#Simon Leary
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beach pic dump re-post #1
#sims 3#Oc: Dolores Webb#cuz fuck it#Oc: Melvin Holloway#Oc: Serena Mason#Oc: Simon Davis#Oc: Luke Rocha Bates#Oc: Eleanor Leary#new character#wrote a long ass description bout her in the tags yesterday but I'll spare ya this time#alcohol tw#one day I will post edited stuff again#I guess#I hope
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dominic's upcoming projects
tow (now in post-production, release date: tba)
directed by stephanie laing
co-starring rose byrne, ariana debose, octavia spencer, simon rex, and demi lovato
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oh. what. fun. (filming from may-july 2024, release date: tba)
directed by michael showalter
co-starring michelle pfeiffer, felicity jones, denis leary, and chloe grace moretz
imdb, letterboxd
now you see me 3 (filming starts july 2024, release date: tba)
dir. by ruben fleischer
co-starring justice smith, ariana greenblatt, isla fisher, jesse eisenberg, woody harrelson, dave franco, mark ruffalo, rosamund pike, and morgan freeman
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Lewis Sheridan Leary (March 17, 1835 – October 20, 1859), a harnessmaker from Oberlin, Ohio, joined John Brown’s raid on Harpers Ferry, where he was killed.
His father was a free-born African-American harnessmaker. He was born in Fayetteville, North Carolina. His paternal grandparents were an Irishman, Jeremiah O’Leary, who fought in the American Revolution under General Nathanael Greene, and his wife of African, European, and Native American descent. His great-grandfather, Aaron Revels, fought in the revolution. Through Revels, he was a cousin to Hiram Rhodes Revels, the first African-American to serve in the Senate. His brother was a North Carolina politician and lawyer, John S. Leary.
In 1857, he moved to Oberlin. There he married Mary Patterson, an African-American graduate of Oberlin College. He became involved with abolitionists in Oberlin, which had an active community. He met John Brown in Cleveland.
In 1858, he participated in the Oberlin-Wellington Rescue, when fugitive slave John Price was forcibly taken from the custody of a US Marshal to prevent his being returned to slavery in the South. He was not among the 37 men (12 of them free African Americans) who were indicted and jailed for their actions. As a result of negotiations between state officials (who had arrested the US Marshal and his party) and federal officials, only Simon Bushnell and Charles Henry Langston were tried; both were convicted and served light sentences, in part because of Langston’s eloquent speech in their defense.
He may have been the first recruit from Oberlin to join Brown’s army. He left Mary and their six-month-old daughter Lois at home. Accompanied by John A. Copeland, he went to Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, to join Brown. He died eight days after the attack from wounds suffered in the conflict at Harper’s Ferry. Copeland was captured, tried, and executed. After his death, the abolitionists James Redpath (editor for the New York Tribune) and Wendell Phillips helped raise money for Mary and Lois Leary’s support and the girl’s education. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence
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W A T C H I N G
So far It's made references to Elvis' real friends, acquaintances, and historical figures:
Real Friends/Acquaintances:
Scatter (his real chimp pet!)
Dean Martin
Redd Foxx
Sammy Davis Jr.
Priscilla Presley (plays herself)
Young Kurt Russell
George Clinton (plays himself)
Others:
Robert Goulet (Elvis shot out his TV while watching him perform - real life story, lol)
Stanley Kubrick
Mary Tyler-Moore
George Lucas
The Beatles (played by Simon Pegg)
Jack Lord
Hervé Villechaize
Historical figures:
Richard Nixon
Charles Manson
Howard Hughes
Walter Cronkite
Timothy Leary
#AGENT ELVIS (2023)#MATTHEW McCONAUGHEY#JOHNNY KNOXVILLE#PRISCILLA PRESLEY#DON CHEADLE#NIECY NASH#JASON MANTZOUKAS#Chris Elliott#Ed Helms#Gary Anthony Williams#Tara Strong#Fred Armisen#Gary Cole#Simon Pegg#ELVIS PRESLEY#AGENT ELVIS#ANIMATED#CARTOON#IRREVERENT COMEDY#HOWARD HUGHES#CHARLES MANSON#KAITLIN OLSON#RICHARD NIXON#1970s#WATCHING#TCB - Taking Care of Business#comedy
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“El hombre vive sólo para aprender. Y si aprende es porque ésa es la naturaleza de su suerte, para bien o para mal.”
Carlos Castañeda (Las enseñanzas de Don Juan)
Carlos Castaneda fue un antropólogo y escritor peruano nacionalizado estadounidense, autor de una serie de libros que describirían su entrenamiento en un tipo peculiar de naturalismo tradicional mesoamericano denominado nahualismo.
Dentro de las creencias mesoamericanas, el nahual es una especie de brujo o ser sobrenatural que tiene la capacidad de tomar forma animal y de realizar actos de brujería.
Primeros años
Según sus propias declaraciones, nació en Sao Paulo Brasil en 1935, en donde en 1948, su familia se traslada a Lima Perú en donde comenta fue enviado a un internado en Buenos Aires y mas tarde a San Francisco California a la edad de 15 años, en donde vivió con su familia adoptiva.
En 1951 emigra a Los Angeles California para cursar estudios de antropología en la universidad de California (UCLA) en donde se gradúa en 1962.
Las enseñanzas de Don Juan
En 1968 publica su primer libro “Las enseñanzas de Don Juan”, con el cual obtiene el grado de maestría, y en 1973 se le concede el doctorado por su libro Viaje a Ixtlán.
El eje central de sus libros, se basan en sus supuestas experiencias con el indio Yaqui Juan Matus, quien relata posee un antiguo conocimiento del que Castaneda se hizo portavoz y aprendiz desde 1960 hasta 1973.
En sus dos primeros libros, Castaneda centra su relato en presentar las peculiaridades del peyote (una cactácea que crece en las regiones desérticas del norte de México, la cual tiene sustancias psicoactivas entre ellas la mescalina).
En su relato, el brujo Juan Matus hacia llamar al peyote “Mescalito”, y según sus relatos, considera como su protector.
El relato dice que el brujo introduce a Castañeda en el proceso de iniciarlo en el uso del peyote en lo que Castaneda haría llamar como estados de conciencia aumentada.
A mediados de los años 60, Timothy Leary había protagonizado un escándalo al repartir LSD entre los estudiantes universitarios para alcanzar estados alterados de conciencia y para entonces, Ronald Reagan que era gobernador de California prohibió su consumo.
Se dice que un cazatalentos de la editorial Simon&Schuster, descubrió “Las enseñanzas de Don Juan” y el imperio editorial compró los derechos haciendo de Castaneda un éxito en ventas.
Controversias
Sus trabajos han sido fuertemente cuestionados, aduciendo a que sus relatos no son verificables, y no corresponden a las tradiciones yaquis.
Igualmente, se afirma, que las fechas de algunos de sus relatos no corresponden a las fechas en las que estuvo en México.
Otras criticas a la cuales se le atribuyen inconsistencias, es a la falta de grabaciones y notas de campo, que permitan referir como comprobables los trabajos antropológicos de Castaneda.
Por lo anterior, se hace dudar de la veracidad de sus escritos (nI siquiera la existencia de Juan Matus el supuesto brujo es verificable), y a la responsabilidad de la UCLA quien al parecer, nunca emitió comunicado alguno sobre la obra de Castañeda.
Muerte
Carlos Castaneda muere de cáncer en 1998 y tras su muerte fue objeto de muchas criticas.
Se desprendieron muchas historias que hablan de un charlatán que dejó una fortuna procedente de sus seguidores y cursos de su denominada “transegridad”.
La transegridad era una especie de arte marcial que denominaba como pases de energía, y obligaba a sus seguidores a romper lazos con sus familiares, a mantenerse célibes y rechazar la maternidad en nombre de Don Juan a quien refería como si se tratara de un mesías.
