sharp, against Tony. His hand tightened, almost unbearably, on Tony’s horn, before relaxing again and then-- Tony found his tail hauled straight up and Bucky was licking it frantically, sucking the spaded end into his mouth and playing it with his tongue, swallowing around it. He hummed, a quick patter of notes that sent vibrations shimmering up Tony’s spine.

Tony’s tail twitched, and he swallowed down around Bucky’s cock, pressing his tongue flat against the vein. With a more experienced partner, he might have stopped, drawing out the moment, but he couldn’t imagine doing anything like that with Bucky, not like this. Nothing could ever be more perfect than Bucky’s frantic desperation and confusion, and Tony wanted nothing more than to lead Bucky to climax, to see the shock and pleasure on the angel’s expression.

Bucky jerked, one last time, and then his Voice rang out, multiple chords, a sound absolutely unreproducible by a human throat, a beautiful alleluia that shook the sky and earth. The clouds scattered and it started raining down from nothingness, the moon brilliant enough to send rainbows scattering for a brief moment of meteorological miracles.

“Oh! Oh, Tony.” Bucky panted for breath, overwhelmed and shivering with reaction.

“There you go,” Tony soothed. He swallowed his mouthful -- of course Bucky tasted wonderful -- and crawled up to take Bucky into his arms. He petted the angel’s hair and shoulders and the join of his wings. “That’s it, just relax.” He eyed the rainbows mistrustfully -- the last thing he needed was for the Lord to butt in now.

Bucky cracked one eye open to give Tony a Look. “Don’t think I could get any more relaxed,” he pointed out, the sarcasm loaded, and unlike the angel’s normal, sweet, too-innocent tones. He stretched, displaying all his glorious skin, and then his hand travelled down Tony’s body again. “Will… that? Happen for you? Teach me, show me how to make love with you.”

Tony suppressed a scoff -- everyone knew that demons couldn’t love. Everyone except Bucky, it seemed. Tony curled his hand -- the one with Bucky’s Name branded into the palm -- around Bucky’s, wrapped their joined hands around his cock. “Like this.” He showed Bucky how to stroke, slow and then fast, rolling over the head to spread pre-come, making things slick and easy. “Just-- oh... yeah. Just like that.” Bucky was a very fast learner.

“Hold on to me,” Bucky told him, pulling Tony in closer, his breath warm against Tony’s neck as he moved his hand, drawing pleasure from the demon’s body. Reaching a fever pitch, Tony’s body was shuddering in Bucky’s arms, and then Bucky leaned down and licked Tony’s horn. No pain, only unimaginable pleasure, ripped through him, stunning him with its bright joy. “I have you, I’ve got you, my prayer. Give me your gift, love.”

Tony had never felt pleasure like this. It surged through his body, erasing the pain and anguish and uncertainty. Bucky’s attention and sweet words made him feel whole, however briefly. Cherished. Loved.

The tears that fell from Tony’s eyes were no less of a relief than the climax that rushed through him, healing and hot and perfect. “Bucky!” The angelic syllables tore out of his throat, echoed off the clouds, and shattered the starlight into fragments as Tony let go and fell into Bucky’s arms.

When Tony came back to himself, Bucky was still humming that glorious multichorded chorus, and wiping Tony’s chest with the corner of his robes. “You might be right,” he told Tony in all seriousness. “It’s a gift. I just cannot quite place who is giving, and who is receiving. A gift, that we give to each other.” He shifted his robes again, and Bucky’s halo slid from the pocket, a glimmering ring of gold against the clouds. “Pesky thing,” Bucky said to it, fondly. He lifted it, and then hung it on Tony’s horn. “Hold this a moment, would you?”  

Tony was so shocked he couldn’t even move for a long moment. An angel never touched another’s halo, never mind handed it over in a moment of -- what? Affectionate playfulness? And Tony was a demon. He could, in theory, do terrible things with a whole halo in his possession. “Bucky!”

“What?” Bucky finished cleaning Tony up and wrapped the spare bits of robe around him. “You know, well, of course you know, angels are the embodiment of the Lord’s love. I’m supposed to love everything that the Lord created. But I’ll tell you a secret,” he said, laughing eyes bright. “I think, of all the Lord’s creations, I love you best.”

You can’t, Tony wanted to say. You mustn’t. Because Tony was no fit vessel for love. He was a black hole, drinking in light and never returning it. He was Fallen, a demon. Surely the Lord’s mandate stopped short when it reached the gates of Hell.

He looked down at the Name shimmering under his skin, and said nothing. He just curled against Bucky’s side and felt Bucky’s wings cradling them, strong and secure and safe.

When Tony woke up, he found himself alone on a bench in the park, body slightly damp with dew. He was wearing clothes he didn’t recognize, mismatched, but concealing him. In one hand, he held a single, white feather.

The soup kitchen was a happy, busy place. The money was flowing in, the love and nutrition flowing out. Bucky had made a few suggestions in the director’s ear, and they were laying down the groundwork to buy an abandoned shopping mall and turn it into low rent and no rent housing, just outside the city. So much good was being done and Bucky was a part of it.

He had to keep damping down his glow. Even the director had commented on it, when he came in to begin the day’s work. “Looks like you had a good time last night,” she had teased.

“I did, thank you,” Bucky had said.

And now, Bucky was taking his turn at the soup line, filling bowls with thick stew, when time stopped.

Gabriel blew in the doors of the shelter, his silver trumpet already at his lips and the blast he sounded dropped a dozen pigeons dead in the streets, caused Mr. Hartwell to seize up, his heart strained. Children burst into tears, cats fled, dogs howled. The sky grew dark and ominous. Bucky dropped the soup ladle and found himself cringing against the wall as Gabriel’s boots rang against the floor.

Bucky didn’t know what the humans saw, a robber, perhaps, a drug-crazed maniac. A kidnapper, or terrorist.

But the director rushed forward, her face set with anger, and she wielded a kitchen knife threateningly against the Angel of Judgement. “Get away from him!”

“No!” Bucky threw himself between Gabriel and the director. “Leave her alone, she’s done no harm to you. I’ll come with you, just… leave them alone, Gabriel. They’re good people. They’re doing the Lord’s work.”

Gabriel looked past Bucky, through him, at the director. Weighing. Judging. Finally, he focused on Bucky and lifted his empty hand to point. “Outside, then.”

“Call an ambulance for Mr. Hartwell,” Bucky told the director, then kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. You… take care of everything here. Lord’s blessing on you.” He sealed that with his kiss; she would be protected, unless Gabriel wanted to take it up with the Lord. Terror and rage battled it out in his chest, nothing he should ever be feeling in the presence of an archangel.

He shed his human vessel as soon as he passed the threshold, vanishing from the human world. He went to Gabriel and supplicated himself, kneeling at Gabriel’s feet until his forehead touched the ground, reaching for the hem of Gabriel’s robes to kiss the fabric.

“What have you done?” Gabriel demanded. “I sent you here to repent.”

“Is this not good work?” Bucky asked, keeping his face down. “We are feeding near to five hundred people a day, getting ready to home nearly a thousand. It’s small, I know, but I’m only starting. I have brought hope, joy, faith, to at least a dozen or more.”

“And lost your own way so badly as to consort with demons!” snapped Gabriel.

“Tony is one of the Lord’s children, the same as you, or I,” Bucky said. He was petrified. Gabriel hated demons, hated them with a fervor that was unseemly in an angelic heart. Sometimes, Bucky wondered, if Gabriel didn’t hate Lucifer more than he loved the Lord. That was sinful, unworthy of Bucky to think it and he cowered closer to the ground, practically crawling. Debasing himself before one of the eldest.

“Hardly the same,” Gabriel growled. “And you have let it infect you with its lies, lain with it. The stench of Hell surrounds you like a cloud.”

“He didn’t lie,” Bucky protested. “He’s not an it, not a monster. Don’t speak about him like that!”

Thunder cracked. “How dare you? You defile your God-given body with that creature, and then dare to defy me?”

“He’s not a creature!” Bucky had never experienced righteousness. The purity of emotion that rose up on behalf of another, to defend and protect. But it grew inside him like a white ball of light until he was breaking at the seams from it. “Tony cares about me!” And the light exploded, blowing Gabriel right off his feet to tumble down the street, until the archangel was on the ground, staring up at Bucky with wide eyes.

