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morganas-pendragons · 2 years

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The Walking Dead Series Finale: I CANNOT BELIEVE IT WAS THIS GOOD

Be warned, SPOILERS GALORE. I went into this episode with such low expectations because I have seen: Supernatural, Game of Thrones... and had no idea what to expect because I’m so used to series finales just being god awful.

THIS ONE WAS NOT. LET ME PREFACE THIS BY SAYING THIS COMPLETELY EXCEEDED ANYTHING I WAS EXPECTING.

S P O I L E R S.

Rick and Michonne -

Good God. I didn’t think I could cry harder but I did. I always had suspicions that Andy would come back in the finale to some extent - because it would make no sense for the main character to not appear - as well as Danai, and as soon as I heard his voice, I broke.

Because the montage that filters between Rick and Michonne and eventually leads into every single character of this show perfectly encompasses everything The Walking Dead has been since the pilot.

Getting to see that they both still have the hope of reuniting, that they haven’t given up on one another and that Rick still has intentions of getting home to his babies broke me.

Seeing Rick again after losing him in such a devastating way broke me. Andrew Lincoln could be on screen for ten minutes with no lines and can convey so many things just with his eyes.

Danai too. And the dedication Michonne has to Rick, to someone who she loves so deeply, reminds you that even in a world like that one... there’s goodness. There’s hope. There’s promise.

I wasn’t planning on engaging in the spin offs, but this one I will. I really just need Rick and Michonne to get home to their kids. Especially since Judith mentioned multiple times in this episode that she just wants her family to be together again.

The girl is a child. She wants what all children want: Her mother, her father, her family, her home.

And I think Rick and Michonne’s spin off is gonna fulfill that little girl’s dreams. I desperately need the Grimes babies to appear in it.

Negan and Maggie -

First of all, this one is for the people who still think Negan can’t/shouldn’t be redeemed, because I am going to just flat out tell you that you’re wrong. I mentioned in a post a couple of weeks ago when episode 23 aired that in the back half of s11 Negan’s intentions are all for the betterment of Annie and his unborn baby. You can tell he wants to be better. He has something to fight for now. Something and someone who can help him be a better man then the one we grew to know when he was introduced.

Maggie’s explanation of how she’ll always perceive him was pretty spot on for a widow who lost her husband in such a brutal way. Masterclass acting from JDM and Lauren, as per usual. She wants to move on and stop hurting. That’s expected. She doesn’t want her son to see that Negan's actions still have a grip on her all these years later. She doesn’t want Hershel to see her be defined by the anger she carries over losing Glenn.

“I’ll never love like that again.”

Yeah. I imagine she won’t. I really enjoyed his redemption arc and her coming to terms with the fact they’re both trying to do better, to move on, to be something better for their kids. To be a good example.

I really enjoyed Negan's arc in particular throughout the course of this season. I just felt it was so poignant. It really showed you who he became through the influences of the people he met after the war with the Saviors. Carl. Michonne. Maggie. Judith. Rick. All these people who were once his enemies ended up teaching him things that he carried years later and will probably carry forever. I just think it was so well executed.

The only quip I have about their spin off is that I really don’t understand how they set this up for them to eventually get to Manhanttan and what they’ll be doing there. Maggie mentioned that it’s time to talk about the future and basically venture out past where the show has taken place, but It’s pretty clear they’ll always be at odds even if they both do manage to move on.

Carol and Daryl -

Melissa McBride smiled so much with her teeth in this episode that it added ten years to my life span, made my pillow cold and made my skin clear. I will never get over how gorgeous Carol is when she’s happy. I was so thrilled that most of the scenes she appears in are with Daryl and Judith because even as someone who doesn’t want to adopt more kids, you just know that Judith is hers and Daryl’s because in some way, they’re going to want to honor Rick and Michonne by doing right by her and RJ.

I know alot of people are going to have mixed reviews about this one. With the two of them basically teetering on the edge of a rift for so long, most of the fans simply just wanted some type of reconciliation after all that happened in s10. Especially in the bonus episodes.

And you know what? We didn’t get it. We got something better.

There’s so much touching in this episode. I’ve mentioned before that Caryl uses touch to ground one another in difficult situations, and it’s everywhere in the finale.

The two I really want to touch on, however, are the last two scenes before Daryl rides off.

Carol and Daryl are seated outside of a lake in the Commonwealth to talk about what happens next, and she’s understandably upset this’ll be the first time they’ve been this far apart like... ever. I’m not counting when Daryl went looking for Rick because he was still in reach. She’s not known life without him for over a decade. It’s completely understandable that she’s hesitant to let him go.

And to be quite fair, I think Daryl is expecting this. But he affirms her with the reminder that it’s not permanent. That they will see each other again and she can count on him coming back to her.

Then the hug. Touch to ground each other during a difficult time. During a farewell. Not a goodbye.

The ugly sobs I made....

Then the scene on the bike. GOOD LORD. I did NOT go into this episode expecting anything conclusive for these two, but an I LOVE YOU was NOT in my bingo card for this episode.

Listen. I don’t care if it’s platonic or romantic. It’s HUGE. I cannot recall a SINGLE time this has been said b/t these two, much less said by one of them to ANOTHER unless it was Carol to Ezekiel, or to Henry and Sophia. I can’t remember off the top of my head. Daryl may have also said it to Judith... but that’s it. That’s IT.

An I LOVE YOU is HUGE for BOTH of them. It’s not one sided. It’s NEVER been one sided.

Am I devastated this left Carol alone? Yes. Am I thrilled she’s alive after spending years thinking she’d finish the show and die in the process? Yes. Am I going to watch the Daryl spin off? No.

While I believe this was a satisfactory ending - Daryl being on the bike makes sense, he’s literally been characterized as a lone wolf from the pilot and spent most of the first several seasons out in the open by himself because it’s where he thrives the most - to some extent, I really am just happy with what we were given. Even if it’s not the way I would’ve done it.

I have hopes for Carol’s story too. I think Melissa is going to come back. Don’t know how or when, but that’s what the fanfic is for.

Rosita -

Truth be told, I never really cared about her. I think Christian Serratos played her well and her development was flawless just like it was for Gabriel and Eugene, but there's one thing about her death I think really stands out from the others.

Most of the deaths on this show are really brutal. Dark. Depressing. Hopeless because you know nothing could’ve been done to change them or because you know if one thing had occurred differently, they’d have lived.

Rosita’s death is very final. She’s okay with it. At peace with it. No matter how much it may break her heart to be leaving behind Coco (WHO LOOKS SO MUCH LIKE HER AND SIDDIQ IT’S RIDICULOUS) she knows her daughter will be raised by someone who loves her and will remind her of where she came from.

The imagery was what got me. The room she dies in is white. All of it. White is pure. White is clean and safe and peaceful.

And it reminded me of this one quote in S3 where Maggie is leaning over Hershel’s body after he gets bit and loses his leg. It is, in my opinion, the most profound line in the whole show.

“If it’s time to go, it’s okay. Be peaceful.”

And I think that line perfectly encapsulates Rosita’s death.

Judith -

Lord. LORD. When Rick left the show, I had no intentions of continuing. I was done. Then they brought Cailey on as Judith and gave me back Carol and that’s why I stuck it through to the end.

Let me tell you... this girl owned this role. OWNED it. I keep forgetting she’s basically a teenager now and has been Judith Grimes for a couple of years, but she grew in this role.

And she aced it. Home run. She carried every single scene she was in and I spent the entire episode with my eyes glued to her because I was so paranoid they were gonna do Judith dirty.

And you know what? They really didn’t. This episode really shows you as the viewer that even though she’s a Grimes - and has been raised in a world that shows no mercy - she’s still a child. A child who just wants to see her mom and dad again.

That broke my heart. What she wants should be so easily attainable, but it’s not.

I think my favorite part of her character from S9 to the end is how much she embodies the people who brought her into the world and raised her. Rick and Michonne. Lori. Carl. All she wants to do is to honor them and it’s so endearing because she’s so young, and she still has so much more to learn but she’s facing that with what she’s learned already from people who aren’t even related to her by blood.

From people who loved her and people she lost and people she will carry on for even if they’re not there to witness it.

The Rest of the Cast -

This is a mess from this point forward, sorry not sorry

- PRINCESS AND MERCER ENDGAME YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

- LUKE’s GIRLS SOBBING OVER HIS BODY MADE ME WEEP HYSTERICALLY THANKS I HATE THE ANGST @ WRITERS

- GABRIEL’S STRUT UP TO THE GATE AND HIS THREAT

- GABRIEL PRAYING OVER ROSITA AS SHE GOES

- GABRIEL GETTING TO BE COCO’S DAD

- EUGENE’S CHARACTER ARC FOR ALL OF S11 WAS SOME GOOD FREAKING FOOD

- EUGENE NAMING HIS BABY ROSIE

- THE DINNER SCENE

- C A R O L SMILING THROUGHOUT THE E N T I R E DINNER SCENE

- DARYL BEING ROSITA’S GUARDIAN ANGEL AS HE WATCHES EVERYONE COME AND GO THROUGH THE DOOR

- DARYL’S F BOMBS

- DARYL’S “WE AIN’T THE WALKING DEAD’’

- THE MONTAGE AT THE END

- ANDREW LINCOLN’S VOICE

- ELEANOR MATSURA

- AND FINALLY: ALL HAIL TO OUR LORD AND SAVIOR BEAR MCCREARY FOR THIS SCORE FOR THIS EPISODE BECAUSE HOLY CRAP DUDE

The Episode Itself -

9/10. All of it. I’m so grateful for what this show has given me over the years and will miss it deeply but I cannot wait for the spin off!

#twd spoilers #twd #the walking dead spoilers

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denimbex1986 · 8 months

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'Fans of both devastating television and Irish actors rejoiced over the pairing of Andrew Scott and Paul Mescal in director Andrew Haigh’s “All of Us Strangers” — and for good reason.

Opening with a limited release in December 2023, “All of Us Strangers” fell in the shadows of other highly anticipated blockbusters like “Wonka” and “Mean Girls” (2024) that seem to be dominating the box office. But Haigh creates an almost unbearable, but painfully incredible, adaptation of Japanese writer Taichi Yamada’s 1987 novel “Strangers.” A romance, fantasy and drama all at once, Haigh keeps viewers on their toes in a film that is somehow extremely simple yet tragically complex.

The film follows Adam (Scott), a gay, lonely screenwriter with a tragic past, who spends most of his days lounging around his apartment, trying to write and eating reheated leftovers. He is almost always alone — until he meets Harry (Mescal).

Harry is the only other occupant of Adam’s confusingly deserted London apartment building. He drunkenly stumbles to Adam’s door looking for company, and Adam, perhaps too comfortable with being alone, politely declines, despite his intrigue. When the pair meet again, they quickly become engulfed in a relationship of sexual passion, created by a bond formed over familial trauma and growing up queer.

Amidst this, Adam lacks the inspiration to write a piece about his late parents, and he finds himself frequently taking the train back to his childhood home where his parents (Jamie Bell and Claire Foy) lived before they tragically died in a car accident some 30 years ago.

Scott is absolutely and undoubtedly incredible. The excellence of the film was riding entirely on his shoulders, and he did not disappoint. Scott’s depiction of Adam is awkward and beautiful, tragic and heartwarming, and his deliveries of Adam’s monologues are emotionally penetrating.

Mescal has mastered the niche of creating the lost, vulnerable 20-something everyone simultaneously hurts for and yearns for. It feels like Mescal’s character, Connell, in his debut show “Normal People,” has come back to haunt his fans, but somehow more destructive than before. This is a win for “Normal People” and Paul Mescal fans nonetheless.

Mescal and Scott, alongside one another, have brilliant chemistry that is cheeky, and even fun, in a film so utterly discomforting.

Bell and Foy’s depictions of not-quite-there parents are exceptional. Adam grappled with being gay as a child, and while his parents were aware of his struggles growing up, they declined to make an effort to soothe them. Now, comfortable in his sexuality, Adam tries to cope with whether his parents would be proud of the life he lives after their deaths.

“I do love you very much,” Adam’s mother said. “Somehow, even more now that I know you.”

Suddenly, it feels like Adam is 12 years old again, back in his old life as a closeted, bullied child, with parents who are doing their best. But can their “best” ever really be enough?

The soundtrack brilliantly adds to Adam’s nostalgia. The Pet Shop Boys’ cover of Elvis Presley’s “Always on My Mind” plays in the background as Adam and his parents decorate the Christmas tree, an event Adam recalls was his father’s favorite. The lyrics, “Maybe I didn’t love you / Quite as often as I should” are sung as Adam yearnigly looks up at his father hanging ornaments carefully on the tree.

Haigh creates a fantasy world through sharp scene cuts complemented by blurry shots that feel like a familiar dream. Adam is the only thing in the film that truly feels in focus to the viewer, with everything else somehow falling beyond reach. The soft, orange-toned aura of the film perfectly complements the dark concepts and devastating plot line.

When Adam and Harry go out to the club, the audience is transported into a blur of bright colors and shaky camera work, with the accompanying audio of Joe Smooth’s “Promised Land” blasting. For the film’s duration, it’s unclear if the entire thing is something of a hallucination — it’s almost as if the viewer has been submerged deep inside Adam’s mind.

While some could argue the film moved slowly and lacked breakthroughs and action, it’s Adam’s mind that is exhilarating. Plus, the film isn’t meant to be upbeat — Adam lives a simple, solitary life, and anything more than the excellence Haigh created would disrupt the true meaning of the plot.

This film is not for the emotionally weak — or maybe that’s exactly who it’s for. “All of Us Strangers” is beautifully done in a way that leaves your inner child pleasantly healed, and your adult self comfortably distraught.'

#Paul Mescal #Andrew Scott #Claire Foy #Jamie Bell #Andrew Haigh #All of Us Strangers #Joe Smooth #Promised Land #The Pet Shop Boys #Elvis Presley #Always on My Mind

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ohifonlyx33 · 3 years

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Maybe There Is A Way Home

so, this was going to be a brief hypothetical blurb about "what if" and it was going to be one maybe 2 paragraphs long with no effort put into it whatsoever. But then I started putting a little more effort into it...

And I guess I had a lot of feelings because OOPS I ACCIDENTALLY WROTE A SUPER ANGSTY PETERGWEN FIC WHERE GWEN STACY IS ALIVE IN ENGLAND BECAUSE OF ~NWH SPOILERS.

Sorry in advance if I did a bad job editing as I wrote. It's been a lot time since I wrote anything this long.

And yes, i named the London Boy Andrew.

-----

The first thing Peter does when he gets back to his world is go to visit Gwen's grave to tell her he met someone--himself, a couple of him-selves, actually--and that he saved someone special to one of his alternate selves. He'd saved the other Peter's Gwen.

But her grave isn't there. And neither is her father's.

He goes to fire escape outside her room, but her room is--well not quite empty, but uninhabited. The furniture was changed around, and there were things that hadn't been there before.

He finds another window to the house and catches a glimpse of Captain Stacy sitting in front of a TV.

His heart beats faster. Where is Gwen?

Reluctantly he knocks on the door, "Hey, Mrs. Stacy..." He makes up some excuse about his phone breaking and needing to get Gwen's address to send her something. He figures out she went to Oxford and still lives in London.

He flies over there without even packing. He almost doesn't need the plane to get there. He feels like he could have swum or swung there faster.

He gets there only to find that she's living with some guy... or at least it seems like they're headed home together. He's devastated and overjoyed at the same time. He hangs back without saying anything, but stares from a distance.

She sees him anyway. She always had a knack for noticing him when he felt invisible.

She says his name tentatively at first, but when he doesn't move, she yells his name more forcibly, like it's a swear word. She motions to the guy next to her to wait for her, and walks in a straight line over to him. When she demands to know why he's here, he says nothing.

He should leave, disappear, but he can't look away and his feet are frozen. Tears are forming in his eyes now, and she asks again more gently, adding after a while in silence that he's worrying her.

Finally his voice, shaking to keep from cracking, replies apologetically that he shouldn't have come here.

He turns around and turns the corner, but she follows him and grabs his arm. "Hey!"

Her solid corporeal form is enough to spin him back toward her and envelope her into his arms. He hugs her close and tries not to cry like a baby. He cries like a baby nonetheless.

"Peter, you're scaring me. What happened. Is it.. Is it Aunt May?"

"I just... missed you... I missed you, I missed you. So much. So so so much. And-- And you're here, look at you. You're here and you're safe."

"Peter, we broke up five years ago. I don't get it."

"Neither do I." he laughs some of his tears away. "I can't figure out why-"

She squints at him "Did you hit your head?"

He wipes his face, trying to compose himself. "No. No... You're right, right... and you have..."

"Andrew?"

"Right, right. Andrew. How long have you been, uh... how long have you been seeing..."

Then he notices Gwen looking past his shoulder.

"Gwen, you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine, Andrew. Peter this is..."

"Andrew, right. Cause you just said his name... Hey, I'm Peter... As you... you might have guessed. Cause she just said... Yeah. That's me."

Like an idiot, Peter offers his hand and hopes his face doesn't look too distraught.

"Right.... Peter." Andrew takes it suspiciously. "So how do you know Gwen?" A polite British smile veiling distrust.

Peter and Gwen share a glance. "High School," Gwen explains.

"Yeah, she saved my life more than once with science. Uh, in science class, I mean. Cause she's... You know... She's so smart. And I had no idea what I was doing... in high school."

"Right... Peter was kinda an idiot in high school."

"Hurtful."

"Mmm, but true," she quips, a cold edge in her voice, but the hint of a smile playing at the corner of her lips.

He shakes off the urge to grin at being put in his place by the living and breathing and still-brilliant Gwen Stacy, buries the pang of hurt that comes from knowing he'd hurt her, and turns his focus back to her boyfriend.

"Anyway, I'm very sorry to take your time, I didn't mean to... I just... I was... in town. You know, sight seeing... castles and stuff. And I thought I'd, you know, say hi. But I didn't mean to... I should get going. It was really good to see you Gwen. I'm glad your doing well. It was nice to meet you."

Peter tries to jump and pull the rip cord, desperately looking for the way out of this conversation, but to his surprise his parachute snags on Gwen Stacy's voice calling his name.

"Peter, wait." She looks at Andrew imploringly who looks confused but says nothing. "You.. you came all this way... You want to at least come in for a few minutes? It's cold."

"Oh... I... I really... Thanks, but I can't."

"The castles aren't going anywhere, mate." Andrew chimes in, projecting a level of confidence and security and trust that Peter is pretty sure means Andrew hates him.

---

Somehow Peter Parker finds himself in Gwen Stacy's flat. With her boyfriend. Being offered a beverage. "Do you have hot coco?"

She catches his reference and chuckles. "What am I, seventeen?"

"Chocolate house." he grins.