Fuentes Wikipedia y https://aldianews.com/es/articles/cultura/social/un-impostor-honoris-causa-la-vida-secreta-de-carlos-castaneda/56580
#frases#citas de reflexion#citas de escritores#citas de libros#Escritores#Carlos Castaneda#chamanismo#frases de escritores#conciencia#peyote#ayahuasca alucinogeno#alucinógenos
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Please note that I prefer to interact with individuals who are at least 15 years of age. Additionally, I apologize for any confusion, but the content I've written is intended for males and non-binary individuals.
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Call Me Josh Chapter 23
“Something must be done!” Rabbi Leary thunders to the group of Rabbis with him. They come from all over the country to meet and discuss the ‘Joshua situation '. “He eats with sinners and gentiles. He welcomes those who are unclean. His speeches are drawing bigger and bigger crowds. The people love him. Soon he will be untouchable.”
“He heals the sick.” One of the younger rabbi’s offers. They are meeting in the rabbi’s huge synagogue. He calls it Temple Beth Israel. It is luxurious, the biggest synagogue in the country.
Rabbi Leary sneers. “A parlor trick.”
“We need to go see him, in person. Find the crack in his amour. He can’t be as perfect as he seems.” Another offers.
“No that is a good idea.” He starts to pace around the room, from the stand, gold plated, to the back of the room and the wall with gold accents. “Where is he?”
Someone looks it up online. “He is scheduled to be at the hospital this afternoon.”
“Then we will be too. Let’s go men. We must protect Judaism from any who wish to change her.”
The youngest rabbi, Rabbi Nicklaus, thinks, “And your profit from it.” As he follows them out.
He walks through the hospital with his followers, Peter, John, Judas, Tomas, James, Andrew, Matt, Jude, Bart, Phil, Simon, and Jim. These twelve are his closest. Marta, Maria, and Larry, Margret, also stay close to him. Today they are joined by a group of Rabbis.
“Hello men, have you came to do a mitzvah for the needy here? Have you come to show compassion to those less fortunate then yourselves?” He then turns to his disciples. “You see, they speak of compassion, but it is reserved for those of their same social standing. To get their hands dirty doing real missionary work, to touch the unclean, that is beneath them.”
“How dare you say such to me?” Rabbi Leary hisses.
“Have I said anything that wasn’t true? Show me I am wrong Rabbi Leary, Rabbi Nicklaus,” he nods to the youngest. “Words you have a plenty, with your flowing prayers and long recitations from Torah. Actions speak louder though. We are going to the AIDS ward. Will you join us?” He looks sternly into each of their eyes before starting towards the elevators. He looks back with sadness at their frozen forms.
They take hands, say prayers. They wipe sweaty brows. One young man stares at him. “You, your Joshua. I saw you on the television. You could heal me, if you wished.”
Joshua smiles at him. “I wish.” He touches him and looks up to heaven, “My Father I thank You for using me to heal our son.” He looks down and meets his eyes. “You are well. Go and sin no more.” The man jumps from his bed, grabbing the back of his gown as not to expose himself, and starts to dance around the room. The commotion brings several nurses in.
“What is all this?” One sternly asks.
“I am healed! Joshua healed me!”
The doctor is called in. Test show this man, who’s white blood cells were so low they barely registered, now has a normal level. Are his opportunistic infections are gone! He really is completely healthy.
After, as they are preparing to leave the hospital, a group of friends, pushing another in a wheelchair, stop him. The Rabbi’s have rejoined them.
“Please sir, will you heal our friend. He was born unable to walk.” He looks back at the rabbi’s and, moved by their faith says,
“Your sins are forgiven.” To the young man in the wheelchair. An outcry from the rabbi’s.
“Who do you think you are? Only God has the power to forgive sins!”
“Which is easier to say, your sins are forgiven or,” He turns back to the man, “Arise and walk.” He takes his hand and lifts him to his feet. They watch as his crooked legs are straightened. As he stands on his feet for the first time in his life.
The man stares down at them and then over to the man that has healed him. “I can walk?” His friends watch, hands over their mouths, tears running down their eyes.
“Walk, skip, jump, run, anything you wish.” Joshua replies, a twinkle in his eye.
The man takes a step, then another. He is laughing and crying as a crowd gathers. He calls out, “Joshua, the miracle man, he brought life to my legs and my soul.” He runs around the lobby as the onlookers clap and cheer. With a scowl, the rabbi’s leave. Joshua watches them. Rabbi Nicklaus stops.
“I would like to know more about your work. May we meet somewhere?”
“The park tonight.” He nods and hurries to catch up with the others.
The sit on a park bench alone. “You want to know about the coming kingdom.” Joshua states. Nicklaus nods. “How to enter it?”
“Yes, I know you are from God.”
“You must be born again.”
The other man frowns. “How is that possible? A person can’t reenter their mother and be reborn.”
“There are two births. One physical, the other spiritual. God is Spirit, so those that wish to enter His Kingdom must be born anew in the Spirit. Be transformed from the inside out. Living a life fully devoted to and honoring God.”
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Samsung x Charles Jeffrey - Night mode from matilda finn on Vimeo.
DIRECTOR: MATILDA FINN
DOP: BEN FORDESMAN
EP: RUPERT REYNOLDS-MACLEAN
PROD CO: BISCUIT FILMWORKS
PRODUCER: SIMON EAKHURST
PRODUCTION MANAGER: LUKE THORNTON
DIRECTORS ASSISTANT: NELLIE HERON-ANSTEAD
PRODUCTION CO-ORDINATOR: ROMA NESI PIO
CHOREOGRAPHER: PIERRE BABBAGE
AGENCY: MOTHER LONDON
EDIT: STITCH EDITING
EDIT PRODUCER: ANGELA HART
EDITOR: LEO KING
EDITOR ASSISTANT: LUKE ANDERSON
POST PRODUCTION: TIME BASED ARTS
POST PRODUCER: CHRIS ALIANO
COLOURIST: SIMONE GRATAROLLA
2D LEAD: OLLIE RAMSEY
2D TEAM: THIAGO DANTAS, WILL ROBINSON, MICHAEL AVELING, RALPH BRISCOE, ADAM LEARY, TOM MACKAY-THOMAS
SOUND: MARK HILLS @ FACTORY
MUSIC: WAX WINGS
CAST CO-ORDINATOR: GABIJA LAUCE
COVID-19 CO-ORDINATOR: CAMILLA MORRIS
LOCATION MANAGER (SHOOTING UNIT): GEORGE VERDON-SMITH
LOCATION ASSISTANT (DAYTIME PREP): NICK JAY
1ST ASSISTANT DIRECTOR: BEN GILL
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RUNNER: ALEX MCALLISTER
RUNNER: KAI RAJAKULASINGAM
RUNNER: TIGER BREWER
PRODUCTION/AGENCY RUNNER: AYESHA ANDERSON
FOCUS PULLER: ANDREW BRADLEY
CLAPPER LOADER: ADAM GREEN
CAMERA TRAINEE: CAROLINA DA COSTA
KEY GRIP: DAVID HOLIDAY
GRIP (TECH RECCE ONLY): DAN MORIARTY
GRIP TRAINEE: WILLIAM MILES
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GENNY OPERATOR: TONY BRUCE
RIGGING GAFFER: MICHAEL SMIT
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RIGGING ELECTRICIAN: JOHN MALANEY
RIGGING ELECTRICIAN: NICK BRITT
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CONSTRUCTION MANAGER: NICK DILWORTH
CONSTRUCTION: CASEY CONCANNON
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CONSTRUCTION: GERT RADEMEYER
CONSTRUCTION: GREG SIMPSON
