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warsmith-38 · 3 years

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How I would do RWBY Pt. 0

Disclaimer: It is easier to improve what already exist than it is to create something new. Boy howdy do I know that. That being said, I believe that RWBY has more than its fair share of flaws and this is how I would do it differently if I was behind the reigns. This is just a collection of my opinions and ideas which in the end will probably amount to nothing. I felt the need to do this because my brain just decided ‘nah motherfucker, you ain’t thinking of anything else from now on’ and this is the end result for nothing else would satisfy my rage.

I wouldn’t quite call this a complete re-haul, but more rather a rework with some of my own brand of polish. It’s not a compete rebuild from the ground up in a different world with different concepts and themes, but how I would go about a second go around with the series from the base that is already there. If a detail is missing from my musings then assume it is either unchanged or removed, depending on context.

If some of my complaints were addressed after I stopped watching, I honestly don’t much care. If it takes longer than 4 seasons to fix what I view as fundamental problems, then it’s far too little too late for me. I paid scant attention to the series post my stopping point and liked little to none of what I saw.

Please do not take this as a specific attack on anything other than the writing of the show itself. This is not directed or targeted against anyone, regardless of position or feelings on the topic at hand. If you ignore what I just said and decide to take this as an insult, then I say that you need to be more self-secure in your tastes and interests.

Things I would remove + reason why

Silver eyed warriors as a concept- it’s more or less the same concept as dojutsu from Naruto. It’s the fucking sharingan (rubygan). It’s not quite chosen one level, but crap like this is the blight of good protagonists. It’s fucking eugenics that makes you awesome not your own skills or training but on your bloodline. No need for personal development or life-changing hardship when you have a built in power that can be cultivated like a fucking bumper crop.

Maidens- Wasn’t intended originally and only made the overall story more cluttered with power creep and plot device. It’s a similar problem as above. No need for training or anything if people can just kill the person who has the power currently and take if from them. Which, at that point, why do you want that power if you’re already strong enough to kill and take it from the person who has it to begin with? It’s something someone just shouted out and they rolled with it because it sounded cool in the moment.

The Relics- McGuffin dragonballs that serve as plot device and little else. A story can be told without needing to monotonously race for Excalibur or the holy grail. Considering the Maidens, I doubt that the relics were intended in the first place and as such if you can’t tell a story without throwing something in after a few seasons because you realized that you didn’t have a plot, then you’re not that good at telling stories.

Oscar- The show didn’t need more main protagonists when what was already there wasn’t being given enough characterization to begin with. For that matter-

Quite a few characters- The cast is cluttered and convoluted enough as is with seemingly important characters getting the shaft in favor of yet another new character that would barely do anything. Time and effort seems to be put into one-off schmucks that would be better served making the story not need poochie the dog, let alone several. Character integration is not ‘create a character to do one thing and then pretend they don’t exist’. There’s already plenty of characters than can be used wherever.

The overt shipping bait, especially if it’s just going to be taken up or abandoned on a whim- I don’t mean relationship building, I mean the obvious baiting of a relationship that, in the end, might not even happen. All it does is dumb down characters and character arcs, draw out pointless scenes, and make the fans have conniptions one way or another. People are pissed off whenever things don’t go their way with shipping so the only winning move with these people is not to play their game. Looking at you Klance and Zutara. Either don’t do anything or have a fucking plan and stick to it and not make complete swerves when fans get uppity. If it genuinely matters to you, then pretend whatever ship happens at whatever point, I don’t care.

Changes to the world that I think would go over better-

Everyone has a level of aura with a naturally high level generally meaning that they might be able to unlock a semblance. A semblance is unlocked through some sort of specific event, typically a stressful one IE: Yang and Ruby are caught in the woods by grimm and Yang gets frustrated and scared at not being able to defend her sister before getting angry and her rage mode semblance unlocking. Not everyone who unlocks a semblance goes into combat schools but it is a requirement for acceptance into most of them. Having the potential to unlock a semblance seems entirely random but has a higher chance with genetics.

There are two types of semblances: 1 is hereditary like the Schnee glyphs, changing only slightly, if at all, through the generations. 2 is a random personal power like Yang having her rage mode as compared to Raven’s portals. Whichever you get tends to be random with the occasional exception depending on genetics and the specific semblance.