Gwen clarifies the inside joke for her current boyfriend, leaving out the part where she was dating Peter and hiding him in her room, and goes into the kitchen with Andrew behind her.

Peter waits in the living room for a few moments, contemplating how rude it would be if he just left without explanation.

Just as he's about to jump ship, Andrew comes in and explains that he has to pop out for a few minutes. Peter sees the clear signal in his eyes. A warning without words not to try anything with Gwen.

Gwen joins them a moment later with a mug in her hand. She stands uncomfortably next to Andrew as he kisses her on the cheek. "See you in a few," she assures him under her breath before he leaves.

"So you two--"

"Yeah, yeah. Took me a while to started dating after... But then I found Andrew, and he's great. We've been dating for a few months." She hands Peter the mug. "He's really sweet--"

"He seems ni--"

"He is. He is nice. Much nicer than you. Nice enough that when I asked for a few minutes alone with you, he was really understanding. So are you going to explain what is really going on before he gets back? Why are you here?"

"I..." He sputters around for a few minutes trying to figure out where to start. He lands on the couch, sets the mug down, and starts explaining the multiverse. "Okay so look, I'm minding my own business one day, right, and then suddenly there's this glowing orange portal and I went through to this alternate universe, right?"

"Wait seriously, you're telling me you saw some random portal and you just decided to step through it?"

"Yeah."

"Idiot... And you're saying the multiverse theory is-"

"Yeah. It's all true."

"I knew it!"

She sits and listens as he gives a brief recount of his story.

"I haven't run into myself, and I'm still living in the same apartment... So I'm pretty sure this is my timeline. Or at least I thought I was. Now I'm not so sure..." He lowers his gaze, and his voice, "There are a few pretty big changes since we saved Connors and Max."

"Changes? Like what?"

No answer. He gets up and paces.

"Like... Like..." He stares into her eyes and asks what he's dying to know, "Why did we break up? I just don't get it."

"Oh."

"Look, just assume I don't remember anything the last... 5 years or so. So what happened?"

Her voice gets quiet as she looks down at the mug he hasn't touched.

"That's what I would like to know. You... You never told me why. You were supposed to come to England, and you never showed up. You didn't bother to call or even answer my calls. You went totally silent. I had to call Aunt May to make sure you were actually still alive. I assumed it had something to do with with the pressure of saving people's lives, or maybe because you felt guilty about my dad's accident."

He takes that as a starting point to ask questions. Quickly he pieces together that her dad hadn't died fighting the Lizard. Instead he had been left paralyzed in an alternate version of events with Harry.

He sits back down, heavy from the ache in his chest "That's not how any of it happened in my timeline... But it sounds like.... like curing Dr. Connors and Max... fixed a lot of things."

"How was it different?"

His leg is bouncing anxiously, "You, um, you never went to Oxford."

"I stayed with you?"

He shakes his head. "Not exactly."

"Why?"

"Your dad... he got really hurt stopping Connors, not Harry. And he made me promise to leave you out of it--this life. He was... So I promised him before he... And I was worried you would get hurt next. Hurt because of me." He's on the verge of crying again.

"Peter..."

He looks at her once, eyes brimming with tears, then hangs his head, ashamed. "He died, Gwen-"

She keeps a brave face, but tears fill her eyes instantaneously as she connects the dots. "So you kept away."

"I kept trying. I kept pushing you away and pushing you away, until finally you pushed me away. You said we were on different paths, but I was still... I was going to follow you... "

"So what happened?" She holds her breath as they lock eyes and she sees the deep pain in his soul.

"Your dad was right... I should have stayed away. I'm sorry. I'm so... I'm so sorry. I shouldn't even be here."

She moves closer and puts a hand on his knee to stop him from getting up, whispering his name imploringly. "What else? What aren't you telling me?"

He buries his head in his hands, unable to look at her. But he feels her hand moving to his back and crumples under the weight of her touch. He confesses his guilt in a whisper. "I couldn't... I couldn't save you.

The blood drains from her face and tears start falling from her eyes as he pulls her into another hug and whispers, "I'm sorry" over and over, desperately, between his strained cries.

With some great effort she finds her voice. "It's not your fault."

---

When Andrew returns a minute later, he finds Gwen sitting alone on the couch, still crying. A cup of untouched hot cocoa on the table.

"He's gone?"

She nods. "He's the one that ghosted you, isn't he?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And now I understand what he's been going through for the last five years. And I don't hate him anymore."

"You forgave him?"

She nods.

"You still love him." He states it as an incredulous fact.

She doesn't move, but her silence speaks volumes. Her eyes are apologetic when she dares to glance up at him.

He shifts his weight, crosses his arms, bracing himself. "What about him?"

She nods. "He would never say it. Not now. Not here like this..."

"I just want to know what it means."

"I don't know. I don't know what it means or what to do about it."

---

Two weeks later Peter Parker hears a knock at his door. No, his... fire escape? He opens the window in his bedroom as he pulls Gwen Stacy inside.

"Hi."

"What are you-?"

"Look, I know it's complicated. And it's going to be hard-"

"Gwen-" He tries to turn away but she keeps her face in front of his. "You shouldn't... you shouldn't have-"

"I know that you've been suffering for a long time-"

"You shouldn't have come here. I'm sorry, but-" "No, no, no... No." she insists, placing her body firmly in front of his. "Because Andrew had a lot of questions about us, and I told him I had to go find the answers without him. And climbing this fire escape was NOT easy, so you're going to listen."

She squares her shoulders and shoots him another deadly look, daring him to move her, knowing he wouldn't. Challenging him to try.

He clenches his jaw, but remains silent. When he breaks eye-contact, she knows she's won one fight.

"I came here because seeing you again... I can't help thinking... what if we have a shot at a second chance?"

"Yeah, a chance to do the right thing. To let you go this time." he says flatly.

"Or a chance to get our timing right. To learn from our mistakes."

"You risked your neck climbing a fire escape. To my window. What exactly have you learned?"

"That you can't avoid risk no matter what you choose! You have to choose what you value you more. You can risk it all and loose it all, or you can live your life regretting everything. Either way, it's a risk you have to face. It's the cost of being Spider-Man."

"I know that. I lost it all. I lost you. You. You were the cost Gwen. And I regretted that cost every day."

"What if we're meant to accept that risk though? Spider-Man takes risks every day, pursuing what he believes is right. And I love that about you. I just want a chance to do the same. Because I can't risk walking away again when we have another chance. Not when I still-"

She steps toward him, but he steps away. She hopes he doesn't notice her flinch. But she's hurt at the rejection.

"I learned... I learned to keep my distance. That was my mistake."

"See," she shakes her head in distaste, "that doesn't sound like a good moral of the story to me. That's a terrible lesson." One step closer. "Just awful, really."

Her attempt at a lighter tone is met with his dead silence. He's still lost in his grief and shame. But she thinks she sees a crack in his armor widening. If she can just get through...

She lowers her voice, resting a hand on his heart, eyes peering into his. "We all need people, Peter. It keeps us sane and human. And I know that you blame yourself for what happened, but you were not responsible for my--

"Yes, I was. Yes, I was... "

"No."

He moves her hand away, looking miserable, "Yes, Gwen. I was."

"You weren't. I'm sure I knew the risks that come along with dating Peter Parker. I signed up for them."

His whole body seems to react violently to her words, "See? See? That's exactly what got you killed. And I won't let that happen again. So just stop!"

She purses her lips and narrows her eyes and spits out his own name, scolding him. Mixed in with all the pain she's feeling, she feels a spark of indignation towards Peter for... for what really? For pushing her away? She knows he's only trying to keep her safe. Still, he's being stubborn. He's being cold. He won't listen. He's-

He's breaking down on the bed beside her.

"I can't- I- I can't. You don't understand how it felt to hold your body in my arms, to know it was my fault. You don't know how badly I-" he inhales sharply, like he's hurt.

Gwen breathes out a fearful "What?"

"...I wanted to die. Part of me did."

She realizes his armor is gone. His stony defense is all but ash. He's vulnerable now, and his fear is gripping him. And she's overwhelmed by his love for her. She falls to her knees in front of him, looking up at his crest-fallen face. She would give anything to make him happy again.

"I'm sorry." she whispers. "I'm sorry." She reaches to wipe the tears from his eyes, but he swats her hand away. She doesn't wince. She understands. This is scary for him. It's terrifying for her too, if she's honest.

"Don't."

But if Spider-Man could be brave enough to dive off the tallest buildings in New York and swing head-first into danger without a second thought, Gwen Stacy had another kind of courage. She would lay her heart out on the line time and time again. As long as she believed he loved her, she would stay by his side and help him fight his fears.

"This is our second chance to learn to be happy. Don't you want to be happy? "

He nods once. Barely. Then shakes his head. "I don't deserve it."

"Look at me, Peter. Look."

He meets her gaze with honest eyes full of love and fear. There he is.

"I'm here. I'm here and I'm alive. You did that. You fixed it. This is possible because of you. You saved me."

She reaches up wipes his tears away anyway. She kisses his tear stained cheeks and his eyes flutter closed. "Spider-man deserves a second chance to be happy. Don't we both?"

"I just want you to be happy."

"So don't push me away this time. Please."

Maybe this wouldn't work. Maybe the damage was already done. But Gwen is before his eyes, pleading for his love. And wrong or right, Peter is done resisting. The kiss is deep, full of emotions, tears, passion, fears. And for that moment it feels like just maybe...

Maybe there is a way home for them.

#peter x gwen #petergwen #gwen x peter #nwh spoilers #tasm 2 #gwen stacy #peter parker

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fromgwentopeter · 3 years

Text

After All This Time... [I]

Words: +1k Warnings: NWH MAJOR SPOILERS ✒︎ Andrew!Peter Parker x MJ!reader ✒︎ this is my first fanfic ever written on this app, so please be gentle aaa (but I have experience, like, I’ve been on Wattpad forever). ✒︎ oh, yes, the edit is made by me ;) ✒︎ I’m not sure if this’ll be a series or a one shot, I’m just navigating on new waters here.

Summary: after NWH, Peter finds himself wondering what other things life has to offer, or is it just the same as always? Maybe he can open his heart once again?

Chapter I. Traces of what was and will be.

Old wounds never seem to heal solely... One to know would question the enhanced individual whose constant broken ribs healed completely over night, but this one... this one scar was so profound and hurtful, it never closed...

Poison filled his consciousness when he remembered no one --indeed, no one-- knew of his double life. The whole anonymity of the circumstances made him feel alone; not at solace, but simply and utterly devastated by the silence of not having something --someone-- to cling to when the urge to cry was mad and urgent. When the dim light of the city that never sleeps shrouded him with grief, made his stomach churn over what could’ve been, and let his mind wander into a pit of darkness to which no one should go past midnight and after midday.

But, there's always the memory... The human’s most deadly drug, which has been death’s ally for centuries, if not, before the first walk on the planet; the first step.

Time goes by, nonetheless. Proving once again that it is not forgiving, and that lost moments are stuck forever in the past and left as a changing-point in life.

His arms ache and burn as he swings at an ungodly hour; as the first rays of sunshine start picking through the horizon full of skyscrapers and the usual traffic consumes the empty streets.

Peter doesn’t need a clock to know what hour it is. Sleep was something alien to get, and thus, he constantly kept on swinging and swinging and swinging until suddenly the sky was bright again.

Aunt May had scolded him on several occasions --judging by the bags under his eyes and the lack of nutrients he seemed to not get into his body-- and it ached, sometimes, to see her there... as healthy as ever, as eager to work; as eager to carry on with a life he thought should be better, yet... admiration splayed all over when she was around. It surprised him how she could keep up after the many obstacles that had showed up on her path.

So he mimicked her. Now more than ever. Tried to be someone he once was.

The view above the Empire State Building never ceased to get boring. This one was one of his favorite parts of ever day life as Spider-Man. The view... sweet sweet view, that mesmerized him even on the worst days. He loved how the orange unfolded like a natural dance, and how little by little it got this feverish tone that was different every single morning.

And just like the fire-like view, his arms burned just the same. It felt like having to use a couple of crutches for the last decade, but as per usual, in the next hours of doing Peter Parker stuff, his arms healed and he was more than ready for another round of punches and swinging around his city.

There was nothing that could take this moment awa--

Oh, but there was...

Like a maniac with own life, Peter’s phone started ringing frantically. There was no need to guess who was on the other end of the line.

Removing his mask firstly and taking out his phone from the bottom of his boot, Peter’s ear was close to burst, and he felt... saliva? maybe, coming from the other side?

“PARKER!”

Kind ol’ Jameson... how nice it was to hear his voice after everything that had happened just a day ago. Hence, the ungodly hour and the never-sleep program.

“SPIDER-MAN GOES MISSING. HEAD TITLE OF MY NEXT ISSUE, SEEMS LIKE MY HOPES ARE FINALLY SET TO H-- he’s been sighted again!? a moment ago-- jeez, Betty, sit down...”

The old man clears his throat.

“Parker... WHERE ARE MY PICTURES!?”

Peter sighed.

“Jameson!” He greeted in his monotonous excited tone, truly wondering how the man managed to always catch him in the worst of times. “They’ll be there, they’ll be there... I’ll drop them and leave before you can even see my face!”

“What!? I don’t hear you!”

Well, clearly. The connection was never so good on top of a building as Peter once had believed. Too many interferences...

“I’ll get them there! Just wait until the store opens so I can print them...!”

But the phone had been hung up on the other line already.

“That gentle man,” Peter mocked, just before putting on his mask and dropping thirty floors before detaching a web and swinging away. Those pictures weren’t gonna take themselves.

🕸

When sleep did come, Peter only ever dreamt one thing.

Her... all pale and afraid, but still beautiful. Always beautiful even on her last moments; beautiful and dead --the last image of her he has engraved inside his never-forgiving memory.

He lost Gwen, and there was not a passing day in which shivers and ache didn’t run down his whole body, making him reminisce a nightmare of which he can't escape from.

There is a piece of him that was lost, but then...

MJ was falling. The look in her eyes when her Peter was unable to catch her; his own urge to scream out, "NO!”.

The air suddenly felt short as he fell towards her. Knowing that his webs were useless and that he had to get there, quick.

Peter embraced her; falling alongside her --not daring to let her go-- until his web balanced the two of them and they fell to the ground.

She seemed out of her element; shocked at realizing that if it wasn't for him, she would’ve been no more...

“Are you okay?” Came as a whisper, asking as of duty but wondering if he was talking to himself.

“Yeah,” She answered, feeling the weight of his tears fall onto her sweater. MJ frowned, “Are you?”

Peter nodded with a small smile. He was okay.

🕸

‘The Avengers’, or ‘Stark’, were just some of the things he typed down on his computer some weeks after his re-encounter with old friends from work, and some new ones.

“You’ve got someone?”

“Me? no, no, no...”

Older Peter hummed with amusement laced with his tone.

“I’m too busy... you know, not doing Peter Parker stuff...” Peter laughed grimly. “You?”

“Oh, it’s... complicated,”

They chuckled, knowing all too well the feeling of being themselves and each other.

Peter sipped from his coffee, scrolling down his emails seeing plenty of noiseless yet loud messages from Jameson and his desperation for pictures and more pictures, yet, his focus was shaken by the television on the corner of the room.

“The sudden disappearance of Spider-Man brought, if not enough, more crime and chaos to the citizens of New York. What could happen if this prolonged itself like seven years ago... or is him being here the reason of all this trouble to unleash?”

Peter scoffed through his mug, but the beating of someone’s heart was suddenly much louder than that.

As a car ran rampage outside of the establishment, everyone gasped and turned to the window. What becomes of you when you watch and do nothing?

Peter stood up on instinct, the time went on slower, nonetheless, it all stoped as it started, with a nervous laugh escaping the mouth of who could’ve been ran over.

His eyes scanned around. From the watchers to the receiver.

Her shaky hand clutched at her chest while the other one tried to stifle the chuckles of anguish. The bell of the door went off as the owner of the cafe approached her, probably asking if she was okay... Peter sat down, catching on to some words, like...

“I think I’ll look both ways from now on,” or “I was too busy focusing on not being mugged...”

All the while, she wouldn’t stop grinning and panting...

Then they finally entered the shop, she immediately announcing, “I’m alive, everyone!”

Some chuckled while other’s seemed shaken, but it all eventually fell to the normal rhythm of before.

“You’ll find her, you know...”

Older Peter said as he clutched his abdomen, still being able to appreciate the sunrise.

“Find who?” Peter asked innocently; the feeling of hope flourishing through his stomach, knowing what the other Peter meant.

“You will find your MJ.”

The clock was ticking, urging Peter to leave the coffee shop and head to deliver his pictures. He stood up and hung his camera around his neck and striped his bag tight.

“Hope the service was of your liking,”

He turned, seeing her again; not scared, rather careless. Peter smiled and searched for some money.

“Yeah, yeah... good you’re okay, by the way, after--”

She chuckled, and interrupted him with a wave of her hand.

“It happens a lot. Guess I still got a few kicks to go, huh,” She said while picking up Peter’s mug.

He hended her the money, awkwardly, and read the name on her tag.

“Thank you, uhm, Glory...”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, looking down to her tag funnily, “that’s my partner’s name. I’m MJ.”

🕸

That night, Peter was able to found a bare closure; a glimpse to what the future held, and there was no one falling in his dreams neither. Everything was good.

Masterlist

#spider man #andrew garfield #the amazing spider man #mary jane #peter parker #no way home #spider-man #x reader

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random-imagines-blog · 4 years

Text

Sideways {Andrew Garfield x Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 1811 Summary: Andrew gets a call that no one wants to get. Especially from their own child. Warning: Contains hospital, miscarriage and talk of pregnancy.

The best part about your job was that you could do a lot of it online, and could travel with Andrew when he went abroad for his different acting gigs. This was one of the last times that you would be able to go, since it was the Summer and your daughter was going into first grade, and you wanted to keep her in one place to keep her adjusted. Still, he was going to appreciate all that he could get. And every minute that he wasn’t needed on set, he was going to take you and your child together to go and explore. He’d been here in Vancouver before, but you hadn’t, and he was eager to show you what he had learned about on his last trip here. But for now, he was stuck in the studio, getting fitted for one of the ‘special’ outfits that he was going to be wearing for this film.

He was laughing with the wardrobe stylist, joking about something that happened with the director on the first day here. They had pranked him by bringing in a bunch of extras and announcing them as the main cast. The director had sputtered, and not wanting to be rude, had to excuse himself to make ‘script adjustments’. Once he had realized that it was all a prank, he saw the funny side, and all tension and nerves around the team had dissipated. Andrew had been in on it and thought that it was hilarious, especially since he had been dressed as one of the camera-crew. Best acting he had ever done, the director had said to him.