It wasn’t until he was standing, proud and strong, over Gabriel, that Bucky realized what he’d done. Oh, oh, oh, no! He’d struck a superior, he’d raised his Grace against an archangel. That he’d knocked Gabriel down with the force of it said nothing, except that Gabriel could not have expected the blow.

Bucky went to his belly on the ground, agast. Horrified with himself. “I’m sorry, forgive me, forgive me, I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“Silence.” Gabriel rose to his feet, and a little beyond that, hovering over Bucky, wings outstretched in fury. “You teeter on the precipice, child of Samael. Have a care, or you will Fall. Or perhaps that is your intention.”

“I… just want to stay,” Bucky pleaded. “Finish the work. I’m doing good work. Let me stay, you’ll see.”

Gabriel was silent for a long while. It seemed years passed before he finally spoke again. “When our Lord allows me to sound the call to the Final Battle,” he said, his beautiful voice cold, “I will not hesitate to join the Host. I will lay down my trumpet and take up the sword, and I will destroy your precious Tony without a thought. And you as well, if you stand between us. Do you hear me, child?”

“Oh, Gabriel,” Bucky said, suddenly filled with sorrow. He stood, reached out for the elder. “When did you lose your Grace?”

Gabriel’s expression darkened, and the wind howled down the long-empty street. “Stay, if you will. Or Fall, if Lucifer will have you. But you are no longer welcome in Heaven.” He lifted his trumpet to his lips and blew a note that, if the humans could have heard it, surely would have destroyed them, rendered them into dust and ash. It pierced Bucky’s ears and heart and soul until he screamed and fell to his knees in pain and terror.

When it stopped and Bucky could see again, Gabriel was gone, and something... was wrong.

Bucky pulled his wings around him, cowering inside them. He reached his hand into his pocket, his fingers grasping for his halo.

A sharp spike of pain in his fingers and he pulled them out, full of dread. The golden blood of an angel dripped from his fingertips and the remnants of his shattered halo was held in his palm.

Bucky gave out a soft, agonized sob. “Father,” he cried out. “Why have You forsaken me?”

The sound sliced through Tony like a shockwave, more a feeling than a noise. He lifted his head sharply from his contemplation of the feather in his hand. He knew that instrument. He knew that note. If it continued much longer--

But it was gone. Tony slumped back against the park bench, heart pounding in fear and hope. It hadn’t stretched long enough to unmake an angel, though something had been destroyed. Tony wondered if he dared investigate.

He should feel more satisfaction. He had corrupted an angel; Bucky’s Fall was no doubt imminent. But that... only made him sad.

The ground at Tony’s feet heaved, like a large, angry mole was digging around under there, until the soil tore and Pepper clawed her way out. Tony preferred other, more dignified ways to travel, but he had to admit, Pepper’s method was quick. “Well, it sounds like someone’s having a bad morning,” she said, brushing dirt off her vessel in quick flicks of her hand. “We’re counting this as a win for the bad guys?”

“I guess so,” Tony admitted. He stuffed his hand into his pocket, feeling for the feather there.

“I have all the paperwork here,” Pepper said. “I need a drop of blood to process him into the middle circles. We can have him dragged, if he won’t sign. Make sure he knows it’s a slow climb, if we take him unwillingly. But if he comes with us, we can fast-track him. It’s been a while since you’ve had a new assistant. But I could really use some help, so well done, Tony-- Tony? Are you all right?”

“What? I’m... I guess.” Tony could feel every tiny ridge of the feather against his fingertips. “It’s just, he was so... So bright and hopeful and happy. He doesn’t deserve... this.”

Pepper waved a hand; she couldn’t actually conjure food and coffee, but there was probably some hipster across town suddenly missing their breakfast. It was one of her talents, and usually Tony enjoyed it, eating something meant for someone else. Literally taking candy from babies. “Since when have you cared about what they deserve?” Pepper asked. “Tony, this is a big win, here!”

Tony rounded on her. “It’s all about what they deserve, Pep! That’s the whole point! The whole system is explicitly set up to reward the worthy and punish the unworthy. And he doesn’t deserve this! He doesn’t deserve me.”

“What about what you deserve, Tony?” Pepper asked. “Right now, I think you deserve a doughnut and some espresso, because you’re just not yourself when you’re hungry. As far as the system goes, we’ve needed an overhaul of the system for years. It’s been on the agenda at every Diabolic Conference for the last ten generations at least. The act of buying indulgences has been on the books for so long, the really horrible sinners are getting a Fast Pass. Honestly, we’re not Walt Disney.”

“If only we had their numbers,” Tony muttered, almost by reflex, and then he shook himself. “Pepper, I can’t... I have to try to make this right.” He shoved the coffee and doughnut back into her hands and set off into the city as fast as his vessel’s legs would carry him.

Gabriel sure left his mark on a place; where his powers had touched the human world, there was destruction and chaos. Cops and SWAT teams lined the perimeter. A frantic woman described how a terrorist with a suicide bomb had come into the homeless shelter, and that their new, bravest employee, everyone loved him, and taken the man outside, and gently talked him down, until the man had gone mad and depressed the trigger.

She was sobbing as she told the story.

Ambulances were attending the injured.

Near the door, there was a crater, as if there really had been some explosion. A soft, barely there sound reached Tony’s ears. Muffled sobbing, as if so great that it was leaking through the Veil.

Tony shed his vessel -- the last thing he wanted was to deal with well-meaning but useless humans -- and swept through, a cold shiver of a wind for those crossing his path. It was physically hard to enter the crater; the echo of the note lingered there, painful static on Tony’s skin. He pushed through it anyway, because Bucky was there, kneeling at the center of the crater, wings curled protectively around himself as he sobbed.

Tony was surprised -- and relieved -- to see those wings still intact. There was some hope, then, that Tony hadn’t utterly destroyed him.

And no hope, really, that he would want to see Tony, not when Tony was the author of all this pain. But he was helpless to walk away. He stopped just outside of Bucky’s wingspan and watched for an endless moment. He couldn’t move, not until he realized that he was rubbing at the palm of his hand, thumb dragging back and forth across Bucky’s Name. Tony forced his hands to his side and air into his chest. “Bucky?”

“Tony!” Bucky cried out and for a moment, Tony wasn’t certain that he wasn’t being attacked, but Bucky tucked his face against Tony’s throat, using Tony’s strength to hold himself up. “Tony, Tony, Tony, he broke it! He broke it! Gabriel broke it!”

Tony almost staggered under the sudden weight, but managed to keep them upright. “I’m sorry,” he sighed. “What did he break?”

Bucky gulped down more tears, then opened his hand. Laying in the palm were three crescents, dull and black and pockmarked. “I only spoke the truth, and he shattered it,” Bucky wailed. There wasn’t even enough of Bucky’s halo left to form a decent pair of horns; they’d just be tiny spikes on either side of his head, no longer than an inch or two. Not enough to grant Bucky any demonic powers. He’d be a lesser imp, never capable of anything more than the strength of all celestial beings.  A foot soldier, sacrificed for a hill in the Last War.

Tony swallowed, hard. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’m so, so sorry. It’s my fault.” He reached out, then hesitated. Touching an angel’s halo or a demon’s horns was... Bucky had touched Tony’s horns. Bucky had looped his halo over Tony’s horns, and-- Tony brushed a finger along the curve of one short crescent. “I did this.”

“No, you didn’t,” Bucky said. He wiped his cheeks angrily, smearing tears across his perfect face. “Gabriel did it. Gabriel did it, punishment for me, for daring… for daring to care about a demon. Gabriel has harbored hatred in his heart. He has lost his Grace.”

Bucky sighed, slid the pieces of his halo back into his pocket. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. I’m not ashamed. I don’t regret anything I’ve done. The Lord has not judged me; Gabriel did.”

Because I tempted you. A new demon -- even if only an imp -- and news of Gabriel’s lost Grace would definitely bring Tony back into the Boss’ good books. At least for a while.

It wouldn’t even be that hard to convince Bucky to come with him, to finish Falling. To convince the angel that punishing the damned was still part of the Lord’s work. The words sprang easily to Tony’s tongue.