Every 1 in assumedly 10 people who have semblances have the potential to have two semblances, often times, but not necessarily, being one hereditary and one random. The process of unlocking the second semblance involves immense emotional distress and in some cases might not even happen for the individual who has the potential, period, thus skewing data. This gives an enhanced type power but isn’t protagonist exclusive. It shows a higher than average power capacity, but isn’t a gamebreaker to the same level as a fucking kekkei genkai or getting the powers of a fucking demigod. A good amount of characters would only have one semblance and be considerable badasses despite it and even be able to beat a couple of the few that have two.

Establish Menagerie as the official Fifth Kingdom, the newest of the great kingdoms. Maybe not the singularly strongest or most influential, but make it so Menagerie and its people, the faunus, have a considerable role in the world’s affairs, if even from an isolationist standpoint. Don’t have them as even a semi thriving entity that isn’t a kingdom because that only begs the question as to why the kingdoms are so important to begin with then.

Make the White Fang a faunus supremacist group that has very little support, if any, from the faunus people as a whole. Faunus right issues are history for the vast majority of the world and the White Fang as a whole is only using the problems in Atlas with the SDC as a means of trying to gain power. There are actual faunus rights groups trying to make things better for their race in Atlas and other marginalized areas but the White Fang dislikes them on the grounds that they go against their goal and it makes them look even worse.

Fucking pronounce names correctly, I mean, Christ. Weiss, the word, is pronounced like ‘Vice’. It’s an actual fucking word. It’s the German word for white. It’s like saying tor-till-uh not tor-tee-ah. Blake is Bella-doe-nah not Bella-dawn-uh. Shit like that. No you don’t need to put on a heavy accent to say these words but pronouncing things so inaccurately just makes you look like an ignorant rube (no, that was not a pun). I don’t fucking care what your reasons are. Why use these words in the first place if you’re not even going to try to say them right?

Ozpin is order to Salem’s chaos. Ancient demigods of both archetypes vying for power across the ages and the innocent peoples of the world be damned in the crossfire. Neither are entirely good nor evil but both are not exactly helpful to the free peoples on the world and the continued livelihood thereof. Their progenitor god created them to try and guide humanity in a balanced way. That seemed to work at first, but then failed like a bad marriage and they waged war ever since like a bad divorce. The grimm are a creation of Salem’s to test humanity and make then stronger through conflict. Ozpin ranges from the lawman to the fascist fairly duplicitously. The two can only be permanently killed by each other but neither wants to get too close to the other because of that exact same reason. If killed by other means, they will resurrect after a fashion no worse for wear.

Overt changes to (and complaints about) Ruby Rose- It is a crime that the titular character has so little actual character beyond just being ‘Hyperactive Anime Protagonist #235’. Most of her (few) character traits are tell not show, and of course she’s got the fucking rubygan bloodline ability crap. She has next to nothing that isn’t allotted by default to most anime protags on the grounds of the stereotype. For the main character to have less character than any of the members of the fucking B-team is a travesty.

1. Give her a clear rebellious streak, a distinct problem with authority, and a headstrong attitude. Daddy doesn’t want her to be in danger, so she decides to become a huntress. She’s told to stay put, so she hunts down Roman. She’s told that she needs to stay home and recover, so she sets out on her own not thinking about the exact consequences. Make her the impetus for the team’s involvement with the problems of the world in the early seasons. Make her a driving part of the plot, not just being along for the ride or because someone else said so.

2. Give her blood knight tendencies. Make her VERY willing to get into a fight with the bad guys, not just fights in general, but fights against bad guys. Nothing over the top, but enough that she has a scene or three where she says “Shut up bad guy, skip to the part where we get to kick the crap out of you,” or something of that nature. Hyper combative characters are fun and ethical.

3. Give her more traits as a mechanic and weapon nerd. Include scenes of her fixing everyone’s weapons for fun or being able to analyze an opponent’s fighting style based on the type, design, and/or wear & tear of their weapon, make her a polyglot of weapons that can be at least proficient in using just about any weapon. Come to think of it…

4. Anything that could give her actual character traits. They don’t even have to be all that major traits, just give her enough so that we actually have a character with more definition than printer paper. She’s the main character, the titular character at that. This isn’t a video game with a blank-slate protagonist. If the main character isn’t even really a character, like, at all, then what’s the fucking point?

