#by what little glimpses we’ve gotten into the past era

[kazmaniandevii]

will i get jumped if i say i think uraume is most likely an older teenager in the epilogue and that they just look younger compared to sukuna who is likely almost 8 ft tall

[mythicamagic]

Sesskag Week: Day 2 ‘Black’

Title: Under the Nails

Summary: After 500 years, Sesshoumaru comes looking for the miko Kagome in her era, wondering why she never returned to the past. What he finds plunges him into bleak despair...and causes Tenseiga to stir. Sesskag Week Day 2 - Black.

Rated T

Words: 2,600

Read on: Ao3, fanfiction.net or Dokuga

AN: For Sesskag Week Day 2 - Black (Mourning & Misfortune) a lotta angst in this one so buckle up.

Under the Nails

Heaviness weighed his steps down like his pockets were laden with stones, heart steeled, eyes on the top of Higurashi Shrine's steps.

Sesshoumaru forced his hands to remain loose at his sides, fighting the urge to rip off his glamour and fly. Soar above the concrete straight to their door.

But Sesshoumaru remained polite and wretchedly slow, human in appearance only. He dutifully climbed the stairs, walking with measured, frustrating steps.

Adjusting his tie upon reaching the Higurashi's door, he knocked, shifting.

Kagome's home looked just as it had many years ago- when he'd first located her again. He'd glimpsed her 3-year-old self, before turning away, satisfied that after 500 years of waiting, he had finally reached her era.

He could finally gain the answers he'd sought for so long.

Curious though, that her scent did not reach his nose. Various stale shades of it clung to a few things outside, but it did not feel vibrant, recent.

When her mother opened the door, brown eyes glassy and vacant, deep stress lines beneath them and grief clinging to her like a second skin, Sesshoumaru knew.

He knew it as instinctively as drawing breath.

No.

"...Don't tell me," Mrs Higurashi put a hand to her mouth, gaze flickering over his face searchingly. "You're not Sesshoumaru, are you?"

The tears filling her eyes worsened the ocean roar in his ears.

He could not answer, expression cracking open.

She quickly took his hand in a tight grip, squeezing it. "I'm so sorry. She talked about you- I-I'm probably not making much sense-"

"Where is she?" the question fell softly from his lips, not a demand like he'd initially wanted. His strength fled, instincts snarling, but limping, wounded. They detested everything her mood signalled, causing his heart to shrivel.

Watery brown eyes slid away, squeezing shut. She couldn't look at him when answering. "She's dead. I-it happened two weeks ago," her words trembled. "I'm so sorry."

Why are you sorry? It is not as though you killed her, Sesshoumaru thought dazedly.

"Two weeks?" he repeated numbly, voice a pale rasp.

He'd missed her. Miscalculated.

Kagome had returned to the Feudal Era at 18. She'd tried and failed to sustain a romance with Inuyasha, living as a village miko for a while before travelling. That was how they'd come to be unlikely companions. A demon lord and his miko. By the end of the year, they'd been lovers. At the end of another- a date had been set for their wedding and subsequent mating.

With an easy smile, Kagome left down the Bone Eater's Well just one week prior until they were to be wed, wanting the reassurance of her mother's arms since her family could not join them.

And she'd never returned.

Inuyasha couldn't cross through, as the magic had seemingly run dry once more. They'd waited many, many, many years, hoping it would grant access again. Fate would not permit it.

Sesshoumaru sank to his knees in the threshold of the doorway. "I missed her by two weeks...after waiting 500 years," he chuckled without humour, the backs of his eyes stinging. A gut-punch of emotion rendered him paper-thin. The roar in his ears became a drawling howl of despair. This couldn't be.

Mrs Higurashi knelt with him, sliding her arms around his shoulders and hugging him close. The demon lord remained stiff and unyielding, reeling with bitter shock. He stared ahead sightlessly, before jerking in her arms. He suddenly gripped her tight, pulling away to look her straight in the eye.

"Mrs Higurashi, the funeral-"

"We've already had it," she said gently.

Sharp teeth flashed in a silent snarl, desperation clawing at his tongue. "Not that. Tell me-" he choked out, blunt nails elongating into claws, biting into her clothing.

"Tell me, was Kagome cremated or buried?"

---

He hadn't thought he would have cause to use it again. Kagome getting mixed up in a car accident much like her father before her had certainly changed his assumptions.

Sesshoumaru's throat burned as he walked by some lonely graves.

Approaching one headstone situated closely beside another in the graveyard, Sesshoumaru spared the second a glance.

"It is far too early for her to be joining you," he rumbled, turning away from Mr Higurashi.

Sunset highlighted sparse, lonely surroundings upon the quiet hill in a fiery orange glow, a red plume painting across the sky.

Sesshoumaru felt his black heart clenching as he knelt before the characters of Kagome Higurashi's name, elongating his fingers into talons. He thrust them into the earth, beginning to dig.

He could've transformed, it would've made the process easier, but a part of him wished for penance after failing her. He'd failed his prospective mate. She never should've died. If he'd just gotten there sooner-

A claw chipped, but Sesshoumaru continued. His hands became caked in dirt, powerful arms moving, muscles coiling to discard the clumps of earth quicker and quicker. He began to sink deeper, willingly descending into the same grave his beloved rested within.

By the time the ground loomed above Sesshoumaru's head on all sides- the sky a rectangular shape above, his clothes had become ruined with mud, brown patches covering his fine suit that he'd worn for the occasion, some dirt marring his sweat coated forehead and cheek.

'Thud!'

Sesshoumaru paused, knuckles having connected with something sturdy.

Panting, moisture stung his eyes. Wiping pebbling dirt away, Sesshoumaru unearthed the sleek brown casket.

"Thank you," he'd whispered into Mrs Higurashi's shoulder, clutching her so tight her bones protested. "Thank you for not cremating her."

Apparently her husband had been foreign, so it felt only right to leave Kagome in the earth, resting beside her Father's grave in the same manner he'd been buried.

Straddling smooth wood, Sesshoumaru flexed his dirt-laden nails, swiping at the secures. Once they were broken off, he stood, grasping one side.

Bracing himself, Sesshoumaru willed his stomach to hold. He tried to summon his old ironclad nerves. His thick skin. The warlord who had seen and smelled plenty of bodies.

Sesshoumaru cracked open the casket, immediately hit with a foul odour.

Choking, he opened it a little further, eyes burning.

The sight of her would be burned into the backs of his retinas forever, and Sesshoumaru knew he shouldn't have looked. Shouldn't have tortured himself thus, but he'd also needed to.

This was the cost of failure. Never let it happen again.

His stomach buckled, and Sesshoumaru clamped a hand over his mouth, shuddering violently. He swallowed a gag, clenching his jaw.

Yanking the casket cover from its hinges, Sesshoumaru tossed it high out of the grave, ripping Tenseiga out of its sheath at his hip while standing over her decaying body.

Letting his glamour melt from his features, golden eyes blazed, silver hair hanging limp and dishevelled. Youki burst into the blade, forcing it to awaken from its centuries-long sleep.

"Kagome," he rasped. "Revive Kagome," he commanded, the blade shining with a bright blue light.

His vision relaxed in order to see the spirits, but alarm clutched his heart.

The pallbearers were nowhere in sight. They'd long since made off with her soul, leaving behind a trail of chains.

With a deafening snarl that tore at his windpipe, Sesshoumaru thrust his free hand down, grasping a chain and pulling with all his might.

Something heavy out of sight made the chain yank taunt- filling him with hazy relief as he dared to hope he wasn't too late.

Clutching one side of Tenseiga's blade between his teeth, Sesshoumaru grasped the chains with both hands, reeling them back in toward him.

He could not see whatever it was he dragged back, the light Tenseiga cast into the spiritual plain only allowing him to see where the chains disappeared to a few feet in front of him.

A good length of slack metal chains had coiled at his feet by the time an outline was dragged into his vision. Kagome's soul still retained her body's appearance, lashes shut. It had a ghostly white glow, motionless. Chains wrapped around her midsection and torso. He quickly dragged her in closer.

Angry pallbearers yelled at Sesshoumaru, clutching onto her sides and hissing. They tried tugging her back in the opposite direction.

With a bellowing snarl, he savagely decapitated them with a swing from Tenseiga.

"I have not come this far only to be stopped by the likes of you," he sneered. Shifted down, Sesshoumaru wrapped an arm gently around her soul, only able to feel a very light sensation. His throat ignited with a harsh burn, eyes pricking, chest tight as he placed it back inside her body, pulling the chains away.

Tenseiga's blue glow faded. Kagome's body healed, the effects and smell of decomposition fading away until she lay as though asleep, flesh unblemished.

Silence deafened the grave.

Sesshoumaru panted softly, heart hammering. His entire being flared with an all-consuming buzz, an unanswered cry. His skin thrummed, hungry for her touch. He needed to hear her voice- he hadn't heard its playful, teasing lift in so long. If she wanted to sing badly or argue with him again, that was fine. He didn't care. Anything was better than this silence.

And why wasn't she opening her eyes? She'd had such lovely, captivating blue eyes.

"Miko," he gritted out, kneeling over her. "Kagome. Kagome…" her name fell from his lips like a mantra. He dropped the sword, gathering her into his arms, dipping his face into curling black hair. She felt so cold. Why was she cold?

Kagome had always been warm, glowing so bright and strong. His priestess had carried the force of a thousand suns in her palms when reiki had exploded from them. And at night… her breath had been hot and ragged on his neck as she'd careened them over the edge, moving atop his lap with fervour.

Sesshoumaru bent into her, arching her back and gripping her so tight he feared she may break.

"Please," he choked out, her hair becoming damp. He'd scarcely begged for anything before, but he prayed in that moment, the fabric of his soul screaming.

He felt it when her chest expanded.

Kagome drew a terrible, choking breath, gasping loudly like she'd been deprived of oxygen. Sesshoumaru immediately pulled away, eyes widening as she fell into a coughing fit, shuddering against him.

Her eyes squeezed shut, a hand lifting to massage the base of her throat.

"Ah… crap, what the heck? When was the last time I drank something?"

Blue eyes pried open to blink up at him, halting his breath.

Recognition softened her features. "Oh, hey you," she smiled, before blinking, gaze straying over his features. "Have you been crying? Why are you covered in dirt?"

Her attention threatened to stray to their surroundings but Sesshoumaru clamped his hands onto the sides of her face, colliding their mouths together.

He poured five hundred years of repressed feeling into that kiss, hand curling in dark hair to cradle the back of her neck. Kagome squeaked but accepted the feverish kisses, tongue meeting his and brushing.

"Wait-" she managed out between kisses. "I- how are you here?" her hands smoothed over his shoulders, touching his shirt. "Did you come through the well?"

Sesshoumaru gathered her close, standing from the casket. Kagome grew stiff in his arms.

"That's a...casket. This is a-" she broke off, breathing becoming thin. "Oh God- oh fuck- what the fuck?!"

Leaping out from the grave, Sesshoumaru landed on soft grass, collapsing to his knees and cradling Kagome on his lap, rocking slightly. He wasn't certain if the motion was to comfort her or himself. She made awful, wailing noises, choking on broken sobs. However after a little while, she swallowed the cries enough to cup his face.

"What- what happened?" she choked out. "You're here."

"I'm here."

He tried his best to explain everything- her departure and subsequent lack of return to the past. The rest were things Mrs Higurashi told him, such as her collision with another vehicle and few hours spent in the hospital unconscious before damaged organs finally failed her.

"I-I remember coming home and driving but nothing else," Kagome gripped him tight. "The Bone Eaters Well...is shut? I can't go through it to see my friends again?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"And you waited all this time," she mumbled, shuddering. "Alone."

"The kit and Inuyasha still live," Sesshoumaru felt her stiffen, stroking her head. "Inuyasha mated a full demon, extending his lifespan, while the kit is enjoying his bachelorhood right now."

Kagome closed her eyes, letting out a shuddering exhale. "That's something at least. I'm glad they're alive."

Too much to absorb all at once. Sesshoumaru no longer wished to discuss such things while beside her grave. He stood while lifting her in his arms, leaving the grave. Kagome glanced over his shoulder, panic and deep, static despair roaming around her scent.

"I was...buried. In there," she said softly, resting her clammy forehead against his neck. "T-thank you," she quivered, "thank you for coming to get me. I'm nowhere near ready to die yet."

"It was this one's failure that resulted in your death in the first place, miko. Do not thank me for attempting to right a wrong that should never have happened."

"What are you talking about?" Kagome's thumb brushed the shell of his pointed ear, reminding him to don the glamour before they left the graveyard. "It was no one's fault, Sesshoumaru. So you got the time wrong- big deal. Calendars change and it would've been hard to take different leap years into account. Besides, I should've been a more careful driver if we're gonna start laying blame," she offered a weak smile, which dropped when he did not respond.

Kagome leaned up within his arms, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. "Hey," she gently gained his attention, pressing another there, and then another.

Sesshoumaru returned her kisses softly, before tightening his grip, crushing her body against his. His mouth became an urgent pressure against hers, stealing her breath with ardent brushes of his tongue. He cradled her close possessively, trembling.

When they finally pulled away, a little breathless, Kagome rested her forehead against his. "After we see my family, let's go to your place. I don't want to wait any longer than I have to."

He blinked, tilting his head slightly. "For what?"

"To mate you, duh," she smiled, running a reverent thumb beneath his eye, lingering over the tired lines there. "You've waited 500 years after all."

"Kagome, you just awoke from death, and yet you are already planning on dragging me into the bedroom?" surprised exasperation lightened his worn expression, a film covering his eyes. Fondness. Love. Relief to be talking with her again. His strange, painfully unique human woman.

Kagome peppered butterfly kisses over his face, running them down his neck and feeling him purr against her in a way that belied how truly touch starved he was. But she could sense it. See it, from how he leaned slightly into the brush of her lips.

"Let's just say, I could really use a warm body against mine right now," she murmured, everything she didn't want to say left lingering in the air.

The phantom sensation of being locked beneath the ground would remain for a while; long after Sesshoumaru washed the dirt from Kagome's grave out from under his nails.

As they left the gravesite behind, they clung viciously tight to each other, never once looking back.

End

[galacticlamps]

im sorry im sorry im sorry i know it’s been well over a year but i accidentally thought about Short Trips: Deleted Scenes (again) and it’s killing me (again) so i think im just gonna go ahead and post all these stupid thoughts that have been plaguing me about it since i first heard it & maybe that’ll help clear up some space in my head for like, real life things.

Spoilers I guess? It’s like a year and a half old but also high key the most recent 2nd doctor content i believe we’ve gotten which is like, the only negative thing I can say about it

The TLDR version is this:

I literally cant believe how sweet it is? Painful, but sweet. Like. I don’t honestly know what’s more likely - did they set out to write Jamie a nice little straight love interest and just fail miserably at it by constantly likening her to the Doctor AND paralleling the Doctor’s perspective with her ex’s AND putting Jamie’s relationships with both of them in direct tension with each other while constantly letting his with the Doctor win out?

OR - did they do a very 1960s thing and say hey we’re gonna write what’s essentially a story about how much Jamie and the Doctor love each other and release it on Valentine’s Day thinly disguised as a one-off romance with a french lady?

Now, as a general rule, my attitude toward questions like that is usually “don’t know, don’t care, doesn’t matter” - and while I 100% stand by that, I also have to admit that this particular audio seems to pay enough attention to detail that I’d kind of think I was selling it short if I assumed too many of these things were just meaningless coincidences, you know?

Anyway, that’s the most coherent/overarching thought. And here’s a disorganized list of things I absolutely cannot get over about it (they don’t form any kind of argument, mind, they just all happen to live rent free in my head):

- Celine is first taken in by Jamie being an idiot (specifically him claiming not to speak French, in perfect French); likewise, her entrance in the scene where they actually kiss is marked with a little anecdote about her hat getting stuck on a doornail and her scolding it as she attempts to fix her un-tameable appearance, and the narration says Celine “would often clown for Jamie like this” - all of which, while undeniably adorable, don’t exactly strike me as entirely original traits to have been assigned to Jamie’s love-interest (but also Celine is so cool and her perspective on film/media/time is an excellent addition to the long list of dr who characters)

- When they’re in the present, describing Jamie’s relationship with Celine in 1908, they call him her “companion” and highlight his going nearly everywhere with her, which earns a laugh from the 4th doctor (and me as well, though probably for slightly different reasons - but like, is that really all it takes to have a fling with someone in 60′s era who? bc if so...)

- Celine’s ex-fiance is still in love with her and is jealously watching when she kisses Jamie ... and then the Doctor appears beside him, evidently doing the exact. same. thing. They have the following conversation:

“You know, it’s not prudent to spy on people. But then, people in pain can’t be expected to act prudently.”

“Pain, monsieur? You mistake me.”

“Ah, do I? Good, because I rather thought you’d lost something.”

“What would you know about loss monsieur?”

- I’m sorry doc but who do you think you are, saying stuff like that and smiling sadly at the floor to boot? I 100% had to pause it here the first time I listened, just to not throw my laptop across the room. 

- Then when I recovered continued, the Doctor closes the door so they can’t watch anymore and explains “Possessing things comes so terribly easily to some men that losing them can feel cruel, intolerably cruel. In my experience, only the very best of men cannot be tempted to answer that cruelty with more - I do sincerely hope that you are the best of men.” (guess who gets described as the best of men by the end of the audio?)

- Jamie and the Doctor apparently develop a habit of walking along the river in Paris in silence

- During one such walk, Jamie suggests Celine come with them since she already figured out about the Tardis - and when the Doctor’s worried by this, he says he only allowed Jamie & Celine to grow closer “because of Victoria.” Jamie takes offense at the ‘allowing it’ comment and also refuses to admit he knows what the Doctor means about Victoria, which leads the Doctor to say that he knows how fond Jamie was of her - he was too, of course, but with him, “it was different, wasn’t it?” Jamie only says maybe that’s true and maybe that’s not, but his voice catches until he changes the subject

- Jamie doesn’t see Celine for days both times that she’s recovering from the shock and depression of her work being destroyed. In contrast, when the Doctor’s not well, Jamie’s "afraid” and “guilty” and hardly seems to leave his side at all, if his being there “rushing to embrace him” the second he wakes up - after a period Jamie describes as “at least a week” - is anything to go by, anyway. so either bf writers need to learn how to write a committed straight relationship or admit that’s not what they ever intended in the first place

- Oh yeah, and the Doctor spends that week "asleep” in Jamie’s bedroom - no, there’s no explanation as to if that’s where he was when he first collapsed or if it’s where Jamie decided to take him bc why would they feel the need to explain him being there? why was it even relevant to tell us it was Jamie’s room in the first place?

- The Doctor somehow manages to control the Tardis enough to take Celine on one trip to an alien planet and then return to the correct time & place for her to use the footage she recorded there in her new film - and while the audio doesn’t do very much to explain how that was possible, it does treat this as A Pretty Big Deal, and immediately afterward the Doctor has to spend a week communing with his past self (and/or the Tardis?) debating how likely it is that the Time Lords could use this to trace him. When he decides it’s not worth the risk and they have to stop the film from ever being shown to the public, Jamie asks why he agreed to it in the first place, and all he can say is “Because, Jamie, you asked me to!” earning awkward stares from the crowd.

- Oh, but, lest we forget, that little outburst is also immediately followed by him putting his arm around Jamie’s shoulders, and, shockingly, apparently beginning to actually explain the truth about the danger from the Time Lords - until they’re interrupted, of course idk why exactly but the idea of a 60s dr wanting to come clean with a companion but not being allowed to bc the show demands the war games be something of a reveal hurts me in a very good way

- The mental image of “the Doctor and Jamie, resplendent in borrowed evening wear”

- The audio admitting that Jamie’s not very good at subterfuge, and the Doctor asking if he’s going to be alright with them having to steal the film back from Celine - and Jamie’s little “Aye, Doctor” as he feels a ‘glass arrow piercing his chest’ glad to see bf is reading all my letters about exactly how i feel any time something sad happens to james robert mccrimmon

- The Doctor’s anxious to get out of there for obvious reasons, but he hangs around bc Jamie wants to see Celine again - which doesn’t happen, because of her aforementioned shock & depression, but she does leave Jamie a note that ends “you and that Doctor of yours - look after him Jamie, he loves you dearly, as do I.” yeah, if you didn’t want people to draw a parallel there, you could’ve picked, like, any other wording in the world.

- In case you weren’t fully convinced I’ve been reading too much into this whole audio already, consider this: Celine dies in Long Island in 1968, three days before her birthday - 1968 is when this story would’ve taken place in the show’s history (between Fury & Wheel), and dying three days before/after a birthday in America seems a bit... well I had some deja vu from it, anyway

- Four of all people being the one to bring back the film - I know he does it bc Sarah Jane makes him, but personally, I often feel like despite the length of his run, 4 is the Doctor with which we might’ve gotten the fewest glimpses into his interiority, so the fact that it’s him and not one of the more overtly sentimental Doctors makes it feel like it carries even more weight somehow, to me anyway. I think I wrote a post saying roughly the same thing about 4 & Fate of Krelos/Return to Telos but maybe I only did that inside my own head lol. Still, I’m all for any opportunities for Jamie to be one of the few characters to draw some noticeable emotion out of Four, but in fairness I haven’t touched too much of his EU stuff to really be able to compare the frequency with which this happens with other past companions

- Is Four referring to Two or Jamie when he says he got the film from “an old family friend”? Two did the actual stealing, but he probably means Jamie’s involvement - either way, it’s an interesting way of describing old companions - or selves?

- When Jemima goes to call Jamie a thief, Four is “roused” to defend him: “he really was the very best of men” again, any time four freely shows he cares about someone, im over the moon about it

- Oh ha ha, there’s an audio called “Deleted Scenes” featuring the Doctor who’s most affected by junked episodes. And at the end of it, a character who’s spent her life researching and lecturing about a lost film gets to watch it be ‘rediscovered’ after it’s gone unseen for decades. I feel marginally less stupid for reading into the other details of a story like this when it ends up deciding to be to be clever & slightly meta like that

But yeah

all in all, it’s kind of amazing to me that this genuinely reads like they sat down and said okay boys it’s valentines day, let’s write an audio where jamie kisses a girl, since that hasn’t happened except as a plot device in one story in 1967 - but then when they got down to business they accidentally(?) wrote a story all about how important his bond with the Doctor is and how easily that can be compared to a legitimate love interest (even if the love interest in question is a one off character & the extent of the relationship appears to be like one kiss & then having Jamie spend most of his time around the Doctor instead)

I realize there’s something slightly illogical about writing the words “shipping aside” after a post like this but seriously - no matter how many categories you’re able to see two & jamie’s relationship fitting into, this is 40 minutes of big finish just hitting you over the head with how powerful/special/important that relationship is, and with them being two of my favorite characters, i really haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since

[ceealaina]

Title: Time May Change Me Collaborator Name: ceealaina Card Number: 3088 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Adopted - Time Travel (to the past) Ship: Stony Rating: E Major Tags: Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame, Endgame Fix-It, Friends to Lovers, Summary: A slight shift in timing during the time heist mission leaves Tony and Steve trapped in 1970. Stuck together while they try and work out a new plan, they instead start to see each other in a whole new light. Word Count: 13,609

It started to go wrong the way these things usually did for them — the second they split up. (You’d think by now they would have learned.)

Tony’s timing (hah, how fitting that time was working against them) had been off by seconds. He was just about to cut into the appropriate container, grab the Tesseract and get the hell out of dodge when he’d been interrupted. It probably could have been worse. At least he hadn’t been cut red -- or blue -- handed. But he was caught so off guard by being met with fucking Howard of all people that he hadn’t been able to find an excuse to stay, walking his father out and making bullshit conversation and feeling his heart sink deeper with every step further he took from the Tesseract. 

Steve hadn’t fared much better. He had, initially, gotten his hands on the Pym particles. But, distracted by a glimpse of Peggy, of seeing first hand the life she’d lived without him, he had hesitated a moment too long before leaving. He thought he’d made it out. He was outside and had signalled to Tony -- who was talking to his father, no way that was a good idea -- and was just waiting for him to join him when he heard shouts. Steve had to make a quick get away after that, leaving Tony to extricate himself as quickly and unsuspiciously as possible, and hope they’d manage to find each other again. Steve got away, but somehow the Pym Particles were lost in the process. Because that just seemed to be how their day was going. 

Tony found Steve a couple hours later, sitting forlornly on a bench in some little park. He’d abandoned most of his borrowed uniform in an attempt at disguise, leaving him in a white t-shirt and a pair of alarmingly high-waisted bell bottom pants that he’d gotten from god knew where. There were a few birds scattered by his feet and Tony resisted the urge to make a crack about old men feeding pigeons in the park as he flopped down onto the bench beside him. 

“Cheer up, Cap,” he told him, giving him a conciliatory pat on the shoulder. “It’s not so bad.” 