CONSTRUCTION: MATT AMOS
CONSTRUCTION: RAMZI JABBUR
CONSTRUCTION: THIBAULT MARTINEAU
SFX SUPERVISOR: STEVE HUTCHINSON
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SFX TECHNICIAN: ED SMITH
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PROSTHETIC SUPERVISOR: VICTORIA MONEY
PROSTHETIC ARTIST: ALEX HARPER
PROSTHETIC ASSISTANT: DOMINIQUE BUTLER
H&S OFFICER/COVID SUPERVISOR: DAVE WATKINS
UNIT MEDIC: DAVID BROAD
PREP MEDIC: JAI MASSEY
IFA CO-ORDINATOR & MAIN TESTER: ALEX RALLS
IFA TECHNICIAN: ALEX CAMPBELL
IFA TECHNICIAN: DIVINE ZAKI
IFA TECHNICIAN: MADJID KALE
IFA TECHNICIAN: MARK SANDBERG
IFA TECHNICIAN: ROXANNE MARTIN
IFA TECHNICIAN: STUART WALKER
IFA TECHNICIAN: ZYGI VOLOSINTAS
ANIMAL HANDLER: DEAN CLARKE
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SECURITY: MARK EDWARDS
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TALENT: CHARLIE BUCKLAND
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LA INSOPORTABLE TIRANÍA DE LA CORRECCIÓN POLÍTICA
por: Eduard A. Ccoa Jordán
La corrección política multicultural y la cultural de la cancelación “woke” se asemejan cada vez más a la sociedad distópica representada en la película de acción y ciencia ficción, el Demoledor (1994) dirigida por Marco Brambilla. En esta sociedad la guerra, la pobreza, la delincuencia y otros males sociales han sido erradicados por completo. Los habitantes, al igual que “los últimos hombres” de Nietzsche, vegetan en las calles donde nada parece suceder. Como resultado, la policía es solo una institución decorativa y diplomática, y la política parece haberse reducido a una mera administración de las cosas. En este sentido, la policía y la política se vuelven indistinguibles. Si uno examina los detalles, se dará cuenta de que es una sociedad que aparenta ser transparente y profiláctica. Por ejemplo, la comida es orgánica y el amor se reduce a una simulación virtual; en resumen, las vulgaridades y todos los excesos libidinales son penalizados. Es el lugar perfecto del no-acontecimiento, es decir, un espacio ideológico despojado de cualquier patología perversa, un lugar con el que cualquier progresista de izquierdas sueña.
Sin embargo, la trama de la película muestra que esta sociedad no es tan transparente como se muestra, ya que revela a los excluidos del sistema que viven en las alcantarillas de la ciudad. En este sentido, fracasa en dar cuenta positiva y racionalmente de sus procesos parciales; por el contrario, se muestra como un orden social atravesado por los conflictos entre dos grupos sociales. En otras palabras, el poder instituido depende de una configuración histórica antes que de una racionalidad trascendental o "geist". Este conflicto en la película se muestra gráficamente con la lucha entre los de que están arriba y los que están abajo. Arriba es el lugar de la elite, los ciudadanos y la policía que han aceptado vivir bajo las reglas de una sociedad del no-acontecimiento, mientras que abajo es el lugar de los exiliados, los pobres __ o en términos de Ranciere, la parte que no tiene lugar__, aquellos que decidieron renunciar al estilo de vida de los de arriba y se refugian en las alcantarillas de la ciudad.
Esta situación se vuelve intolerable para los poderosos de arriba, en especial para Cocteau, el supremo líder que gobierna con mano de hierro ese régimen totalitario, ya que temen que su sociedad sea invadida y tomada por los de abajo. Para evitar que la plebe cuestione, deciden matar a su carismático líder, Edgar Friendly, interpretado por Denis Leary. Pero como Cocteau es incapaz de usar la violencia por sí mismo, decide descongelar a Simon Phoenix, interpretado por Wesley Snipes, un peligroso terrorista condenado y criogenizado en los noventa por sus crímenes. Cuando Simon es liberado de su sueño criogénico causa un enorme tumulto en las calles aterrorizando a los ciudadanos y a la policía en lugar de cumplir con su objetivo. Para detener a Simon, la policía, ajena a los planes de Cocteau, decide descongelar a John Spartan, interpretado por Sylvester Stallone, un expolicía rudo y rebelde condenado y criogenizado injustamente por culpa de Simon. La estrategia es clara: solo un psicópata puede luchar contra otro psicópata. Y así comienza una serie de feroces peleas callejeras entre ambos enemigos.
Sin embargo, Spartan empieza a darse cuenta del verdadero motivo por el que Simon fue descongelado y liberado. Decide entonces investigar lo que está sucediendo, y junto a otros policías, se adentra a las alcantarillas de la ciudad para descubrir ese submundo que se esconde allí. Lo que encentra es un lugar caotico y sucio: es decir, un auténtico bazar persa con sabor latinoamericano. Mientras sus compañeros expresan su incomodad y repulsión, Spartan se siente extrañamente atraído por este entorno, tanto que llega a probar una hamburguesa de rata. En uno de sus paseos por los túneles, Spartan tiene un encuentro casual con Edgar Friendly, el líder de los de abajo y al que Cocteau quiere muerto a cualquier precio. Lo que sucede a partir de ese momento es una fascinante y memorable charla entre Spartan y Edgar Friendly que convertirá al líder rebelde en uno de los héroes más admirados de lo políticamente incorrecto.
-John Spartan: Espera un minuto, eres ese tipo afuera de Taco Bell.
-Edgar Friendly: Sí. ¿Qué quieres?
-John Spartan: Supongo que no eres parte del 'Plan Cocteau, ¿verdad?
-Edgar Friendly: ¿Qué? ¿Codicia, engaño, abuso de poder? Eso no es un plan.
-John Spartan: ¿Por eso está todo el mundo aquí abajo?
-Edgar Friendly: Así es. Verás, según el plan de Cocteau, yo soy el enemigo porque me gusta pensar, me gusta leer. Me gusta la libertad de expresión, la libertad de elección. Soy el tipo de persona que se sentaría en un bar grasiento y pensaría: "Vaya, ¿debería tener el chuletón o la ración extragrande de costillas asadas con la guarnición de papas fritas con salsa?" QUIERO un colesterol alto. Quiero comer tocino, mantequilla y cubos de queso, ¿de acuerdo? Quiero fumar un cigarro cubano del tamaño de Cincinatti en una sección de no fumadores. Quiero correr desnudo con gelatina verde por todo el cuerpo leyendo una revista Playboy. ¿Por qué? Porque tal vez siento la necesidad de hacerlo, ¿vale? He VISTO el futuro, ¿sabes lo que es? Está hecho por un virgen de 47 años en pijama gris sumergiéndose en un baño de burbujas, bebiendo un batido de brócoli y pensando "Soy un Oscar-Meyer Wiener". Si quieres vivir en la cima, tienes que vivir a la manera de Cocteau. Lo que quiere, cuando quiere, como quiere. Tu otra opción: bajar aquí, quizás morirte de hambre.
En linea con esto, Slavoj Zizek suele decir que en la antigua Yugoslavia, los jóvenes de todas las nacionalidades que la integraban_ croatas, bosnios, serbios, etc.__pasaban un buen rato contando chistes obscenos. No se trataba tanto de hacerle la vida imposible al otro, sino de ver quien era capaz de hacer el chiste más obsceno, machista y racista. Según Zizek, esta chispa de mutua obscenidad amigable es necesaria para establecer un contacto real con el otro. Si falta esa chispa patológica, solo queda el frío respeto multicultural o esa forma de autodisciplinamiento que no permite superar el racismo y el sexismo, sino solo reprimirlos o controlarlos con el discurso de la tolerancia.