5. Convert silver eyes power into a second semblance for white fire vision that kills grimm like nothing else. Gotten as a hereditary semblance from Summer. Which is also why Summer was specifically targeted by Salem on the grounds that it makes her just a little too dangerous for her long-term plans. This makes it so she isn’t just the fucking chosen one, but still has a clear definitive reason to be involved against the big bad because, y’know, dead mom. Yes, this kinda goes into the whole ‘bloodline is what determines importance’ thing I wanted to be rid of, but it’s only a chance two generations instead of a massive lineage of nonsense and keeps more of the onus of involvement on Ruby herself.

6. Give her a very clear motivation that’s deeper than surface level. ‘Oh, I want to do the right thing’ is a flimsy as balls motivation especially compared to the rest of her team that has that AND an actual reason for thinking that way. Why does she want to be the good guy? What happened in her life that makes her this motivated to doing the right thing? Yang has her desire to find her mother (which, come to think of it, doesn’t necessitate being a good guy), Blake has wanting to make up for being a terrorist, Weiss has her desire to step out from under the shadow of her family’s reputation, even fucking Jaune, the b-team protagonist, who wants to live up to his family reputation, has a proper motivation to be involved in the story. WHY is Ruby involved beyond ‘I’m the main character’ level reasoning? As much as admitting it makes me wish to commit Sudoku, even SAO has better main character motivations. Good god, I need hooch after typing that.

Overt changes to (and complaints about) Yang Xiao-Long- Her arc was mostly fine, barring some of the pacing. Raven being a maiden undercut the message of ‘screw that deadbeat bitch, go to your real family’ by making her important to the overall world state and confirming a measure of later relevance but that’s more a flaw with Raven than Yang.

1. Keep her motivation about getting strong enough to find her mother but add in the clear desire to kick her ass for leaving her and Tai. Of course it’s more about just getting the answers to her questions, but the ass-kicking should also be a major component.

2. Amp up the rivalry between her and Mercury. Mercury was designed as an opposite to Yang, I mean for fuck’s sake, look at him. Consider their respective backstories too; both raised in a single father home yet one was supported and loved (if a little neglected) while the other was horrifyingly maimed and abused. Punch vs kick. It works.

3. Make her more protective of her little sister, explicitly going along with her personal crusade to keep her safe (safer, rather). If she’s supposed to be the good older sister, maybe just maybe, something more than lip-service to that idea should be done. Hell, maybe she can be overprotective like their father, or even the exact opposite, not really giving a shit and then learning to give one. That might lead to a little tension and growth between the two of them.

4. Make her semblance consistent. Is she supposed to have super saiyan rage mode or is it energy buildup and dispersal? Is it supposed to be both? Just make it rage mode, for the sake of fuck, and don’t flip-flop. Speaking of…

5. Give her anger issues. Flesh out her being the kind of gal that would start a fight in a nightclub when she doesn’t get what she needed with little justification. This would stem from abandonment issues from Raven, Summer (inadvertently), and Tai and her general thrill seeking personality. This could lead to tensions and dramas until she overcomes it and learns to use her aggressive feelings and not let them use her.

Overt changes to (and complaints about) Blake Belladonna- Shitty-kitty is shitty, here’s why.

1. Do something with the hypocrisy of being, more or less, princess of Menagerie, a world power albeit a minor one, and joining a band of terrorists that do more harm than good for the people they claim to represent. It’s like a trust-fund baby joining some charity organization in Africa for a few weeks, doing jack-shit to help, joining some jihadists, and then acting like she’s Mahatma Gandhi.

2. Make her arc less about running away and fighting Adam, more about realizing that running is for assholes and try to find her team to at least apologize for cutting and running like she did. Doing that and stopping Adam are not mutually exclusive. The friend thing should be the priority. As it stands she is almost rewarded for abandoning her team just to focus on her own problems.

3. Make her arc involve going from ‘There’s no such thing as pure evil’ to ‘Okay maybe some people are just too evil to work with’. Some people are too far gone and, despite still having good traits, will only ever continue to do evil things and don’t deserve the benefit of the doubt. Not everyone has some sort of good motive beneath the surface and, even then, does that matter when the only action they do is objectively evil? Still, y’know, save who you can, like Ilia.

4. Have Belladonna not actually be her last name. If she’s the daughter of a the chief of Menagerie, the closest thing the faunus have to a unified racial leader, then how the unholy shit does nobody recognize her name? She is, again, princess of Menagerie, yet nobody recognizes the name in a grander context. Have ‘Belladonna’ be a cover name so she can hide her identity better so that she’s using what should be a very recognizable real name in a tournament that is broadcasted worldwide. Her real family name could be “Nightshade” or some shit like that.

