#HELLO LEGACY CROSSOVER | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherry-holmes · 2 months ago

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From Salt, Iron, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮: A Supernatural Series

(Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader)

Part 10: Wayward Daughter

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: A glimpse of your life before Dean, and how even then it didn’t feel quite right for you.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Previous chapter

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Word count: +6.1K

Warnings: THE GIF IS MERELY ILLUSTRATIVE, Reader has NOT physical description. Violence typical of the series. Family issues. Allusion to depression and anxiety. Crossover.

A/N: Hello Hunters! I hope this chapter finds you well😁 How do we feel about the last one?🫣

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THEN

You were the middle daughter—always in between.

Not the graceful hope of your father’s legacy like Lottie, nor the charming jewel he paraded at dinners like Bea.

You were simply you: a little too quiet for your father’s liking, a little too strange for your sisters, always caught somewhere in the middle of things you were supposed to be.

There was a time when your mother would tuck wildflowers into your hair and call you her “moon child,” saying your mind was always wandering to places she couldn’t see. But then she died giving birth to the son your father had waited for all his life: a boy who lasted only three days. You were only eight. After that, no one in the house really looked at you the same.

You remember standing outside your father’s study, hands curled into fists in the folds of your dress, listening through the door.

“She’s not like the other two,” your father said. “She’s… unsettled. Wayward, even.” Then a sigh. “Margaret indulged her too much.”

After that, it felt like you learned to fold in on yourself. You’d sit through breakfast and forget to eat. You’d press your fingernails into your palms just to feel something that didn’t ache in your chest. Lottie rolled her eyes when you brought poetry to the table. Bea laughed when you misstepped during dance practice.

“You’ll never find a husband with your head in the clouds,” Lottie said once, her voice sweet but sharp.

And you had smiled. You always smiled. Even when your heart felt like it was sinking in cold water.

Sometimes you’d sneak into the library at night, barefoot on the marble floor, just to feel close to the books your father kept locked away. Latin, History, Astronomy... Things meant for men. You’d whisper their content under your breath like spells.

You liked pretty things: dresses and the flowers in the garden. You liked pearls, and the soft brush of silk over your delicate, always perfumed skin. But you also liked the weight of a book in your lap, or the idea that you could learn the names of stars like men charted ships. Your sisters didn’t understand that you could be both. Even you didn’t always know how to explain it.

You never told anyone about the nights you couldn’t sleep. The hours you spent staring at the ceiling, heart racing for no reason. Or the mornings you woke up already tired, pressing your fingertips to your temples to stop the thoughts from spinning.

Sometimes, you thought you were broken. Sometimes, you wondered if anyone would notice if you weren’t there at all.

Your father wasn’t cruel, but he was made of stone and ambition.

“I expect you to behave with dignity,” he once told you, after you’d laughed too loudly at a garden party.

“Yes, Papa.”

He gave you everything you needed: dresses, tutors, a roof over your head… but never softness. Never warmth. Never a hand through your hair, or a quiet “I’m proud of you.”

You think he loved you, in his way. But it was a love measured in obedience and silence.

Still, you tried. You really did. You smiled in portraits, curtsied in gowns, practiced your piano and answered politely when suitors came to call.

But deep down, you always felt like a stranger in your own life. Like there was something else out there, calling you.

Something you missed without even knowing.

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NOW

Sunlight spilled softly through the high windows, casting warm stripes across the pale blue wallpaper. The scent of lavender drifted faintly from the linens, and a breeze fluttered the curtains. Everything was quiet. Peaceful.

A soft knock at the door, followed by the entrance of a maid, broke the silence.

"Good morning, Miss Sinclair," she said cheerfully, carrying a tray with your usual morning tea. "You're up early."

You blinked, trying to give her your best fake smile.

"I... I had a strange dream," you said, more to yourself than to her.

The maid poured your tea with a practiced hand. "Oh? One of those restless ones again?"

You nodded faintly. "Maybe. I cannot remember it now."

That was a lie. You did remember, though not fully. Only fragments remained, like scattered pieces of a puzzle or the faint sketch of a painting. No color, no detail, no clear form. But there was something: the suggestion of a face, and the aching sense that you had lost something important.

You didn't tell her (nor anyone) that most mornings began like this since you can remember—wrapped in a thick kind of stillness, as though the world woke up around you, but you stayed behind. You used to think it was just fatigue. Or melancholy. But lately, it felt heavier than that. Like your soul forgot how to move.

She smiled. "Well, dreams are like that. Gone the moment you try to hold them."

You took the cup from her and stared into the rising steam. "I thought I smelled smoke."

She paused and sniffed the air. "Strange... the fireplace hasn't been lit since yesterday afternoon. Maybe it's lingering in the fabric." She waved it off with a small laugh. "I'll air the room while you dress."

You nodded absently, watching her move about the space. Everything felt so normal. Familiar.

And yet, something tugged at the back of your mind. A shadow of something lost. Something warm. Something... important.

You couldn't remember what.

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Downstairs, the silverware clinked softly against porcelain as you stirred your tea, pretending to be more focused on your toast than the tightening in your chest.

"Remember," your father said, setting down the morning paper with a decisive thud, "you and Bea will be leaving tomorrow morning. Lottie expects you to assist with the final arrangements."

You nodded, though you hadn't forgotten. He had reminded you three times already.

Across the table, Bea, the youngest member of your family, beamed. "It's going to be perfect, Papa. Lottie's first ball as a duchess... Imagine the guest list!"

"I'm sure she'll make quite the impression," you said quietly, sipping your tea.

"She must," your father added, glancing at you now. "Our family's standing is secured through such opportunities. And your presence, both of you, must reflect that."

Bea continued talking about her own preparations for next year's debut into society. She was only seventeen, but already far more enthusiastic about society than you had ever been.

"I've heard Lady Wycliffe's daughter is already working with a dance instructor," Bea said, twirling a spoon in her untouched tea. "And I want the same modiste she used for her Paris gowns. The ones with the real Belgian lace."

"Paris is expensive," your father said, though he didn't sound entirely disapproving. "But the right marriage will justify the cost."

You forced a smile, eyes fixed on the steam curling from your cup.

Across from you, Bea's voice began to fade into the background. Names, silks, titles... it all blurred. You caught snatches of Lottie's schedule for fittings, of a new waltz being all the rage, of Lord Something's new estate in Bath. But it all felt so distant. Meaningless for you. As if the conversation were happening in another room.

You looked down at your hands. They didn't tremble. They were steady, composed. Like they belonged to someone else.

After a while, Bea tilted her head with practiced innocence. "Are you feeling well enough for it, sister? You've looked a bit... ghostly since waking."

You forced a smile. "Just a strange dream, nothing more."

"Dreams won't keep you from your responsibilities," your father said, dismissive. "Make yourself useful. Lottie will need all hands for the final preparations."

You looked down at your hands, the teacup trembling ever so slightly.

Useful. How many times had you heard that word?

It wasn't praise. It was a condition. Your worth, your presence, always weighed against how much easier you made someone else's life.

Bea giggled softly and buttered her roll. "Well, I do hope your mood improves by the weekend. There's no point in looking so tragic when you're about to be the next bride in the family."

Your stomach turned slightly, but you said nothing. The tea had gone cold in your hands.

You spent the rest of the morning locked in your room. Thankfully, your father had gone to his usual meetings with society men, and your sister had a tea appointment with her friends. So now that you were alone, no one could force you to go out and exchange false smiles and hollow laughter with every person you crossed paths with in the park.

You could finally sit in the quiet corner of your room and try to dig into your mind, to make sense of whatever was happening to you.

You reached for the chest beneath your bed. Inside, hidden under a pile of books and old gowns was your most important secret: the memories of every dream you had ever had for the past couple of months.

Two months to be exact... two months of strange dreams that felt too vivid to be just dreams at all. They felt more like memories... Waking each morning with the taste of road-dust and smoke on your tongue.

Men's voices echoed in your head. You never understood what they told you, and sometimes they sounded happy, other times angry, and sometimes even scared. One was gruff, tender when it was toward you. The other warm, intelligent. And then another, quieter. All American.

You couldn't recall their names, but the sound of them, those voices, their faded faces, lingered like a melody half-forgotten.

You wrote it down without thinking.

Just fragments: a hand reaching for mine. Smoke. A building that reminded you strangely of a roadside inn. Salt. His voice calling me back.

Your breath caught. Calling me back. Who? From where?

You sat motionless for what felt like hours, pen dangling from your fingers. The light shifted across the floor. You didn't move. Not because you were tired. But because, sometimes, it felt like if you stopped moving... you might disappear. And no one would notice. Not right away. Not ever. And the only thing that kept you grounded now was the memories you wrote in those papers.

You stared at the words, they didn't make sense, but they were inside of you. You set the pen down and closed your eyes, letting the hush of the room settle over you.

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By afternoon, you were seated in a polished black carriage beside your younger sister

chattering about floral patterns and ribbon choices with breathless enthusiasm. Across from you, your maid sat quietly, her eyes flicking between you and the window with practiced attentiveness.

The dressmaker's shop was busy, brimming with titled daughters and their mothers, dress forms draped in taffeta, and swatches of silk in every color imaginable. While Beatrice darted off to consult with the modiste about the lilac gown she insisted would "dazzle the room," you remained closer to the window, unable to shake the uneasy feeling crawling along your spine.

Then you felt it. A chill.

Not in the air, but beneath your skin. Like being watched. You turned your head subtly, scanning the street beyond the open door.

There, across the street, half-hidden beneath the awning of a bookshop, stood a woman. Pale skin, dark hair twisted elegantly. Eyes a striking, unnatural blue. Her gaze was fixed on you. Not the shop, not the crowd, you.

Your breath hitched. It felt like... No, impossible...

"Miss Sinclair?" your maid's voice cut in. She'd followed your gaze, her brow furrowing. "It's everything fine?"

You blinked. "I... no," you murmured, shaking your head. "Could you—please...?"

But you didn't even finish your sentence.

You stepped out of the dress shop, your gloves clutched tightly in one hand, the air hit you like a wave, brisk and bright, full of the murmurs and movement of the afternoon crowd.

You barely heard Beatrice's voice calling after you or your maid's worried footsteps behind. Because someone was watching you.

You scanned the street, heartbeat rising.

The breeze pulled at the hem of your coat. The sounds of the street faded. For a moment, there was only her, and the impossible pull in your chest. Like you knew her. Like you'd met before, somewhere far from here. Or into your own subconscious.

You stepped forward, weaving through the passersby. The crowd thickened. A group of boys darted across your path. A cart rolled by. Someone brushed your shoulder, murmuring an apology.

You pushed through, eyes fixed on the place where the woman stood...

Gone. She was gone.

You halted, disoriented, twisting to look down the street. Nothing.

And that's when you turned, colliding into someone solid. You gasped as strong hands caught your arms to steady you.

"Forgive me, I wasn't..." you began, but your voice faltered the instant you looked up.

The man before you smiled, soft and familiar in a way that made your stomach dip.

"No harm done," he said, warm and composed.

You stared, heart thudding. Tall. Dark hair. Soft hazel eyes with a faint trace of amusement. Mister Benedict. He knew you. And you knew him.

He smiled gently. "You're not injured, I hope?"

"No," you said, your voice faint. "Only startled."

There was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, though carefully tempered. "Miss Sinclair," he said, a subtle bow of his head. "It's everything fine?"

You opened your mouth, words caught behind your teeth. You nodded, unsure of your own voice.

He looked over his shoulder briefly, where three elegantly dressed women stood speaking with a modiste. One of them, the younger, looked over and offered a polite smile, clearly waiting for him. You knew them too: his mother and two of his little sisters.

"Are you sure you are well?" he worried. "You seem a bit pale."

I swear to God, if someone else told me that I look pale one more time...

"Yes," you said. Then, unsure why, you added, "Mostly."

His smile faltered just slightly, something unreadable behind his gaze. "I imagine tomorrow's preparations will be overwhelming. A duchess's ball is no small feat. Believe me, I've heard."

You stared at him, confusion swimming just beneath the surface. "You're attending?"

"Of course," he said lightly. "As your fiancé, it would be improper not to."

"Right," you said, managing a faint smile. "Silly me..."

His brow furrowed again, but instead of pressing, he offered gently, "What are you doing wandering out here, anyway?"

You blinked and looked over your shoulder as if remembering your surroundings. "My sister's inside. We're collecting the dresses for tomorrow."

He nodded with a knowing smile. "Then we're in the same predicament. I'm here with my mother and sisters, enduring fabric swatches and color debates."

You allowed a breath of a smile to form, despite yourself.

He extended his arm, ever the gentleman. "Come. I'll take you back to your sister, Miss Sinclair."

You hesitated, then placed your hand in the crook of his elbow.

And as he guided you back toward the dressmaker's door, someone behind you called out casually, "There you are, Benedict! Mother is asking for you."

You turned to see the girl walking toward you.

"I'm sorry, Hyacinth," he replied softly.

His sister barely glanced at you before looping her arm through Benedict's. "Come now, before she sends Colin to drag you back."

Benedict gave you an apologetic smile, then turned slightly toward the group gathered around his family's carriage. "Mother, Eloise," he greeted politely, then looked back at you. "Miss Sinclair and I happened upon one another."

Lady Bridgerton gave you a warm but measured smile. "Miss Sinclair. So delightful to see you! We look forward to seeing you at the duchess's ball."

"As do I," you replied with a courteous dip of your head. You met each of their eyes as they offered polite nods and warm smiles. To your fortune, at least you were about to marry into one of the few truly happy and sincere families in all of Mayfair.

You exchanged a few words and light comments about the dresses before Lady Bridgerton turned to leave, guiding her daughters with practiced ease. As they began to walk away, Benedict let out a quiet breath through his nose and gave you a sheepish look.

"You have a lively family," you remarked, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He chuckled. "That's one way to put it."

With that, he gave you a small bow. "Until Saturday, Miss Sinclair."

"Until Saturday, Mr. Bridgerton."

You watched him follow after his family, and only then did you turn back to the shop, your sister waving you in from the doorway.

"There you are!" she huffed. "Honestly, if you wander off like that this weekend, I'll never hear the end of it."

Your maid glanced at you curiously but said nothing.

You said nothing either. Your gaze lingered once more toward the crowd, where just moments ago that strange woman had stood. She was gone now. As if she'd never been there.

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The sun was low by the time you and Bea arrived at the grand estate. The sprawling house stood as proud and elegant as ever, its white facade glowing in the golden light. Lottie, your older sister, was already directing footmen and servants with the confidence of a duchess well accustomed to being obeyed.

"Finally," she sighed as the two of you stepped down from the carriage. "I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost in the modiste's ribbons."

Bea giggled and looped her arm through yours. "You know how she gets when the silk is the wrong shade of blue." There was a sarcastic tone lingering in her voice.

You smiled faintly, still distracted. Something about the air felt... heavy.

Inside, the drawing rooms were buzzing with motion. Dresses being pressed, silver polished, seating charts redrafted by candlelight. Lottie walked briskly between rooms, issuing commands, and you tried to ignore the way your skin prickled the deeper into the house you went.

Finally, Lottie stood at the center of the grand salon like a general surveying a battlefield, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Sunlight glinted off the sapphire brooch pinned to her high collar, and her expression was as crisp as the pleats on the drapes.

"Beatrice, you'll be stationed by the entrance to greet the guests as they arrive. Smile, curtsy, and please don't speak too much unless someone speaks first. We don't need another incident like the garden luncheon."

Bea raised an eyebrow. "He asked if I liked poetry, I didn't know he wrote it."

Lottie gave her a thin smile and turned. "And you..." she fixed her gaze on you, lips tightening slightly. "You will remain by my side until the dancing begins. If I'm called away, I expect you to step in and keep the conversation flowing. No sulking in corners, no disappearing for air, and please refrain from quoting anything peculiar. I want no talk of Greek myths or battle strategies at my ball. You will be dismissed of your charge once Mister Bridgeton arrives. Then, he will be your priority."

You blinked. "Do I really talk about battle strategies that often?"

Bea nodded behind Lottie's back. "You do. It's actually impressive."

Lottie exhaled sharply. "This is not the time for antics. This is the first ball I host as Duchess of Lawrence. It also happens to be the announcement of your marriage to The Queen. Consequently, everything has to be perfect. Understood?"

You both nodded.

Lottie opened her mouth to say something more, when she was interrupted by a scream.

It echoed from the upper floor, piercing, desperate, raw. All three of you froze.

"Oh! What now?" Lottie complained.

Without a thought, your legs moved first.

"Upstairs!" you shouted, lifting your skirts as you bolted up the grand staircase, your heart hammering so violently it might have cracked your ribs.

Your older sister shouted your name, but you didn't even hesitate. You reached the corridor just as a maid burst from the nursery, sobbing and bleeding from a long scratch across her neck.

"She was there!" she cried. "The duchess... her grace... the old one... she's come back!" The panic in her eyes was alarming. She was pale, at the edge of unconsciousness.

Lottie appeared behind you, exasperated. "What on earth are you talking about? That's not possible. The Duke's mother died two years ago."

You turned to the maid, gripping her shoulders. "What did you see? Tell me exactly."

The maid gasped, trembling. "A woman. Dressed in a black mourning gown. But she was floating... her eyes... white as snow. And her voice... it was like ice."

You were already scanning the walls, the windows. You weren't even sure what you were looking for, but you were certain that you'll knew it when you found it.

A part of you knew this wasn't shock. It was instinct. Familiar. Like slipping into a role you hadn't played in years, but your body still remembered every move.

"She's a ghost," you said quietly, but confident.

Bea blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Ghosts?" Lottie let out a humorless laugh. "Don't be absurd, sister. This is Hampshire, not a penny dreadful."

"There's something wrong here. Something dangerous." Your voice came out steadier than you expected. "Where was she when you saw her?" you asked the maid.

"In the nursery," she whispered.

Bea frowned. "What are you on about?"

You ignored her. "Did she touch anything? Did anything fall?"

The maid looked confused but nodded. "The mirror cracked."