Steve lifted his head to glare at him, but it was half-hearted at best. “Not so bad?” he repeated. “Tony, I lost the Pym Particles.” 

“And I didn’t get the Tesseract.” 

“Oh, great, things are going to be just fine then.” 

“Wow. Sarcasm is not a good look on you, Rogers.” 

“I’m not in the mood, Tony. We’re trapped here, and apparently we don’t even have the thing we came for. It’s over, we lost.”

“Well... Not exactly.” At Steve’ confused stare, Tony gave a half shrug. “The good news is, we technically have all the time in the world. Once we get the particles, we can go right back to where we were when we left.” 

“We still have to get the particles,” Steve pointed out, but there was something almost resembling hope on his face. “And the Tesseract. And they’ll have stepped up security, if they think there was a breach.” 

“Yup,” Tony admitted. “And since bouncing in as Captain America Iron Man could probably result in some catastrophically timeline-altering bullshit, we’re probably going to have to play the long game.”

“What do we do in the meantime?” Steve asked. “It’s 1970, and we didn’t exactly come prepared. You technically haven’t even been born yet; I don’t think your driver’s license is going to fly. We’ve got no IDs, no money, and no place to stay -- SHIELD's list of safehouses isn’t going to cut it right now. How are we playing the long game?” 

Tony gave him a crooked grin. “I’m gonna tell you something, and I really need you to not judge me over this, Cap.” 

“Oh, this should be good.” 

“So back when I was thirteen and in my last years of high school, I was young, and bored, and…”

“A pain in the ass?” Steve supplied.

“Precocious.” Tony gave him a dirty look. “Point being, I may have run some scams, started selling fake IDs… Pre technology era, it was surprisingly easy, actually. Which probably doesn’t say much for the security of our country, but works out well for our purposes.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “You want to run scams selling IDs?”

“Well, the IDs would be for us, but basically… Yeah, at least until we get ourselves situated. Unless you got a better idea? I mean, stripping usually pays under the table. Not sure how prominent male strippers were in 1970, but I’m sure you could fetch a pretty penny with that ass.” 

Steve gave a long, pained sigh. “Nope. ID scams it is.” 

THREE MONTHS LATER 

Steve padded down the hall and into the avocado green kitchen that never failed to make his soul cry a little. Tony was already there, sitting at the kitchen table with a legal pad and a mechanical pencil, muttering to himself as he sketched out equations that Steve couldn’t even begin to process. Steve arched an eyebrow at him, beelining for the coffee pot; Tony’s bad habits were starting to rub off on him. 

“You get any sleep last night?” 

Tony waved his free hand in a so-so gesture before scribbling a few more numbers and looking up to give Steve a slightly crooked grin. “Couple hours.” He made a show of looking Steve up and down, and even though he should have been used to it by now, Steve felt a shiver run up his spine. “Cute shorts, Cap.” 

Steve rolled his eyes, shifting to tug at the super short hemline for the umpteenth time. “It’s July, Tony. It’s 90 degrees out there. And apparently this is what the 1970s have to offer for running shorts.” 

Tony leaned back in the chair, balancing it on the back two legs. “Hey, I’m not complaining.” He gave him a wink. “Seriously, Steve. You look good.” 

Instead of answering, Steve turned to the refrigerator, pulling out a carton of eggs. Since they’d been stuck here, there had been a million little things that Steve had barely even noticed in the future that he missed terribly now, and currently his Super Special Super Soldier Protein Bars (Tony’d had them patented in 2013) were topping the list. He was sure someone, somewhere would have Thoughts on his shifting priorities and how they reflected the Decline Of America, but energy bars were infinitely preferable to having to mix raw eggs into his orange juice, and there was no way around it. He had to pinch his nose as he knocked the drink back, trying to swallow as quickly as he could, but it didn’t do anything to mask the texture.

The sentiment was apparently shared by Tony, who made a face as he watched Steve3. “I could probably reverse engineer some kind of protein bar that meets your super soldier needs,” he offered. 

Steve gave him a fond smile. “I’ve had worse,” he told him, which was true, but not by much. “And I don’t think I’d trust your cooking. Anyway, I think I’d rather you reverse engineer a way for us to get the Tesseract.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Tony frowned back down at his legal pad and aggressively scratched out a few numbers. “I’m working on it.” 

Steve arched his eyebrows at him. “And I’m going for a run.” 

Tony waved him off, but as Steve headed back into the hall, he heard him call, “Bye, Cap! Hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave!” 

As he started his regular run through the winding streets of small town Jersey (ew), Steve’s mind started to wander the way it always did when he worked out -- even if he had to hold himself back to keep from attracting unwanted attention. And, the way it seemed to be doing more and more lately, as his worries took a backseat, his mind drifted to Tony instead. 

Steve couldn’t say exactly when things had changed between them. It had been the same as usual, at first, the two of them poking and prodding at each other. Steve respected Tony, always had after New York, and he was pretty sure Tony felt the same way about him. But they also knew how to push each other’s buttons, and didn’t seem to be able to stop doing it.

As the spring had dragged on, and their plans to get back into Fort LeHigh went exactly nowhere, and frustrations grew, Steve had expected things to get even worse between them. But instead the exact opposite had happened. Maybe it was the fact that he had a kid now, maybe it was the fact that it felt like the whole world was against them right now, nothing going right, and they were the only ones who had each other’s back. But Tony was different now, and Steve had a feeling that he probably was too. 

They had talked about it, once, after yet another tossed out plan. Tony had admitted how much this was weighing on him, how scared he was that this would fail, how many people were counting on them -- Morgan most of all. And then, in a voice that broke Steve’s heart, Tony had admitted that making the effort to get along with Steve made him feel a little bit better about failing to get them out of there. Steve had tried to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault, that coming to 1970 may have been Tony’s idea, but that he’d also been right about it being their only chance. But he knew Tony enough to know that that guilt wasn’t going to stop no matter what Steve said. So he made the effort to be kinder to Tony in turn. And somewhere along the way, it stopped being an effort and just became their relationship. They still teased and prodded at each other, but instead of antagonism, it was all fondness, Tony looking delighted every time he’d get a smile out of Steve. They argued too, sometimes, because they were still them, but the arguments were fewer and farther between, and more often than not they’d just fizzle out entirely until they could come back to it later and have an actual conversation instead. 

The team was his family, he loved and trusted them with every ounce of his body. But the little house he shared with Tony was starting to feel like home in a way that he hadn’t found since 1942. Steve knew he shouldn’t be getting too comfortable, that he was probably getting too complacent about their lack of progress. But it was easy to take heart in the fact that they’d be able to return to the same point in time. And he was enjoying the familiarity of their little life here. Tony had gotten a job at a local garage, kept making jokes Steve didn’t quite understand about how he was an actual mechanic now, and Steve had managed to pick up some freelance work drawing cartoons for the local paper. On the mornings when Tony hadn’t stayed up all night, Steve would start the coffee pot, making sure there was a fresh mug waiting for him when he dragged himself out of bed for his shift. And in turn, Tony would prepare dinner, because apparently cooking was a thing he’d learned in the past five years, more often than not making Steve’s favourites. They just knew each other now, things easy and familiar. Steve had expected to be bored, to be slowly going crazy with all the sitting around and waiting. But instead it was almost pleasant, like he’d been able to press the pause button on his life for one damn second. 

Apparently Steve Rogers was the domestic type, who knew? 

And then, of course, there were the other ways that Steve was starting to know Tony. Over the past few weeks, Tony’s teasing ogling had turned a little less… Teasing. Several times now, Steve had caught Tony staring at him when he thought Steve wasn’t looking, his gaze soft and heated and wanting in a way that made Steve squirm. And his comments on Steve’s body had an edge to them, a bit of truth to the words that hadn’t been there before. 

And, well, the house wasn’t big. Steve wasn’t going to pretend that he hadn’t heard Tony jerk off on multiple occasions, that he hadn’t strained his ears to listen for the whisper of his name on Tony’s lips, that he hadn’t then jerked himself off with a little more noise than he would normally, picturing Tony do the same. Maybe it was just the fact that it was only the two of them here together, but Steve couldn’t escape feeling that there was something building between them. 

***

The day had ended up being scorchingly hot, and Tony had picked up an extra shift at the garage, so Steve had cooked dinner. He’d never really bothered to learn to cook properly -- Tony liked to joke that his taste buds had been so ruined by Depression era food that not even the serum could save them -- but he could manage a few staples. He’d burned the first attempt at cheeseburgers, but the second set were better, and all the chaos was worth it when Tony shuffled into the kitchen, looking exhausted, only to inhale deeply and then positively beam. 

“Steve,” he declared, still in his mechanic’s coveralls as he slumped into one of the kitchen chairs with a cold beer in his hand. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I love you.” 

It was fully dark by the time they finished their meal. The windows and the kitchen door were wide open in the hopes of catching a breeze, and the sounds of the crickets outside filtered through the house. The heat hadn’t dissipated at all with the disappearance of the sun, giving everything a hazy, dreamy feel. Tony had unzipped the top half of his coveralls, leaving them hanging around his waist with only a threadbare white muscle shirt covering his chest. Steve kept having to look away but couldn’t seem to keep his eyes from drifting right back. Those coveralls were his number one weakness right now; he’d had multiple filthy fantasies about peeling Tony out of them. 

“Fuck, it’s hot,” Tony muttered, knocking back the last of his beer. His legs were spread on the chair, posture loose and easy, and Steve watched his throat bob as he swallowed. 

“You could go and change,” Steve pointed out, even as his dick screamed at him to shut up, that was the last thing he wanted. 

Tony sighed. “Yeah, but then I’d have to move,” he complained, offering Steve a grin. “Anyway, it’s my turn to do the dishes,” he added, not seeming to care that he’d just negated his last point entirely. 

“No, hey. You've had a long day,” Steve said. “I’ll do them.”

Tony hummed, considering. “You wash and I’ll dry?” 

“Done deal.”

Washing the dishes with Tony was one of his favourite chores, and tonight was no exception. They alternated between companionable silence as they worked, broken only by the gentle splash of water as Steve rinsed another dish, and easy chatter, nohing of importance, just dumb jokes and mindless anecdotes. 

“So then,” Tony concluded, giving a glass a half-assed swipe with his dishcloth and putting it away mostly wet. Steve thought about calling him on it, but didn’t. “It turned out that he’d somehow wired the radio to the headlights? And every time they came on, the radio would turn off. That’s why it wouldn’t work at night.” 

It wasn’t even that funny of a story, but Tony’s laughter was contagious. Steve turned to smile at him, and something in his chest caught. Tony was grinning, face lit up with humor and a hint of anticipation as he stared back at Steve. He had a lock of hair falling over his forehead, curling in the hot summer air, and he was still wearing those damn coveralls, biceps on display. Hardly aware of what he was doing, Steve let the dishcloth slip into the sink and curled a soapy wet hand around the back of Tony’s neck. He had a brief moment to notice Tony’s tiny shiver at the water on his skin, and then Steve leaned in and kissed him. Tony’s lips were warm and soft and slightly parted, practically inviting Steve to deepen the kiss, to suck gently on his upper lip. Tony made a soft noise in response, barely more than a huff of air, and all of a sudden Steve realized what he was doing. 

With a start he pulled back, almost immediately missing the touch of Tony’s skin beneath his fingers. “Oh god, I’m sorry,” he burst out, staring at the floor and pressing his fingers gingerly to his own lips, like he could hide what he’d done. “I don’t know what that was. It’s just the heat, and, and… You…” 

Stomach twisting with nerves, Steve chanced a glance up at Tony, expecting him to be upset, or angry, or even hurt for some reason. But instead Tony was just staring back at him with a soft, pleased smile on his lips. “It’s okay, Steve.” 

And sure, he probably just meant that he was forgiving Steve’s lapse of judgement, Steve knew that. But he could also be giving Steve permission, and so he leaned in, kissing him again. And when Tony didn’t shove him away, only sighed against his mouth and pressed his palms against Steve’s abs through his tight, white-t-shirt, Steve deepened it once more, pressing his tongue past Tony’s lips to taste him. His hands shifted to grip at Tony’s hips, thumbs sliding over the bare skin where his shirt didn’t quite touch his coveralls, and he was only half-aware of turning them until he had Tony pressed back against the counter, Steve looming over him and holding him in place. 

They were both breathing hard by the time he pulled back again, and Steve couldn’t stop staring at Tony. His hair was more mussed now, though neither of them had touched it, little strands curling around his neck and ears. His lips were red and swollen, eyes dark and heavy, and he was still giving Steve that soft smile. He tilted his head a little, squinting like he was trying to read him, and then he grinned. 

“Close the door, Steve.” 

Steve blinked at him, wondering if he was somehow so horny for it that a little kissing had completely fried his brain. “What?” 

Tony laughed softly, the sound sending something warm and pleasant furling through Steve’s stomach -- though that may have been helped by the way that Tony slid his hands up Steve’s chest, dragging over his tight nipples in the process, and fiddled with the collar of his shirt. 

“Shut the kitchen door, Steve. So we can go to bed.” 

Steve nodded, a little dazed, and reluctantly let go of Tony’s hips. He didn’t know if Tony meant to go to bed because if they’d reached this point it was time to call it a night, or to go to bed, but he moved over to the kitchen door. He could feel Tony watching him with every step, his gaze heavy on his back and setting Steve’s nerves into hyperdrive. He shut the door firmly, the click of the lock seeming thunderous in the weighted silence of the room. Swallowing thickly he turned back to Tony. 

“So, uh…” His voice sounded strange to his own ears and he trailed off, not sure what he even wanted to ask. Tony seemed to know though, giving Steve an amused smile. He held out his hand toward him. 

“Come on, handsome.” 

Steve moved back across the room, and curled his fingers around Tony’s. There were calluses on Tony’s hand, dragging against his own smooth skin, and Steve shivered at the sensation. There was a soft huff of laughter from Tony and then he was tugging gently on Steve’s arm, leading him down the hall toward their bedrooms. It felt hopelessly domestic, and something that had nothing to do with sex tugged at his heart. They didn’t speak, not even when they reached Tony’s bedroom door. Tony didn’t hesitate, his hand still clasped around Steve’s as he pulled him inside, and Steve was helpless to do anything but keep following. 

Tony led him over to the side of the bed, angling himself to face Steve as he sat down beside him. Steve’s breath caught as Tony locked eyes with him, running his hand lightly over his chest before he curled his hand in the cotton of his t-shirt, tugging at him gently until they were kissing again. Steve let himself melt into it, hyper-aware of every point of contact between them as heat flooded through his body. Steve let his hand slide over Tony’s ribs and the two of them tipped back against the mattress until they were lying side by side, sharing kisses so sweet they almost ached. One of Tony’s hands came up, running through Steve’s hair, and he shuddered against him, pulling back to look at Tony with heavy eyes. 

“Tony, what…” Steve tightened his hand against Tony’s waist, not wanting him to pull away. “What are we doing?” 

Tony huffed out another soft laugh, shifting closer until his chest was pressed to Steve’s. “I think that’s kind of obvious, Cap,” he told him, voice low and rough. 

Steve whined softly, his hand clenching against Tony’s side before he forced himself to loosen his grip. “What… What about Pepper?” he asked, because he couldn’t not. 

But Tony just smiled, unperturbed. “Don’t worry about it. We have an understanding,” he told him vaguely before pressing in closer. Steve could feel their lips brush against each other, unbearably intimate. “Just relax, Steve,” Tony hummed. “I want this. I think you want this too, right?” 

Steve nodded. “Yeah,” he said, voice rasping over the word. Tony beamed. 

“Then don’t worry about anything else.” 

Tony kissed him again, soft and slow, and Steve let himself sink into it, everything that wasn’t Tony’s lips on his fading from his mind. Tony shifted against him, pushing himself up on one elbow so he could press Steve onto his back, leaning over him. He moved his hand up under Steve’s t-shirt, and Steve gasped a little, abs flexing at the touch of his cool fingers. Tony grinned against his mouth, tugging at his lower lip. 

“There we go,” he hummed. “God Steve, you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to touch you like this?” He pushed at the fabric, movements getting a little sloppy. “Come on, gorgeous. Let me see you.” 

Steve felt hot all over, could feel his cheeks flushing red. He pushed himself up far enough to haul his t-shirt off over his head. 

“Oh yeah,” Tony breathed. “There we go.” 

Steve rolled his eyes, not bothering to hide his fond smile. “You know, you have seen me shirtless before,” he pointed out. “This morning, even.” 

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, but he sounded distracted, eyes locked somewhere around Steve’s nipples. “But it’s different now.” 

Steve arched an eyebrow, peering down his chest skeptically. “I didn’t run that hard,” he told him, voice teasing. 

Tony shook his head. “You’re not different. It’s just… Knowing I actually get to touch you, get to have you?” He visibly shuddered at the thought, and the idea of Tony wanting him that much sent something hot and squirmy rolling through Steve’s body.

“Tony, fuck,” he muttered, hips rolling up as he yanked Tony back down on top of him. Tony made a startled noise that shifted to groan as he ended up with Steve’s cock pressing into his hip.

“God,” he breathed, breath hot on Steve’s skin. He dragged his teeth over the tendon in his neck. “The things I wanna do to you.” 

“Please,” Steve moaned, sliding his hand down Tony’s back to squeeze at his ass through the coveralls. “Whatever you want, anything.” 

Tony grinned into his neck. “Whatever I want, huh? Never thought I’d hear those words coming from you, Cap.” 

Steve opened his mouth to offer some kind of retort, but bit out a string of curses instead as Tony’s thumb found his left nipple, rubbing over the pert flesh. Tony was barely touching him, just flicks of his fingers and teasing little brushes of skin on skin, but every point of contact was setting Steve on fire, feeling like it was on the cusp of too much. He let his eyes fall shut, hands clenching periodically over Tony’s ass and side as his cock throbbed in his shorts. 

“Tony, god, please. I want…” 

“What?” Tony asked, and his voice was thick and rough. Steve opened his eyes again to see Tony staring down at him hungrily, biting down hard on his lower lip. “What do you want Steve?” 

“Please,” he whined, dragging his hand back up to Tony’s hips to hold him in place while he rocked his hips up against him. “Wanna… Touch. Please.” 

He could feel the hot air of Tony’s breath as he laughed against his neck, and then he slid lower down Steve’s waist, sucking the nipple he’d already been teasing into his mouth. Steve didn’t even try to hold back his shout as Tony bit down on the tender skin. His body arched up into the touch, nearly unseating Tony entirely. 

“Christ,” Tony muttered. “You’re so fucking sensitive.” 

Steve whined as Tony’s warm heat left his body, but when he opened his eyes in protest, Tony was grinning at him as he stripped off his tank top. Steve let his eyes drag hungrily down Tony’s chest, noted the way he flushed a little in response, and then scrambled to arch his hips and kick his shorts off down his hips. Tony was doing the same with his coveralls, and distantly Steve felt a little disappointed that he hadn’t had the chance to peel him out of them himself. But then his cock was springing free, resting hot and hard against his belly, and Steve couldn’t stop himself from curling his hand around it, groaning in relief. 

It took him a minute to realize that Tony had stopped undressing, staring at Steve’s cock with heavy eyes and his lips parted. “Holy shit, Steve,” he ground out. Then he was kicking off the last of his clothes and moving to lean over Steve again, covering his hand with his. Steve gasped at the sensation -- he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had someone else touching him, and this was Tony -- and his cock grew heavier in their shared grip. “Fuck, Steve.” Tony bit down on his earlobe, hard, tightening his grip around him. “You gotta let me taste you, honey, please.” 

There was suddenly nothing that Steve wanted more and he whined a little desperately, catching Tony’s lips in a desperate, sloppy kiss before Tony moved down his body, kissing sporadically over Steve’s chest as he went. 

From the first flick of Tony’s tongue against the head of his cock, Steve was lost. He rolled his head back, knowing if he tried to look at Tony now he’d last all of five seconds. He panted up at the ceiling instead, body thrumming and over sensitive. The hot summer air was giving everything a dreamy, dazed feel, not quite real, and he gave himself over to the sensation, losing sight of time and what was happening, but hyperconscious of how good he felt, the way his skin lit up everywhere that Tony touched him. His mouth was hot and wet, swallowing around Steve over and over again, until he couldn’t focus on anything else. 

Steve had no idea how much longer it had been when he felt his balls draw up tight, his orgasm suddenly right there. He gave a ragged moan, patting clumsily at Tony’s shoulder. 

“Tony,” he mumbled, and he hadn’t thought he’d been screaming, but his voice sure sounded like it. “Gonna…” 

But Tony didn’t pull off, just swallowed him deeper. Wondering if maybe he hadn’t understood, Steve dragged his eyes open only to look down and find Tony staring back at him intensely. There was a look in his eyes like making Steve feel good was the greatest thing he had ever accomplished, and Steve couldn’t hold on any longer. Clenching his fingers in the sheets hard enough to ache, Steve spilled down Tony’s throat, cursing when that only made Tony swallow harder around him. 

When he’d finished, Steve collapsed flat on his back on the mattress, body limp and ears ringing. For a long moment he was only aware of his own breathing, his heart racing in his ears. And then he felt Tony shifting against him, opened his eyes to see Tony on his knees beside him, jerking off frantically. He was running his mouth again, but Steve couldn’t seem to focus on what he was saying, only catching bits here and there as Tony rambled about how gorgeous he was, how hot that had been, how he couldn’t wait to do it again, and again, and again. Steve couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from the sight of Tony’s cock moving through his fist. He was thicker than Steve had expected, the tip wet as it poked between his fingers over and over again. He wanted to touch him, taste him, but he could seem to find the energy to do much more than reach up, mirroring Tony’s earlier movements and curling his hand over Tony’s, feeling the rhythm of him jerking himself off. 

Tony’s eyes snapped to his, his face looking almost comically startled, and then he was making a strangled noise before he came across Steve’s chest. It seemed to go on forever and then he was collapsing onto his side, not quite touching Steve but close enough that he could feel the heat from his skin anyway. It was like second nature for Steve to shift his arm, stroking his fingers feather light up and down Tony’s back. 

He drifted for awhile, everything still having that hazy, unreal feel. At some point he’d been aware of the mattress shifting, Tony getting up only to return a few moments later, giving them both a cursory wipe down with a damp cloth. Distantly Steve had thought that maybe he should get up, return to his own room, that maybe Tony wouldn’t want him actually sleeping beside him. But before he could make a move, Tony had tossed the cloth in the direction of the bathroom and flopped down beside him again, this time slinging an arm across Steve’s waist. His skin was hot and sticky, but Steve couldn’t bear the thought of getting him to move.

He must have slept, because suddenly he was awake again, aware of the crickets chirping outside the open bedroom window and Tony breathing into his neck. His breathing was steady and even, but somehow Steve knew he was awake anyway. He wondered what he was thinking of, if he was just riding the high of an amazing orgasm, or if he was thinking of home, of his family. That made Steve think of Pepper again, wondering what exactly ‘an understanding’ meant, and he felt guilt twist low in his stomach. 

“Tony?” 

“Hmm?” Tony’s voice was soft but alert, and Steve drew in a deep breath. 

“What’s your ‘understanding’ with Pepper? Did you, I mean… You didn’t just say that so we’d keep going, did you?” 

Tony made a disgruntled noise and pushed himself up with the arm not draped over Steve. He stared down at him, eyes slightly narrowed, although he didn’t actually look offended. “What, you think I was so thirsty for it that I lied so you wouldn’t stop me from cheating on my wife?”

Steve winced; put like that, it sounded really bad. “Well, no. And I don’t know if you noticed, but I wasn’t exactly putting much effort into stopping you, I just…” He trailed off, giving him an awkward, helpless shrug. Tony blinked at him a moment longer and then flopped back down on the mattress, fingers drawing idle patterns over Steve’s abs. The silence dragged out between them and Steve was just about to do something to break it when Tony spoke, the words mumbled against Steve’s shoulder. 

“Pepper and I aren’t actually together anymore.” 

Steve blinked. “Oh,” he said, a little dazed. He didn’t know what he had been thinking, but that was the last thing he had expected. “Oh shit, Tony. I’m sorry.” He felt his heart sink. “Was it… Was it because you came back? To help us with the whole time travel thing, I mean?” 

“What? No! God no, nothing like that! Pepper was actually the one pushing me to do it. No, we, uh... actually... haven’t been like that for awhile.” 

He sighed, flopping onto his back and slinging an arm across his eyes. Steve immediately missed the weight of his arm across his middle, but he curled his hand around the back of Tony’s neck instead and waited patiently for him to figure out what he wanted to say. 