They tasted bitter, though. Tony found his hand in his pocket again, stroking the feather.

He took the feather out and looked at it. Angel feathers didn’t just fall out; they had to be removed. Not unlike...

“I can fix it,” Tony heard himself saying. “Give me the pieces. I can fix it.”

Bucky didn’t even ask; didn’t even hesitate. After everything that happened, Bucky still trusted Tony, implicitly and absolutely. A few slivers and a handful of what was practically dust. “I would do it again,” Bucky told him. “You’re not a monster. You’re not a thing. Gabriel had no right to say it.”

“I am absolutely a monster,” Tony said. “I am a terror in the dark. I tempt the good into sin, and sinners into damnation. But I am going to fix this. You are going Home.” He sat down there, in the center of the crater, and laid out the pieces of Bucky’s halo, every tiny sliver and speck of dust. It wasn’t enough, because of course it wasn’t, but that was all right, because Tony had his own pieces.

He didn’t look at Bucky, and he didn’t let himself think about the consequences. He grasped at his own horns and pulled.

It hurt. It hurt nearly as much as the Fall had hurt, nearly as much as losing his wings. He kept pulling. For Bucky.

At last, they came free, a pair of pitted black arcs. Tony laid them carefully next to Bucky’s pieces and measured. It would be enough, just. “I was a smith,” Tony said softly. “I built halos, before the War.” He summoned his fire -- it had been Holy fire, once upon a time, cleansing and shaping. Now it was profane, a balefyre that consumed and destroyed. But it obeyed his command, and he needed it to forge the pieces together.

He wiped blood from his face, running down out of his hair, out of the holes where his horns had been, and flung that into the fire, as well. If he was going to sacrifice his power and his standing and -- quite probably -- his existence to save the angel, then he might as well leave some of himself in the halo. Let some small piece of him return Home.

Time and space only existed when he wanted them to. He squeezed into the space between seconds, slipped into the molecules of matter, and pulled the pieces of the halo together. Bucky’s pieces joined to one another eagerly; they already knew each other. He expected it would be more difficult to join his own horns into the curve, but -- he had almost forgotten, again, Bucky hanging the halo against his horn. They knew each other. Tony tested the seams, and found it solid, if simple.

The fire licked away the black scarring, leaving a halo in its place, thinner than it had once been and more silver than gold, but true and whole. Tony released his fire and slid back into the world, and finally, allowed himself to look at Bucky again.

“What… what did you do?” Bucky was staring at him, eyes wide and awestruck. “Tony, what did you do?”

“I fixed it,” Tony said. “It just needed some parts.”

Bucky stretched out his hand. Tony thought he was reaching for the halo, but then, past it. “Tony-- oh, God’s glory, Tony… look what you did.” He touched something over Tony’s shoulder and a shock of sensation rippled down his skin and into his spine. “Tony… look at this.” He tugged, and it was reminiscent of someone pulling his tail, or… his wings?

Bucky drew the feathers over Tony’s shoulder. Not white, like an angel’s, but brilliant red and gold, like the very heart of his fires.

Tony’s throat closed, and he had to swallow around it. “I didn’t. That’s-- I didn’t do this.” He lifted a shaking hand to feel the feathers, soft coverts and stiff primaries. He stretched the wings out and they obeyed him, splaying wide. The muscles felt stiff, unused, but whole and strong. “How...?” He didn’t realize he was weeping until he looked at Bucky again and found Bucky’s face blurred.

“You… you’re Forgiven, Tony,” Bucky said, and he gently took the halo out of Tony’s hands and set it over Tony’s head. It hovered there a moment, then settled, filling him with Grace. “You can go Home.” Bucky stepped back, to look at Tony in all his glory. “Of all God’s creations, you’re the one I love best. Go Home, Tony. Go Home. You deserve it.”

Home. He could go Home. He could resume his place at the forge, could bask in the Lord’s presence, could-- Never see Bucky again.

Tony took off the halo. “No. Not without you.”

“Tony--” Bucky fingers brushed over the halo, and Tony felt it, like an extension of himself, down his fingers and into his palm where Bucky’s name was etched on his skin. Bucky brushed his thumb over Tony’s temples, Healing the gaping wounds there, wiping the blood clean. “You sacrificed everything for me. You should… there’s not enough here, not for both of us. If you don’t… what will we do?”

Tony caught Bucky’s hand and lifted it to his lips. “There’s enough Grace between us to stay out of Hell. That’s all we need. With one halo between us, not quite all the way to being angels, but not Fallen, either. We can stay here. We can... we can do good. Here. We don’t need to be angels for that.”

“I told Gabriel you weren’t a monster,” Bucky said. He pulled himself closer to Tony, tilted his head, and claimed Tony’s mouth for a kiss. “Of all the Lord’s creations, I love you best.”

Tony pressed his mouth into Bucky’s palm, breathing into it the Name he had lost and now recovered. “I love you, Bucky. Into eternity, I love you.”

The Lord tilted His head to one side. “I’m surprised to see you, Luci. Do come in, have a seat. What can I do for you?”

Lucifer stalked in, tail whipping from side to side like an angry cat’s. “Don’t come over all inscrutable on me,” he growled. “And don’t try to tell me that you saw that coming. There’s no way you planned that. And now we’ve both lost!”

“Need I remind you that I work in mysterious ways?” The Lord waited until Lucifer was fuming, smoke pouring out of his ears. “I didn’t lose him. Bucky’s a good boy, if a touch rebellious. A bit too obsessed with the television. One might say I learned something, from the last time I had a spot of the mutinous to deal with.”

Lucifer huffed. His horns nearly formed a perfect circle, only a jagged crack between them. “And Tony is still an expert at temptation and mayhem, even if he’s got some soft spots. What do we do now?”

“Well, I’d like to offer amnesty -- there’s a demon in your employ who’s been bringing up some system overhauls. Yes, I have a spy in your midst, Luci, don’t give me that look. I know you have them, too. She has some interesting ideas. And this-- those boys? They may be our best hope for mending our fences.”

Lucifer looked startled. “Mending our fences?”

The Lord gazed at Lucifer, His eyes soft. “I did wrongly by you, Morningstar. Maybe it’s time for all of Us to let go Our old grudges and try to be a family again?” He offered His hand to Lucifer Morningstar, once the best and brightest of the angels.

Lucifer took the Lord’s hand gingerly, as if expecting it to burn. When it didn’t, he let out a soft breath and sank to one knee. “Thy will be done,” he murmured, “as always.”

“In the meanwhile… Gabriel has lost his Grace. Maybe you could take him under your wing?”

Lucifer was on his feet again, grin showing sharp teeth. “Has he, now? Well. He’s going to be stubborn about it, too, I expect. That’ll be fun.”

#mcukinkbingo #winteriron #tony x bucky #demons and angels AU #the authors are going to hell #and you're all coming with us

[dreamingbrownie]