You didn't hesitate. You turned toward your sisters, her faces looking at you as a third eye had magically appeared on your forehead. "We need salt. Oil. Matches. Iron."

"Have you lost your mind?" Lottie asked, shocked. "Salt and oil? You want to cook a 'ghost'?"

But you were already pulling open drawers, searching. Your hands found a fireplace poker.

Iron. Perfect.

From the back of your mind came the memory of a voice—gruff, American—Always go for the bones, sweetheart. Burn the bones, and they don't come back.

You didn't know how you knew that, only that it was true.

"She's tied to something in this house," you said. "Maybe her remains. Maybe something she loved. We need to find it."

"You've always had... a wild imagination," Lottie muttered, "but this is truly too much."

You stared at her.

"Sister, I adore you, but do you ever wonder if you were dropped on the head as a child?" Bea followed her, looking at you as you were some kind of phenomenon.

Lottie rubbed her temple. "You know what, dear sister?" For some reason, a sudden shiver ran down your spine. "...when you're quite finished with whatever ghost-hunting has seized you, and choose to be of use, I shall be downstairs—preparing the ball. My ball."

She just turned around and disappeared down the hallway.

You turned to the maid, and said, "Come back to your chores. And please, say no word. I'll handle this."

She nodded and disappeared down the service stairs.

However, Bea remained standing beside you, like she was waiting for your next move. You looked to her, but she merely shrugged. "Oh, I rather want to know what all this is about."

"Fine. But you do whatever I say. We clear?" You stated.

"Yes, ma'am." She agreed.

The two of you made your way down the corridor, past the nursery. Coldness seeped through the air like a veil. Your breath fogged. The walls moaned. Then...

Lottie screamed. And she reappeared running toward you, her face pale.

A figure lunged from the dark—tall, swathed in shadowy lace, with eyes like white fire. She grabbed Lottie by the throat and lifted her off the ground.

"No!" you shouted. "Let her go, you bloody son of a—" You ran, swinging the fireplace poker with everything you had. It passed through the figure once... but on the second strike, the spirit screamed and flared backward.

Lottie fell into your arms, coughing. "You—how did you—?"

Her eyes were wide and red with fear. Bea was already crying.

"Help me find her grave," you said breathlessly. "Now."

Lottie coughed in your arms, her usually poised face now contorted in panic. "There's a family crypt," she rasped. "On the grounds, beyond the orchard."

You turned to Beatrice, whose eyes were wide but steady. "Get the salt. Candles. Whatever oil you can find. And bring the poker."

"You're not seriously going out there now," Lottie said, her voice trembling.

"Yes," you said. "Before she comes back... and before anyone else gets hurt."

"But my ball..." she mumbled like a little girl.

You rolled your eyes and gripped her by the shoulders.

"There won't be any ball if we all are dead, you hear me? I must hunt down this thing."

She hesitated, then nodded. "You'll need the keys."

Minutes later, cloaked in shawls and coats, the three of you crossed the damp, shadowed garden. The air was colder than it should have been for spring.

Lottie unlocked the iron gate with trembling fingers. The door groaned open, revealing the narrow stone steps leading underground. Candles flickered wildly in the wind as you descended, your hand tight around the poker.

Inside, the air was still. Too still.

You led the way into the crypt. Rows of stone coffins lined the walls, each carved with the names of the Duke's ancestors. The far end was darker, untouched by light.

Then you saw it: Isabella Abbot, the Duchess of Lawrence's tomb. Fresh cracks split the stone at the base. The metal nameplate had fallen, as if pushed from the inside.

"She's angry," you whispered. "Something kept her soul here."

"Why?" Bea asked, holding the oil lamp high. "She wasn't... evil, was she?"

Lottie shook her head. "She was harsh. Controlling. But no. Just proud."

You stepped forward. "There's something in here that's binding her. We need to open the coffin."

"Have you lost your mind, sister!?" Bea cried.

"Absolutely not!" Lottie hissed. "You can't just—"

But the air shifted. The temperature dropped in an instant, and your breath misted.

Then came the shriek.

The ghost appeared behind you, hurtling toward Lottie again, her mouth open in an inhuman howl.

"DEAR LORD," your sister cried out.

You didn't think. You swung the iron poker again and shouted, "Bea, the salt!"

Beatrice scattered it in a wide arc, just as the ghost lunged. The spirit hit the invisible line and screamed, repelled, flickering violently before disappearing again.

"Now!" you barked. "Open it!"

Lottie and Bea helped you push the stone lid. It groaned open. Inside lay the decaying body of Duchess Isabella, wrapped in elegant silks and jewels.

"Oh my goodness!" Bea stepped back.

Lottie disappeared in a corner to empty the content of her stomach.

Your eyes scanned the corpse, and then you saw it. At her neck, glinting like a flame, was a locket.

You reached in and pulled it free. Inside, a lock of hair and a faded portrait of a young man: her first son, who had died at sea decades ago.

"She never let him go," you whispered. "She tied herself to him."

And then, behind you, she returned... screaming, enraged, her ghostly hand reaching for your throat.

You struck a match. Poured the oil.

"Go back," you whispered, not even knowing why the words felt right. "You're free now."

And you dropped the flame.

The locket caught instantly. The fire blazed white-hot. The spirit shrieked, the sound deafening, until it faded into silence, carried on smoke that disappeared like mist in the candlelight.

You stood, shaking, soot on your hands. The crypt was still.

Your sisters stared at you.

Lottie finally found her voice. "What... in God's name just happened? How did you know all that?"

"My books," you whispered, shrugging. But it was a lie. You felt like you had done it before. Which, of course, was completely absurd.

Bea blinked, looking at you unconvinced. "That's not reassuring."

You laughed softly, tired, but certain now that whatever haunted your dreams... it was real.

What was even more remarkable was that, for the first time in what felt like your entire life, you felt good. The rush of adrenaline coursed through your veins like warm blood—not like the cold that had been keeping you company for so long.

That night, you barely slept. Not because you feared the shadows in your room, or the ghost of the duchess reaching for you from the dark.

No... it was the emptiness that came after. The cruel crash after the highest fly. The silence inside your chest once the adrenaline was gone, once the fear had passed and nothing was left but the hollow ache you couldn't explain.

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The gown clung at your body like a secret—deep crimson, richer than wine, scandalously vivid against the pale silks your sisters chose. The empire waist hugs just beneath your ribs, gold embroidery catching the lamplight as you move. The sleeves were short, brushing your shoulders like a hesitant touch, and the silk fell around you in quiet waves, flowing like blood over marble.

At your throat, a thin ribbon of red lace, rested against your skin. It felt too intimate, too knowing, as if it remembered something you've forgotten. You did not know where it came from.

You looked like a woman in mourning. Or a ghost who's decided to live anyway.

You barely hear the knock before the door opens.

"Is she ready yet?" your youngest sister's voice cuts through the silence. "We're going to be late, and Charlotte is already downstairs."

She stopped when she saw you. For a moment, even she is silent.

Your father appeared behind her, his gaze sweeping over you with a cold sort of satisfaction. "At last," he said. "You almost look like a Sinclair tonight."

You didn't answer. You weren't sure which part of you he's referring to—the gown, the posture, or the carefully hidden ache behind your eyes.

Your other sister, already laced into pale blue satin, leaned closer with a whisper meant only for you. "Try not to outshine the hostess. She's the duchess, after all. And you're... well, you're just the guest of honor."

You murmured something polite, something forgettable, and follow them down the corridor.

Each step felt like stepping deeper into a life that doesn't quite fit.

The light of a thousand candles danced across the golden walls of your sister's ballroom, refracting through the crystal chandeliers in glittering shards. Violins wept soft notes as lords and ladies murmured behind painted fans and lifted crystal flutes to their lips. You stood at the top of the marble staircase beside Benedict, your hand resting on his arm, your body corseted into perfection, and your face sculpted into the smile your father had taught you.

You had become a portrait, not a person.

"Your Majesty," Charlotte announced with regal grace, "may I present Miss Sinclair, my beloved sister... and her betrothed, Mr. Benedict Bridgerton."

You felt every eye in the room shift toward you. The Queen's gaze, heavy and jeweled, fell upon you with the weight of expectation. She offered a thin smile.

Applause broke out, polite, pleasant, poisoned. You could feel the eyes of every unmarried woman, and their mothers, piercing your back. Murmurs of envy and jealousy rose from every corner. After all, you were marrying a Bridgerton.

It was unbearable. You couldn't breathe.

The walls seemed too close. The scent of perfume cloyed in your nose—jasmine and lavender, gardenia and rose, all pressing in like hands on your throat. Your heartbeat fluttered madly, your chest rising and falling beneath the cruel pressure of your corset. Still, you smiled. You always smiled.

Benedict leaned toward you, whispering, "It will be over before you know it."

But that was the problem. It wouldn't be over. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not ever.

You were about to become Mrs. Bridgerton.

The orchestra began the waltz, and the crowd parted like silk. As the betrothed couple, you were expected to open the floor.

Your steps were automatic as Benedict guided you to the center. His hand slipped to your back, the other clasped your fingers gently. He was ever the gentleman. You hated him for it.

The music swelled.

One-two-three. One-two-three.

You moved together as if the world wasn't collapsing beneath your satin slippers. The room spun. The chandeliers bled into stars above. The heat rose behind your eyes. You couldn't focus. You couldn't breathe.

Then—softly, like a thread pulled taut—Benedict spoke.

"Are you fine, my dear?"

You faltered. Missed a step.

The world stilled, as though everything hinged on that single word.

"What... what did you just call me?"

He blinked at you, unsure. "Dear?"

You stopped. He meant it kindly. Tenderly, even. But the syllable echoed in your head like a bullet.

Deer.

You gasped, chest seizing. Memory cracked through the fog of your mind.

Rain. Blood. Gunpowder.

A hand clutching yours.

A voice calling you back—"Stay with me."

Green eyes. Rough hands. A flannel shirt soaked in red. A smile that made your knees went weak.

And a name. A single name that could send you to madness just to think about it.

Dean.

"No," you whispered, stepping back. "No, no, no, no—"

Benedict called your name, reaching for you. "What's wrong?"

But you couldn't answer. You couldn't stay there. You turned and fled.

Gasps rose from the crowd as you bolted from the ballroom, skirts gathered in your fists. Voices called after you—Charlotte, Beatrice, your father, Benedict—but you didn't look back. Couldn't.

Your slippers pounded against the marble floor as you darted down the corridor, out the French doors, into the cold night air. The garden awaited, tall hedges stretching like arms, the entrance to the labyrinth yawning before you.

You slipped inside.

Branches clawed at your sleeves as you ran blindly through the twists and turns. The music behind you faded into ghostly echoes. Your breath came in ragged sobs, your corset cutting deeper with every gasp. You didn't care.

Now it was impossible for you to breathe.

The maze spun around you like a tornado. Your thoughts screamed over each other—memories that weren't memories, names you didn't know but somehow loved, and a voice. His voice. Dean.

Your knees buckled.

Before you could fall, strong arms caught you—cool and sure, like marble warmed by candlelight.

"Breathe," she said, soft but firm.

You didn't understand how she'd crossed the distance, but suddenly she was there, kneeling with you in the damp grass. Her hand pressed lightly between your shoulder blades, the other at your wrist, counting the frantic pulse there.

"I need you to listen to me," she said gentle, but with the authority of someone who had spoken to storms and been heard. "You are safe. Right now, in this moment."

You gasped again. The world narrowed. Your corset felt like a noose.

Her forehead touched yours, barely.

"Breathe in," she whispered, matching your rhythm. "Like this. Good. Now again."

You followed her voice. You followed her breath.

Slowly, the edges of the world softened. Your heart, though wild, no longer beat like it meant to escape your chest. You clutched her sleeve as if it were the only solid thing in a world unraveling.

"I think I'm going mad," you whispered.

She looked at you, not with pity, but something far older. Sadness, and infinite patience.

"You are remembering," she said, like suddenly she was realizing something was wrong. "You shouldn't remember."

And then—through the blur of tears—you saw her.

The woman was not dressed for a ball. No lace, no powder, no sparkle. Hair, dark as ink, parted cleanly and pinned back without ornament. Her gown was simple, high-necked and dark, the fabric plain but immaculately clean. A practical pelisse clung to her shoulders, buttoned to the throat, the muted color blending into the night. She looked like a governess, almost, or perhaps as someone meant to go unnoticed. And yet you couldn't look away.

But it was the eyes that undid you. Not their shape or their color, though they were a striking blue, oddly bright in the dark.

It was the weight in them. The stillness. The knowing.

She looked at you like someone who'd waited centuries. Who had seen too much, and carried it all in silence.

You had seen her before. Outside the modiste's.

"Wait..." you murmured. "I know you... From my dreams. But... no, that's impossible, because you're a woman and he—"

You stopped short, your words catching on the thorns in your throat.

A name trembled on the edge of your tongue.

"...Castiel?"

The woman looked at you with eyes too ancient for her face. She nodded slowly, giving up.

"Hello, Claire."

NEXT PART

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pokeberry5 · 8 months ago

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Hello, it's me again, still on my Tim dive. I wanted to know if there's any other comics you'd recommend! I've got Young Justice on the list but aside from that, nothing much. Doesn't have to be Tim specific though I have grown so fond of him. Thanks in advance!

hello again!

prefacing this with the fact that my recommendations are going to skew towards tim's earlier experiences and mostly bat-titles just because that's what i've managed to get through

i think you said last time that you'd already read robin 1991 which i love as a short and sweet introduction to tim's character

batman: contagion and batman: legacy -- LEGACY MY BELOVED I LOVE SO MUCH. contagion is the disaster pandemic storyline (which. yeah.) with legacy as the fallout/continuation, but i love it because it has so many almost whump fic moments. also catwoman-robin teamup and nightwing-robin-huntress teamup <333

batman: gotham knights: transference (which is batman: gotham knights #1-12) is a series of poignant character studies on the main characters associated with batman at the time (e.g. nightwing, robin, oracle, batgirl) and batman's thoughts on his relationships with them. i also really like the framing of the arc. you'll see. typical bruce repression fuckery.

huntress 1989 is a standalone mini-series introducing helena bertinelli. it's darker than what i usually enjoy, but i found it to be a tightly written story on trauma and self-actualization. what really made it stick with me is the (imo) suprisingly sensitive narrative and visual treatment of helena's childhood assault.

i haven't read it myself, but batgirl 2000 has been on my reading list for a long time. it's cassandra cain's title.

as some more random recs:

i recently read brotherhood of the fist which is a 5 part crossover centering around connor hawke with some banging dick & tim moments (green arrow 1988 #134, detective comics 1937 #723, robin 1993 #55, nightwing #23).

i'm very fond of the ridiculousness that is batman: failsafe (batman 2016 #125-130). i love jorge jiménez's art, i love sexy killer robot batman, and i do think it's an earnest exploration of how bruce conceptualizes and dichotomizes the role of his robins in his life. i also LOVE the noir/watercolor visuals of the accompanying I AM GUN mini.

i'm gonna toss in detective comics 2016 #1034-1046 which i read with absolutely no context for the sake of dan mora wet cat batman 👍 you too can be eminently confused :] but the art and writing is pretty solid!! i think it's like the bridge between infinite frontier and fear state.

#i love tim dearly but the genre conventions of american comics post 80s tend to skew darker than what i prefer #especially post nml from what i've heard #so it's been slow going #i dont have the buoy that is the hype and hope of shounen ;-;#comic recs #red talks #asks #i hope this is helpful!#dc

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popculturebuffet · 4 months ago

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Transformers: Windblade International Women's Day Special

Hello all you happy autobots and welcome to my international women's day special!

So last year as part of my ongoing retrospective of Transformers More than Meets the Eye, aka one of my faviorite comics ever, for patreon Brotoman.EXE, I took a look at it's sister series Robots in Disguise. And i'm fine.. just...

For those less familiar on paper RID was supposed to be a gritty political intrigue type series. Game of thrones with robots to More than Meets the Eye's combination of Star Trek and JLI also with robots. In practice... it's a bunch of assholes constantly squabbling while Starscream is the best. RID had a great premise, exploring a rebuilding cybertron fractured by centuries of war and the civilians who weren't exactly stoked about said war, but wasted it.

Thankfully after the dark cybertron crossover things got transformed: RID was now about Optimus and a group of autobots heading to earth for shenanigans, crossovers and a few title changes, leaving a gap open for a new cybertron set book. Enter Windblade.

Windblade was part of hasbro's "fan built bot" inittiave.. something I just found out exists. It allowed fans to help design a new character.. the team still clearly had ideas in mind, but select parts were voted on by us. It's a nice way to engage fans.

So her traits were slowly selected: An autobot with a jet alt mode, a sword, a red and black color scheme and a valiant personality. I would've prefered wild man (or wild woman in this case), but hey. A second round determined her name and gender. The last two selections would be reworked: Her home city was chosen.. but as a female transformer she was reworked to be from another planet as the bots on cybertron were all male at birth, while her generalized telepathy became a cityspeaker. Both are changes I have no issue with: the former fits into the unvierse better and the latter is just a cooler more speciality skill with a lot more intresting lore and character stuff attached. I find this whole concept fun and simple: a way to add a new character into the books but give writers and artists wiggle room. Her design was contriversal from what I can tell with a lot of fans fearing her kabuki look was another drift. Me I think it works, especially with the given context: Windblade's story is an immigrant story: she's new to cybertron, Starscream resents her alien status, so it fits she has a deisgn that's diffrent from most g1 designs, more elligant and ornate. It shows off her status as a Cityspeaker is a MASSIVE deal on their homeworld and crucial to cybertron's survival, but also her fish out of water status: she was absent for the war and now has to dive into a world that she HOPED would be helpful.. but instead is a cesspit of decption, intrigue and is barely holding on. I admitely don't know much about kabuki, but unlike drift it at least feels like the artists did their research instead of going off a 12 year old's scribblings about samurai.

Finally we unfortunatley have to talk about a transfomers Legend. Simon Furman is impossible to untangle from transformers legacy , creating Primus itself, finishign the marvel run of the book, continuing his run and ending it on his terms at idw, and launching this very continuity.