Sin embargo, esto no significa que una relación deba ser una sucesión constante e idiota de insultos. Cuando comenzaron las guerras y las pasiones étnicas en Yugoslavia, las primeras víctimas, según Zizek, fueron los chistes obscenos. De igual modo, la corrección política suprime ese espacio virtuoso de mutua obscenidad. Es por eso que el filósofo, cada vez que sale de su pequeña Liubliana, tiene la costumbre de preguntar: “Cuéntame un chiste sucio sobre ustedes y así nos hacemos amigos”. De esta forma, se establece un vinculo de confianza y amistad que permite romper las barreras del perjuicio y la distancia cultural.
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June 1st…this day in music History….
1959 - Juke Box Jury
The first edition of Juke Box Jury aired on the BBC. The shows host, David Jacobs, lead a revolving panel of guests in critiquing the week's top record releases. Although the songs were never played in their entirety, the four judges gave a verdict on whether each would be a "hit" or a "miss".
1959 - Johnny Horton
'The Battle Of New Orleans' by Johnny Horton went to No.1 on both the Country and Pop charts in the US, where it will stay for two months. The song was originally a poem written by high school teacher James Morriss in 1936, which he put to the music of an old fiddle tune known as 'The Eighth Of January'. Horton later won a Grammy Award for the song.
1961 - Elvis Presley
Elvis Presley was at No.1 on the UK singles chart with 'Surrender', his eighth UK No.1. The song was based on the 1911 Italian song, 'Return To Sorrento.'
1963 - Lesley Gore
Lesley Gore started a two week run at No.1 on the US singles chart with the Quincy Jones (then a staff producer for Mercury Records) produced 'It's My Party', a No.9 hit in the UK. Dave Stewart and Barbara Gaskin scored a UK No.1 in 1981 with their version of the song.
1964 - The Rolling Stones
The Rolling Stones were met by over 500 fans as they arrived on BA flight 505 at Kennedy Airport for their debut US tour. The Stones held a press conference and then guested on the prestigious "5th Beatle", DJ Murray The K's radio show. The first date took place on 5th June in San Bernardino, California.
1967 - David Bowie
David Bowie released his self titled debut studio album. Two singles were released from the album, 'Rubber Band' and 'The Laughing Gnome'. The album's failure cost Bowie his record contract with Deram Records who dropped him in April 1968.
1968 - Simon and Garfunkel
Simon And Garfunkel went to No.1 on the US singles chart with 'Mrs Robinson'. Featured in the Dustin Hoffman and Ann Bancroft film 'The Graduate', the song earned the duo a Grammy Award for Record of the Year in 1969.
1969 - John Lennon
The Plastic Ono Band recorded 'Give Peace A Chance' during a 'bed-in' at the Hotel La Reine in Montreal, Canada. Producer Phil Spector, poet Allan Ginsberg and writer Timothy Leary all sang on the song.
- Elvis Presley
The two-room shack in Tupelo, Mississippi, where Elvis Presley was born on January 8, 1935 was opened to the public as a tourist attraction.
1972 - The Eagles
The Eagles released their debut studio album. The album was an immediate success and produced three top 40 singles 'Take It Easy', 'Witchy Woman' and 'Peaceful Easy Feeling'.
1975 - The Rolling Stones
The Rolling Stones kicked off their biggest ever US tour at Louisiana State University. The tour would take in 45 shows in 26 cities. Guitarist Ronnie Wood joined The Stones on tour for the first time, replacing Mick Taylor.
1991 - David Ruffin
American soul singer David Ruffin died of a drug overdose. After taking a large amount of cocaine Ruffin passed out, a friend drove him to a hospital in Philadelphia, where he later died. With The Temptations, had the 1971 US No.1 & UK No. 8 single 'Just My Imagination' and 'My Girl' (which Ruffin sang lead vocals). Solo, (1975 US No.9 & UK No.10 single 'Walk Away From Love').
2017 - Jerry Garcia
The sale of Jerry Garcia's favourite guitar, Wolf, raised millions of dollars for a civil rights group when an auction of the custom-made guitar fetched a total of $3.2m (£2.5m). It was bought at a New York charity concert by Brian Halligan, CEO of marketing group HubSpot and a lifelong fan of the band - or a "Deadhead". The money raised would go to the Southern Poverty Law Centre.
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Lewis Sheridan Leary (March 17, 1835 – October 20, 1859), a harnessmaker from Oberlin, Ohio, joined John Brown's raid on Harpers Ferry, where he was killed. His father was a free-born African-American harnessmaker. He was born in Fayetteville, North Carolina. His paternal grandparents were an Irishman, Jeremiah O'Leary, who fought in the American Revolution under General Nathanael Greene, and his wife of African, European, and Native American descent. His great-grandfather, Aaron Revels, fought in the revolution. Through Revels, he was a cousin to Hiram Rhodes Revels, the first African-American to serve in the United States Senate. His brother was a North Carolina politician and lawyer, John S. Leary. In 1857, he moved to Oberlin. There he married Mary Patterson, an African-American graduate of Oberlin College. He became involved with abolitionists in Oberlin, which had an active community. He met John Brown in Cleveland. In 1858, he participated in the Oberlin-Wellington Rescue, when fugitive slave John Price was forcibly taken from the custody of a US Marshal to prevent his being returned to slavery in the South. He was not among the 37 men (12 of them free African Americans) who were indicted and jailed for their actions. As a result of negotiations between state officials (who had arrested the US Marshal and his party) and federal officials, only Simon Bushnell and Charles Henry Langston were tried; both were convicted, and served light sentences, in part because of Langston's eloquent speech in their defense. He may have been the first recruit from Oberlin to join Brown's army. He left Mary and their six-month-old daughter Lois at home. Accompanied by John A. Copeland, he went to Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, to join Brown. He died eight days after the attack from wounds suffered in the conflict at Harper's Ferry. Copeland was captured, tried, and executed. After his death, the abolitionists James Redpath (editor for the New York Tribune) and Wendell Phillips helped raise money for Mary and Lois Leary's support and the girl's education. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence https://www.instagram.com/p/Cp422IIrtP7/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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#Wesley Snipes#Simon Phoenix#Denis Leary#Benjamin Bratt#Alfredo Garcia#Sandra Bullock#Lenina Huxley#Sylvester Stallone#John Spartan#Demolition Man#Marco Brambilla#Daniel Waters#Robert Reneau#Peter M. Lenkov#90s
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Operation Dumbo Drop (1995)
I'm often asked, “With so many good movies out there, why waste your time on bad ones?” Quite simply, I give every movie a chance. You never know. After seeing Operation Dumbo Drop, I wonder if this isn't naive optimism. I can’t imagine any way this story could’ve worked.
Set during the Vietnam War, Captain T. C. Doyle (Ray Liotta) is taking over from Captain Sam Cahill (Danny Glover), who has been living in the village of Dak Nhe, significant due to its proximity to a clandestine weapons supply route used by the Viet Cong. When Doyle’s actions cause the death of the village’s elephant, the Americans set to make amends by finding a replacement pachyderm.
There are many reasons why this film simply doesn’t work and the most obvious one is the rating. This is a PG-rated war film. Consequently, there are numerous moments where people are knocked on the head instead of being shot. Repeatedly, we’re explicitly shown that a boatload of soldiers jump ship before it gets blown up, etc. It’s bad enough that we’re focussing on, let’s admit it, a trivial, cutesy little story set during the war. It’s made worse by treating it as a game. I dunno why soldiers have traumatizing flashbacks of 'Nam; you get to hang out with elephants and make friends with little kids, stealing army material gets you a slap on the wrist and hardly anyone died. What's the big deal?
Even if you made this a hard-hitting, brutally honest R-rated picture and made the picture's villain, Captain Quang (Vo Trung Anh), someone to be legitimately featured you still wouldn’t have a very good movie. The characters are single schtick cardboard cut-outs. Without even looking at what the real story was, you can easily pick out every scene inserted to stretch what would’ve probably been a since-column newspaper story to feature film length. The movie feels phony with its lack of blood, violence or death and feels even more artificial with all of the wacky shenanigans on display.