“There’s a call for you, Mr Garfield,” His assistant said, popping up beside him. She was a small, older woman with a very no-nonsense air about her. She hadn’t appreciated the prank, because it meant that she missed out on a few hours of work. “It’s urgent.”

“It is?” Andrew asked, wondering who it could be. You only texted him during work hours, and he’d give you a call at lunch once in a while, otherwise he would wait to tell you about his day once he got home. That way his little girl could listen in and chime in whenever she wanted as well. “Excuse me,” He told the woman who was measuring his shoulders to make an adjustment to the suit. She nodded, and helped him to remove what he had on of the costume, then he changed quickly then finally accepted the phone from his assistant.

“This is Andrew,” He said, just in case it was an urgent professional call. He could hear a commotion coming from the other end of the line. There were men talking, and then a loud siren. Ambulance, not fire truck or police. He knew the difference, having always stayed in hotels in busy cities.

“Daddy?” The six-year-olds voice came through, and Andrew felt his heart sink from his chest down to his knees. He looked at his assistant who looked more solemn than usual. And maybe even a little bit concerned. “Daddy - it’s Mommy.”

“What’s wrong with mommy? Tell me everything - and where are you going?” He took his wallet and keys from his assistant, who had been holding onto them during the fittings.

“Where are we going?” Andrew heard her ask someone, and a man said something in response. “Vancouver General,” The little girl repeated.

“I’ll meet you there, okay? Stay with one of the paramedics until Daddy gets there. I won’t be long.”

It took him half an hour to get to the hospital, and that was with light traffic. He cursed the studio for being so far away, but he knew it was just the stress. His daughter wasn’t able to give him much information, just that you had been in the bathroom, crying in pain, and then told the little girl to call 911. They had taught her the emergency number for every country that they stayed in, just in case. It was good that she knew, but he hated that she had to use it.

You had been feeling fine that morning, he recalled. You went to the hotel restaurant for breakfast, had a simple meal of oatmeal and fruits. He was thinking that perhaps you had food poisoning of some sort? He hoped it was something as simple as that, though you wouldn’t have called 911 over something so trivial.

He parked, then ran into the first entrance that he could find. It was emergency, and they gave him directions to the fourth floor. He noticed from the signs around the elevator that it was to ... to a pregnancy floor?

He saw his daughter first, sitting on a bench, reading a book, swinging her legs back and forth since they weren’t reaching the ground. There was a paramedic sitting with her, but not saying anything. Just keeping an eye on her, which Andrew was thankful for. His footsteps brought their attention, and the little girl jumped to her feet. She had been crying, Andrew could tell from the puffiness of her cheeks. She ran towards him, and he leaned down to catch her in a hug. “Daddy! I called just like you taught me to!” She pulled your phone out of her pocket, it looked so massive in her little hands, and she held it up to show you.

He knew the password, there were no secrets between you two. You knew his as well, but neither of you ever went snooping. In fact, this was the first time that he had used it. He saw indeed that your first call of the day was to work, and then 911, and then to him. He turned the phone dark and put it into his own pocket. He scooped up the girl and held her in his arms in a giant bear hug. He looked at the paramedic over her shoulder, took a step towards him and held his hand out. “Thank you so much for staying with her-”

“It’s no problem,” He said, getting to his own feet. “We had to resupply the ambo anyway. And - the doctor said that your wife was stable. I’m sure she’ll be out soon.” He shook Andrew’s hand then excused himself to go back to work, and Andrew sunk down on the recently vacated spot on the bench, still holding his daughter on his lap. There wasn’t much that he could do except for wait for the Doctor, which didn’t take long. The commotion that your daughter made had gotten their attention.

“Hello, Mr. Garfield?” The Doctor said, coming out of the room. She reminded Andrew a lot of his assistant. Same motherly face, same solemn features. Andrew nodded to the affirmative. “Your wife is going to be just fine, though her body had gone through some trauma. She’s going to need to rest, take it easy for a couple of weeks at least.”

“What happened?” He asked, his voice shaky with relief that you were going to be fine. Still, this had seemed to come out of nowhere. And the fact that you were in the pregnancy wing made him nervous.

“Your wife had a miscarriage, Mr. Garfield. She was three months along,” The Doctor’s voice was straight to the point, no emotions at all. She must have to deliver news like this all of the time. “She claims that she didn’t know that she was pregnant, so she is feeling rather fragile. I’d like to keep her for overnight observation, just to be careful.”

Andrew swallowed, but nodded. There wasn’t any other reaction that he felt like he could have. He could only hug his daughter close, thankful that at the very least, he had her. “Can I see her?” He asked the Doctor, who nodded, and motioned towards the open door that she had just come out of. Andrew got back up to his feet, and walked in, still holding his daughter, who was being unusually quiet. He realized as he walked into the room that she had fallen asleep.

You hadn’t, however. You were laying in the hospital bed, hooked up to machines, getting fluids, staring straight ahead of you blankly. Andrew hummed to announce that he was there, and you snapped out of it, your eyes meeting his. They were still filled with tears on your end, while he was still comprehending the news.

“Hey baby,” You said, weakly smiling. Andrew smiled back, and set the little girl down on a chair, where she curled up immediately and continued to sleep away. All that worry and excitement must have exhausted her. He then went to your side, taking hold of both your hands, being careful of the IVs.

“How -” He said, shaking his head. “How did this happen?”

“I don’t know,” You said, blinking away tears. “I didn’t even know I was pregnant. I swear, I wasn’t keeping anything from you. I had my period and no other symptoms. I mean, I thought I gained a little bit of weight but I thought that was just all of the cake,” You somehow managed to laugh though it didn’t sound sincere. “The Doctor says that happens sometimes.”

Andrew would never dream of accusing you of cheating. The two of you stayed in the newlywed stage of your marriage, remaining sexually active. The math added up enough, three months, you two were definitely intimate three months ago.

“How do you feel?” Andrew asked, caressing the top of your hands with his thumbs. “And not just physically.”

You took a deep breath in and then a deep breath out. “I’m devastated,” You admitted, finally admitting your own truth. Tears were fighting to come out and you had stopped the battle, letting them descend freely. “When I heard that I miscarried - I realized... I want that baby. I want to have another one with you and we just lost our chance.”

Andrew felt the same wave of depression overcome him. In an alternate universe, he could just be finding out that he was going to be a father again. He had to be strong for you though. He could let out his emotions when you got home. You were too vulnerable right now.

“We’ll have more chances,” Andrew said, leaning forward and kissed a tear off of your cheek. It tasted salty, it lasting on his lips for a long while. “I’ll gladly give you another baby.”

You chuckled at that, though you were still crying. “You just like the act of making one, mister,” You squeezed his hands. Andrew laughed as well, and nodded.

“Can you blame me?”

#Andrew Garfield #Andrew Garfield x reader #Andrew Garfield oneshot #celebrity #celebrity oneshot #request #oneshot #one shot #x reader #andrewg

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vasiktomis · 3 years

Text

Pomegranate, Chapter 18: Quiet Earth, Part II.

John Seed x Female Deputy

Rating: Explicit.

Read it on Ao3 here! Notes: Co-angels @honeysides, @shallow-gravy, and @lilwritingraven all provided immense support while I toiled over this chapter, which I am forever immensely thankful for. Never would've been able to give people second-hand embarrassment like this without y'all enabling me. As always, thank you for reading!

WARNINGS: Canon-typical violence. Sexually-explicit content. An angry cult leader with performance anxiety. You know the drill.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The comparative tranquillity of Seed Ranch had a way of making Cora feel like time was moving slower than it should have. In all seriousness, the chain-reaction of their escape from Fall's End was still firing, but without the gunshots and the shouting, approaching the property felt more like being in stasis. It was too still. Too unassuming.

The Project members awaiting John on the steps of the property were vigilant about a thorough, yet strangely distant reception of the man, as if they’d been hard-wired to anticipate his moods; warmly welcoming him home, but giving the man such a wide berth that one might have assumed he was carrying a live grenade.

Cora supposed he was at least consistent in his inconsistency; just as volatile toward his allies as he was his enemies. She wondered if the serenity of the ranch was a natural element of John's sect; whether they simply cared enough about the man to know his boundaries to the inch - or whether such a light-hearted environment was manufactured deliberately and specifically around his temper.

The Deputy’s presence did well to break the façade, however. It brought with it a range of cautious exchanges from the followers that ushered them into the home; some in fear of re-living the bedlam of her bunker escape, and others casting stern looks between her bare midriff and their leader’s refusal to leave her side.

She noticed it, too - how he stuck to her like Velcro.

It was only after she was administered pain medication and had her wound dressed (they’d been gracious enough to re-dress the haphazard bandaging on her hand, too) that John abruptly took his leave, excusing himself to apparently more pressing matters. Cora was simply confined to the foyer, drifting in and out of snoozing consciousness on one of the couches in front of the fireplace.

All in all, the mental and physical exhaustion of conceding defeat to the Project proved in all honestly a little boring. The blonde had expected she might break down once she was left alone. It seemed about the right time for it, and yet, all she felt was tired. Was it the cult who had done this to her? Run her so ragged that only anger remained?

Ideas of escape waxed and waned with cultists moving in and out of the space periodically to check in on her, lessening in their hostility with each passing visit until their warnings not to cross them turned into beratements over her refusal to sit still, for the love of Joseph.

In her restlessness, she sorted through thoughts and memories, deciding on the conclusion that while yes, today had been devastating, she’d long since thrown away her capacity to recognise it. It had been so long since she’d spared herself any emotion beyond rage that everything else felt only vaguely different. She might’ve broken down, had she not forgotten how to do such a thing. Trying only gave her a stomach ache, and so she resigned herself to waiting it out, growing more and more impatient with how undramatic this aftermath had turned out to be. How her captor had left her so unceremoniously after being declared victor.

Maybe he was similarly nonchalant about all this.

...No. That was impossible. He'd probably just excused himself to go dance a celebratory little jig. Perhaps he'd stepped through a hornet's nest in doing so, or been ambushed by coyotes. Something beyond mere choice that warranted the excuse to disappear like that.

The skylights in the ceiling changed hues over the course of what felt like hours, however, and John did not return.

It felt weird, being in his home without him present. It felt weird being fussed over by house staff who muttered for her to stop picking at her bandages while she lay across his furniture, warmed by his fire. It felt weird that her exposure to Sharky and Jess had finally led her to identify that the strange smell she’d always detected in the Baptist’s home was unmistakably raw cannabis.

Eventually, the clatter of plates and bubbling conversation drew the Deputy away from the couch and around to the other end of the foyer. The gigantic table she’d only ever seen stacked high with bibles in the past now carried an assortment of food, picked at by passing cultists like a barbeque line while they chattered away.

Watching them almost felt like watching her family back in Brooklyn. Waiting out the messy crossed streams of conversation in hiding until the coast was clear and the kids could swarm the reward of food without the labour of having to hang out with the adults. It was strange, how they mimicked a family, when the only similarity Cora could gauge between them were the logos printed on their clothes.

The spying didn't last. One pair of eyes flickering to her quickly became ten, and Cora's heart rate skyrocketed. Instinct kicked in. Eyes combing over each Peggie around the table for weapons. Hands reaching for her own absent holster and emptied pockets.

The group did not respond in-kind. Apparently, they were too preoccupied with loading up their plates to deal with a leader of the Peggie-killing movement in their space.

Cora didn’t buy it. Not straight away. Not until her gaze darted around the rest of the room, weighing up which of the Baptist’s gaudy home decorations might be most effective at bone-crushing and-

“Look who’s got her colour back.”

…

What?

The same cultist who spoke up - a woman - one of the group who’d been at the church earlier, gestured at the table. “Hungry?”

What?

One Peggie with a particularly heavy beard slid a plate over the table toward Cora. Two younger girls over his shoulder giggled to each other.

“Do you think we should offer her a shirt?”

“I’m not that brave. Leave it to John.”

“Anything fresh is all from the garden.” The bearded Peggie spoke, pulling Cora’s scowl away from them with a smile.

She inspected the table. Undersized apples and strawberries. Home-grown, by their imperfections. Multi-coloured silver beet and slightly burned sweetcorn. Homemade bread piled an end of its own, surrounded by a selection of preserves in blank jars. All of it, against her will, served as a reminder that she’d only ingested coffee today. This was bizarre, but she was hungry. Not to mention the Resistance diet consisted mostly of canned spaghetti.

Gingerly, the Deputy picked at one of everything, and while the group of cultists continued chatting, she stood awkwardly by on the side-line, trying to figure out the most efficient means of eating corn while still maintaining a hostile air about her and lot letting slip that it was fucking delicious.

Apparently tearing into the thing wasn't adequately frightening. The same talkative man split from the party to approach her, ignoring the roll of her eyes. A spot of shine glided over his bald head while he moved around the table, and as he neared, he gave her a moment to squint at him.

There was something familiar about that overbearing air.

“We’ve... -”

“Met.” He confirmed. “Briefly.”

“When?”

“Months ago now. I, uh, almost baptised you.”

Cora chewed the inside of her cheek, considering that. Somewhere in the back of her mind the memory of wet rocks beneath her feet swelled with the lapping of shallow waters. Just tap my arm if you need to come up for air.

He shrugged at her silence. “You were pretty Blissed-”

“No, I remember you.” The Deputy mumbled, turning her attention back to her food, intent on keeping it there. It didn’t last long. A hand stretched out before her, and with a laboured, full-mouthed sigh, she shook it.

“Andrew. Glad to see you again.” He offered.

“Okay.”

The silence was as painful as she’d hoped to make it, but tragically, he was resilient.

"Andy works, too-"

"Andrew's syllabically identical and perfectly sufficient. Where's your boss?"

“Upstairs, working.”

“And he’s asked not to be disturbed.” One woman interjected. “So don’t get any ideas.”

Cora blinked at that. Then, plate still in-hand, she spun on her heel and made for the staircase.

Behind her, the group exchanged a collective look of panic.

"Ma'am?"

"Sister?"

"Hey!"

“We’re not allowed up there!”

“Perfect." Cora grumbled back, already ascending the steps. "Then you don’t have to worry about following me.”

The second storey of Seed ranch was dead still in comparison to downstairs. A hallway presented a quiet stretch of closed doors and branching hallways that led out to balconies, part way between residential space and tactical efficiency.

Back in the day, she’d assumed the Baptist just had a thing for doors. Looking around at the space now, it was clear that John was well-aware of how many enemies he’d generated thanks to his work.

The crackle of a radio up ahead drew the Deputy’s attention, and as she drew closer, a hushed curse.

“Pick up. Come on, pick up.” John murmured. Then, in a brand new tone: “Joseph. Brother. I need you to call me back. Please, it’s been - just...whenever you can. I’ll be here.”

She found him beyond a cracked doorway, hunched over a desk. His fingers smoothed through damp hair hair, tugging, jaw clenched and brow furrowed.

The door creaked as Cora pressed against it, and in the time it took for her to cringe at the noise, John had sat up straight, shifting out of whatever private mood she’d spied him in. He blinked up at her, inhaling deeply, reeking of uncertainty.

She felt it too. Of all the scenarios to catch him alone in, the blonde hadn’t expected that she’d be brandishing sourdough.

A moment passed. Both of them trying to feel out this new territory.

“Hey.” Cora eventually muttered.

John exhaled. “Hi.”

“Brought food.”

He looked away. “Deputy, pleased as I am that you’re making yourself at home, I asked for privacy.”

“Since when did you value privacy?” Cora asked, pushing into the room and seating herself on the desk. The tired irritation on John’s face when she set the plate in front of him was worth the day of boredom already. He glanced up at her, and she responded with a wolfish smile.

“You have corn in your teeth.” He mumbled, relenting, posture slackening. “And you’re getting blood flakes on my desk.”

The Deputy tried not to look so hurried about picking. “Isn’t that a garnish in Japan?”

“That’s fish. You’re thinking bonito.”

“I know what I’m thinking.”

Another pause.

“Is that what you thought you were filleting in the church? Bonito?”

Annoyed silence.

“It was Nick.”

Finally, John scoffed, glaring at her, offering a reluctant nod when she flashed her teeth to confirm she’d gotten rid of the food in her teeth. “You are so funny.”

“Thank you. Eat something.”

Cora watched the man regard the plate in front of him.

“How generous of you to take a bite out of everything first." His gaze landed on the shredded corn cob. "Except for that. That, you demolished."

"Yeah, well." Cora plucked up the same piece of bread he'd been reaching for. "Why're you hiding up here? Thought maybe you would've starting laying on the torment by now. Not...brooding."

"Brooding."

"Yes."

"Pardon me for needing to adjust to having a murderer in my home."

Cora hummed at that, casting a look around the room. "Took you about 2 seconds to adjust to a murderer's tongue in your mouth-"

"Deputy." John spat, pushing the plate away from him in a final display of denial. "Please, leave. I'm busy."

“No, you’re not.” Cora bit back. “I want to know what your plan is. Now you’ve got me, what’s next? What’s the point in me sitting around on your couch all afternoon? You don’t leave me alone, ever, and now that I’m here you want me to make myself scarce?”

The Baptist's jaw rolled in annoyance, and when Cora shifted her legs to face him easier, he jerked away from her, avoiding contact. “You’ve grown too accustomed to being in the spotlight." He grumbled.

“Stop avoiding the question.”

“What question?”

“What’s your deal? What's the plan? What happens now?”

“The plan is to get back to work. My apologies if your assumption was that you were the main goal of this valley, but there are dozens of things that require my attention-“

“Like sitting by the phone for your brother for hours?”

John paused at that. Something old and familiar flashed over his expression, and he stood from his seat. “You’re jealous.” He accused.

Cora’s lip curled, ears running hot. “You’re wasting time, and I want to know why.”

“Is that why you're nosing through my business? If I gave you details - what I'm working on - what the next step is - is that a strategic win for you?" His palms slid against the desk, planted on either side of her legs. "Or is my lack of undivided attention so awful to you that anything to help rationalise it would do?"

Something in her celebrated that look on his face. The renewed confidence in his attitude. It enraged her, but it was scores better than his absence.

She scowled, but she didn’t pull away when John leaned down into her space. It didn’t work the way it used to. Now it didn’t feel close enough. Now she wanted to part her legs and pull his hips against her.

It was a discomfort she’d never known before, and now, even with her wounds dulled, it almost felt painful. She wanted to know what the plan was. She wanted to plan an escape. She wanted to have just this one little victory if this was the end of the line. If he was going to convert her, then she could at least undermine him by ruining his faithfulness. It might destabilise him enough that she could find some advantage to getting back to Fall’s End. That would make it okay, if it were all driven by strategy or revenge. Her curiosity would be sated.

But then, as if he could hear her thoughts from the sheer volume of their demands, John drew away from her.

“You should shower.” He muttered quickly, snatching the radio from the desk. “Across the hall, on the right.”