Tagging games #6

I’ve been tagged by @fandom-glazed​ again, thank you! Tagging @bloodtroth​ if you haven’t already done this Music asks! FAVORITES 1. what are your favorite bands? Unheilig, Staubkind, Lord of the Lost, Within Temptation, Nightwish, Saltatio Mortis, Blutengel... A lot of german gothic-rock bands with scandinavian symphonic metal in the mix. 2. what are your favorite singers? Der Graf (the Count) of Unheilig, Floor Jansen of Nightwish, Louis of Staubkind, Sharon den Adel of Within Temptation, Scarlet Dorn... You see the pattern. xD 3. what are your favorite albums? Imaginaerum by Nightwish. Always, always, always. The old Unheilig albums Moderne Zeiten and Puppenspiel, Alles was ich bin by Staubkind, Resist by Within Temptation which just came out, but also The Unforgiving from a decade or so ago. Within Temptation were my entire early youth. 4. what are your favorite songs? That’s a mean question, it depends on the type of day and what I’m shipping the most at the moment. I adore The enemy by Oh Fyo, Cinderella by Scarlet Dorn has a special place in my heart, Große Freiheit by Unheilig will make me cry forever and always. 5. what do you think the best popular song of the year is so far? I’ve absolutely no idea of chart music. Pop music isn’t my tea. 6. which genres of music do you tend to like the best? Symphonic metal, gothic rock, hard rock, industrial, alternative in general... Heavy ballads can be really cool too. 7. what is the best concert you’ve ever been to? Staubkind, Cologne, 9.9.2016, Warm-Up for the big farewell concert of Unheilig the next day. Man, I was so done afterwards. Beautiful, wonderful, cried my eyes out, spoke with some of the bandmembers to thank them for everything, got to know people, stayed a friend’s of mine... I’ll never forget those days in September 2016. 8. song of the year? Morningstar by Blutengel. 9. album of the year? Un:Gott by Blutengel. xD 10. what are the best songs your parents have gotten you into? Alice Cooper’s Poison, Nothing else matters by Metallica... 80s rock. 11. how did you first find out about your favorite band/singer? Unheilig got huge in Germany in 2012, just through the radio I think. I found Lord of the Lost through their (then) label which had been the same as Staubkind still have, Within Temptation I discovered through Rhia Eisblume when I was 13 (deep, deep gothic sub-culture)...   12. when/where do you first remember having heard your favorite song? No idea anymore, honestly. I don’t have A Favourite Song, there’s just too uch wonderful music out there. 13. about how many times have you listened to your favorite song? Again, no single favourite, but as music is my life and I seldom stop listening to it, I’ve stopped counting. 14. if someone asks you what music they should check out, what are your go-to recommendations? Lord of the Lost, Nightwish, all of Tuomas Holopainen’s and Chris Harms’ side projects, Scarlet Dorn, Black Briar, 30 seconds to mars, Falloutboy, Panic at the disco... The list is kind of endless.

NOSTALGIA 15. what songs give you the most nostalgia? Nearly everything from Eisblume, Mother Earth, the solemn hour, Stand my ground, Pale, Angels and Memories from Within Temptation, Perfect Girl by Kim Wilde... 16. what kinds of music were you raised on? 80s rock on my fathers side, classical music on my mother’s, Mozart mostly. 17. what are your favorite songs that have ever been popular? Honestly, everything old from Nena, tbh, Hurricane by 30 seconds to mars 18. who were your favorite musicians as a kid? Rhia Eisblume, Sharon den Adel from Within Temptation, Nena. 19. how did you feel about music as a kid? I liked it, I guess, and listened to it a lot, especially as I grew up with classical music, but the emotional connections came in my early teens. 20. what was your first concert? If you haven’t been to one, what do you want your first concert to be? Schloss Salem (southern Germany), Unheilig, 24.7.2013.

PERFORMANCE 21. how do live performances, whether they’re from your friends or professionals, tend to make you feel? Like heaven on earth, another place entirely, something more, something greater than myself. Concerts have kept me up for the past six years emotionally and made me feel alive again during my depression. They’re endlessly important to me. Not many a year, but three or four over the course of a year. 22. singing in the shower or singing in the car? Neither 23. if you were to become a musician, what kind of musician would you be? Piano player. 24. if you could pick one instrument to learn how to play, what would it be? As I had to stop playing the piano at age 14 because I was supposed to do more for school, that. I miss it so much. 25. what is your singing voice like? what singers do you remind yourself of? I’m tld that I’ve got a good singing voice and I do love it, I’ve been in choir for five years and played on stage in two musicals during that time. 26. have you ever been involved in any music programs? which ones and for how long? The two aforementioned musicals Stagefever and Alice in Wonderland, choir, a singing contest in early grammar school. 27. which instruments do you know how to play? what’s your skill level? Uuuuh basically none 28. if you took music lessons as a kid, are you glad you did? if not, do you wish you had? Yes, Im glad I took piano lessons and I would have been much more stable mentally if that wouldnt have been taken from me as a ventile from school hell.

SOUNDTRACKS 29. How do you feel about video game soundtracks? Love them. They’re absolutely amazing these days. 30. What soundtracks do you enjoy listening to the most? Pirates of the Caribbean, Game of Thrones, Harry Potter, Fantastic Beasts, The Hobbit... 31. Which soundtracks do you think are objectively the best (or what are some that you think deserve appreciation)? Everything from Hans Zimmer, honestly. And the Game of Thrones score is simply amazing too. 32. How do you feel about musicals? Awesome! I’ve seen Tarzan, Aladdin, The Lion King and Kalif Stork (a turkish fairy tale) and loved all of them. 33. Do you have any favorite composers, including classical ones? Mozart, Tchaikovsky, Vivaldi, Wagner (don’t come at me, he’s heavy but sometimes I need Tristan and Isolde), Hans Zimmer, Ramin Djawadi. 34. Are there any soundtracks or kinds of soundtracks that you just can’t stand? Can’t think of any right now. I don’t like dubstep and rap, other than that, orchestra music is just amazing. 35. What are your favorite songs/soundtracks from movies? See 30.

LYRICS 36. what are some songs whose lyrics you relate to? Basically everything Staubkind ever did. 37. pick a song and analyse its lyrics. Star Sky by Two steps from hell. Here we are riding the sky Painting the night with sun. You and I mirrors of light twin flames of fire lit in aother time and space I knew your name I knew your face your love and grace Past and present now embrace Worlds collide in inner space Unstoppable the song we play Burn the page for me I cannot erase the time of sleep I cannot be loved so set me free I cannot deliver your love Or caress your soul so turn that page for me I cannot embrace the touch that you give I cannot find solice in your words I cannot deliver you your love or caress your soul Age to age I feel the call Memory of future dreams You and I, riding the sky Keeping the fire bright From another time and placeI know your name I know your face Your touch and grace All of time can not erase What our hearts remember stays Forever on a song we play Burn the page for me I cannot erase the time of sleep I cannot be loved so set me free I cannot deliver your love Or caress your soul so turn that page for me I cannot embrace the touch that you give I cannot find solice in your words I cannot deliver you your love or caress your soul. Okay, one word: GRINDELDORE! There’s a shipping video with young Albus and Gellert to that song too, absolutely brilliant. 38. which songs do you think have the best lyrics? The ones written from the heart, personal stories from the person writing the song, probably (please) the singer. 39. what are some songs whose lyrics you think most people just don’t get? The old Unhelig songs. The lyrics are very complicated and full of metaphors. 40. are there any musicians whose lyrics you particularly tend to like? Alligatoah, a german rap-singer.I adore his lyrics (critical of society in general) but the music isn’t my tea at all. 41. do you prefer songs that have good melodies or songs that have good lyrics? I need to love the music in order to like the song at all, nice lyrics just top it off.

CHALLENGES 42. name five songs you like that were released in the 90s. I’ve no idea of 90s music. 80s a bit, but 90s... uuuh nope. 43. name five songs you like that were released at least 50 years ago. Classical stuff, then. Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake, Nutcracker, Mozart’s Kleine Nachtmusik, Vivaldi’s spring, Wagner’s Tristan and Isolde, Händel’s Sarabande. 44. write a parody of at least a verse of any song you’d like. 45. name 5 songs you can’t stand. Despacito, The Lemon Tree, Blurred Lines, literally any rap song ever, Bach’s Passion of John. 46. look at your country’s song charts, listen to the first unfamiliar song you can find, and share your opinion on it. Uuuuh nope, nope, nope, nopedinope, go away, nope and nope again. Literally the only name I know is Ariana Grande and I don’t care about her, the rest is totally unfamiliar to me aaand not my tea at all. Sorry guys, if you like pop music, go for it all the way, it’s just not for me. 47. turn a song lyric into a pickup line. Come with me, I’ll come with you, La Bomba Come for me, I’ll come for you, La Bomba... #LotL 48. name the last 5 songs you listened to. Star Sky by Two teps from hell, We were divine by Lord of the Lost, I love the way you say my name, I’m Armageddon and Cinderella by Scarlet Dorn, La Bomba by Lord of the Lost right now.