He also decided to make a massive ass of himself over this very book. See Simon has it in his head the Transformers are a genderless race. That they have no concept of it and thus are beyond it. As such he's ALWAYS hated the idea of female transformers. Can't stand them. When forced to use arcee in the uk comics he made it a stink of humans asking for a female transfomer then being offended at her design, while the autobots were confused why humanity cared about gender.

So when adding Arcee to IDW he made one of the most infamous stories in all of transformers... on the level of otptimus prime making out with a human to unlock his power, devistator's literal truk nuts or.. these guys

So in IDW continuity Arcee was forcibly switched from Male to Female and torturned into insanity by the evil scientest Jhiaxus. Just reading that sentence you the astute reader can proably see the mountain of issues: Equating being a woman with torture, being trans with a mad scientst experiment, either of the above with mental illness and ptsd. It's.. ti's bad. I've read the issue and while it has been a while it wasn't great. This wasn't the INTENTION, Furman jsut wanted to explore what would happen if a genderless race was forced into a gender.

The problem Furman ignores and later would gripe about in the comments section, is that the transformers.. are male coded. They use male pronouns and cybetron made their bots traditionally masculine. It was concived as a toyline for boys in the 80's. Of course the bulk of characters are male coded. As many a commentor tried in vain to point out to furman, they are not non binary (Andrgnys was the term used), they have a concept of gender. It's why James Roberts was able to make a cast load of gay later: If the race is all male, then of course most of the relationships would be male and thus allowed him to throw in gay characters after he realized Chromedome and Rewind were less "good buddies" and more "husbands". Hence the invention of Condjux Endura and Prowl being Chromedome's bitter ex. As Roberts shows you CAN play with this gloriously, but he accepted transformers are male coded. It's why Rebecca Sugar made the Gem race in steven universe female: in addition to making a female mostly warrior race, something rare in fiction beyond sterotypes, it allowed her to easily make most of the main cast gay or pan without the censors getting pissy at first. They did eventually but the alien thing helped slide it on by.

You CAN have aliens who are genderfluid or genderless.. but the transformers just aren't. He could've made them that way, tried having the desgins tweaked, but because he can't disgnuish between a mono gender and non binary, the transformers wound up being male and the easy fix to make more cisgender female transformers was just have other cybertronian colonies. Most of transformerdom is at most mildly puzzled at the concept of a new gender and moves on. Simple.

Now as for why all this matters to windblade for those unaware Scott had a tumblr at the time , as this platform was popular at the time, and answered questions as I do. Instead of talking about various animated series from various networks, she answered questions about the upcoming book before everyone properly debuted in dark cybertron, since these things get announced months in advance. She then was asked the question: What did she think about ARcee's idw origin. Her exact response

What are your thoughts on the IDW Arcee origin that Furman made?

Okay, this question has come up a lot and it’s time to finally answer.

In a vacuum, Furman’s story is completely legitimate. The idea that someone is fundamentally changed against their will and struggles/rages against that is a really interesting idea. In fact, I wrote a very similar thing with the Dinobots. It taps into a deep human fear that God exists and is apathetic to/causes our pain.

Also dealing with characters that are literally alien naturally leads writers to play with/explore what aspects of humanity do and do not translate: are they alive? does Primus really equate to God if they have concrete knowledge of his existance? what does it mean to be male/female in a non-reproductive species?

The issues I have with Furman’s choice is that we don’t exist in a vacuum and the suggestion that 1. women only exist in aberration 2. being a women is inherently traumatic 3. being a women has any correlation to mental illness are extremely upsetting. Do I think Furman was trying to make a statement about human women with Arcee’s origins? No. In fact, the largest share of blame lies with the tokenization of women in the brand in general. If Arcee was one of many women transformers and she became female in this manner, it would not be an issue for women writ large (although still troubling for the transgender community). It is because she is the ONLY women (and that this story ensures that she will ALWAYS BE the only woman) that Arcee’s story becomes untenable.

Hopefully John, James and I have come up with a way around this Gordian Knot that will satisfy the fan-base, but satisfying-or-no, the most immediate imperative is to ENSURE this story does not continue to keep women readers, fans and characters at arm’s length from the brand. I’ve often said that everyone should feel that they are allowed to like Transformers and it is my complete and utter privilege to take this next step to make that happen.

TLDR version: Arcee’s origin is offensive because we don’t have any other female origins to balance it. We’re working on it, stay tuned.

PS To fans that still claim Transformers are asexual: Academically, you have legitimate standing, but practically, ask yourself this: Jazz has been voice by actors from three different races over the years. If, in the next video game, Jazz was voiced by a woman, would you feel the character had been changed at all? If so, you do not perceive Transformers to be asexual. If not, you are a rare, rare bird indeed.

I quoted it in full to illustrate a few things: Scott is nothing but respectful and even in 2014 was keenly aware of the needs of the trans community. She even started using cisgender when informed it was the proper term for Windblade. It's a very small bar but given the society we live in, it's nice a writer clears it at all. She also does not directly attack furman. She gets why he made the mistake, points it out and makes the valid point that the issue is largely that transformers barely cares about it's female fans and is working to fix that. It is a rational, well thought out response and something necessary to adress given what a clusterfuck spotlight arcee is. She responded to all of this like a rational adult. Furman's response to her

Yeah Simon Furman's response to this is one of the most painful, defensive and mind boggling essays I have ever read. Furman INSISITS the transformers are genderless, cannot grasp that his work does not exist in a vaccum, and that he is not right and any mentions of the cartoon by scott or the comics irk him. He also somehow bafflingly thinks the relationships in MTMTE are metaphors

"James’ run is being rightly lauded and it had been done by using metaphors not direct correlations. Cyclonus and Tailgate’s early relationship can be viewed as a metaphor for a domestic violence situation but it is not literally that. "

... it.. it is literally that. They have romantic feelings and Cyclonus beats Tailgate at one point. It's domestic abuse. They grow past it but the way Cyclonus can treat tailgate is abusive. They.. .they can have relationships Simon. Being genderless or non binary does not = asexual or aromantic.

Mr Furman just.. genuinely DOES not get that and refuses to get that. The contrast is night and day: Scott was polite, wasn't trying to be conforntational to a colleuge, asked other communities for their imput and made a persuasive argument. Furman just cherry picks the sections of her answer that bothered him and hammers the same dumb argument again and again and onto the comments which yes I did read the bulk of.

Shockingly for early 2010's internet comments: their civil. Theirs some assholery and Furman apparently removed full on bigots. But it's a LONG stream of people telling furman he's wrong while he plugs his ears and goes THEY DON'T HAVE GENDER, OTHER MEDIA DOSEN'T MATER TO THIS VERSION EVEN THOUGH IT REFLECTS HOW PEOPLE SEE THESE CHARACTERS, I'M RIGHT JUST LET ME BE RIGHT, AT LEAST ONE WOMAN AGREED WITH ME

It's a case of a creator getting so caught up in his ego he can't see other perspectives and refuses to alter his. Furman was never my hero, but I know he was a hero to many a transformers fan and it's sad he had to tank his own reputation being a defensive asshole. It's not the worst public blowup of one's rep i've seen. He isn't parading around half assed oversexualized art of women like it's some great victory like frank cho or writing heroic comics about Q of Quanon like chuck dixon. He just kinda sucks and refused to admit he was wrong and we sadly had to spend a LOT of this review talking about that.

Thankfully sad old man time is older and we can talk about how good this book is. While Windblade apparently got an eh from most I find it to be one of the best idw transformers books out of the pile i've read. While that isnt' the highest bar the fact it even nears the quality of MTMTE is praise alone. It's an excellent book about a genuinely kind and decent person with pure motives enterting a world where such a thing has been lost in a sea of war and deception. It's a wonderful four issue series that to two sequels: a decent one and an utterly fantastic one and it's under the cut.

We begin with a narration telling us it's the dawn of the new era. It's something I skipped over with MTMTE sumarizing the three pillars of this new ear: Optimus for RID, Megatron for MTMTE and Windblade for take a wild guess.

So quick catchup for those who didn't read the previous reviews or arent' as familiar with IDW Comics: The War is Over. The Autobots won.. but got nothing out of it: Cybertron is free.. but the final fight left it in a dangerous state that left Iacon the last safe harbor and all the various neutrals blaming the autobots for something that genuinely wasn't their fault. The autobots then split: Bumblebee wanted to stay and work things out, Rodimus wanted to go on a grand quest to prove his deep seated self loathing and inferority complex wrong. Optimus opted out enteriely to help with the healing.

This left cybertron in the hands of bumblebee.. who fumbled his time as leader, spending most of it getting bitched out by what were essentailly his seconds in command: Prowl, who had turned into an authortarian shithead over the years and is only going to get worse having already manipualted the lost light's command into taking a serial killer on board as prisoner, something that went about as well as you'd expect, and was such a bad person no one noticed he got mind controlled or fully bought he was. The other was Metalhawk, a self righteous asshole who constantly blamed the Autobots for fighting a war that gave him the freedom to be a self righteous asshole.

This left Cybertron with leadership no one on it wanted who bickered constantly instead of doing things. So instead.. they got Starscream. Starscream did Trumps bit before trumps: he manipulated assholes with actual problems into aiming their anger at whatever he wanted. The only differnce is Starscream has actual style. He easily slid into leadership and after Megatrons return used that to exile most of the autbots to the wilderness to die. Not in those words, unlike trump he has subtly: it was give up being an autobot or leave. Add in a giant robot picking him as robot jesus and it was pretty easy.

Starscream's reign wasn't all sunshine lollypops and rainbow cherry drops as Dark Cybertron nearly dethroned him: the reveal the prophecy of him as a god king also meant cybertron's destruction didn't go well. But since huge horrifying disasters haven't stopped politicans before, and the apocalypse was canceled, Starscream was able to skate by. He still had the NAILS and with the Autbots having saved the world, made an uneasy peace with them. None of them LIKED him but they couldnt' just dethrone him and expect cybertron to not devolve into another war.

So the autobots reluctantly left Starscream in charge and went off to do their own thing.. with a few left behind to try and live their lives and hope he dosen't blow up the planet which sounds.. totally.. t..totally unfamilar

As for our heroine, Windblade was introduced during the crossover. She was sent by everyone's faviorite ace rimmer cosplayer Thunderclash along with her best friends Chromia and Nautica. These three come from Caminus. Long ago when it was an empire Cybertron spread out, sending out titans, transformers the size of cities. The concept of city sized transformers isn't new, Metroplex has existed for some time, but I like what these comics do with it, making them unfathomable giant beings. They think and feel like any bots.. but their thoughts are so massive, dense and complicated their hard to speak to.

Hence the cityspeakers, specialized transformers who can telepathically communicate with titans. It's why Windblade has her kabuki makeup: to pay homage to caminus and why Thunderclash called on her. Windblade managed to save metroplex during the crossover with the help of the lost light and her own skills, turning the tide against Shockwaves own titan.. but leaving him a badly damaged wreck. Nautica went with the lost light while Windblade stayed behind to be the voice of a city. Chromia stayed behind for windblade.

The series slowly fleshes out Windblade and Scott does so wonderfully: Windblade is an optimist, badly wanting the best for people and having come expecting cybertron to be this kind, wonderful new empire finally free from war that could help her own people. As we find out in an excellent swerve at the end of the first issue.. Caminus is not doing well. As we find out later their resources are so stretched they'll only last a hundred years if lucky.

As you can tell... that didn't happen. Windblade's story is of an idealist, a genuinely good person who has pure goals: heal metroplex, heal cybetron and hopefully in turn get Caminus better. In most other transformers works she'd be the protaganist, working with optimus and co to save the world no matter the cost even if things got murky.

But that's not the world she gets. She gets a cybetron badly damaged by the war and everything after, barely holding on, a titan that's barely functioning despite his best efforts, and a leader who openly threatens and accuses her twice not because she did anything wrong but because he can't share the spotlight. Starscream blames her for power outages and a series of bombings.

She's the perfect foil for starscream: both are jets, both are red, but both could not be more diffrent. Windblade only wants to help. She's kind compassionate and empathetic. She wants a better world for cybertron and caminus and will do what it takes. When hunting down waspinator for a lead later, her friend Chromia just.. chases after the poor guy after he bolts, who it turn sout only bolted because EVERYONE beats him up. Her response? Be genuinely contrite, kind yet firm. She gets exactly the info she needs and an ally, if one who will flee at the first time of danger.

Starscream.. well after some interviews Windblade herself puts it best

Starscream is at his most evil so far here. Previously I rooted for him in RiD. He was a scumbag sure.. but he was the only COMPITENT scumbag. Prowl was a facist both with and without brainwashing, Bumblebee focused more on internal politics than helping anyone, and Metalhawk was a self righteous ass. There were other characters who were likeable, Blurr, Ironhide, Wheeljack, but none of them had any power to do anything about the world around them. It's hard not to vote for the bad guy when he's the only one actually trying. Sure he wasn't really solving cybetron's issues either, but at least he was playing the game.

Here since he's largely not gesturing for the public or metalhawk... he's a cold monster. There was a CHANCE he could've changed.. but killing metalhawk, public service or not, was the tippping point: killing the only person who for some unknown reason belivied him in was it. Winblade GENUINELY hoped he wasn't as bad as his rep or his actions.. starscream could've played her... but he dosen't want to. Starscream spent so long clawing to the top, trying to overthrow megatron, trying to worm his way to the kingship, getting declared the chosen one, he finally has everything... and he can't let himself enjoy it. Because suddenly there's a charasmatic bot who he can't just kill or banish, one who makes friends easy, and has nothing but pure motives. She's another optimus.. and he can't let that exist.

He's not so hard on windblade because he couldn't play her but because he knows the longer she's around, the more power she gets. If he can pick her off NOW while she's just a naive visitor, then he wins. And that's what fucks him over: before he played the long game, slowly earning public sympathy, getting the public's support, doing what a politican, even a complete monster whose hollowed out inside, does. He played the game. But now becaues he dosen't want to play again he's just trying to break everything he wants or sees as a remote threat.

He's still a threat himself, still easily outmaneuvers our hero at first: She finds his illicit mine? He sends goons. They survive the ambush? He throws everyone in prison and plans to frame them for his crimes. What makes starscream fascinating here is even when throwing a tantrum because baby not getting enough attention.. he's still fucking terrifying. He has windblade fucking tortured, only stopping when he realizes "No she really didn't blow herself up to get points that's a you thing". He CAN maneuver things and as seen in the climax easily fights off most of the cast and nearly kills windblade till she plugs herself into the city itself. This book does a fantastic job making starscream terrifying and despite his complexity not showing as much.. he's still engaging.

He's also what helps windblade slowly develop: She starts just trying to do the right thing.. but quickly proves to be far more capable, far more badass and far more of a fighter and manipulator than Starscream could've imagined. The second she realizes he's actively trying to kill her... she stops seeing the best in him. I mean think about it.. all it took was one day of her taking him seriously as a threat and she finds out he has a mining operation to find an ore tha twould make him invincible, makes allies easy because no one like starscream and easily revolts even escaping jail. He still comes CLOSE to beating her.. but in a day she has proof off his crimes, has proven she can protect that proof. It's a throughly engaging back and forth: Windblade may be mildly outnumbered.. but she's not giving up. She may speak for the city.. but she can damn well fight for it. She still has lessons to learn like her foes can fly, but she learns them as she goes.

She also gets a hard truth in the big twist.. and it's one I have mixed feelings on. Starscream is not behind the bombings. Nor is his minion rattrap and since we're on the topic I do like IDW rattrap to a point, but I liked him more when he was more weasely and spineless, as it fit early beast wars rattrap's characterization than a torturing monster. I also questoin why IDW only trickled in two beast wars characters at all. Glad to have them but it's still just.. why. You have a massive franchise to mine why are you like this.

Back on topic this brings us to our third lead.. and our secondary Villian, Chromia. Chromia is seemingly windblade's only friend besides ironhide at first, her bodyguard, her best friend and perhaps more. I do TRY not to pair up every remotely romantic friendship I see.. but int his ecase.. Chormia tries to open a space bridge, endagering all or cybetron... to save Windblade> She also talks about seeing enough of her tail fans, aka her ass. There.. isn't a straight explination for either thing.

Chromia is a mixed bag mostly because the series bein gshort.. dosent' really have time to unpack it and I don't remember the followups really doing much to do so. Windblade's best freind betrays her in a horrific way and we just.. don't get time to process it. Maybe when I revisit the other series, as I intend to, we'll get a better arc.

I do like the position it puts windblade in for the climax. It complete's the journey she's been on.. as she plays starscream. His silence and stopping the mining shit.. and in exchange.. other worlds. Caminus isn't the ONLY colony and when theyf ind them.. he can have the credit. It's her using her good nature.. to play his game. She geninely just wants a better world. CYbetron won't last, caminus won't last... so who cares who the fuck gets the credit. It also gives her time WITHOUT him trying to murder her. She takes the blame for Chromia not to save her entirely, but because it puts her in a better positoin: Starscream THINKS he has dirt on her, and while she'd take the fall if it happens, she has dirt on him. It's sneaky, underhanded.. but it feels way more organic than the supposdely "grey" actions of the autbots last series. Windblade is doing something shady.. but it's the only way to buy herself and caminus time. She can deal with starscream later. Right now she just wants a better world. And it's a question of CAN she keep up with this kind of thing and if so what will that make her? And it's a question we'll answer eventually.

So some scatterd thoughts. The art by sarah stone is fucking gorgeous. Truly amazing stuff. Nice digital work. It's expressive and cartoony but the line work and ink make it feel raw and real: it let's the transfromers be bold nad colorful.. but the skethciness helps underline how dark the story is.

I love the idea of the titans, them being these big larger than life beings.. and of metroplex, being a kind friend who adores his speaker and in her darkest hour helps pull her out. I also like the message of this: speakers are supposed to subsume themselves, be one with the city and answer only to others.. but windblade wins by being herself and selfless. By being a person, not consumed by duty but still bound to it. Being a cityspeaker is part of her.. but she is not metroplex. She is his friend. And she will fight for him.