He didn’t look at her as he left the room. He didn’t look back when he disappeared down the hall and made for the stairs.

Cora glared ahead at the space he'd left emptied.

What a fucking coward.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Despite her soured mood, Cora had done as she was ordered. She spent all of two minutes rinsing the old blood from her skin, and another ten reflecting in quiet judgement over the bottle of 3-in-1 sitting in the shower caddy with her. Maybe she should've allowed herself the opportunity to warrant having to bathe here earlier. Maybe she'd have developed more of a sense of disgust for the man if she had.

The clothes she’d arrived in were still stained, but it was an improvement. Less of a sensory distraction while she sorted through her thoughts, at least.

While the Deputy dried off and re-dressed, the haze of pain relief began to lighten, and she was able to focus on cobbling together some kind of a plan to get herself out of Seed Ranch. She might have conceded defeat, but the hideous tattoo marking her sternum didn't mean she was suddenly going to behave. Especially if her captor was refusing to even the playing field and let her know what the hell they were supposed to do now.

Whatever John was keeping from her, it was urgent enough that his entire demeanour had changed. What did he need from Joseph so desperately? If it had anything to do with the Resistance, or if had anything to do with Joseph coming here, the Deputy intended to put a stop to it.

If John Seed’s intention was to avoid her, he should’ve thought twice before locking her in his home. Ensuring that he’d keep his distance, however, was the easy part.

The real goal would be getting him away from that radio.

Descending the stairs, Cora found John in solitary silence in the foyer. There was no sign of the Peggies serving up supper anymore, and the dining table had been cleared.

John was alone, sitting on the couch by the fireplace with his head in his hands, no less agitated than when she’d first found him. The hand-held sat close by on his left. In front of him on the coffee table was a landline phone that hadn’t been there previously.

He didn’t notice her at first. To his credit, she didn’t announce herself until a creak of the stairs did it for her. Then, the snap of his gaze toward her was instant. Hyper-vigilant.

Cora reached the first floor. “Where’d everyone go?”

“Minding the perimeter.” John answered, making space for her to take a seat but keeping himself faced away. “You’ll be pleased to know that your troop is still yet to be captured. Little doubt they’re aware that you’ve been brought here. Even less that they’re on the hunt for you, given the state Fall’s End was in when we left. Boshaw seemed happy enough to blow up half the town to get to you. Shorty."

There was no mistaking his bitterness at the nickname.

When she approached, Cora found a folded Project sweater sitting where she intended to. John’s jaw rolled when she slowed to glare at the thing.

Still, he refused to look at her.

“Put it on. You’ll freeze.”

“I’d rather not look like one of you when the Resistance comes to rescue me.”

“You are one of us, now. Almost. Once you’ve pledged yourself to the Project, they needn’t consider it a rescue effort any longer.”

Cora huffed in response, pulling the sweater over her head and slumping into the couch. “You sound a lot less happy about that than I’d expect.”

“I’m fine.”

Stonewalling. Now she was beginning to understand how annoying it was when she did it.

“I’ve made enough of a career out of it to know what you look like when you’re not fine.” The Deputy remarked.

“I think I preferred it when I was asking all the questions.”

“I think you preferred me when I was tied up in a basement.”

That comment caught a glance. Amusement, unnoticed on her part.

“So, what - you’ve been sitting beside a radio all day and somehow weren’t inclined to terrorise me? Or were you just that busy arranging flowers for my Atonement?”

“Are you feeling stood up?” John asked. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were projecting, Deputy.”

Her ears flushed hot. Immediate rage flooded pitted in her stomach, but as much as the blonde would have liked to get up and stomp elsewhere, she had little other option without any better ideas.

Right now, this was all she had.

Channelling her inner Adelaide.

Cora inhaled, swallowing back a cursory retort. “Both work.”

In her periphery, John ceased all movement, staring straight ahead.

All she had to do was pressure him enough to move away. Then it was over. She’d been rejected by him before - anticipating it happening again shouldn’t have needed to feel as gross as it did.

“Maybe I think you got scared, not having me under your control.” She went on, finding the words already prepared on her tongue as she turned toward him. “You seemed like you were enjoying it when it was you-”

“-and then you punched me in the face.” John cut in stiffly.

“Didn’t deter you.”

“We shouldn’t be talking about this.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because it’s against the rules.” The clip in his tone signalled a warning. Then, an impatient sigh escaped his nostrils. “And you said it yourself: it was a mistake.”

He wasn’t going to look at her. There was no pulling at his attention while he could hide her in his periphery.

“Is that why you’re upset?” She made a quiet move to touch her fingers to his forearm, but he pulled away with a scoff.

“If you’re trying to buy time -”

“Are you frustrated?” Cora pressed on. His shifting had given her enough leeway to get herself between him and the phone, and she took her opportunity, sliding down to kneel between the couch and the coffee table. Directly in front of him. “Knowing what people say about you?”

John finally inclined his head to sneer down at her, but if he had anything he was intending to say, it was silence by the bob of his Adam's apple. A gulp. His breathing was the only audible sound in the room, barring herself; shallow and staggered.

Almost there.

Cora kept her eyes on his. She wouldn’t lie - despite sitting at his feet like this, she could still gauge the power that she held. That while, yes, there was a spark of disappointment that came with watching him ignore her advances, there was also some odd thrill in watching the man who’d made multiple attempts on her life struggle so much. Knowing that, even with her unarmed and kneeling - even with all his connections and soldiers, and everything he'd done to her - he was powerless.

He’d taken her freedom, but she could get that back. She’d compromised his loyalty to dogma. Nearly made the tallied notches on his arm into a lie. He'd have to start again from the ground-up. He'd be middle-aged before he found the same progress.

“Now that I’m atoned. Now that no one’s watching.” She sat up, drawing closer to his thigh, inwardly cursing at his refusal to move away this time. “All that work you put into catching me, and now what? Nothing?”

“Deputy.” John growled, low and dangerous.

“You want this.” Cora concluded, watching the flush of red bloom from beneath his collar and the flex of his jaw while he grit his teeth.

“There are bigger things at stake right now-”

“And even now that you have me, you’re too scared to do anything about it.”

John inhaled a swift breath, averting his gaze. “That’s beside the point.”

“You want this."

“Would you quit it? You’re wrong.”

Finally, the Baptist shoved himself out of the couch, back-stepping several paces until he was half-way across the room. Once he’d gotten himself to a safe distance, he regarded the Deputy once more, gaze cold and angry while she cycled through unknown victory and equally unknown disappointment.

He wasn’t going to be made to give in.

“You haven’t been atoned. Not yet.” John breathed, turning on his heel and marching into the kitchen.

Cora stared at the doorway he'd escaped through. Now was her chance.

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

Okay. He wasn't coming back in a hurry. She'd successfully scared him off.

There was no time to waste.

While the faucet ran in the next room, Cora twisted around, snatching the phone upside down and hastily unclipping the cable from the device. The dial-tone cut to silence. Communication blocked, but cord hooked up to the damn thing was already conspicuous without evidence of tampering. She couldn't just discard the cable.

There was no way John wouldn’t notice its absence when he returned, and so the Deputy did what any effective home invader would do.

She bit down on the cord, close as she could to the adapter, chewing hard until grinding wire snapped between her teeth. When she plugged the cable back in and set the phone straight again, the machine remained dead, but intact.

Good. That'd buy some time.

The radio was next. Rather than switch the device off, Cora tuned it a few notches, finding a dead station and placing it back right where John had left it.

Done.

Sabotage successful. If Joseph had any intention of making a call-back soon, he’d be going unheard. There was no telling how long it would last, but unless the Baptist was stocked on landlines, half of his communications were disabled entirely.

Cora exhaled, inviting in the momentary relief. Being kept here was one thing. Having to be in the same room as Joseph Seed was another dimension entirely.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” She called, rising to a stand and following the Baptist’s trail.

No response.

When Cora entered the kitchen, John was dabbing his neck with wet hands. The moment he sensed her, he grumbled a sharp curse, bracing his hands against the counter to keep from facing her.

“Is this the plan? We just sit and wait?”

His shoulders seized. “...Yes.”

Cora stalked past him, finding a counter of her own to lean against, finding her own patience dwindling. Coiling irritation at the very notion of Joseph having so much sway over the Baptist that he could seemingly halt time.

“So what’s the point in taking me? In bringing me here?” She spat.

“Disregarding our personal rapport, it’s no small matter, having you here.” John ground out. “My family will want to know-”

“Have you tried calling Jacob?”

Something twitched in John's expression. A button, pushed. Dispelled rage.

“The Father will-”

There was no holding back the snarl that brewed in her throat. Hitting its boiling point. He did have that much sway over the man. They were sitting here in stasis, all because of him.

“Are you that fucking sad? We’re stuck here just because you need to hear Joseph tell you how well you did? A whole fucking resistance effort just blew up half of Fall’s End. You caught me. Dozens of people are dying, and all you can do is sit by the phone?” Cora demanded, scowling while his muscles trembled. “Are you serious?!”

“WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE ME DO, CORA?!” John bellowed, head snapping around to fix her in place, eyes blazing. The sheer volume of him froze her to the spot. "Did you assume that you were somehow different from anyone else the Project takes in? That your place here; that you're even alive had anything other to do than Joseph requesting it? Did you think that you'd somehow slipped through every possible crack in the system for any reason beyond this path being carved specifically by the Father? Because, frankly speaking, YOU HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!"

The Deputy didn't reply. She couldn't.

Not that it would've mattered.

John, it seemed, was far from finished.

“You're so selfish. One moment you insist on making your own salvation impossible. The next, you assume you can simply start calling shots." He bit, voice already hoarse from yelling, but with no less poison. "You think I enjoy waiting around for whatever order comes next? That I enjoy you waltzing around my home, eating my food, whining that I'm not doing enough for you? After all the wrath you’ve wrought - after all the death and the destruction - you’re still so fucking entitled to assume that I’d throw aside my loyalty to the Father. All just because you’re here, and not even by fucking choice.”

Cora swallowed, calming the nerves that egged her on to snap back at him. "I didn't - I don't - "

After a moment, the hostility thinned. John's shoulders sagged.

"I know it's not optimal. It might not seem like it, but we're lucky. Things could be a lot worse for both of us, but on Joseph's order, they're not. It's his wisdom that made you being here even possible. So yes; the plan right now is that we sit and wait."

John turned toward her, then. He looked positively miserable.

“What happened last night…can’t happen again.” He explained. “It doesn’t matter that you’re here now. I’m the Baptist. Joseph is my brother. There’s nothing he doesn’t know, and there’s nothing he won’t find out. We need to do everything we can to stay on his good side.”

He did have a point. As much as she wanted John to be the last of her enemies, he was only one of three, and likely the lowest ranked of the Project's leaders. Pushing John to defy a higher power was unwise.

Her job was done, anyway. There was no more need to pursue him. Curiosity didn't matter. Want didn't matter. No meant no.

“Okay.” The Deputy croaked finally, nodding.

John raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” She attempted a smile. "Water under the bridge."

He returned the expression. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Great.”

“Cool.”

They both stood still, watching each other for a long moment.

Then Cora’s heart sank, and she felt herself detach from the counter. John did the same, marching toward her while she advanced on him with equal urgency.

Her fingers found the front of his shirt just as his found her face, and his mouth was on hers in a heartbeat. For all her rationalisations, the blonde reciprocated immediately, clutching him closer, humming into his kiss with a pitch she’d normally find mortifying.

“I’m sorry.” John breathed, hardly breaking away long enough to put the words together before he was kissing her again. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean that."

Cora nodded, barely able to formulate a response against him. Every word she reached for melted on her tongue, completely enraptured by the heat of his mouth and his desperate hands not knowing whether they wanted to grip at her hips or keep cradling her jaw.

She didn’t even know she’d been walked backward until she felt the cold countertop hit the small of her back, and then - much more pleasantly - the warmth of John’s body pressing against her front. She gasped, winding a hand into his damp hair and slipping beneath his shirt with the other, pawing at whatever skin she could access and drawing another one of those pitiful sounds she’d pulled from him last night.

“Wasn’t - ah, fuck,” the Deputy choked, not anticipating the Baptist’s impatience when he dipped his head to kiss her neck, arms coiling tight around her waist, “Wasn’t a mistake.”

"Fuck no." John moaned against her throat, tongue barely darting out to taste her skin. “Won’t hit me this time?”

“Not this time.”

He pulled back then, leaving a half inch of aching dead space between them. Swallowing back a pant and looking at her directly. Like he was weighing up every possible pro and con about this scenario. Cora stilled, trading hesitation with the man, sobering for all but a few fearful seconds.

“If you don’t-”

“Don’t.” John breathed. “Just let me commit this to memory.”

“I mean it.”

“Deputy, you have no idea - how many times I’ve -...how much damage this could do."

Cora shifted under his gaze, searching impatiently to find which direction his resolve would fall. "I can keep a secret."

Amusement tugged at the corner of his mouth, breaking through apprehension.

“You want this.” She murmured.

“God, yes.”

He kissed her deeply, holding her steady through the shiver sent through her as his tongue slid across her bottom lip. Then, as soon as it felt like they were picking back up where they’d left off, he pulled back again. The grin he flashed at her frustration pulled a little noise of protest out of the blonde, and when she chased his mouth, he held her still.

“For the sake of being on the same page,” He began, “you do, too, right?.”

What a ridiculous assertion. What kind of answer was he hoping to gain from that? He already had her consent; did he really need the pride of knowing how badly she wanted this too? It wasn’t even something she’d actively considered, anyway. She’d have to think about-

“Yeah.” Cora breathed, ragged. “Yes.”

John settled into a more comfortable smile, and while the eye contact wasn’t something she could uphold for long, Cora mirrored the expression.

Then, a sigh rolled out of the Baptist. “Thank fucking Christ.”

She didn’t have time to chuckle at that.

His mouth was back on her in a instant.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“What’d I tell you?” Jess hissed, looking Sharky up and down while she waded toward him through torn up asphalt and cement debris. “What’d I tell you about making a fucking idiot of yourself?”

Sharky traded a look with Hurk at that. The man was nearly unrecognizable from all the dust clinging to him.

“I thought we did pretty good.” The arsonist defended.

“The town’s half blown-up, dipshit.”

“We did real good.” Hurk weighed in.

He wasn’t wrong. They didn’t even kill nobody they weren’t supposed to. There’d been bumps in the road, sure, but all in all, things hadn’t been a total disaster. Once you translated that into the kind of situation they were in, total disaster was actually kind of...well, awesome. Especially once the Cougars had arrived.

Sharky hadn’t heard word from over East since they’d left, but things must’ve been mighty fucking boring up there at the County Jail for a whole fucking convoy to come charging through town.

He’d never seen so many baseball jerseys in one place, let alone jerseys toting assault rifles.

There wasn’t any chasing leftover Peggies out of town once they’d shown up. It was a purge so quick and so direct that the blonde understood a little better why Shorty had been so pissed about not getting the extra help earlier.

Everyone had found their way back to each other pretty quick once the chaos had died down. As luck would have it, Kim had been walking Boomer when Eden’s Gate had arrived. She’d managed to get a couple of the general store clerks to safety and found a cattle shed to wait out the fight about a mile up the road.

It might’ve been the adrenaline getting him going, but Sharky could’ve sworn her tits were even bigger than yesterday.

Grace and Mary May reunited quick, but disappointingly did not start making out. Instead, they helped Kim cart Nick and Pastor Jerome off to Dr. Lindsey.

After they’d rounded up any remaining hostages, the team made their way back to Sharky as the stand-in replacement for the Deputy. That part didn’t surprise him. He was best mate, after all...after the dog, at least. The part that did surprise him was that the Cougars seemed to do that same.

Tracey surveyed the wreckage on her way toward the group with Sheriff Whitehorse and that tight-lipped Marshal in-tow.

“Jerome says Stammos got carted out with John’s people.” The woman announced. “They took the road down to the airport.”

“Then unless they’re plannin’ on looping back around, they’re probably headed to the ranch.” Adelaide replied.

“Probably a smart move after last time.” Hurk added.

The Sheriff inclined his head, incredulous. “Last time?”

“Long story.”

Sharky watched the disappointment pass over Whitehorse’s face. Must’ve felt shitty; losing all of his employees to the cult.

“I tried chasin’ ‘em down, Sheriff.” He said.

“And given how you’re dressed, Boshaw, it’s no surprise they were so quick to leave.”

“Okay. Ouch.”

“So what’s the plan?” Jess asked.

Tracey was already turning back around, headed for the truck she’d arrived in. “We keep liberating.” She answered. “Stammos called us to take back the valley, and that’s what we’re going to do.”

“John’s ranch is almost the Southernmost point before the border.” Whitehorse elaborated. “If we do everything right, he won’t have many friends left to help him cross it once he gets word of us coming.”

“Sounds like the same plan as last time.” Adelaide commented.

“No stone unturned.” He affirmed. “Same as last time. Take care of John the same way we took care of Faith and bring our girls home.”

The Marshal, however, didn’t look as happy about that option. Dude always hated taking the long way around. “And what if John’s taken care of your Deputy before we get there?”

Sharky exchanged a look with the others.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

John’s fingers tangled in Cora's hair, hurriedly tugging out the damp tie and wincing when a caught snag caused the Deputy to hiss. “Sorry. Sorry.” He muttered, breathless.

“You’re - you’re certain this is okay.” She huffed against him. If there was any acknowledgement of the apology on her part, it was only in how she clawed at his vest, dragging his mouth back to hers.

“Not at all.”

“What about your -” A gasp briefly did the trick of silencing her, but then: “What about your brothers-”

“Please don’t mention my brothers right now.” John whined.

Cora eyed him. “Door’s locked?”

John stifled a chuckle at that. “No, why would it be?”

Cora eyed him dangerously.

“I’m kidding." He defended. "What, you think I let people walk in and out of here unannounced?"

“Fucking prick.”

“Obviously, I’m kidding. You’re a-aaah…” His retort dwindled when the blonde’s hands slid down his front, stopping short of the hem of his vest and creeping back up to his collar again. He pulled back to glare. “A captive.”

“And you’re sensitive.” She replied, simply.

“7 years is a long time.” John’s own hands fell from her hair, slipping down her sides until she couldn’t feel them anymore. “Not sure how much I can...handle.” That last phrase came cautiously. Awkwardly.

The blonde’s fingers traced back down while she listened, more quizzical than apprehensive at the warning.

To her, that sounded more like a challenge.

"What." John grunted at the smirk that played on her lips.

"Just the audacity of you asking for mercy."

A shiver worked its way out of him when she went lower, ghosting over his hips and then back up again. Deliberately avoiding the ever-insistent graze of an erection against her stomach, sporadically tensing against denim confinement whenever her hands got close. Every reminder of it sending a fresh wave of heat through her.

