#Jeramiah's story

[rewriteyourhistorywithgod]

Jeremiah 29:11 TW Abuse

“For I know the plans I have for you. This is the Lord’s declaration. Plans for your well-being, not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.” Jeramiah 29:11 CSB

Jeramiah 29:11 has quickly become my favorite verse. I have found that it has applied through majority of my life. For if God didn’t have a plan for me, I would not have survived all that was meant to kill me.

The first attempt on my life was early on. I was roughly 6 years old. I was thrown down a set of concrete second story steps by a person who was supposed to help keep me safe, my stepfather at the time. I was hospitalized, had a seizure, and wasn’t supposed to make it. Instead, I survived. Had God not had a plan for me in accordance with Jeramiah 29:11 I would not have survived. While in not surviving I would have been saved much more pain, heartache, torture, and hatred. I also would not have experienced love, motherhood, grace, or God’s forgiveness.

“Though they intend to harm you and devise a wicked plan, they will not prevail.” Psalm 21:11 CSB

While most of my life was spent with wickedness towards me, God’s grace and protection kept me safe. I never knew how I survived just that I had. As I dive deeper and deeper into God’s words and his plan for my life, I realize it was God and God alone that kept me alive.

When I was 8, my stepfather attempted to take my life again. For I brought the wrong trashcan, and my punishment was to have my head bashed in with a hammer. Multiple strikes later and I was left unconscious on the floor in hopes of my demise. God came through for me again. He ensured I survived, and no harm had been done to me due to the evil actions of another.

The wicked plan to end my life was once again thwarted by God. God wanted me for a bigger purpose and no wicked plan would prevail against God’s plans for me and my life.

“Lord, do not grant the desires of the wicked; do not let them achieve their goals. Otherwise, they will become proud.” Psalm 140:8 CSB

The next attempt on my life was a few years later. For my crime was my brother was slapped and therefore I had to have done it. I was pinned to the ground, choked till I blacked out by a grown man of 300 pounds. He would have held me till I died but the neighbor had intervened and pulled him off of me. When I went to school the next day my 5th grade teacher who I now believe was sent into my life by God to help, had noticed my marks. He had me sit in during recess and just listened. He made careful notes and had comforted me. Upon arriving home, I was greeted by a lady who looked at my marks and had me pack a bag. I was to be whisked away to my dad’s house immediately and my brothers placed in foster care.

I would love to sit here and type out that I was loved and wanted at my dad’s house. That my story was a happily ever after and it all was just perfect from that day forward. But then I would be lying to you. I am not in the business of lying.

For I was unwanted there by my stepmom. She ensured I was miserable with untreated ear infections that left me partially deaf, extreme diets that made me sick, and extreme rules that ensured I was intentionally left out of family time and anything that didn’t involve sitting on my bed staring at the blank wall. While clearly unwanted at least I was physically safe and that at the time was better than the alternative.

When finally returned to my mother, she had left the husband she had. While I was no longer physically abused in her care, I can’t help but feel I had emotionally been neglected. Rather than help me work through my emotions she instead would drag me off to the psychiatrist for further medicine to treat what she viewed as my multiple mental problems.

The day I started high school she decided to remarry. I missed the first day of school to be forced to attend her wedding to a man I did not care for. For in my eyes, he was no better than the previous one. To say I was wrong, is nothing short of an understatement. He was exactly like the previous one. Short tempered, physically abusive, and vicious towards us kids.

One particular memory I have is on Christmas Eve. He was screaming in my mother’s face, and I stood between him and my mom and very firmly demanded he not speak to my mother like that in front of us kids. With the blink of an eye, I was on the floor with his left hand wrapped around my throat and his right hand punching my face in. While he shrieked that I cannot tell him what to do and he could kill me right now if he wanted to.

In the moment I was wishing he would and even choking out the words do it. I was highly depressed and was already at the point of wishing for my life to just be done. Instead, he let go. His blood sugar had dropped, and he needed to seek a remedy. God dropped his blood sugar so I could escape. Escape I did. I became a runaway multiple times through my teenage years. Every chance I got I was out the door whether it be I was placed in my mom and stepdad’s care, foster care, or group homes. It did not matter I ran. The streets were safer and became my home.

“Peace, I leave with you. My peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Don’t let your heart be troubled or fearful.” John 12:27 CSB

While the world has given me brokenness, anxiety, depression, hatred, anger, and more but God has granted me peace. As I go through my story and heal of my darkest moments in my life, God restores me. He grants me peace and true unconditional love. This is the kind of love that no human can give but rather only comes from God. I am finding the peace I have longed for. The peace I spent many hours in a therapist’s office trying to obtain. Who knew all it took was God’s presence and me accepting him in my heart to not only grant me that peace, but the healing and calling my heart desired.

[mizu-no-doukeshi]

Bruce: I've always thought Jeramiah would be the emotinal one, seeing how he is such a drama queen.

Jeramiah: psh, please. Jerome cried while reading pollyanna ffs.

Jerome: Now that, that was only one time.

Jeramiah: YOU READ THAT BOOK 24 FUCKING TIMES JEROME.

Jerome: *loads shotgun* FUCK YOU.

[cillspropertea]

Flipped

Chapter 9: Stairs

The reader is Aberama Gold’s eldest daughter, Esmeralda Gold in this fic.

 Warnings: mention of death, choking, depression.

 This fic might have dark themes which may irritate or offend some readers. But if you’ve seen Peaky Blinders and are familiar with Thomas Shelby, you’ll be okay.   The story, plot, character histories and back stories might not be relevant to the original “Peaky Blinders” . Warnings will change per chapter. This is my first fic. Hope you all like it. English is not my first language.

 Do not hesitate to comment, reblog and engage. It works as fuel for my writing. 😉💙💙

 Synopsis: Your father’s one mistake shall alter your life’s direction forever.

  Word count: 2157

Esmeralda Gold

    The funeral was held the next day. What you understood was that Esme and John, defying Tommy’s direct orders, had left the premises of the Arrow house to attend Esme’s mother’s funeral. They had Peaky men with them, but they were of no use as a group of Changretta’s men had already been hiding near the funeral site at different spots, as their boss knew John had to be there to support his wife at this time of grief.

    Aunt Polly and Ada did not stop crying for a single moment. Arthur had been drinking non-stop while a straight faced Linda had quietly kept a count of the glasses. Esme was inconsolable. She was screaming, crying cursing while Polly and Ada tried to comfort her, as best as they could. Tommy was just quite. Eerily quiet. When Esme attacked him before letting him light the fire to John’s caravan, he still did not break his silence. You watched everything as if you were watching a movie. “You! Its all because of you! John had told me, he had told me how he’d asked you to let him go, let us go and live a normal fucking life!” Esme had grabbed Tommy’s collar, “But no, you’d told him to wait. Wait for what eh? For this?” she gestured towards the caravan. Everyone watched still, like the trees surrounding them, including Curly, an Uncle Charles, Jeramiah and the other members of the Shelby family, whose names and faces weren’t familiar to you yet.