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “After I came back from… From space, things were different. It wasn’t anything she did. It probably wasn’t even anything I did, it was just… Different. Whatever we had wasn’t there anymore. She knew it too. But then she told me she was pregnant, had been before that squid-faced fuck arrived even. And I…” Tony pulled his hand away and rolled his head so he could look over at Steve. “I don’t know, Steve. For the first time since we lost, I remembered what hope felt like again.” He smiled, completely different from how he had smiled at Steve earlier, but just as warm. “She wasn’t even born yet, but Morgan was already saving my life. I wanted that baby more than I’d ever wanted anything in my entire life.” He snorted, his smile going uneven. “Even my dad’s approval,” he added, and Steve winced but Tony’s eyes were dancing. “So Pep and I talked and talked and talked and talked, and eventually we decided… Fuck it. We may not have been in love anymore, but we still love each other. We’re always gonna love each. And with all the shit we’ve been through together, we figured we could totally platonically coparent a baby.” He shrugged. “It’s been working out pretty fantastic, actually, but uh… Yeah. We haven’t been together in like five years so… You’re off the hook.” 

“Oh.” Steve nodded. “That’s good.” He knew he should have felt better knowing this and he did. But he also felt weirdly bad about it. He thought every day about what had happened when Thanos’s minions had arrived in New York, replaying it all over and over. This felt like just one more thing that he could have stopped, like maybe if he’d just been there they could have ended it before Tony ever went into space, and maybe Tony and Pepper would still be together. 

He didn’t say any of this out loud, of course, but Tony seemed to know something was up anyway. His eyes narrowed a bit before he rolled back onto his side, hand resting comfortably on Steve’s stomach like it belonged there. “Hey. Whatever you’re thinking? Stop. This really is for the best, I’m not lying. We still love each other, and it’s working really well this way. Honestly, I’m not sure what would have happened if we tried to do this as a marriage, but I don’t think it would have ended well. And anyway, the past is the past Steve. There’s no point in worrying about it because we can’t go back and change it.” 

Steve gave him a look. “We’re living in 1970, Tony.”

“Okay, but we’re not changing the past, we’re just… Borrowing from it. Well, if you ignore the idea that we’re making minute changes in time just by our ongoing existence here, and that the longer we stay the further those ripples will travel. But we’re not actively trying to change the past, and anyway, all of that should be negated when we eventually return the stones to their original point, so…” He waved his hand, giving Steve a sheepish smile. “Point being, I think we both did things we regret. Going over and over them isn’t going to help anything. Just gotta… Stop thinking about it and move on.”

Steve was quiet for a long moment, combing his fingers absently through Tony’s hair; it was oddly soothing. “I don’t think I can,” he admitted quietly. He gave a short laugh. “Tactical mind. I keep running through scenarios in my head. All the things I could have done differently, all the ways it could have played out instead… I can’t stop it.” 

Tony lifted his head to stare at him, eyes wide and horrified. “Still?” he demanded. “You’ve been carrying that around for the last five years? Jesus, Steve.” He shook his head, blowing out a long breath. “Okay, well. I know I can’t make that stop for you, but I can promise you that even if we can’t change the past, we are going to make up for it. We’re going to fix this, Steve. You and me, together.” 

Steve nodded, curling his arm tighter around Tony’s back as something in him eased a little. “Together,” he repeated quietly. 

***

Steve woke up the next morning alone in Tony’s bed. The air filtering through the window was already hot and humid, promising another sticky day. For a brief moment he was a little disappointed that he hadn’t woken up with Tony beside him, but he could smell bacon and coffee drifting down the hall from the kitchen, so he slid out of bed, hauling on the boxers that he’d left on the floor and padded down the hall to the kitchen. 

Like most mornings, Tony was working at the kitchen table, but he looked up as Steve came in and his expression went a little dazed as he took in Steve’s barely dressed state. “Uhh.” Tony made a punched out noise before he seemed to get himself under control, offering Steve a broad grin. 

“Morning, Cap,” he said, voice sounding a little raspy like… Well, like he’d been sucking cock. Between that and his obvious appreciation of his body, Steve felt his dick twitch in his shorts. He shifted a little, giving Tony a bright smile in return. 

“Hi Tony,” he said, moving over to the coffee pot. He could feel Tony’s eyes on him as he poured the mug and when he turned back around it took a minute for Tony’s eyes to drag back up from he’d been staring at his ass. Steve couldn’t help his pleased little grin as he sat across from Tony at the table. “Any progress?” he asked, nodding at the legal pad covered in Tony’s weird shorthand.

Tony shrugged, but he didn’t even glance at the paper, eyes trained on Steve. “Same as usual,” he told him, taking another swallow of coffee. “Surprisingly hard to hack a security system that hasn’t been automated yet. And they’ve really stepped up their shit.” He eyed Steve, tilting his head a little. “You going for your run this morning?” 

Steve shrugged, glancing down at his mostly naked state and grinning ruefully. “I mean, I might put on a few more clothes first, but yeah, probably…” He eyed Tony, who was ogling him again. “Why?” he asked, voice a little lower. 

Tony slunk a little lower in his seat, eyes going dark as they locked with Steve’s. “I don’t have to go to the garage until a little later this morning, since I worked late yesterday and everything.” He grinned then, eyebrows waggling. “Wanna do a different kind of cardio this morning?” 

They didn’t actually make it to the bedroom this time, only getting as far as the kitschy sunken living room before Tony got his hand in Steve’s boxers and the two of them collapsed to the ground in an uncoordinated heap. Tony jerked him off right there, whispering filthy things into his ear until he came. Steve had barely caught his breath before he was shoving Tony onto his back so he could return the favor. 

Afterward, they both lay splayed out on their backs, panting up at the ceiling. Steve hummed, vaguely aware of Tony squirming around beside him. “I never noticed that crack on the ceiling,” he said. “Should have asked for a discount from the realtor.” Tony giggled, right in his ear, and Steve realized that all the squirming had been so he could move closer to Steve, pressing up against his side despite the heat and slinging a leg over his hip. 

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time we get trapped forty years in the past and have to buy a house together,” Tony promised, giving a contented little sigh against Steve’s neck. It was strangely comforting having him close like that, leaving Steve feeling settled. He curled his arm around Tony, rubbing over the bare skin at his hip. 

“It this… A thing now?” he asked. 

There was a long moment of quiet from Tony before he answered, like he was choosing his words carefully. “It’s… Whatever you need it to be, Steve,” he settled on at last. Steve wasn’t entirely sure where that left them, but for now he would take it.

***

Tony whistled to himself as he rooted around in the engine of the Dodge Challenger, in a ridiculously pleasant mood. He was genuinely enjoying working as a mechanic; it was good hands-on work, helping to keep his brain calm, but there was a simplicity to the older engines that he had always preferred. There was a reason he’d kept so many classics in his own garage. It was more than that too though. Since he and Steve had started sleeping together, things felt brighter somehow. The urgency that had been plaguing him since they had fucked up their first time heist, the sense of panic that he had been trying to hide, it had all faded. He was still worried, of course, still working on a new plan, but it didn’t feel so hopeless now. Between the two of them, he knew they’d get it done. 

Tony had moved to grab a wrench from the workbench when Joe wandered out of the office, leaning against the doorway. “Barbecue and beers at my place Saturday night. All the fellas are coming. You in?”

“Oh.” Tony couldn’t help his grin. He still wasn’t entirely used to his coworkers seeming to just like him, not wanting anything from him because, as far as they knew, he didn’t have anything to offer. “Yeah, sounds great!”  

He turned back to the car, but Joe didn’t move away. Tony could feel his eyes on him, and he turned back, eyebrows arched expectantly. 

“You know…” Joe hesitated another moment. “My brother never married. His roommate comes with him to family dinners and for Christmas. Charlie’s a great guy, and he and my brother have a really nice life. No one here would give you grief if your… roommate came along for a drink, is all I’m saying.” 

Tony blinked, not quite sure what to do with that. “Oh. Uh, thanks. I will… Let Steve know.” 

Joe gave him a warm smile then, followed by a quick pat on the back before he headed back into the office without another word. Tony turned back to the car, utterly nonplussed. 

“Steve’s not my boyfriend,” he grumbled at the engine, but even as he said the words, his stomach twisted a little and a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Pepper yelled, ‘liar!’ He blinked down at the mechanics beneath him, thought of how they ate dinner together every night, how long they could spend talking and laughing together, the animosity left over from the last few years faded entirely. How the sex they had could just as often be considered, well, love making, as much as he hated that particular phrase. Tony felt something catch in his chest. “Oh shit, is Steve my boyfriend?” 

When he laid it all out like that, like an equation to be solved, it definitely sounded like a relationship. But even bigger, when he focused on Steve’s face, really pictured his smile and his laugh, he felt something in his belly go warm and soft. He didn’t know how he had missed it before, but it was the same feeling he used to have when he thought of Pepper, and Rhodey before that. Tony groaned, sinking forward against the edge of the car. 

“Oh god,” he muttered. “I’m in love with Steve Rogers.” 

The rest of his shift passed in a blur, Tony caught off guard and a little overwhelmed. The thing was, when he really stopped and thought about it, these feelings weren’t exactly new. In fact, he had a feeling that even while he’d been completely in love with Pepper, and even when he and Steve had been at their absolute worst, there’d been a part of Tony still a little in love with Steve. The way they’d worked so intuitively together, even when they were at odds, the way they’d be so in sync over the weirdest things… there’d always been a spark there. And now alone together, able to talk, and relax, and really take the time to understand each other, he supposed it made sense that that spark would grow into something real. 

When he finally wandered in the front door, mind still a bit of a wreck, Steve was standing in the kitchen, cooking them dinner, which looked like it consisted of panned fried hamburgers and… Tomato soup, for some reason. He must have heard the door, but he didn’t look up, humming to himself as the meat sizzled in the frying pan. His hips were swinging a little in rhythm to whatever song he had playing in his head, and his shoulders were loose and relaxed, carrying exactly none of the tension that Tony typically associated with Steve. The whole scene was hopelessly domestic, and Tony wanted nothing more than to step up behind Steve, wrap his arms around his waist and kiss the back of his neck, just to see the squirmy little ticklish shoulder shrug that he would get in response. He was totally gone for the man. 

“Aw, fuck,” Tony muttered to himself. 

Steve did look up at that, looking over at Tony with a bright smile. “Hey Tony.” 

“Hey honey, I’m home,” he answered automatically, getting a chuckle out of Steve before he frowned at Tony a little. 

“Hey, you all right? You’re looking a little stressed.” 

Tony waved him off, stripping off the top of his coveralls and noting the way Steve’s eyes went dark at the sight -- it hadn’t taken him long to realize that Steve had a thing for this particular look. “Just a long day,” he reassured him, hopping up on the counter beside Steve. He made a grab for some of the cooked burger and got his hand swatted with the spatula for his trouble. “Wow, domestic abuse,” he deadpanned. 

Steve rolled his eyes. “What a drama queen,” he retorted, equally dry. “They’re almost done, just a few more minutes. Then we can sit down, and you can tell me allll about your long day.” He looked back up to give Tony a lecherous look. “Or not, and we can just skip to the part where I make you feel better,” he offered, waggling his eyebrows and looking pleased when Tony snorted.

Tony was quiet a moment, watching Steve’s hands manipulate the food. “Hey, Steve?” he said finally. “Can I ask you a question?” 

“Shoot.” 

Tony fluttered his eyelashes at him, not wanting it to come across too seriously, in case he was reading everything all wrong. “Are you my boyfriend?” he sing-songed.

Steve choked on his own spit, coughing for a minute, but when he’d caught his breath back he was grinning like an absolute idiot. “I mean, I guess, sure,” he offered. “I hadn’t given it much thought.”

Tony arched an eyebrow at him; he knew Steve well enough to know that the flush on his neck said otherwise. 

“Okay, I’ve maybe thought about it once or twice,” he admitted sheepishly. “We can be, uh… Boyfriends, if you want. Like you said, this is whatever we want it to be. I know these are weird circumstances, but if we want to, we can call it boyfriends for now.” 

For just an instant Tony felt his smile freeze on his face, but he masked it quickly, leaning forward to give Steve a sloppy kiss on the cheek before he could read the look in his eyes. “In that case, boyfriend, call me when dinner’s ready. I’m just gonna wash up.” 

He slipped off the counter and headed down the hall for the bathroom, adding an extra wiggle to his walk to make Steve laugh. But once he hit the bathroom, he shut the door behind him and leaned back against it with a sigh. Boyfriends for now pretty much said it all. He probably shouldn’t have been surprised. These were wild circumstances. There was nothing wrong with Steve wanting to take a bit of comfort where he could find it. And if Tony had been hoping for something more, that could stay between him and the bathroom walls. 

***

They didn’t talk about it again, at least not in so many words, but they talked about everything else under the sun and that was somehow even better. Steve loved sex with Tony, really truly did. Just a look from the other man could set him shivering, heat spiking up and down his spine. Tony seemed to take special delight in finding all the ways he could make Steve fall apart, surprising him over and over again. Steve had all but given up his own bedroom, spending his nights with Tony instead and they’d spend hours lying there sometimes, Steve splayed out and feeling like he was slowly going out of his mind as Tony kissed and touched and teased every square inch of his body. 

But afterwards, when Steve had come more times than he’d thought possible, when Tony’d had his fill and would slide off Steve to stretch out beside him instead, for Steve that was almost better than the sex. They’d talk well into the early hours of the morning. Steve had told Tony how desperately lonely he’d been for the past five years, how nothing he’d done seemed to ease that ache inside him. Tony talked about Morgan, how completely he missed her, telling story after story about how brilliant she was already, putting him to shame, but also how creative and sweet and kind. He’d sound awed when he talked about her, which had led to confessions about how his own father had been. Steve had been horrified, hands tightening around Tony like he could somehow make up for it. And then next night, when he told Tony how proud he was of him for letting the bullshit die with Howard, that even from the brief interaction he’d witnessed, he could tell Tony was an amazing father, Tony hadn’t bothered to hide the way he’d choked up a little. 

Nothing was off the table (except, perhaps, their exact feelings for each other, but neither of them brought it up so it was fine), the darkness, and the heat, and the fact that they were the only two here who could understand their situation making it easy for secrets to spill out. Maybe it was just the fact that they were caught in a bit of a limbo, that deep down Steve knew that nothing they did here would really matter once they got back to their proper point in time. But his time with Tony was easing something inside him that he hadn’t even realized was aching, was making him feel whole again. He wanted to get back, to make things right, of course he did. He just also couldn’t help thinking that he wouldn’t mind being stuck here with Tony just a little longer. 

They slowly settled into even more of a routine than they’d had before. They ate dinner together every night, talked about their day before they’d slink off to bed together. Some nights they wouldn’t even do anything, just sprawl out on the bed, touching despite the heat until they drifted off to sleep. They went grocery shopping together once a week, and one day Tony came home with a second hand badminton net that he’d found somewhere. Steve had never played badminton, but they set the net up anyway, and Tony had showed him how to play. There were more barbecues, with the guys from Tony’s work, mostly, but there were a couple for the paper that Steve worked at too. Nobody seemed to look askance at Steve bringing along his roommate. Maybe it was just an extension of fighting side-by-side for so long, but having Tony with him here just felt right in some kind of visceral way that Steve couldn’t put a name to but that he loved anyway. 

***

Steve was once again going over the Fort LeHigh plans that they had managed to cobble together, when the front door slammed open. “STEVE!” Tony hollered at the top of his lungs. 

“I’m right here,” Steve answered, turning to meet Tony as he heard him rush up the hall. “What’s wrong?” 

But even as he asked, Tony came into view, an enormous smile on his face, and it was pretty clear that there was nothing at all wrong. 

“What?” he asked again, because there still had to be a reason that Tony was home hours early, grinning like an idiot. 

“I can’t believe I forgot,” Tony told him. “Do you know what tonight is?” he added, even though he knew perfectly well that Steve didn’t. “Planet of the Apes comes out. In theatres!” 

Steve blinked at him. “Is that all?” 

“Is that all?” Tony repeated incredulously. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” 

Steve cracked then, laughing. “Tony, you’ve seen that movie more than a hundred times. Which I know because you’ve made me watch it a hundred times.” 

“Yeah, but this is different,” Tony insisted. “It’ll be in theatres, Steve.”

“You’ve done that before, too,” Steve pointed out. “Remember? That 45th anniversary theatre showing or whatever? I distinctly recall you and Colonel Rhodes talking about it.” 

Tony just shook his head. “It’s different,” he said again, making a face at Steve. “Just hurry up and get dressed, you damn dirty ape.” He waggled his eyebrows, making a show of staring at Steve’s bare chest; he hadn’t bothered getting redressed after his run. “I’m taking you out.” 

And really, Steve was helpless to resist that thrilled look on Tony’s face. And even though he had to pinch Tony several times to keep him from whispering the lines along with the characters, it was a very enjoyable evening. They’d sat at the back of the theatre, Tony claiming it was because Steve would block the view for whatever poor asshole got stuck sitting behind them, but halfway through the movie, when their shared popcorn was gone, he curled his greasy fingers with Steve’s, rested their joined hands on Steve’s knee, and snuggled into him a little, resting his head against Steve’s shoulder. He could smell the faint, pleasant scent of Tony’s shampoo, and couldn’t resist turning his head a little to press his face against the soft curls of his hair. He pressed a soft kiss against Tony’s scalp and in return received a soft little content sigh from Tony. 

Abruptly Steve realized that, for all the activities they’d done together, they hadn’t been on an actual proper date before -- and that’s what this was, whatever Tony’s original intentions had been in dragging him out. 

Settling a little more comfortably against Tony’s side, Steve decided that was something he was going to fix immediately. 

So the next morning, after Tony had made their customary Saturday morning pancakes, and they were sitting around the kitchen table, pleasantly full and content, Steve curled his hand around Tony’s. “So listen,” he said, doing his best to ignore the way Tony gave his hand a heated look before glancing up to meet his eyes. “I’ve been thinking, and we’re under a lot of stress, with working and trying to find a way out of here and everything.” Admittedly, it wasn’t his best excuse; the stress was real, but he felt a step removed from it, and was pretty sure Tony did too. Even from a purely business perspective (if you could consider the Avengers a business), this had definitely become the easiest mission he’d ever been on. Tony seemed to agree, giving him a mildly skeptical look but gesturing for him to continue. “So I was thinking that it probably wouldn’t hurt for us to plan to take a break regularly,” he said, feeling his cheeks starting to glow. “And I had a really fun time last night, so I was wondering if you’d let me take you out tonight? Repay the favour?” he added, all in a rush. 

Tony tilted his head at him, curiously, and then he was beaming bright and wide. “Steve. Are you asking me out on a date?” 

Steve shrugged, but he was helpless not to return Tony’s brilliant smile. “I mean, I guess?” 

And just like that, Saturday night date night was born. 

Steve knew he shouldn’t get too complacent, that getting used to this was only going to end in heartbreak. Tony had said this was whatever they needed it be, just whatever it took to get them through. The implication was pretty clear that once they got back home -- and they would, eventually, Steve had to believe that or else what were they even doing anymore -- things would go back to something like normal. He probably wasn’t doing himself any favors, giving himself this glimpse of what they could really have. But he knew, deep down, that he wasn’t going to be able to forget it either way, so he figured he might as well enjoy it now. 

***

Tony actually happened to think vegetables were delicious. But there was something about the very specific look of consternation that Steve would get every time he found another box of poptarts or gummy candies or whatever hidden in the cart that Tony couldn’t get enough of. He was feeling punchy today for some reason, snickering to himself with everything he managed to slide into without Steve noticing. There was a good chance that Steve was just humoring him, since Tony couldn’t imagine anyone actually sneaking something past the man, but then again he’d worked with the STRIKE team for almost a full year without realizing they were literal Nazis, so who knew? Either way, he was having a stupid amount of fun with it. 

“Oh my god,” Steve groaned as he realized that under the loaves of bread and packages of pasta, Tony had managed to fill the entire bottom of the cart with bags of jumbo marshmallows. “You are literally five years old,” he added. 

Tony just shrugged, giving Steve a sugar sweet smile, and Steve fought back his own laughter. 

“Make you a deal,” he offered. “You can keep three bags of marshmallows if you stop adding in everything else you see.”  

“Oooh.” Tony eyed him; he didn’t actually care about the sweets, but tormenting Steve was its own brand of delightful, especially now, when Steve took it as the gentle teasing it was meant to be, didn’t get his back up about it. “Throw in some chocolate and graham crackers, and you’ve got yourself a deal.” 

Steve stared blankly back at him. “What do you need graham crackers and chocolate for?” 

“Steven Grant Rogers,” Tony hissed. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t know what s’mores are?” 

Steve didn’t even last a full second before he was breaking, snickering to himself. “You’re so gullible sometimes. I may not have ever had them, but I do know what a s’more is, Tony.” 

Tony frowned, tilting his head before shaking. “Okay, nope, I give. I can’t tell -- are you telling the truth, or are you still fucking with me?” 

“The… Truth?” 

“You’ve really, honestly never had a s’more before? How is that even possible??” 

Steve gave him a fond eye roll, even as he added the extra ingredients to the cart. “Contrary to what you seem to think, I wasn’t ever actually a boy scout. There weren’t any camping trips in 1930s Brooklyn. Where do you think I would have melted the marshmallows? On the heater? Admittedly, I spent a lot of time in the woods during the war. But that wasn’t exactly a romp with campfires and ghost stories, what with the whole hiding from the Nazis and Hydra thing.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Tony muttered. “But after that? You’ve really never had s’mores since? With the team or something? Nat seems like she’d enjoy a good s’more.” 

Steve just shrugged. “Don’t know what to tell you. Never had ‘em.” 

“Well, that changes tonight, Rogers. We’re having a bonfire.” 

Tony had added three packs of hot dogs to the cart -- Steve would eat them, he knew -- and after they got home, relegated him to the kitchen while he got everything set up in the yard. Steve had looked skeptical, but when Tony finally called him out to where he had a bonfire burning brightly and a blanket spread out on the ground (because some of us have minor grass allergies, Steven), he looked impressed. 

“Wow. Tony, this is… Really nice.” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to sound so surprised,” he grumbled, offsetting his complaint by wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and kissing him on the cheek. 

“No, I’m not,” Steve said, holding Tony against him a moment longer when he started to pull away. “You just… Don’t really seem like the camping type,” he added tactfully. 

Tony snorted. “I’ve camped! … Once… Okay, a camper I am not. But Rhodey and I used to have bonfires on the beach when we were at MIT, and I was the designated fire starter. And when I was a kid, Jarvis used to let me help set up the fireplaces in the old house. I don’t know why, that was one of my favourite things.” He hummed, quiet and contemplative for a moment, and then pulled away to grab a package of hot dogs, slamming them into Steve’s chest. “Now grab a stick, Rogers, and start roasting.” 

They sat out there for hours, cooking, and talking, and laughing. The sun had faded and the stars had come out long before Tony pulled out the s’mores ingredients, the two of them getting in a sticky mess as they squashed together the sweet treats. 

“So?” Tony asked when they were full and satiated and sitting back on the blanket. He arched an eyebrow at Steve. “What’s the s’more verdict, Captain Handsome?” 

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know, I think they’re kind of overrated. I prefer the marshmallows alone,” he told him, popping one of said marshmallows, unroasted, into his mouth. 

Tony blinked at him. “Overrated?” he repeated incredulously. Then he saw the way that Steve was grinning at him, lips twitching up in a smirk. “You are such a troll,” he grumbled. “I’ll show you overrated.” Without any further warning, he launched himself at Steve, feeling a little gratified at the almost inaudible grunt that Steve made as he took his weight. He knew Steve could take him easily, especially when he didn’t even have an Iron Man suit, but Steve pretended otherwise for a minute, letting Tony knock him back as the two of them rolled around on the blanket and then into the grass, each trying to get the upper hand. 

It didn’t take long before their movements shifted, less wrestling, more sliding up against each other with purpose. Tony could feel his cock thickening in his pants, sparks of pleasure going through him every time Steve’s hand would slide over his skin just right. He shifted a leg, getting it between Steve’s knees, and when he pressed up he could feel Steve hot and hard against him, the feeling made better by the sharp, needy little gasp that he made in response. They ended up with Tony spread out on top of Steve, the two of them rubbing off against each other as they shifted and rolled in the grass, stifling their noises against each other’s skin so the neighbours wouldn’t hear. Tony had his hand shoved down Steve’s pants, jerking him off with quick, sharp motions, and his face buried in Steve’s neck. He could smell wood smoke in his hair, and when he pulled back a little, he could see the starlight reflected in his eyes before they clenched shut as Steve came over his hand. Steve lay there for a moment, panting, and Tony took a moment to look him over in the dim light from the fire before Steve pulled himself back into awareness to roll Tony over onto his back and pay him back in kind. 

It was up there with some of Tony’s best memories.

He should have known it wouldn’t last. 

***

They were at the grocery store again, goofing off and being idiots, probably laughing too loud, when all of a sudden Steve froze, going pale. Before Tony could ask him what was wrong, he was grabbing Tony’s arm and dragging him around the corner and down an aisle, leaving their half-filled cart abandoned in front of the cereal. 