“Seriously-”

“Mr. Seed, either we carry on like this, or you fuck me. Right now.” The Deputy spoke low, watching the Baptist’s pupils dilate more with each word. “Either way, we’ll find out how much you can handle, but 3 years is also a long time. I’d hate for only one of us to break a streak.”

John stared, dumbfounded.

Then, his hands reappeared, tugging around her waist, wrenching her up and onto the countertop. Her wasted no time pushing her knees apart, drawing near enough between her legs that she could reach for his belt, but not close enough that she could find the friction she was looking for. His fingers pawed her thighs, then gripped hard when her fingertips ghosted over the bulge that impatiently jutted between them.

“Ah. Shit.” He shuddered, folding down to balance his forehead in the crook of her neck, holding onto her like she was the only thing keeping him standing. Cora found that she liked the idea of that. Ten times the amount of experience she had, and yet here he was, barely functional.

She pressed her palm against him, content with the hitch in his breath and the little jerk of his hips. A responding, dulled twitch pressed back. Through the obstruction of clothing, it was impossible to get a sense of him, but biology didn’t discriminate. She wanted him in her.

“Doing good.” Cora murmured against John’s temple, running her fingers through his hair in reassurance while his dug into her thighs in a vice grip.

“So good.” He choked when she slowly began to move back and forth. “So - so good. Feels - ah, fuck - let me -“

Maybe a little too quickly, Cora pulled herself closer to the edge of the counter, tugging John’s unbandaged hand further up her thigh and hoping he’d get the message while she busied herself with his belt.

She knew his smirk too well to mistake it for anything else when she felt him hum against her throat.

John straightened, pulling Cora’s attention back up to him. Lo and behold, he was looking as arrogant as ever; as if he hadn’t just been whining at her mercy. “Deputy, have a little patience.”

“After all that ranting about giving, you sure are selfish.”

“Oh, so you were listening.” He grinned, tracing a thumb back and forth over the junction of her hip. “Tell me, what happened to my little ranger who loved to play by the rules?”

“Hypocrite.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Hurry up.”

John flinched when Cora’s hand shoved beneath his still-fastened pants, palming him through his underwear. He managed to hold strong, though, even if his voice near-cracked. “Or what?”

“Or John Seed’s gonna come in his pants.”

Again, he twitched in her grasp, but his movement remained torturously slow.

Realisation hit the Deputy at his resistance.

He was getting a kick out of this.

He was testing her.

“How crazy does it drive you, not having total, complete control?" He asked. His thumb reached the seam of her pants, almost too light to feel. She still throbbed all the same.

"You're an asshole." Cora growled.

“You know, I always suspected you got off on that.”

“Evidence suggests it might be the other way around.”

“Answer me, Deputy.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’ll do just that if you don’t cooperate.” John tutted at her frustrated ineptitude at deciphering his belt buckle. “Are you really in a position to be calling the shots?”

Cora stopped to consider that, locking to his gaze with a scowl. Why did every interaction with him have to feel like a chess game?

Fine.

Not breaking eye contact, Cora simply pulled her sweater over her head in response.

John’s gaze broke immediately. He tried to recover, but the damage was done. There was no picking his composure back up after the attitude slid from his face and left him with nothing but prying eyes and a slackened jaw.

“Well,” He croaked, “when you put it that way…”

“Help me with this.” Cora urged, still tugging at his belt. He acquiesced immediately, although with the two of them hastily fumbling with the same mechanism, the extra help wasn’t much better. John swore under his breath, pulling out of Cora’s reach while she clicked her tongue. “Does that thing double as a chastity belt?”

“It’s not my fault we have a single functional hand between us.”

“You stabbed me first.”

“For God’s sake - fuck - got it.” John sighed, finally unbuckling the monstrosity, rushing back to the blonde’s reach. She dealt with her own belt while he hurried with his jeans, tattooed fingers shaking. The moment he’d succeeded, his hands flew to her waist, revering bare skin and savouring her impatience for him to touch her where she wanted to be touched.

She would have cussed him out, had his teeth not grazed her lip, refreshing the taste of him with his tongue slipping into her mouth - right as his left hand wriggled it way into her pants and pressed.

Cora saw white for a second. Untouched nerves awakening in a frenzy that had her gasping into that bastard’s mouth. Jesus, she could feel the grin on his face.

“Hm. Hypocrite.” Came the reminder, followed by a strangled noise when her fingers enclosed around his cock; separated still by underwear, but gripping him all the same. His body shoved against her, crushing their arms between them in the attempt to find his way closer - to find more. “Ah - shit. Careful-”

A knock from beyond the kitchen sent a collective jolt through both of them, and John’s head whipped around in a panic.

“W-...what is it?!” He called, voice cracking.

“John, have you got a minute?” A deeper voice Cora didn’t recognise responded from outside.

“Doubt I’ve got more than ten seconds.” The Baptist hissed to himself. “I recall saying emergencies only! Ask yourself - is this something I need to find John for, or can I find my own way?”

Christ. He spoke to his followers the same way she spoke to hers.

“O-okay. Sorry.”

John didn’t reply. He simply turned his attention straight back to Cora, stroking up and down along the material of her underwear. His cock twitched impatiently in her hand, at odds with his leisurely pace. “You’re soaked through.” He taunted, but the tremor in his voice delivered it as a revelation.

Cora’s brow furrowed. She stroked once, sweeping her thumb over the head of him. “Speak for yourself, Baptist.”

A grunt sounded from the man. His hands moved quickly, yanking her to the edge of the counter and gripping at her pants. Tugging the material down and off her legs while he dropped to his knees on the floorboards. The Deputy’s initial instinct to draw herself together and hide from scrutiny was jarred by the way the Baptist gaped between her legs. Like closing them would be some cruel disservice to him. So, she let him stare. Held still while he drew close, dotting a kiss to her knee and shivering when his beard skimmed her inner thigh.

“Thank you for wearing white.” John murmured, stroking a careful thumb over the cotton, leaving only aching want in his wake.

“That a religious thing?” She tried not to croak, raising an eyebrow.

“Not in this circumstance. Just...thought about it.”

“Oh. You just - casually speculated on the colour of my underwear.”

“Something like that.” He continued the action. Back and forth. Up and down. Trying to find the same spot as earlier. For all his enthusiasm, however, he was still out of practice and just as impatient as she was. He’d draw close, but any hitch in her breath pulled his gaze up to her face, searching for praise and losing his place in the process.

When his mouth suddenly descended upon her, though, fingers giving up their place to yank the material to the side and grant him direct access, the Deputy found herself uncomfortably on the complete other end of the spectrum. From not enough, to way, way too much. A squeak shot out of Cora, and her legs clamped shut on John’s skull just as her fingers gripped his hair in an attempt to pry him away from her. Both actions earned a separate “Ow,” from the man.

John pouted up at her. “What?”

“Stand up.” “I like where I am right now.” He protested. “You’re not shy, are you? I want to-”

Cora tugged at him anyway. “I don’t want you to practice on me. I want you to fuck me.”

John blinked. “Okay - not shy.” He pulled himself back to a stand, averting his gaze while she guided his hips back between her legs. “I’m - er - it’s just…-”

He bit back a resigned curse when her fingers circled his erection once again, passing over the noticeable slick of precum on strained cotton.

“Just what?”

“I'd like you to - enjoy it." The admission came. "And I’m not going to last.”

“Good. I'll enjoy that just fine.” Cora replied, earning a questioning look. “Won’t look so smug anymore when you’re coming in record time.”

John's expression darkened at the challenge, but his hands shook as they swatted her away, struggling to manoeuvre the fly of his underwear into just the right position.

Anger was still the quickest way to get through to him.

“Just you wait." He warned. "I’ll-“

She cut him off with a kiss, pulling his hips against her, and his threats evaporated. They were pressed too close for her to see, but his cock grazed the hem of her underwear, finally pulled free. Then, John’s fingers hooked around the material, pulling it to one side.

The Baptist held her gaze, brow upturned like he was worried.

Was he nervous?

“Ready?” He asked.

He looked...kind of pretty like this. Pupils blown. Lips a little swollen. Hair all messed up. Eye-contact wasn't so uncomfortable when he looked this wrecked.

She nodded. "Yeah." The pitch of his gasp matched hers when the head of him slid with dangerous ease along the wetness of her cunt. All she could focus on was the heat of him. The blunt press, drawing closer and closer to her entrance until he was finally lined up. The ache of resisting muscles and relieved nerve-endings when he pushed forward, torturously slow, concentration and bliss fighting for equal real estate on his face, and okay, he was exceptionally pretty like this.

A tiny little 'fuck' crept out of John when Cora sighed at the feeling, insistently encouraging, tugging. She needed more. It wasn't fair. Didn't fucking matter how long for; she just needed to feel him. All of him.

Then, when he was barely two inches in, another knock at the door pulled her out of her stupor.

“John? I spoke to Andy. He says it’s an emergency.”

John froze. Then, his eyes scrunched shut in a long-suffering grimace, and once again, his forehead dropped to Cora’s shoulder. Frustration radiated from him, infecting her within moments.

"Has he been out there the whole time?" She grunted.

"Christ." The Baptist sounded almost amused at that. He pulled back to offer a half-smile.

He had to investigate.

Cora, meanwhile, had no patience for his imminent departure. Her legs locked against his hips, but he was gently prying himself away already, muttering repeated, gasped apologies at her protests.

“I’ll be right there!” He called back, already resetting his belt. “Give me a minute.”

“Are you kidding?” Cora hissed, sliding down from the counter.

“I’ll be 30 seconds. I swear. Then we can - we can go upstairs, and we can stay there. Emergency or not.” John assured her, punctuating his words with kisses wherever he could land them while she struggled to multitask between receiving and yanking her pants back on. Then, he pulled away completely, stumbling out of the kitchen on visibly shaky legs.

Cora took a moment to silently lament before heading back out into the foyer, buckling her belt while she surveyed the space in an attempt to distract herself from impotent fucking rage.

John murmured away with someone outside, half-visible through the gap he’d left in the door. His arms had crossed, but with his back to her, she couldn’t discern his mood any further.

Nonetheless, her concern grew, and when the man said his goodbyes with a nod and entered the building once more, the Deputy found it had good reason to.

John passed through the room, not sparing her a glance. He snatched the radio he’d abandoned on the coffee table, but to her fleeting relief, simply clipped it onto his belt and moved on.

He’d turned pale.

“Hey.” Cora frowned, following him to the trophy cabinet where he began rifling through memorabilia. “What’s going on?”

“We have to leave.” He muttered, unboxing a small case. It rattled as he shook the content into his hand. 38 Specials, most making it to his back pocket, some clinking to the floor, forgotten when he moved on to withdraw his revolver and tucked it into the back of his pants. “Now.”

John continued hurrying about with Cora hot on his heels, unable to really do anything but watch him build a collection of valuables on the dining table. His coat. His keys. A particularly raggedy old bible. He made some effort to conceal the zip-lock bag he pulled from behind the décor on the mantle; definitely the source of the odour that permeated the foyer.

They traded a look - critical on Cora’s part, and John rolled his jaw while he shoved it out of sight, irritated. Perhaps embarrassed.

“Did you know?” He huffed.

“Mr. Seed, I studied in Colorado. I know what a half-bag looks like.”

“Did you know about the Cougars?” John’s voice hardened. “According to the Chosen, there’s one hell of a convoy inbound from the North. Did you know?”

Oh.

Fuck.

“Oh. Fuck.” Cora noted, still too dazed to even bother lying. “I called them in.”

They actually came?

“Wonderful.” John had stopped to run a hand through his hair. “Truly. Thank you.”

“Well sure, but I don’t see what good they’re gonna do you. They’re probably here to-”

“Sarcasm, Cora.”

“That makes more sense."

John started to pace, then, relenting. Dispersing his temper. He tugged the radio from his belt, holding it to his chin. “Joseph, for God’s sake, come in.”

Half a minute passed by. The little curses under John’s breath became more punctuated until his patience thinned. He angled the dial, and then stopped. Examining the station he’d been using, incredulous.

His gaze flickered to her for a split-second, eyes narrowing, and Cora’s stomach coiled.

Shit.

He knew.

She winced while the Baptist strode past her, anticipating his approach to the phone, investigating an absent dial tone and her now-obvious tampering. He turned the machine over, holding up the ruined cord for her to see.

"Your handiwork, Deputy?" The smile that spread over his face was sharp as ever. The mask was back on.

Perhaps this hadn't been her best plan.

She should've let him go down on her when she had the chance.

#dont read these tags until after you've read the chapter ok PROMISE!!#have you finished the chapter yet-#have i filled enough space yet #PSYCH yall thought either of them deserved to get laid yet?#come back for quiet earth part 3: john's day gets exponentially worse aka the asswhoopin #john seed #john seed x female deputy #far cry 5 #far cry 5 fanfic #cora stammos

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peaky-whore · 4 years

Text

What Happens to the Heart • J. Shelby [Part One]

Pairing: John Shelby x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1,656

Warning: None

Summary: You’re the best of friends with John.

A/n: This is in your point of view. Also, I’m sorry is this doesn’t make sense, it will eventually. And there is a memory in here, so that’ll be the italics. Overall, this is just the beginning!

To say John and I were the best of friends would be an understatement, the two of us were inseparable from the day we met; wherever he was, there was no doubt I’d be right by him. Dangerous, or not.

Most of the time, though, folks thought we were in a relationship, something along those lines. Other times, we’d get ourselves into trouble, Polly - my mom also - wouldn’t be pleased to talk us out of jail. To make it short, we’d get smacked in the back of the head by our guardians whilst on the way to Watery Lane, along with lectures on how to behave, I was even told that my actions are not ladylike. They still loved us, I know that much.

Our closeness brought me unexpected feelings for the Shelby boy, and though we told each other everything - from my first kiss to his first fuck - I would never admit how I felt towards him. Especially since he found a girl he fancies. There was no way I was going to break them up, I loved him too much to do something destructive as that.

So there I sit, awaiting his arrival at the Garrison. I couldn’t even order a damn drink without him. But as minutes turned into a half hour, and that an hour, I gave up. He wasn’t coming, Martha probably needed him more than I, but as a good friend, I’m okay with that; as a secret admirer, however, I felt jealous - I just despised the thought of it - upset that he’d ditch me here.

Just as I was going to walk out, here came the handsome, blue eyed man himself. He looked to be panting.

“I’m sorry, Y/n, but Martha kept me. Sit. I have something to tell you.” He explained, hooking his arm with mine and pulling me to a secluded table. The smile he wore was one I have never seen before, so I couldn’t help but follow along and sit across from him.

The news must have been too important for drinks.

He looked at me, a smile still plastered on his flawless face, one that will most definitely be stuck in my mind for days on end. John looked like a little boy, happy that he was told he had good manners and behaviour in school, whilst really, he was quite the opposite. Except the manners, he had those covered.

I rested my arms on the table and leaned forward, impatiently waiting for him to speak. “Oh, get on with it John.” There is no way I’m playing the guessing game tonight.

“Martha, she’s with child. My child. Y/n, I’m gonna be a father.” It felt as if he’d spoken a foreign language, one I couldn’t understand but still heard. I’m sure my expression is surprised, since he waited for me to talk. I simply couldn’t.

Before he started to ask questions, I cleared my throat and threw on a forced smile. “Congratulations, John-boy. You’re a man now, I hope you know.” He let out a playful scoff and an eye roll, making us laugh.

“I’ve always been a man.” He replied, giving a smug smirk at the end. His eyes met mine for a brief moment before looking towards the shelves of liquor behind me. “I think this deserves a drink, eh?” Before I could answer him, he got up, lifted me by the arm and drug me across the nearly empty pub, and ordered us whiskey - an entire bottle to be precise.

This happened until the war broke out, boys across Europe were being sent to fight for their people, or enlisting, including John, and his two elder brothers, Arthur and Thomas. By then, Martha was pregnant with their fourth child, meaning she’d be alone for the birth of their baby girl, or boy. And she was, but Polly, Ada, Finn, and I were present, keeping her company before and after she went into labour.

It’s been four years since the boys left, leaving families behind, I know some won’t be returning, and it breaks my heart just thinking about it. There will be so many mothers, sisters, aunts, and wives without their men. And the ones that do return are going to be stuck with those God awful memories, nightmares.

Since they left, I’ve been the opposite of trouble, I’d actually gone to church with Polly and her little clan, along with Martha and her children. I prayed for the boy’s safety, that included my two elder brothers and the many cousins I have. They all meant the world to me, each of them taught me something valuable, and I couldn’t let the thought of them not coming home get the better of me, so I turned to God. Polly turned me to God.

And because so many unspeakable events happened in these long, devastating four years, all I wanted was my brothers home, and John. How I longed for him.

It must be pathetic to be falling this hard for your best friend - your now best friend’s husband - I hated how much I wanted him for myself. He’s got a beautiful wife, smart and rowdy children, there’s no way I could be that selfish. John has what he always wanted, a family of his own.

What kind of monster would try to take him away from those he cared for and loved? The question was branded into my brain and was beyond hard to ignore.

Tragedy struck when Martha fell ill, her sickness was beyond the doctors, and she was put on bed rest until it was her time to go. I couldn’t face not having her around, she and I became rather close - practically sisters - in the last few years. As time went on, she died peacefully in her and John’s shared home. Their children were heartbroken, they were young but old enough to know what death is.

Since her funeral, Polly put me on nanny duty, knowing she didn’t have time for them and the betting shop, I agreed. During the first few weeks, the children were a mess, throwing tantrums for their mother, refusing any food I cooked and bedtime. They soon got comfortable with me around more, until Polly announced she heard Germany had surrendered and all countries agreed to stop fighting until their negotiation was set.

Although I was still mourning the loss of Martha, I couldn’t be anymore happy that our boys will be coming home to us. The kids were beyond the moon that their dad was returning, and so it was the same thing all over again; they were acting up again, asking for their daddy.

I promised them soon.

Which brought us here, Birmingham train station, with loads of women and children, along with relatives of the men’s families. I held Daniel at my hip, glancing up from him telling me about his day every once in a while to see if the train was near, surely I would hear it if it were nearby.

This morning, early this morning, I would pinch myself to see if this were a cruel dream, or if it were real.

“I hear it!” Exclaimed Ada, her arms draped around Finn’s shoulders, keeping him in place so he doesn’t wander off. She gave a big smile and as if on queue, I heard the horn from a distance.

My heart rapidly pounded against my chest. It’ll be the first time in four years that I’ve seen my brothers. What scares me most is that they’ll be mad at me for not writing and telling any of them about our mother, but she made me promise not too until they got home, so I kept my word.