Windblade.. is a masterpiece. Going over it again three times, ocne to read it, once for the first draft and again when that draft mostly done got ate by tumblr, it shows off just what a fantastic book this is. The pacing probably coudl've been slowed down a tad, but I get it. This was the pilot. The series would sadly always get punched with pacing, with the next one opening on a crossover we'll get to, the one after having to bridge series fast and till all are one having to wrap up quicker because IDW impulsively decided to reboot everything. Despite all this windblade is excellent and you should go find it in some corner of the internet while we wait for IDW to republish it. I"m pulling for you, we're all in this together.

#transformers windblade #windblade #chromia #starscream #rattrap #ironhide #waspinator #comics #marghreid scott #idw #transformers idw #idw publishing #robots #transformers

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morelikeravenbore · 2 years ago

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Hogwarts Legacy Masterlist

Hello and welcome to my blog! I go by Aura, I'm an aspiring author and I'm obsessed with Sebastian Sallow and my sassy French Ravenclaw bebe Aurélie Collins.

Asks are open but I much prefer yapping about The Characters than about myself. Mean anons are immediately blocked and ignored. 💅

I write a mix of sfw and nsfw content. Reader discretion is advised.

Thanks for stopping by! Love u!

[COMPLETED] long fic | Sebastian Sallow x Aurélie Collins

[TUMBLR | WATTPAD | AO3]

Seventh year, post-canon/canon-divergent (no gameplay retelling, goblin rebellion or keepers), eventual romance.

tropes: dual pov, slow burn, eventual romance, idiots in love, mutual pining, hurt comfort, suppressed powers, exploration of villain arcs.

CW: [rated mature, no smut.] The story explores themes of grief, loss and trauma. Mentions of murder, family loss, mild violence and sexual references.

word count: 112k | chapters: 30

"If Aurélie Collins had to choose one word to best describe herself, she supposed it would be, to put it as delicately as she could: "completely and utterly overwhelmed." Granted, that was four words, not one, but as she trudged down yet another unfamiliar corridor, she was simply relieved she could string together a coherent sentence at all; after the last few months of hell she'd endured, Aurélie wasn't her usual eloquent self, to say the least."

🦋 tags: #aurelie collins #sebaura #how to make a villain #morelikeravenbore writes

Spicy One-Shots

🔞 MASTERLIST | NSFW | MDNI

Sebastian Sallow x unnamed female. Mostly Sebastian's POV. Triggers and content warnings on each post. All characters are 18+. Minors dni, please and thank you.

Fluffy One-Shots

🍭 MASTERLIST | SFW | FLUFF

Sebastian x Aurélie headcanons. Fandom friendship crossovers. Discord writing events. General cuteness.

Sebastian

Screenshots (coming soon)

🔞 Spicy alphabet | nsfw

🍭 Fluffy alphabet | sfw

🐍Sebastian Sallow, the yapper (and other such headcanons) | sfw

💕 Sebastian x Aurélie headcanons | sfw

Requested

🍭 Ominis Gaunt headcanons | sfw

Aurélie Collins

Screen shots

Gifs

Art & commissions

Moodboards

Aurélie's alphabet | sfw Five facts: part one | part two Ravenclaw pride

#hogwarts legacy fanfiction #Sebastian Sallow fanfiction #hogwarts legacy fandom #Sebastian Sallow #Sebastian Sallow fanfic #Hogwarts legacy fanfic #aurelie collins #how to make a villain #Hogwarts legacy smut #Sebastian Sallow smut #sebastian sallow oneshot #Hogwarts legacy oneshot #ravenclaw mc #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy oc #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebaura #hogwarts legacy

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linnetagain · 1 year ago

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Hi! I’m not sure if you’re comfortable answering questions about your fics here so please feel free to ignore this if you’re not.

I’m a russian queer who left a comment under chapter 3 of The Season and I’m super qurious why you decided to make Астарион :), Cazador and Halsin russian. In Good Men and Monsters you mention that Astarion has been called upyr, does he have Eastern European background in that universe as well?

I’m completely enamoured with and fascinated by your works and wait for new updates religiously. Thank you so much for sharing them with us, you’re a солнышко! 🖤

Hello friend!! I am slow to answer but happy to! I can't promise I'll be very eloquent or be able to provide a satisfying answer but I'll do my best.

First of all, I haven't specified Astarion's background in Good Men and I likely won't, so if you want to read him as Eastern European please do! I can absolutely see how it fits. In the context of that discussion it's the concept of Vampirism and the folklore surrounding it that is focused on Eastern Europe rather than he himself. I am absolutely not going to touch some of Stoker's vampiric lore because he was a xenophobic Victorian man (the boxes of dirt... goddamn, Stoker, what the fuck - the grave dirt of course is relevant in Good Men but it's 'the soil the vampire was buried in' not 'fifty boxes of soil from his homeland'). I could write a whole essay on the symbolism of the outsider as a threat and the crossover of the ostracized sections of Victorian society in Dracula (non-english, lower class, homosexual, the list goes on and fucking on) but this is already a long reply so I'll spare you and look at Season.

There are a couple of reasons that it fits, for me, and a lot of it is to do with the Russian history of competitive ice skating. Writing a modern AU Astarion who wasn't a vampire meant I knew I needed to find another way to have that aspect of his character where his life hasn't been his own, where it's been shaped by other people for their own purposes, and even as an adult and being 'free' to make his own choices, he's living with the legacy of who they made him, and working to be more than that. Competitive sport definitely has that aspect already, unfortunately, and ice skating even more so.

I also never wanted him to be the only Russian, because then of course you're risking tokenizing him. Cazador made sense for obvious reasons, but Halsin too. I considered him because he's the other high elf companion, but also because in game he's the one with a history of war. Transferring him to a modern day context was harder than a lot of the other characters, but I wanted him to have that similar ground with Astarion that he has in game, even if they never address it. Unintentionally, it means that in Season he and Astarion have very different experiences of their culture and identity, especially in context of the diaspora, which is something I really enjoy exploring.

Of course that then raises the question of the current geopolitical state of Russia and the wider Slavic regions. Having real world issues as a basis for plot is always somewhat fraught, but it's also something very close to my heart and that I want to write about. I also didn't want to make them all British to avoid any of that difficulty, that would be both unrealistic and uninteresting.

I think the ultimate reason is that fiction, even fanfiction, is our way of processing and reflecting on and exploring our world. It's less obvious in fantasy settings, but it's still very much there. The ultimate reason I choose to do anything is because it's interesting - and usually, in a real world context, that means it's fraught and complicated. I want to write about things that matter, to me and to anyone who might read it, and I want to do it in a way that means anyone reading from a different context might feel seen.

The reason I started writing in the first place, however many years ago, is that I didn't see any asexual rep in fiction and I knew that if I needed it, someone else needed it too. I do the same now. I have queer Russian friends who feel like the world has moved on from what's going on in Russia at the moment, or that all Russian people are being treated like they MUST agree with what the Russian government are doing. The nuance of the situation and their identity is erased by oversimplification. I suppose part of writing this is just me wanting to do anything I can to combat that. It's not much, but I hope it's something, to know that you're seen and still being thought about, and people still care.

Writing characters who have dealt with miscarriage, drug abuse, xenophobia, chronic pain, emotional neglect and all those kinds of things is because I have feelings about these subjects, I want to discuss them, I want to explore what it means to live through something like that and how it affects you as a person. Fiction is a space to do that, and to invite people into those conversations that we wouldn't have otherwise. Art has always been a starting point, and it's always been at the forefront of social and political change. I don't write fanfic thinking it's going to change the world, obviously, but I do write it with the intention of treating real life situations with the respect and consideration they deserve, rather than just using them for drama or brushing over them because it's a difficult thing to talk about.

I know that Season is a love story. That's the ultimate goal, and I presume that's why people are still reading. But it's also, to me, a story about what it means to be queer in our world today. What that looks like, how far we've come and how far we still have left to go. I want to give people a story that is real, in that sense. That takes in all the fucking awful shit that can come with being queer and out and open, and still have hope and a happy ending. It's not easy, and I don't ever want to pretend that it is. But fiction also gives us a place where we can imagine what a happy ending might look like, in a world that doesn't provide them as often as we'd like.

So. Sorry for the essay as a response, but. I suppose I made Astarion Russian because it made sense for his character, but also because I want to write with hope, and not manufacturing false hope by turning away from the world as it is. I want to write all the awful, difficult, horrible things, and believe that happiness and hope are possible anyway, despite, and including them. We don't live in an ideal world. Sometimes I want to cave to despair and think that things will never be better. I write because I don't want to believe that's true.

#bloodweave #the season #good men and monsters

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oscconfessions · 1 year ago

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hi i'm the original author of the inanimate insanity x bible crossover and my friend showed me the continuation of its lore...its very fun to see its legacy live on! here's a fun fact: as the tags say, i was rewatching iii with my friends and i can't remember which episode but mephone flung his arms in the air and i said something along the lines of "woah he's being crucified". also i wrote a shitpost where four and x broke up because x thought their relationship went against the word of god. happy writing!

holy shit hello. you're awesome !! thank you for your writing it has entertained quite a lot of people -🫒

#confession #skips the queue #/ii #/ii/mephone4 #and also #/oscc #mod response

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matchalovertrait · 7 months ago

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It’s that time of year where being reflective seems to happen as the new year awaits.

What’s one thing you’re proud of? It could be sims related or personal you decide 😌

Hello hello my friend 😌 thank you for this ask <3

Hmm, that's pretty hard to answer because there are many cool things I've done here that I never thought I'd be able to!

Probably one of the big things I'm proud of is being able to invoke emotion? I'm not saying I'm amazing at it, but the fact that I'm able to do it even a little is crazy to me 😂 Someone said recently that my sims have made them laugh and cry—like what???? You're pulling my leg!

Anyway, I'll name some of my favorite moments in the Alegría Legacy that got strong reactions lol.

Erick possibly cheating on Noemí???

Dulce comparing Hilary to a booger.

THE newspaper issue.

Noemi comforting Dulce after being bullied at school.

Diced Junior!

Dulce filming and posting the Alto exposé video.

Dulce and Alex's breakup.

Alfonso Alto's arrest.

Alex taking Dulce to prom.

The bittersweet ending of Generation 1.

Dulce and Caruso's rivalry arc.

The entire trip to Scotland.

Dulce moving out of her childhood home.

Cosita's adoption!

Caruso's backstory.

All the cool crossovers I've been doing with my mutuals :)

The launch of Dulce's first cookbook!

The marriage proposal rejection.

Caruso's stupid video.

Antonio's existence.

Alegría v Caruso.

Operation Fox.

#i like a lot of the stuff i do 😆 even if they're not the highest quality stuff #cuz ik i'm doing my best and having fun lol #thanks again for the ask!#matcha mail

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ladylynse · 1 year ago

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Secret Trio/Secret Quartet three sentence fics below the cut! For more like this, see my other three sentence fics/crossover three sentence fics, my tumblr fic masterpost, random WIP scenes and snippets, fic ideas, or find me on FFnet and the AO3! Also, take a peek at the fanart and fanfic I’ve been gifted.

If you like my work, you can consider buying me a coffee. (I write thank you snippets–which could be an expansion of a three sentence fic if you like!)

Adrien and Plagg (”watching idols”) Jake and Adrien (”painting” x2) Jake and Randy (“trapped”) Randy, Jake, (Danny, Adrien) (“rat”) Danny, Adrien, Randy, Jake (”Hide”) Adrien, Jake, Danny, Randy (”Jake, who is Rose?”) Jake and Danny (”TUE happened”) Marinette/Ladybug and Adrien/Chat Noir (”failed over and over again”) Adrien, Jake, Danny, Randy, Marinette (“redemption/corruption”, ”path of destruction”) Marinette, Jake, Danny, Randy, (Adrien) (”shoulder to cry on”) Adrien, Marinette, Danny, Randy, Jake (”Hello, Ladybug” x2) Danny, Adrien, Jake, (Randy) (”hey, guys, where’s ---?”) Adrien, Randy, Jake, Danny (”I-I can’t hear his heartbeat”) //death alt (more painful) version | follow up Marinette, Danny, (Adrien, Lila, Elliot) (”Lila and Elliot”, “liars”, ”two peas in a pod”) Lila and Elliot (”partners in crime”) Jake, Randy, Danny, Adrien (”power/mind swap”) Randy, Jake, Rose, (Danny, Adrien) (”meeting Rose post Hong Kong Longs”) | related Jake, Randy, (Danny, (Adrien)) (”80 word challenge”) Randy, Adrien, (Danny, Jake) (”ghost king au”, “ghosts vs magical creatures”) Danny, (Randy, First Ninja, (Adrien, Jake)) (”ghost king au”, “Danny helps Randy remain the Ninja”) Randy, (Danny, Jake) (”about being mind-wiped”) Jake, Danny (Randy, ((Adrien)) (”there’s no one left”) Jake, Randy, Adrien, (Danny) (”Danny tells them about Dani”) Randy and Marinette (”Ladybug mistakes one of the SQ for an akuma”) Marinette, Adrien, (Danny, Randy, Jake) (”SQ post ML reveal”) Adrien, Danny, (Randy, Jake, Plagg) (”temporary power swap”) Danny, Adrien, Randy, (Jake) (”identity reveal of Danny Phantom”) Susan, Jake, Jonathan, (Danny, Adrien, Randy) (”parents find out”) Adrien, Danny, (Randy, Jake) (”legacy”) Adrien, Jake, Danny, (Randy, Luka) (”snake”) Danny, (Jake, Randy, Adrien, Jack, Maddie) (”Fentons find out”, “angst with a happy ending”) Randy (”Randy remembers”) Adrien, Jake, Randy, (Danny) (”bee”) Randy, Jake, (Danny, Adrien) (”comic book”) Danny, Jake, (Randy, Adrien, Vlad) (”Uncle Vlad AU”) Danny, Randy, (Adrien, Jake) (”broken sky”)

Adrien, Danny, Randy, (Jake) (”siblings”) Jake and Adrien (”Rotwood”) Ladybug, Adrien, (Danny, Randy, Jake) (”reinforcements”) Randy, (Adrien, Jake, Danny) (”prophetic dream”) Randy, Danny, (Adrien, Jake, Ghostwriter) (”true friendship”) Jake, Plagg, (Adrien, Danny, Jake) (”that was you?”) Randy, Adrien, (Jake, Danny) (”frostbite”) Danny, Randy, Jake, Adrien (”first date help”) Adrien, Randy, (Danny, Jake) (”apocalypse”) Danny, Jake, (Adrien, Gramps, Haley, Fu Dog, Susan, Jonathan) (”escape from NYC) Randy, Adrien, (Danny, Jake) (”Stabby the roomba”) Randy, Adrien, (Danny, Jake) (”love square”) Jazz, (Haley, Howard) (”evil clones”) Adrien and Danny (”discovered”) Adrien, Randy, Danny, (Jake) (”war zone”) Jake, (Adrien, Randy, Danny) (”Miracle Queen”) Debbie, Theresa, (Adrien, Randy) (”cartwheel”) Heidi, Jake, (Howard, Randy, Danny, Adrien) (”busted”) now expanded FF | AO3 Jake, Randy, (Danny, Adrien) (”nasty sauce”) Bunnyx (”Chat Blanc”) Jacques (”inspiration”) Danny, Plagg, Adrien, (Jake, Randy) (”Box Ghost”) Plagg, Danny, Randy, (Jake, Adrien) (”blood magic”) Gabriel and Desiree (”be careful what you wish for”) Adrien, Jake, Randy, Danny (”what are you?”) Randy, Jake, (Danny, Adrien) (”he treats us well”) Randy, Jake, (Danny, Adrien) (”mermaids”) Jake, (Randy, Danny, Adrien, Gregory) (”arrogance”) Ladybug/Marinette and Adrien (”confessions”) Marty, (Randy, Danny, Adrien, Jake) (”entire world”) Danny, (Randy, Adrien, Jake) (”fire”, “reveal”) Jake, Danny, (Randy, Adrien) (”grenade”) Jake, Danny, (Adrien, Randy) (”mercenary”) Randy, Debbie, (Danny, Adrien, Jake) (”Debbie/Randy”) Adrien, Jake, Danny, Randy (”new year”) Jake, Adrien, (Danny, Randy) (”fallout”) Danny, Adrien, Jake, (Randy) (”stargazing”)

Now on the AO3 Randy, Debbie, Adrien, (Danny, Jake) (”Kangham”, “hide”)

#secret quartet #secret trio #danny phantom #miraculous ladybug #rc9gn #adjl #dp #gf #american dragon jake long #randy cunningham 9th grade ninja #three sentence fics #three sentence fic #my writing #ladylynse #fic masterpost #masterpost #guess where my links kept breaking

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3pirouette · 10 months ago

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Fic: Winter's Children (1/1) (Part of the Nobody's Baby Universe)

Title: Winter’s Children

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: Read HERE on AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Part SEVEN of the Nobody's Baby Universe (Click for all stories)

Story Summary: Mandy’s parentage is finally revealed. A story set over 3 decades, with a glimpse into the SHIELD legacy of the Rogers family.

Posted for Steggy Week 2024, Day 3, AU’s and Crossovers, because the Nobody’s Babu Universe is my personal favorite AU I’ve ever written for them.

A/N: So, the science in here is gonna sound a little more 90’s criminal drama than late 70’s… but we’re just going to pretend SHIELD was that far ahead, ok? Ok.

~*~

August 1955

The knock on the front door startled Steve, enough that his grip slipped and James’ foot kicked out, landing square in his dirty diaper and smearing the contents across the changing table. He groaned, and wrestled the one-year-old for control. “Mandy!” he called, “Can you see who is at the door?” He heard the patter of her feet run past the nursery and bound down the stairs as he tried to hold his son down and grab a cloth to clean him at the same time, the boy giggling away. The afterthought hit him quickly, “Don’t open it!”