To this operation’s credit, it does become less grating as it goes along. This may be due to the climax, which is absolutely preposterous and so stupid you’ll actually crack a smile - something that never happens in any of the previous scenes, no matter how hard director Simon Wincer tries.
Someone at Disney learned of this goofy chapter in American Warfare, which is why there are references to Dumbo throughout the film. This thin thread led to the creation of a big, artificial stinker. I say next time, take more liberties. Make the elephant actually fly so we can wrap this up in an hour. Actually, go even further. Make it a teleporting elephant so we only have a five-minute movie. (On YouTube, January 19, 2018)
#operation dumbo drop#dumbo#simon wincer#gene quitano#movies#films#reviews#movie reviews#film reviews#Danny glover#ray liotta#Denis leary#Doug e. doug#Corin nemec#1995 movies#1 star movies#1 star movie reviews#adamwatchesmovies
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Delicate Edges (Epilogue)
series summary: Trapped under a mountain of debt to the Hydra club, it is only in moments when Bucky walks into your flower shop that you forget the cruelty of the biker clubs of this town. But a war is brewing. And Bucky will stop at nothing to keep you safe. (Biker!AU)
pairing: Bucky x reader
chapter word count: 4.7k
chapter warnings: the fluff you so rightfully deserve, the end of the series
series masterlist / series playlist
The bell at the front of your shop sang in time with the tambourine in Simon & Garfunkel's Cecilia. A revolving door of customers, laughter filling the small room as fingertips brushed against petals and admired the stunning display of colors brightening the walls. A toddler rushed around the feet of the guests, running after a fallen leaf that caught onto the gust of wind from the open door. He chased it with the contagious swell of childhood laughter until smiles broke out on every face in the shop.
Ever since Loki took over the Hydra club, the predominate fear that had taken hold of the town had subsided. He forgave the debts of those made under Pierce’s authority and cut back the interest rates for ones made through Rumlow, actually giving folks a chance to climb out of the hole they’d been forced to dig with a skull and tentacled shovel.
The size of the town seemed to double overnight – drawing in new faces to your shop and leaving the sidewalks busy with foot traffic. Whether it was people from the east who had found the courage to cross the border again or if those in the west were finally able to leave their homes without the fear of running into the Hydra club, you supposed it didn’t matter.
The town was healing. Rumlow was dead. Dot skipped town. And Rollins was charged with the murder of his former boss – a rather cunning move on Loki’s part to successfully rid himself of Rollins and escape jailtime himself. The rest of the Hydra club fell in line behind their new leader. Perhaps, because he offered a level of respect Rumlow had never freely given. Loyalty, as it turned out, did not have to be won purely on intimidation and violence alone. Loki found a way to earn it through compromise and the iron clad strength of his word.
The truce between the Hydra club and the 107 gave this town back what it had lost over the decades – it’s humanity.
You’d forgotten what it felt like to feel the rush of anticipation in your veins when you opened shop in the morning and turned on the lights. How sweet the flowers smelled when they were freshly cut and the glowing smile upon customers’ faces when you presented them with their bouquets, always brighter and lovelier than they’d imagined.
It was a dream you never wanted to wake up from. A world you never believed possible just a few months ago. And now—here it was. Real. Tangible. Wonderful.
Ms. Leary placed her usual Tuesday order on the counter, patting the stems lightly with a strange sort of pride upon her features. Her smile was tight, pressed high, and she slid the cash across the table without waiting for the total.
“I like this look on you, deary,” she said cheekily. Today, she wore a softer shade of pink drawn over her lips. It matched the blush upon her cheekbones. She turned a trembling hand as you placed her change into her palm.
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” you replied, though you could feel the subtle ache in your face – the prolonged exposure of a smile you hadn’t been able to wipe for the last two weeks. You couldn’t have suppressed it if you had tried.
“I’m just glad to see you followed my advice.” She raised a thinning brow at you, lips puckered.
Then, as if on cue, Bucky strolled through the front door. The bell chimed over his head and he glanced up at it; hands tucked tight into his pockets to make himself as small as possible in order to weave through the crowd. The moment his eyes caught yours, something in his body melted – his shoulders giving way to the tension, his breath falling easy in his chest. Pure relief.
Ms. Leary turned back to you, a prideful look upon her features as she grinned. You sighed, biting at your lip because the damn smile only grew the longer Bucky looked at you. He stepped forward, giving a polite smile to Ms. Leary, before he pulled his hand from his pocket. Nestled between his fingers was a disfigured dandelion he must have picked from between the sidewalk cracks outside your shop.
You took it from his hands, allowing your fingertips to linger just a moment longer against his before you tucked the stem of the flower behind your ear. Bucky exhaled, his hand landing against his heart.
“Beautiful,” he sighed, swooning like the actors in your mom’s old movie collection. He winked at Ms. Leary and it only seemed to drive her point further. She gathered her bouquet in her arms, promising to tell her husband all about the new developments on her way out the door. You only laughed when Bucky asked you what she meant.
“Give me a few minutes?” you asked, gesturing to the line that had formed by the register. It had been busy like this since the day you reopened the shop. It was like something sparked inside of you again – the fear slipped like water through your hands, the sun warm against your skin. The endless pit in your stomach making way for the swarm of butterflies Bucky had left in its place.
“Take your time, honey,” Bucky grinned, propping himself up against the desk at the back of the shop. His arms folded over his chest, a proud look upon his face as he watched you.
You tried to shake off his stare as you returned to the customers, happily tying ribbons around the bouquets and filling the register higher than it had been in years, but something about the way Bucky watched you left you feeling warm inside. Safe. His gaze was always welcomed – encouraged, even.
It did not slip your notice when several of your customers glanced in his direction, how some smiled at him or offered a shy wave of their hand. They recognized him from around town, many knew his name and the reputation that had marked him as a villain.
But they had listened to the rumors once before, and they listened again when the story began to change. They listened as word spread of the man who donned the mask of the vicious leader of the 107 and sacrificed his heart to protect what little of the town he could, who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and only ever wanted to keep his family safe. This wonderful, kind man who was not the monster they believed him to be, but the one who slayed the demon who had ruled the west.
They began to recognize him for what he was – a hero.
After the last customer left the shop and the bell chimed over their heads, Bucky swooped in and caged his arms around your waist. He spun you toward him – wasting not a single second as his lips captured yours. Grinning so widely you could taste the laughter on his breath.
Between kisses, he said, “I’ve got something for you.”
You pulled back, intrigued. “Another dandelion from the sidewalk?”
Bucky frowned, pouting rather dramatically as you teased him. The line of a healing scar on his cheek pinched in the effort and you delicately reached up and ran your thumb sweetly against it until he relaxed.
“You’ll have to wait and see, doll,” Bucky replied, being withholding on purpose for making fun of his dandelion. It still nestled behind your ear as he drew a line along your face.
Then, he took you buy the hand and let you through the front of your shop. You locked the door behind you, taking a moment to admire the displays of flowers in the windows – arrangements your parents would have been proud of, filled with the colors that reminded you of them the most. Your mother’s blue dresses and the faded embroidery on her apron. Your father’s gold watch and the various shades of red and white plaid shirts he wore until the fabric was torn and frayed.
The keychain Bucky gave you the night you met swung in your grip before you tucked it into your bag. You found Bucky waiting for you on the sidewalk, leaning against his bike. You stilled, eyes narrowing.
“You got me... a ride on your bike?”
Bucky laughed, full bellied. “No. Your present’s back at the Centenarian. But I was thinking I’d drive you this time.”