The train took another five minutes before it stopped in front of us, all our men were soon off once the doors opened. I searched from where I was standing for the two goofs that were my brothers, of course, not like I didn’t expect it, they stepped off with blank expressions; no look of happiness to be home.

I couldn’t help but let my tears flow. They’re not the same boys I grew up with, but men who’ve experienced more than they should whilst on the battlefield. The boys who used to be carefree and adventurous were not the men standing mere feet away from me. I secured Daniel before squeezing through the crowded train station, almost face to face with my older brothers. They looked different but I still recognized their faces.

Their cold gazes met my figure and softened. Immediately, I was embraced by both of them, sobbing onto their uniforms in no time.

“Is . . . is this real?” I asked frantically, not wanting them to disappear if I were to let go of them. They let out light chuckles and nodded.

“I’m afraid so, little sister, you can’t rid us that easy.” Mason jokes, trying to lighten up the mood, I could see his eyes searching for someone. Our mum. How am I going to tell them? It’ll be more difficult than I thought now that they’re here.

Andrew looked down at Daniel, his eyes lighting up. “Got yourself a bloke I see. Hope he’s treated you well whilst we were away.” He started to make silly faces at the boy in my arms, causing him to giggle. I shook my head, tightening my hold on him so he wouldn’t accidentally fall.

“He’s a sweetheart, but if you look closely, the boy resembles a Shelby. I’ve taken on the care of Martha and John’s lovely children since she died.” They looked at me like I sprouted two heads. “Yeah. Almost a year ago. Pestilence.”

But before another word was spoken, I was being embraced by someone else. Someone oddly familiar. Nonetheless, I wrapped my arms around them, feeling a sudden warmth, one I’d been missing more and more as the years went on.

“John.”

•••

If you enjoyed reading this, please leave a like, reblog, or comment! Feedback is welcome!

#j. shelby #john shelby #peaky blinders #john shelby x reader #john shelby x you #peaky blinders fics #my work

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omgthatdress · 5 years

Text

How to make Cats a good movie.

I watched Cats, and once I got over the initial horror, I was actually pretty entertained and found myself enjoying the shit out of it. Like god bless it, for as nightmare-inducing as much as it was, Tom Hooper was clearly *committed* to his vision and you gotta give him credit for that. The scenery was actually really beautiful and the cinematography was frequently breathtaking. Like it really did have a lot of elements that really worked for it. But for every bit of genius, there was something terrible that the movie just couldn’t overcome. So let’s dive in.

First of all, you kind of have to understand Cats: the musical. It’s an adaptation of poems that T.S. Elliott of nihilistic lost generation fame wrote for his godchildren about cats. And the poetry is charming af and totally captures the nature of cats and why they’re so lovable. In the in the 1970s, Andrew Lloyd Webber did a shit ton of cocaine and decided to make a musical out of these poems. As a result, Cats has no plot. It’s a bunch of cats singing their songs about who they are and doing a lot of dancing. The thinnest of narrative devices is created with the “jellicle” ball and the deciding of which cat gets to ascend to heaven or some shit. So yeah. Cats is actually pretty controversial among theater nerds, it’s very much a you either love it or hate it thing. Is it stupid? Yes. Is it going to make everyone happy? No. Does it lend itself well to film adaptation? fuck no. I get the feeling that Tom Hooper was really going for deep, meaningful poetic cinema here and trying to make another Les Mis (which was way overly long and ultimately sank under its own sheer weight as a movie and probably is better viewed as a play). I’m operating under the assumption that Hooper was going for ground-breaking cinema that would have made millions and swept up during awards season and cemented him as a legendary director and gone down in movie history, because every little detail of Cats is clearly meant for maximum impact. You kind of need to drop all expectations going into Cats, so once you’re there, you can have fun with it. So how do you make it a good film?

1. The HORRIBLE hyper-realistic cgi human-cat hybrids. YES, it’s a technical marvel, and the CGI artists who made it all deserve a ton of credit for the work they did. And I understand why the actors were kept in their human shapes: live dance is a huge part of what makes Cats work. One of the smart decisions made was hiring theater veterans for the filler roles in the cat chorus, so when you have the choreographed numbers, it’s really spectacular. It’s just the end result was way too uncanny valley and bizarre for any of the film’s good parts to ever rise above it. I think a minimalist approach would have actually worked best. Cat ears and simple costumes with clean lines that show off the dancer’s bodies. Go for the suggestion of cats, and kind of let the viewer’s imagination take over, and showcase the cat’s personality. A huge part of what I enjoyed was hearing the poetry and imagining these cats and how they all relate to cats I’ve known. The dance and the music helped heighten this experience, but hybrids kept reminding me of the joke: what do you get when you cross a human and a cat? An immediate cessation of funding and a stern rebuke from the ethics committee.

2. The schlocky, honestly amateurish attempts at slapstick humor. I’m gonna come out and say it and say that Hooper is pretty deeply entrenched in *dRaMa* and has no sense of how comedy works. There was a lot of added in comedic bits from Rebel Wilson and James Corden, and it was honestly terrible. I mean really, a crotch hit? That kind of lowbrow comedy is so crude and base that it’s actually really hard to pull it off well. Slapstick comedy actually lends itself to the whimsical tone, and slapstick done well can be utterly sublime, but Cats seemed satisfied that fat people falling over is the height of comedy and should be left at that. And a second note on the comedy? Weirdly fat-shame-y. A saw a post about how odd it is to see James Corden, who has been very frank about how he’s struggled with dieting and come to accept that his body is fat and can’t be made not fat, playing this role where fat is added to his body, his CGI vest strains at the buttons, and he’s literally stuffing his face with garbage. The theme of fat people as lazy, stupid, and slovenly carried over from Rebel Wilson’s role, in which she also plays a fat lazy cat who is leaned on heavily for comic relief. I know the role is about a fat cat, and gently laughing at a fat lazy cat who loves to eat is fine, but, speaking as a fat person myself, this felt like a gleeful exploitation of a nasty and cruel stereotype. James Corden and Rebel Wilson are both extraordinarily funny people who happen to be fat, and their comedic gifts were tremendously mis-used here, reducing them to simply two fat bodies to be laughed at.

3. Jennifer Hudson. She’s a talented actress who can sing and emote like a motherfucker. And emote she did. She was clearly GOING for that second Oscar. I really don’t want to call her performance bad. The same level of emotion, tears running and snot flowing, in another movie, would have been devastating (Hello, Viola Davis in Fences). But this isn’t Fences, it’s fucking Cats. You need a level of character depth and development that Cats doesn’t afford to make those tears hit. All the crying and misery was an odd maudlin and over-dramatic break in the fun and whimsy. With a subtler performance and a hint of self-awareness, it could have actually brought in an emotional anchor for this light-as-air film, but Cats doesn’t make any attempt at nuance, and as a result the scenes just hit you out of nowhere like a load of bricks.

4. Francesca Hayward. Okay, before we go anywhere, I want to say that this girl is not un-talented. She’s the principal ballerina of the Royal Ballet, and has a very long list of ballets that she’s lead in. So it makes sense that she’d be hired for a role that’s primarily ballet. This girl is a really really great DANCER. But Cats was clearly trying to make an A-list actress out of her. They tried to make her into Florence Pugh, who has been acting for a while and is blowing up right now because she’s very talented. Like everything about Francesca’s role in the film said “This is a star-making role.” A new song was written just for her to sing as an addendum to Cats’s show-stopping signature song. But the song was just okay, it didn’t carry nearly the emotional weight or all-around beauty of “Memories,” and all in all felt wedged-in and totally unnecessary and really just felt like a grab at that “best original song” Oscar. Francesca’s voice is high, thin, and child-like. It’s not unpleasant, but next to the richness and depth of Jennifer Hudson’s voice, it crumbles, and it’s not the sort of voice that I want to seek out to listen to over and over again. As for her overall performance, she largely keeps the same look of wide-eyed wonder throughout her numerous close-ups, so much so that I found myself thinking of the the MST3K “dull surprise” sketch. But I don’t know if that’s really entirely her fault. There was an attempted romantic storyline with the magic cat, but again, because of the nature of Cats and its lack of real character development or depth, the chemistry fell flat. There really isn’t much of a chance to show off a lot of dramatic range, so to keep going back to her character, it kept reinforcing the one-notedness of her performance. Really, I just kept wanting to see Francesca dance. Ironically, I think they really blew an opportunity trying to make an A-list actress out of her. All she really need to make people want to see more of her is one spectacular dance number, but for some reason, she never really gets that show-stopping moment.

5. Dignity? I guess this goes back to the whole CGI cat thing, but there were a lot of moments when I felt this tremendous wave of second-hand embarrassment hit me on behalf of the talented actors in this film. Watching Gandalf lap up milk from a saucer was a wholly uncomfortable experience, like come on, grant the great Ian McKellan some fucking DIGNITY here. Which goes back to whatI said earlier that a suggestion and interpretation of cats would have worked better than all-out just being a cat. Or it could again just be how much Cats just fails its attempts at comedy. But then again there was no fucking reason at all for Idris Elba to be that fucking NAKED. I guess they were trying to make him sexy? But his sexy smolder and just being Idris Elba wasn’t enough they had to make sure that we all saw his chiseled pecs and thick thighs. And then at the end when he’s dangling off of the rope of a hot air balloon and what’s supposed to be a funny scene, I think, I kept thinking “I’m so sorry this is happening to you, Idris.”

There’s a bunch of other small, nit-picky things that I could go into. Those cockroaches would have worked so much better if they weren’t humans with an extra set of arms. Watching them get eaten was some horror movie shit. Taylor Swift’s Macavity song would have worked a lot better if the cat chorus full of cats we’ve gotten to know had sung it, but instead Taylor Swift is brought in as a new cat we don’t know whose only purpose is to sing the Macavity song? but of course a big oscar-bait movie needs to have that pop star that draws in the people who wouldn’t otherwise see it and making her a part of the cat chorus would have had her performing throughout the whole movie and she would have floundered the way pop stars tend to do when performing musical theater around a bunch of musical theater actors. So I guess I get why she was thrown in.

So.... yeah? Is there anyone else who found themselves enjoying it in spite of everything? I’m glad I have dogs and didn’t have to watch this mess with actual cats around me.

#Cats 2019 #Cats

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deus-ex-knoxina · 5 years

Text

au where andrew and aaron are wymack’s sons

okay tilda USED to be less of a disaster

like in canon, wymack doesn’t know he has kids. he and tilda split up only a few weeks after she got pregnant, so he was long gone by the time she even knew. it’s not like they were exclusive, either. while it’s a gut punch to learn andrew and aaron’s last name, and what happened to their mother, he figures they can’t be his.

of course, andrew and aaron don’t know either. but you know who does? riko, and by extension kevin

riko’s goal in recruiting andrew is a lot more specific now. instead of just ‘get a really good goalkeeper with a reputation’, it’s ‘get the really good goalkeeper with a reputation so he doesn’t sign with the foxes’.

of course, knowing wymack was their father would probably make the twinyards less inclined to sign with him, not more, but riko doesn’t know that. he doesn’t know them very well at all, and andrew has decided to keep it that way

(riko’s fatal mistake, again, is not recruiting aaron as well. if he had tried, then maybe andrew would have agreed-- or not. if he had tried to recruit nicky too, he probably would have stood a decent chance.)

wymack recruits andrew, aaron, and nicky, with absolutely no idea that he’s related to them, and they accept. riko gnashes his teeth.

he does so even more once they play the foxes that year. the ravens win, of course they do, but andrew aims shots at riko’s head, when he can. just a little reminder to that thick skull that andrew minyard personally dislikes him (as opposed to the general apathy he treats the rest of the population with)

when kevin runs to the foxes after the winter banquet, it’s not because wymack is his dad, because he’s not. it’s because wymack managed to snatch the minyards right out from under riko’s nose and keep them away from him, and if he can do that, then maybe he can keep kevin safe too

(he does. wymack wouldn’t be able to bear otherwise.)

and for a while, that’s how it stays. for a long time, actually. the year goes on. neil gets recruited, and the foxes’ futures start to look up. seth dies and andrew gets sent to easthaven and they look down again, and neil goes to evermore for winter break, and riko does not reveal anything. he bides his time.

(when wymack comes to get neil from the airport, neil is struck by how big wymack is. he’s not that tall-- he’s not short, but kevin and nicky and matt are all taller than him-- but he’s strong and sturdy.)

kevin, who knows the secret about wymack and the twins, has already catalogued all the similarities he can find between them. he’s had a lot of time to do so.

the reveal doesn’t happen until the final game. riko waits until he’s close enough to andrew to score, then right as he’s lining up his shot, he says, ‘you know, i was surprised when you signed with daddy dearest over there.’

andrew doesn’t dignify that with a response. if riko wants to play mind games, he can do so by himself. he does do his best to aim the ball at riko’s ankle. it ricochets off the wall, though, because riko is one of the few players good enough that andrew actually has to try to control the ball around him.

riko figures maybe he didn’t get through to andrew, or maybe andrew’s just obtuse, so that’s what he starts with next time he’s within earshot. ‘oh, didn’t you know wymack’s your dad? how does he feel about that car crash of yours?’

andrew grits his teeth, but he stays the course. he doesn’t need riko yelling about family history to aaron next, because aaron might hit him and then who knows what’ll happen. they can’t afford to lose a player.

that surprises him-- because what does he care how the game ends? but it matters, because to take riko out, they need to beat him at his own game, literally.

andrew does pick up on riko saying something to kevin before the next serve, and kevin stealing worried looks at andrew for the next five minutes.

well, then.

they make it through the game. andrew hisses at the other foxes to keep riko away from aaron, and for once, they don’t ask questions.

and they win.

andrew breaks riko’s arm, and then he says, calmly like he hasn’t spent the past twenty minutes contemplating it, ‘hm, at least my dad wants me.’ because he doesn’t know if riko is telling the truth (and he plans to find out from kevin), but he does know it would be an absolutely devastating comment, and andrew is all in favor of those.

and he also knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that wymack wants him, at least on the foxes if not in wymack’s personal life. wymack signed him and has dealt with all his shit and has bought him expensive whiskey in exchange for playing like he means it. wymack wants him around, which is more than riko can say about his father.

when they get off the court, andrew lets neil lean on him, but he finds kevin and asks, ‘what did he say to you?’

kevin looks at neil, exhausted but alert, and then at aaron over by the vixens, and then at wymack, and then finally back at andrew, and andrew has his answer. ‘so it’s true.’ and kevin nods.

and andrew decides he’s going to deal with that later. right now, he’s tired, and he wants to talk to bee before doing anything, just to figure out what to do, and at the moment kevin needs to go away and andrew needs to find a place to sit down because his legs are tired and neil, for all his running at ass o’clock in the morning, is too exhausted to even ask prying questions.

so he turns and walks out of that conversation, and neil follows, and andrew feels ready to eat ice cream and play video games for a week without a single mention of exy.

he doesn’t need to tell kevin to keep aaron in the dark for now, he’s pretty sure. kevin wouldn’t do something so instigating without a kick in the ass, and with aaron staying with matt now, there are way fewer chances for it to just slip out.

he talks to bee, and he talks to neil, and their methods are incredibly different but their suggestions are, funnily enough, the same. neil would probably be mortified to hear that revelation so andrew is saving it for a rainy day.

so he follows their advice, and he tells aaron, and aaron kicks a chair over but then he just stares at andrew for a second and then goes into his room and slams the door behind him. sulking is fine. aaron sulks, and then he gets over it, or at least fit to be in public again. this is something andrew knows about him. and he waits, and eventually aaron texts him a simple ‘what are we going to do’

and that’s how they find themselves driving to wymack’s the next saturday, music blasting in the car, but isn’t it funny how andrew can still hear the silence between them?

they’re better than they used to be, which is how andrew knows that this silence is something they both need, to steel themselves for the conversation they’re about to have. he parks the car, and turns off the radio, and they sit there for at least a minute before aaron says, ‘no deals. we tell him and that’s it.’

‘that sounds like a deal,’ andrew points out, just to be a shit, and aaron rolls his eyes at him but says, ‘no new deals with wymack. we don’t need one. he’s already got our contracts and you’re off your meds.’ and andrew agrees.

they get out of the car together, and they walk up to wymack’s apartment together, and aaron knocks before andrew can get his keys out but honestly, now that he thinks about it, aaron’s probably right. wymack should know they’re here and make the decision to let them in.

he does, and he raises an eyebrow when he sees who it is, but he doesn’t comment on them knocking because maybe he can feel the heaviness in the air, and he closes the door behind them and says, ‘what?’

that’s something andrew appreciates about wymack. he’s direct. which is why andrew says, ‘so did you know you’re our father, or did tilda keep that a secret too?’

wymack’s face drains of color and aaron says, ‘andrew,’ but he leaves it at that.

they stay at wymack’s for a long time, and andrew nabs a bottle of whiskey before they go, just to make sure wymack knows that he’s still the same person. if he really cared he’d get a lock for his liquor cabinet.

when they’re in the car, before they leave, aaron says, ‘what do we say to the rest of the team?’

andrew honestly hadn’t considered that. bee and neil and aaron and wymack and kevin all know, which is already a lot of people. probably nicky will have to be told at some point, and so will abby. he’s going to tell renee at some point. does it matter if the others know?

he voices that aloud, and aaron says, ‘i don’t know, but wymack might appreciate not having to keep it a secret.’ and that’s true. so they decide, because they’re both assholes, to wait for dan’s next full team mandatory bonding night

(wymack, still up in his apartment, is upset. not because of what they told him but of what it means-- if tilda had just told him, or if they’d split up a few weeks later, then he could have taken the twins, he absolutely would have taken the twins, and he could have prevented so much of the darkness in their lives. and it hurts, too, to know that tilda herself was responsible for a lot of that darkness. but that’s not what happened. and he’s pragmatic. he’s tried to help them ever since they signed with him and he doesn’t know how much success he’s had but they are doing better now than they were. he can try to keep that going, and he will keep that going. they deserve that.)

the mandatory bonding night happens a week later, everything is going great, occasionally people are raising eyebrows at how long andrew is staying because usually he leaves as soon as possible but whatever, and then kevin gets up and says he’s going to bed and like they planned (the plan was to wait until right before the first person leaves, so they can get everyone at once and also scatter), aaron immediately goes hey, kevin, wait, one last thing

and kevin is very, very prepared for this to be something stupid and/or incomprehensible, but he waits, and aaron says, ‘i just thought you should know that since wymack’s me and andrew’s dad that means you’re not the only son of exy anymore’

there’s a two second pause while people register what he said and then everyone loses their SHIT. allison is shrieking, nicky is just running around the room from person to person yelling in their faces, neil is laughing his ass off, dan looks like she really isn’t sure whether to believe him or not, and matt’s just kinda catatonic

eventually, dan decides to believe them and let it go. she doesn’t know the details, but their relationships with each other, the team, and wymack have all improved over the last year. if she gets in their faces right now about being assholes (as much as she wants to do just that), all their progress might be ruined.

and then andrew (and aaron, once he catches on) spends an entire practice calling wymack ‘male ancestor’ and dan figures they’ll be alright

she’s proved right later on, as the twins don’t take that long to get used to the idea of someone who’s already proved he’s on their side over and over being a part of their crafted family. it’s unorthodox and andrew definitely continues to steal alcohol but wymack locks the liquor cabinet and gives him a copy of the key, which seems like a completely futile exercise but keys are important, and keys given by someone else are even more important.