5. If she’s supposed to be ‘The quiet one’ maybe actually have her be quiet and not make big speeches every season or have loud arguments with her team. Just a fucking thought. If she’s still supposed to do that, then make her ‘the opinionated one’ or ‘the kind of mean one’ or even ‘the one who doesn’t shut up’. Blake, as seen, or rather heard, is not the quiet one.

6. Have her actually fucking interact with Ruby. Maybe they have a two-person book club. Maybe Blake teaches Ruby to meditate or something. Anything, anything at all would be fine, anything more than nothing at all. Blake’s whole interaction with the team shouldn’t just be through Yang and cursory scenes with Weiss.

Overt changes to (and complaints about) Weiss Schnee- You can’t solve racism with like two scenes.

1. Make the racism thing a much more gradual decay rather than more or less disappearing after a single conversation. Hell, make jokes about it, ‘oh, no, one of my best friends is a faunus,’ stuff. It’s hard to unlearn an upbringing of hate, but she’s trying type stuff.

2. Involve her at least a little with the White Fang plot. It only makes sense that the heiress of the company that still more or less has slave labor is at least semi-involved with the plotline involving terrorists that want that company destroyed. Make her subject to assassination attempts at a young age, or even have her been kidnaped at a young age and held hostage, getting her scar in the process.

3. As evident by some of the intros, her rival was supposed to be Emerald. This could be serviceable, at the very least. The street rat pickpocket that had to learn life lessons the hard way and was taken in by the baddies VS. the rich heiress born with a silver spoon but raised by a dickhead. There’s potential there and it is a crime that it is not explored in the slightest. Even Yang and Mercury had a minor fight.

4. Like Yang, make her semblance consistent. Is it supposed to be summoning or physics altering magic symbols? These are two completely different powers, it’s not like super speed also giving super reflexes or whatever. Just make it one or the other, don’t bullshit us on these things. Or, hell, make it a second semblance she gets during the course of story.

5. Emphasize her loneliness. Make the main onus of her personal arc be about how she goes from this prickly, spoiled, opinionated, brat to a warm and caring friend who only wants the best for everyone. Yes, this might be the main intention in canon, but I feel it could have used a little more refining.

Overt changes to (and complaints about) Cinder Fall- If she’s supposed to be Ruby’s chief rival and foil then she needs a lot of work to even be close. She shouldn’t be nothing but the rival, but at that same time she should have that be a considerable part of her characterization and role in the series. I feel the best way to do it is to have their similarities highlight their differences in both character and design. Basically, make her the Vergil to Ruby’s Dante.

1. Make her Ruby’s age. Being the same age as Ruby while initially outclassing her, and even veteran hunters, provides risk and contrast between the two. Throw in an evil sadistic streak compared to Ruby’s happy-go-lucky personality to further the contrast and you’ve got a good little yin-yang thing for them. It also shows just how bad someone can turn out if raised to be a killing machine.

2. Keep her using the bow/twin swords as a comparably simple weapon in contrast to Ruby’s, even in universe, overcomplicated Scythe/Sniper rifle. Both weapons are long range marksmen’s weapons as well as vicious close combat weapons but are still very different in essence. Also make sure she keeps the red with black and gold color scheme is contrast with Ruby’s Black with red and silver. Even minor visual cues can work to the rival schema.

3. Make her one of the people who have two semblances. Pyromancy (pyrokinesis? Fire bending, she has fire bending) and dilated perception (bullet time) so that Ruby’s super speed and the dilated perception cancel each other out, adding a little extra tension to the fights now that both parties’ signature abilities are moot points against each other.

4. Make her competent. She kills Ozpin and Pyrrha and then she either fails or draws every fucking fight she has afterwards baring nameless jobbers here and there. Even before that, she needed help to take down Amber and even manages to fuck that up. The more failures she has and the less intimidating she is. Too much of that and she’s just a jobber that makes you wonder why she was ever seen as intimidating in the first place. When that happens then Ruby beating her is just the status quo and not a triumph of any sort.

5. Make her Ruby’s long lost fraternal twin sister. Incredibly cliché, I admit, but siblings make the best rivals, especially twins. Once again, it’s all about adding the similarities and the contrasts. In this case it creates the ‘there but for the grace of god go I’ idea with the two of them. Ruby seeing it as how evil she could have turned out and Cinder seeing it as how weak she could have been (Eventually becoming how good she could have had it because I’m a sucker for redemption arcs) Who said that?