He patted the seat and that was when you noticed the second helmet hanging off the handlebars. You wondered how long ago he must have gotten that because your initials were engraved into the nape, the same way Bucky’s were on his. He swung a leg over the body of the bike, gesturing for you to follow.
Nervously, you brushed your hands down the front of your jeans, thankful that you’d elected not to go with one of the many dresses in your closet. You set your hands on Bucky’s shoulders, using him to steady you as you climbed on behind him. He gave you a moment to get used to the feel of it, allowing your hands to slide around his waist, your chest pressed tightly to his back.
“How’s it feel?”
“We’re still parked, so it’s not so bad,” you replied, hearing the nerves in your voice. Bucky covered your hands with his own, leaning back over his shoulder to kiss the crown of your head.
“You’ll be just fine, honey. I’ll go slow for you.”
“You better.”
Bucky laughed as he passed you the helmet. Before you could slide it over your head, you caught glimpse of a figure standing across the street – watching you. You stilled as the pristinely tailored suit and expensive black shoes stepped into the sunlight. Loki gave a short nod in your direction, lifting his hand in recognition and he was—waving?
Bucky raised his hand in return, confused and hesitant in his movements, but it seemed to be enough for the new Hydra leader because he gave a thin smile and turned back to his walk. If the pedestrians knew who he was, they didn’t react to his presence as he strolled through the town. Some parted for him, scurrying quickly to the edges, while others have him a stiff, though welcoming smile.
Bucky let out a tense breath, shaking his head. “I will never get used to that.”
You agreed and then swiftly pulled the helmet on and adjusted the straps. Bucky did the same, and soon, the bike was roaring to life under you. You could feel the vibration settling into your body, the warmth of the metal and leather. You could barely hear yourself think, but you could feel the strength of Bucky’s body pressed against yours. Your arms caged around his waist – perhaps a little too tight, though he didn’t object.
He turned out onto the street and you held onto him as if he’d raced 80mph down the highway. You could only vaguely hear him chuckling to himself as he picked up speed, though not enough to rattle you, as he crossed through town.
The border didn’t exist anymore – the red X scrubbed off the sidewalk only days after Bucky and Loki’s deal – but it was a challenge to remind yourself that things had changed. You’d practically grown up under the rule of Hydra; first with Pierce, then Rumlow. Rewiring your brain to see Loki as an ally, to know that you could sleep soundly on the first Tuesdays of the month, to be able to love Bucky in the light of day and not worry for the enemies lurking over his shoulder, was more challenging than you anticipated.
The bike pulled to a slow stop at the one red light in town. The engine purred under you as you relaxed your grip around Bucky’s waist. He whined and tugged your arms around him again before you could let go. Laughter came easily to you these days. The light turned green and you clung onto him again. You could hear him chuckling to himself even over the rush of the wind.
When Bucky pulled up to the Centenarian, your hands were locked against him. He shifted the bike into park and turned off the engine, removing his helmet. His hands gently coaxed over yours, easing the tension out of your fingers until you unlatched him. When he pulled away your helmet, he was smiling wide enough to brighten the blues in his eyes. Perfect, wonderful blue eyes.
“You’ll get used to the ride,” Bucky teased, setting down your helmet as he offered you a hand to help ease you off the bike. You weren’t so convinced, but you supposed that as long as it was Bucky you were holding onto, you’d survive just about anything.
“Hey Mr. Barnes!” a voice called from the open green next to the bar. A kid, no older than thirteen jogged after a soccer ball that had rolled its way off the field. It came to a stop under Bucky’s boot. The kid paused, waiting, and spared a short glance over his shoulder to his friends watching in the distance.
Bucky leaned over slowly and picked up the ball. He tossed it once in the air, as if to test its weight, and threw it back to the kid. The boy lit up as he slowed the momentum of the ball by allowing it to hit his chest and drop to the ground. He kicked it back to his friends who quickly jumped back into the heart of their match. The kid lingered a little longer and dipped his head at Bucky – a silent acknowledgement, a quiet ‘thank you.’
You were grinning at Bucky when he turned back to you, his hand extended in your direction.
“What?” he chuckled, though pink warmed his cheeks.
“Nothing,” you said with a shrug, though your inability to stop your smile from aching on your cheeks spoke otherwise. For the town to start seeing Bucky as the good man you knew he was – it was not something you could easily bring to words. The same children who had once run away in fear now waved to him from the sidewalk. It removed years of weight from Bucky’s shoulders.
Hand in his, Bucky led you along the sidewalk to the Centenarian. You took your time as you walked, savoring these last few moments where Bucky was entirely yours. Slowly, he pulled your joined hands to his lips and sweetly kissed at each of the knuckles. His own were scabbed over and healing from the night everything had changed and still, you tugged his hand to your mouth and mimicked the same kisses. Bucky watched you with a sort of awe on his features you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to.
Through the open windows of the bar, Dolly Parton’s 9 to 5 carried out through the jukebox – not doubt at Barton’s doing. You wondered briefly if Tony had given him a hard time about it, given his history of revoked jukebox privileges, but decided quickly that no one in good conscious could ever turn down a Ms. Parton classic.
Though a smile etched on your lips, you could still feel the gnawing twist of anticipation the closer Bucky led you to the door. It wasn’t that you hadn’t been back since the night Rumlow and Hydra swarmed the bar and beat Bucky to a pulp – because you had. You'd seen the faint droplets of blood on the wooden surfaces the cleaning products could not absorb – tiny speckles of red splattered as they flew from Bucky’s broken lip on the knuckles of vile men. Less noticeable than the stain from where he’d recovered from the knife wound before he met you, but still – your eyes were drawn to it. Capturing you. Paralyzing you.
Bucky had kept himself within your reach the entire time, his touch lingering against you in one way or another. His contact didn’t waiver – constant reminders that he was there with you now and the memories threatening to drag you under could not take hold as long as he held you.
The longer you stayed in the bar that first night back – caught up in the strums of Fleetwood Mac on the jukebox and the laughter carrying from the chosen family circled around the bar – the looser the knot in your chest came undone. Reminders that good had happened within these walls more than the darkest of horrors you’d faced. And if Bucky could stand by your side, only feet away from the evidence of the violence done to him and still have the capacity to laugh and smile and feel something other than crushing fear – so could you.
Bucky slowed his pace for you as he approached the doors, his perceptive nature catching onto your long, drawn in breaths as you readied yourself. You would learn to find comfort in this place again. With so much joy bursting through the windows as the chorus of 9 to 5 carried on the off-key pitches of the semi-inebriated voices inside, you gathered the strength to open the door yourself.
Your name was called in every direction as you stepped inside, a rush of relief into your bones. Bucky squeezed your hand, giving you a wink as if to say, ‘See? I knew you’d be just fine, doll.’
Peter was waving at you from across the bar, several french fries in his hand as he attempted to follow the lyrics to the song on his phone at Stark and Barton’s rather aggressive demand. The two of them were arm in arm, beers sloshing over their hands as they sang loudly by the jukebox.
Natasha, Sam, and Steve were all sitting at the bar. They raised their drinks as you looked to them with what you could only describe as pride upon their faces – bright smiles in line with the fresh bouquets adorning the ends of the bar.
But it was the older woman with the bright red bandana pulled around her hair that stole your attention. She crossed the room with her arms stretched out, a motherly glow about her features as she swooped Bucky into her arms. You laughed as Bucky exhaled a surprised grunt and you released his hand. You stepped back, grinning as he struggled to break free from her hold.
“Good to see you in one piece again, sweetheart,” Mrs. Marcovaldo grinned, the thick Italian accent rolling over every word. When she finally let him go, a frown quickly pressed at her lips and she swatted the back of his head. “Now introduce me to this lovely young lady properly.”