RANDOM 49. what are your favorite album covers? Thornstar by Lord of the Lost is just wow, Chris Harms and his wife drew that and Un:Gott by Blutengel looks slightly similiar, I like both a lot. 50. any cover versions that you think are better than the original? Literally anything by Sam Tsui. 51. how often do you listen to music? Always. Except for university and sleeping and going out with friends, of course. 52. do you collect vinyls? if so, what have been your best finds? Nope. 53. if you could meet any musician you’d like, who would it be? Der Graf from Unheilig, he has retired two year ago and stopped doing autograph sessions in 2010 because he always served all his fans or none as he didn’t want to prioritise people. I respect him so incredibly much and I’d love to talk to him. 54. how do you feel about classical music? Love it, makes me nostalgic and calms me down, I study to classical music. 55. would you ever want to have a career in music? Nope. 56. if you had a stage name, what would it be? Uuuuh Alexandra something? No idea. 57. on a scale of 1 to 10, how important is music to you? 11? 58. how do you feel about rap music? Nopedinopenope 59. what do you think the best “era” for music was? The 80s must have been pretty rad, but nowadays, there’s also the possibility for everyone to find something they love. 60. how has music affected you as a person? It has changed my life forever, holds me up in difficult times, soothes my nerves, makes me breathe when nothing else is helping anymore. And I’ve got to know so many people through bands who are now dear friends of mine, I’d never in a lifetime miss that.  

#tagging games #tagging games part 6 #music asks

[trojanjean]

questions for ao3 writers

tagged by @meimagino, thank you dsgsfa !! <3 <3 

Tagging: @kumikirin and @rayraywrites ! i don’t actually know a lot of ao3 writers SO PLEASE DO THIS AND TAG ME? <3 i’ve LOVED reading other people doing this tag and it’s so exciting to know more abt your stuff so please please if u use ao3 and wanna do this, please let me know! <3

1. How did you come up with your username and what does it mean?

my username is seaworn. i didn’t want my ao3 username to be the same as my tumblr url because my tumblr url is pretty much always associated with a certain fandom and i didn’t want that because i had a feeling that i’m going to write something for different fandoms. seaworn is a word i came across in one of nightwish’s lyrics, “sea-worn driftwood”. i just thought that was nice, and everything sea-related is really close to my heart. 

2. Which fanfic of yours has the most feedback? (bookmarks/subscriptions/hits/kudos)

fingers crossed my obsession with you is tameable has most hits, kudos and bookmarks, but my heart’s a stereo (it beats for you so listen close) has most subscriptions (because it’s an ongoing series).

3. What is your AO3 profile icon, and why did you choose it?

it’s a picture of some random boy who i think looks a lot like my favourite trainwreck boy harry and i wanted it lmao 

4. Do you have any regular/favourite commenters?

 i get really warm and giddy if someone i know comments something on my fics because it means the world to me that my friends read my shit asdgdfs. but i also get warm and giddy and excited when i get any kinds of comments!! <3 i appreciate every single comment i get and i sometimes cry when i get an email notification about a comment someone left me asfsg <3 i notice a few “regulars” that always comment of my stories when i publish something new and i LOVE them and it means the world to me that someone has subscribed to me/checks out my page to see whether i’ve published smth new. but i ALSO love people who just leave kudos bc seeing that someone has actually read my stuff? amazing. i love every single one of you so much. i go through my comments and my kudos/hits whenever i’m feeling down/insecure and they give me so much confidence and make me feel better about everything

5. Is there a fanfic that you keep going back to read again and again?

oh yeah, i have plenty!! i mean, i have over 500 bookmarks and i go through them a lot to read many of my old favourites. i’m going to list a few i could remember without actually browsing through my bookmarks! :) they’re mostly drarry because i’m super into that again. also i really wanna scream about all of these but i’m just gonna link them and let them speak for themselves sdgdfsg 

Twingenuity by Caeseria. Viktuuri, explicit, 160k. summary: “Victor arrives in Hasetsu, completely unaware that Yuuri has an identical, overly affectionate, twin brother. The resulting temptation might actually kill him before he gets Yuuri to the GPF like he promised.”

Coffee, Cakes And Doorknob Snakes by Omi_Ohmy. drarry, explicit, 40k. summary: “Harry's house is trying to kill him, and only one person can help him: pity it's Draco Malfoy”

Eternally Consistent by kitsunealyc. drarry, explicit, 40k. summary: “Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter assumed they would never be anything but civil enemies, until Potter lands on Malfoy's doorstep, bleeding, covered in curses, and acting very strangely indeed.”

Reparations by Saras_Girl. drarry, explicit, 87k. summary: “Harry is about to discover that the steepest learning curve comes after Healer training, and that second chances can be found in unexpected places.”

Winter Song by proantagonist. viktuuri, explicit, 149k. summary: “The set of Yuuri’s mouth softened into a private smile as Victor squeezed his knee beneath the table. His hands were bare, free from the gloves he so often wore when they were together on the rink, and the heat of his palm burned straight through the denim of Yuuri’s jeans. He slipped his own hand beneath the table and found Victor’s. Hidden from sight, their fingers began to flirt and play. A secret conversation all their own that needed no words.

Yuuri was aware that at some point—a moment in time he couldn’t quite place—Victor had become his boyfriend.

There wasn’t a single instant when it happened. It was a slow awareness, as if Victor had silently been asking the question for months now, and Yuuri had been giving him the answer a little more with each passing day.”

i’d love to link everything i like but aSFASD!! just believe me when i say that with 500 bookmarks and having lots of writer friends in tumblr, i read a LOT of the same fics over and over and over again. the ones i mentioned just now are all longer stories i fell in love with because it took me days and maybe even weeks to read them and it’s like i’d found a whole new universe?? you can def ask me for fic recs because all i do is read fics but i found it really hard to just pick a few so i decided to pick just a few longer ones for this question!! but ask me for my favourite coffee shop aus? do it. favourit otayuri fics? ya please. fav modern au captive prince fics? you really should. 

6. How many stories are you subscribed to? How many do you have bookmarked?

i can’t see the number of my subscriptions anywhere? but i get maybe 3-10 email notifications every day about an updated work so i guess it’s a lot. i have a little over 500 bookmarks! :)) 

7. Which AU do you find yourself writing the most?

hmm, i maybe haven’t written enough to have, like, a special au i enjoy writing? but i DO think about coffee shop au’s and writing them a lot so i guess it’s that asfdsf. i just really really love coffee shops?? 

8. How many people are subscribed and bookmarked to you in total? (you can view this on the stats page)

274 subscriptions and 704 bookmarks holy sHIT hey i love every single one of you?? 

9. Is there something you’d like to write about but are afraid of people judging you for it? (Feeling brave? If so, share it!)

i have a bunch of really, really sad and depressing headcanons i would love to write but i’m probably never gonna? like, lots of things about eating disorders and cutting and someone getting injured or cheated on, someone losing an important person or having to give up on their dreams, etc. lots of sad characters trying to be brave on their own and slowly fading away :’’)) i don’t want to write then because i haven’t come up with any good endings for those and i DON’T want to write stuff with no happy ending, so. i just really think i need to get out all kinds of crap rn and writing them would make me feel better but i think i’m too involved to actually write something worth reading? i fear that if i wrote smth i’ve headcanoned, it would end up being super immature and illogical. idk. my point it that i’m afraid to write really self-indulgent, depressing angst sadgsghdf 

10. Is there anything you would like to be better at? Writing certain scenes or genres, replying to comments, updating better, etc.

i would love to be a little more consistent in writing. my concentration is bad and often i can’t get into the flow when i’m working on something. usually i add something to a wip every few days, then one day i write 1000 words and then continue editing sentences here and there, jumping from scene to scene, deleting smth and then adding 57 words. like...i often feel like i can’t get into the scene i’m writing and it feels like i’m watching it on the outside instead of being the writer? whenever i can focus properly i get solid, consistent, meaningful writing done, but honestly 80% of me doing anything is messing around and i have to do A LOT of damage control before everything is finished? 

this is related to what i just described but i’d also love to be able to write chronologically because i feel it makes the story and the journey more real when i’m actually working through what my characters are feeling/experiencing throughout the story? instead of writing an exciting plot thing A and an exciting plot thing number B and then later writing the boring parts inbetween. 

i have a lot of problems with plots in general - i feel it’s easier for me to write 2 k about, like, yuuri making tea in the morning, than writing 2k about someone walking to the store and buying milk. i’m better at describing moments and feelings than concrete plot points or someone dojng something? idk. 