Overt changes to (and complaints about) Team JNPR- JNPR was fine-ish but the over focus on Jaune and the underutilization of Ren + Nora early on are both issues. B-team should not get jack shit before the A-team gets the lions share.

1. Downplay Jaune’s screen time. I doubt this is a particularly controversial statement. Jaune is not the titular character. This is (technically) a shoujo not a shounen. It’s supposed to be about the girls more than the guys. It kind of undercuts that idea when the guy (the side guy at that) gets the lion’s share of characterization, attention, and growth before the girl (the main girl) does.

2. Make Ren and Nora actual characters earlier on. Comic relief is all well and good, but either extend that to the whole team or make these two characters more than just comic relief in the early parts of the story. Make them, y’know, actual characters. They ain’t gotta be all that important, but they do have to be actual characters.

3. Make Pyrrha’s deathflags less blindingly obvious. We all knew Pyrrha was going to get clipped. The self-sacrificing type, all the musical and visual cues throughout, being based on Achilles, and ‘oh she just confessed to the boy she likes’. Homegirl was waving deathflags like an insecure redneck with the confederate flag. When you foreshadow obvious things that much it’s not a surprise to the audience when it happens and the reaction of the in universe characters seems overdone. If it’s not supposed to be a surprise then, whatever, but that’s clearly not the case if you’re going for just shock value. It’s fine for a character to die, but for the love of Jaysus you got to do something with it more than ‘this character’s sole purpose is to die for the angst and to up the stakes’. Pyrrha was just a plot jobber.

4. Make them a little more independent in the overall plot. Give them their own full sub-plots, have them go on their own little adventures, have them do things completely separate from RWBY that has plot relevance but not overtaking the main story in grandeur or importance. B-team gets B-plots and are cool in it of themselves.

Overt changes to (and complaints about) Qrow Branwen- Take or leave this, I just felt the need to include this because reasons.

1. Just make him Dante from Devil May Cry. Just make his personality the same as Dante from Devil May Cry. Make him stylish and cool but low-key a massive dork. He’s too cool to drink or smoke or anything harsher than PG-13. This series could use a guy like that, says I.

2. Make his semblance something that makes sense and isn’t just an angst generator. How do you even quantify ‘bad luck aura’ as a power? Make it short range teleportation as a connection to Raven’s portals. Make it so that he can direct the bad luck at will. Do SOMETHING with it that isn’t just an excuse for mostly pointless character angst.

3. This technically also counts as a Raven change but whatever. Make the Branwen family old nobility and not a loser bandit tribe from nowhere. Or at least make it so they used to rich or something. They come from a family that had a good amount of cash and even a chateau in Mistral. After the money dried up and the chateau ransacked by grimm, the Branwen twins had differing opinions on how to proceed. Qrow fully integrated into the hunter thing while Raven ran away and became a bandit, using it as further excuse to skedaddle on Tai and a recently born Yang.

#RWBY #RWDE #I guess #Ruby Rose #Weiss Schnee #Blake Belladonna #Yang Xiao Long #Ozpin #Cinder Fall #Tagging this as much as I please #Team JNPR #Jaune Arc #Rewrite #Hate if you wish #How I would do...#Pyrrha Nikos

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margridarnauds · 3 years

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AC Unity: The Ghost of Orléans

Since I started playing Unity, I’ve, honestly, been amazed that, as far as potential villains, they totally abandoned Louis Philippe Joseph, Duc d’Orléans, otherwise known as Philippe Égalité during the Revolution.

The game goes out of its way to bring in the historical cameos - Everything from the usual suspects like Danton, Robespierre, Marie Antoinette, Mirabeau, etc. to the Chevalier d’Eon, Rose Bertin, Sanson, Lenormand, Vidocq. Given Philippe’s prominence, it’s honestly weird that they didn’t have him in there as a cameo. The Comte d’Artois arguably also would have been another good option as an early villain of the Revolution (and an ongoing threat), but I can understand his absence MORE given that, by the time the main story begins, he was out of France.

The man, historically, was blamed for a lot of the problems associated with the Frev, including the grain shortages that we see Saint-Germain’s (fictional) accomplices taking part in.