    “Wait all of you, just wait until the days it’s one of your loved one’s in there… See how he doesn’t even fucking hesitate, ready to torch his broth…” Ada interrupted her, “Enough!” she firmly clasped her hands around hers, forcing her to let go of Tommy’s collars. Then her tone softened, “Don’t make him wait, he’s gone love, he’s gone…” Esme sobbed as her legs gave out. Ada pulled her into a hug, “Listen to me Esme, listen…” Ada held her face, forcing her to look into her eyes, “John would want him to do it, John would want Tommy to do it. You know it…” Esme, still sobbing, nodded and with one last hateful glance into Tommy’s direction she walked away with Ada near where Polly stood. Tommy wordlessly walked into the caravan. From where you were standing, you saw him placing a piece of paper on John’s casket before coming out of the caravan and lighting it on fire. Not a single eye was dry, not even yours as Esme’s sorrowful cries echoed in the woods, except Tommy’s. He just stared at the fire gradually engulfing his brother’s coffin with unblinking yet unfocused eyes.

-----

    After the funeral all of you sat in the cars to go back to Arrow house. Esme went with her relatives to the Lee territory as she could not stand Tommy’s presence at the moment, let alone live with him under the same roof. Arthur, Linda and Ada sat in the car behind yours, driven by Uncle Charles, while you Polly and Thomas sat in the one in front of theirs. There were two cars in front of you and behind the one Charles was driving, Knowing the vendetta was still on and the enemy must have planned something for today as well, as they knew that everyone would be here together, out of their safety zone. Just a few miles in Linda started having extreme pain in her abdomen. Tommy ordered his Uncle Charles to drive towards the hospital with the two cars behind them, one of which was ordered to lead them by Tommy. Polly decided to go with them when Linda told her that she’ll feel safer in her presence. So it was just you and Tommy in the Arrow house now.

    Thomas had simply gotten out of the car and walked, practically ran, to his office without so much as a glance your way. ‘What kind of a person starts working in their office the very same day they’ve been on the funeral of their younger brother?’ Tommy was simply emotionless, you’d decided. At 9:00 pm, the maid had come, with you dinner, to inform you that Thomas had asked her to tell you how everything was okay at the hospital but they still had to stay there as the Doctors had kept Linda under observation for the night. You were surprised at the relief you felt after hearing Frances. Were you getting attached to them? The Shelby’s? Shaking your head slightly you asked Frances to close the door when she left.

    That was not the only change you were feeling towards them. You’d felt something when Esme had attacked him at the funeral too. It was pity, you thought. ‘But does he deserve pity? Especially from me?’ you sighed, rubbing your temple, as you felt a headache approaching. The day had taken its toll on your weak body. You felt tired and hoped that this exhaustion would maybe help you sleep better then any of the nights you’d spent out of your home at the Gold… no! That was never your home to begin with. It never belonged to you neither did you belong there.

    You laid on the bed for hours but could not sleep. Something was bothering you. You felt so uneasy that you got up and started pacing in the room and just then you heard a loud sound outside. Standing still, you thought the worst. Had the enemy striked again? Gradually, after peeking outside your door, you walked outside towards the stairs, from where apparently the sound had come from. Just a few steps towards it, and you’d found the source of the disturbance. It was Thomas.

     It looked like he had taken a tumble on the first set of stairs. He was trying to get up but once again lost his footing and went down rolling on the second set of stairs too. You ran towards him on instinct and reached to touch his shoulder but stopped. He turned his head first looking at your outstretched hand and then up at your face. His temple was bleeding. “I fell…” he smiled, looking down. ‘Great! He is drunk’ you thought. He started to move again, “I am okay… I just need to…” he still couldn’t get up properly. You didn’t know what to do. You felt so confused and disoriented all of a sudden. You wanted to help him, but the idea of touching him made you… uncomfortable. Thankfully, right then, you saw Frances, in her sleeping gown, rushing down the stairs too. “Oh my goodness! Mr. Shelby are you okay?” she looked at you. “I just got here myself. He’s drunk and I think he lost his footing…” he cut you off, “I’m not drunk… I was just… I was…” his speech slurred, “I was just going to my room, so I came down the stairs…” he pointed upwards towards the first steps. “But your room is upstairs. Isn’t it?” you asked, looking between Frances and Tommy. He once again looked up and then frowned at you making a sound escape your mouth. You’d giggled! His eyes widened, as did yours. As if you didn’t know you could still make that sound. You couldn’t remember when you had last laughed or smiled even. Frances smiled too. “Yeah yeah! Laugh all you want ladies. You’re all mean anyway…”he sniffled that’s when you noticed his eyes. They were swollen. He’d been crying. He’d been crying in the office when you’d thought he was working. You swallowed.

    You and Frances helped him on his feet and to his room upstairs. You entered his room realizing how you’d never seen it before. Well, technically you hadn’t seen most of this house other than the kitchen, Polly’s and Charles’s bedroom and your own. But what truly surprised you was how the room looked so cozy and well decorated. For what you had known, it had been a while since his wife had passed away, but the room still looked like it belonged to a happily married couple. The dresser had perfume bottles and skin care products along with jewelry and clips discarded as if someone had just taken them off and placed them there after a tiring evening to go to bed. Dresses and shoes, no doubt of his wife, stood discarded at different spots of the area.The bed had silken sheets with matching and contrasting colored cushions. Plus there was something else too, something you couldn’t point your finger at yet.

     Frances left to get something to treat Thomas’s bleeding temple. It was not bad, but needed cleaning and a band aid. He sat on his bed, sipping from a glass of water while resting his elbows on his knees with one hand rubbing his face agitatedly.

     You stood in front of him, observing him. This was not ‘The Thomas Shelby’ you knew. You always thought he was this stubborn, rude brute who felt nothing and feared nothing, and by the looks of it, most of his family thought so too. But this person sitting on this bed seemed to be a sensitive, heartbroken and utterly shattered human being. A few drops of blood fell from his temple on to the carpet. Sighing, you knelt in front of him to take a better look at his wound and to assess, if it needed stitches. Gulping, you reached his chin, nudging it with your thumb to let you take a look at his forehead. “I just need to take a look at the cut…” your words halted when you saw into his teary eyes. Those danm blue eyes, the first time they had intimidated you, but right now they looked so… vulnerable. “Today was bad…” he mumbled looking down, taking another sip of water. “We were always together you know… Us, brothers”  he continued looking into your eyes, “Even during the war, we’d seen the thick and thin… and now he’s gone…”, a single tear dropped from them, “And the worst part is, he was angry at me… he went away still angry at me!”, you involuntarily reached with your hand to wipe it away with your thumb. And then his forehead touched yours as you both closed your eyes. You had not even realized you were crying too. You were remembering your own siblings, your younger brother and sisters, who were like your own children, after all you’d practically raised them. It had been so long since you’d seen them, hugged them or heard any news about them. “She pushed me you know… she pushed me from the stairs…” your eyes opened suddenly, “Who?” you asked, ‘Was he talking about Frances?’ you thought. “She didn’t mean no harm… she just wants me to join her…” nothing was making sense, who was he talking about? All of a sudden he grabbed your neck in a tight hold, choking you. Your nails scratched his hands but he was stronger. “You are loving this aren’t you?” he gritted, “You must feel so thrilled, so satisfied after seeing me like this…” you struggled as your knees buckled and you tried to get out of his steely hold. You were about to faint when he pushed you so hard that you fell backwards, on the floor, coughing and wheezing.