“Steve, what?” Tony finally managed to hiss as Steve pulled him past the baking supplies and then zig-zagged ridiculously through the produce section. He half expected Yakety Sax to start playing over the loudspeaker.

“I just… I saw someone I recognized. Like from the forties recognized,” Steve answered vaguely, aiming for the front door. 

“Do you think they’d recognize you?” Tony asked a little stupidly, although his behaviour made the answer pretty obvious.

“Uh, yeahhhh,” Steve answered anyway. “I think so.” 

They made it out of the building without being caught though, Steve looking over his shoulder as they headed down the street. He made Tony cross the road, turning down a side street they wouldn’t normally take, and he was just breathing a sigh of relief when they rounded the corner and were met with Peggy, standing there waiting for them with a furious expression on her face. 

For a long moment everything went almost comically still, Peggy and Steve standing frozen, staring at each other, Tony looking back and forth between them in a mild state of shock. Then the anger seemed to fade out of Peggy all at once, shoulders sagging a little as she took a half step forward, making an abortive gesture like she was going to touch Steve’s chest before she remembered herself. 

“It is you,” she breathed. 

Steve opened his mouth to say something, anything, but before he had the chance he was interrupted by Tony, still staring at Peggy with wide eyes. “Aunt Peggy?!” he blurted out, because he knew Peggy had cofounded SHIELD, and he knew she had worked with his Dad, he just somehow hadn’t expected her to be here, looking almost exactly as he remembered her from when she’d come visit when he was growing up. She used to spend hours sitting with him, listening patiently as he explained the workings of all his machines and inventions. She’d always encouraged him, and he found himself getting choked up seeing her now.

And then he glanced over at Steve, saw the look on his face as he stared back at her, and Tony felt his heart sink a little.  

Peggy had turned sharp eyes on Tony at his outburst, looking him over, but now she looked back to Steve and without hesitation poked him square in the chest. “Explain,” she told him. “How are you possibly here? And why is this man who looks exactly like Maria Stark calling me ‘aunt?’”

Tony would never fully understand how, but somehow Steve managed to convince Peggy to come back to their place. And then he sat her down, and told her everything. How he’d been found in the ice, how the avengers had formed, about Tony being her ‘nephew’ and also Iron Man, and then about Thanos, how they’d lost everything and were doing everything in their power to make up for it now. 

The one thing he didn’t mention, Tony couldn’t help noticing, was the relationship they’d developed over the last few months. 

Peggy took it far better than Tony would have expected. Although, he supposed, if she’d helped found SHIELD, she’d probably been dealing with far crazier shit than this for years. 

“So if I’m to understand correctly, you two are from the future. And you,” she turned to Tony here, “Are my godson. And you used Hank Pym’s… science experiment to figure out time travel and come back here and get that cube that Howard found in the ocean. To save the world.” She drew in a long breath as Tony and Steve both nodded, waiting for her to process the information. “God, Hank is going to be impossible to live with when he finds out,” she muttered. She drew in a deep breath, smoothing down her hair -- a move Tony remembered from when she’d try to keep her cool with Howard when he was a kid -- and then looked back over at Steve. “I take it you two are responsible for the breach a couple months back?” She didn’t wait for their confirmation, the question rhetorical. “Well, I suppose once again it’s up to me to clean up your messes, eh Captain?” 

The smile she gave Steve was a little dry, but fond and familiar in a way that made jealousy twist low in Tony’s stomach. But even worse was the way Steve smiled back at her, sheepish and full of so much history and love that it almost ached to see. For a moment Tony felt like he had disappeared from the room entirely, the two of them only having eyes for each other. Somehow Tony managed to act normal as Steve and Peggy made plans for when and where they’d meet and how they’d stay in contact, even though it felt like he was losing a little more of Steve with every word that passed between the two of them. And when Peggy had left, and Steve turned to him with the broadest grin Tony had ever seen, still looked awed and dazed and delighted in the wake of her presence, the smile Tony gave him in return was almost genuine. He waited until Steve had left the the kitchen, wandering down the hall for something, before he pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes and whispered a very quiet, very heartfelt, “Fuck,” into the empty room. 

***

Tony wanted to go home. More than anything in the world he wanted to see Morgan again, missing his little girl a constant pit in the bottom of his stomach, even in his happiest moments. But being here with Steve was easy in a way his life had never been before, no stressors, no superheroing, no being recognized on the street… No end of the world barreling toward them faster than they could stop it. Now that they were close to going home, he couldn’t seem to appreciate the last few days they had here together, just he and Steve alone. They still talked, and fooled around, and did all the things they’d been doing before, but the time was passing in a blur. It didn’t help that Steve had been distracted since they’d found Peggy; more than once Tony had caught him staring into space with a soppy smile on his face. There was a growing feeling creeping through his stomach that he might be making the return trip solo. 

And then he was out of time entirely, the two of them meeting Peggy in some back alley for the hand off. It had, she assured them, gone off without a hitch, but that wasn’t a surprise. Peggy had always been strong and brilliant, confident and capable. On some level it probably should have been weird that he was jealous of his aunt, but mostly Tony was just resigned to the fact that this was it. Peggy and Steve were staring at each other again, couldn’t keep their eyes off of each other, and Tony felt like his heart was somewhere around his ankles. 

“I’ll, uh, I’ll let you two… Chat,” he mumbled, uncharacteristically awkward as he took the two briefcases that Peggy had brought and headed for the main road, forcing himself not to look back at them. 

In a weird twist of deja vu, he ended up sitting on the same bench where he’d found Steve on that first day, after everything had gone tits up. He sat there, staring off into space and thinking of a million things at once, and it hadn’t been a full half hour before a shadow passed over him and then Steve took a seat on the bench beside him, their thighs not quite touching. 

Steve was staring forward, maybe trying to figure out what Tony was looking at but he hadn’t spoken, so Tony didn’t either. Eventually, though, he couldn’t stand the silence any longer, clearing his throat. 

“You, uh… You don’t have to come back with me, Steve,” Tony told him, giving him an out. He felt Steve snap his gaze to him, heard him make a strangled sort of noise, but he narrowed his focus to a tree in the distance and kept going. “If you’re finally happy… We can do it without you. Probably. Maybe. I don’t know, we’ll figure it out. I know you’ve already sacrificed a lot, more than anyone ever should have to, really. You can be selfish, for once.” 

He turned to face Steve then, because he really didn’t want Steve to stay, but he needed him to know that he truly meant the words he was saying. He had fallen in love with Steve, and because of that he couldn’t bear to stand in his way. 

Steve was staring straight again, leaning forward with his elbows braced against his thighs, hands clasped together between his knees. He blew out a long breath, and Tony tensed, bracing himself. 

“You’re right. I am selfish, Tony. I’m real fucking selfish.” 

Tony bit down hard on his bottom lip; expecting it didn’t make it hurt any less. But then Steve was turning to face him, a shy, hopeful smile on his face offset by the determination in his eyes. 

“And no way in hell am I giving this up. Giving you up.” 

For a moment Tony was actually rendered speechless. “You… what?” 

Steve shrugged. “I’m in love with you, Tony. It’s as simple as that. And I know you said this was whatever we needed it to be, and maybe that means you don’t have the same kind of feelings, but --,”

“God no, are you kidding?” Tony burst out before he could even stop himself. “I was already half in love with you when I said that, and it’s just gotten... more since. I just… I know that extreme situations aren’t the most conducive to long-term relationships, and I didn’t want you to feel pressured, so…” 

He trailed off helplessly and Steve chanced a quick look around before darting in to kiss him. It was quick, because it was still a public place in 1970, but full of love despite that. When he pulled back, Tony shifted his hand to curl over top of Steve’s, squeezing tight. 

“What… What about Peggy?” 

Steve’s eyes were dancing. “What about her? She’s married, Tony, happily so. I just… I wanted to see first hand that she was okay, and she is, more than. She’s moved on, and… And so have I.” He grinned then. “She did tell me I was an idiot though, if I didn’t say anything to you because she’d never seen two people more obviously pining for each other. And uh, then she threatened that if I didn’t treat her godson right she’d be bringing me a wealth of pain.”

“Oh,” Tony said faintly, but he was laughing then too. “Well alright then.” He leaned in to give Steve one more quick kiss. “I love you, Steve,” he told him, because it seemed important that he say the actual words. “Now let’s go home and save the world. Again.” 

THREE DAYS LATER

Tony snapped back to consciousness all at once with a sharp gasp, blinking his eyes open. The first thing his gaze focused on was Pepper and Rhodey, standing at the foot of his bed with watery, relieved smiles, Pepper holding Morgan in her arms.

“Daddy!” she shrieked. “You’re up!” She started wriggling frantically, attempting to leap onto the bed and making Pepper wince. 

“Morgan, sweetie, remember how we talked about how you have to be careful with Daddy for a bit?” 

“I don’t know.” And that was Steve’s voice, sounding gruff, but when Tony snapped his head up to see him leaning against the doorway, he was beaming brightly and looking just a little smug. “I think he can take it.” 

After solemn promises from Morgan that she would be careful, Pepper finally set her down and Morgan scrambled up on the bed beside him. With strength that he knew he shouldn’t have had, he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight enough that Morgan protested a little. She smelled fresh and clean and like her apple honey shampoo, and it was quite possibly the best thing that Tony had ever smelled. God, he had missed her so much. 

Morgan settled onto the bed beside him, telling him stories about everything he’d missed the past few days, everything she’d been doing with Uncle Happy. Tony did his best to follow along in his shell-shocked state, because the last thing he remembered was snapping his fingers, all of the infinity stones in his hand, and he was pretty sure that meant he wasn’t supposed to be here now. 

Eventually it was decided that Tony should get some rest, and so with a final, clinging hug from Morgan, Pepper escorted her gently off the bed. Her hands shook a little as she closed them around Tony’s, leaning in close to place a soft kiss against his cheek. 

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered softly, a slight tremor in her voice. 

They headed for the door but Rhodey lingered a second longer to lean in and give Tony a hug. “Gotta stop doing this to me, man,” he told him, and Tony could hear the tears in his voice, felt his own throat close up as he hugged Rhodey as tight as he could manage. 

“I know,” he mumbled, burying his face against his neck. “I’m sorry.” 

Rhodey pulled back just a little, enough so he could meet his eyes and give him a pointed look. “And sometime soon,” he added, “You are going to sit down and tell me exactly what the hell happened between you and Rogers while you were getting the Tesseract.” 

Then he was moving away, leading Pepper and Morgan out the door with a hand on the small of Pepper’s back. Steve had moved out of the way to let them pass into the hall, but once they were gone he moved back into the room, coming to sit on the side of Tony’s bed now that it was just the two of them. For a long moment they just stared at each other and then Tony shook his head. 

“Steve… What did you do?” 

Steve shrugged, feigning casual. “Funny thing about spending so much time together. I knew exactly what you were planning with the stones. So I just stepped in and… Helped.” 

Tony stared back at him incredulously, still half feeling like he was dreaming. “Right,” he said, voice a little faint. “Okay. And we’re alive and healthy and whole… How?” 

“Uh, Carol brought a special something from somewhere. I didn’t catch the details; I was pretty fucked up for a bit too. But…” He gave Tony his best innocent, hopeful smile. “As you can see it did the trick.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Tony muttered. Then he was lunging forward, practically crawling into Steve’s lap in his haste to kiss him. Steve took his weight easily, pulling Tony the rest of the way toward him as he wrapped his arms around his back, mumbling soothing words and stroking a hand over Tony’s spine. “You absolute idiot,” Tony gasped, allowing himself the comfort as he buried his face in Steve’s neck. “You could have been killed too. What the fuck were you thinking?” 

Steve huffed out a laugh, but his voice was rough and thick when he spoke. “I thought I told you, Tony. I’m real fucking selfish.” He pulled Tony back so he could see his face, see how absolutely serious he was. “No way in hell am I giving you up.”

@tonystarkbingo @not-close-to-straight

[stevenuniversallyreviews]

Episode 141: Your Mother and Mine

”You have it all wrong!”

We already know the story of Rose Quartz. We know she was a rebel who battled for many years against the forces of Pink Diamond. We know that she was “just another quartz soldier, made right here in the dirt” and rose to greatness by rallying fellow Gems to join her cause. We know that she was drawn to Gems that Homeworld shunned, wanting to make sure everyone had a place. We know that she ended the war by shattering Pink Diamond. And we know that after the war, her shield could only save two of her friends. So on paper, an episode that recaps this information is redundant.

But Your Mother and Mind isn’t about Rose Quartz’s history, it’s about her story. And the story is told by a character that can only reach her audience by impersonating the bearer of Pink Diamond’s gem.

Your Mother and Mine is a simple episode made fascinating by its proximity to the truth. It combines all the pieces of Rose’s story that we’ve heard over the course of the series to give us a definitive take on the narrative just in time for it to be undermined. We’re five episodes away from learning that Rose Quartz was Pink Diamond, and the episode after that is about Pearl correcting the version of events we hear right now. Which means that the episode’s major theme of truth versus fiction is something we can’t even comprehend fully without retrospect. Even if you already suspect that Rose is Pink when you watch it for the first time, the fact that it’s not written in stone yet means there’s still a possibility that Garnet’s story is true, and the episode only becomes great when you know for sure that it isn’t.

Garnet is the perfect narrator for the final depiction of Rose as we knew her before A Single Pale Rose. She’s one of the two remaining Crystal Gems that survived the war and isn’t bubbled, and we’ll soon learn that the other is bound to silence, so Garnet is the most capable character to tell this story and believe it. And her introduction in Your Mother and Mine hammers down why she believes it: when she’s excited about a cause that’s close to home, her enthusiasm overwhelms her usual calm. She’s so happy with the idea of misfit Homeworlders escaping oppression that she can’t step back and see that they aren’t handling her praise well until Padparadscha says it outright (for the second time in three episodes, she displays her ability to “predict” the emotions of the recent past on top of the events). And when she really gets going with her story, Garnet shows the exact same level of breathless, blinding glee. It can be hard to look for flaws in something you’re actively rooting for, that you’ve tied your whole identity to, so she doesn’t.

The distortion of truth that defines the episode is established by the Off Colors, who parrot three variants of Homeworld propaganda that mythologize Rose Quartz in the same way Garnet does, albeit for opposite reasons. They can’t even get their own stories straight, adding to the mystery of a figure that Homeworld would do anything to disavow and vilify, but the three main Gems in Steven’s life also have different concepts of Rose. Pearl’s is the most accurate, but she can’t tell anyone. Garnet’s is what she saw with her own three eyes, so she thinks it’s accurate, but she’s missing critical information. And Amethyst only knew Rose from after the war, so like Steven she had to learn about it secondhand. 

And so, a question presents itself: what’s the value of a story that isn’t true? In this episode, Garnet’s false narrative galvanizes the Off Colors in the same way it galvanized her for thousands of years. It gives Steven a version of the shattering that paints Rose’s actions as heroic—Lars, whose first huge character moment with Steven involved insulting his “weird mom,” thinks she’s awesome for doing it. Regardless of the facts, it’s a great story, an honest-to-goodness legend presented gorgeously. So how much does it matter that much of it is wrong?

To Steven and Garnet, it matters quite a bit. But to the Off Colors? They need a confidence boost both in their general lives and in a moment of floating in space with a broken engine, and the story of Rose Quartz concretely helps them. That’s the tricky thing about legendary figures: if you model yourself off a literal interpretation of their actions, as Steven and Garnet do, it can only end in disappointment, but if you just view it as a story, it can do a lot of good. Fiction can be a wonderful thing—Steven Universe is itself an untrue story that has made the world a better place—but it gets rougher when the boundaries between fiction and reality are muddled.

While Rebecca Sugar has many times confirmed that the three lead Gems are based off elements of her personality, Steven is based off her brother, and characteristics of other real people are found throughout the show in the way fiction writers often flesh out their casts, Rose Quartz is different. In an early conversation with Hellboy creator Mike Mignola of all people, she was inspired by Babylonian mythology, especially Ishtar, in developing the show’s backstory, and Era 1 Rose Quartz feels more like an ancient goddess of love and war than a grounded human at this point in the show.

So Garnet tells us a creation myth. She introduces the Diamonds as gods, calling them “unique in their flawlessness” without an ounce of sarcasm, but like most ancient mythological gods, they do indeed have flaws: in this case, according to Garnet, Pink’s cruelty and cowardice. From these gods came Gems in their image, and for an untold sweep of time there was stagnation as all went according to plan, until a disrupting hero shifted this status quo to create the world we know today. Rose Quartz went from questioning her god to arguing with her god to warring with her god to destroying and supplanting her god, but because this is a pantheon, her hubris is punished by the other gods. It’s a story that works as well thousands of years ago as it does today.

And befitting that story, we get the most stylized flashback in the series, expanding heavily from the silhouettes of The Answer. Even if nothing else here worked, this would remain a beautiful episode, with simple but effective techniques to marry narration with aesthetic: transitioning from widescreen to fullscreen as Rose’s worldview expands, using  stained glass backgrounds to keep the focus on characters instead of environment, and reducing colors in the foreground to make those colors pop. Eyes are out of the picture, a major handicap for showing how characters feel, but seasoned pros Katie Mitroff and Paul Villeco can convey emotion through body language and mouths alone.

Estelle certainly helps. Her commanding voice could make any story enthralling, even as she shifts from the fairy tale of her own origin to the legend of Rose. While she largely uses the same techniques here as in The Answer, the one noticeable change speaks volumes about Pink Diamond. When speaking for Blue, a far more personal foe for Garnet, she continues to narrate in her usual tone, and when speaking for Rose, her voice raises a little but it still sounds like Garnet. But when speaking for Pink, Estelle does something new: for the first and only time in the series, she vocally impersonates another character.

This is the second episode in a row featuring Pink Diamond, and the second in a row where she’s voiced by someone who isn’t Pink Diamond. Stevonnie shows the true version (a child), while Garnet shows the legend (a tyrant). And both halves of the Mindful Education duo are great at it! All Estelle needs is a few lines to shift that British accent into full evil aristocrat mode, and the special attention she gives to this voice highlights just how different this take on Pink is from the tantrum AJ Michalka provided. Even before we know the full truth, something is off about this cruel but newly confident version of Pink.

While the whole story gains new meaning when we hear the truth, the most compelling part in retrospect is Garnet’s stance on Pink Diamond calling for help. On top of providing the stunning header image as we pan from revolutionaries up to their oppressors, it’s this brilliant, awful moment where Garnet gets so close to the truth without grasping it, Blue Zircon style. Yes, Pink summoned other Diamonds to Earth, but it was part of her plan to save the planet: to make a big enough fuss that Homeworld would decide her colony wasn’t worth it. Garnet’s take is in line with the Pink we saw in our last episode, immature and seeking approval from her elders, and focusing on it here highlights how these negative traits could be aimed to help others when we see her real motives in Now We’re Only Falling Apart. 

That said, Pink isn’t the only Diamond we see here.

White Diamond is different. She’s the only Diamond who isn’t named until her debut episode, existing only as a suggestion that fills in a massive gap. We’re restricted to her glimpses of her, mere hints of her ominous presence, like a monster in the shadows. The mural on the moon, the distant view of her ship on Homeworld, the actual white diamond that tops the insignia, that’s all we’ve gotten until now.

Here we get three images of her, even if she still goes unmentioned: the first shot of the four Diamonds together, the shot of the remaining three Diamonds after the shattering, and the Corruption. She remains obscured, more an idea than a character, but it’s clearer than ever that she’s the head of the group, and that she’s enormous, even compared to Yellow and Blue. Her absence is as captivating as her presence, as we see more of her than ever but still get the impression that Pink was only able to appeal to the middle sisters. It’s a great hook, a second mystery that overlaps Pink Diamond’s to show the audience that there’s more to this story than we might think, and even when we inevitably unravel Pink’s history, there’s a bigger threat behind the curtain.

The story ends with a brief scene in our regular style, showing that even if everything else was wrong, Rose Quartz did use her shield to save her friends. We return to a downcast ship, but Garnet supplements the power of fiction with the power of truth: that despite all the lies from Homeworld (and the lies from Rose, it turns out), the Crystal Gems and the Off Colors persist. No matter how much authority figures might try to hide it, diversity of lifestyle and identity is everywhere, because queer folks are normal folks. That’s the sort of thing a good story can make clear, especially when society constantly repeats a brutal and bald-faced lie.

And so the Off Colors trilogy of sorts draws to a close, with another call to adventure aboard the Sun Incinerator. But not before Steven and Garnet have a sit-down away from the celebrating crew, and the downside of a good story peeks out. It’s refreshing to see Steven verbalize his theory about Stevonnie’s dream so soon, given the necessary gap between The Trial and Jungle Moon to focus on his immediate concerns, but because Garnet only knows the story instead of the history, she replies with two truths and a lie: that his powers come from empathy, that his differences are something to be celebrated, and that Rose Quartz definitely killed Pink Diamond.

Steven will thus need another push to find the truth, rather than pursuing it on his own. Rose’s story does a lot of good, but it keeps Steven in the dark on his heritage and his inheritance, and makes him doubt the gut that he should be learning to trust by now. Self-doubt is just one of the many issues plaguing him in Steven Universe Future, but it remains a major factor in his identity crisis, and it’s rooted in moments like this: when a loved one who means well repeats a lie that makes him question what he knows in his heart.

The truth can be a dangerous thing, and fiction can comfort and inspire. The truth leads to clarity, and fiction can distort. This isn’t a convenient dichotomy, and Garnet herself will soon be ripped apart by the realization that the story she tells right here was a lie, but she wouldn’t be who she is today without that story, and for better and worse, neither would Steven. I’m not saying it isn’t important to seek the truth, and I’m certainly not saying that this show is telling us that. But I appreciate so much that the value of stories isn’t lost in that message.

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

Without the upcoming reveal, this is just an episode that I like. Great visuals and a well-told story, but still feels like a recap. But that reveal amps up Your Mother and Mine by both justifying the recap itself and by making the actual point of the episode clear. So up it goes!

Top Twenty-Five

Steven and the Stevens

Hit the Diamond

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

Jungle Moon

Last One Out of Beach City

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Mindful Education

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Earthlings

Mr. Greg

Coach Steven

Lars of the Stars

Giant Woman

Beach City Drift

Winter Forecast

Bismuth

Back to the Kindergarten

Steven’s Dream

Kevin Party

When It Rains

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Keeping It Together

We Need to Talk

Chille Tid

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Catch and Release

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

The New Lars

Monster Reunion

Alone at Sea

Crack the Whip

Beta

Back to the Moon

Kindergarten Kid

Buddy’s Book

Gem Harvest

Three Gems and a Baby

That Will Be All

The New Crystal Gems

Storm in the Room

Room for Ruby

Lion 4: Alternate Ending

Doug Out

The Good Lars

Are You My Dad?

I Am My Mom

Stuck Together

The Trial

Off Colors

Lars’s Head

Gemcation

Raising the Barn

Sadie Killer

Your Mother and Mine

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Barn Mates

Steven Floats

Drop Beat Dad

Too Short to Ride

Restaurant Wars

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service

Greg the Babysitter

Gem Hunt

Steven vs. Amethyst

Bubbled

Adventures in Light Distortion

Gem Heist

The Zoo

Rocknaldo

Dewey Wins

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

Know Your Fusion

Future Boy Zoltron

Tiger Philanthropist

No Thanks!

     6. Horror Club      5. Fusion Cuisine      4. House Guest      3. Onion Gang      2. Sadie’s Song      1. Island Adventure

[itskateak]

It’s Been a Long, Long Time

(Bucky Barnes x Fem!OC)

Summary: Stark’s charity events were always a hit, but Bucky never really liked attending any event anyways. Live music changed the atmosphere and he was surprised to find Velika singing a familiar tune. Well, he couldn’t leave her high and dry without a dance, could he?

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma, nightmares, things that go along with PTSD, blood mentions, and tooth-rotting fluff

Word Count: 3,802 (dang)

A/N: If you didn’t see me yelling about my laptop shutting down mid-writing this the first time...now you know. Thank you, Windows for updating a day before I had scheduled you. Haha :) 

———————————————————————

Bucky leaned against the bar, half-listening to what Steve was saying. The glass in his right hand was half full with some kind of smooth alcohol that Natasha had poured for him earlier in the evening, insisting that he try it. It wasn’t bad, but he wasn’t partial to it. He preferred something that burned the back of his throat when he was done. He nodded slowly along to the story Steve was still rambling on about, gaze somewhere trained on the floor.

Music drifted over the low chatter from a live band Tony Stark had hired. The musicians played jazz, blues, and swing like they were directly from that era. But it wasn’t all classic music. They took modern music as well and turned them into classic and vintage songs. He was quite impressed by the musicians and whoever had arranged the music. The main vocalist sounded like he was taken directly from the 30s and Bucky wondered for a moment if he was. It wasn’t like it was impossible with everything that he’d seen.