One of the quests involves a “Templar smuggling operation” in the Palais Royal, aka Philippe’s main headquarters. They’re basically already using him in the game, even if it’s not by name (and referring to him as “the king’s brother” when it was his great great grandfather, Philippe, who was the brother of Louis XIV), but, for some reason they avoided mentioning him by name.

This Nostradamus Enigma Clue: By the spirit of Égalité / The Citoyen is welcome in a royal garden/ Where the mighty Helios ignites daily / Man's most destructive power. Now, Nostradamus Enigmas cover a variety of subjects both in and outside of the database (causing my directionally challenged self much woe when it says something like “Head South Beyond The Land Of The Dead”), but it’s one more of those times where Philippe’s just dropped in there.

In Rotondo’s entry, it says that he met with the Duc d’Orléans a number of times and that it “probably wasn’t to teach the Duc Latin.” So Philippe, in the canon of AC: Unity, is plotting SOMETHING, we just don’t see it. Why bring in the reference to Philippe in there, given that to someone who doesn’t KNOW the Revolution, they wouldn’t know who he is?

In Project Widow, there’s a section called “Blame It On Philippe” that’s on Philippe’s role as “Mastermind” behind the Palais Royal and its part in the early revolution. Why bring that in there when it isn’t really relevant to what you see in the game? Could be a fun fact, but given the other references, it’s WEIRD.

And then you have this newspaper entry from 1794:

[Img description: “Citizen Égalité seems to have been the driving force behind the sentencing of his cousin Louis Capet. His tireless, insightful reasoning of the situation and all the stakes involved, helped sway many a fence sitter.”

Which is strange because in the gameplay proper, the one person we see who is blamed for the death of Louis, the one who breaks the (inaccurate) tie, would be Le Peletier. This makes sense: Le Peletier WAS historically assassinated, giving the chance for a semi-historically accurate assassination in a game otherwise filled with a ton of OCs. Still, why make this newspaper article about Philippe? Why NOT Le Peletier?

At this point, I’m positive that, at some point in the game’s development, given all the references to him scattered throughout the game, all the little times that we see his outline there in the background only for his role to be assigned to someone else, that they intended to have Philippe taking on a more active role. Maybe not as the central antagonist, but at least as a villain in a mission that was cut, because it honestly makes absolutely no sense to me for them to prop him up as much as they do and then not give him a single cameo. Why they didn’t is a mystery to me, though I do have my theories, but it’s honestly the only way that I can personally make sense of all the references.

I could be wrong! I don’t know anything about video game development. But it’s weird to bring him up so often and then not really do anything with it.

#long post #assassin's creed unity #ac unity meta #playing unity

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catflowerqueen · 5 years

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How about #4 from the second set?

4. The life and times of the Little Imp

So we’re getting into some major spoiler territory now, as this is going to come up in two major plot points. …Assuming I ever get the chance to actually write them

And as always, this is subject to change.

The Little Imp is Laura’s immediate predecessor in the line of Rainbow Children, and her early life was far tamer. Like, a LOT tamer. She was born in the human world to a couple who already worshipped Relatia, so there was no fuss about trying to locate her or anything and the typical transitions between Rainbow Children was very smooth. Relatia got to meet her within hours of her birth, and her parents were very loving and attentive. She got to have both the necessary training she needed and an actual childhood, because they actually followed the spirit of the rules, rather than just the letter, and actually let her grow up and be her own person. As per tradition, her actual, legal name was also Laura—which is why Dusknoir assumed that Primal Dialga forbade him from telling the Laura we are used to about the Little Imp’s existence, since he knew enough about human culture and naming conventions that he could understand how that might confuse a child (kind of the same sort of principle as little kids being confused if you call their parents by their given name, or if their mother addresses the child’s grandmother as “mom,” y’know?). They were very strict, however, and she was often very stifled and sheltered. She didn’t have many opportunities to play. But she came by her nickname honestly whenever she got the chance to visit Relatia—around her she was very mischievous and liked to run around, climb on things, and play small harmless pranks and practical jokes. Relatia is the one who gave her the nickname, but she wouldn’t be able to come into it fully and embrace it until after she went to the Pokemon World.

The biggest issue in her life came from a couple who was friends with the family—and more specifically, with their son. The friends were more the “we’ve been friends since we were young, but we really don’t actually get along all that well and don’t have anything in common… but we also don’t really hate each other?” type of friends than the actual good kind, but, well. They seemed pleasant enough on the surface. Almost too pleasant, really, and they were always trying to ingratiate themselves to the Little Imp—especially in regards to their son. Who was infatuated with the Little Imp, even though she never, ever reciprocated those feelings.