    “After everything I’ve done to you, everything you’ve been through because of me… this must be such a pleasing experience for you… pitying me aren’t ya?” He was scaring you in that moment, without saying anything you stood up and rushed out of the room, “Yeah, run away now, run away just like everyone always does…” you heard him say but you did not stop or returned. Locking your bedroom door behind you, you started pacing the room once again. The bundle of emotions inside of you felt ignited once again. There was this pressure of sorts in your chest that needed to be released, but how? You had not meant any harm, hell! You just wanted to help! Your mind was whirring but then all of a sudden it settled, like a click of a lock.

    You opened the door and deliberately started walking downstairs, towards the kitchen, almost near the basement. You did see Frances on the way, who looked concerned no doubt seeing your disarrayed state, but you dismissed her by saying you were just tired and wanted a cup of tea. Going into the kitchen you asked the chef for a man named Antonio. He was quite baffled at first, seeing you at this hour asking for someone like that, but then called his souse chef immediately. “Yes miss… Do you have an answer already?” he asked, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel with a knowing smile on his lips. You walked towards him and whispered in his ear, “Tell your boss I’ll do it. I want revenge on Thomas Shelby…”

[officialleehadan]

Good Man's Rules

Hello darlings! Today’s story was brought to you by Glenn! Darling, thank you so much for all your support! It means the world to me!

Prompt: "Good men don't need rules. Today is not the day to find out why I have so many." -Doctor Who

A Deal once Made

+++

“I notice you’ve a lot of rules for yourself.”

Jeremiah had been shuffling through his business ledgers, but he set them aside when Winifred Bull came through the door of his study. He had settled her and her family, including her brother, in one of the empty houses around town. Jeremiah liked to have a few empty, but ready whenever he could. The local carpenters appreciated the work, and it made sure that there were homes free for the taking whenever someone new and needy came to town.

The land was bought by Jeremiah, but the deeds tended to make their way to the residents after a year of settling into the town. He had more money than a king, and nothing better to do with it than to help anyone who needed it. Sometimes they got drifters who got word of free houses being given out, but they never state long. Not when the houses often came with the requirement to make a good member of the town of themselves.

They might have a few drunkards around town, but drunkards could still work hard, and Jeremiah didn’t suffer a mean drunk in his town.

“I have a demon livin’ behind my eyes,” he told Winifred, who had proven herself to be in possession of a lovely writing hand and a fine head for correspondence. Jeremiah had been needing a secretary for a while, but although the former whores in town were hard workers, they didn’t often have a lady’s education. Jeramiah wasn’t asking where Winifred, who insisted he just call her ‘Fred’, had gotten that sort of education. She and her brother spoke too pretty for being as poor as they were. “If I don’ have rules, good people get hurt.”

Fred tilted her head in thought. She knew about Lily of course. Billy knew all about it and would have told her, but Jeramiah laid out the story for her too, when he offered her a job.

No point in frightening a good woman with the demon who haunted his shadow. He wouldn’t have blamed her a bit for putting distance between them.

Fred, it turned out, was a stout soul, and hadn’t even flinched.

“Miss Lily being difficult today, is she?” Fred asked dryly, by now familiar for the days when Lily was pushing a little too hard to get Jeremiah to abuse the power he held over the town. It didn’t help that he liked Fred, but he would never ever put a toe out of line. Not with her or any woman who hadn’t made it clear that she wanted his attention. Given, he didn’t visit the whores either, but that was more because he never did have a fondness for the ladies of the night. “Good thing I brought you tea, and didn’t put a drop of anything else into it.”

“For the best,” Jeremiah said, although he did like a good drop of whiskey in the evenings. He wasn’t that virtuous, even before Lily moved into his mind. He took the tea and let her set the rest of the tray on an open spot on his desk. “It’s Friday. She always pushes harder, hopin’ I won’t go to confession on Sunday with Father Hennessey. Miss one, an’ missin’ the next is easier.”

“Hard way to live.”

“Better’n doin’ what she wants.”

That didn’t bear imagining. Jeremiah hadn’t known too much about what he was getting into when he first made his deal with Lily, but he understood it now. Anything Lily liked was trouble. Anything Lily wanted was something Jeremiah absolutely should never give in to.

“You’re a good man, Jeremiah Thompson,” Fred told him kindly, but Jeremiah could only smile, a little rueful and a little sad. “What?”

“A good man would’tv taken a kiss from a demon,” he said, not exactly regretful, but maybe a little mournful. He hadn’t exactly had a good life before he made his Deal with Lily, but his soul had been his own. “Ah, don’t worry about me, Miss Fred. Ain’t my first rumble with my demon, an’ it won’t be the last.”

“Wish we could help you,” Fred told him regretfully. She sat down at her little desk across the study from him, “You take such fine care of everyone in town. I’m not the only one who wishes we could give a little back.”

“You do,” Jeremiah said with profound surprise and sat back in his comfortable chair to regard her thoughtfully. “It was worth it. Every soul I save, Every person I help, knowin’ that they get into Heaven a little easier, That’s all worth my soul. I might never see the Pearly Gates, but I’ve stolen far more souls from Lily’s children than she bartered from me.”

That was a point of pride. Even better, it was a pride that displeased Lily, which he counted as a victory, especially when it came to sin. Given, his usual favorite sin was wrath, but pride did kick up once in a while.

“Is that why you do all you do?” Fred seemed thoughtful as she considered it. “Why you help everyone you meet?”

“There’s a fair few who wish they’ve never crossed my path,” Jeremiah corrected her with a dry chuckle. “Anyone I meet who’s making trouble for good folk. They wish they never met me.”

“I imagine those who you saved from them think otherwise.”

“Maybe. Now, you got the latest in from the big city? We’re about ready to start shipping the new bottles, an’ I was thinking about brinin’ on some new help to make the work lighter.”

+++

A Deal Once Made:

You Scratch my Back

Never Unto Heaven

Not a Whore's Grave

New Face in Town

Honest Man's Hat (Subscriber Only!)

Keep your Conscience

Approve What Matters (Subscriber Only!)

Finding Secret Finders (Subscriber Only!)

Good Man's Rules (New!)

+++

MASTERLIST

[incorrectwaywardguide]

Crispin: *shows up with a cut lip and black eye*

Jeramiah: What happened to him?

Odie: It’s a long story.

Crispin:

Jeramiah:

Odie: Actually, it's a short story: he did something dumb.

[bubtayworld-blog]

Live this Monday Cooking with Master Chef Jeramiah & Sous Chef Tarsha @themediacenter New Artist Daisy Gates singing Single "You Told Me " all the way from #Miami with a story to tell on #TIWBTSHOW also performing @hylifelouie and @ryangraves23 https://www.instagram.com/p/B5eYTyFnz10/?igshid=3c60q22mlemc

[hu-meow]

Gentleman Jack 1x02

Episdode 2! Episode. Whatever. It's like the opposite of episode 1, with loooots of Ann(e)s scenes! So, let's get into it, shall we? I mostly skip [over] the side stories, by the way lol...