He was on edge. He’d slept alone last night: Peggy was on a stakeout that was important enough to keep her hands twisting and her eye twitching all week. He felt nothing but dread at the sound of the door, but had little choice but to continue to try to fight his small son for control and rid him of his dirty diaper.

Mandy let out a happy squeal. “It’s Uncle Jarvis and Aunt Ana!” He heard her jump close to the stairs. “I can see that it’s just them from the front window. Can I let them in?”

Steve sighed. Even if he wanted her to wait, he was in no shape to go down there himself. Surely, at ten, she was old enough to know friends from strangers. James had managed to make a mess of the both of them, and he could sorely use another pair of hands. “Yes, please.”

He listened carefully to the happy greetings as he pulled another cloth from the changing table, shaking his head. “How did you do this, James? It’s everywhere!” The boy cooed at him, and Steve could only smile, despite the sinking feeling.

“Hello?” Jarvis called, his footfalls up the stairs soft and quiet.

“In the nursery!” Steve called back. It took only seconds for Jarvis to pop his head into the room. “You’re right on time, I’m in dire need of reinforcements.”

The butler’s eyes bulged wide. “Yes, quite so.” Without another word, Jarvis stepped in, grabbing a towel from the closet in the hall and wetting it, handing it to Steve. “How in the world did the young master manage that?”

Steve shook his head, wiping the smeared excrement from James’ legs. “I’m guessing it’s some combination of the strained peas and yogurt.” Steve got him clean enough for the moment, and hastily diapered him. “Definitely a bath tonight.” James giggled as Steve tucked him into a new romper. “Can you…” Steve pointed at the boy then back at his own filth covered arms.

“Oh, yes,” Jarvis nodded quickly and lifted James from the table, holding him as Steve took the wet towel and cleaned his own arms as well before tossing it aside with the diaper that needed to be cleaned. “Peg’s gonna kill me. Keeps saying I forgot how to change a diaper.”

Steve’s stomach dropped a bit at the way Jarvis’s face fell. His heart skipped a beat and he felt like his lungs were squeezed tight. “What happened?”

Jarvis sighed, ushering Steve to the bathroom and watching as he soaped up and down his arms in the sink. “I’m afraid Mrs. Rogers is quite stubborn.” Jarvis only tilted his head at the look of fake incredulity Steve shots him. “She got into quite the tussle last night, but declined any sort of interventions, despite the fact that three of her team are still in the hospital as we speak.

Steve’s head perked up. “Hospital?”

Jarvis held up a hand. “She fared much better, I’m happy to report. She’s at the mansion now, resting.” Steve pushed past the man, leaving him calling down the hall after him. “Despite protests, Ana and I felt it best you go see her. We’ll mind the children.”

He paused only to change his shirt, shove his boots on his feet, and drop a kiss on each of his children’s heads before he was racing out of the garage on his motorcycle.

The fifteen-minute drive felt like hours. He was seething in anger and scared as hell by the time he skidded to a stop at the front door. He marched up the stairs, ready to bang on the door, and quickly stumbled past it into the foyer when it was opened before he could even touch it.

He caught himself before he fell, hands on his knees. “I suppose I should thank them,” Peggy’s soft voice rang out, “but they did go behind my back.”

He stood and turned to her, his face falling when he saw the swelling that held one eye shut and the purple bruising around it. “Peg…”

Peggy ducked under his hand when he went to reach for her. “No, Steve. I don’t want to hear it. I’m fine.”

His mouth formed a tight line, his hands on his hips and the ire that had fled from him when he stumbled into the house rose back up. “Fine? You could have broken bones!” He took a deep breath and followed her when she closed the door and moved into one of the lounges. “Hell, you could have had brain damage.”

“You and I both know that with enough time I’ll be just fine.” She flopped onto a couch and reached out to the side table behind her, pulling a bag of ice back up over her bruise.

“Whatever you picked up from James is going away. You have to be more—”

“It was him,” she interrupted with a whisper. “The Winter Soldier.”

Her words halted the start of the familiar fight they’d been having and he sank down on the couch next to her. “You’re sure?”

“Metal arm and all,” she sighed out, moving the ice over her eye. “It’s how I got this. Stopped Thompson from getting two to the head, but caught his backhand.”

Steve sighed, lifting her feet into his lap and started running his hand over her shin. “That’s why you were so…”

“I suspected,” she answered the question he hadn’t asked. “I thought perhaps it would be him. I didn’t expect us to get so close, though.”

His head fell, his words soft. “I’m going with you next time.”

She sat up, ice falling to her lap, her own tone leaving no room for argument. “We’ve had this fight already, Steve. You or me. Never both.” She took a deep breath, the eye that wasn’t swollen shut clouding over, “I won’t risk those children living without the both of us, you hear me? Not after what I saw last night.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” he quickly mumbled, picking up the ice from her lap. “I just hate seeing you like this. Feeling helpless.” He held it up to her eye, waiting until she took it before moving his hand away. “I guess I’m not adjusting as quickly as I’d like.”

“To what?” she laughed lightly. “You went from being a super soldier, thwarting death at every turn, to a house husband that occasionally goes on missions while I galivant around the world as head of a secret intelligence agency.” She chuckled, the ice sloshing in the bag with her movement. “Sounds like it could be a real prime time smash comedy, eh?” She reached out for his hand and sighed happily when he took it, growing more serious. “I think it’s harder than either of us thought to make this happen. Especially now with James. Neither of us went back into the field until years after we got Mandy. This is all new, we may have to reassess.”

Steve nodded, but didn’t speak. After a long stretch of quiet he couldn’t hold the question inside. “What about the Winter Soldier?”

“He did some damage, that’s for sure.” She shook her head, the ice rattling in the bag, “All of us together there were six bullet wounds, a handful of broken ribs, a broken leg, and one ghastly eye. And he got his target, so we failed there.” She shook her head, pulling the ice off before sitting up. “It’s been three years since we’ve had a lead. He’s back in the wind for who knows how long.”

Steve let his hand ghost over her purpled jaw. “Did you see his face?”

She shook her head and leaned into his touch, wincing but pressing into his hand, anyway. “He wears some kind of mask, covers almost all of his face.” She chucked sadly. “I think I’ll need one of those.”

Steve shook his head, letting his thumb run over the darkest of the bruises under her eye. “You should have gone to the hospital.”

“And what?” Peggy leaned back, letting his hand fall to her shoulder. “How was I supposed to explain how quickly I was healing to them?” She pulled the ice back over her eye, a shiver running through her. “No, best to stay here, avoid scaring the children for a day or so.”

Steve’s lip quirked up. “You think the Jarvis’ would mind looking after the kids if I stayed a while?”

“Mind?” Peggy blew threw her teeth, then winced when the movement sent a shock up the side of her jaw. “Mr. Jarvis is so completely done with my antics that he stopped talking to me, and Ana hasn’t stopped talking to me about James since I arrived. I think that they’ll be disappointed if you don’t stay.”

Steve hummed happily, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Peggy’s hairline. “Well, then I’ll just have to stay for a bit.”

He held her for a long, quiet moment, the only sound in the large mansion the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall and the tinkling of the ice shifting with each breath Peggy took.

“I know… I know you can’t promise me anything,” Steve whispered, raking his fingers through her hair, “but just say you’ll try, ok?”

Her voice was soft, sensing the seriousness of his words. “Try what, my darling?”

“Try to be careful?” He asked, his voice breaking just slightly. “Try to stay safe. Try to come back.”

Peggy dropped the bag of ice, shifting in his arms to straddle his lap. She cradled his cheeks in her hands, eyes taking in the bags under his eyes, the tight strain at their corners, the way the muscles in his jaw twitched, all full of stress and fear. “The day…” She paused, took a deep breath, and started again, letting the emotion fuel her but not stop her, “The day I don’t come back to you or our children is the day that God himself has stopped me.” She caressed his cheek gently. “Nothing short of that would ever keep me away from you.”

Steve couldn’t keep the tears from forming in his eyes. “I know, Peg, but these people… the Winter Soldier…” He sighed, pressing his cheek against her good one, “The Devil works hard, Peg.”

She pressed a gentle kiss to the edge of his jaw by her lips. “Yes, my love, but I work harder.”

~*~

July 1971

The humid summer air of New Jersey gave Peggy migraines. Had she been able to stay in the SHIELD bunker, like she’d planned for the day, her temple wouldn’t be pounding, but she’d been required to be up on the surface a handful of times, and bouncing between hot and humid and the naturally chilly underground, she was nearly seeing double.

She slammed the file she was reading shut, looking up and finding Rose already opening the door. “Blissful, just the woman I wanted to see.” Peggy closed her eyes and sighed, the promise of home all the nearer. “I’m taking an early day, can you call a car for me?”

Rose, who was usually worried beyond measure that something was wrong or happy that Peggy was taking time for herself, was uncharacteristically neither. Instead, her eyes wrinkled and her mouth pinched shut. “I’m sorry, Director Carter, but I think you need to stay just a little bit longer today.”

Peggy ground her teeth tight, knowing Rose wouldn’t even utter those words unless she was sure it was something that needed her attention. “Please tell me it isn’t another ‘diplomatic misunderstanding’ between Howard and some female dignitary?”

Rose shook her head sharply, “No, but Doctor Mills would like to see you. He says it’s urgent.”

Peggy cleared her desk and nodded. “Very well, send him in.”

Franklin Mills was their top research and development scientist, and the only one of their team, aside from Howard and Pym, who had nearly top-level clearance. The man was quiet and reserved and never, ever, came up to Peggy’s office himself unless it was of the direst importance.

He slipped in quietly past Rose once she waved him in, his bald head glinting in the light as he looked at the floor. He was nervous, and that made Peggy worry. “Franklin, to what do I owe the pleasure?” She tried to keep her tone light as she folded her hands on her desk, but the man was nearly trembling before her.

“D-Director Carter,” he very rarely stuttered, and it sent Peggy’s heart pounding. “We’ve been working on extracting the DNA from the sample our team discovered at the attempted UN assassination.”

Peggy nodded, waiting as calmly as she could. It was a thwarted assassination attempt. The target, a dignitary from Germany, managed with only a punctured lung and was expected to recover fairly well. The assassin slipped through their fingers, leaving only a dime sized spot of blood and one agent in intensive care.

There were whispers that it was him: the Winter Soldier.

Publicly, she told her agents to focus on the concrete evidence and stop whispering rumors. Privately, she knew first hand that experiments to enhance soldiers hadn’t died with Erskine. Not only was Mandy proof, they’d raided three abandoned Red Room facilities after the war that remained classified.

The Winter Soldier: a man who had more speed, strength, and agility than any other save her husband, was a very real possibility, and she and Steve were determined to stop him.

She tried to smile to calm the man, but couldn’t. “I’m well aware. Have you found something?”

He slid a small handful of papers over to her. “I haven’t- These are the initial print outs. Nothing’s been saved and no one else has seen them, I swear.”

Peggy looked at the graphs, the numbers and words making little sense. She looked up, laying her hands on the pages. “Franklin, you know very well I have no idea what I’m looking at.”

He swallowed, hard. “We were able to get a viable sample, and we ran it through our database. I didn’t expect anything, because we don’t have a lot of people in there yet but…”

“But?” She was getting impatient now.

“The Wint—" he stopped himself and restarted, “The assassin and your daughter are a familial match. I ran them twice.” He threw up his hands, ranting quickly. “It- it doesn’t match Captain Rogers, either, I’m afraid to say. The assassin… or your daughter.”

Peggy’s hands spayed out over the data as she took a shaky breath. Mills was still stuttering before her and she stopped him by holding up her hand. “Sit, Franklin.”

She opened her mouth, looking the poor man in the eyes, then closed it again. She almost laughed at the absurdity of it all: the man thought he’d lose his job, or worse, for thinking he’d discovered that she’d been unfaithful. Mandy was an agent with SHIELD, had barely been in the organization long enough to be known all that well except it was well known that she was Peggy and Steve’s daughter. It had been a double-edged sword for the girl from day one, but she’d slowly and surely been proving herself to those around her.

It was the only reason Mandy’s DNA was in their ever-growing database.

She looked back up at him, face as plain as she could make it. “Remind me of your clearance level, Doctor Mills.”

He didn’t stutter, and she was proud of him for that. “One B, Ma’am.”

She nodded. “What I’m about to divulge is considered top level classified information, do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he nodded swiftly.

“If I hear anything about this, I will know it was you who let it out and I will see you prosecuted as per SHIELD’s regulations regarding classified information, is that clear?”

The man swallowed thickly, “Yes.”

She sighed, pulling open her drawer and taking out a small gilded double frame. She held it out to him. “Agent Rogers, Mandy… my daughter,” she tripped over her tongue a few times, the pounding in her skull and the pounding of her heart making it hard to focus, “was adopted. Captain Rogers and I, along with the Howling Commandos, found her in a HYDRA science base.”

The man’s eyes widened as she slid over the frame, opening it to reveal two of their earliest family pictures. The one on the left of the frame had been a picture Morita had gifted them with the first time he made it back from the front. He’d snapped it when they hadn’t been looking mere hours after they’d gotten back to the base. Peggy was holding a still tiny and unnamed Mandy tight in her arms, Steve, shield on his back, was standing across from them, and both were looking down at the baby in what could only be described as frightened wonder. The second had been posed, a picture Howard snapped the day the three of them moved into their house with Steve holding Mandy and with an arm around Peggy, standing on the front steps. Mills looked up then back to the pictures.

“It’s not quite as scandalous as you may have imagined, but I’m sure you can see why we don’t discuss it often.” Peggy pulled the pictures back and snapped the case shut, sliding it back in her desk drawer. “Mandy’s parentage has always been unknown to us, though we’ve had our suspicions along the way.”

“Is she…?” He didn’t finish, the question had slipped out and he covered his mouth with his hand.

She didn’t answer, but leaned forward, instead. “As your director, I’m asking you to keep this ‘eyes only’ and off the record. As your friend, I’m asking you to understand why.”

Mills nodded, still looking slightly confused and upset. He always was a bit squirrely about working for an agency that dealt in espionage. He expected to be told to do unethical things at every corner, and was always spoiling for a fight that wasn’t there. Sometimes, Peggy thought he didn’t realize that he was working for the good guys.

“Franklin,” Peggy sighed, pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose, “I’m not asking you to destroy anything or hide anything. Keep the samples in there. Just, don’t tell anyone about the match, yes?”

Somewhat placated, the man nodded and stood. He reached out and shuffled his papers back into his hands. Peggy thought about keeping them for a moment, but knew Howard could pull up the information if she needed it, and Mills would feel much better if he left with it.

He slipped out the door, and she put her head in her hands.

She’d barely had time for a breath before the door opened again. “Your car is topside whenever you’re ready,” Rose whispered.

Peggy looked up, focus swimming at moving her head too quickly. “You are a godsend, Rose.” Peggy stood slowly, grabbing her purse and briefcase before moving towards the door. “What am I going to do when that shoulder of yours heals and you’re back out in the field?”

Rose rolled her shoulder carefully, wincing lightly as they moved through the bull pen to the elevators. “It’ll be a few more weeks yet, I think. That bullet did a number on me. But by then I’ll have found you a good replacement, and then I’ll be back out there babysitting the boys.”

Peggy laughed then drew in a quick breath at the sharp pain it had sent moving though her skull.

Rose waved off whatever reply Peggy had started, ushering her into the elevator.

Rose was already on the phone before the elevator hit the surface.

~*~

Steve met her at the door with a shot of whisky and two pain relievers, handing them over and taking her briefcase and purse as she entered the house.

Peggy swallowed the pills dry then chased them with the whisky, gulping it all down in one shot. “Rose?” she asked, voice coarse from the liquid burning its way down the back of her throat.

“Yup,” he nodded, closing the door behind her and dropping her bags on the side table. He dropped a kiss on her forehead and wrapped his arms around her as she melted against him. “She said you didn’t look too good.”

Peggy let herself snuggle into his embrace, eyes closing as he took the whisky tumbler from her and set it on the table beside them. “Look, feel… take your pick. It was a beastly day.”

He hummed and kissed her hair. “What can I do?”

“Migraine first, international espionage second,” she mumbled.

“Migraine?” he sighed, shifting and lifting her from her feet and carrying her up the stairs. “I wouldn’t have led with whisky.”

“Swhy I didn’t tell ya,” she slurred, more from exhaustion taking over than any effect the alcohol had on her, leaning against him. She felt drained, having fought to get through most of the day and she could feel how little energy there was left to give. Steve set her gently on their bed, then moved around the room, lowering the shades to block out the evening sun.

She kicked her shoes off and slipped out of her jacket, tossing it over the side of the bed as Steve slipped out. He came back just in time to watch her pull her bra out through the arm hole of her tank top, his eyebrows raised as he held out the glass of water to her. “Nobody but us here, Peg.” He sat on the edge of the bed and handed her the glass, waiting until she drank the whole thing. “I’ve seen it all before.”

She laughed through her nose, laying back on the bed and shimmying out of her skirt and stockings. “Just want to be comfortable.”

He eyed her, looking up and down as she snuggled onto the bed, in just her underwear and sleeveless silk bouse, hair mussed. He kissed her forehead and ran a hand over her hip. “Oh, if you didn’t have a migraine…” the lust was put on, and elicited the smile he was hoping for.

He stood, stepping in the bathroom and coming back with a damp washcloth. “Should I or do you want to do it?” He held it out to her, waiting as she blinked up at him, confused. “I don’t want to listen to you complaining about mascara stains on laundry day.”

She had so little energy left that she simply closed her eyes and lifted her head to him.

Steve’s hand gently pulled the cloth across her skin, taking the make-up with it. “Wow, it’s a bad one, huh?”

She hummed. “I’m wiped,” she murmured as he took off her lipstick.

He bent and kissed her lips gently, swiping the cloth over her face once more for good measure as he sat up. “Good thing I’m home today.”

Peggy shifted, finding a good spot on her pillow. “Oh, I’m sure the front entrance tile would feel nearly as nice right now if you weren’t.”