The thing about romance and Rainbow Children is that they are not actually bound to being celibate, or to swearing off romance. Nowhere in the “rules” does it say that she cannot marry or have children—and she actually has done both in a few past lives. Just… not often, because it always ends up in some sort of heartbreak. Usually hers. Or guilt from her next life, when she does not have clear memories of her former husband or children who may still be alive and meet their mother’s/wife’s successor. Not to mention the residual guilt and heartbreak she always carries because she has never, ever gotten over Mason. It’s her guilt about her memories that stops her every time, as well as the fact that she typically treats each life as though she’s an entirely new person each time and just shares her soul with her past lives. Kind of like Aang, from Avatar the Last Airbender, I suppose, with the way he treats his past lives… but also not really, because she still has limited access to all her memories and obviously can’t speak to past Rainbow Children the way Aang can speak to the other Avatars.

This is also a rather inaccurate perception for other reasons, which will become clear later, but at the same time… well, it’s complicated enough to think about, let alone try and explain. I guess the easiest thing to say would be that she IS the same person throughout all her lives, but she’s also different. Nature and nurture both have an effect on her. If she could actually remember things the way Mason apparently can lifetime to lifetime, then things would be different. But it is what it is—the point being that marriage and taking lovers is always an option for the Rainbow Children, but, despite their deepest wishes, they generally decline. When they don’t, it’s typically for things like marriages of convenience, or protection. They are happy to be mothers to any children that come along as the results of these marriages—ecstatic, even—but they always hold onto the guilt that they know will come when they can’t remember them in their next life. Even though it’s not their fault, they always feel responsible, and as if they are a bad mother since they can no longer be there for their children—who really aren’t even their children any more, in any case. There are also plenty of times where they have agreed to be a surrogate mother—both the actual biological mother and as just the carrier—and been completely happy and guilt free to do so. Being a beloved friend, aunt, or caretaker does not cause nearly as much grief in the next life, since she knows those kids had actual parents who could shower them in love and be there for them when she couldn’t. But I digress.

The point is that this couple and their son (whose name I haven’t decided on) did not get the memo. Since they know it is still a possibility, they tried to subtly push at every turn to get their son to become the Little Imp’s husband because they thought that such an alliance would bring them further glory. And of course their son picked up on that, and carried the entitled attitude and infatuation with him for the rest of his life. Or at least the rest of his life that the Little Imp knew about, since she obviously was not there for all of it, what with the whole “ended up in the pokemon world” thing.

…Come to think of it… It is entirely possible that he ends up becoming the father of the Laura we are more used to. It would be almost fitting, in a way, though of course that is in no way set in stone.

Point is, it became a lot more obvious what the couple and their son were hoping for after the Little Imp turned thirteen and realized who she was. Thankfully, she did not have to interact with him all that much when her more intensive training began. When the Little Imp is somewhere between 18 and 20, she starts/becomes employed at an orphanage, becoming pretty much the sole caretaker—she figures it’s the closest she will get to motherhood—or, rather, the closest she can get without feeling guilty about it. But the boy, now a man, will. Not. Give. Up. And has stepped up his game, actually becoming creepy and kind of violent—which was another reason she started working at the orphanage, as it got her far away from him. But he was still relentless, did not give up, and was really starting to make things miserable for her. Not helping this was that her parents died shortly after she ascended as the Rainbow Child, so she lost a major support group. Relatia loves and cares for her… but she can’t always be around, and at that point the Little Imp was still too young and untrained to go with her as she did her divine duties.

Anyways, eventually Primal Dialga decides, for whatever reason, that he wants to bring the Rainbow Child to the pokemon world. This is not exactly the most advisable thing to do, but he doesn’t really care. Nor does he care about all the spatial issues he caused when he sent Dusknoir—then just Dusclops—across space in order to “convince” her to come. Palkia did not need all that mess on top of everything else, and is not very happy with him. But he’s too busy fixing and stabilizing it to actually go after him. And it’s not like he would have done it from a simply moral standpoint, either, as he didn’t bother doing anything before and was content to just sit and wait around in his rift since, ironically, time stopping didn’t actually mess with space as much as you would think, given all the issues that were apparently happening in the post-game. Then again, who knows how much of that was really an issue vs. whatever Darkrai was up to.