1) Can I just say how fucking adorkable Miss Ann Walker is when Anne Lister shows up? (don't forget the little nod of the silent 'thank you james') She's nervous, excited, hides a damn newspaper behind the cushion! (which Anne finds later and I just find it hilarious). And then when Ann can barely say "give birth" like it's something dirty and horrible...TOO PRECIOUS. The only thing I love more than Nervous Ann is Hot Mess Ann (but that's not until later. heh.) And, there were two lip licks in the first ten minutes! (07:42 and 08:28)

2) Anne is pretty passionate about science and anatomy when she's explaining it all to Ann, who's literally just soaking it all in, but what got me thinking, is when Anne talks about the brain. She says it's her favorite, how complex it is and all. So I wonder, does Anne find Ann's mental health conditions well, not exactly a challenge, but you know. I suppose intriguing? Obviously she cares about her and wants Ann to get better, but I can't help but think, on some level, Anne was quite curious about Ann's mind in all aspects, and wanted to be there first hand for it all. I'm probably not explaining this very well, as I've went over it time and time again in my head, but hopefully ya'll get the gist of what I'm trying to say about it. And it's nothing negative, to be clear. So, likewise, I think Ann really opened up with Anne, and nearly immediately. As I said in the last post, Ann barely spoke in episode 1, but in this episode, she almost doesn't stop. I love it, and the chemistry between the two women (Suranne and Sophie) is phenomenal. Don't think we could have asked for better.

3) "What do you think Henry?" "Are you a man?" "I'm a lady woman." LOL fuckin kids man. Innocent and pure, and say it how it is. I don't have kids, but I do have nieces and nephews, and they just always crack me up. And they hear EVERYTHING. Henry wasn't talking, at all, and yet when Anne talks to him, he literally repeats everything Thomas Sowden had told him about the little wooden solider. It's a small scene, but I love it, as Anne doesn't interact with kids much throughout the season, but when shes does, she's usually pretty sweet with them. (Though she had just saw the other little guy and his father mistook the "is this yours" for the boy instead of the cart LOL) Also, can we see Anne sword fight in season 2?? For. Reasons??

4) "It is an old farm." (cow moos) LMAO that was just brilliant. Fuckin Marian. She even does a 4th wall break, she has a couple. Though hers are always "ffs, Anne." LOL But that "shed" Anne wants built, that is the same one she takes Ann to next episode, is it not? How da faq that get built so fast?? I mean, granted, it's probably been, maybe two months? Maybe?? So I don't know. The show is very loose with the timeline, well time flow? Random thought.

5) HOLY. FUCK. THE FUCKING. PAPER. FUCKING. KNIFE. Okay, it's not that exciting at first glance, but okay. Imma try to work this out without getting too crazy. SO. First couple times I watched this, I thought for sure, Anne totally broke it on accident. She is in her feels, Ann is about to take off (without her permission, da faq, right?) And Anne has a very strict, exact way she's courting Ann. Anne fidgets with her hands when she's upset (all encompassing word here), so it fell to reason the paper knife was just a product of all that. @/iredreamer had an ask that pretty much covered all that and I very much agreed; accident. HOWEVER. I just recently read another ask by @/thought-i-to-myself and she said hell no, totally a calculated incident. I thought, no, no way. All about the feels. And then I just watched the scene. I STAND CORRECTED. COMPLETELY CALCULATED. But, I don't think Anne meant to actually cut herself. But wow. Anne has game that is now a lost art. Okay, well, probably a bit Sally too, but you know. Damn. It was so good. Anne knows just how to say the right thing, or not enough or push just enough. It's truly amazing how fucking cool this chick is. And Ann eats it up like she's been starved her whole life. (which, I mean, is pretty accurate?) The scene leaves and then comes back, and that's when Anne really kicks it up a notch with the "have you ever kissed anyone" and damn. Poor Ann. She's in so deep and she doesn't even know it. And I think she was already there but again, didn't know it. She is totally "a little bit in love" with Ann, but can't understand the feelings. Well, les-b-honest, she's a LOT in love with Anne LOL. And then, good ol Anne, back peddles on the situation so it gives Ann time to process. And as Ann is looking out the window, smiling like a fucking adorkable fool, holding the bloody handkerchief, I s2g, it almost feels like Ann had a plan to pull Anne into her. Maybe it's just me, but either way, Ann is smug and satisfied asf. (there's a lip lick in one of those scenes, too)

6) Catherine Rawson and her "people" LOL Ann is so determined to know who these "people" are and she gets so damn defensive! (also, another lip lick, of course, because she's thinking about Anne). You stick up for bae, Ann!

7) LOL Anne giving the run down of the upper coal bed! I hate math but that was fantastic. Christopher Rawson is such a little bitch, making his brother Jeramiah do all the dirty work. And he doesn't even want to! But he can't go against his brother. Again, such a little bitch. But I do love his little dog lol Willy? Wally? I can't remember.

8) Blue dress! Again, I think it's the same one. I swear Ann only wears like, the same three dresses in the span of two years. But that's okay. She looks fantastic. I'm not complaining. And okay. so then Anne gives Ann the little gold gondola. It's so tender, and Ann is literally looking at Anne's lips like, the ENTIRE time. Bitch. Be. Thirsty. But, more of that later. She has so many feels and she doesn't even understand them. I can't love her enough, I swear. AND THEN. She lays those wonderful words of wisdom on Anne, and I shit you not, Anne looked like he was about to POUNCE. I honestly don't think Anne was expecting Ann to be nearly as interesting as she turns out to be. Which is why I think Anne falls so hard for Ann. Not just a pretty face, after all. ;)

9) Thomas, Anne's footman, lmao that boy. I swear every time he's called, he's having to fix his attire and he's nearly falling into the doorway. Bless that mess of a boy. He tries, but he's a long ways from becoming Thank-you-James.

10) I love the hat Anne wears to Vere's wedding. Same one she wears when she meets the Queen of Denmark? Unsure. Anyone know? Also, it got me thinking, I'm sure most people in this time, especially the wealthy, had their clothes made for him, yes? Anne's definitely would have had to have been custom made, right? And who dressed her before Eugenie? Wait, Elizabeth, right? But what about Ann? You only ever see Thank-you-James and the carriage driver (Name??) but does she not have a servant to help her dress? She's just unimportant? Hm. More random things I've (over) thought of.

11) Why no Lake District scenes??? That's more into episode 3, but still.. WHY?? Ugh why couldn't this season have 10 episodes instead of only 8. Boo.

RIGHT THEN. Thanks again for sticking around this overly long post of my ramblings. Okay wow this was stupid long. I truly apologize and I'll try to keep it shorter next time.

Counts:

*Anne's 4th wall breaks (ep): 5

**Total: 8

*Ann's lip licks (ep): 5

(07:42; 08:28; 30:36; 40:50; 49:35)

**Total: 6

(Bonus: 3 lip bitings from Ann...hnng)

[ruffiorocks]

Kara and the tape recorder

I couldnt sleep and this popped into my head.

Imagine Kara arriving on Earth and being afraid she may forget about Krypton. Her ship was taken away the moment she arrived, so any technology and/or all the crystals her father stored for her were taken away. She can't talk to Kal El, he has the worst broken Kryptonian she has ever heard. She knows he has a fortress in the Artic but he has never offered to take her there, plus she hasn't seen him since the day the he dumped her at the Danvers house.