“That’s what I was afraid of.” He smoothed back her hair as he gestured towards the little air conditioning unit they had installed in their window for the summer. “Want me to turn the AC on?”

She hummed a positive.

“Sleep?” he asked, standing.

“Wake me for dinner.” She reached out a blind hand.

He took it, tangling their fingers together for a moment. “I’ll see what you’re looking like.”

She forced her eyes opened, pinning him with a serious gaze. “No, wake me. We have important things to discuss.”

He sighed heavily. “That the ‘international espionage’ part of all this?”

She nodded. “It can’t wait. If I could think straight at all we’d do that first.”

He knelt, looking her in the eyes, dead serious. “Are you or the kids in danger?”

Her severity softened, “Not any more than usual. But it is serious.”

He squeezed her hand then stood. “Alright. But you’re getting at least three hours sleep. I know you were up all night last night.”

“Two.” He started to admonish her, then she held up a hand, “And I’ll sleep the whole night tonight, I promise.”

He sighed, then leaned over and kissed her temple one last time. “Deal.” He flicked the light switch, waiting and watching for just a minute as Peggy settled, her breathing evening out before he shut the door.

~*~

Peggy didn’t look much better two hours later seated at the kitchen table, a cold wash cloth round her neck and her hands wrapped around a mug of tea, but once she managed to get the incident with Franklin out, Steve understood her urgency.

He slid the toast in front of her as he sat, mouth pressed tight. “It’s an answer.”

“Sure is,” Peggy mumbled, picking up one of the slices and playing at the end with her fingernail. “I don’t think she’ll like it.”

Steve barked out a laugh, leaning back against the chair. “Dislike would be an understatement.” He looked up just in time to see Peggy bite into the dry toast and watched her chew slowly and swallow cautiously. “We have to tell her,” he nearly whispered.

She nodded, taking another small bite and chasing it with tea. “No way around it.”

“You think she’ll call Howard?”

Peggy looked up to him and raised her brows, rolling her eyes. “I think she’ll call Brezhnev. Have you met our daughter?”

His cheek quirked up, the smile half sad and half full of pride. “I have, and if she thought it would do any good she’d march right over to the Kremlin and knock on the doors.”

Peggy tossed her toast back on the plate and leaned back with a sigh, pulling the cloth from around her neck and twisting it in her hands. “She’ll be devastated.” She shook her head and looked up at Steve through heavy lashes. “She’s always hoped…”

He reached out and stilled her busy fingers. “We all knew what the possibilities were.”

“It still hurt,” Peggy admitted softly, “to have the undeniable truth in front of me. To know that once and for all she wasn’t ours.”

“She’s ours in every way that counts.” He was adamant in his declaration.

Peggy stood, dropping the cloth on the table as she pushed herself into Steve’s lap, his arms wrapping around her instinctively as she laid her head on his shoulder. His fingers slowly moved into her hair, massaging little circles over her skull. She let her body sink into his for long moments, content in the solidity that was her husband, her right partner, her confidant in all of this. “Sometimes,” she finally whispered, barely loud enough to hear, “I liked to think that maybe, just maybe they’d managed it. Managed to get some bits of us somehow, and that they’d figured out how to make those little bits into a person. She’s so much like us, Steve.”

He hummed in agreement, his voice low and quiet. “Stubborn. Pig-headed. Impulsive.”

She tried to swat at his arm, but the gesture lacked any real strength. “I’m not kidding.”

“Neither am I,” he replied, kissing her forehead quickly. “She’s managed the best and the worst of us. James, too.”

“Speaking of…” She lead, eyes closing as Steve’s fingers massaged some of the pain away.

“Baseball practice.” He looked up to the clock, his fingers still massaging small circles. “Should be home soon. I promised I’d take him out and let him practice more with the car at night.”

“I can’t believe he’s driving already.” Peggy sighed. “As long as you’re still not letting him take the motorcycle.”

Steve hummed happily. “It’s looking like I’ll have to, soon. One more semester of A’s and he’ll have kept his part of the bargain.” He let his hand run over Peggy’s thigh soothingly. “He’s getting stronger. He’s having more trouble pulling his hits. He knocked three out of the park in practice yesterday. I’ll take him to Howards this weekend, see if we can help him even it out.”

“I hate asking him to hide it,” Peggy muttered.

“He understands.” Steve squeezed her close. “But he’s got his sights set on SHIELD.”

”See? Pigheaded, just like the rest of us.”

After another long moment, Steve sighed. “How’s the head?”

“Still miserable.”

He leaned back and brushed the hair from her face. “Can you manage any more toast?”

She hummed a negative and snuggled against his neck. “Do we have any more ginger tea?”

He stood, lifting her in his arms. “I’ll check once you’re settled back in bed. I shouldn’t have woken you.”

“No, I asked you to, and this was too important to put off,” Peggy held tight as he navigated the stairs, though she knew he would never drop her. “We need to come up with a plan.”

Steve gently laid her in bed. “Oh, I think I’ve got one.” He helped her slip her robe off and tucked her in Just as they heard the back door open and slam closed, James calling out that he was home. “You get some more rest, I’ll take care of everything.”

~*~

Mandy looked across the desk, her jaw hanging. “Uncle Howard, you can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack.” He shrugged and spun the folder around. “The DNA doesn’t lie. It may be new technology, but it’s sound.”

Mandy picked up the folder, studying it intently. She’d spent years of her life sitting at her Uncle Howard’s side, trying to learn everything he knew about her parentage, everything he knew about what she was capable of, until she was nearly as well versed in it as he was. “The Winter Soldier, the man that doesn’t exist, is my dad?”

He leaned back, folding his fingers behind his head. “Kinda creates more questions than it answers, huh?”

“You could say that again.” She sighed heavily, looking over the printouts again. “Mom…”

“What about her?” He leaned forward again, elbows on his desk.

“I mean, I guess….”

“She’s always known, kid, that you weren’t hers. She and Steve always knew exactly where you came from.” He reached across the desk and pushed the file down and away from her face. “If you’re thinking for one second that this will change the way they feel about you…”

She let the folder fall to her lap, her head hanging. “I was so scared they’d hate me when I first found out….”

“Yeah, I remember. But it won’t change a damn thing, and you know that.” He stood and rounded his desk, leaning on the edge and pointed to the pages she was studying. “This? This doesn’t mean a damn thing. It’s just DNA.”

Mandy smiled up to him. It was something he’d said to her many times before when her search for answers started to overwhelm her. Her Uncle Howard, for all his faults sometimes, knew exactly how to make her feel better about all of this by breaking it down into simple, non-emotional science. “How can I tell them? I don’t-”

Howard smiled down at her, knowing Steve knew his daughter, even if she wasn’t biologically his, better than anyone. “I can tell them, if you want.”

~*~

Peggy set the phone down, turning back to her husband on the other end of the couch. “Howard said it went well. Went right as you expected, really.”

Steve put down his book, rubbing his face. “She likes the science part of it, and no one knows it better than Howard.” He held out his arms. “She’ll act a little odd for a few days, then she’ll be right back to normal once she processes all of it.”

“Howard said we should act a little worried, a little shocked. She’ll want to talk, I’m sure.” Peggy snuggled into his embrace, eyes focused on the television where the news droned on in the background. “You know, Steve, we did promise no more lies.”

“It’s not a lie. It’s just… a fib about the order of when we found out.” His hand fell to her back, running over it soothingly. He could feel the way she stiffened, even though she didn’t say anything. “She was gonna take it about as well as a bull in a china shop from us and you know that.”

“I do,” Peggy finally conceded. “And I suppose we did keep up about Santa and the Easter Bunny for far too long.”

“James was little.”

Peggy looked up at him, eyebrows knitting. “You are far too comfortable with these little fibs.”

“I’m just a little shit from Brooklyn. Had to use little fibs all the time.” He smiled down at her. “Did you forget that I lied to the US Army five times?”

Peggy laughed, laying back on his shoulder. “I do tend to forget that, actually.” She rubbed his chest, smiling. “You are just a little shit from Brooklyn, aren’t you?”

“You love me for it.”

~*~

September 1985

”Mandy, watch out, that arm’s mechanical!”

She ducked, sliding under the car and pulling her gun from her holster. “You think I didn’t notice?”

James huffed into his comm, hiding at the corner of the building. “I gotta get you home in one piece, if Mom finds out-“

“Oh, she already knows,” Steve sighed into his own comm, his voice crackling into his children’s ears. “We’re two blocks away with back up, you think you can hold him?”

“Cavalry’s running a little slow today, Pops?” Mandy laughed, trying to catch her breath as she kept the Winter Soldier in her eyeline.

The comms crackled. “Very funny. You know what it took to get your mother to let me out?”

“We could use a sniper up on fifth,” James cut through the banter, a bullet flying past his position. “And a damn army,” he sighed. “Rest of the team’s gonna need a medic. He had a rocket launcher, flipped three cars. Better get clean up mobilized, too.”

“Language,” Mandy bit out tightly, slinking around the car to stay hidden as the figure in black and silver moved confidently through the street.

“Good man,” Steve replied to his son, not missing a beat before relaying the order to set up snipers and get the other teams mobilized. “You’ve got a good tactical eye, James.”

“Like Mom,” he muttered, dropping and crawling into the street. “And Mandy’s just as pigheaded as you both,” he muttered, cursing as he watched his sister stand up and away from the shelter of the overturned car, taking aim at the Winter Soldier. “Get back under cover, Mandy!”

“I’ve got him,” she whispered, taking aim.

Time stood still as James watched her fire. They were both strong and fast, just like their father, but they also both knew the truth: the man in front of them was just as strong, just as fast, and had decades of training and experience over them.

And he was Mandy’s biological father.

It made her stupid. James knew it made her stupid. She took risks she never would have on any other op when the Winter Soldier was involved, she did things she’d never sanction any other agent doing, all in the name of stopping him, all in the name of keeping the man who sired her from hurting another person.

It was almost as if she felt like it was a penance for a crime she never committed. He knew the knowledge of where she was found haunted her in ways she never shared with anyone but him. It was a secret she thought she’d kept tightly hidden, especially from her parents.

She fired, and it bounced off his left arm.

The Winter Soldier froze.

She fired again.

He shuddered as it hit him in the shoulder. He turned.

James would never forget the look of his eyes. He would never forget the way they narrowed, the dark black of the make-up around his eyes to cut down on the glare smudged to the side of his face, the way he could feel the man bare his teeth even though the bottom half of his face was covered with a mask.

James would never forget the seconds he thought he’d watch his own sister die as the Soldier brought up his gun.

And then a shield that he knew far too well flew in, knocking the gun to the ground.

It was a flurry after that.

James had seen his father in action, he’d seen him in training, but rarely, if ever, did Steve take point on missions. In theory, James knew he was impressive.

He’d never seen him fight like this.

It was like a well rehearsed ballet. Every punch was deflected, every kick avoided. His father and the Winter Soldier moved like one being, like they could anticipate how the other was thinking or like it had been pre-choreographed. When the soldier pulled out a knife, Steve dodged and avoided it, blocking with forearms and making the Soldier flip and drop it in a complicated series of moves that left James impressed and frightened.

It was as if the Soldier had finally met his match, and he wasn't just deadly now, he was maniacal. James had heard stories, had seen him just barrel through men. This? This was entrancing.

And then it was worrying, because when Mandy tossed their Dad his shield, the Soldier caught it in one hand instead, knowing exactly how to catch it, exactly how much reverb he had in the movement, and exactly how to wield it back to Steve that had him backing up and on his heels.

The shield didn’t behave like normal metal did, it wasn’t easy to catch and move through space. James had taken months to learn how to catch and throw it under his father, and he still struggled. The Winter Soldier shouldn’t have been able to just master it like he had.

“Dad…” James called out, nervous. Scared.

For the first time, he didn’t think they actually had a chance.

Steve’s voice rang out clear in his ear, even as he never stopped fighting, pinned against a truck. “Get your sister and go!”

”I am not leaving!” Mandy called out, rushing forward. James jumped to his feet, running after her and wrapping his arms around her just before she made it to the middle of the intersection where Steve was wrestling with the Soldier for control of his shield. “I can help!” She turned, gritting her teeth at her brother. “We can both help!”

James took a slow breath and then let go of her, stepping back and pulling his knife from his boot. He didn’t say anything, knowing it would be picked up by far too many people on comms, but just nodded.

Without having to say when, they both moved forward. Mandy went low, James high, and they tackled the Soldier, giving their father enough time to get his shield on his arm and take a breath.

If he was impressive one on one, the Winter Soldier was downright deadly as he took on all three of them. The youngest, James was the most inexperienced in the field, but he made up for it with his strength and speed and tactical understanding. None of that stopped the Soldier from picking him up by the neck and tossing him through the window of a bank across the street.

Mandy was fast, though, and she swept his feet out from under him as he tried to turn back. They should have had him.

They should have had him.

But Steve and Mandy couldn’t help but look towards where James had been tossed to see if he was okay. The second it took them to look was enough for the Soldier to stand and rush Mandy, his metal hand wrapping around her neck and lifting her from her feet.

Steve’s yell reverberated through the street at he rushed him, jumping on his back and wrapping his arms around the soldier’s neck, his eyes panicked as he looked at Mandy, her hands clawing at the metal one that held her feet off the ground, that was cutting off her breathing.

And then, it was like the world stopped.

The soldier loosened his grip just a little, and tipped his head, eyes blinking, not because of Steve, but because recognition was dawning in his eyes.

It was just enough movement that it changed Steve’s grip, and the mask on the Soldier’s face tumbled to the ground.

The Soldier set her down, a name croaking from his lips as she crumbled at his feet. “Rebecca?”

Steve jumped from his back as if he’d been burned. It was a voice he heard in his dreams and his worst nightmares. Suddenly, it all clicked into place: how he knew how to use the shield, how they were so well matched… and yet, it filled him with dread and gave him more questions than answers.

He stumbled between the Soldier and his daughter, jaw slack. “Bucky?”

The Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes, looked up at Steve, sneering. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

And then they were grappling again, fighting hand to hand as Steve pushed him farther and father away from Mandy, farther and farther away from his daughter… their daughter… even though he was more confused than he’d ever been.

They fumbled, tripping back over the curb, and in an instant Bucky had a gun in his hand, holding Steve at bay.

“Bucky…”

He stepped back slowly, bringing his metal hand up to steady his shooting hand.

“Dad!” James called, and tossed Steve’s shield to him. He ducked behind it just as the Soldier fired off a round of shots, the sound of them bouncing off the vibranium deafening.

When he looked up, the Winter Soldier was gone.

James is crouched by Mandy, shielding her from the bullets that have stopped.

SHIELD vans were slowly pulling up.

But he’s gone.

Bucky was gone.

Steve slid down by his daughter, lifting her to sitting and looking over her neck, the angry bruises already forming. “You okay?” He patted down over her head and shoulders, looking for other injuries. “You hurt anywhere else?” He turned, shouting over his shoulder, “Get the medic!”

”Fine,” she croaked out, clearing her throat. “I’ll be fine.” Mandy pushed away from him and swiped angrily at the tears that had gathered in her eyes more from pain and lack of oxygen than for any real emotion, though she’s more than overwhelmed. “We almost had him.”

”Don’t care about that, just care about you,” He responded, breathless, pulling her back into a hug. He turned his head, looking over at his son. “How about you?” He reaches out a hand, squeezing his son’s shoulder, running his fingers over his cheek where the glass he went through left tiny cuts. “Need the medic?”

”Nah,” James shook his head, his own hand laying on Mandy’s back, trying to help her calm her breathing. “I’ve had worse.”

“You’re mother’s gonna kill me,” Steve muttered, helping Mandy stand as the SHIELD medic ran to meet them.

“Damn right I am,” Peggy’s voice crackled in his ear. “Not a damn instruction was followed by any of you.”

Mandy sat heavily on the curb, trying to wave away the medic even as Steve insisted he check her out. ”We almost-“

“Don’t say another word, young lady,” Peggy’s voice admonished. “I’m letting Fury clean this mess up before I say something I’ll regret.”

Steve got his way, and Mandy let the medic start checking her over. “We’ll be back as soon as the medic clears Mandy, Peg.”

“Damn well better be,” she muttered before she could be heard handing the comm over to Fury.

Steve pulled the earpiece out and tucked it in his pocket, his children followed suit, waiting for the medic to give Mandy a clean bill.

“Dad?” James finally asked quietly.

“Yeah, bud?” He rubbed his face, watching the streets as SHIELD’s clean up team got to work.

James tried to keep his voice even, non-accusatory. “You knew him.”

”I knew him,” Steve affirmed. He felt his heart sink again now that he wasn’t running on adrenaline anymore. He shook his head. “I used to know him.”

James sighed, turning away. “So you gonna tell me who Bucky was?”

”Better question,” Mandy started, standing, her voice still rough as the medic stepped away, “is who is Rebecca.” She sniffed, turning and heading away from the destruction, her father and brother falling in step with her. “He saw my face and he stopped dead.”

“The Winter Soldier…” Steve took a deep breath and sighed, “His name was Bucky Barnes. Rebecca was his sister.”

“So she would be my aunt, since he’s my father,” Mandy whispered, looking at her boots. “I guess I look like her.

“You do.” Steve stopped moving, waiting until he could look at both his children. “He was my best friend, and I thought he died on a mission that went bad.” He reached out a hand and set it on James’ shoulder. “He’s who you’re named after.”

“He was a commando?” His son asked, moving again to get them towards a transport that would take them back to base.

“He was the commando. He was the closest thing I had to a brother. Hell, he was my family.” Steve stopped, turning to where his friend, now foe, had disappeared. “And now, we gotta find a way to help him.”

”Help him?” Mandy asked, turning her Dad around. “You can’t be serious.”

Steve looked around, content they were far enough away from anyone else that they wouldn’t overhear. “That man? He’s not the Bucky I knew. The Bucky I knew would never have done any of the things ascribed to him.” He dropped his voice and leaned down to Mandy. “You were worried about the kind of person you came from, about the kind of person Hydra would use to make you. I can tell you, Mandy, there is no better man. Bucky… he was…” Steve shook his head, at a loss for words. “If it were reversed, he wouldn’t stop until he got me out, and I can’t do any less.”

