“Hey, is that the kind of greeting I get for trying to give you a scratch?” Bucky shook out his hand, the metal still bright and hot from the flames. He picked up a sprig of dried lavender and watched as it turned to glittering ash. “…I guess that works.”
Tony just licked his lips, nuzzling against Bucky’s neck more closely. You’re welcome.
Tony gapes up from the floor at the beautiful man in front of him. He’s only seventy percent sure that this isn’t an early morning hallucination.
“You okay there?”
“Get on that, fishtail,” Bucky-creature said to the Tony-mer. “Tired of bein’ lopsided.”
Oooh tony likes to wear heels to be able to kiss Bucky w/o having to tip toe
“Hey, babe! What’s up?”
Bucky bullies his tiny doppelganger when Tony’s not looking.
Tony: “I made you a nightlight.”
Winter: “Kindness and a bright mind that sees so much, but does not see that the light I wish for at night is thee. Disappointment and agony. Crushing.”
There are two kinds of problems in the world: The sort that can be fixed, and the sort that can’t. When Winter, an ex-slave who can’t fly because of a torn wing and a ruined heart, is delivered to Tony Stark, he is a mix of both kinds of problems. Tony might be able to make a new wing for the poor avian, but can he cure a broken heart and bring peace to a former slave who no longer remembers who, or what, he is?
It is proposed that the strings of fate we each see come from our fabric of being, a manifestation of the soul unraveling towards our other half. Color and point of connection have been tied to meanings of love, destiny, or even destruction.
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branchandroot