Kara is constantly told by Eliza and Jeramiah that she is not allowed to speak Kryptonian anymore. She's had to pick up English really fast. Every time she accidently slips back into Kryptonese her new foster parents frown and give her the lecture about how she needs to keep her heritage a secret.

Alex notices that this is bothering Kara. She's not a fan of her new sister but she can hear her crying at night, they share a room after all. So she puts aside her annoyance at Kara's very presence in her house and asks her gently what's wrong. Kara is surprised since Alex never asks her anything. In fact the only time she speaks to her is to say something bad or tell her she's doing something wrong. She hesitates, and Alex can see the hesitation, so she gives her what she hopes is her kindest smile. Kara decides to tell Alex that she is afraid that if she continues to be forced to repress her heritage she will forget her language and her very memories of Krypton. Alex's first solution is give Kara a diary and she can write her thoughts in there. This works to begin with until Eliza catches her writing in both English and Kryptonian about her life on Krypton. Eliza takes the diary and explains that Kara isn't allowed to do that, if anyone found it they would all be in danger. She tells Kara she won't destroy it, but she will have to give the diary to Kal El to take to the fortress. Kara isn't pleased when Kal El turns up to take the diary and she's given the 3rd degree on how she needs to keep their secret, she could ruin him! He doesn't turn up again after that.

Kara's watched even more closely after that. Her lap top is regularly checked for a secret diary, she isn't allowed access to social media and she has the dullest phone that has no apps. Alex feels the limitations on Kara are far to harsh. She tells her mother that Kara just wanted to preserve her memories, Eliza is sympathetic but she tell Alex the same as she told Kara, that life is over, best to embrace her new one. She can talk about Krypton with the family but that is it.

Alex sees Kara becoming more withdrawn, she catches her reciting kryptonian lines to herself when she thinks she's alone. She even begins to tell Alex some stories so at least one other person will know if she herself forgets. Alex can't take much more of this, she's growing fond of Kara and isn't enjoying seeing the poor girl suffer.

Then one day all that changes! Alex has been tasked with clearing out the garage. While she's routing around she finds an old tape recorder. She's about to throw it out when it hits her! This is the perfect solution to Kara's problem. Alex quickly puts it aside and finishes her task. Once she's done she goes into town and finds a shop that sells blank tapes. She then goes home and grabs a moping Kara and tell Eliza they are going to the beach. Eliza doesn't question it, she's just happy they are getting along. Kara however, is beyond surprised, but she likes the beach so she gets up and follows Alex out.

Once they are at the beach Alex stops and produces the tape recorder. She tells Kara that it's essentially a primitive device and no one uses them anymore. They've moved on to things like dictaphones but Eliza would notice that and Kara would have to store the recordings on a memory card and then her laptop. She demonstrates to Kara how the tape recorded works and Kara's face goes from confused to ecstatic in seconds! She can record all her memories and her language. She could make translations in case she ever forget what something meant. She and Alex now had a secret together, she throws her arms around Alex, their first ever hug. Alex stiffens first but she deny that seeing Kara happy has made her happy to. She just tells Kara that she will need a good hiding place for the tapes. Kara frowns at that, but then Alex tells her about the cave near the beach that she found. It's to high up for water to get in and no one else ever goes there as far as she knows. So she tells Kara she will have to record her tapes there and store them there so Eliza and Jeramiah don't catch her.

16 years later and Kara and Lena are having a movie night. Lena is a bit chilly so she goes to Kara's closet to grab a hoody. She drops it and when she goes to retrieve it she notices a box labeled 'memories'. Lena goes back to the couch and snuggles into Kara, they start the movie but Lena is restless. Kara notices and she pauses the movie. She asks what's wrong and Lena hesitates, she didn't want to seem intrusive. But this is Kara, she won't think that. So she tells Kara she saw the box and she's a bit intrigued. Realisation dawns on Kara's face and she gives Lena a sad smile. She gets up to go get the box gently shrugging off Lena's protest that she didn't have to.

Kara returns to the settee, she takes a breath and then removes the lid of the box. Lena can see an old tape recorder inside and some cassettes. She gives Kara a curious but gentle look. Kara then tells Lena all about her fears of losing her memories of Krypton, of losing her very language and sense of self. She tells her about Eliza and Jeramiah's tough love tactics and how much of an ass Kal El was. She tells Lena about how her pod was taken the moment she landed and it wasn't until she was an adult and at the DEO that she learned her mother had left her an AI! She even tells the part where Kal El stole her diary and flew off with it. Lena is both crying and seething. Her heart is broken for Kara and her anger is roused at Kal El and even Eliza. Kara can see how worked up Lena is getting so she holds her hand and rubs soothing circles with her thumb. That's when she tells Lena about the solution Alex had come up with, how she had found the recorder and found a place Kara could record in secret. To this day Eliza and Kal El don't know about the tapes. Lena feels a rush of love for Alex and makes a mental note to buy her her favourite scotch, or maybe design a new gun for her!

Kara then nervously asks if Lena would like to hear some of the tapes. Lena is shocked! She protests and reassures Kara that there is no need, these are Kara's memories. But Kara just smiles warmly at Lena and tells her there is no one else (except maybe Alex) that she would want to share her memories of Krypton with. Lena is so moved she starts crying again and it takes Kara pulling her into her arms and sweetly talking to her for 10 minutes to get her to calm down. Once Lena is calm Kara puts on the first tape. They spend the rest of the evening listening to all the tapes, there is crying on both sides, lots of questions from Lena about Krypton, lots of laughs from Kara when she hears herself talking about the pranks she pulled on her father. A great sadness when she hears herself talk of her love for Astra and how she wished she could see her again. Lots of resentment towards Kal El and anger toward her parents for sending her away. Lena realises that these aren't just Kara's memories, it was also a window into how she truly felt about everything that happened. Once the tapes have finished they both go to bed, emotionally drained from the evening. Lena is lying with her head on Kara's chest when something occurs to her, she asks Kara if she ever got her diary back. Kara blinks like an owl and tells Lena that she never thought about it, not even when Kal El finally gave her permission to go to the fortress. Lena snuggles back downs and tiredly tells Kara she should think about retreaving it. She also tells her that if Kara wants to record again she will set up system so secure no one not even Brainy or Winn could hack it. Kara chuckles and hold Lena closer to her. She doesn't need a super recorder device to store her secret stories now, she had the best recording device snuggled into her chest and wrapped up in her arms. She'll tell Lena all about her life on Krypton. Then one day when they get married and have kids (because Kara is totally planning on proposing, she even has the ring picked out) she will tell their children all about their heritage. Kara will never forget who she is now because Lena reminds her every single day.

End.

[lucifer-kane]

Hey guys if you read this/reblog it I’ll be forever in your debt bc I finally did something in Helimire and might continue from here 

Christopher presses his hands into the cool white marble of the outside walls of Helimire’s city walls, his entire body shaking, the adrenaline slowly seeping from his body as he takes a moment to catch his breath. Well. This is the first time he’s been run out of the city in the many many years he’s lived in it. He knows who sent the assassins after him, that was obvious. The three bastard council members who have had it out for him since he started working in the capital. Attempting to pull himself, forcefully, up the latter to get his well deserved seat on the council.