11. Do you write rarepairs or popular ships more often?

popular ships. i mean, i might read rarepairs but i usually have one or two otp’s from each fandom i write about. i’d love to write about chrisabek one day though sgdfg. 

12. How many stories have you posted on AO3 to this day (finished and unfinished)?

18 ???? what how when has this happened?? .  13 of those are yoi and the rest either drarry or johnlock. 

13. How many stories do you have saved in/with your writing program?

18 published works and about....25-30 unfinished things? some over 10k words, some less than 500. also but i wrote A LOT of original shit when i was like 16-18 so if i count those in the number would be about 100 probably

14. Do you write down story ideas, or just keep them in your head?

i write them down potential ideas, but i have a lot of headcanons i don’t write down because i don’t think i have the ability to write them. but most of my ideas go to google docs/notes. 

15. Have you ever co-authored a story?

yeah, i actually have one wip going on with someone :) it’s unfinished but maybe we’ll finish it one day? it’s drarry and super sweet. 

16. How did you discover AO3?

i really can’t remember? i wish i could? but it probably in 2012 when i got into the sherlock fandom. 

17. Do you consider yourself to be a popular or famous author in your fandom(s) on AO3?

i don’t think so omg, but i’m really glad people read my stuff! but i’m definitely more known in the yoi fandom than the others i’m in bc my drarry/johnlock fics get like 5 comments, max, whereas i can get 20 comments to my yuri on ice stuff! :) it’s really nice that people read my stuff fhdh 

18. Do you have a nickname or fandom name for your readers?

omfg no but everyone who reads my stuff is an actual Angel  

19. Was there an author who inspired or encouraged you to write?

yeah, a lot! a lot of original fiction authors & a lot of fanfiction authors! whenever i read a good text i’m like “wow, this is awesome, i wish i could write this well” and that always gives me a huge boost. the support of my friends is really encouraging and inspiring, too. 

20. What writing advice would you give to a beginning author?

the “i will be a stronger writer after i finish this piece” is REALLY good advice, because...not everything you write will be the best you’ve done and you maybe feel like your writing has some flaws or something. but you know what? even if it’s not perfect, you’re a lot more experienced writer when you’ve done it. i do the “it’s gonna be shit anyway so i’m not gonna write it” thing quite often but then i have to remind myself that every single word i write gets me closer to being better, so i plunder through. and when i get finished with something, i usually think “well, this is not my strongest work but i’m glad i did it” and!!!! that’s really it!! i took part in otayuri reverse bang this spring and god i wanted to give up so so many times and i wrote lots of plots for it because i didn’t like ANYTHING i did. but i got through it, and while i think that the two stories i did for it are the worst i’ve written, it’s still 18 000 words more than i would have written if i hadn’t participated :) be your own biggest supporter & give yourself time to practise & be super proud and happy about what you’ve achieved so far!! <3 you wrote 10 words today? THAT’S 10 WORDS MORE THAN IT WAS BEFORE. you had a huge writer’s block so instead of writing you just wrote down some plot point you wanna write later? YOU PLANNED SOMETHING. you couldn’t even plan, you just opened your computer and gave up? YOU TRIED AND RESPECTED YOUR LIMITS TODAY AND THAT’S AMAZING. 

21. Do you plot out your stories, or do you just figure it out as you go?

i usually plan big plot points but figure everything else out as i go? planning in actually one of my weaknesses and instead of making a plan and sticking to it, i just wait for inspiration and get as much done as i can before it goes away, lol. 

22. Have you ever gotten a bad comment on a story? If so, what did you do?

not really :) everyone has been really sweet to me. 

23. Is there a certain type of scene that you have a hard time writing? (action, smut, etc..)

action scenes are pretty hard? i think i’m better at writing dialogue and feelings than action or something dramatic happening. i’m working on it and i would love to get more edge to my writing! 

24. What story(s) are you working on now?

i’m finishing the last part of my heart’s a radio (it beats for you so listen close). the chapter is what i intended to write in the first place (yuri and otabek seeing each other at world’s and getting it on in a hotel room) but then i just....needed to have 14 000 words of stuff before it, apparently. 

i’m also working on a drarry fic that has been in my drafts for a long time. it’s about 8k and i think it’s going to be 10-13k, and that’s fine. it’s all about margaritas and blowjobs and being hungover, basically. it’s really fun to write lol.

and then i have this captive prince smut one shot that’s also like half-done. it’s really fluffy and sappy but still just smut. 

aaaaalso i’m trying to finish the next chapter for my viktuuri dog sitter au fic now my heart stumbles on things i don’t know ! i’ve been procrastinating because i don’t really have a plot for it planned yet. 

25. Do you plan your next project(s) before you finish your current ongoing story(s)?

i have too many ideas in my head constantly and that makes it reaally hard to focus on finishing something before jumping onto something else. that’s why i have tons of wips and no finished works, lmao. 

26. Do you have a daily writing goal set for yourself?

not really. sometimes i try to push myself by setting goals, but in the end it really stresses me out because i’m usually away from home at least 9 hours every day and my work is really physical and tiring so asfsgas i really don’t have the strength to write every day. now my goal is to finish three fics before the year ends. they’re all oneshots that are maybe 80% done, so i should be able to do it. 

27. Do you think you’ve improved as a writer since you first started?

i hope so but i really don’t know?? 

28. What is your favorite story that you’ve written?

hmm. it’se been really fun writing i am to see to it that i do not lose you series because i’ve gotten a LOT of positive feedback along the way! and i’m not done with the series - i have a chrisviktuuri smut oneshot planned in this universe, happening at the same time when yuri’s figuring out how to date™. it was the first part of the series that made me think that maybe people actually enjoy my stuff & that encouraged me to write more!

I also really liked writing a oneshot i hust posted yesterday - listen how, under the breastbone, the rhythm changes . i wrote my first yuri on ice fic about a year ago and i just really wanted to return to that moment and write smth sweet about viktor and yuuri. the story has no plot or anything, but it felt REALLY good to write bc i sort of want and need a lot of soft things right now! 

also i’m having SO MUCH FUN with the drarry fic i haven’t posted yet, omg. 

29. What is your least favorite story that you’ve written?

hmm. probably cautiously peering, absorbing, translating hey eve stop with the pretentious fic names  because it was basically my first multichapter fic and i feel like it fell apart a little? i had to write it in less than a month bc it was part of otayuri reversebang. i felt like the idea was good and that it didn’t reach its full potential? i have very mixed feelings about this fic. i haven’t been able to read it even once after i published it bc i’m so afraid of what i’ll find lmao 

30. Where do you see yourself (as a writer) in 5 years?

hopefully my english is a lot better then, at least! i hope that i’ve started writing original fiction, really :) 

31. What is the easiest thing about writing?

coming up with ideas!!! i don’t even use most of the ideas hat get in my head and i get lots of new ideas especially when i’m at work, out doing shopping, basically doing anything active??  but writing everything down, especially ideas you know will get 20-30k long once you start...damn. 

32. What is the hardest thing about writing?

managing long stories? i haven’t written very many longer (like, over 10k?) stories and dgsgsg it’s just hard to make the plot interesting with lots of interesting cliffhangers, sad parts, etc? it’s hard to balance everything. 

and yeah writing just in general is hard because it’s at least 80% writer’s block but having ideas flood your head and making it hard to focus on real life sfsg

33. Why do you write?

to express myself, i think? i still haven’t learn how to process my more uglier emotions through writing (it would be really helpful if i could) but i’m definitely writing about the kind of things i miss and would like to have for myself - someone being really happy, having lots of quiet mornings, being loved, maybe being a trainwreck but having something to cope through it, having a special connection with someone. idk. all kinds of things.

writing is fun and actually writing down the fics you’d want to read is super duper cool. i don’t get very much done in my life otherwise, so writing gives me the feeling of accomplishment i’m not getting anywhere else. 

i’m not very good at expressing myself so writing definitely helps with that, too. 

#tagged #personal #writing #phew i promise to dial down with the fic names sdagsdhsag #i feel super shy posting this

[deepdarkwaters]

2016 WRITING YEAR REVIEW

@notbrogues tagged me!