Bucky rolled his eyes, though he was fighting his smile. “This is Y/n. She’s--”
"The beautiful florist from across the border who capture our sweet boy’s heart!” Mrs. Marcovaldo finished, her arms already opening for you. You glanced at Bucky and he gave a short nod of encouragement. There wasn’t much saying no to this woman, you supposed, but maybe there was something about her motherly charm that pulled at every heart string you head. When her arms closed around you, you melted against her. She seemed to sense the loss you felt – the emptiness of being without your parents for so long – and her hand rubbed gentle circles on your back.
“Anytime you need a hug, you come find me,” Mrs. Marcovaldo soothed and you found yourself hugging her a little tighter. When she finally let her arms fall from around your sides, she reached out and pinched Bucky on the arm. “Don’t go hiding this one away again!”
“Eesh! All right, woman!” Bucky shooed her hand away when she tried to pinch him again.
Between their familiar bickering, you caught sight of a mop of bleach blonde hair swerving through the crowd. He settled at a table near the corner and beside him, holding a mug looked to be brought from her own café, was Wanda Maximoff. Your lips parted, staring at the twins, before you quietly excused yourself from Bucky and Mrs. Marcovaldo's teasing arguments.
“Wanda? Pietro?”
Wanda grinned as you sank breathlessly into the seat beside her. Pietro was too busy swooning over Natasha, his stare painfully obvious as he propped his chin up on his hand, hearts filled into his eyes. Wanda scoffed, waving him off.
“What are you doing here?” you asked giddily, barely able to contain the smile spreading higher on your face.
“Bucky invited us,” Wanda replied rather casually for the noticeable excitement tapping on her fingers. She glanced around the room at the people she once believed to be part of a notorious biker gang. “It’s exciting, isn’t? It’s still hard to wrap my head around. Feels like we’re doing something dangerous.”
There was a glimmer of excitement in her eyes as she tapped her nails against her coffee cup.
“You know they were never what the rumors made them out to be,” you reminded her with a teasing smile. Wanda nodded and still – her knee bounced under the table as she drew her bottom lip between her teeth. Poorly suppressing a smile as she watched Sam and Natasha bickering at the bar.
“You seem so happy,” she said with nothing more than pride and relief in her voice. Wanda set a hand along your forearm and squeezed. “I’m glad you found them. They’re like family to you, aren’t they? I can tell how much they love you. They... they seem like good people.”
“You know you were my family first, Wanda,” you told her. “You still are.”
She nodded, that soft smile still lingering on her face. “I suppose we have in-laws now, don’t we?”
When you laughed, it ached in your stomach. Only when it subsided, were you able to throw your arms around Wanda’s shoulders and hug her. There wasn’t enough appreciation in the world to convey to her how much she meant to you, that she was your rock for years before you ever met Bucky or his wayward family. But she understood. And she hugged you back a little tighter.
“Hey,” Pietro said, nudging your arm, oblivious to the heartfelt conversation between you and his sister. “What’s the redhead’s deal?”
“Oh, I’d stay far away from Natasha if you value your pride,” Bucky chuckled as he came up from behind, setting a comforting hand on Pietro’s shoulder. Pietro frowned, and returned to his rather obvious staring.
“Mind if I steal Y/n back?” Bucky asked, his attention turned back to Wanda.
Wanda could hardly hold back the smirk up her lips as she shook her head.
“Come on, doll,” Bucky leaned into your ear, “still got something special for you.”
You raised an eyebrow, cheeks flushing warm as he led you to the back office. You glanced around at the amount of people in the bar – friends, some Bucky considered his actual family. The walls were too thin for that and you knew the lock on the door was meaningless when so many held the keys. Still – something skipped in your chest at the thought. You smothered it down.
“Not here,” you warned, brushing your palms against your jeans, and Bucky shared a confused look with you for a moment before he burst into laughter.
“Oh honey, it’s not that,” he laughed, wiping tears from his eyes. “Although, I’m curious now that you mention it.”
“Bucky...”
“Okay, okay!” Bucky grinned as closed the door behind you, offering you the chair behind the desk. “Give me one second.”
You sank into the leather chair, steadying yourself on the unbalanced wheel with two hands upon the desk. Bucky scrambled around the room, opening drawers and filing cabinets in search of something. When he finally found what he was looking for Bohemian Rhapsody had slithered its way through the cracks of the door and the entire bar was singing in unison. Bucky looked down at the small, black box in his hands – about the size of a closed fist – before he extended it to you.
“What is it?” you asked, staring down at the box and the golden ribbon bowed at the center.
“Open it.”
You rolled your eyes playfully and did as he asked. The ribbon pulled easily from the bow, allowing the golden rope to slide from the box. You stole one last look up at Bucky, his hands wringing in his grasp, and then – you lifted the top of the box.
Inside, was your father’s gold watch.
Your eyes darted back up to Bucky, stunned. He gave you a nervous smile in return. The lid fell from your weakened fingertips, pulse skyrocketing at the sight of the watch pieced back together, it’s memory of Rumlow’s heel shattering the glass and fracturing the links clawing at the back of your mind. You ran your fingers over the glass.
“How?” you gasped.
“It's not all original,” Bucky explained slowly. “The glass on the face is new and there’s a few bolts that had to be replaced, but I tried to keep it as your father left it. All the scratches on the links should still be there. And the hands don’t move. They reset it to 4:08 like he had it. I tried to keep it as close as I could.”
You pulled the watch from the case, hands shaking as tears swelled in your eyes. Sure enough, there was still speckles of soil tucked between some of the gears on the face of the watch, scratches on the gold links from where your father had constantly bumped his wrist on the table with mumbled curse words you mother often scolded him for. Locked on 4:08 because your father never took it to the shop for a new battery before he died.
“I know it’s not the same,” Bucky continued, the nerves in his voice worsening the longer you sat in silence together. “If it’s too much, just say the word and I’ll take it back, honey. I just thought... maybe...”
You set the watch on the table, crossed the room to Bucky, and with more determination than you’d felt in years, set your hand against the back of his head and brought his mouth to you. Words died on his lips as they fell between yours, his body sinking into you as his hands looped at your waist. Tears slid against your cheeks as you kissed him – a rush of pure, unbridled happiness unlike you'd ever felt. Words could not simply do it justice.
When you finally pulled back, breathless, Bucky chuckled, “so I did good?”
You laughed, throwing your head back as Bucky picked up the watch from the table. He unclasped the link and slid it around your wrist. Once it hung loose against your arm once again, you set your hands against his cheeks.
“I love you,” you said. The heaviest words you’d ever spoken and yet, when you said them to Bucky, they were light as air.
Relief peppered on his face, coaxing through the worry lines on his forehead. When he smiled, you felt the shift in his features under your palms – tangible proof of his unbridled affection. He turned his head, shifting only enough to press his lips to the inside of your hand.
“I love you, too,” Bucky exhaled, an aching sigh from his lips.
This wonderful, brave man who selflessly cast himself to the shadows, who dared to take your hand as you both stepped back into the comfort of the morning light. This blue-eyed man who saved you in more ways than you could possibly count – an impossible debt that held no burden, no interest; one that was made entirely of devotion, one that was never expected to be returned.
But it was. And it had been.
Because for every day Bucky was able to hold you in his arms, a piece of his soul was saved, too. Drawn back from the darkness he made of himself to protect the town he loved. Given new life in the hands of the woman he loved. Smoothing his rough and jagged edges with feather light grace, with delicate kindness.
His florist in the west.
Your biker in the east.
---
Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this series, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#Bucky barnes#bucky barnes x female reader
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In the most recent Interview Magazine, Ben Whishaw (who can currently be seen (FINALLY!) in NO TIME TO DIE) interviews Andrew Scott. The two discuss Scott's current project, the Showtime adaptation of THE TALENTED MR. RIPLEY, simply entitled RIPLEY with Scott playing the titular Ripley and Dakota Fanning as Marge Sherwood and Johnny Flynn as Dickie Greenleaf.