#my posts #twinyards #david wymack #aftg

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the-great-imagines-of-1812 · 4 years

Text

Through The Years pt. 5 (Bucky Barnes x fem!Stark! Reader)

A/N: feedback is appreciated, as always!

the tags: @the-romanian-is-bae @a-girl-who-loves-disney

the warnings: torture (nothing too intense, but still.), explosions, wounds, captivity, angst, fluff at the end.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NOVEMBER 3RD, 1943.

KRAUSBERG, AUSTRIA. A HYDRA BASE.

4:00 HOURS.

“Vake up! Vake up!” Was the first thing you heard when you woke up, laying strapped down on a cold metal table, in a dark room, with a light shoved right in your face. A thick German accent.

Oh no.

You tried to open your eyes to the best of your ability, albeit they still hurt and your whole body stung with pain beyond imaginable. “Hurry up!”

A harsh slap to your face.

If this didn’t make you open your eyes, you feared what was next. As you opened them, the light which was once harsh on your face now illuminated a good part of the room. Despite the pain in your neck, you were able to turn your head and see-

Bucky.

No. You wouldn’t let them hurt him. “Bucky, baby please- are you okay?” you were able to say through tears, feeling a sob on it’s way. He doesn’t seem to hear you at first. It’s as if he’s blanked out on reality, in another world. He then proceeds to snap out of it, turning his head to you. He too is strapped to the table.

He lets out a cough before letting out a relieved breath. “Doll, hey.” he seems to lose his breath for a second. “I won’t let them hurt you, darlin’. I promise.”

“I should be saying that Barne-”

“SILENCE! Project Survival has begun.” the man said. Turning your head as much as the pain allowed you to, you were able to catch a glimpse of him. He was an average height, with some hair on his head and round glasses.

Arnim Zola. The one and only right hand man to Johann Schmidt. You had heard about him before, while in several briefings with Erksine. That was now in the past. He was no longer a name and a photograph. He was a reality.

Laying your head back once again, you thought of Howard. What would he do without you? Would he be able to rest at night knowing this is how you met your end?

No. You couldn’t. As he said, many more birthdays to celebrate.

Shifting uncomfortably under your armor and clothes, your breathing picked up and went short as Zola rolled a table between you and Bucky, full of bottles and syringes, scissors and scalpels.

He fills a syringe up with a blue liquid from a bottle. He then proceeds to shine it in the light. “Who shall go virst, hmm? The lady-” he looks at you. “Or ze gentleman?”

“NO! i won’t let you hurt her. Give it to-” Bucky said, desperately; his eyes darting between you and Zola.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Barnes, I thought you knew better. Ladies first, is that not correct?”

Zola then proceeds to walk over to the end of your table with your head on it, grabbing it by the chin and setting it straight so it won’t move.

“Just a little zomehting, hmm?” a pause. “To enhance that little ability of yours.”

Bucky’s eyes widen. “W-What ability, sweetheart? What’s he talking about?”

There are no more words from any three of you and Zola plunges the needle into your neck in such a harsh manner, making you scream and causing your whole body to thrash. It causes your whole body to go numb and a pounding headache to arise.

The last thing you hear before you black out is Bucky yelling a “NO!” and Zola laughing.

This was going to be a long day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NOVEMBER 3RD, 1943.

KRAUSBERG, AUSTRIA. A HYDRA BASE.

12:00 HOURS.

You wake up slowly and easily this time, the sunshine on your face. The room was quiet this time. No Zola, no harsh light in your face. Just a numb body and a migraine.

The straps didn’t hurt anymore, for some reason.

You turned your head to see Bucky, also waking up from his -chemical- induced sleep. “What’d they do to you, Buck?” He turns his head. The tear marks are evident on his face. He sighs.

“More like what didn’t they do? I feel awful.”

This brought tears to your eyes. “My feet hurt so much. I can’t feel much else. It’s pretty numb. Buck. I’m scared.” He stares back at you, tears welling up in his eyes. All he wanted was to keep you safe. If it were up to him, he’d whisk you off to Brooklyn, right now. Maybe you could meet his Ma, Rebecca too. You could be the best of friends.

He would take you dancing, after you’d both reveal the relationship to Howard. He’d be mad at first, but then able to see eye to eye with you. he would dress in his tailored navy blue suit, only one he had. Oh, and you’d be wearing that stunning sky blue dress you told him about once, with a red lip and victory curls. Absolutely beautiful.

He thought about it more. He’d pick you up exactly at 9′o’clock, your brother greets him at the door. You’re still getting ready, and Howard reluctantly invites him in. You’d eventually come down the stairs, a little bit out of breath, but stunning nonetheless. Howard is happy, but he’d never show it in front of Bucky.

You’d dance cheek to cheek. He brings you home exactly at 10:30, like Howard instructed demanded. He’d kiss just your cheek, knowing Howard is probably watching, probably holding a bat. Made of wood. Or maybe metal. Or maybe both. You’d go up to your room after saying goodnight. You’d put on a nightgown, and just before putting your hair in rollers you’d hear him climbing up the fire escape to give you a proper kiss, just as Howard walks in with the bat in hand, ready to shoo him off.

It would be perfect, albeit a bit chaotic. But there be peace and no pain, and that’s what mattered.

The tears stream down his face. “Darlin’, what was he talking about? What ability? Enhance what?”

Your eyes start to tear up as well. “I’m sorry! I was so scared!” You break and before you know it, you’re crying so much it shakes the table.

“Doll, you don’t have to tell me now-”

“I want to. I should’ve a long time ago. It’s called Telekinesis. I can move objects with my mind, if I focus. But it’s still hard sometimes. I don’t know what he did to me!”

“Hey, sugar. Oh, my love. It’s alright. We’re going to be just fine, I promise ya. Just close those eyes for me. I’ll still be here when you wake up, alright?”

Nodding, you laid your head back and relaxed, as much as you possibly could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NOVEMBER 3RD, 1943

THE ALLIED POWERS’ BASE, ITALY.

19:00 HOURS.

The thunder was as loud as gunshots and could probably be heard all the way in Spain. But the rain made the mood all the more bitter as Steve sat drawing in a little sketchbook.

“Hello Steve.”

Steve, hearing Peggy, turns around. She seems sad, tear marks on her face. “Hi. What are you doing here? Is everything okay, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She quickly wipes her face with her hands. “Officially, I’m not here at all.That was quite the performannce.”

Dodging his head back to the ground, “Yeah. I had to improvise a bit. Most of the crowds are a bit - are a bit more.. twelve-.” He looks back up at her. “But you’re dodging the question. Are you ok?”

“Schmidt sent forces out to Azzano. There were two-hundred men went up against him, led by newly appointed Lieutenant General Y/N Stark. Less than fifty returned. Your audience contained what was left of the 107th. The rest where either killed or captured, we don’t know.”

Steve’s heard perks up. “The 107th?”

Both hiding under Peggy’s coat, they ran to General Phillip's tent under the rain. They walk in to a frantic man, talking to the General so fast, he might just run out of words.

“Captain Andrews, I’ll need you to calm down.” he turns to Peggy and Steve “Ah, the Star-Spangled man with a plan. What’re you up to?”

“I need the casualty list from Azzano. I just need one name-”

“You’re not one to give me orders, son.”

Both men are interrupted by Captain Andrews. “Excuse me sir, my name is Tommy Andrews. I-I’m a Captain, I serve in Lieutenant General Stark’s Company.”

Steve looks at him with a range of emotion on his face. “Hello, Captain. What can you tell me?”

Tommy takes a deep breath to calm himself before continuing. “We had just set up camp in Bordeaux, resting up before invading Azzano. It wasn’t time yet. but we were too late, and we were ambushed. The Lieutenant General told me to run away with as many men as I could. Told me to contact General Philips. Both the Lieutenant General and your friend, Sergeant Barnes were captured. I’m sorry.”

Steve shook his head. “There’s no need to be sorry, Captain. You did what was right, following your orders.” he turns to General Phillips.

“Since when is Stark a Lieutenant General? When did he-”

“She. His sister. Not him, Rogers.” General Phillips cut him off.

“But how-. Look. just give me their names. Tell me their alive. B-A-R-N-E-S and S-T-A-R-”

“I’ve signed more condolence letters than I care to count. Her brother is devastated. But Barnes does sound familiar. I’m sorry, son.”

“General, but what about a rescue mission?”

“They are 30 miles behind enemy lines. In some of the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. Possibly in the world. We’d lose more men than we’d save. You wouldn’t understand, chorus girl.”

“I understand just fine.”

“Then go understand somewhere else. From what I know, you’ve got somewhere to be in 30 minutes.”

“I do.”

Phillips starts to say something, but Steve already took off, Peggy behind him.

While he’s putting on a jacket and helmet, Peggy asks “Are you insane?! What’re are you going to do, walk to Austria? And as the General said, they’re probably dead!”

“These are my friends, Peggy!”

“You don’t think I- Y/N’s been my best friend since secondary school. She’s the older sister I always wished I had! It like losing family, Steve!”

Steve walks out of the tent, loading his stuff in the car. “You told me before I was meant for more than this. Did you mean that?”

There’s a silence as the pair stare into each others eyes. “Every word, Steve. But let me help you.”

~~~~~~~

On the plane, Peggy is showing Steve a map, where he’s supposed to be headed. “The HYDRA camp is in Krausberg, between these two mountains.”

“We should be able to drop you off right at their doorstep.” Howard said from the cockpit, in a cold tone.

“Just get me as close as you can. Howard, how are you holding up?”

“Listen here Rogers. You don’t talk about her, don’t think about her. You didn’t know her like I did.”

“Sir, with all due respect, she was my friend-”

“WELL SHE WAS MY SISTER! She was all I had left. Now if you don’t bring back her Company and ease that poor Captain Andrews’s soul, I will make sure the rest of your life is miserable.”

There’s a sad silence throughout the plane. Peggy speaks up. “Stark is the best civilian pilot I’ve ever seen. He’s brave enough to man this airspace. We’re lucky to have him.”

Gunshots are heard, and the trio knows they’ve arrived at the destination. Steve approaches the door, ready to jump out. “When I land, you turn this thing around and go back, understood?”

“You can’t give me orders!”

“Like hell I can, I’m Captain!”

~~~~~~~~

NOVEMBER 3RD, 1943.

KRAUSBERG, AUSTRIA. A HYDRA BASE.

20:00 HOURS.

“Bucky-Bucky, wake up!” you say, trying to get him to open his eyes. He does, but once again stares off into space. Once he hears you crying, he turns his head. “Hi. Are you okay? How much does it hurt, sweetheart?”

“It’s almost nothing. Something is different, although. I can feel it.” you said, through sobs.

“We’re gonna be alright. You know that, right?”

You take a deep breath and nod. “You think we’re gettin’ out of here?”

“We can only hope.”

You close your eyes and tilt your head back as gunshots are heard outside, and someone running down the corridor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the narrow corridor, Steve hears a groan and cries from the ‘operating’ room the soldiers had told him about. Looking both ways before going in, he enters the room slowly, with caution. As he pears in further, he sees to people strapped to tables. He make his way closer to them, and there laying there-

Bucky, Bucky and you.

He walks over to undo the straps on Bucky’s body. “Hey, Hey Buck, it’s me.”

Bucky is able to focus his eyes on Steve “Hey. Steve”. Laying a hand on his shoulder, Steve whispered “I thought you were dead.”

“And I thought you were smaller. Please, I need to help her, Stevie. She’s hurting.”

Realizing who he’s talking about, he walks over to you, laying conscious on the table and undoing the straps. You come to and turn to see Steve and Bucky.

The crackle on gunshots is heard outside. The three of you flinch.

You are able to support yourself a bit better now. “Steve, hi. How are you doing? You ok?”

“Stark, I should be the one asking you that. Let’s get out of here.”

“Stevie, how do you two know each other? What happened to you?”

“I joined the army, all thanks to her and her Howard Stark.”

“You’ll have to tell me about it later.. Did it hurt? Is it permanent?”

“Only a little Buck. And yes, permanent so far. I hope it is.”

Coming from outside, the three of you hear an explosion, causing the three of you two walk down the hallway as quick as possible. You make it to the bridge above the power plants, and the three of you climb to the top, hoping to find an escape route, and quickly.

But like everything else today, it didn’t go as planned, as a thick German accent cut through the air. “Captain America! How exciting! I am a great fan of your films!” Schmidt said, being followed by Zola.

You whimper in fear, and as Bucky hears this, quickly tucks you into his side, stroking your hair in an attempt to calm you down. “Y/N Stark! I am a very very big fan of your work! Hydra would be blessed to have someone like you.”

Schmidt turns to Steve again. “So, looks like Dr. Erksine managed it after all. Not exactly an improvement, but impressive. I have to give it to him.”

Steve then proceeds to wack Schmidt across the face with his shield, which results in him knocking Steve back with a swift punch. Now on opposite sides of the bridge, Zola pushed a button that made both sides seperate from one another.

“You see, no matter what lies Erksine told you-”

You cling to Bucky in fear.

“I was his greatest success!” Schmidt then proceeds to take the skin off his face, to reveal a new, bald, red skull. “You pretend to be a simple soldier, Captain. But you refuse to admit that we’ve left humanity behind! Unlike you, I choose to embrace it proudly. Without fear!” Zola and Schmidt then proceed to go into an elevator, that carried them far away from the two of you.

There are more explosions from below, and Steve leads you both to climb another set of stairs. On this bridge, you encounter a narrow beam made of iron. The only thing separating you from the other side. “Okay one at a time.”

Steve looks between the two of you. “Y/N you first, please.” You shake your head. “I’ll be able to make it anyways. I have the serum. It’s in my blood.”

“That’s a story for another time. Bucky, i guess it’s you then.”

“No! I can’t just cross to the other side and leave here here!”

“Bucky, please just do it! I’ll be fine.” He proceeds to give you a quick peck on the lips and Steve helps him mount the beam. The beam creaks and falls down as he walks, but luckily he jumps just in time.

“Go on Buck! Get out of here!” you yell.

“No! Not without you guys!”

You back up to the side as Steve makes a brave jump across the bridge. That only leaves you on the platform. “C’mon! You can do it! I Know you can!”

Taking a deep breath, you unbutton your uniform coat, revealing the chest plate of your armor. Whipping out a sword, you throw it to the other side and jump.

The sword catches you in mid air, as one hand stuck to the railing. Steve and Bucky help you up.

“Let’s get out of here, boys.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

NOVEMBER 4TH, 1943

THE ALLIED POWERS’ BASE, ITALY.

9:00 HOURS.

“I took a chance on you, Agent Carter. Now not only is America’s golden boy dead, but my Lieutenant General too. All because you had a crush.” General Phillips said.

“It wasn’t that, General. I believed in him.”

“I hope it’s a comfort to you when they shut this division down, Agent.”

Outside, there were a bunch of soldiers running. Not from, but to. “What in the hell is going on out there?” General Philips seemed to ask himself, as he made his way outside, Peggy following him.

There marching right beside Steve, were you and Bucky. The 107th had gone through hell, and made it back alive. Soldiers started cheering and clapping, approaching the group. There was even one who exclaimed “Look who it is!”

Howard hears all the commotion from his tent and goes outside to see what’s going on. He stands behind Peggy, hoping to catch a glimpse of what caused so much ruckus in the once silent base. It couldn’t be. You were supposed to be dead.

“General Philips, these men need medical attention.” said Steve, as you and Bucky stood at his side. Your turn to Bucky. “Told you we’d make it out, darlin’?”

“Maybe I should trust you more, Buck. Thank you.” You said as he locked his eyes with your own, wrapping his arm around you. “You better. I plan on having you around for a long time, sweetheart.”

“Really, now? I sure hope so, Buck. You’re my person.”

A smirk makes it’s way onto his face. “I’m your person? Well, then. I ain’t planning to let you go forever plus a day. I’m so happy to have you.”

“You better do something about it, wise-guy. I see Colonel Johnson eyeing me from the tactical tent-”

Before you can finish your sentence, he swoops you up, pulling you into a deep kiss as he lifts you off the ground and gives you a small spin.

“Barnes you are someth-”

“Y/N!” you and Bucky immediately pulled away from each other, and you turned to see Howard right in front of you. “Y/N! oh my god!”

You start to fiddle with the buttons on your uniform. “Howard! I’m sorry you had to find out like this-”

“Nonsense! I’m just glad your home. Even if it involved getting with- him” Howard said, making a hand gesture towards Bucky, who was behind you, cowering in fear. You wrapped your arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry, Howwie. I hate to make you worry.”

“Well, I also hate that you make me worried, but it isin’t your fault” You pull away from Howard’s hug and Bucky holds out his hand.

“I’d like to formally introduce myself, Mr. Stark. You haven’t let me introduce myself. My names James Buchanan Barnes, sir. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, without you threatening to fight me.”

Howard, hesitantly holding his hand out, “The pleasure is all mine, James. I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot. All I want is to see my sister happy. Which, you obviously do so- maybe I won’t chase you with a bat.”

“Howard!”

He lets out a laugh. “I only want the best for you, you know that. Now, I’m pretty sure Phillips wants you to give a debriefing.”

You nod. “See you later, Buck?”

“You know it, darlin’” he walks off.

“He loves you, you know. You can tell from his eyes. You’ll always be able to tell from someone’s eyes, sis.”

“What would you know? I be t you don’t even remember that one girl’s name!” you said, crossing your arms.

“Of course I remember. Maria, from New Haven. moved here to learn how to play piano. You’ve got to meet her sometime.”

“I hope so. Give her the sibling talk?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me.” you said, walking away.