But back to Dusclops and how he’s faring in a world where time flows properly after what he’s been used to… yeah. He wasn’t exactly in the best place to actually accomplish his mission, so it’s a good thing that the Little Imp actually saw him first as she was taking a walk on the beach and recognized what he was and which world he came from, despite the fact that there hadn’t been any travel between the human and pokemon worlds for nearly a thousand years—which is another important plot point, but one that is only semi-relevant to the topic at hand, and will not be touched upon at this time. She was, of course, excited, but managed to both remain calm and get him to remain calm and actually explain to her who he was and what he was doing there. She was of course shocked and dismayed to hear about the state of the pokemon world, and, both surprisingly and unsurprisingly, was perfectly willing to go back there with him. Just… not for the reasons Dialga wanted—he essentially just wanted the Rainbow Child to be there. Not exactly as a friend, but not as something/someone lesser, either. He’s not really sure what he wanted out of this relationship except her just… being there. Because things made sense the last time a Rainbow Child was around. And he missed seeing them visit every lifetime, even if he was sad that they couldn’t remember him and all the good times they shared. The Little Imp, of course, was hopeful that she could go and act as some sort of stabilizing presence for him, or to figure out how to fix things—since, after all, the whole point of the Time Gears was to stop this from happening in the first place, and as far as she and anyone else knows, dealing with Temporal Tower and its issues is the reason Relatia gave her the gift of reincarnation in the first place, even if her reasoning has changed in the past millenia.

But in either case, she asks Dusclops to wait a little before they head to the pokemon world. She has to get someone to watch the kids, for one, not to mention pack her own things and see if Relatia will be back from whenever soon so that she can come too and hopefully help figure out what’s going on. Failing that, she would at least like to leave some sort of explanatory message.

Unfortunately, the boy is through being “nice,” and about a day or so after the Little Imp gets the ball rolling in terms of all these plans, he comes after her, and tries to take her by force—even going so far as to burn down the orphanage. Thankfully all the kids got out without being injured, but that was pretty much the last straw for the Little Imp, and she all but begged Dusclps to take them back to the pokemon world right then and there, note to Relatia or no. He complies, and they head off.

Of course, hearing about the dark future and actually seeing it are two completely different things, and the situation is much worse than the Little Imp could have possibly imagined. She also gets the suspicion that when Relatia eventually finds out from someone what happened to her, it would cause a big mess with Dialga’s sanity being the way it is and Relatia’s temper and protectiveness, and she’s 90% certain that the pokemon world would get irreparably broken in the fight that would ensue over her if the two were to meet, so she somehow, some way puts up the block that Relatia mentioned in the story that prevented her from traveling to the pokemon world. The Little Imp feels really bad about it, but figures that it is the safer option for everyone.

Many shenanigans ensue while the Little Imp is there acting as a sort of morality chain for Primal Dialga, including, but not limited to, Dusclop evolving into Dusknoir on one of their many adventures, her giving him heart attacks on a regular basis with her tendency to act wild and climb every tall thing she conceivably could, saving Celebi’s life, saving the lives of the sableye and basically becoming their surrogate mother, etc.

But one day while she was doing the aforementioned tree climbing, she accidentally got a cut on her palm. And it got infected, and she became ill with a rather nasty disease that she didn’t have immunities from since pokemon don’t really seem to know what vaccinations are/have the ability to give someone a vaccination, and the Little Imp didn’t get the vaccinations typical of those who are in danger of accidentally falling into different worlds (since there is actually a job for that among Relatia’s people—they basically watch and monitor space and time streams and portals so they can either give Relatia a heads up or use some minor power to fix things themselves—which, of course, leaves them a little at risk of ending up in places where they shouldn’t) since she was never supposed to leave the human world. So, as we saw while the Spirit Trio were enacting their ill-advised plan in the Cave of Reflections… the Little Imp died. She was somewhere around 25 or 26.

And then she was reborn as Laura, kicking off the plot of the games and The World’s Treasure.

And you’d better believe that Dialga/Dusknoir figured out what illness the Little Imp died of and how to cure it before Laura arrived. Thankfully, she actually got the complete set of vaccinations beforehand, so it was never a worry for her. Then she became a treecko, and it was even less of a worry.

…And this was still easier to write than those essays I have to do. I am… really not looking forward to actually having to work on them tomorrow. Especially the second one.

#the world's treasure #spoilers #pokemon mystery dungeon #explorers of sky

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tisfan · 6 years

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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

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