“Are you even listening to me, Buck?” Steve lightly shoved his shoulder to gain his attention. Though his tone said he was a little irritated, his expression was amused and his eyes were alight with fondness. 

“Of course.” He lied, giving his best friend an unconvincing smile before he cracked a real one at Steve’s arched eyebrow. “I blanked for a minute. Parties aren’t my thing and I’m starting to, well...you know.” Starting to feel anxious and out of place.

“If you need to step out and get some air, you can. Don’t let me keep you here.” He gave Bucky’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze and a soft smile. Steve Rogers, always so kind and caring and conscientious of his needs. He was patient and so selfless. Sometimes it made him want to punch Steve in the face. 

“I’m okay for now.” Bucky nodded and looked back over the crowd of celebrities and his teammates. 

Tony was somewhere out there, talking to a celebrity or rich person trying to swindle more money out of there for the charity. Sam and Rhodey were probably knee-deep in women, trying to one-up each other with getting-out-of-proportion stories. Wanda and Vision were probably on the terrace getting air. Natasha and Bruce had tucked themselves away in a corner to get away from the crowd. And Clint and his wife were somewhere in the conglomeration.

Everyone was mingling, but Bucky was by the bar, hiding. If people wanted to speak to him for some reason, they could find him. But he couldn’t promise to hold a decent conversation. Socialization was not his thing anymore. Not since his run-ins and dealings with Hydra. 

“Have you seen Velika, yet?” Steve asked, glancing over the crowd. “I thought I caught a glimpse of her earlier, but I couldn’t be sure.”

Velika Dante King was one of their team members that joined after the Accords were signed and the chaos with Thanos had been taken care of. According to her, SHIELD and Fury had been after her for years, trying to get her to join the Avengers. She refused for a long time, insisting she didn’t want to be back in the line of duty. As an ex-guardian angel (who worked in the Palace of Light as a guard. Boring job, she’d said), she’d seen enough action for many lifetimes. Not to mention her years as a bounty hunter later turned hitman for the Silver City She had gotten out and had been living a fairly peaceful life. Eventually, she caved and joined the team.

Velika and Bucky got along fine, understanding each other without words. She’d lived a long time, being an immortal and all, and had been one of many people to sit down and catch him up on things he’d missed. She got him in a way he didn’t expect, even with his past and the things he’d done. She didn’t care, having spilled her fair share of blood in ways that would make even the most experienced assassins nauseous. She got what it was like to wake up at night from nightmares and the inability to sleep because of them. She got jumping at loud noises and having bad days and everything that came along with being the way they are.

Velika was always there when he really needed her.

“No, I haven’t seen her. I suspect she’s up near the stage. Told me that she hasn’t seen her brother in months and Stark hired his group.” Bucky responded, taking another sip of his too smooth drink. Why was he even still drinking it? Natasha wasn’t anywhere near them and he was planning to finish it to not be rude to her.

“I heard Wanda and Nat talking about the dress she’d decided to wear. From the way they were talking, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got company.” Steve said, setting his own glass down on the bar top. He had a suggestive glint in his eye which was paired with a raised brow. With all the time Bucky spent with the woman, Steve had decided that there was something more than friendly between them. Ever since he’d found them asleep on the couch together, his head in her lap, Steve had been relentless. It had been a month so far, and he had yet to let up.

Bucky rolled his eyes and shoved his shoulder. “If that bugs you, punk, then you go find her.” He teased, ignoring the twisting in his stomach at the thought of some high-class, snobby man flirting with her. He had begun to feel things for her that were in the territory of more than friends but he was never going to admit that to Steve nor himself. Before Steve could make comment on it, a familiar voice came over the speakers.

“Evening, everyone! Thank you for coming this evening and donating to the charity. We’re very happy to say that we’ve more than met our goal, but don’t let that discourage you from donating more. Relief for those still being affected by The Snap is very important and all of us on the Avengers team have made our own contributions.” Velika had taken her brother’s place at the mic and addressed the crowd with a smile. “I am very proud of my brother, Dakota-”

Indignant muttering (Bucky couldn’t hear it well from where he was, but it sounded like something along the lines of: “You know I hate that name.”) interrupted her from her brother beside her and she laughed, waving the white-haired man off. He crossed his arms and pretended to be mad before he broke out in a truly radiant smile.

“I am very proud of my brother, Dakota King, and his group, The Devil Tones, for their success. These very talented musicians agreed to help me with a special project for some very special teammates of mine. I promised Tony Stark, our generous host, that I would sing something if he paid me a thousand dollars.” The guests laughed as she beamed. “Obviously, since I’m up here, he paid me. Which I then turned around and donated to the charity because I’m not a selfish twit. Stark.” She fake coughed to badly conceal his name.

“Not fair, Velika! I will dock your paycheck!” Tony yelled from somewhere in the crowd, though his voice was full of amusement.

“This song is a lovely post World War Two tune that tells of a wonderful homecoming. My brother arranged a beautiful rendition featuring himself on trumpet and Anthony Grey on saxophone. So, to our resident fossils on the Avengers team...wherever you are....” Velika scanned the crowd with her unnaturally blue eyes and spotted the pair at the bar. She waved to them and grinned. “We dedicate this to you. I hope you enjoy.”

Bucky spared a glance at Steve. So, she’d prepared a song for them. He had never heard her sing, knowing that she had trouble with crowds and being in front of an audience. It was admirable that she had stepped out of her comfort zone to bring them a gift. 

Velika conducted a measure before cueing the band in. 

Immediately, Bucky recognized the song and a smile involuntarily crept up on his face. It’s Been a Long, Long Time was a classic post-war song. He had never listened to it before he had been shipped off to the frontlines. And after Hydra had gotten a hold of him, he hadn’t had the opportunity to listen to it. Steve had played it for him when catching him up on everything he’d missed. It was one of his absolute favorites and Bucky had learned to appreciate it. 

The band was phenomenal together. Everything was balanced so that moving lines were heard overtop the rest. The strings were (thankfully) in tune and the drums didn’t feel like they were clashing with the rest of it. The trumpet player, King (as he apparently liked to be referred to by last name rather than first) sounded exactly like the recording, and Bucky was almost convinced that he had been the one to play it in Steve’s record. The tone was so clear and warm and the sound enveloped the entire room without ever being too much.

People started to slow dance with each other, the sentimental message of homecoming drawing them together. Tony found Pepper and drew her close. Vision and Wanda took the floor together. Clint grabbed his wife’s hand and urged her out with a smile. Sam and Rhodey chose one of the women in their audience to sweep off their feet. 

“I’m going to go find Sharon before someone steals her away. Can’t pass up an opportunity to dance.” Steve clapped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder before disappearing into the crowd to find the woman. 

Alone, Bucky watched Velika perform with fascination. She had such an air of charisma that anyone who didn’t know about her aversion to performing would think she was most comfortable on stage. She had a beautiful voice, he realized. It was smooth with a hint of smokiness to it, like a good whiskey. 

“Kiss me once, then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again. It’s been a long, long time. Haven’t felt this way, my dear, since can’t remember when. It’s been a long, long time.” Velika swayed side to side, a smile on her face. Her platinum blonde hair was curled loosely and hung over her shoulders and back like a veil. She looked everything in the world like she had just walked out of a speakeasy during Prohibition.

Bucky downed the rest of his drink, pushing the glass towards the bartender and nodding to say he was finished with it. He shoved his hands in his pockets, tilting his head as the performance went on. It really was a nice gift, and the arrangement was done wonderfully. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine being back in a club before the war. Even if the song was post-war.

Steve was right, though. The dress she had worn was beautiful. It fit her perfectly, showing off her body in all the right places. It was a deep blue that offset her light eyes and hair. The floor-length mermaid gown had sheer sleeves with lace decorations that wound up her arms like vines. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’s been fending off men all evening. He fought a sneer at the thought.

“It’s been a long, long time.” 

The saxophone player began his solo as she backed away to give him the spotlight. If anyone had any doubts that Anthony Grey loved what he did, they just needed to watch him. Each note he played was like a bit of his soul, and if it were liquid, it would be pooling at his feet and flooding the floor. Something about a good saxophone solo healed the soul. His tone was rich and clear but had the trademark raspiness of a jazz sax player.

Velika swayed along to the beat in the background, not detracting from the attention, but holding Bucky’s regardless. The lights made her appear like she was glowing. If she had stepped down from the stage, he surely would’ve asked her to dance. But she claimed she had two left feet and therefore would’ve likely turned him down.

The song ended faster than he expected or wanted and he applauded the performance. King hugged his sister and said something to her that made her throw her head back and laugh. Damn, Bucky thought. Under the spotlights, that had been gorgeous. 

Velika approached the mic. “Thank you! I hope you all enjoyed that. I’ll hand the microphone back over to my brother and let you get back to your evening.” And with that, she backed away to leave the stage.

“Thank you, Vel. After that touching song, why don’t we pick things back up?” King said before the band struck up with a swing version of I Wanna Be Like You, which Bucky remembered was originally made famous by Big Bad Voodoo Daddy. It was a group Velika had introduced him and Steve to as they played similar music to their era. 

King had much more charisma onstage than his sister. He moved with the music and had a presence that reminded Bucky of Cab Calloway. He watched him, amused and amazed, as he wasn’t aware the male body could move that way. He swung his hips side to side in such a fluid motion that he almost expected him to be made of liquid.

“Are you checking my brother out?” The teasing lilt of Velika’s voice drew his attention and he found her standing beside him, a broad smile on her face.

“Mm, not my type.” Bucky teased back, turning to her. “That was incredible, by the way.” Up close, she was far prettier than he expected. Whoever had done her makeup (as she had confessed she had no idea what to do earlier that week) had done it perfectly to suit her features and bring out her eyes. He knew there were challenges when it came to doing makeup on monolids. A girl back in the day had complained about it to her friends one time and he happened to overhear it. 

“Thank you.” She ducked her head sheepishly and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I spent so many hours trying making sure I did it some justice instead of butchering it horribly.”

“You did it more than justice, Vel. How’s your evening going?” Bucky felt his nerves and out of placeness return, not realizing that they had been washed away during her performance.

“It’s good. Though, I was regretting my choice of attire earlier. I kept fending of guys and their compliments and flirting. Ugh.” She rolled her eyes in annoyance but still had a smile on her face. “I’m feeling a little anxious now that the performance is done and my adrenaline has worn off.”

“I don’t s’pose you’d mind if I steal you away for some air, then? I’ve been feeling closed in, too.” Bucky straightened up. “The roof should be open.”

“Shall we then?” Velika offered her arm up to him and he looped his through. Together, they headed for the elevator.

———————————————————————

“Oh, God. I regret wearing these shoes.” Velika used Bucky’s arm to keep her balance as she slipped her heels off. She ditched them by the elevator doors. “My knees hurt.”

“Why did you wear them, then?” Bucky asked, shaking his head slightly in amusement.

“Because I’m short, Barnes, and I’d trip over my dress if I didn’t!” She lightly socked his bicep, causing him to laugh. She wandered to the railing, staring out over the city.

Bucky joined her, the light breeze ruffling the ends of his hair. It was quiet up here, as the party was four or five floors down and the levels muffled the music until it was just a whisper. The city lights were different from the stage lights and lit up Velika’s eyes like stars. 

“Did you find some dame to dance with?” Velika asked, shifting her hair over one shoulder. She quirked a brow with a smirk, having put on a heavy New York accent to badly imitate a young Bucky. He playfully shoved her shoulder.

“I would’ve asked you, but you were busy providing the music.” He admitted with a smile.

“Well, you know I have two left feet. I wouldn’t want to step on your foot, hon’.” Velika turned around and leaned her back on the railing. “I do kind of wish I’d gotten to dance, though.”

“Miss King, would you do me the great honors of joining me for a dance?” Bucky made a show of extending his hand to her, putting on his best posh accent to make her laugh.

“Here? Now?”

“Well, I can’t leave my best girl without a dance.” He leaned forward a little more, urging her to take his hand. She did with a smile and pulled him away from the railing to a more open part of the roof.

“I’m your best girl now, huh? Don’t let Nat hear you say that.” Velika swung their hands a little.

“I couldn’t care less about what Nat thinks.” Bucky rested his metal hand on her lower back, clutching her other hand tightly. Her hand settled on his upper arm. He was about to take the first step before he realized they were missing something. “Are we going to awkwardly sway or is there some music you’re gonna magically put on?”

“Give me your phone, you dork.” She giggled and began navigating through it once he’d passed it to her. “Do I have to do everything?” 

“I will throw you off this roof, Miss King,” Bucky responded. Despite it being a threat, he was trying to conceal laughter.

“Is there a specific song you’d like me to play?” She asked after shoving his shoulder again.

Bucky considered it, thinking of all the songs he’d heard that would be good to dance to. He only wanted to slow dance, as that would minimize the risk of injury from his two-left-footed partner. At least she wasn’t wearing the heels, so it wouldn’t hurt him. “Ella Fitzgerald and Bing Crosby. Dream a Little Dream of Me.” He finally said.

“Oh, good choice.” Velika turned the volume up on the song and tucked it into the pocket on his chest, resting it against the folded handkerchief. She took up his hand and settled her hand on his bicep again.

Bucky gently laid his metal hand on her lower back again and began to sway from side to side. The tempo was perfect for a relaxed dance. There was no one to impress. No one to watch (other than FRIDAY through the cameras) and no one to point out that they were far closer to each other than was really necessary for a simple dance like this. 

Velika stepped on his shoe and broke into giggles. “Glad I took my heels off?”

“I’ve been hurt worse.” He let go of her hand and brushed a strand of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. “How is someone as graceful as you so bad at dancing?”

“I’m a fighter, not a dancer! They never taught me to dance, jerk.” She lightly slapped his chest. “My brother’s the dancer.”

Bucky slowly spun her under her arm before pulling her back in. She looked beautiful that way, smiling at him over her shoulder in the light of the city. 

Velika raised a brow as her hand slid down to his elbow rather than his bicep. “You’re staring.”

“Sorry, can’t help it.” Bucky chuckled. “You’re beautiful. Used to seeing you all strapped in and ready to fight. Can’t blame me if I just want to take it in.”

Velika shook her head but smiled nonetheless. He seemed to be getting her to smile a lot tonight, but that wasn’t a bad thing. He adored her smile, even with the fact the left side didn’t rise as much as the right. She leaned her head on his chest, eyes closing. 

Bucky wrapped his left arm completely around her waist, pulling her closer. Something felt right about this, and all feelings of being out of place and on edge left. He was sure she could hear his heartbeat steadily increasing. He never would have imagined that the woman he met a year ago, jaded and untrusting, would be in his arms, dancing with him on the roof. 

It felt peaceful, domestic. For once, Bucky felt like he was entirely human again. Like he wasn’t always walking on eggshells with himself to avoid relapsing into his old ways, even after T’Challa had his team had helped remove Hydra’s programming. And for once, he felt that he could leave it behind and start a life.

The song was ending far too quickly for his liking. He wanted this moment to last forever because he didn’t know if he’d ever feel like this again. If they’d ever be like this again. As the song came to a close, he spun her under her arm again and brought her into a gentle dip, supporting her with his metal arm.

Velika looked back up at him, hands holding onto his shoulders with a loose grip. She trusted him to not drop her. Her unnaturally light blue eyes flickered between his, judging his expression. One hand came up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear. It lingered on his cheek.

Bucky leaned in tentatively, heart in his throat. Was he really going to do this? This could destroy the friendship they’d built over the last year. He couldn’t keep it in any longer. He liked her more than a friend and he wanted to hold her like this all the time. He hadn’t realized he’d been hovering a hair away from her until she pulled him down.

Velika kissed him, the hand still on his shoulder wrapping around his neck. Her lips tasted like strawberry chapstick and some kind of alcohol that she had had earlier. They were soft and moved against his own like a perfect match. A missing piece in a puzzle finding its place. A wandering warrior finding their home.

He broke this kiss and leaned his forehead against hers, watching those bright blue eyes flutter open. He couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face. She returned it with a soft giggle, her teeth catching her lip.

“Can I...can I kiss you again?” He asked, breathlessly.

“You can kiss me as much as you want and whenever you want, James Buchanan Barnes.”

[slifers-executive-writer]

My Thoughts on the Potential Personality of a Certain Pharaoh We Never Met

Hey guys...It’s been a while since I wrote something about YGO specifically and well since that is the main focus of this blog, I thought I’d create another discussion. 

This particular tidbit (more like a brain fart to be completely honest) is from scrolling through this website and other social media pages and therefore stumbling on the fandom making their theories and headcanons on what Atem’s true personality is. I think we have all seen the jokes on how we as a fandom like to write him off as this super gay, suave, smooth talking, prideful king. The counter argument I often see is that he is socially awkward, fumbling serial killer, with an identity crisis. All of these claims tend to be backed up by people recalling numerous amounts of the original source material from Mr. Takahashi, but sometimes I wonder what could have been. 

Popular headcanons asides (that means we are not using any ships and/or made up assumptions with no basis), let’s talk about this for a minute. What has Kazuki provided and what can we assume about Atem’s actual character. Despite being a 200+ episode anime, several movies, and over 30 volumes of manga, our favorite author has left a lot to be desired from this guy. Once we’ve discussed the material, I’ll make a personal evaluation of what Atem could have been like had we been able to meet him after he had retrieved all his memories.

Okay so perhaps the fandom is right about one thing, Atem started out as a borderline serial killer. Well, according to the manga, he has got quite a bit of red on his ledger with multiple violent injuries/deaths by his hands.

Right at the moment Atem’s spirit was reawakened by Yugi completing the Millennium Puzzle, we have an individual very determined to protect his vessel at any cost. Of course not without his own enjoyment in participating in his “Dark Games”. So we can tell Atem is very protective of Yugi, his group of friends, and generally any other innocent bystanders. We can argue he is a little over protective via his deadly methods but I guess it’s the thought that counts right?

Luckily for Atem’s victims, he stops his magically mind-fucking bullshit after the Duelist Kingdom arc. He never explains why he stops. Perhaps it has to do with his development as a character to not be as ruthless in an attempt to comfort Yugi.  

One attribute Atem does not lose throughout the series is when confronted with any sort of enemy, we see Atem is very confident in his abilities. Another thing the fandom got right is well... he is quite the smooth talker. Despite being from a completely different era, this guy always knows what to say to enemies and rivals alike. Not to mention his motivational speeches to his friends are always quite powerful. If anything I would almost consider Atem a bit of a life coach. He more or less helped raise Yugi and company into the individuals they become. 

Along with giving everyone their moments of support, Atem does a pretty good job blending in with modern society despite being locked up in his own head for thousands of years. I find some individuals, thinking Atem is a complete fumbling socially awkward dork and well, maybe not so much. Sure he has his moments, I think we can all look back on the ‘Date’ episode, but we have to look at which version we are watching/reading. For the sake of accuracy I tend to interpret the Japanese material as it is closest to the manga. As I said, Atem isn’t perfect, he can be very blunt to people when they ask him for an opinion (or telling people it’s the end of the world if he doesn’t win a card game), but I certainly wouldn’t consider him completely ‘socially awkward’ in general. 

But honestly that can be a whole other essay and I’m just talking about basic character traits overall. Now let us discuss some of Atem’s flaws.

So to make things easier, let us list the flaws as they appeared in both manga and anime:

When Shadi was first introduced to us (manga), we got a glimpse of seeing our favorite dark spirit sweat in the heat of a shadow game. It was revealed that Atem knew little of his true identity and sharing a Yugi’s body meant, that the two would share each others emotions. Moreover, this spirit had fears and doubts just like the rest of us.

As time passes we see more of Atem’s doubts emerge as he becomes more comfortable with Yugi and company, and therefore he expresses his confusion about his past. Where did he come from and who is he and such. This guy needs to have a sense of purpose and being Yugi’s guardian is fine, but at the end of the day, it would be best for him to become his own person.

There is another interaction in the manga (and in the Japanese version of the anime) that I found interesting. When Atem addresses this identity issue and whether his time on this plain is limited, Yugi kind pushes it off as something he doesn’t want to think about. The kid does it again (god I can’t remember exactly which arc this is, I wanna say DOMA), Atem mentions the issue and Yugi says “You can have my memories”. 

For fans of the pairing (to be honest I’m a boring canon-ish shipper so not my cup of tea, but I get it...this scene is pretty gay) this moment is viewed as tender love and care but I can’t help but notice a pattern and another character flaw. We have a guy with no memories of his own and having an identity crisis but every time he wants to discuss this issue, his best friend tends to push it away. I understand Yugi’s reasoning, that Atem is basically the catalyst for all the good things to happen in his life, but the constant ignoring of the problem for the first half of the series is borderline toxic. Furthermore, it shows Atem is a bit of an enabler when it comes to Yugi. Unlike Joey who loudly addresses the behavior to Atem’s face, Yugi finds comfort in it and for both of them it only makes the journey harder for them in moments of separation.

Just something I thought I’d bring up since I don’t see a lot of people talking about moments of toxicity in this friendship. Not that it is a bad thing, I find it quite interesting and realistic. Not all relationships with people are perfect.

Last by certainly not least, Atem’s biggest character flaw, is he is one prideful son of a bitch. Yes, I said it. He likes to complain a lot about his rival (Kaiba) about the characteristic when he is also guilty of it. It’s always duelist pride this and duelist pride that, when a lot of the times this bullshit is what almost gets people killed. Atem’s pride kind of ties in with the ruthlessness of his character, where in the ride to victory he sometimes forgets the people he defeats are still humans beings. Take the incident with Arkana, it took Yugi switching back to keep the guy from getting his legs cut off. (Move out the way Jigsaw, Atem is gunning for your spot.) 

But his pride works against him when individuals such as Yami Bakura and Dartz use their words to question his morality. What would Atem do just to obtain victory? While our hero tends to grow from these experiences and beat the bad guys in the end, it does not negate the fact that the pharaoh’s greatest strength also tends to be his greatest weakness.

Okay so I’ve gotten most of Atem’s characteristics down pat before he retrieves his memories. In summary here is a list of some of his qualities I’ve gathered from the source material.

PROS

-protective & caring nature

-generally is confident in his abilities

-good with his words, knowing when to pick someone up and put his enemies down

-Adapts to modern customs and his friends pretty well, especially for someone locked up in a pendant for so long

-easily takes a leadership role (probably a projection of his kingship past) although he is often humble about his status as pharaoh

-his pride keeps his head held high and rises above all challenges

CONS

-let’s be real the guy is incredibly blunt (this could be a pro or con depending on preference)

-can be an enabler to Yugi at times

-ruthless nature (let’s be real his kill count is like 5+ people in the manga, probably more)

-has an overall identity crisis

-tends to put others above himself, which at times can be toxic or detrimental to his character

-his own pride can be used against him, placing fear and doubt into his mind (DOMA was a great example of this)

I feel like every time Takahashi draws him in a new movie, he just adds more flair and muscles (not that I’m complaining)

So now we come to a head and the big question is what are we missing out on? Perhaps one of the reasons Yu-Gi-Oh DM has so much fanfiction and forums about it is the general sense of emptiness the ending of the series left behind. I think dub Tea put it best, (these are not the exact words, I’ve already spent an hour writing this) Atem was leaving us just as we were getting to know him. Finally a season where we get to see him as his own character, and honestly him fighting bad guys and dying for it, was not the way a lot of us would have wanted to see him go. Instead he comes back to duel Yugi but Atem feels so stiff and mysterious. The guy doesn’t even talk to the poor girl crying in front of him. This isn’t a guy who just wanted to up and leave from the get go. But now that he got the information he wanted, suddenly he just says fuck it and gives a thumbs up walking into the light? Nah. I’m sorry to say the Yu-Gi-Oh is not on my top list of anime endings, but it can be one of saddest. 

I often wonder time and time again, what would have Atem been like around his friends. Maybe he would have more of a sense of humor (like he was with Mana). Would he have more wisdom? Would he be more charming? These are just a few question I and many others have about our favorite pharaoh. But hey that’s what we have headcanons for right?

Now some of you may be wondering, especially as a fanfic writer, what are my own headcanons about Atem? As I mentioned before I guess you can say I’m boring, I prefer canon-ish ships and I try to keep my headcanons as much in line with the source material as I can. Of course I add a tad of my own flair to it so it isn’t completely the same. If anything I try to fix so of the errors I see in the original. 