“We,” James corrected him. “We can’t do any less. Not for family.”

Steve nodded, and they moved forward again in quiet lock step, filing into the back of a van.

It was a quiet ride until just before they made it back to headquarters when Mandy popped her head up. “We still have to tell Mom.”

“Mom knew Bucky, too.” Steve let out a slow breath, his voice hovering between angry father and disappointed superior officer. “But I’m sure we’ll only talk about that after we talk about how you disobeyed orders, Mandy.”

She sighed, her voice less ragged than it was. “She’s gonna be so mad. She’s going to court-martial me.”

“Nah,” James smiled as they stopped, “Can’t get court martialed in SHIELD.” He helped her down from the van. “They’ll just throw you in a pit in Alamogordo.”

“Stop teasing your sister,” Steve tossed out as he jumped down and walked past them, the kids falling into step behind him. “Your mother’s wrath is much worse than anything they could throw at you in Alamogordo.” He paused, seeing Peggy waiting for them just inside the doors, hands on hips, jaw tight with fury but eyes full of anxiety. “Ready?”

“For mom’s wrath?” James asked, rolling his shoulders back. “No. But we don’t have a choice, do we?”

She didn’t yell, didn’t even move from where she stood when they came in, she just pointed to the elevator. “Office, now!” She called out in a clipped voice.

Steve could feel the fear pouring off of her, the adrenaline and the anger mingling to clog her throat with emotion. Once they were in the elevator, he reached out, twining his fingers with hers.

She turned and looked at him, unshed tears shining in her eyes. He just squeezed her hand.

Whatever came next, they were going to deal with it together.

Just like they always did.

Like a family.

#steggy fic #3p's fic #steggyweek24 #nobody's baby #Winter soldier makes an appearance #SO MANY OF YOU WERE RIGHT #This has been planned for SO LONG

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thgfanfictionlibrary · 10 months ago

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hiii i was wondering if you knew of any everlark fics based on the show "supernatural"? i saw one in a everlarkficquestions masterlist but i was wondering if you knew of anymore, tysm!!!!!!

Hello Anon!

Unfortunately I only found one which may be the same as the one from everlarkfic questions.

Too Precious for this World-Wildharp (ao3) Summary: Katniss and Gale are siblings left to carry on their father’s legacy of hunting supernatural beings and protecting humanity from dangers unbeknownst to the general population. When Katniss is cursed there is only one man who can save her, Peeta Mellark, a kind, virginal baker who wants nothing to do with the beautiful hunter. A Supernatural/Hunger Games crossover

There are quite a few crossovers where the characters from supernatural are in the THG universe but apparently only one where Katniss and Peeta are in the Supernatural universe.

I'm sorry that I couldn't find any others!

As always, if you have any questions, comments, or suggestions, please feel free to shoot me an ask!

#supernaturalxTHG crossover #crossover!fics #thg fanfiction #everlark fanfiction #thg #everlark

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mysticvampyresgrove · 1 month ago

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𝐵𝓁𝑜𝑜𝒹𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈 & 𝐵𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓉𝓈: 𝒜 𝒮𝓊𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓃𝒶𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒶𝓁 𝐿𝑒𝑔𝒶𝒸𝓎 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝓃𝑔𝑒

Please use #BloodlinesLegacy or #BeastChallenge so I can check it out! or you can just tag me on YouTube @Terriplaysgames or on TikTok @Terriplayssims4

Hello! Here is the 10-generation sims 4 legacy challenge that includes my original characters. Inspired by the chaos, Trauma, and power of supernatural bloodlines. Vampires, Werewolves, Hybrids, Humans and even a Grimm! There is no colour theme. Just drama, family, power and the urge to fight fate. If you wanted your sim to go full supernatural soap opera, This is for you 🐺🩸💔

Here are the required Packs:

The Sims 4: Werewolves

The Sims 4: Vampires

The Sims 4: Realm of magic (for crossover Stories)

University (For Alisa's Gen)

Parenthood (for deeper family Storytelling)

Paranormal

Mods I recommend:

MC Command Center: https://deaderpool-mccc.com/downloads.html

Meaningful Stories: https://roburky.itch.io/sims4-meaningful-stories

more traits in CAS: https://www.curseforge.com/sims4/mods/more-traits-in-cas/files/6091837

Relationship and Pregnancy OverHaul: https://www.patreon.com/posts/mod-relationship-75983577 https://modthesims.info/d/643617/occult-hybrid-unlocker-amp-stabilizer.html

UI Cheats: https://www.patreon.com/posts/ui-cheats-v1-48-26240068

Zero's Vampire and Tweaks & Autonomy fixes: https://modthesims.info/d/609464/airianna-s-vampire-tweaks.html

Now here is the start off the challenge:

Gen 1: Rian Mikaelson

Creature: Werewolf

Storyline: You were never meant to lead, but your pack fell apart, you had no choice. Haunted by rage and past trauma, your greatest battle is against yourself. you're raising your kids to do better but fear passing on your darkness.

Traits: Hot-Headed, Family-Oriented, Overachiever (For people who can't use mods: Hot-Headed, Family-Oriented, Active) Aspiration: Lone Wolf Career: Writer

Here are the goals:

Win 3+ Brawls

Update your wolf den (maybe do a rags to riches to this)

Raise 2 kids but pick one for the next gen

Master Writer career

Master fitness, Wellness and Writing

Gen 2: Alya Mikaelson

Creature: Werewolf

Storyline: You're wild and free, the heart of the forest. but you are tired of carrying your father's shadow. You seek peace, a pack of your own and maybe even a love your family would never approve of. your path is about healing. Not Dominance

Traits: Sassy, Loyal, outgoing (For people who can't use mods: Loyal, Adventurous, Self-Assured) Aspiration: Super Parent (Parenthood) Career: Teacher

Here are the goals:

Fall for a non-occult

Form your own pack

Have 1 child

Master Teacher career

Master Fitness, Logic, Research and debate

Gen 3: Izzy Pierce-Mikaelson

Creature: Vampire

Storyline: You didn't ask to be turned, but you're using your powers for good. you fight for the voiceless, always drink from blood bags and keep your humanity alive through kindness. You'll fall in love with a human but never turn them.

Traits: Shy, Bookworm, Protective (For people who can't use mods: Bookworm, Good, Creative) Aspiration: Mater Vampire Career: Painter

Here are the goals:

Only drink plasma packs/fruit

Host 5 charity Events

Reach Master Vampire Rank

Master Painting career

Master Vampire Lore, Charisma and Pipe Organ

Gen 4: Bailey Casey-Mikaelson

Creature: Vampire

Storyline: You fell in love with an evil sim and turned him good.

Traits: Sweet, Jealous, Ambitious (For people who can't use mods: Bookworm Romantic, Jealous, Ambitious) Aspiration: Good Vampire Career: Doctor

Here are the goals:

Keep a diary/Journal

Mentor someone or train a fledgling vampire

Get married once you turn your lover good

Master Doctor career

Master Vampire Lore, Mischief, Wellness

Gen 5: Leah Winchester

Creature: Human then Vampire

Storyline: You were raised to fight monsters. you never expected to become one after falling in love with one.

Traits: Brave, Reckless, Loner (For people who can't use mods: Brave, Loner, Self-Assured) Aspiration: Vampire Family Career: Paranormal investigator

Here are the goals:

Turn mid-Generation (Young Adult -> Adult)

build an underground vampire HQ

defeat 5 "evil" sims

Master Paranormal investigator career (if you can)

Master Logic, Handiness and Vampire Lore

Gen 6: Lydia Winchester

Creature: Hybrid (need the mod now)

Storyline: You are everything your ancestors feared: a born hybrid, Charismatic and powerful. you thrive in fame, romance and control. but what happens when the world can't handle you?

Traits: Sassy, Confident, Romantic (For people who can't use mods: Outgoing, Confident, Romantic ) Aspiration: Renaissance Sim Career: Actor or Tech Guru

Here are the goals:

win 5 fights (both vamps and wolves)

have 2 hybrid kids

become a global superstar

Master Actor or Tech Guru or a job of your choosing career

Master Acting, Fitness, Programming

Gen 7: Ri Mikaelson

Creature: Werewolf

Storyline: Overshadowed by your sister, haunted by your temper… you escape into nature. You’re not the beast people say you are… but if they keep pushing, maybe you’ll become it.

Traits: Angry, Clumsy, Protective (For people who can't use mods: Hot-Headed, Clumsy, Loyal) Aspiration: Master Chef Career: Food career

Here are the goals:

Fall in love with a doctor sim

Have 1 child

Master the food career

Master Cooking, Handiness, Fitness and Baking

Gen 8: Alisa Gilbert

Creature: Human

Storyline: You were born without fangs or claws but you see the truth. A Grimm in a world of monsters, you choose to fight through knowledge, not power. You marry a supernatural and protect them instead.

Traits: Genius, Brave, Perfectionist (For people who can't use mods: Genius, Perfectionist, Brave) Aspiration: Academic Career: Detective

Here are the goals:

Graduate with distinguished Degree

Write and publish a book on vampires and Werewolves

Never become an occult (if you are an occult, try and take a cure for it)

Master Detective career

Master Logic, Research and Debate, Vampire Lore

Gen 9: Alisson Baker

Creature: Human

Storyline: You're an evil sim that's human, you fall in love with another evil sim.

Traits: Evil, Clumsy, Neat Aspiration: Villainous Valentine Career: Criminal

Here are the goals:

Raise 3 kind children

Master the Criminal career

Master Charisma, Cooking and Parenting

Gen 10: Lillth Bennett-Winchester

Creature: Vampire

Storyline: You were raised up with an evil family though your siblings are kind too. Traits: Romantic, Cheerful, Neat (For people who can't use mods: Good, Romantic, Ambitious) Aspiration: Friends of the world Career: Scientist

Here are the goals:

have 1 failed romances and 1 lasting soulmate

GO TO SPACE

Master the Scientist career

Master Writing, Rocket Science, Wellness

OPTIONAL RULES:

Aging: ON (Normal or Long)

Money Cheats: Only for storytelling/lore

Traits: Randomize OR align with story goals

Occults: Must be earned (no cheats to turn)

#sims 4 legacy #sims 4 legacy challenge #sims 4 gameplay #the sims community #ts4 simblr #sims 4 #sims 4 cc #sims community #simblr #the sims #my sims #BloodlinesLegacy #BeastChallenge

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marvelstars · 1 year ago

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Hello! Hope this ask doesn't bother you!

I'm getting more into X-Men since 97'! I've been enjoying your posts greatly! Was wondering if you have any recommendations of comics (especially about Magneto? Or his kids)? But any X-Men comic that you enjoy I'll appreciate!!

Many thanks <3

-- @unfortunately-obsessed

Here are some comics you may check out

Magneto # 0 by Claremont and John Bolton

Magneto Testament by Greg Pak

Age of Apocalypse crossover

X-men Legacy if you enjoy Mike Carey and Rogue and Magneto relationship.

X-men #1(1991) Last Claremont & Jim Lee issue of his first run with Magneto.

House of M by Bendis and Coipel has a lot of Magneto and family drama.

X-men and Magneto resurrection by Al Ewing are awesome.

Pietro

I enjoyed a lot his time on Avengers Academy and All New X-factor and recently Uncanny Avengers by Duggan.

Wanda

Scarlet Witch Solo series vol.1 and vol.2

Avengers children´s crusade tell the story of her getting her children back and she comes back to the MU after House of M.

Lorna:

All New X-factor and the recent X-men by Duggan are good picks.

Hope you enjoy your reading.

#Comic Recs #Magnet family #Magneto #Pietro Maximoff #Wanda Maximoff #Lorna Dane

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popculturebuffet · 1 year ago

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More than Meets the Eye Retrospective: Dark Cybertron Part 1

Hello all you happy autobots and welcome back to my long look at Transformers More Than Meets The Eye. When we last left I looked at the sister comic, Robots in Disguise.

But a necessary one for Today's review: Dark Cybertron, a crossover between both books.

Dark Cybertron is the cumilation of a plot that had been slowly building in the background of Robots in Disguise while Bumblebee dithered, Prowl tried to install a dictatorship long before he got a bug in his brain telling him to keep going with that, and Starscream was awesome. Shockwave has been up to SOMETHING over the issues, working with his mentor Jhiaxus.

Chasing Jhiaxus in the best part of RiD was Optimus Prime, redubbing himself Orion Pax out of disgust with the legacy of the primes, alongside his friends Hardhead, Wheelie and Garnak, who soon found themselves chasing Jhiaxus. Mr J eventually lured them to a dead planet, where he and Waspinator, yes the boy himself, ignited a titan and made tracks for cybertron while leaving our heroes to their deaths as Shockwave held back Soundwave and his decepticons , igniting his final plan.

It's here that mystery plan comes to fruition as the lost lighters split up gang to help save the unvierse, while Bumblebee and his Cavlcade of Fuckups, and also Arcee try to stop the apocalypse and Starscream gets a new paint job as he tries to hold on for dear life to his throne with a big ole event.

This crossover's notable for a few reasons: it's the first proper event comic for the transfomers: While there had been previous event style arcs with All Hail Megatron and Chaos and crossovers with the IDW wide Infestation and the marvel crossover Transformers/New Avengers, which also means the new avengers and likely all of marvel exisit in this unvierse.

But this is the first crossover between books within the line, something that would become a tradition as IDW liked money and Hasbro liked free advertising for whatever they were doing in the toys at the time, either threading in designs from their current lines or in the case of combiner wars and titans return, just straight up having IDW model their events to match the toyline. . This lead to the ambitious and failed Hasbro Universe with Revolution, and the universe even ends on one with Unicron.

Ironically though.. this is the ONLY one to loop in more than meets the eye. And thank Primus for that. Look i'm not anti-event comic, sometimes an event can be a total banger. For a recent example see Marvel's Judgement Day. But the big two tend to do events and crossovers EVERY damn year, not giving books a chance to rest or status quos to breathe for a bit. So having More than Meets the Eye sit that shit out is a fucking relief.

It's also from a practical standpoint as this crossover shows both creative teams had trouble meshing the two together: the narrative splits into four plot threads, one in the dead universe with Optimus, Rodimus and CO, one with the rest of the lost light , one with the cavlcade of fuckups and one with god emperor starscream. the latter two evnetually intersect and the two casts DO interact towards the end of the crossover.. but in the six issues i'm covering today the only ones to interact with the lost lighters are Starscream in a brief video call and Optimus in one of the main plots. It's clear that while the two writers liked each other.. they may not of known entirely how to make the two casts function together, and thus kept them to their corners.

The result isn't a bad story but a fractured one. I will say upfront I won't be able to judge the story as a whole till next time, but I needed to do it in two parts as it's a big boy and there's a lot to go over. So join me under the cut as darkness falls over cybertron, titans rise, and rodimus gets a new toy so stupid it will bite him in the ass for the rest of the comic. IT's Dark Cybertron and it's under the cut.

We open with Nova Prime's crew. Nova Prime was a prime who was seen as a great one.. but in reality was an supremacist piece of scrap who wanted to conquer all other forms of life. He will not be missed. Among him are our boy Cyclonus and Jhiaxus, who tells Shockwave to FINISH MY WORK.

In the present.. Shockwave almost has, having seeded ores aroudn the galaxy and experimenting on a titan, both the same one that declared Starscream chosen one and then vanished.. and that Waspinator just brought home. It starts screaming in terror and bleeding out it's eyes

Elsewhere on Cybertron, Starscream woke up from a nap to find a few hours ago the sun rose.. and hasn't gone down. He also has a new all red everything paintjob, a familiar one

As i've been told and found out.. this is Starscream's look from Transformers Armada, which I did watch when it was coming out but entirely forgot this is what Starscream looked like because my memory is quicksand and only few things escape it like X-men trivia.

It's.. not my faviorite. It's almost ENTIRELY red and whlie it does look better in later shots, it's just not as fun to look at as his classic look and while he'll keep this look for the windblade mini series, i'ts telling the artists reverted to his old standby as soon as they could. The Armada look isn't bad and looking at stills from teh anime it loks GREAT there.. but it's a bit too one note for the page, at least these pages.

Starscream decides to call the autobots for help.. not the ones he exiled, an I told you so from prowl is death in it's purest form, no OUR autobots.

For now though we cut back to Optimus. Since we last left him he and his crew are trying to escape.. and luckily run into some old friends

I love this so much. Unsuprisingly Swerve made it his ring tone. Naturally Rodimus dove in anyway to save his old friend/boss/dad.

Rodimus shows his dad around, which really feels like a teenager accidently exposing his dad to all the stuff his dumbass friends do while trying to be respectible. The wind's taken out of his sails by Ultra Magnus who asks if Optimus is taking command with all the tact and grace he's known for.

Optimus isn't, he's only here for the guest spot , he's got his own leading roll to play in the other books, but he is happy to get the tour. .until Starscream calls. Screamer of course can't help but passively agressively brag about how he was elected in by popular demand after bumblbee fucked up hard

Then asks Cyclonus for help since he knows the dead universe better than anyone. The Dead Universe is a parasite, a universe that should fucntion right but is instead both sentient and EVILLLL. And it's hungies.

Back on Cybertron, Team Fuckup is starring in horror and the Dinobots want to punch the fuck out of the sun. Bumblbee tells them to wait for it... and granted he's telling them not to punch a bright light on the horizon, something even prowl can tell is stupid which tells you something, but honestly after the last two years worth of comics, the bar for Bumlebee's competence is low.

He ends up being right as the necrotitan lands. Meanwhile Shockwave goes into a whole rant about hwo this is all ineveitible that has a bunch of vauge images and two optimus primes about ot throw hands for some reason. none of this is relevant to the rest of the crossover, it's a clear misdirect and it sure does exist. The real point is who he's talking to: Nova Prime and Galvatron, who somehow returned. Also Galvatron and Megatron are two seperate people in this continuity, happens a lot, moving on.