They know him. They have a vague knowledge of who he is and what he wants to do and how he wants to change the city for the better. And that’s the thing. It’s for the better, for future advancement and betterment, like years before. The city is ready for change and Christopher could easily help with the things. With his scientific knowledge and ability to help with a numerous abilities the humans. Well those without magic he should say, that they will need help. Maybe not his own, but there are people already attempting to change how the city is. Not a lot, not badly. Just to advance their city for good.

But there are three people who seem to have a power over the rest of the council, people fear them because they’re just a step or two down from the king and queen themselves. They have the ability to hire mercenaries and assassins to deal with people they don’t like and will use those abilities to get what they want. Christopher has the ability to do the same things they do, as do other members of the council, but these three bastards. Briar, Jeramiah, and Garett, three very smart and powerful people who can manipulate anyone they can think of to follow in their paths. They constantly sway the vote of other board members, since all decisions have a majority governs all deal, and if the majority of the council doesn’t agree on passing something, then it doesn’t.

But they are senior members, have the power they do, and people just fear them at this point. Christopher doesn’t, a couple other council members don’t, but they have just enough of a grasp on the other members, that they’re overruled each time. But now Christopher is just damn tired and he wants all this to be over, the controversy is tiring and he, at this point, doesn’t want Helimire to fall to people like them, but if he doesn’t somehow figure something out soon, it will.

Right now though, he’s just going to take a time for himself, outside of Helimire. Not too far, he could never stray too far, this is his home and straying too far almost physically hurts him. So too his families old cottage he goes.

The hills outside of Helmire are beautiful, especially this time of the year when it’s warmest and he can smell the bright red and orange flowers that only grow in the thick cropping of trees, the ones his family planted when they were young. Christopher picks a few as he walks through the woods, coming to a large clearing where in the middle is a two story home, only slightly run down, not at all modern. He comes by to clean it up every few months, to keep it nice and good enough where he could come and stay for a little time.

Christopher takes a few hours to do some stuff around the home, building up a fire to make something to eat, because this home was so old that there was no dedicated place to cook that wasn’t the fireplace. It was always cold there, not because of anything weird, just because of the location, so the heat is good anyways. After that he sits down in the small cozy study that was half the size of the one he had in his home in Helimire, but he adored it. He wrote a couple of letters, one to his sister, wherever she might be. One to Silaf, who is one of the people who can easily tell both sides of the community where he is and that he’s okay, and one to William, his prince and a man who he doesn’t want to worry.

He was a little shocked that the man befriended him, but after a while he did realize. William Bello, the prince of Helimire, would rather spend his days in taverns as a undercover bard and artist, he liked the freedom he got, and his parents hardly could care. They were young and an heir wasn’t required of William, things worked different here and Christopher knew William adored the requirements. He didn’t have to do much other than learn and be tutored, but he was already advanced, mostly in art in music but he was wonderfully smart in other places as well.

He tells everyone where they can find him, giving Morgan only a few words since she could find him easier out of anyone, being his twin after all. William is the only one he has to give some detailed notes to, directing him out of the walls of the city of Helimire to the hills and deep into the woods there. While nothing bad came from the woods, there were all the normal dangers; wolves, bears, other such animals. Just in case the man wanted to visit. And Christopher hoped for it, just a little bit, in the back of his head.

But a few days go fast, he works like he usually does, going into the woods and grabbing random herbs and flowers from around the cottage, going deeper and hunting for something more than simple foods, a deer is good, they’re large here, the bucks taller than himself and almost frightening to look at. But he kills it easily, painless death with magic and he carries it back on a small wagon. He uses every bit of the animal, there’s no such thing as waste to him with these sorts of things, Christopher can use all of it, weather it be in food or in potions, he stores away all the other things besides the meat outside where nothing can get to it, and makes a simple stew for himself, in a large pot over the fire with some herbs and sweet flowers to give flavor and some vegetables that still grew wild just outside the cottage.

The clearing was overgrown, but the view wasn’t ugly, it was covered in flowers and foods, that while didn’t sustain any humans anymore, animals fed freely from it and with the magic Christopher dusted over it many many years ago, things continued to grow from it as time went on, 350 years and things were still like the day he planted them with his sister shortly before they moved to a rapidly growing Helimire city.

Being there, he was brought back to his childhood, thinking of when he and his sister were children, before their parents were gone and Helimire was even a blip on Astor’s radar. There are moments when he missed that time, where he misses his mother and father more than anything in the world and it hurts his heart. Tears well to his eyes and he walks into the garden while food is still cooking, dropping down onto his knees in one portion to dig some weeds out of the area and put more magic into the grown, some of the plants growing before his eyes as he does so. Christopher picks another bundle of flowers, a bright shock of red, orange, and pink against the dark clothes he wears. He presses his nose into the petals and breaths in the scent, sweet and thick, like the perfume his mother wore and that his sister still sometime did. That only existed to the two of them anymore.

“I never picked you for a gardener, dove.” Christophers head shoots up at the voice coming from the edge of the clearing, not too far from where he kneels, a dressed down William stands, dark curls messy and soft brown skin specked with some dirt as he seemed to get into a few situations coming up into the hills. Christopher can’t help the soft chuckle that comes from his throat.

“Only when I’m here,” He smiles, standing and walking over to his dear friend. “I didn’t actually expect you to bring yourself all the way out here just to visit.”

“Well I wanted to check up on you, ask you why you’re holding yourself up in…” His eyes flicker to the cottage and Christopher snorts a bit. “Here…”

“Come inside, I’ll explain everything over dinner.” Christopher nods his head to the cottage and William follows behind, his eyes looking at everything once they enter, taking a deep breath and exhaling after a moment.

“Oh it smells amazing in here.”

“I would hope so, I know I’m an excellent cook.” Christopher chuckles and fills two bowls with the stew then pulling apart a loaf of bread for them both. They both sit down on the small table in the room near the warm fire.

“So…” William starts after a few bites of food and telling Christopher how good the food is. “What are you doing here and not in your large beautiful home in Helimire?”

“Someone tried to kill me in my own home, so I decided to come to a home of mine that know one knows of.” Christopher takes a bite of food, like he wasn’t just telling someone that people were trying to murder him. William drops the bread in the stew and looks at Christopher like the man has grown another head.

“You… Christopher who? You can’t just drop that on me of all people and expect me not to be worried for you.” Christopher waves a hand.

“William it’s nothing for you to worry about, darling I am going to be fine, it’s not the first time, it has just been a while.”

“That… Christopher I know you live a hell of a weird life, but dove… I’m still worried even more now that you say this has happened before.” Christopher shakes his head and reaches out and grabs both of William’s hands in his own and looks deep into the mans lighter blue eyes.

“William, my dear, my friend. You know who I am and what I am. You got the luxury of knowing that many months ago and that should be enough. Nothing bad will happen to me, I just need to stay out of the city for a few days and things will be fine.” William huffs and tuns his hands around to grip Christophers even tighter, gritting his teeth slightly, a small fearful expression on his face.

“Stay at the palace at least, you’ll be more protected there than anywhere else, especially not here.”

“William there are six people who know about this home, two of which have been dead a very long time. Darling, I am more safe here than anywhere else. I understand that you wish to protect me, and I love that you wish to, but I grew up in this small place, I know I am safe here.” Christopher pats his hand gently and pulls away after a moment.