Total Number of Stories Completed: 24 complete (although a bunch of these are just separate bits of the Bespoke universe), and 6 lingering WIPs.

Total Word Count: 133875, goddamn :O

Fandoms Written In: Code Name Verity - Elizabeth Wein Killers Kill; Dead Men Die - Annie Leibovitz Kingsman Night Watch - Sarah Waters RED The Carnival Is Over - The Seekers The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett Velvet Goldmine

Mostly Kingsman, the others were all for exchanges. I can only seem to focus on one main fandom at a time.

Looking Back, Did You Expect To Write More Fic Than You Thought You Would This Year, Less, Or About What You’d Expected? Less... I had all these plans to write less fic and more original stuff fpr publishing but NOPE I am helpless in fandom's iron grip.

What's Your Own Favorite Story Of The Year? I'm very fond of Ballerino... I highly recommend writing the most self-indulgent swoony trash your heart wants, because it's the most fun ever AND I think when you're gleefully enthusiastic about something then other people have fun with it as well.

Did You Take Any Writing Risks This Year? Bespoke, maybe...? I've been super passionate about OT3s before (received loads of Butch/Sundance/Etta treasure in fic exchanges, for example), but never really been invested on the writing side. It's a fascinating one to figure out.

But Smaychel is the best writing partner imaginable, so in that way it's not really a risk at all :-)

Do You Have Any Fanfic Or Profic Goals For The New Year? F I N I S H   M Y   W I P S I am so sorry I am the worst. I was so adamant on getting everything complete by the end of the year but it just didn't happen. Too many pretty ideas, never enough time! WIPs are the priority. I've got a stack of original short stories and another novel to finish as well, but honestly I'm just having way too much fun with fanfic to prioritise them (and nobody reads original stuff anyway).

Best Story Of The Year? Is this a different question to Favourite Story?

Most Popular Story Of The Year? Ballerino is my most popular story ever in any fandom in about eighteen years of posting fic, so... thank you?!

Story of Mine Most Under-appreciated By The Universe, IMO: This fandom does appreciation like no other :-) There’s always going to be smaller ships like Roxy/Merlin that fewer people are interested in but that’s cool, you know going into it that there won’t be as many readers for that stuff as for Harry/Eggsy.

Most Fun Story To Write: Ballerino probably because it's just everything I love thrown at a page. Fight scenes!!! White tie formalwear!!! Undressing people in white tie formalwear!!! Ballet!!! Bottom Harry!!! Phone sex!!! Kingsman agents’ banter!!! Gross old stalker licking the sweat off his victim!!!

Story With The Single Sexiest Moment: Viewer Discretion Is Advised (aka the Bespoke fic where Harry and Eggsy finally get together while Merlin instructs) was an interesting one. I was trying to challenge myself to write something smokin hot without it being about dicks, and it turned out to be one of my favourite things I've ever written mainly for this scene:

"Pick a place," Merlin tells him, "anywhere you like, but don't touch him."

Through Harry's glasses feed, Merlin sees Eggsy's eyes moving and knows exactly what he's seeing: scars on golden skin; soft ridges of retrained muscle; the glorious way Harry flushes when he knows he's about to get what he wants. "Here?" Eggsy asks, soft and uncertain. Merlin watches the boy's shaking fingertips hover an inch or two above Harry's collarbone.

"Very good." Merlin hears a quick intake of breath at that, a shaky exhale, and drops his voice to a low murmur just to see what happens. "Good boy, Eggsy."

"Fuck," Eggsy mutters, "oh my god, fuck," and stares straight at Harry, at Merlin through Harry. "Okay, what now?"

"Nothing," Merlin tells him, and watches Eggsy's eyebrows flicker in confusion. "Pick another place."

"Here?" Eggsy checks, sliding a little way down the bed to kneel between Harry's sprawled legs, pointing at the place just above his navel.

"Good choice." Eggsy looks vaguely disappointed at that; must have been hoping for a word other than 'choice'. Tease, Harry finger-spells at Merlin. "But don't touch him."

The camera feed dips when Eggsy nods his head. Merlin watches his fingers trace the line of soft hair leading down to Harry's pyjama trousers, never actually making contact. Eggsy's got his lower lip caught between his teeth as though he's concentrating, hand moving lower and hovering a hair's breadth above where Harry's cock is heavy, half-hard, wearing the taut silk of his pyjamas like a second skin.

"Hands up, Eggsy. Harry, turn over for me."

He watches Harry move in quarter turns, first onto his side and then stretching out languidly on his front like a spoiled cat begging to be petted. Not too far away from the truth, really.

"Pick another place."

"Here," Eggsy says immediately, gesturing to the dimples at the bottom of Harry's spine. His whole hand rests there for a moment, a centimetre of space between his skin and Harry's, then he lifts his wrist and starts drawing gentle little swirling patterns in the air with one single fingertip. "Fuck, I know it's probably in my head but I swear I can feel how warm he is from here."

Harry makes a soft little stunned sound at that, pressing his face into the pillow. Merlin knows how much it costs him not to lurch up into this kind of almost-touch; the time he kept it up for the entire length of The Fellowship of the Ring, Harry naked and draped across his lap on the sofa, Harry was begging by Rivendell and outright sobbing by Lothlórien, and came crying when Merlin finally ran a fingertip down his spine at the credits.

"You're doing beautifully. Both of you.

"Fuck," Eggsy murmurs again, sounding fascinated by the writhe and twist of Harry's back as he slowly starts to lose his mind.

It's almost half an hour before Harry finally says please.

"Don't touch him," Merlin says softly. Eggsy hesitates with his fingertips drawing spirals in the air just above Harry's scapula, head tilted slightly to one side as though he's waiting for more. "You mustn't let him have anything the first time he asks for it. Give him an inch and he'll take a mile, goes the saying."

"Yeah, I got six inches I wanna give him," Eggsy says with his mouth right by Harry's ear, and Merlin downs his entire drink in one shaky swallow.

"What do you think about that, Harry?"

"Please." His voice is muffled in the pillow, screen dark where his glasses are pressed there, until Merlin tells him to turn his head and speak nicely. "Please," he says again, clearer but devastatingly quiet, imploring gaze fixed on Eggsy's eyes so Merlin can see the fluttery way he's blinking and the pretty pink flush in his cheeks.

"Stay still for me," he says, and Harry freezes, silent and barely seeming to breathe. "Eggsy – touch him. One fingertip, stroke him as gentle as you can. Watch what happens."

The glasses camera refocuses automatically when Eggsy leans in, filling the screen with Harry's upper back and shoulders – the glimmer of sweat, every pore and freckle, every scar from old gunshot wounds to the ghost marks of Merlin's favourite flogger. When Eggsy touches him, forefinger dragging a lingering line from the nape of Harry's neck to a spot between his shoulder blades, Merlin can see in perfect high definition the sudden thrilling rush of goosebumps bursting up and marring the beloved skin just below his damp hair.

"Oh," Eggsy says softly, inflected like he's just found god.

"That is why we say no to him."

Most Sweet Story: I suppose Harry babysitting Daisy and letting her draw tattoos on his arms in Sleeping Beauty?

"Holy Crap, That's Wrong, Even For You!" Story: I don't do wrong! Even the BDSM kinky pain shit is as fluffy as candyfloss. I usually quite like a bit of fucked up angst but it just doesn’t do it for me in this fandom, at least not when I’m writing. I just want everyone to be happy and kiss lots (and gangbang Harry until he’s done).

Making Harry a seven foot tall god with fuckin massive antlers and galaxies for eyes was a bit odd, maybe :P

Story That Shifted My Own Perceptions Of The Characters: This sort of demisexual voyeur Merlin in Bespoke was Smaychel's creation really. We just talked endlessly about these guys for weeks on end before they ever made it into any fic, and somehow he's become so comfortable for me to write even though we're nothing alike. I didn't realise until months into posting that most of the stuff I write for that series is Merlin POV.