My headcanon for Atem (post memories): A lot of the qualities I mentioned before would most likely remain the same, if not positively amplified. He certainly wouldn’t be as ruthless as he used to be, the anime/manga has shown his growth from that. He would definitely still be very protective of those he cared about. Although I can’t help but think that after remembering his past, he would carry himself in a regal manner. Possibly even without him noticing because he was raised from birth to become a king. Considering the strong connection with his father, I can see the guy having a keen sense for family bonding, perhaps even wanting one of his own. It is traditional for pharaoh to want to pass on their legacy. I’m also sure we all like to think the guy would be incredibly charming, considering how he always seems to know exactly what to say. Although he would still be blunt with his statements, he isn’t one to lie or hold back. If you ask Atem a question you will get the truth and the honest truth. Pride and honesty are incredibly important to him. While he respects honesty, I can imagine he would like to keep personal matters to himself and not worry others. If anything he would rather stay quiet than create a lie. Lastly considering how humble he tends to be with the people around him and how he values everyone as equals, I can see Atem being very open-minded to try new things and explore various ideologies. He would not judge, or have prejudice. He would be accepting and encourage others to be who they are as long as they were good people.

 Okay so maybe he would be low-key nervous around pets lol.

Well, that was longer than I planned it to be, but thanks for reading all that if you did. Feel free to add to the conversation or blow up my inbox!

[loyalflutist]

Fusion (F!Byleth x Dorothea)

Challenge: Bylethea Week 2019 (Twitter) Day 3: Fusion

A/N: I could’ve gone for the other easier prompt, but yolo, I wanted to take a spin on this unique one! Also, I seem to be writing more and more references for Edelgard x Ingrid for some reason... 

---

“Um, Dorothea, do you know where the professor went?”

“…”

“Dorothea?”

“She probably went to see Lady Rhea, Hubie.”

“Oh, okay then. Guess I’ll ask her later.”

“Can I relay the message for you?”

“Hm… just let her know that I’m looking for her.”

“…”

Dorothea, who had waved farewell to Hubert, felt an invisible tug pull upon her arm. A couple of steps were taken to the nearest bookshelves. Then, the opera singer reached out towards the thick covers, her fingertips brushing upon the spines. She frowned and harshly whispered,

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Then, from the same mouth, she said, “I’m looking for the solution.”

Although she was alone in the library, if anyone were to catch sight of her, they would have mistaken her as being mental. Just who in their right mind would speak to themselves? It didn’t help that Dorothea’s features would switch between expressionless and annoyance every ten seconds. She had spooked Bernadetta already by accident this morning. She didn’t want a repeat of it again with someone else. She wasn’t in the mood to explain their predicament either… if anyone would believe in them, that is. The student loudly sighed and lowered her head, her hand acting on its own accord.

“I still can’t believe this isn’t a dream, professor.”

“…”

This morning was rather eventful. The two females yesterday shared a late-night tea session. Since they were already in a relationship, both Byleth and Dorothea shared sweet romantic words to each other (though awkward) and cuddled in bed. When it had gotten too dark, the two parted ways, with Byleth taking her leave from Dorothea’s bedroom. By the time they woke up, Dorothea found herself staring in unfamiliar territory.

She was in Byleth’s room. A glimpse around told her that Byleth was nowhere to be found. The young lady had panicked as she had no recollection of what led her to the professor’s private quarter. It didn’t help that the instant she slammed open the door, Edelgard was in the midst of knocking on the wooden barrier. Seeing her classmate dressed in nothing more than undergarments invited a full red makeover of the noble’s face. Steam wafted from the top of her head as Edelgard excused herself from the premise.

It didn’t take long for Dorothea to figure out what sort of unintentional message was conveyed… and she didn’t appreciate it.

“Edie gave me these strange looks, you know!”

“It’s not my fault that I’m stuck inside of your body now.”

The opera singer shrugged in conjunction with Byleth’s thoughts. True enough, Dorothea was not only forced to deal with the flustered Edelgard whenever they made eye contact, she nearly got a heart attack when her mouth started moving on its own. It took a solid five minutes for Dorothea to believe in Byleth’s words, originally thinking she was possessed by a ghost.

“Ugh, and you saw everything when I had to get dressed!”

“Um… this isn’t the first time I’ve seen you naked though.”

“T-That’s—” A deep blush tainted her cheeks. “What are you trying to say?!”

“I still don’t understand what’s the embarrassment. We’ve seen each other naked when we were—”

“STOP RIGHT THERE!” She slapped over her own mouth, muffling Byleth. When her girlfriend stopped trying to talk, she removed her hand and quickly added, “That’s different! You really need to work on your social skills, you know.”

“People tell me that all the time.”

“And I think you should listen to them.”

“Father doesn’t have a problem though.”

“Captain Jeralt is… different.”

Dorothea shook her head and rubbed her temple. This is such a hassle. As much as she loves her teacher, this was inconvenient for the two members, especially when it came to more… sensitive and private matters. Then, she felt her hand slid down to her chin, cupping it. A faint hum slipped past her lips. Dorothea watched her control slip out of her reign as Byleth began to take their leave from the library. Their search— or rather, Byleth’s search, was fruitless. Not a single booklet contained the information they needed about their definition of bodily fusion.

“Oh, Dorothea, I want to talk to you.”

Byleth stared at the person speaking to Dorothea right outside of the hallways. She retracted her hand and observed the speaker through her girlfriend’s vision. It was a male guard. Though unlike the Gatekeeper that the professor has come to know and like, this one was a little rough on the edge.

“You still haven’t responded about the date.”

Her eyes widen. Okay, maybe he was more than rough around the edge. Byleth could feel Dorothea bubble from within her chest in order to regain control of her own body. Yet she didn’t allow it. There was a powerful force that pressed the host away from the panel. Dorothea resisted the temptation to exclaim. It’s unfortunate that their fusion didn’t allow the transmission of thoughts between each other. Though on second thought… It might be for the best. There are some things Dorothea prefers Byleth not to know and vice versa.

Dorothea was forced to remain silent as Byleth… crossed her arms. She almost wanted to slap herself on the forehead as the student rarely, if ever, would do so. It wasn’t part of her routine! Regardless, this professor’s habit went unnoticed as the guard approached them. Byleth narrowed her eyes. He was taller than them.

“I hope you understand that I’m already in a relationship.”

“With who?”

“Do I need to tell you?”

He clicked his tongue. Despite the blunt answers, his persistence stayed. The young man took another step forward, closing their distance to an uncomfortable degree. Dorothea nearly gagged when she felt his breath tickle her nose.

“Actually, you don’t need to. However, it wouldn’t hurt to go out with me just this once, right? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“SHE would mind.”

“Oh…” Byleth’s glare didn’t scare him away. The response she provided had fueled his next reply, making him sound even worse than he already did from the beginning. “She wouldn’t know how a man treats his lady. Let me teach you, yeah?”

Dorothea nearly took control of her body by sheer instinct when his hand snaked around her waist. From the distant, it would appear as though he was ready to meet their bodies together, his lips yearning to touch for hers.

“Can you stop!?” the student vocalized her objection. “Leave me alone!”

That didn’t budge him. Byleth widens her eyes and felt… a rush of emotions she has rarely felt: fear.

It’s clear that there was no consent between the two. Not that it lasted long anyway. Dorothea quickly took partial control and slapped him. But her ownership did not last long, the older female taking it away like previously.

Byleth hadn’t knocked his hand away. She kneed him. Hard. The guard instantly pressed against his abdomen and felt the wind knocked out of him. She didn’t let up, her elbow came crashing down onto his back. This forced him down onto the ground with a loud slam. As he groaned, the professor stared at him. If looks could kill, she would have murdered him ten times over.

“Since you pose a danger to her, I’m going to make sure you’re removed from the monastery.”

“H-Her?”

She didn’t answer. Byleth turned her back towards him and, to their luck, spotted Caspar and Ferdinand. One flick of her wrist was all it took to bring them over.

“Take care of him,” she mumbled and walked away. “I don’t want to see him ever again. Make sure he stays away from everyone.”

Ferdinand and Caspar had plenty of questions for Dorothea. Just what happened? However, the youngsters had their hands full with pulling the man up. Though the scenario was unclear, what was clear for sure were the outcomes. They know their comrade enough to heed her words. After all, Dorothea would never lie when determining how bad an individual is. She was never off the mark either.

“Byleth…”

“…”

Byleth had stepped back from the wheel and allowed Dorothea to regain full motor skills with her own body. The songstress curled and uncurled her fingers. She called out to her girlfriend again once they were in the safety of Dorothea’s bedroom.

“Byleth…?”

“…”

“…”

The brown-haired sat on the edge of her mattress when Byleth finally spoke up, alas in a small whisper.

“That man is disgusting.”

“I know, right?”

“I can’t believe you deal with this every day.”

“It’s normal.”

“Normal? I don’t want it to be normal.” She felt her grip ball into a tight fist. Oddly, her eyes became watery, Dorothea feeling her heartache from Byleth. “I’ve never felt so angry.”

“I could tell.”

“I… I don’t want this to happen to you anymore.”

“I would love that.”

Just because it's happened so many times doesn't mean she's gotten used to it. There is no "getting used to it" anyway. This sort of situation always invites disasters and trauma. History of men and women that proposed and attempted nonconsensual activities back during her opera era were always in for a beating. Yet that fear never went away. If she was unable to protect herself or if Byleth wasn't present... What would happen? Dorothea shook those hypothetical scenes off, her attention fully set on Byleth. This situation wasn't only affecting Dorothea.

Byleth bit the bottom of her lip.

“Just… why? Why would they do that to you?”

“My dear Byleth, oh, how much I want to hug you right now.”

Dorothea wiped her tears away with the back of her hand, even more tears falling from her eyes. Byleth was always publicly known as the Ashen Demon. Not a lick of emotions would be expressed. To be frank, it had worried everyone in the monastery. Some students and staff hardly paid attention to this part of the professor. Others, especially Edelgard, Mercedes, Raphael, and Dorothea, were concerned about it. They didn’t know if Byleth was repressing them or if she was actually THAT emotionless.

Turns out moments like this proved otherwise. Behind closed doors, Byleth would cry to herself, having no one other than her father to consult. Sometimes her father wasn’t even helpful, Jeralt either out of the monastery or his perspective was unhelpful for the situation. Dorothea felt her chest ache again, its impact doubled as she resisted the temptation to hug herself.

It was a mixed reaction as control wildly shifted back and forth. Comforting Byleth made her look silly on the outside. She was wiping her own tears and giving the occasional pat on the arm. Soft hushes ushered the poor adult to her normal state, her silent cries coming to a cessation.

“I’m sorry to show you that side of me," Byleth finally voiced, though it somewhat cracked. "I shouldn’t act this way.”

“Don’t be so uptight, professor,” Dorothea smiled. “I’m always here for you… just like you do for me.”

“Mhm…”

The rest of the day was spent in leisure within Dorothea’s bedroom. Since Byleth was physically absent, the Black Eagle’s lectures were canceled for today. It was safe to say that Rhea, Seteth, and Flayn were desperately calling for a search party to find the teacher. All three house leaders were forced to partake in the mission themselves. As for the other students, they were responsible for keeping their eyes peeled on campus.

Nightfall descend upon the land… and morning occurred before the two. The search results were futile. Edelgard, Dimitri, and Claude returned exhausted after staying up all night with the soldiers and scouts. Jeralt himself was a bit frazzled for having lost his daughter. All participants, excluding Edelgard, hurried back to their dormitory for their long-desired sleep. (Thank goodness it’s the weekends too.)

Dorothea rose up from the bed, rubbing both her eyes. She yawned and dropped her hand on top of Byleth’s bareback. The songstress turned to the naked professor and— Wait a minute… Whatever drowsiness the student was inflicted with vanished without a trace. Dorothea blinked a few times at the sight of her sleeping instructor.

“…”

She leaned forward to get a closer look.

“Zzz…”

“Oh my gosh, we’re separated!”

Jolly, this is wonderful! This couldn’t be a dream, right?! The opera singer pinched her own cheeks, leapt off from bed, and ran to the bright windows. It was real alright, and the outcome was exactly what she wanted. Questions about the abrupt fusion from yesterday lingered in her mind. Yet those could be searched for later. Right now, she has to wake up Byleth and tell her about the good news!

Dorothea heard a few knocks on the door. Her ecstatic state rendered her capability to critically think to a lesser degree than normal. The young lady opened up the door for their guest.

There stood Edelgard… and Edelgard’s features were… completely red. Unlike yesterday, she rooted herself by the entranceway and coughed into her fist.

“D-Dorothea… I… um… wow, I’m surprised you’re not cold in those undergarments.”

“Under— Oh… Yeah, I don’t sleep with my clothes on.”

“…Anyway, I just wanted to stop by and let you know that we have yet to find the professor— !!!”

The redness that discolored her friend’s face darkened in its shades. Edelgard lost her ability to speak. Dorothea wasn’t sure what the cause was until she glanced over her shoulder.

“Is there something you need?” Byleth asked, her figure going full commando from behind the songstress, blanket just covering her nether region. “I’m sorry I was out of commission yesterday.”

“DOROTHEA…………………..”

‘ Oh goodness… I have a feeling I know where this is going… ‘

“Don’t tell me that the reason our professor went missing was that you were having… sex with her?”

‘ GOD DANG IT. ‘

Dorothea viciously shook her had. “N-NO! W-W-What kind of conclusion— Why— How did you—”

“I mean…” Edelgard motioned to the naked ex-mercenary. “She doesn’t have clothes on… and you don’t have most of yours on either… like yesterday… in her room…”

“#$@&%!!!"

"I know you both partake in these nightly activities... as Hubert and Ferdinand do... but I've never seen the professor out the entire day. You... didn't do her THAT hard, did you?"

"%#$@!!!!!!”

Meanwhile, Byleth tilted her head from behind, unaware of where the conversation was leaning towards. Common sense didn't apply to the warrior. If she casually joked about "night crawling" to Dorothea... there are already problems. Dorothea got down on all four and frantically tried to explain their situation to their house leader.

Least the fusion issue was over with. Sothis shortly stopped by to tell Byleth she accidentally screwed up their inner dynamics and, well, just happened to transcend Byleth into spirit form and inhabit Dorothea’s body. The short female earned a bop on the head from the professor. A very strong one.

As for Edelgard… Dorothea and Byleth found themselves in an awkward relationship with her. Edelgard can’t seem to see them in the eyes anymore…

"Is something the matter?" Ingrid questioned her girlfriend during lunchtime. The two sat right outside of the Mess Hall, their private meals shared with one another. As she took a bite from a slab of meat, the knight lightly elbowed the noble. "Did you both get into a fight?"

"...hardcore..."

"Excuse me?"

"...sex."

"El, just what is going through your mind?"

[besidemethewholedamntime]

Hey Becs! I know it may be not the best timing, but I just thought of the idea where it's Sarah's first day at school and Fitz is like, being a total sap because his babygirl is growing fast! (Jemma's emotional, too!) and maybe you would want to write it? Hope it's okay, and no pressure ♥

Hello! Here it is - so sorry for the long wait. Hopefully it’s worth it! Thank you very much for prompting me :) 

one more step along the world i go

FS + their daughter starting school 

{Read on Ao3}

or read below!

The alarm goes off at 6am. Fitz swots at it severaltimes before it shuts off. Groaning, eyes barely open, he turns to Jemma.

“What the hell?”

She’s also barely awake. Swiping away hair that’sgotten stuck to her face, she yawns loudly. “I don’t know.” Then, suspiciously,“Are we forgetting something?”

“How would I know?” But he racks his brain anyway,trying to sluggishly sort through the mental calendar. It’s so early. Thirtyseconds searching and he comes up blank. He flops back onto the pillow, intenton catching another hour of snooze.

“Uh, Fitz?” Jemma taps him on the leg.

“What?” He tries to say, except it comes out “Wha-”because his tongue is stuck the roof of his mouth and he really really wants to go back to sleep.

“I think I know what we forgot.”

With that he peels his eyes open, follows Jemma’s gazeto the door where their four-year-old stands with her arms crossed, lookingdistinctly unimpressed.

Ah, of course. First day of school. How on earth couldhe have forgotten that?

-x-

The school shoes have sitting nestled amongst tissuepaper in their box for weeks. The school bag has been sitting in pride of placeon the shelf ever since it was bought with Auntie Daisy on a shopping trip. Theschool jumper, with its embroidered crest and emerald glory, arrived a few daysearlier.

This operation has been in the works for months. He’shad so long to get used to the idea of his baby daughter going off to school.Why does his heart feel so funny?

Sarah sits at the table, swinging her legs back andforth while she waits for Fitz to dish up his pancakes that have beencommissioned for such a special occasion. Jemma stands next to him, slicing strawberriesand reaching for the golden syrup. This scene is not unfamiliar, the three ofthem in their roles while breakfast is being made, but he’s suddenly struck byhow it might not be like this for much longer. How, one day, it shall just bethe two of them, alone again.

How funny, that something he used to yearn for withall of his heart, could turn out to be so terrifying in the end.

“Fitz?”

“Hm?” He turns to Jemma who watches him curiously.“What’s up?”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, of course. How come?”

She points in the direction of the frying pan. “Yourpancakes are burning.”

-x-

“Daddy, can you do my hair?”

Fitz looks up to where Sarah stands in the doorway ofthe living room. In her new jumper with her grey skirt and knee-high grey socksshe looks like the cutest thing he’s ever seen in the world. And very grown up.His heart squeezes painfully in his chest.

“Of course, kiddo,” he manages to say. “But I can’t doanything fancy like your mum.”

“I know. But I want you to do it.” She hands him a hairbrushand sits herself down on the floor in front of him.

And because this is Leopold Fitz, and because he’llnever be able to deny his daughter anything, he does what she asks and gentlyplaits her hair into two pigtails and ties them off with the two green bobbleswith bows on the front that were brought specially for this day, also.

Sarah turns around, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Do you think school will be fun, daddy?”

The question takes him back, and he dithers whether ornot to answer honestly or reassuringly. In the end, he settles for honesty.

“I think that you will have the best time,” he says sincerely, voice thickening towards the end.

Sarah’s eyes narrow. “You promise?”

And though he probably shouldn’t, “I promise.”

He kisses her on the forehead. “Now, come on. Let’s goget your mum and make sure you’ve got everything sorted. Don’t want to beunprepared on your first day.”

She laughs, shakes her head. “You’re being silly.Mummy would never let me be unprepared.”

Well, she has a point.

-x-

While Sarah takes a series of ‘good luck’ phone callsfrom the family, Fits goes to find Jemma. She’s been suspiciously absent formost of the morning, even when she’s there she seems lost in her own head. Heprobably knows why but all the same…

Frowning, he pushes open the door of their bedroom.There she sits, on the edge of their bed, photo album open on her lap and hernose sniffling into a tissue.

“Oh, Jemma,” he says, coming to stand beside her. “Areyou really crying?”

“Oh, shut up, Fitz.” She snaps the album shut. “Ofcourse I’m not.” Her red-rimmed eyes peer into his. ”Are you?”

So he had a bit of a wobble on the stairs on the wayup here, so what? It’s not like was mourning into a photo album like his wifehere.

“I’m not,” he says defensively. “I was just – well,it’s hayfever season, isn’t it? Must be all the pollen around this place.”

“Funny how the pollen has never bothered you since thestart of August.” But then she turns back to the photo album, opens it onto apage where it was Sarah’s second birthday. “She’s gotten so big.”

“I know.” His voice has suddenly thickened. “But she’sstill only four. Still little.”

“But she’s growing so fast, and soon she’ll be biggerthan this and she just, she won’t need us anymore.”

Jemma’s eyes are wide, tears gathering at the corners,ready to fall as soon as gravity gets a hold on them. He can’t take her tears,never has been able to. Sitting next to her, putting his arm around her, he hasto try and hold back his own. God, Sarah really was so small.

“She’ll always need us, Jemma. Maybe not to tie hershoelaces or cut up her snacks for her, but she’ll still need us.”

“I know you’re right,” she sighs. “I do. It’s just allso overwhelming. We’re used to having her around all the time and one day shewon’t be around at all.”

“I know.” He kisses the top of her head. “But let’snot think about that today, yeah? It’s her first day of school. We’ve got to bebrave for her.”

“We do.” She kisses him quickly then stands up,straightening her clothes, wiping underneath her eyes. “You know, I’mimpressed, Fitz.”

“You are?”

“Yes,” she nods. “Look at you, being the rock today.Daisy bet me it would be you who would be the emotional wreck.”

He laughs, but catches a glimpse of the photo whereSarah’s behind her birthday cake with him at her side, laughing at her attemptsto blow out her two candles.

“Just give it time, Jemma. Just give it time.”

-x-

The rest of the morning passes quickly. A little tooquickly for his liking.

They take a multitude of pictures. So many in factthat he wonders what they’re going to do with them all. Smiling isn’t a problemthroughout them because Sarah is being her usual self and she’s the funniest,most adorable little creature he could ever hope to have.

But then it comes time to leave and it’s sobering,really. The start of an era. The end of another. He thinks he holds it togetherquite well as they get ready to leave but he must not because Jemma pinches hisarm and hisses, “Keep it together.”

Keeping it together has never been his forte, but thisis not the moment. After all, what he told Jemma was true. Their little girl isgrowing up but she’ll always need them. She’s just growing. They need to growas well.

Sarah gets her bag and her lunchbox and looks at themexpectantly, ready to go.

His heart constricts painfully. Growing may be easiersaid than done, after all.

-x-

In the car Sarah is all blustery and bubbly,excitement spilling out in the form of giggles and breathless unfinishedsentences. It’s only when they get to the school gates, the playground full of similarfamilies dropping their children off that she gets quiet, slipping her handinto her mother’s.

“I don’t want to go,” she says quietly.

They’d prepared for this, talked about how to dealwith it, but it breaks Fitz’s heart to hear his usually so boisterous daughter soundso timid and afraid.

“You’ll have a wonderful time, darling,” Jemma says,kneeling down to be on Sarah’s eye-level. “It’s exactly like nursery is, onlywith more people and you’ll learn more interesting things.”

Sarah scuffs the soles of her new shoes against the asphalt.“But what if I don’t make any friends.”

Fits kneels down also. “I bet all of these otherchildren here are thinking the same thing, too.” He touches her arm. “Don’tworry about making friends today, alright? Just take everything in. There’salways tomorrow.”

She nods, but her bottom lip is still jutting out andthere’s a big fat tear clinging to her lashes. Fitz feels his resolve start to crumble;his own eyes begin to smart. Out of everything he has done in his life, whowould have thought that dropping his daughter off for her first day of schoolwould be the hardest?

Jemma breathes in deeply, taking over. “Daddy and Iwill be here to pick you up at half past twelve, alright? You know what thatlooks like on the clock?”

“Uh-huh,” Sarah mumbles.“Bighand at six, little hand past twelve.”

“That’s right,” Jemma says encouragingly. “No time atall. And then we’re going out for lunch, remember? With your grannies and your grandpa.There’s something to look forward to.”

“Suppose.”

“Little steps, Sarah,” Fitz tells her, swiping thetear that’s falling with his thumb. “They just need to be little-”

“-and in the right direction,” she finishes, looking alittle bit brighter, though her voice is still quiet.

“That’s out girl,” Jemma smiles, hugging her tightlybefore standing up.

The bell goes and a teacher comes out, gently shepherdingall of her freshly-ironed, slightly tearstained little charges into the building.Sarah goes, slowly, but she goes, with her head held high. They watch as anotherlittle girl, a friend from her nursery class, greets her and takes her hand.

“Just keep smiling, Fitz,” Jemma murmurs, waving asSarah looks back to make sure they’re still there. “Just smile.”

Smile while his heart is breaking? It’s good that he’shad such a lot of practice at that.

-x-

“Fitz, will you stop tapping your foot like that?”

“Well, will you stop tapping your pen against the tablelike that?”

They pause, look at each other, sitting at the kitchentable trying to get some work done but really just fretting over everything andnothing.

“Do you think she’s alright?” Jemma asks.

“She’s fine,” Fitz says, but his tone betrays his confidence.

They both sigh, wondering for a second what to do. It’sonly just gone ten.

“I think we have to go food shopping,” Jemma offers. “Shallwe do that now?”

They’ll still be fretting but at least they’ll beproductive about it.

Fitz nods. “Let me just grab my coat.”

-x-

When half past twelve finally rolls around, they’refully prepared.

Prepared for tears and for tantrums. Prepared forpromises never to take her back. Prepared to hear what horrible, disgustingparents they are for dropping her off and leaving her in that place.

When they see her coming to them across the playground,they steel themselves, ready for the onslaught. Instead, they only receive twovery big hugs.

“Hello to you, too,” Jemma laughs, squeezing her back.

“How was it, kiddo?” Fitz asks, nervous for theresponse.

“It was good!” She beams, holding up a drawing to showthem. “We have a class teddy bear – his name is Mr. Pickles and every Friday someonegets to take him home for the weekend and take him on adventures!”

“Wow,” Jemma enthuses. “That sounds like fun.”

Sarah nods, pigtails flying. “Uh-huh. And Krissy fromnursery is in my class and she says tomorrow I can go to hers after school.”