“You… I didn’t realize you lived so close to the city.” Christopher nods.

“It’s been here since before Helimire was a thought,” A soft smile spreads across his sharp features. “I come here, I have come here, for so long because I want to keep it beautiful and my home. I have protections on this area so things can’t be destroyed. I can’t lose this land, because if I do, I’ll only have one other thing of the time when I was a child, and that is Morgan.” More tears spring to his eyes and he shakes his head, wiping them away.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t realize it meant that much to you.” Will runs a hand over his face and through his hair. “I still need to realize that you’re older than Helimire itself.” There’s a soft chuckle from the two of them after that.

“Sometimes I do as well. It seems as more time goes on, I’m more forgetful. I sometimes forget that Morgan is the same as I am. It’s annoying to her and I feel terrible when I do forget.”

“Well I’m sure I would forget a lot if I was as old as you.” Christopher laughs, throwing his head back and putting a hand over his stomach.

“There’s a lot of stuff I remember! There’s just a lot to remember in general.” Christopher kicks him under the table a little bit, shaking his head.

“I’m sure there is.” The two of them finish up the food, eating more than probably necessary, getting stuffed and falling onto a lumpy large chair together in Christopher’s study, Christopher grabbing a random book from a pile on the floor. Boy he should really start carting some back home to his library in Helimire, and probably donate some to the actual large library in Helimire as well.

William, as soon as he’s sitting down and realizing that it’s going to be quiet for a good time, pulls out a leather bound sketchbook that is stuffed with loose papers other things, as well as a small charcoal piece that seems to have seen better days and heavy wear. He begins sketching, at first it’s the room and the furniture in it, but then moves to Christopher who seems deep in whatever book he’s reading. The text is in another language William has never seen, even though his family has a large library in the castle, and he’s been to the one in the centre of Helimire numerous times as well. This is something totally new to him, and he sees Christopher reading through it like it’s common tongue.

It shouldn’t surprise him really, the man is one of the smartest people he’s ever met in his over 30 years of life, Christopher knows things more than anyone, knows about Helimire better than anyone except for the mysterious Silaf William has only met a handful of times in the past, all through Christopher.

But he draws the man, easily and almost one to one. William has drawn the man many many times, on spare pieces of paper in meetings he’s had to go to, he had a actual portrait planned out as a gift. One like all the higher council members had, and honestly, William was surprised that Christopher didn’t have one already. Maybe he did… but it wasn’t from him.

It was already planned out, he had sketched out numerous designs and used up numerous pieces of paper and supplies, but it was ready, and the sketch was already on the canvas. He had bought some oil paints in town a few weeks before and William was ready to get started on it once he returned home, he knew he’d end up locking himself away until he finished it, making sure it was utter perfection for the man he adored so much.

William thought the man was unattainable, romantically wise. While he had never tried to ask him about, William was so dead set on the fact, too anxious to actually attempt courtship with Christopher. Although his family was supportive, Christopher’s twin even caught onto the feelings William had for her brother and adimatly tried to convince him to go for it.

Maybe one day.

It’s hours later before Christopher finally makes another move, putting down the book and stretching, a few bones in his back popping as he does so.

“If the offer is still on the table, I’d actually like it if I could stay with you William. I’d like some company while I wait things out.”

“It’s always on the table, my dove.”

The two leave the next morning, Christopher waving a hand over the front door to keep it locked so that no one could get in, no matter how much they tried. He packed up other things he knew he would need, not wanting to make the trek all the way back up after a while, he was grateful to William that he could stay with the man and his family for a while, adjusting and figuring some things out while time passed.

During the walk back to the city that took a few hours, William happily filled the silence between the two of them, talking about anything and everything he could think of at the moment. He stops at one point to pick a couple of the deep crimson flowers that sprout at the edge of the forest, saying how he know his mother would love them when she and his father returned from another city later that week.

Finally entering the city, Christopher steps closer to William, hooking his arm through William’s, his head held high as he made his way through the streets again to get to Will’s home. While he knows that the other members of the council wouldn’t be out on the streets at this time, there were informants everywhere, disguised as anyone, you couldn’t tell who was one. Christopher put on that same face, the one of stone, where he knew no one would approach unless close to him. Others, stayed away, knowing that Christopher, while a good man, was not one to mess with when he seemed angry. It was a good face to put on sometimes when it was needed.

And finally, entering the large castle that was too big for Christopher’s taste, he lets the face fall into soft admiration for the building, crafted absolutely beautiful. He looks around before speaking.

“I remember when this place was being built, that’s when I realized the city was going to be made of beautiful marble and one of the greatest cities in Astor.” He walks through the halls, following William through large hallways, admiring the white stone and gold inlays. “Shockingly, I’ve never been in it.”

“Never?” William asks, coming to a stop in front of a door, opening it to show a large studio like room, smelling of paints and other art supplies. Christopher shakes his head.

“Never. Of course I know things have changed since it was first built, but it’s still so utterly beautiful, I love it.”

William looks at the man, a soft smile on his face, mirroring the one on Christopher’s as well. He loved how the other talked about Helimire and the things in it, how he witnessed so much over so many years. How Christopher talked highly of his home and the good people in it, how he’d do anything for any of them.

“You’re so passionate, dove. I don’t know how you can do it after so long.”

“You love your art and the art of others, no matter how much time you’ve seen it, yes?” Christopher asks, taking a seat on a chair on one side of the room, William busies himself with getting out paints and a new canvas, he’s going to draw Christopher today, with the man himself modeling for him.

“Of course, I guess I didn’t think of that. You’re right…. Do you mind if I paint you?” William asks, putting up a stand and setting the canvas on it, raising an eyebrow at Christopher as he peeks out from behind the canvas.

“Right now?” Christopher asks. William nods.

“Just as you are, if you have a book to keep you company, all you have to do is sit there and be your absolutely beautiful self while I attempt to get your wonderful likeness on a canvas.”

“Such words.” Christopher laughs. “But yes, of course, I’ll sit for you darling.”

[dailyaudiobible]

10/21/2021 DAB Transcript

Jeramiah 37:1-38:28, 1 Timothy 6:1-21, Psalms 89:38-52, Proverbs 25:28

Today is the 21st day of October welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian, and it is wonderful, wonderful to be here and a privilege to be here with you around the Global Campfire as we take our places and just…yeah…ease…ease back and take this time to relax and allow the word of God to wash over us and through us, leading us forward. And that forward will take us back into the book of Jeremiah. Today, Jeremiah, chapters 37 and 38.