Most Unintentionally Telling Story: I don't know about unintentional, I'm pretty open about the extremely specific indulgent crap I love to write :P

Hardest Story To Write: I'm dragging my feet a bit on Echoes of Dreamland (the one about Harry and Merlin as posh schoolboys) because it's taking me closer to the Flame Keepers series being OVER and that makes me sad! My very first offering to this glorious fandom. Need to finish this, then there'll be a sequel to the Roxy/Merlin Little Sparks thing and a final small Harry & Merlin epilogue, then I think it's done. (Unless I actually give in to the temptation to finally write a Kingsman origins story with some of the Flame Keepers retired agents OCs, but not sure anybody wants to read basically original fic.)

Biggest Disappointment: MY WIP SHAME. Terrible.

Biggest Surprise: Every time someone says "so I really didn't like bottom Harry but fuck you for making me love it" my heart grows seven times bigger.

#writing #meme

[jjaywmac]

Chapter 2

Saturday came and promptly at noon, the BMW pulled into my driveway.  She stepped out of the car wearing cut-offs, a tank top and most importantly, flats.  I’m six-foot one and she had just leveled the playing field.

“Welcome, but you should have brought a bathing suit.”

“Honey, this is the Sun Coast – there is one under my clothes, another one in the glove compartment, and an emergency back-up in the trunk.”

We walked through the front door and into what Floridians call the great room.  Which translates as “no walls.”

“Well, I see you’ve done the whole place in early bachelor.”

“Yes, it does cry out for a woman’s touch.”

Would you like the job?  Full time?  She looked around and then noticed the sidewall.

“I always say that no Florida home is complete without a portrait of an aircraft carrier – the army-navy surplus store?”

“CVN-72, the USS Abraham Lincoln.  My brother is a carrier pilot and that’s his ship.”

“So how come a good looking, well-off guy like you hasn’t been roped, tagged, and branded?”

“Well, since you asked.  You are a Baseball fan.  Do you know the name George Brett?”

“Sure.”

“George had a brother named Ken, a really good guy known to everyone as ‘Kemer’, and his philosophy became my philosophy.  A baseball player has a lot of opportunities – see also temptations and it seems crazy to get married and then spend half the year being unfaithful, so, don’t get hitched until after you retire.  If you are single you can do anything you want.  You can two-time, three-time or even four-time.  Once you put the ring on, everything changes, no more straying, no foolin’ around.  Kemer is gone now, but his philosophy is alive and well and living in me.  Do I believe in marriage?  Absolutely.  My parents had a fabulous marriage.  That’s my story.  Now what about you?  How is it that a mouth-watering redhead is not bedding down in some oil baron’s ranch house?”

“I’ve had my chances.  I went with a guy through college and it looked like we were headed toward the altar until one day he broke it off.  He told me that he wanted more.  And that ‘he couldn’t be what I wanted him to be.’  Whatever that means.  Combined with the ever popular ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’  And, of course, like so many women, I immediately blamed myself, wondering what’s wrong with me.  In time, it was replaced by a brisk screw him, and I threw myself into my career.”

“More?  Are you kidding?  You are beautiful, sexy, smart, funny, and have legs for days.  What else is there?”

With a smile that could break your heart she replied,

“He didn’t say, he just left.”

Thus making him the dumbest man who has ever lived.

“You are a sweetheart, but enough with the bargain basement flattery, I’m hungry and you promised me lunch.”

Note to self: NEVER leave this girl waiting.

“So, padna, as we say in Texas, let’s mosey over to the chuck wagon.  Do I get to drive the Lotus?”

“Not today.  I think we’ll go with an alternative form of transportation.”

Those legs followed me into the backyard past the pool, down to the dock and my 15-foot boat.  No surprise, it’s a Boston Whaler.

“Where are we going?”

“As promised, Phillippi Creek, via the scenic route.  I’ll drive and you lie gracefully across the front cushions.”

“Lie gracefully?  Really?  Is this lunch or just a clever ruse to get me into my bikini?”

What I lack in intelligence, I make up for in cunning.

“OK, Lefty, your boat, your rules.”

In a flash, the cut-offs and tank top were gone.  I nearly fell out of the boat.  From stem to stern, seventy-two inches of goddess in a black bikini and the legs were only the start.  Some girls are fun; this girl is an amusement park – Marciaworld.  Believe me when I tell you, Disneyland is so not the happiest place on earth.  I almost felt sorry for the guy who passed up the chance to marry her.  Almost.  Wherever you are today, buddy, thank you.

“Why do I think I’m not the first woman you’ve gotten in this boat?  I’ll bet if I look hard enough, I’ll find a thong around here.”

“You are too late, I cleaned out the thongs last week along with all the bras, the garter belts and stilettos.  Right now, I’m only thinking about the present woman in this boat, not the ones who have gone before.”

“Did they teach you that line of bull shit at Boston College or did you learn it in the National League?”

There have been other women, lots of other women, but nothing like this.  Something tells me I am going to have to bring my “A” game to this party.

“Never mind where, when or how I learned it.  The operative question is, ‘is it working?’”

“I’ve heard worse.  Heck, I’ve gone home with worse, which I guess bodes pretty well for you.”

I just smiled – of course by now even my hair was getting hard.  By the way, on top of everything else, she does graceful very well.  Don’t take my word for it, just ask the men on every boat we’re passing.  All of us lost in a reverie.

“Hey, Lefty, someone is hungry up here.  Will this thing go any faster?  I’ve been on quicker cattle drives.  No wonder they call this bucket a whale boat.”

End of reverie.

Thankfully, we are a minute away from the dock at the Phillippi Creek Village Restaurant & Oyster Bar.  As usual on Saturday afternoon, the joint is jumping but we somehow manage to find an open slip and then flimflam our way into a table by the window.  The Oysters in question are Apalachicolas.  Found only on the Florida panhandle and prized by shellfish aficionados as some of the best in the world.  The server arrives…

“And what can I get for the lady?”

“Two dozen oysters.”

Lunch is off and running.  I wouldn’t eat those slimy buggers with a gun to my head, so I counter with a half-pound of shrimp and follow that with another half-pound.  She hoovers the oysters and then goes for the crab cakes and cold slaw.  What we have here is a girl with either a Texas-size appetite, or the metabolism of a hummingbird.

“Is it too early in a second date to discuss a third date?”

With a voice that Mae West would have been proud of,

“What do you have in mind, big boy?”

Very good, too bad my Cary Grant is lousy.

“Ever had dinner at the White House?”

“Not since George and Laura moved out.”

When will I learn?  She’s too quick for me.

“White House?  Do you mean Maison Blanche?”

“Yes.  The French place on Longboat Key, the number-one rated restaurant in town.  Saturday night, I can make a reservation for eight and pick you up at 7:30.”

“Lucky for you, I’m dying to try it…you’re on.”

As we walk down the dock to leave, she reaches over and grabs the key out of my hand, jumps in and sits down behind the wheel of the whaleboat.

“Get in.”

“Can you drive this thing?”

“Let’s find out.”

I untie the line and step over the gunwale as she jams the throttle forward.  Now with one foot on the deck and the other on the dock, the whaler takes off.  I am lucky enough to fall into the boat rather than the water.

“Let’s see what this baby can do.”

“Great, I’ll just sit here and watch for the Coast Guard.”

In a flash, we are under the bridge and doing ‘S’ turns across Robert’s Bay, all of this way above the speed limit.  I ordered the whaler with the upgraded engines in case someone wanted to do a little water skiing.  Oh, was I regretting that decision.

“We who are about to die salute you.”

Her heavy hand on the throttle gets us down the Intracoastal, through Sarasota Bay, and into the canal in a heartbeat.  Skillfully, she pulls the engines back to idle and floats the whaler right to the dock.  I have been sandbagged.

After extending my hand and helping her out, I explained,

“I usually charge gorgeous redheads for driving my boat.”

“Really?  What is the going rate?”

“This.”

I take her in my arms, pull her close, and plant one on those pouty lips.  She gives just as good as she gets.  This is a girl who has been kissed before.  The golden moment is broken when she starts to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was thinking, what is the charge for driving the Lotus?”

I turned away and begin peering into the whaler.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking to see if you’ve left a thong.”

    BURDEN OF PROOF “Round Two” Chapter 2 Saturday came and promptly at noon, the BMW pulled into my driveway.  She stepped out of the car wearing cut-offs, a tank top and most importantly, flats.