“Wait-wait. This conversation isn't over!” he chases after you.

~~~~~~~~~~~

This was a long one, good god. anyways i spent an entire day on it so please show it some love. <3

- Talya

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #marvel #marvel imagines #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #Steve Rogers #peggy carter x best friend! reader #peggycarter #Howard Stark #howard stark x sister reader

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tabloidtoc · 4 years

Text

National Enquirer, December 28

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Ghislaine Maxwell scandal explodes

Page 2: George Clooney was rushed to the hospital after rapidly dropping 28 pounds to play an ailing astronomer in his latest movie The Midnight Sky and the harrowing incident has infuriated worried wife Amal Clooney -- George’s scare came when he was diagnosed with life-threatening pancreatitis days before he was scheduled to start filming on a glacier in Finland -- Amal was unhappy and angry that he put his health on the line for the role and she was also furious because this wasn’t the first time the father of her twins has been in harm’s way and she’s demanding he take better care of himself so he’ll be around to care for his kids

Page 3: Lori Loughlin’s deluded daughter Olivia Jade Giannulli is clueless over the college admissions scandal that landed her parents in jail and believes her own hype according to a body language expert -- in an interview on Jada Pinkett Smith’s Red Table Talk Olivia claimed she had no idea posing for pictures on a rowing machine to finagle a crew scholarship to the University of Southern California despite never having practiced the sport was deceitful but body language expert Susan Constantine said Olivia doesn’t appear to have any understanding of the consequences of her actions or those of mom Lori and dad Mossimo Giannulli -- after observing Olivia’s confession Constantine said she didn’t notice any deceptive indicators such as pauses in her speech or shrugging of her shoulders however she labeled Olivia completely unequivocally oblivious which she said made it challenging to judge Olivia’s truthfulness

Page 4: Lonely Diane Keaton is longing for love and she’s turned to former flame Jack Nicholson for help in landing a new guy -- Diane is truly desperate to find a man and she knows if there’s one person who can help her navigate the dating scene after all this time it’s Jack -- the Oscar-winning actress shocked the world when she recently admitted she hasn’t been on a date in 35 years and she made a joke of it but the pandemic has made her realize how lonely she really is -- Diane would never date Jack again but knows he has a lot of eligible friends who would fit her dating profile

* Dying Olivia Newton-John worries endlessly about her daughter Chloe and made a touching final request of close pal John Travolta: Please take care of Chloe after I’m gone -- Olivia’s concerns for Chloe spiked after she blasted the COVID-19 vaccine on social media writing that natural medicine is the party she belongs to -- Olivia has been battling stage 4 breast cancer while John lost his wife Kelly Preston to the same disease and John loves and admires Olivia for the way she’s battled this disease and she’s given him the hope and encouragement he needs -- now Chloe’s ongoing issues have pushed Olivia to beg John to pledge he’ll be there for her daughter because Chloe has spent over $450,000 on multiple plastic surgeries including breast enhancements and a nose job and lip enhancements and Botox and she’s also battled anorexia and depression which led to bouts with cocaine and alcohol addiction -- Olivia has always been deeply concerned about who would look out for Chloe if she wasn’t around and now that she can see the end is near she asked John to be that person; he never blinked an eye and said of course

Page 5: Ozzy Osbourne’s frail and feeble appearance has friends fearing for the rocker but he has no plans to abandon a 2022 comeback even if it kills him -- the 72-year-old singer has battled Parkinson’s disease and crippling nerve damage but has vowed he will die onstage -- nobody disputes he has the heart of a lion and it’s great to see him out and about again recording music and talking the good talk but ultimately Ozzy is a very sickly guy who needs to protect himself and not charge around trying to delude himself by living life at a pace that doesn’t make sense anymore

Page 6: Rattled reality star Kylie Jenner is living in fear after being terrorized by two crazed fans and is now spending $350,000 a month on a 25-person security detail -- Kylie filed court documents seeking a restraining order against Justin Bergquist who allegedly broke into her $36.5 million California home last month

Page 7: Lonely Ryan Seacrest may have nearly half a billion bucks in the bank but he’d trade in his riches for another shot at love -- he was so devastated by his breakup with on-again off-again galpal Shayna Taylor last summer he fears he may never find a woman to spend the rest of his life with and he now realizes her put his career before his personal life one too many times and may suffer for it forever -- Ryan’s recent health woes have been a wake-up call and forced him to understand the price he’s paying for taking his partners for granted for so long -- Ryan now realizes life is too short to go it alone and it’s finally dawned on him he’s not invincible and not so self-sufficient after all

* Miley Cyrus’ admission that she’s had a lot of FaceTime sex has left friends and advisers fearing she may be setting herself up for some unwanted exposure -- though Miley explained she’s turned to virtual hookups to avoid physical contact during the pandemic but she’s putting herself at an entirely different kind of risk and she’s setting herself up as a potential victim of revenge porn

Page 10: Hot Shots -- Brooke Burke showed off her toned figure in Malibu, Andrew Garfield looked bored on the NYC set of Tick Tick...Boom!, Busy Philipps cleaning, Audrina Patridge and her daughter Kirra on a Beverly Hills playdate

Page 11: Guy Fieri is eating up heaps of praise for handing out $500 grants to more than 43,000 restaurant workers across the nation -- he scrambled to raise over $21.5 million in seven weeks to help legions of unemployed restaurant laborers who have suffered financially due to the COVID-19 health and economic crisis -- through his new Restaurant Employee Relief Fund Guy personally buttonholed fat cats at cash-rich corporations such as PepsiCo and Uber Eats and Moet Hennessy USA to make donations -- he shows how he did it and shines a light on the industry’s continuing challenges in Restaurant Hustle 2020 a documentary he produced for the Food Network

* Garth Brooks and Trisha Yearwood are spreading yuletide cheer with their TV holiday special but they’re more interested in ringing cash registers than Christmas bells -- Garth and Trisha rake in $60 million a year from concert ticket sales and CD purchases and merchandising but the couple saw their cash flow slow during the pandemic -- they lost a bunch of money but they had the unique opportunity to do TV specials and grab a big chunk of it back -- while the $10 million they are pocketing for their TV specials won’t make up for what they would have netted on tour it was a sweet stocking stuffer and they both want to get back on the road and really rake it in but TV has made the wait a lot easier

Page 12: Straight Shuter -- With Beyonce and Taylor Swift facing off for Song of the Year at the upcoming Grammy Awards producers are scrambling to prevent another Kanye West explosion like what happened in 2009

* Killing off The Talk may be the only hope of saving Drew Barrymore’s tanking talk show

* The Real Housewives of New York are treating the first Black cast member Eboni K. Williams with kid gloves because no one wants to come across as racist

* Niecy Nash and Jessica Betts (picture)

Page 13: January Jones’ desperate bid for online attention has pals concerned she may be cracking up -- her red-hot career appears to have cooled since Mad Men ended in 2015 and January is dying to land another plum part like Betty Draper but she’s going about it the wrong way -- she’s been posting sexy bikini pictures and leggy dance numbers on Instagram but that’s not the way to catch the eye of casting directors especially with so few shows in production during the COVID-19 lockdown

* Caitlyn Jenner has reached out to trans actor Elliot Page offering to be his big sister in an opportunistic PR ploy -- while Caitlyn was one of many trans celebs including Jazz Jennings and Geena Rocero to offer Elliot congratulations and support, Caitlyn viewed the announcement as a new opportunity to leap back into the limelight and she believes that by aligning herself with Elliot she can regain her status as an activist and the symbol of transgender rights in Hollywood -- Elliot is happy to listen to Caitlyn’s advice but he’s been navigating his gender issues for years and doesn’t need guidance and he’s not going to be rude but he doesn’t need the help

Page 14: Crime

Page 15: A never-before-heard audio recording is of iconic soul singer James Brown’s wish to leave his $100 million fortune to educate poor children -- in the garbled 1999 recording the singer who died suddenly in 2006 called the creation of his I Feel Good foundation his lasting legacy but his precious foundation has not seen a dime because his fortune has remained tied up in court since his death which is the subject of an investigation by the Fulton County, Georgia District Attorney’s office after allegations surfaced that Brown might have been poisoned by someone after his money

Page 16: American Life

Page 17: What Shocked and Rocked in 2020 -- the best scoops and stories of the year

Page 25: Fired Hillsong Church pastor Carl Lentz was so starstruck by his celebrity parishioners he believed he was a star himself and his ego fueled his shocking fall from grace and now he’s getting mental health treatment after being accused of cheating on his wife and getting sacked for moral failures -- Carl tended the trendy megachurch’s New York City flock and regularly rubbed shoulders with celebs including NBA star Kevin Durant and singer Selena Gomez and even once invited Justin Bieber to live with him before being booted by bigwigs but now he’s said to be getting help at an outpatient facility specializing in depression and pastoral burnout but cunning Carl may have made the move simply to revamp his wrecked reputation

Page 26: Prince Harry and Meghan Markle are heading to couples therapy in a desperate bid to stay together because their marriage is hanging by a thread -- the pair are at each other’s throats as they struggle to adjust to their new life in America -- Harry’s gone from being excited about the move to feeling tortured and it’s like he swapped his royal prison in Britain for a new hell in a $14 million California mansion and he fears he’s made a terrible mistake but Meghan’s ordering him to man up and grab this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to make millions away from the monarchy’s suffocating shadow -- the fighting came to a head before the holidays when Harry was feeling especially homesick and guilty about abandoning his family especially his brother Prince William and his grandmother Queen Elizabeth -- adding to their troubles Meghan seems hellbent on staying in the public eye during the pandemic and she masterminded their personal video calls to charities in London and the U.S. and the secret deliveries of meals to the needy but then she made them public and the truth is it’s The Meghan Show now and Harry’s just the side act

Page 27: A charming Chinese spy bedded two Midwestern mayors and courted other clueless politicians to weasel her way into U.S. government circles -- Chinese national Christina Fang also known as Fang Fang, reportedly entered the U.S. as a college student in 2011

Page 31: Candice Bergen moaned that at the age of 74 she’s a wreck and that she has a wattle -- Candice admitted to having her eyes done while filming the Murphy Brown reboot because they were very hooded and as for today she knows she should have injections because she has deep lines along her lip but she can’t take the pain

* Rachael Ray lost her New York home to a blazing inferno but her holidays were salvaged by the warmth of community spirit -- following the devastating fire she and her husband moved into the property’s guesthouse and in a clip on The Rachael Ray Show the emotional host showed off her festively decorated digs and gushed she didn’t know where she’d be without friends and a community and people so dear to her that helped her bring Christmas to life even when you’re not at home

Page 32: Health Watch -- blood test predicts Alzheimer’s

Page 34: Longtime lovebirds Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell are hoping to make a movie with their whole family -- the star-studded cast would include Goldie’s kids Kate Hudson and Oliver Hudson and the couple’s son Wyatt Russell -- as for filming with the entire gang Goldie gushed that they have thought about it and she’d love to do something with her kids and the grandchildren too

* Hollywood Hookups -- Kristin Cavallari and Jeff Dye heating up, Malik Beasley and Larsa Pippen dating but Malik’s wife Montana Yao filed for divorce, Chrishell Stause and Keo Motsepe dating

Page 36: Infamous Hollywood hotel Chateau Marmont has a storied history of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll ever since it opened its doors in 1929 and nearly a century later it hasn’t been tamed -- even during the pandemic the majestic hotel is wild with drunks, overdoses and luckily averted suicide attempts and according to 911 records the debauched celebrity haunt is filled with people having breakdowns -- the Chateau’s crazy days and nights are legendary: it’s where John Belushi died in one of the bungalows in 1982 from a deadly cocaine-heroin concoction

Page 38: One of the most iconic images from the James Bond films which is a handgun used by Sean Connery in Dr. No has sold for $256,000 at auction in Beverly Hills -- the gun is a deactivated semi-automatic Walther PP pistol -- the winning bidder who asked to remain anonymous is an American who’s seen every James Bond film with his children -- a helmet created for Tom Cruise in Top Gun also sold at the auction for $108,000 while a sword used by Bruce Willis in Pulp Fiction sold for $35,200

* Dolly Parton has one major thing left on her bucket list which is she wants to see Beyonce sing Jolene one of the country star’s signature songs -- Jolene has been recorded more than any other song Dolly has ever written but that isn’t enough for her because she also wants to see it updated by one of the top female stars of a new generation -- it has been recorded worldwide over 400 times in lots of different languages but nobody’s ever had a really big hit record on it and Dolly always hoped somebody might do it someday by someone like Beyonce

* Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson has wrestled his way into the alcohol market with his own tequila brand and lifted it into first place as the most successful spirit launch in history and he’s even on track to double George Clooney’s first-year launch -- Dwayne is expected to move more than 300,000 cases of small-batch Teremana Tequila in its first year of trading

Page 40: Smitten singer Rihanna has fallen hard for A$AP Rocky but friends fear the playboy rapper will leave her broken-hearted -- Rocky is a charming guy but he also has a love ‘em and leave ‘em reputation and everyone’s concerned she’s more into him than he is into her -- Rihanna’s desperate to meet a man she can see herself with for the rest of her life and she believes Rocky might be the one but everybody thinks she’s rushing into things with Rocky -- Rocky is not interested in a long-term romance and Rihanna shouldn’t be thinking of this as more than a port in the storm

* Lizzo is livin’ large and she’s showing every inch of her jiggles and folds on TikTok -- the body-positivity enthusiast wore a white bikini for an all-angles video in which she amply demonstrated the tricks models and celebs use to look slimmer -- she bared her belly and back and legs and sometimes jiggled her thighs or grabbed a hunk of herself to prove there’s more to luscious ladies than meets the eye and wrote, “Wild to see the body positive movement come so far. Proud of the big girls who gave it wings.”

Page 42: Red Carpet -- The Crown stars -- Claire Foy, Emma Corrin, Gillian Anderson, Vanessa Kirby, Erin Doherty

Page 47: Odd List -- baseball fan Darren Johnson hatched an unusual idea for his new chicken coop making it a model of Houston’s former Eighth Wonder of the World The Astrodome

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CIVIL WAR | BIOGRAPHY Philip Sheridan

Philip Henry Sheridan was once depicted by Abraham Lincoln as "An earthy colored, thick little chap, with a long body, short legs, insufficient neck to hang him, and such long arms that if his lower legs tingle he can scratch them without stooping." Still, "Little Phil" rose to enormous force and acclaim before his inconvenient demise of a respiratory failure at age 57.

He is generally acclaimed for his annihilation of the Shenandoah Valley in 1864, called "The Burning" by its inhabitants. He was additionally the subject of an incredibly well known sonnet named "Sheridan's Ride", where he (and his acclaimed horse, Rienzi) make all the difference by showing up without a moment to spare for the Battle of Cedar Creek.

Like Patrick Cleburne, Sheridan rose rapidly in position. In the fall of 1861, Sheridan was a staff official for Maj. Gen. Henry Halleck. He later became officer general in the Army of Southwest Missouri. With the assistance of persuasive companions he was selected Colonel of the second Michigan Cavalry in May, 1862. His first fight, Booneville, MS, intrigued Brig. Gen. William S. Rosecrans such a lot of that he, when all is said and done, was elevated to Brigadier General. After Stones River he was elevated to Major General.

Sheridan's men were essential for the powers which caught Missionary Ridge (close to Chattanooga) in 1863. At the point when Ulysses S. Award was elevated to General-in-Chief of the Union armed forces, he made Sheridan the authority of the Army of the Potomac's Cavalry Corps. This moved him from the Western Theater toward the Eastern Theater of activities. From the start, Sheridan's Corps was utilized for observation. His men were sent on a key striking mission toward Richmond in May 1864. At that point he battled with blended achievement in Grant's 1864 Overland Campaign.

During the Civil War, Virginia's Shenandoah Valley was an essential asset to the Confederacy. In addition to the fact that it served as the Confederate "breadbasket", it was a significant transportation course. The locale had seen two enormous scope crusades as of now when Gen. Ulysses S. Award chose to visit the Valley indeed in 1864. He sent Philip Sheridan set for make the Shenandoah Valley a "desolate waste".

In September, Sheridan crushed Jubal Early's more modest power at Third Winchester, and again at Fisher's Hill. At that point he started "The Burning" – annihilating stables, plants, rail lines, production lines – obliterating assets for which the Confederacy had a desperate need. He made more than 400 square miles of the Valley dreadful. "The Burning" foreshadowed William Tecumseh Sherman's "Walk to the Sea": another mission to deny assets to the Confederacy just as bring the conflict home to its regular citizens.

In October, be that as it may, Jubal Early found Sheridan napping. Early dispatched an unexpected assault at Cedar Creek on the nineteenth. Sheridan, nonetheless, was ten miles away in Winchester, Virginia. After hearing the sound of mounted guns shoot, Sheridan hustled to rejoin his powers. He showed up without a moment to spare to get everyone excited. Early's men, nonetheless, were experiencing appetite and started to plunder the unwanted Union camps. The activities of Sheridan (and Maj. Gen. Horatio Wright) halted the Union retreat and managed a serious hit to Early's military.

For his activities at Cedar Creek, Sheridan was elevated to Major General in the customary armed force. He likewise got a letter of appreciation from President Abraham Lincoln. The general enjoyed extraordinary Thomas Buchanan Read's sonnet, "Sheridan's Ride" – to such an extent that he renamed his pony "Winchester". The Union triumphs in the Shenandoah Valley came in the nick of time for Abraham Lincoln and aided the Republicans rout Democratic applicant George B. McClellan in the appointment of 1864.

Throughout the spring of 1865, Sheridan sought after Lee's military with hounded assurance. He caught Early's military in March. In April, Gen. Lee had to empty Petersburg when Sheridan remove his lines of help at Five Forks. Furthermore, at Sayler's Creek, he caught very nearly one fourth of Lee's military. At long last at Appomattox, Lee had to give up the Army of Northern Virginia when Sheridan's powers obstructed Lee's break course.

At war's end, Phil Sheridan was a legend to numerous Northerners. Gen. Award held him in the most elevated regard. In any case, Sheridan was not without his issues. He had stretched Grant's requests to the edge. He likewise eliminated Gettysburg legend Gouverneur Warren from order. It was subsequently decided that Warren's evacuation was ridiculous and inappropriate.

During Reconstruction, Sheridan was named to be the military legislative head of Texas and Louisiana (the Fifth Military District). Due to the seriousness of his organization there, President Andrew Johnson pronounced that Sheridan was a dictator and had him eliminated.

In 1867, Ulysses S. Award accused Sheridan of mollifying the Great Plains, where fighting with Native Americans was unleashing devastation. With an end goal to constrain the Plains individuals onto reservations, Sheridan utilized similar strategies he utilized in the Shenandoah Valley: he assaulted a few clans in their colder time of year quarters, and he advanced the far and wide butcher of American buffalo, their essential wellspring of food.

In 1871, the overall regulated military aid ventures during the Great Chicago Fire. He turned into the Commanding General of the United States Army on November 1, 1883, and on June 1, 1888, he was elevated to General of the Army of the United States – a similar position accomplished by Ulysses S. Award and William Tecumseh Sherman.

Sheridan is additionally generally answerable for the foundation of Yellowstone National Park – saving it from being offered to engineers.

In August 1888, Sheridan passed on after a progression of monstrous coronary failures. He was covered at Arlington National Cemetery.