“That’s really great,” Fitz tells her, ruffling herhair.

“Yup. I can’t wait to go back tomorrow.”

Jemma looks to him. “Just like us when we were younger,being enthusiastic about school.”

Fitz laughs. “We’ll have to remind her about this whenshe’s a teenager.”

They each take Sarah’s hands and she babbles to themas they walk to the car, swinging between them as she talks about the colour ofher group to the teacher’s jangly bracelets.

All Fitz can do is look down at her and smile and everybreath is one of relief. Of course, all his worries would be unfounded. Theirdaughter is able to handle anything; she is a Fitzsimmons, after all.

[sherlockmonkeesstartrek]

If You Could Only See Me (Part 1)

(Posted this on ‘Some Small Fics’, but decided to put it on here instead.)

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Based on the Hollies, mentions the Beatles

Finished: Yes!!!

Summary: Niki grew up with a boy named John in Liverpool. Spending much of her life with him and his band, in 1966 she fell in love with the front man of another band.

Or… Did she?

Chapter 1: The Present

The first thing I become aware of is a cut down my bottom lip. I don’t remember when I got it. My lips haven’t been broken, though it’s cold enough to make them all chapped. It doesn’t hurt. I gnaw on it slightly, but nothing. All I feel is the sensation of skin missing, broken in one place. I run my tongue over it, tasting the tender inside flesh.

I don’t recall it bleeding, nor anyone biting it. Aww, that would be hot. I’d run my tongue over it and know exactly who’d done it to me, who’d made me bleed. Alas, things like that haven’t really happened for a while. Allan’s been decidedly vanilla, if he’s been at all interested in that, and I’ve been ok with it. We’re just too tired at the moment. This week has been non-stop. We were on tour. We only got back yesterday in the early hours of the morning and yet we both had to work once we’d gotten a bit of sleep. Today, we’ve nothing to do, and though it might be nice to finally be intimate, since I’ve missed that a lot, I can’t even bring myself to sit up, never mind wake him and make out. Even if I were to wait for him to wake up, I’d probably fall back to sleep and forget. Really, it’s bad at the moment, not between us, just together, we’re hopeless.

That doesn’t stop me from dreaming, however. As I turn onto my stomach, my eyes shut tight, my bones creaking, I think about having him. I ache for it, I do, almost as much as I ache for sleep. I think about him having me, pushing me up against the cold walls of the shower while a hot spray cleans us both, yet I am content in the prospect of being turned on my side, my leg hooked over Allan’s and him lazily fucking me like that. I feel his body over me, a leg up by my butt, an arm over my shoulders, his nose buried in my neck. His warm breath spreads over the base of my skull.

You know what? I’m perfectly happy to just fall back to sleep now, imagining all the wonderful ways Allan could have me. I imagine that he already has and we are drifting off in the wake of a post-climax glow.

Content, I shuffle onto my side, careful not to move Allan too much. He is deep in a well-earned sleep. I would hate to be the one to wake him. I cannot, however, ignore my urge to press a kiss on his cheek. I pry open my sleep-lined eyes to make sure I’m aiming for the right place, and the sight that greets me causes my brain to falter. It’s quite sunny and bright. I must’ve slept for much of the morning. My eyes take a moment to adjust, but even before they have, the blurry, unfocused view presents something very wrong.

Fair hair in place of dark brown. Facial hair where I know there to be none. A mouth like that of a hamster’s and a thin, pointed nose and a long face, all of which I recognise, but not as Allan. No. I find myself in bed, about to kiss the cheek of his best friend. My eyes dart around. I realise I’m not even at home. What the hell!

Groggily, I sit up. My stomach turns. Am I that girl? Am I such an awful person to have unconsciously slept with my boyfriend’s best friend? I am well aware of the fact that I’m not a particularly ‘good’ person. I’ve had my fair share of selfish, rude and generally awful acts, and not all of which I can attribute to the fact that I live in an era now where certain things are more accepted than others- after all, I’ve been surrounded by rock stars all my life, bad behaviour taught or learnt, I’ve always been around it. This, however, I don’t remember at all. I’ve always been loyal and faithful. I’d never sleep with anyone other than Allan (unless he said I could, of course) least of all with Graham fucking Nash. Of all people!

Was I drunk? Was I high? I seriously consider it, though I don’t drink nor take drugs. I don’t even remember being anywhere I could’ve got spiked at. I was at home last night. And Graham hates me as much as I do him. Why would he even try to spike me? Perhaps he didn’t, and the night was just so awful, I blocked it from my memory. But what, what in the world would have persuaded me into Graham Nash’s bed? Why am I even at his house?

Oh, this is all too weird. I feel sick to my stomach with shame and guilt, though I’m sure I didn’t knowingly sleep with Graham. No one is going to look at this situation and see where I am coming from. Everyone will think me a liar.

While I try to think up some way out of this awful circumstance, I consider the big bedroom, the double bed. Actually, I’ve got to say, this doesn’t look anything like Graham’s place. Are we at a hotel? The leaking, built in wardrobes and messy cluttered beside tables tell me no. Are we at a friend’s place? The fact that I see trinkets belonging to Graham, as well as several clothes I’ve seen him wear, I guess that is a no too. Weird. More than weird. The nauseous feeling doubles. Nothing, nothing is right.

On the bedside table closest to me, I’m shocked to find my usual assortment of necklaces and bracelets I hardly ever wear. They’re all presents I keep in the draws of a small mirror jewellery box I’d had since I was a young girl. That sits at the very back of the table. In front, my two slender watches are dumped, one with a gold face that my sister gave me, the other with a grey, leather strap from my dad. They curl around each other like intertwining snakes, the grey one on top, as it was the last one I wore. In front of those are my two current notebooks. One is a hardback with gold polka dots on its cover, while the other is leather bound with engraved silver letters reading ‘notes.’ Both mine, both half full of meaningless scrawls written in my special black and silver fountain pen which sits atop the leather bound one, diagonal with the lid off. My wallet and keys are piled beside a lamp with a pearlescent white shade.

Not everything is mine, though. Attached to my keyring is a key I don’t recognise. It doesn’t open any door I’ve ever had to unlock. And there is a ring on top of my jewellery box. It has a twisted effect on it that makes it look similar to rope. I was never gifted anything even remotely like that, and I’d never buy myself a ring. I don’t wear them.

This is so uncomfortable. So unsettling. Why the hell is all my stuff here? Why would I have brought it? Even if it was just one of these things, why would I have had the impulse to bring it with me?

It gets even worse when cast my gaze to the floor. I had hoped to see a set of clothes I’d taken off last night- because it becomes apparent to me very quickly that I am not actually clad in anything apart from the bedsheets right now- which would make a speedy exit more possible. Unfortunately, I am faced with several day’s worth of my own clothes, dumped on the floor. I may be untidy, but I rarely leave that much lying around. And I certainly don’t leave my things all over someone else’s bloody floor. The clothes that aren’t mine, mixed in all the mess, I know to be Graham’s, about a week’s worth.

My tired, overwhelmed mind asks, ‘did I say here all week?’ I shake that thought away. I know what I’ve been doing all week. The band has been on tour and I went with them. Technically, Graham’s stuff shouldn’t be here either, unless he leaves his stuff all over the floors when he goes away. But that opens up even more questions I don’t have the capacity to even consider.

I have to prevent myself from screaming in confusion as I look up at the wall. A calendar hangs on a single, bent pin pushed into the wall paper. It shows a lovely sunset over some American horizon, as well as telling me that it’s September 1967, the same month, year, even day- since someone has ticked the days past- as when I went to sleep. Just… what?

As I stare helplessly at it, I feel something crawl up my back. The mattress behind me dips and a pair of arms wrap around me, lips brushing the back of my ear.

“You know we don’t have to get up yet, Luv.” Graham’s distinctive voice tells me that this is no dream. It’s as real as it can get. I feel his breath hitting the back of my neck, his words vibrating into my skin. He called me ‘luv.’ I shiver.

“No.” I mutter, “I do.” I go to toss the duvet off my body, when I remember that I’m still naked. No way Graham is going to get to see any more than he has already. I reach down beside and grasp a thick, grey jumper to cover my nakedness. As I put it on, I push Graham’s hands off of me. I see the surprise in his expression, but he still tries to be cool.

“Oh, at least don’t get dressed.” He groans. I shoot him a filthy look as I pull the duvet from me and kick my legs off the bed. Before I stand, I see a mixture of confusion and concern in his eyes. It looks very uncharacteristic for him, really unsettling. It’s like he genuinely doesn’t get why I’m suddenly so angry, like he doesn’t remember who I am, not only to him, but to his best fuckingfriend. Why, why would I ever be so friendly to him the morning after I’d cheated on the man I loved with him?

My legs feel weak as I stumble around the bed in search for a bathroom. Upon getting to my feet, a great pressure as heavy as an elephant weighs down on my bladder. I need to pee, yet have no recollection of where the loo is.

From behind me, Graham pipes up, “What are you…” I hear the swipe of the duvet being dragged off him too. The floor creaks a little as he stands up and his bare footfalls pad across it, heading towards me, “Are you ok?” With him trying to follow, I quicken my search, finally catching glimpse of tiles glinting in the low light feeding in through an ajar door. I push it open and leap in. The lock on it looks ancient and squeaks stiffly as I try to put up a wall between me and him. After putting all my weight behind it, I manage to pull it closed, finally feeling safe.

That is until I flick the light on and turn around. On a shelf on the wall, shower products are lined up. Many are brands I use, including a perfume I (try to) wear every day. My toothbrush stands in a translucent red cup beside the sink, with another one crossing over it.

As much as I need to pee, I also need to have a good scream. I don’t, I just knot my fingers in my hair and pull. I must be going fucking crazy.

But so is Graham. He calls in a half joking, half concerned tone, “Will you open up, Luv? I need to piss!”

“Fucking wait!” I squeal furiously. I cannot believe he’d think I’d ever open the door. Having sex is one thing. Doing your fucking business in front of someone is entirely another, something most people never do. Even angrier, I add, “And stop calling me ‘luv.’”

He falls silent. I pee in peace, though I can feel his bloody presence on the other side of that door. I can practically hear his brain struggling to find something else to say. To calm myself and try to piece together what that fuck is going on here, I recall the day previous.

In the early hours of Saturday morning, Allan and I had gotten home and fell asleep on the sofa. Neither one of us, once the acceptable morning hours came, wanted to wake, yet we heaved each other up with false words of encouragement and kisses. We almost made out when we shared a shower, but once more we were too tired and to concerned about the rest of the day for it to turn too interesting. I went to work dressed in the few clean clothes that awaited me at home after the tour, was hungry as soon as I got there as I’d skipped breakfast and I didn’t end up eating until lunchtime. When I came home, Allan was making dinner. We sat in front of the TV and promised each other we’d do nothing tomorrow, since we really had nothing on. Before conking out once more on the sofa, I persuaded Allan it was best we actually got into bed, so we dragged each other up the stairs, took off some, but not all, of our clothes, and lost consciousness almost as soon as our heads hit the pillows.

I didn’t go out. I hadn’t seen or spoken to Graham, or any of the band, since those early hours of the morning we came back from the tour. I certainly didn’t turn up at his… or whoever’s house, nor did I bring all my stuff with me to throw all over the floor… or set up on the bedside table… or stand on the shelf of the bathroom. This doesn’t make any sense at all.

Ok, if it weren’t for all my shit being here, I could explain this whole situation away, chalk it up to my first experience with sleepwalking or- more likely- an awful lack of any judgement. Even though the implications of that is pretty bad, I’d take having to get down on my knees and beg Allan to take me back despite me having slept with his best friend over… whatever I can call this fucking mess.

I dread heading out of the small, cool room into the oddly cosy bedroom, where Graham stands in wait for me, but I do, without hesitation. I’ve decided, I’ve got to see Allan. I have to explain to him what happened, even if I don’t know myself. I just feel like everything will fall into it’s right place if I see him. He’s always been the sensible one, the shy, sane one out of us two. Even if he’ll kill me, I’ve got to see him.

As I walk passed Graham, he caresses my cheek tenderly. Something else that I don’t get right now is why he’s being so… nice. Has he fallen for me? Poor boy has slept with me once and cares about me now? How sad. I brush him off as I look for a pair of trousers; I won’t bother with underwear. I just want to get the fuck out of here.

“Are you ok?” He asks again, his voice now displaying an undercurrent of frustration. I don’t answer, which doesn’t shut him up as I had hoped, “Bad dream?”

A wash of defensiveness rushes over me. Had I the ability to form coherent sentences I would’ve retorted, asked why the fuck he’d think I’d ever tell him if I’d had a restless night. He should assume as much. I have been in his bed after all.

Then he adds, “You used to get them when you were a kid, didn’t you?”

And I can’t hold myself much longer.

“What?” I spit. He looks wholly bewildered at my reaction, unable himself to think of an answer. I turn back to pulling on a pair of leggings just as he pulls be back into conversation.

“Niki, seriously, are you ok? You’re scaring me.” “I’m scaring you?” I parrot, furiously, then calm a little, “Look, whatever happened last night, can we forget about it. I’ve got to…”

He cuts in, “What happened? Are you sure you didn’t have a bad dream?”

“No, I fucking didn’t!” I cry. I’m getting nowhere! I want to get the fuck out.

Still stunned, he tries to calm me by suggesting, “Look, let’s just get up… have some breakfast, ok? I’ll cook.”

It’s in that moment, I realise he’s not going to get it, he won’t leave me alone. I don’t know what’s got him so clingy, but I have to take a different approach to this. Without saying anything, I nod in agreement and slowly sit on the bed as though I’ve calmed. He then tells me he’s just going to pee, giving me a small kiss before he goes. He doesn’t close the door properly- fucking gross- but he can’t see me, so I dart with nimble, silent movements, picking up a pair of socks off the floor as I make for the corridor outside of the room. I hurry down the stairs so quick I almost trip over my own movements.

Luckily, the front door is right at the bottom of the stairs. Unluckily, I’m stumped once again by what I see. There are two other doors, one leading into a living room, the other into a kitchen. More trinkets, more clothes, more décor meet my eyes. In the space between them, the tiny hallway at the bottom of the stairs, several coats hang on metal hooks. Some I know to be mine, one I wear practically daily, a blue trench coat with deep pockets big enough to hold A5 notebooks, which hangs in front of all the others. I pick that coat up, pull it on, then look despairingly below the others. There is a messy rack of shoes, again, a mixture of Graham’s and mine. I choose a pair of boots I can slip on and walk in without doing them up.

Suddenly, I hear Graham’s footsteps pound down the stairs. I peer over my shoulder, panicked. He stands three steps from the bottom floor, pulling on a flowy beige shirt, decorated with a series of hippy bead applique around the neck line. Other than that, he’s naked. Like a kid- and for the first time in my adult life- I shy away from the sight, instead looking desperately at the door.

“Niki, come on, it’s Sunday. Where the fuck are you going?”

Worked up, panicked and desperate, I clear my tear-clogged throat to reply, “To see Allan,” before swiftly pulling up the latch of the front door and squeezing through the tiny crack I open it to. There are a small set of three steps I almost hurl myself down, but I manage to grasp hold of a banister and safely get down onto the pavement.

Shit. I didn’t quite think this far. I’m faced with a street I don’t know, a set of houses I’ve never seen, no informative street signs and no sense of direction. I don’t even know if I’m in London! I mean, I assume I am. I look around at the other buildings surrounding and… I guess I am. But I’m hopeless. I’ve no idea where I am, I’ve no idea where Allan is, I’ve no idea where my home is. Basically, I’m lost, running from someone I think I’ve slept with. Graham will no doubt be following me out any second, so I have to be gone, but I don’t know where. Fuck!

I thrust my hands into my pockets and speed walk in a direction that looks as though it might lead to a main road. If I can get a taxi, I might be able to try and work out where the hell I am and go from there.

Then, as I’m hurrying along the quiet street, my fingers clasp around something in my pocket. I can feel coins, a tissue, and then something hard, like cardboard, with a dip in the middle. The dip seems to be made up of sections, many, thin section. I recognise it just by its feel. It may only be that old address book I got given a while back, but it feels like a lifesaver. I’m so glad that, not only do I always have it on me, I always have a pen too. I write down the details of all my friends in it, anyone important that I’ve met, anyone I want to stay in contact with. I also have mine and Allan’s home address in there, because I’m awful at remembering it. For once, I’m so glad I can be absentminded and write everything down. I pull the book out and flick through it’s pages.

Allan is there! My god, I could cry. I don’t, because I’m on a mission, but I could. I really could just sit down on the side of the road and bawl my eyes out. To stop myself, I walk a little quicker and glance, every so often, at a different page of my book. There are names in there that I do not know, people I’ve never met before. By Allan’s name, there is a someone called Jen with no address, no number, no last name. On the ‘E’ page, Eric Haydock is written in my handwriting. He was the old bassist for the Hollies before Bern, before I’d met the band. I was never acquainted with him, so why was he in my book, with a number scrawled there too? That’s not too weird, I guess. Of all the things that has happened today, finding a name in a book is hardly even shocking. What is annoying, however, is the feeling that I’m missing people. I can’t think who. It’s like they’ve been wiped from my book, so they’re wiped from my memory too.

It takes me a while to find somewhere I can hail a cab. One pulls up and the driver, a rough-spoken man, seems to know the address as I read it out to him. He knows the street.

“’s not too far from here.” He says and pulls out onto the road. The amount of traffic is minimal. People don’t usually go out on Sundays. I’m thankful, though I also half wish the journey would’ve taken longer. As soon as I’d done my part of speaking, placed my mission in someone else’s hand for the moment, a tear runs down my cheek. Once the first one is out, a whole stream follows. I bawl helplessly into my hands, unable to organise my thoughts, unable to see a clear course of action. It dawns on me, as does everything else, that seeing Allan may solve nothing. I don’t know what could possibly happen.

Mostly, I wish the journey was longer, so I’d have enough time to dry my tears before I go and see Allan. It is, however, not too short so that I don’t get to take in the surroundings. This is London, of course. The black cab gave it away. It’s a part I’m not properly familiar with, but at least I’m somewhere, a city, that I know. That narrows the number of unknowns down. Not too much, still too much to count, but I’ll take anything, anything that makes me feel more comfortable.

We end up down a street that looks pretty much the same as the one I’d escaped from. The driver helps me find which house exactly is Allan’s- I lean over to the front of the cab and show my address book to him, while he points out homes in hope that I can read the number beside the front doors. I then get out and find myself alone, standing on the doorstep of a nice looking home, beside a car in the driveway. I get that feeling, as if it ever left, that something is very wrong, but I’m still full of hope. I knock on the door.

Allan opens it pretty quickly. God, I almost cry when I see him, his dark, curly hair, his narrowed brown eyes adjusting to the light from outside, the half-smile on his lips. Without thinking twice, without even looking at him twice- I don’t need to, he looks so normal, which is such a pleasant change for me- I throw my arms around his neck and bury my face in his chest. I manage not to cry.

“Erm… hey Niki.” He mumbles, awkwardly. Almost instantly, that feeling of normality, the comfort of familiarity fades away. His arms hang loosely around my waist and he parts the embrace really quickly. He has yet to kiss me or even invite me in. “Are you ok?”

“Yes…” I say automatically, before my brain kicks in, “No… I’ve really no idea, Luv. I just need to see you and…” tears threaten again, so I bite my lip.

Allan seems like he doesn’t know what to do. It’s very unsettling. He knows me… or knew me, so well. Unsteadily, he steps aside and gestures, “Come in.”

How can he be as confused as I am? I hate it. As I walk through the dark hallway, I glimpse him to make sure he is my Allan. He’s dressed in a button up shirt he probably slept in and a pair of dark, soft-looking trousers with an elasticated waist that he no doubt pulled on to answer the door. He rarely wears much in bed, or, at least, he never did with me. As he shuts the door, I notice faint lines in his hair, which looks to me like he’s brushed it a little. He must’ve been awake before I turned up, yet it’s early on a Sunday. What reason would he have to be up?

He slips in front of me and guides me into what appears to be the only lit room, a joint kitchen/living space. A low, orange light beats down over in the living area, where two brown sofas are positioned at 90-degree angles from each other. The windows are all covered with brown blackout blinds, but floral curtains are already drawn letting in a little sunlight from outside. The rest of the room is mostly in darkness until Allan stands in the door way and lets me walk in. He flicks on the rest of the lights.

“Sorry.” I hear him say, “Jen’s not up yet.”

Jen? That girl in my address book. That’s why she didn’t have an address or number attached to her name. She lives here? With my Allan? My heart thumps like Bobby Elliot banging his drums on stage of a Hollies concert. Still, I don’t have much time to connect all the dots. Allan continues talking.

“Take a seat. You want something to drink?”

Allan hasn’t sounded this much like he was playing host since that first night he asked me round to his place. That was early 66. He was so stupidly shy, and sweet. So nervous. Probably because he knew I was taken, technically, by John Lennon.

John. The Beatles. That’s who was missing in my address book. That’s who I’d forgotten. My John, my Paul and George and Ringo. The boys I’d grown up with. How could I? How could they be written out of my history? My whole existence, my past, I could feel it slip away and nothing replaced it. I have no idea who I am.

Allan’s voice steals me away from my sudden crisis, “Niki?”

I realise I haven’t answered him.

“Erm, no thanks.” I say, taking a seat on the sofa by the arm. He’s very awkward and cautious and quiet as he perches on the other end, facing me. I try to smile at him. The best he can do back is half grin.

“I… um… just got a call from Graham.” He tells me. He sounds oddly calm about it.

“Oh God,” I groan in embarrassment and shame, “What did he say?”

His eyes dart away from mine, “He said you weren’t feeling yourself. And… you wanted to see me?” He sounds confused about the latter.

“Why would I not?”

“Well, Graham…”

Before he can continue, I roll my eyes in frustration and snap, “I’m sorry, but last time I checked, Graham wasn’t my fucking keeper.” Allan looks taken aback. It must be the first time I’ve ever spoken to him like that. We’ve rarely ever fought, and I’ve rarely ever been so angry. He has, but he hardly ever has taken it out on me. I feel bad. Quietly, I add, “You were,” in an attempt to remind him of us. But he takes a moment to reply.

“I don’t… understand.”

This is all very wrong. I can’t keep my cool much longer. I throw my head into my hands and mutter to myself, “Of course, you don’t, just like Graham suddenly actually cares about me and I fucking…” My voice trails off and my eyes begin to squeeze tears from the corners. I must look insane, but Allan is too polite, too caring to butt in. Calmly and fondly, he shuffles up closer, still a bit uptight, and he places a hand over my own.

“Graham… loves you.” He chuckles, lightly, though warily in case I take it the wrong way. I manage not to explode at him.

“You did.” I insist helplessly.

He doesn’t get it, of course. This whole day is so fucked up, I can’t take it anymore. I cannot stand the way he smiles softly at me, patronisingly as though I’m a kid talking nonsense.

“Of course, I do.” He says, “But in a different way. Come on,” He laughs, “Graham would kill me if I loved you like that!”

“Since when!” I growl.

Still calm, Allan responds, “Since 1950. For, like, 17 years.”

“But…” I feel my whole past being rewritten, “I only met you guys last year. I was… with the… Beatles”

Embarrassment washes over me, pinks my cheeks and laughs at me as Allan, very kindly, explains that I never met the Beatles, not properly. I’d seen them once or twice at the studio, they all had, the whole band. The only one who’d properly talked to them was Graham. That was before the whole ‘If I Needed Someone’ situation. Now the bands refused to talk to each other, and I refused to talk to them too. I didn’t know them, I didn’t have their numbers or addresses, I’d never been withJohn Lennon. Four wonderful men, huge parts of my life, my teenage years, my childhood in Liverpool, the early 60s in Studio 2. All gone, explained away. And Allan had not only summed up my entire new, confusing, alien life in around five minutes, but he isn’t as big a part of it as his best friend is. The man I had practically hated, or at the very least, tolerated on the rare occasion, was now my boyfriend, my partner, had been since we’d been old enough to understand the word.

Meanwhile, Allan was married.

A medium-heighted, wide-smiling girl with dyed blonde hair came padding slowly down the stairs, her steps so soft we hardly heard her. Jen leans prettily in the doorway and waves hello, blowing a kiss at Allan before she sees me.

“Hello Niki!” She cheerily exclaims, “I didn’t know you were coming round.”

I couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge her. My eyes darted from her to down to Allan for an explanation. Then I caught sight of a glinting gold band around his ring finger.

My heart stopped beating.

“Is Graham here too?” She innocently asks. I see Allan shake his head furiously, telling her to change the subject, but the damage is already done, I’m already hurt, just by her presence, not even by her words.

“No, just Niki. Will you get some tea?” Allan deflects the question and Jen, smiling, walks over to the kitchen area. While her back is turned, he tries to ask if I want to go into another room, but he can’t even catch my gaze. I’m staring at him, not seeing. Tears burn the back of my throat.