Onto chapter 2 and Team Fuckup's strategy is now suns out guns out.. though Bumblebee's redemption arc continues as when the Autobots want to punch the giant, Bumlebee tells them no and tells them to either get in line or fuck righ toff, which actually gets them to listen. Seems Bee got a spine with his new form and I like it. After 20 some issues of him listening to whoever yelled the loudest while ignoring the people he's supposed to be serving, this is nice. It's clear field command fits him better.

He does have a bit of an exestial crisis wondering if this is the titan that choose starscream and I THINk it is. I'm not sure. But either way it's here and i'ts big.

Back with Team Rodimus, Brainstorm tells Optimus the dead unvierse is alive and that's why going into the dead universe is tricky: it'll kill anything it senses shouldn't be there. Luckily he has a plan.. and a weird creepy parsite in a jar. It's also so fun seeing the straightlaced optimus interact with the lost lighters. So dang good seeing Chromedome resisit the urge to condescend to Optimus.

Back with Starscream he's doing what any sensible cybertronian would do in this situation: GET HIS GUN. Or a lot of them hidden in a closet Rattrap is telling him to come out of. Please everyone knows Starscream as pansexual as fuck. Rattrap urges caution.. which is like saying it's tuesday but still when Starscream is whiffing it you know it's .. also tuesday but also probably an issue.

Back on the lost light we get a great scene as Rodimus, Magnus and Optimus hit swerves. Magnus is curious if they should be having command discussions in a bar but Rodimus for once isn't snippy, which tells us deep shit is a comin: he simply wants to be by his men.. granted he regrets that when he finds Swerve taking photos but for once Swerve is also not as flip: it's three of the greatest autobots of all time, on the preciipce of SOMETHING happening, something they call feel.. that shared feeling of dread. Something's coming and it ain't good.

The trio get a text from brainstorm: He's ready. This being brainstorm the most he has is a palm thing that keeps the dead universe from killing you using the venom of a monster from there he keeps in a jar. Granted this is only because it's short notice.

So our heroes come up with a plan: split up. Rodimus, Optimus, Hardhead and Cyclonus (Since he has experince) will go into the dead universe to plug whatever stygian hole is leaking. Wheelie and Garnak will stay by in Optimus' ship to pick them up after. Meanwhile the Lost LIght will head after Jhiaxus. Magnus is doubtful he can lead.. but Rodimus perks him up, assuring him he can do this: he may of been thorugh a lot.. but this is his comfort zone: "You're chasing a war criminal and i'm leaping into the unknown"

Back on cybertron Starscream talks with Scoops, a cybertronian ratrap framed for him and who belivies in screamer's prophecy. And as it turns out Screamer REALLY shoudl've payed attention to what that prophecy was or asked or.. anything other than accept it as face value as it turns out he's pegged as a "false leader" one who will bring on the coming darkness... "The stars shall scream and the symbol of the uncreator shall become clear" and said symbol is.. not encouraging to screamer or us

Anyways back to Shockwave: he's talking to Nova, and reveals the space bridge in the Necrotitan isn't working.. but luckily he has a backup plan: megatron.

We end the issue with two more cut tos: in the dead unvierse, Team Rodtimus fight some parasites hoping to snack on them since the signal their using reads "FOOD' to them and while they get away from them fine.. someone else notices. more on him soon. Back with Team Fuckup, the Calvary arrives: SOUNDWAVE BABY.

Part 3 begins with Starscream, whose assuring his adoring public.. only for a meteor to apparnetly land near the titan.

Speaking of shooting the Autobots wage a war to destroy the not so evil forces of Soundwave, only for the metor thing ot distract them too.

Before our next plot point let's talk about this series pacing as you might of noticed the last paragraph or two was just "this plot point, now this". And that's because the series likes to jump around, jump around, get up get up and get down. It has FOUR plots it's juggling and rarely do the issues just.. focus on one or two, especially early on. So each issue is bouncing around several subplots often for just two pages at a time. I don't mind a big story having to move around, but you have to let things settle for a minute. Let a plot point marinate a bit. I shouldn't feel rushed in a 12 issue crossover. 12 issues is a LOT for a story, again why this is a two parter. We do get some good character stuff like Bee growing a spine, a lot of it feels like a reahash. For instance did we need the starscrema going to get his gun scene? no we coudl've had rattrap suggest talking to scoops earlier. None of this is bad and some of the character stuff is necessary: Rodimus showing optimus around both moves the plot along with starscream's call and is objectively hilaroius. But a lot of it feels like thumb twiddling to get to the next plot point. We probably coudl've compacted most of team fuckups scenes into half an issue, if that. It feels like their cutting to each plot to make it seem important instead of carring how a story should progress. It feels like the writers took turns with scenes instead of truly colaberating on the crossover an das a result we just jump jump jump.

So we jump! Jump for the plot to our next point: the lost light where their being pushed off course... turns out Metroplex's thumb what got embedded in the ship after the annual is alive again.. and Getaway knows why: Tyrest, for all his madness, once said you can find a titan with a titan.. and figures Metroplex is trying to reunite with itself.

At the Necrotitan, Team Fuckup sadly gets back to buisness as usual.. arguing with each other. Fortuantely this time, Bumblebee.. is still a compitent leader. He's still on "wait for it" mode.. because they really CAN'T do anything and attacking a giant statue is a death warrant, and he's taken Team Soundwave's help as while they aren't on great terms, they have the same goal: Stop Shockwave. Prowl takes this with the grace, dignity and cool he's known for

God it's good to hear ANYONE, especially Bumblebee, tell Prowl to "shut up for once". And Bee's not wrong. While wait and hope things go well was a TERRIBLE strategy when Bee was running the planet and all it did was get starscream on the throne and all of them exiled, in this case.. their facing a giant cybertronian with weird glowing eyes who they can't really understand. As we'll learn shortly titans function SORT'VE like regular transformers, but are so giant, massive and ancient their hard to parse. A small band of semi-reformed fuckups, an asshole, and a bunch of casette tapes and their player/dad isn't REMOTELY enough to stop that thing and interacting with it might just piss it off.

And sure enough Starscream seemingly prooves that hypothesis as he tries to manipulate it by talking to it.. only for it to explode into 2 or 3 pages of purple light. And This.. I like> it lets the MAGNITUDE of this thing's power play out, it's sudden, and it's shocking, and the effects afterwords aren't good as Arcee is out, the death wave having taken down their forces. once again Prowl won't shut the fuck up, wanting them to attack... and bee brushes him off essentially asking

He points out the death wave, his words not mine, is heading towards the city and despite Starscream's efforts.. it goes off. Shooting the titan would've eithe rdone nothing or set this off SOONER. There is NOTHING they can do and that.. works for me. As douchey as Prowl's being which, par for the course and all that aside, you understand his want to do SOMETHIGN.. but their in a situation where all they can do is just sit, wait, and HOPE they can figure something out. Shockwave said it best as Starscream tried talking to the titan. "We were all too late from the beginning". Unlike the bulk of the comic thus far sitting and reacting is all they have. .because they don't know the full scope of what's going on here. WE as an audience don't know what the hell the necrotitan just did: I only have it's name thanks to the wiki.

The wave not only hurt the living.. but wakes the dead as Metalhawk is back, on the bad guy's side now.. and pisssssseeed. Starscream to his credit reacts more with "Oh goody another cherry on the shit sundae that is today." but he still gets stabbed and Metalhawk is taking Megatron, bye. While Scoops goes to help people, the citzens surround starscream, his star falling.

On the lost light thei rleft with a decision: follow Jhiaxus.. or follow the severed thumb. Ratchet dosen't wanna as he feels their back in the "autobots mainstream" again... but Brainstorm disagrees.. and Perciptor shockingly AGREES: an ancient god has asked them to come find him, and given the end of days is going on back at home, an ancient god could REALLY come in handy right now. Magnus agrees and they head to a planet full of blood red water. At least I hope it's water. THey go deep into planet danzig, and find a horde of microbots ready to tear them apart. These are the amonites from the 25th issue adn they aren't happy.

Closing out the issue Shockwave prepares to make Megatron into a spacebridge. It's very impressive and not at all healthy.

Chapter 4 begins back with the lost light and with good art for those portions again! Yeah while i've glossed over it because this is a LOT of comics to go over and i'm already behind, the art for the lost light sections of parts 2 and 3 is once again by James Raiz, who has a very sketcyhy lifeldian style.. and not bein ga fan of those styles in general, I like it even lest on the quippy, weird lost light. It dosen't fit at all and the lack of expresssion dosen't really work with characters who thrive on expression even when they got no mouths.

It also works as we get bits like Brainstorm trying to hop onto Perciptor's exposition and Magnus announcing himself as "duly apointed enforcer of the tyrest accord" before remembering "Oh yeah the horrifying events of the last arc right. Just an autobot now". I'ts a bit funny but also very sad. All it gets is the super combinining amonites blowing up their window.

Back on cybertron the mob turns on starscream, with Scoops rightfully calling him out for dooming them and pointing out the black mark on him as a sign.. whne really he just tried to schmooze an elder god of a robot, but semantics. poitn is time is running out for our faviorite boy.

Back on planet Danzig, Skids remembers the amonites and wonders why their pissed.. forgetting they you know, ended their forever war and one of them tried to kill thunderclash, something the lost light prevented. Take your pick.

With the Lost Light too big a target the crew decides to split up: they have a few water vechiles and half of the aquabots, so they should be fine, but they still need more... so Magnus gets an idea: they'll take the rodpod. Like the audience Getaway wonders "what the fuck is that" before we gaze on it in all ti's glory.. or as glorious as it is as for some reason we're suddenly back to raiz art.

Yes the rodpod, which Magnus was worried about as naturally Rodimus loves this stupid fucking thing as mucha s I do. But Skids is banking on Rodimus' short attention span.

The important thing here, besides this very hilariously stupid thing happened in a major crossover and that's awesome, is Getaway's reaction. His disguist, his sheer confusion.. for now it just comes off as most people's reaction to this ego piece who aren't used to Rodimus shit by now. But true to roberts.. this bit is one of the MAIN REASONS why we still had to cover this crossover. It's not the only one but this one small character moment.. ends up changing the entire course of this entire comic and our heroes lives forever. Yes the RODPOD is so rediculous and breaks a man's brain so bad, it has deep lasting conseqeunces that will last to the finale of this comic. I love that more than words.

Our heroes take the rodpod out for a spin, and while Rung kills a guy, and it's awesome, our heroes blow up a giant super combined amonite as they apparently have no upper limit but no upper limit dosen't mean "can't blow up real good"

Back to the dead Universe where Optimus deals with some squabbling from the kids

See this.. really shows the contrast between the two styles: the bickering over with Team Fuckup is annoying at times, bette rin this series but still annoying. The banter between the lost light on the other hand feels both more genuine and funnier. And I get the quippy style isn't for everyone: The MCU has gotten some fatigue fo rthat.. but I like a bit of back and forth. it shoudln't be the whole thing, and MTMTE succeeds largley because the characters are deeply made as well as deeply hilaroius, but a little humor helps. It breaks up the dark exesntial terror of everything to occasoinally have things like Rodimus' stupid headship he built for his own amusment or Optimus being about 5 mintues from turning this dead universe around so help me god.

Yet the questions he brings up .. arne't unfair as his next cuts deep: if Optimus had asked him to stay, would he have? And the answer.. is yes. Yet what cuts deeper.. is optimus response: He has the utmost faith in Rodimus and the progress he's made.. and it's clear form his silence he both regrets he's hardly made any and the choices he HAS made. He saved the world, something he rightfully rubbe din Hardhead's face as he was one of the many who nearly died thanks to Tyrest's attmepted genocide, but it's clear the thigns he's done weigh on rodimus: Would staying have helped? Could he have made a bette cybertron?

And the hard answer is.... no. Him staying wouldn't of been a good thing: he didn't want to be there, none of the bots who left really had ideas for a new better cybertron and MORE autobots wasn't going to fix a situation where autobots being there at all was causing tension with the nails. The sad truth is Bumblebee failed not because Rodimus left, but because he didn't have any plan other than "We want to retain power" , and with a throng of people crying for a better government and something NEW that was never going to happen.

The ironic thing is while Rodimus is on a quest for the old... his going out, exploring, doing daring due war or no war.. IS something new. He's letting his bots be who they are, having down time, movie nights, open bars. Sure he's also shoved some of them into very bad situations, the whole overlord mess was a waking nightmare and should never have happened and swerve shooting rung is ENTIRELY his fault. Rodimus, like Bee, often tries to lead like this is war time instead of a shaky peace. Yet despite also operating from that style.. he's casual enough and caring enough deep down that his bots.. get to have lives. Be who they want to be. He's not yelling tat them for daring to want to not shoot people or trying to create infastructure, he's just like "when I need you, do your fucking job bro". He may be embarassed around optimus.. but his letting his crew be people instead of weapons is better than Bee trying to lead like this is a war of attrition and not "what comes after" or Prowl acting like the war neve rended and a shiny new police state is better and not what caused the war in the first place.

OUr heroes soo seen Cyclonus is bleeding.. and soon have bigger issues as Nightbeat has arrived.

Back on cybertron Prowl sucks suprising no one wanting AGAIN to attack the giant robot that just wiped out hal fof them despite having no plan other than "shoot it REAL hard" Bee once again calls him out

He brused Prowl's ego enough to actually get him to pause.. well huff like a child but Prowl does have soundwave scan the city, which picks up something bad: Megatron SCREAMING as Shockwave both turn shim into a bridge and tries to get him to join. He naturallyr efuses ESPECAILLY since the primes are involved, so instead of joining in the new world order.. he gets prime coming out of his chest.

We end the issue on Team Magnus as they find Metroplex.. and end up in his eye socket.. which is hollowed out. Which is impressive but horrifying. And also not very healthy.

Onto part 5, and Shockwave is helping his pawns out of a screaming megatron's chest

When Team Fuckup arrives... Bumblebee has no idea what Shockwav'es doing but it end snow.

It dosen't though because Metalhawk is here, and Bumblbee's attempts to pull an "I know your in there somewhere fight", failed as Metalhawk is consumed by vengance and purple stuff. Skywarp attempts to just free megatron but his teleporting fails.

Prowl questions WHY Shockwave is helping nova.. not getting that maybe, just maybe the One Eyed Two Horned Grounded Purple Plotter whose already manuvered you all like chess pieces.. is using them as pawns for something much worse. Either way he gives Nova time to escape and his best buddy Waspinator time to bring him the staff Waspinator used to awaken the titan and summons it as if it were one of his x-men.. and has it crush them as if it were his juggernaught.

Back to the dead universe, let's talk about Nightbeat: Nightbeat is an autobot detective. During Nova Prime's previous plot, he had a thing installed in Nightbeat's head to turn the poor guy into his sleeper agent. Unfortunately for him he again picked a detective and one of the best at that so while he coudln't do much, Beat at least figured out he was being brainwashed and after shooting Hardhead had enough will to beg heardhead to shoot him.

So naturally his sudden return is a lot for everyone to process. As for how the shore he died on WAS connected to the dead unvierse, Optimus correctly guesses he got swept in with the tide. We get a sense of Nightbeat's personality too, as doing a simple look at Cyclonus tells him about Tailgate's near injury: he has facial scars, they were self inflicted, and they were patched recently. Cyclonus responds to this invasion of privacy mixed with genuine sympathy by trying to choke a bitch.

Back with team fuckup they TRY to count up their wounded.. but they hav ebigger issues: Megatron is craddling Ironhide crisis on infinite earth's style, before Galvatron rips him the fuck in half, starting his streak at one and declaring WHOS NEXT.. and somehow that's not their biggest issue as the titan is still active and shockwave is now in control.

Back in the dead universe, we find out how Nightbeat survivied: he was dead going through the portal and sense dead equals alive in this universe, he's spared. Sorta like how a healing spell usually hurts a zombie in an rpg just reversed.

At any rate he has some bad news for cyclonus: his hand generator thingy broke nad the Dead Universe has reclaimed him.. and he also has time to ominously say "your all home now" before triggering a giant force field around them. Turns out his death didn't undo his sleeper agent brain thing and Nova has come for them.

Before we move on to our final chapter for this batch, let's look at this cover. Which I rarely do for tim's sake but this one well

It looks like Nova Prime is playing with his dolls again.

At any rate we're back with what's left of Team Fuckup: bumblbee' smissing while what's left is running from the titan. The Dinobots plan to lead it away.. but it was already going this way they just were running away from it and are only pulling a prometheus because their genuinely not fast enough to get out the side, especially with some of them carrying wounded.

Back with Team Magnus, they notice Metroplex is decaying... partly due to age as getting spare parts is hard for titans and partly due to the weird blood water all around Planet Danzig. Theya lso find that Metro's BRAIN is missing: he's still alive but without that he's clearly dying. Getaway notices something in the water and calls Swerve for help but h'es a bit busy getting his groove on

They do however find a place to drydock. Back in the dead universe, Hardhead tells his friend he's going to rekill him while Optimus fakes a fight with rodimus to tell him there's a hidden barrier. While Hardhead tries to reach him Nova arrives.

Back on cybertron Starscream's no good horrible very bad day continues as he finds not only is his mark of shame spreading, but he's not the only one dying. After getting yelled at by his second tankor today he finds the titan heading right for him and the wounded

Back on Planet Danzig, our heroes find some arrows in the dry dock.. but it takes them around in circles.. then an Amonite blows up the ship, leaving them stranded.

We end this issue and the first half of dark cybertron with Nova Prime megomanically gloating... Hardhead escapes to shut him up.. only for it not to go well> Turns out PRime is not only crazy strong, but he CRUSHES Hardheads fist in his hands and then watches the poor guy desintgrate. He has plans for those left though: he's taking them to see a new friend he's made: bumlbee whose the shiny new space bridge.

So that's where we end it? Can Team Fuckup somehow save cybertron? Did any of team magnus survivie? Can Optimus shut this dude the fuck up. Find out in april folks! Thanks for reading

#transformers #comics #optimus prime #rodimus prime #ultra magnus #bumblebee #starscream #rattrap #waspinator #shockwave #swerve

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