Friends who have appeared in the play C-O-C-K (its upcoming staging will star Taron Egerton and BRIDGERTON's Jonathan Bailey) and in SPECTRE,
Whishaw and Scott also discuss social media and being open about one's sexuality. Whishaw mentions that oft said refrain about openly gay actors not being cast because execs felt it would ruin the fantasy for women and they wouldn't be attracted to these characters. I don't know whether it was by design or just coincidence but Phoebe Waller-Bridge managed to shoot that theory down when three of her FLEABAG well-received love interests were played by gay men: Scott (Hot Priest), Hugh Skinner (Harry) and Benjamin Aldridge (Arsehole Guy).
Speaking of Aldridge, during his downtime from Epix's PENNYWORTH where he portrays Thomas Wayne, future father of Batman (the show is readying its third series and will soon be available on HBOMax) he filmed the ITV miniseries THE LONG CALL, now airing.
Based on Ann Cleeves' series of books "THE TWO RIVERS", Aldridge plays DI Matthew Venn, who was exiled from his religious family and community for being gay must return to his hometown to investigate a murder.
The role somewhat hit home for Aldridge as he was raised in a very religious family, but his relationship and feeling of ease within his family came when his parents moved towards spirituality versus organized religion. He still says he's leary of returning to the community he grew up in because he fears not being accepted.
And while Aldridge has played gay roles before such as in the steamy short THRIVE
he's proud that this mini stars three openly queer actors as leads: himself, Pearl Mackie (DOCTOR WHO) and Declan Bennett (EASTENDERS) who portrays his husband.
THE LONG CALL also stars Juliet Stevenson (Riviera), Aoife Hinds (DERRY GIRLS, NORMAL PEOPLE and whose father Ciarán Hinds is dealing with all kinds of headaches thanks to Aidan Gillen, Clare Dunn, Emmett Scanlan and Charlie Cox in the RTE series KIN).
Next up for Aldridge: he'll be playing the husband of Jim Parsons (THE BIG BANG THEORY) in the tv adaptation of TV columnist Michael Ausiello 's heartwrenching memoir "Spoiler Alert - The Hero Dies in the End" which details the death of his husband.
If this acting doesn't work out for Ben he's well on his way to being a video vixen in a music video directed by his rumoured boyfriend photographer/director David-Simon.
youtube
#andrew scott#ben whishaw#Ripley#television#Tv#ben aldridge#Benjamin Aldridge#the long call#fleabag#lgbtqiia+#lgbtq characters#gay actors#aoife hinds#ciaran hinds#Kin#long post#Youtube#spoiler alert the hero dies
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Call Me Josh Chapter 20
“It seems like we have a new Rabbi on the scene.” The reporter says, “He, known as simply Joshua, made quite a scene at the Bethlehem Pennsylvania city park yesterday. Sitting on a hill, with his devoted audience listening from below, he delivered a several hour discourse on the Torah and God. This network had a reporter on scene who recorded the message. Let’s play some clips.”
Joshua sits on the hill, smiling as he talks about love, worship, prayer, and other topics.
“In studio today, we have Rabbi Leary to discuss Joshua and his message. Welcome Rabbi Leary. What do you think about what you have just seen?”
The older man, straightens his yarmulke and looks at the camera, his eyes firm. “I think the little rebel needs to do some more Torah study. His carefree attitude towards something as sacred as Torah is a disgrace.”
“He seemed to be talking about love. That isn’t a bad thing, is it Rabbi?”
“Of course not! But God has given us His instructions in Torah. How we interpret His commands isn’t up for debate, especially not from a young man who is still in school. If he wishes to learn, he needs to finish his schooling and then I would welcome him to one of my many Torah schools. Until then, he is a danger. Out there confusing the people. He even had non-Jews in that group! Inexcusable!”
Other networks also cover Joshua’s first major sermon. Other commentary is more forgiving. But no one finds complete agreement in what he says.
They want to bring him into their various studios for interviews but he turns them all down. He wants to address the people face to face. He wants to be where he can touch them.
Walking down the streets of his town, his friends behind him, they draw a crowd. They are all around them. Suddenly, he stops. His eyes scan the crowd.
“Josh, what is?” Simon asks.
“Who touched me?” Simon laughs.
“Josh, we can barely walk because of the crowds. What do you mean, who touched you. Everyone is.”
“No, this was something else. Someone drew Power out of me.”
A woman steps forward. The crowd let’s her through. “It was me, sir.” She admits. Her eyes are downcast, her hair lays in tangles on either side of her face. “I have struggled with ovarian cancer for years. No treatment works. They have given me less then three months. I thought if I…”
He smiles, lifting her face up. “Daughter, go in peace. Your faith has healed you.” Her eyes light up and she hugs him. They are both laughing with joy and the crowd gives a shout.
People come from all over the country to see him. They bring their sick children, themselves. They seek healing, a word of comfort, to just hear him speak. He doesn’t turn any away. His family is concerned.
Mary sends James and Jude to fetch him out of the crowds one day. They arrive in time to hear him answering a question from a sceptic. “So Joshua, are we to pay taxes or not?”
He sighs and answers. “Let me see a dollar.” The man trying to trip him up, hands him one.
“What does it say here?” He points to the words under George Washington’s picture.
“In God we trust.”
“So, we trust them with their percent and God with his.”
All there are amazed at his answer. His brothers walk up to him. “Josh, mama is concerned about you. She wants you home.”
“Okay brothers.” He stands, “Honor your parents, always.” He tells the crowd.
“Amen!”
Another day, they are walking through the bad part of town. His friends, followers, are a bit concerned. Joshua isn’t. “I go where my Father sends me. Someone here needs me.”
They turn a corner. “Who is there? Is that the Joshua that the television speaks of?” A voice calls out. They see him, in alley, between two trash cans.
“It is.” Joshua replies.
“Joshua, I want to see.” He says. Standing, his layers of clothes, strange in the late summer heat. Several of his followers back away at the smell of him. Joshua moves closer.
“You are blind and want your sight?”
“Yes! Please Joshua.”
He touches his eyes and looks up towards his Father. “Then you shall see.” He moves his hands and the man, who he sees isn’t much older then they are, stares at them with a new light in his eyes.
“I can see! Praise God, I can see! Thank you, oh thank you!” He dances around the alley. Catching a glimpse of himself in an cracked mirror, he stops. “Oh, this can’t be right. I need to get cleaned up.”
“Guys, take him to Hope House, to get cleaned up and get a meal.” Joshua directs.
“What about you?” Margret asks. He smiles at her.
“I have another appointment here. Don’t worry.” They reluctantly leave, the now seeing man, exclaiming over everything. He moves to another part of the alley and sits down, crossing his legs and waiting.
She walks slowly, her eyes hidden by the amount of makeup she wears. Her high heels make a clapping noise as she walks up. She stops , startled, at the sight of Joshua. “You seem to be lost.” She says. Her voice is husky from years of smoking.
“I am not the one lost, Rashad.” Her eyes get huge.
“How do you know my name?” She demands.
“You left home because you father was abusive, hoping to find a better life. Instead you are still being abused. You don’t want to be doing this but don’t feel you have a choice. You do. I promise you do.”
Her eyes lose their hardness and she starts to cry. “Who are you?”
“Call me Josh. Rashad, God sees you, He loves you. He forgives you.” She shakes her head.
“He can’t .”
He raises to his feet. “He does. He forgives you for leaving your sisters. Can you?” She gasps as she starts to fully sob. He hugs her, with the first gentle, non-sexual touch, she has felt in years. Her sobs get louder, harder.
“Who are you?”
His eyes twinkle as he answers, saying for the first time, “His Christ, your Redemption.”
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