I have to leave.

Without a word, I get up. I wrap my coat around me, hands thrust into the pockets, and I head for the door.

“Niki.” Allan calls after me. I hear Jen turn around and ask what the matter is. Allan doesn’t answer her. He follows me into the hallway. I pull open the door and don’t look back, I can’t stand to, I can’t stand this Allan, this version of him who doesn’t know me as he should. This whole world is fucked. My life is now fucked.

I hop out into the street, turning my coat collars up to hide my tear stained cheeks. I’ve no idea where I am, not only physically, but mentally too.

Why, if this is my life, do I remember another as though it were real? Why, if this is not my life, do others think that it is and why has everything changed overnight? And why, if this is a dream, have I not woken up by now? Why, when I can feel very real pain right now? My chest aches, my lungs burn, my head throbs with all these questions swimming inside it. And what can I do now? I don’t have Allan to talk to. I can’t imagine unloading all this onto Graham. I don’t have the Beatles, nor Bri- Brian Epstein- who I adored. Who, who can I look to for a slice of normality?

I open my address book while standing across the road from a telephone box. I’ve walked a few blocks from Allan’s home and I’ve decided I need someone I can vent all my frustration onto, someone who could also pick me up, perhaps. A friend whose relationship with me could not have changed over the course of this switch. I file through the names in my book. They go back as far as Allan and Graham’s childhood in Salford, most I’d heard in passing conversations, almost always from Allan’s mouth, his friends, even some of his family. Being written in would suggest that I knew them too. Others, I really have no idea who they are. I skip over them. The pages fall to the ‘H’ section and there is scrawled an answer to who I could call.

Tony Hicks.

God, that boy would listen. I’m sure of it. He’ll listen to me, even if only because he is too polite and sweet to tell me to shut up. He’s kind, a good laugh, a good friend, as well as being a fucking epic guitarist. I hurry across the road, dip into my coat pockets to find some money and dial his number as I get into the phone box.

He picks up in a few rings, though it feels like forever between the last number I press and the sound of his voice. I don’t bother with pleasantries, I’m too desperate, too excited.

After he says hello, I ramble into, “Tony, it’s Niki. Do me a favour. I really need to come and talk to you, ok?”

“Ok…” He sceptically replies. He’s quiet. I think he’s been asleep. I feel bad for waking him, if I did.

“Please, if Graham or Allan phone, don’t pick up! They think I’m insane, and I might be, but I have to talk to someone.” I sound so desperate, my tone choked and hurried. I think he picks up on it. He sounds a little more awake when he speaks again, as though the fear in my voice has jogged his brain into gear.

“Are you ok?”

God, if I hear that question one more time! No, I’m not ok, I’m not. I know he’s trying to be nice. I know that everyone is, but it’s a dumb fucking question, because everyone expects you just to say yes, and if you don’t, if you say no, you look like you’re just grasping for attention. Still, maybe I want attention at the moment, just someone to listen.

“No,” I admit, “Just… please. I’ll be over soon.”

“Where are you? I’ll come and get you. That means I won’t be here if the others call.”

I sigh. It’s the first time I’ve felt content since this morning, before I turned around and realised I was locked in a hug with Graham Nash. I could cry from the relief. This may not bring my life back, it may not change anything, but Tony’ll listen to me and help straighten things out, even if he too thinks I’m crazy.

“Ok,” I say, “Ok thank you.” Then I tell him the name of the street, “It’s near Allan’s. I’ll explain once you get here.”

“OK. See you in a minute.”

I’ve no way of telling the time- I didn’t bring either of my watches. I forgot underwear, never mind a watch. It’s cold out. Bracing September air blows past me. Everything seems to hang in it, every uncertainty. I won’t know when Tony shows up; I don’t know which car is his. I don’t know what he’ll look like, who he might be with. God, he could be married for all I know.

I just let time tick by, not thinking of how slow or fast, hardly thinking at all. I watch every car that passes, every person as I stand rigidly against the wall of someone’s home. My arms are crossed over my chest, my legs crossed at the ankles. I find myself rocking to keep me warm, like a madman. A song plays in my head, ‘If I Needed Someone.’ I always liked both versions of the song. I always thought the Hollies did a good job of it, almost as good as the Beatles. I remember when they were recording Rubber Soul, I’d beg the three boys, John, George and Paul, to do the beginning of Nowhere Man for me. It was the first time I’d consciously listened to people do a three-part harmony until I started listening to the Hollies. But none of this happened.

As I say, I’ve no idea how long I stand there. Perhaps half an hour. It’s of no really matter, however, and regardless of everything, a car pulls up to the pavement down the road a bit and, though I’m several yards away, I can tell that the man stepping from it is the young-looking Tony Hicks. I practically run at him, bawling into his shoulder.

“Hey,” He croons, “What’s up?”

“Oh God,” I cry when I manage to make coherent sentences, “I’m no idea, I think I’m going crazy.”

“I highly doubt that.”

[well-wail-whale]

God Emperor of Dune Summary + Review: Why the Sci-fi Classic Series Stagnates With Its 4th Book

It’s been a while since I read a Dune book. I stopped reading the series after Children of Dune, the concluding book in the original Dune trilogy. I loved the series, but felt a drop in quality after Dune Messiah and the drop continues with God Emperor of Dune. SPOILERS GUARANTEED BELOW. 

First of all, the 4th book takes place 3,500 years after the events of the 3rd book. In addition to that, book three kind of jumped the shark based on what I’ve been used to with the Dune.

Throughout the entire three books we were exposed to all types of science fiction concepts, light speed travel, prescience, cloning, giant sandworms, a spice that controls the known universe, and a toddler with the memories of her ancestors that acts like an adult.

But with Children of Dune we were introduced to the young child Leto II squishing sandtrouts onto his skin until it covered his whole body. The squished sandtrout morphed him into a super human with the ability to leap across dunes at high velocity with enhanced strength. This is the point of decline for the series for me.

Leto II also has the memories of all his ancestors unlocked through a series of events which allowed him to take power away from his now corrupted aunt, Alia, establishing himself as the eternal leader of the Atreides empire.

He enacted a plan called “The Golden Path” that would ensure humanity’s survival throughout time. His plan spans more than 3,500 years and with God Emperor of Dune we get a glimpse of the final year of Leto II’s reign. Since the 4th book took place 3,500 years into the future it was hard to overlook the lack of detail about the universe Frank Herbert brought us into. Herbert had always been great at describing the landscape, the people, the institution, and the world that Dune takes place in. However God Emperor of Dune is the opposite of the usual Herbert. A majority of it takes place in dialogues with less and less descriptions of the world. It’s upsetting that he’d make us fall in love with Dune, jump us 3,500 years, and give us scraps of the future Dune world. On top of that, all the main characters of the past are dead except for Leto II (I forgot to mention that he’s kind of immortal and survived all those 3,500 years) and the million clones of Duncan Idaho that Leto II had manufactured to breed the Atreides and Idaho blood together.  So with the 4th book we’re starting off fresh with Leto II, whose become a god character with little physical and intellectual flaws, leading humanity into a new era. It sounds better than it reads. The actual movements of the book are about Duncan dealing with Leto II’s questionable rule and Siona, an Atreides descendant also rebelling against Leto II’s empire.

So this puts the plot at a terrible place. We have Leto II as an infallible, but intriguing character. He’s enamored by an Ixian ambassador (who was manufactured to charm Leto II). The romance feels forced and Hwi herself is a flawless character but understanding of the crushing isolation that Leto II has dealt with since he’s set humanity on the Golden Path. 

Hwi also falls in love and charms Duncan and they later have an affair that Leto II finds out about. There’s no real punishment for this for either Duncan or Hwi. Hwi makes it known to Leto II that she still has physical urges that Duncan can not satisfy. Leto, after 3,500 years, has slowly turned into the primordial form of a sandworm. He is gigantic in size compared to humans and has lost all his human organs and shape except for his face. Since he has no genitalia, he can’t satisfy Hwi even though they’re due to be married.

Since Leto II is all knowing of the future, few things are able to happen outside of his knowledge. Along with his psychic-like ability to read human emotions, he’s practically omniscient. Except his enemies create a device that prevents him from seeing their actions and that he’s bred his lineage to become invulnerable to prescience. The culmination of his own breeding program is Siona.

Siona is a rebel and enacts violent action within Leto II’s kingdom that he allows because he knows she’s the future of humanity. By creating a breed of human that is immune to prescient visions, he saves humanity from self-destruction. Except the way the story plays out is deadpan.

Leto II is boring because he’s a flawless character. There’s little emotion that can be related with him. Herbert does a good job of letting us see his loneliness caused by his devotion to the golden path but it’s not something that carries the novel. Leto II gives us the Herbert classic of lengthy political and religious dialogue, pondering humanity’s place in the universe, but that gets repetitive after 400 pages. This style of dialogue has gotten tiresome since we’ve seen it for four straight books now. We’re kept in the dark with Leto II’s plan until the end.

Duncan is the best of the cast because he’s been cloned for thousands of years. However his memory goes as far as his initial death in the first book, meaning he always has to be reintroduced into the world. His cloning is done without his own permission and he’s forced to play apart in Leto II’s plans. Duncan is the closest we get to a true protagonist because of the tragic manipulation of his life.  He carries a hardy allegiance with the Atreides but soon finds out that Leto II is not governing like a true Atreides would. His disagreement with Leto II leads him on a quest to assassinate the God Emperor worm with the help of Siona. It wouldn’t be the first time Duncan tries to kill the emperor either which is how his previous clones have died.

Siona is a new Paul Atreides. She’s the capable, rebellious, and the resilient leader against Leto II. She understands how Leto II has put the universe into a box and hindered everyone’s freedom through his governance. Leto II allows her to play a role in the rebellion because she’s the key to the future. Through coercive measures, Leto II finds a way to make Siona try the spice and she experiences the Golden Path. Siona, convinced of his path, joins him as the commander of his military army known as Fish Speakers (who are all women). 

Duncan and Siona never suffer. No one really suffers throughout this story which is why it plays so slow and dragging. We don’t feel any urgency in the story because of the way Herbert structured it. Threats feel small because of the omniscience of Leto II. 

What obstacles does Duncan face? Trying to understand Leto II’s plan for the most part. He has no solid objective in front of him because he’s confused for a majority of the story. It’s not until the end that when he teams up with Siona that we see him form a plan and get excited to see it flourish or fail.

Siona is similar. While she does have an obstacle, which would be defeating Leto II it’s never expressed through her lens. All we see is how Leto II crushes her revolts and prepares her for his trial that leads to her consuming the spice. We don’t see her making an individual plan until the very end with Duncan. 

The ending assassination involves Siona and Duncan betraying Leto II’s trust that Leto is either unable to foresee or allows to happen as part of his grand plan. In the process they kill his to-be wife, Hwi, and drown Leto II in water which is now a poison to him because of his sandworm body. It turns out to be the best part of the novel because it gives us Siona and Duncan taking agency for once from beginning to end and getting the result of Leto II’s demise.

However the ending isn’t enough to make up for the event-less and shallow feeling that the entire book gives me. The novel raises plenty of philosophical messages as it strays away from ecological focus that the first three Dune books are known for. 

And that’s another magical factor that is now lost in the series. It’s no longer about terraforming the planet and helping the Fremen survive. It’s about helping humanity survive. By expanding the breadth of House Atreides’ goal and removing the ecological interest in Dune, we get less than before.

I can’t feel for the struggle of humanity’s survival as I did with the Fremen survival in the first trilogy. I got to know the Fremen up close through the eyes of Paul which made me care in the first place. Herbet’s book is a fantastic take on humanity’s longevity as a race, but it doesn’t give me a reason to care. Since the novel unfolds through the all-seeing eyes of Leto II, readers become observers rather than participants. The story develops through conversations 90% of the time and, even with Herbert’s philosophically juicy dialogue, it leaves me of more substance.

Do I love the world and politics? Yes. Do I love/hate the characters of Dune?No. I feel indifferent to most of them aside from the Han Solo-esque Duncan Idaho and that means that Herbert failed to give captivating characters to drive the story.

I don’t know if I’ll read the 5th or 6th book. Those book enter into a different plot arc than did the first four. I’ll likely just read other works by Herbert because for me the series has taken a fall that it can’t recover from.

[placetobenation]

As King Corbin aptly said on Friday Night Smackdown, NXT is all anyone can talk about! It’s true, it’s damn true to quote the man that Corbin retired, Kurt Angle.

Who’s going to attack who. Who’s going to show up where. Who’s going to face each other at Survivor Series. There are plenty of storylines to answer those questions. And the interest is growing! Just look at NXT’s ratings for Wednesday night as they pulled almost even (822,000 to 813,000 according to Nielsen) in viewers for the Wednesday Night War with AEW. My question is will it only be NXT taking shots at RAW and Smackdown or will over the next two weeks, will we also get RAW taking shots at Smackdown as well in traditional blue vs. red rivalry.

WHAT IS HAPPENING?!?!?!?!?@AJStylesOrg @FinnBalor #WWENXT pic.twitter.com/HY6x5hgBt9

— WWE (@WWE) November 7, 2019

This week, we get a nod to the Bullet Club with an AJ Styles – Finn Balor stare down at Full Sail University. We also get more into what could be the end to Seth Rollins’ babyface days. Days that have seen Seth fighting for, yet failing it seems to capture any and all the major titles in the WWE. At what point will Rollins just lose it? I’m looking forward to it.

This means war.@NXTCiampa, @SuperKingofBros, @RealKeithLee, and ??? will battle #UndisputedERA in #WarGames at #NXTTakeOver! #WWENXT https://t.co/5NnDh0SZKS

— WWE NXT (@WWENXT) November 7, 2019

One spot left. Who's ready to go to war? #WarGames #WWENXThttps://t.co/DoNCsRZ7L4

— WWE NXT (@WWENXT) November 7, 2019

What we’re also looking forward to is War Games! Are we headed towards a War Games between the brands? We already know we have two NXT War Games to look forward to and after all of this week’s excitement and tryouts, 14 of the 16 contestants have been announced. On the women’s side, we’ve got Rhea Ripley, Tegan Nox, Mia Yim, Candice LeRae vs. NXT Women’s Champion Shayna Baszler, Io Shirai, Bianca Belair and TBD. For the men, it’s the Undisputed ERA vs. Tommaso Ciampa, Matt Riddle, Keith Lee and TBD.

Finally, we have a pair of matches set for the upcoming Survivor Series with the RAW vs. Smackdown vs. NXT having a championship theme.

Women’s Champions: NXT’s Shayna Baszler vs. Smackdown’s Bayley vs. RAW’s Becky Lynch

Tag Team Champions; NXT’s Bobby Fish & Kyle O’Reilly vs. Smackdown’s The New Day vs. RAW’s The Viking Raiders

Plus, the WWE Championship is on the line with champion Brock Lesnar facing Rey Mysterio, Jr.

What’s next for The Fiend and the Universal Championship? We may get a clue from across the pond!

Color me a traditionalist, but I’d love to see Survivor Series come back to Thanksgiving Day Night, but I know that will never happen.  

MONDAY NIGHT RAW

RESULTS

Non-Title Match: Charlotte & Natalya defeated Women’s Tag Team Champions The Kabuki Warriors (submission Natalya over Asuka)

Buddy Murphy defeated Cedric Alexander

Andrade & Zelina Vega defeated Sin Cara & Carolina

Rusev defeated Drew McIntyre (DQ when Bobby Lashley interferes)

The OC defeated The Street Profits & Humberto Carrillo

Non-Title Match: RAW Tag Team Champions The Viking Raiders defeated the East Hampton Polo Boys

NXT Title Match: Seth Rollins defeated NXT Champion Adam Cole (DQ when Undisputed ERA interferes)

What we loved:

.@QosBaszler and @BeckyLynchWWE have an INTENSE meeting on #RAW ahead of #SurvivorSeries.@WWENXT continues to make their presence felt! pic.twitter.com/1Fe4OVvWG9

— WWE (@WWE) November 5, 2019

Becky vs. Baszler – If you missed it, go back and watch it! In what could be one of the best pieces of business this week, the RAW Women’s Champ goes face-to-face with the NXT Women’s Champ in a verbal spat not to be missed.

Natalya & Charlotte – As we’ve said in the past, the pairing of these two veterans is a great thing for the Women’s Division. Putting them over in a non-title match over the tag champions means that soon we’ll get a tag team title match between them and The Kabuki Warriors. My question is will we see Paige come back to exact revenge on her former tag team.

Adam Cole – What’s not to like about the NXT Champion? Who else could main event back-to-back shows that aren’t his brand? First, taking out Daniel Bryan on Smackdown and then going toe-to-toe with Seth Rollins on RAW. Well done, BAY BAY!

Rey Mysterio, Jr. – Viva la little man! Mysterio strikes back with his trusty partner, a lead pipe, to exact revenge on WWE Champion Brock Lesnar. And to boot, he should get a title match at Survivor Series.

Dio Maddin – Sticking up for the King, Jerry Lawler is never a bad thing! Unfortunately, Maddin paid the price courtesy of the WWE Champion.

The BRAWL continues between #RAW and @WWENXT! pic.twitter.com/PdqIe03tfL

— WWE (@WWE) November 5, 2019

BASK IN HIS GLORY. @RealKeithLee#SurvivorSeries is for the taking. #RAW #WeAreNXT pic.twitter.com/p45PxGZYxR

— WWE NXT (@WWENXT) November 5, 2019

High flyers – Keith Lee flying high replicating Ricochet in a post-main event melee! Love it!

What we didn’t love:

Another loss for Humberto Carrillo – At some point, Carrillo has to win a match on TV, right? It’s great to face Seth Rollins, AJ Styles and now the OC. But if you lose every match, what does it get you? You have to start building him up with some victories or else it becomes a losing streak like Curt Hawkins.

Another loss for Sin Cara & Carolina – See above. For a feud to be successful, it can’t be one-sided. Yet, this one is.

NXT

RESULTS

Pete Dunne defeated Damian Priest (submission)

Taynara defeated Santana Garrett

Non-Title Match: Champion Shayna Baszler defeated Dakota Kai (submission)

#1 Contender’s Match For The Cruiserweight Title: Angel Garza defeated Tony Nese

Dominik Dijakovic defeated Isaiah Scott

Keith Lee, Matt Riddle, and Tommaso Ciampa vs. The OC (no contest)

What we loved:

Absolute respect to #TheOC who came to “our house,” walked through the front door and tore the place down. The #USChamp and Best Tag Team in the World can hang with @WWENXT. Anyone else who wants to walk through our door better be ready to go. #WWENXT pic.twitter.com/HZDkpWJ52I

— Triple H (@TripleH) November 7, 2019

Welcome to Full Sail, The OC – Way to start the show! AJ Styles, Luke Gallows and Karl Anderson delivering a beatdown to the NXT roster reminiscent of The Outsiders using Rey Mysterio, Jr. as a pinata into a production truck. Then, to lay down the challenge to NXT after a week of NXT taking charge of RAW and Smackdown was needed and well played. And remember, The OC completely got to skip going to NXT before joining the main roster.

Tommaso Ciampa – To the OC: “Welcome to the main roster.” Well done Goldie!

The NXT response – Keith Lee and Matt Riddle are easily making themselves into main event talent every week on NXT. Throw in former champ Tommaso Ciampa and you’ve got a dramatic six-man main event against The OC that ends in a wild melee to a returning Finn Balor.

Welcome to Survivor Series Finn Balor – After a week of wondering where Finn Balor stands on the whole NXT vs. RAW vs. Smackdown rivalry, we now have a slight glimpse into that picture. Balor seemingly came out to help his NXT mates in the main event only to deliver a knockout pele kick to Ciampa, a kick that AJ Styles acknowledges with a “two-sweet” gesture, a nod to their Bullet Club days in Japan. And yes, I love that Mauro Ranollo referenced that on the broadcast, something not usually done since it was pre-WWE days. Could Balor be strattling both sides of the battle?

War Games Build – A heavy concentration on who Shayna Baszler & Rhea Ripley would pick for their team in War Games, including a match between Baszler herself and Dakota Kai – a quality non-title match that made Kai look good and established her into the War Game mix. That match leads to a full out brawl with Ripley’s team and a Mia Yim’s kendo stick save of Team Ripley. With Yim getting the final spot instead of Kai, could we see a turn in Kai’s future after being shunned? Also, how come Baszler doesn’t have her sidekicks, Jessamyn Duke and Marina Shafir on her team? Right now, we’ve got Rhea Ripley, Tegan Nox, Mia Yim, Candice LeRae vs. NXT Women’s Champion Shayna Baszler, Io Shirai, Bianca Belair and TBD.

Angel Garza – A win over Tony Nese nets him an NXT Cruiserweight Championship match next week against Lio Rush. Way to get some heel heat too after the match by slapping Rush instead of shaking his hand. It gives us more than just a match thrown together. Emotion and storyline added to athleticism is always a productive method!

What we didn’t love:

Santana Garrett vs. Taynara – A bit clunky at times, I expected a bit more considering what else we’ve gotten from what is red-hot, stacked women’s division in NXT week after week. Call it an average, albeit short – just four minutes – match and possibly just an off-night.

No update on Johnny Gargano – He is the emotional soul of NXT. Don’t let a week go by without updating his situation after being put out by Finn Balor. Maybe, we’ll just see him as the fourth member of War Games and they’re just waiting for that surprise in a week or two.

FRIDAY NIGHT SMACKDOWN

RESULTS

Smackdown Tag Team Title Match: The New Day defeated The Revival to win titles

Cesaro and Shinsuke Nakamura defeated Ali and Shorty G

Sasha Banks defeated Nikki Cross

Carmella and Dana Brooke defeated Mandy Rose and Sonya Deville to gain spot on Women’s Survivor Series team

King Corbin defeated Roman Reigns

What we loved:

THEY DID IT FOR WOODS!@WWEBigE & @TrueKofi have made #TheNewDay 7️⃣-TIME #TagTeamChampions! #SmackDown @XavierWoodsPhD pic.twitter.com/b3o5AWnBbm

— WWE (@WWE) November 9, 2019

It’s a New Day, New Champs – Kofi Kingston is a champ again as Kofi and Big E reign supreme as Smackdown champions once more. Of course, this will only fuel the IWC rumors that The Revival are headed out in 2020 to AEW or elsewhere.

King Corbin’s heat – Easily the top heel heat on Smackdown. Corbin draws it and the crowd loves to dish it. Having Dolph Ziggler and Bobby Roode help him out could point towards a Survivor Series team grouping in a few weeks.

Walter and The Imperium – As you know, we’re big fans of WALTER from NXT UK and NXT. It makes sense to unleash them at a Smackdown in Manchester, England to further the NXT vs. Smackdown vs. RAW feud. Getting them some TV time with new tag team champs, The New Day and Heavy Machinery makes a lot of sense for the NXT UK Champion WALTER,  Fabian Archer, Marcel Barthel and Alexander Wolfe

Will he stay or will he join – Sami Zayn’s continued pursuit of Daniel Bryan has some legs and some intrigue to it, especially with all of the chaos and uncertainty headed towards Survivor Series. Plus, add in The Fiend attacking Bryan backstage and we could find out our next feud for the new Universal Champion. A Global Faction of Cesar, Nakamura and Bryan led by Zayn mixing with the Firefly Fun House could very well be worth watching.

Different week, same result – NXT Women’s Champion Shayna Baszler attacks Smackdown Women’s Champion Bayley. After a confrontation on RAW with Becky Lynch, Baszler is becoming must-see TV on every show to see who she’s going to take out next.

What we didn’t love:

Fire and Desire Fail – Since when did Mandy Rose and Sonya Deville become jobbers? It seems like they lose every week in some form or fashion. Yes, I realize that’s an exaggeration, but I think they are better than what they are being portrayed. Maybe Sonya Deville would work well as a member of Shayna Baszler’s War Games team? Hmmm…..

Fury and Strowman – So, now we’re supposed to just accept them as a team? We know that Tyson Fury isn’t going to be around much due to his boxing commitments. But after hating each other for a month-plus, they just team up to beat up The B Team of Curtis Axel and Bo Dallas. We’ll chalk it up to a taping in Manchester, England for a fan pop and see where it goes from here.  

LOOKING AHEAD:

Since RAW was taped Friday in Manchester, England after the Smackdown taping, we know there are some things set to unveil Monday night on Veteran’s Day. All we can say, as to not spoil things, is that it could be a K-O of a night.

Thanks for letting us share our thoughts! Shoot me an email at jcrowe567@gmail.com. We’d love to hear you comments and suggestions! You can also check out my blog, The Crowe’s Nest as we delve into more pro wrestling, sports entertainment and the World of Sports. My apologies ahead of time – I AM a Patriots and Red Sox fan! If you’re not down with that, I’ve got TWO WORDS for you… NEW ENGLAND!