Commentary:

Okay. So, as we continue the book of Jeremiah, we’re sort of reading the account of the ongoing and escalating deterioration of society within the walls of Jerusalem. And Jerusalem is surrounded and besieged and being starved to death. Jeremiah’s been saying, you know, there's a way to live and the way to live is surrender but nobody believes him. In fact, that looks like certain death. Surrender looks like certain death. But things have just gotten so complicated within…within the city. It's reached the point where the sovereign king of Judah in the capital holy city of Jerusalem doesn't really have a whole heck of a lot of authority. So, even he is trying to have secret meetings with Jeremiah. And then of course Jeremiah gets questioned about all of these things. So…and…and we also saw Jeremiah thrown into a well. We can just see the whole thing is breaking down. And eventually, yeah, the Babylonians will break in and, yeah, it will be mayhem, and indeed the temple will be destroyed, the temple of God. Like gentile army people are going to go into the holy of holies and desecrate it and burn it down. So, just imagine that. I mean there are still cities in the world that have ancient walls around them, but we don't really generally live in walled cities. We might live in gated communities, but we don't live inside a city that is surrounded by a wall. Our cities have expanded and grown and it's different now, but imagine you live in a walled city and the wall gets breached and the enemy pours in and just, by the thousands, killing everything in sight. Like they come in swinging swords. And imagine the chaos. Imagine the mayhem of just trying to find a place to hide and feeling hunted down and you’re starving. So, it's not like you have a bunch of energy to fight back. You’re starving. But the wall has been breached. It's come down. There is no defense. That sounds terrifying, right? And that's what they're facing. And we’ll follow the story all the way to its conclusion, but that's what they're facing. And we can imagine it, but the more that we imagine it and try to put ourselves in that position the more we’re like, “I am so glad that I'm reading about this instead of experiencing this.”

Now let's bring it close and turn to what we read in the book of Proverbs today and I quote. “Like a city that is broken down and without walls, leaving it unprotected is a man who has no self-control over his spirit and sets himself up for trouble.” So, it sounds like chaos and mayhem and death and destruction as we’re reading Jeremiah. And then when we try to put ourselves in the position of what that experience would be like it's overwhelming. And then we see that we can do this to ourselves, within ourselves when we have no self-control. And just like that, the Bible opens up to us. We have a picture from an ancient time, and we have a proverb that tells us we can cause the same kind of destruction inside ourselves. Like a city whose walls are broken down and it is defenseless, is the person with no self-control.

Prayer:

Father, that explains an awful lot. That would explain an awful lot about a lot of things because we all have lacked self-control at one point or another. Some of us can’t get the hang of it, and it keeps causing destruction and we need things to shift. We need Your Holy Spirit to come, and we need to submit to Your Holy Spirit's guidance. And, so, that's what we’re asking for is exactly that. Come Holy Spirit guide us. Reveal to us when we’re about to lose control of ourselves and give us a clear picture of a defenseless city. In fact, give us the picture of what we’re reading about in Jeremiah as Jerusalem is overrun and let us understand that we can do this to ourselves and have. It would be one thing if this were super esoteric, and we couldn't understand the proverb, but we have done this. We know this is the truth. And, so, we want the principal to remain the truth. We just don't want it to be true about us any longer, which means we will need self-control, which is a fruit of the Spirit. Come Holy Spirit with the fruit of self-control and plant it in our lives. And we acknowledge we will have to collaborate. And, so, we submit ourselves to Your authority as You lead and guide us in this regard. And we ask this in the name of Jesus. Amen.

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And that is it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hi friends this is Veronica calling in from Oklahoma City. I need a lot of prayer for my brother Robert. He is 42 and has been a severe alcoholic for many, many, many years. But about a year ago he got sober, and he's been sober for not quite a year. This November would have been a year, but he started on a new job and this new job is just extremely, extremely stressful. And anyway, he left on Thursday. He went to a little town a few hours away. He's at a hotel drinking himself into oblivion. Nobody's heard from him since yesterday morning. This is his normal MO. This is…I don't know how many times he's done this, 30 - 40 times. He's been in rehab around 10 times, and it just doesn't stick. He doesn't follow through. He doesn't go to AA or get any kind of counseling or therapy. And my prayers for him have changed a lot over the years and I'm at the point I just don't know what to pray anymore. And I'm just scared. This is not what I want for him. He is not a believer. His name is Robert.

Hello this is Vy from the farm. I'm calling for Asia in Chicago. I'm…I was a day or two behind. I'm calling on October 17th, but I heard your prayer, your request for prayer and I wanted you to know I am praying for you. And actually, recently, I think it's about a week and a half ago, you came to my mind, and I thought I should pray for you. I hadn't heard your prayer…heard your voice for a while. I don't always catch the community prayer, but you came so to my mind, and I prayed for you and have a couple times since. And, so, I will continue to keep you in my prayers, that God will be with you and support you in the challenges that you are now facing. I…one of my favorite verses I hold in my heart; when you walk through the water I will be with you, and the rivers they will not overwhelm you. And Asia just know that I am praying for you. I send my love. Bye.

Hi audio…Daily Audio Bible family this is Aussie B from Australia. I was just listening to the praise and encouragement for this week, and I was just listening to the prayer from, I think it was Sweet Soul, the lady who is from the US but is working in Morocco currently. And she was asking for prayer because she has contracted an illness and she's hoping that she will be able to go home at the end of the week. So, I just wanted to pray for her. So, loving Father I just ask for Your blessing over this woman and for Your healing over the illness that she has. You know the details of the illness and what it will take for her to be brought to full recovery so that she's able to travel back home. Working in another country so far away from her family and friends has got to be difficult. And, so, being faced with the prospect of a possibly not being able to go home Lord just must add to the burdens that she's already dealing with with being unwell. So, Lord I just ask for Your blessing over Sweet Soul and that You will heal her and bring her back to full health and that she will be able to safely travel and go home to be with her family and friends. And Lord, I thank You for Your might and Your power and Your love for each one of us and just how much You care and how…how in touch with every minute detail of our lives. And I pray these things in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Hello, DABbers this is coolbrother2003@yahoo.com. This is my first time ever calling in. I've been listening to the Daily Audio Bible for over about 10 years and I just want to give a shout out to the Hardin family. This is a wonderful, wonderful, wonderful podcast and I enjoy listening to the chronicles, the Daily Audio Bible and my kids also enjoy the kid’s ministry as well with little E. And I just want to say to all the DABbers who are calling in, you are being prayed for and know that God is listening, and He will come through. You just have to hold on. Just hold on. He hasn't forgotten about you no matter how hard it seems. I know there have been times we've all been down, and we just be patient and we wait on the Lord and His timing is so perfect. It is so perfect for us. And a lot of the prayer warriors, Victoria Soldier, Blind Tony, Tony the truck driver, there lot of guys of and listening to and I know that they've been very inspirational. So, this is my first time calling in and I just want to say don't give up. You just hang on. Jesus will see you through. He will. He is faithful. Have a wonderful evening.

Hey DAB family it's Lukas calling from Calgary. I'm the guy who's got a couple of learning disabilities and I've been hired and fired for the past almost year. Oh shoot…it actually may have been a year. But anyways I’ve decided that I'm going to apprentice underneath a…a welding company, like become an apprentice, get hired and near the end of the month I'm going to go to __, go to school so, you know, be taken a bit more seriously by the company. So, prayer for that, that it all works out. I have a below grade 12 level diploma. I wasn't really told what…what grade level I'm at so that makes things harder. I'm also moving in as roomies on this nice apartment with my friend Andrew. So come up prayer that things are going to work out for me because I just feel so stuck in life. Thank you very much family. Bye-bye. Love you all.

Hi there, I'm so glad that all of you are out there wherever you are. It is a comfort to know that I can come to a group and ask for prayer. This is peg and Texas. And tonight, there is a dad and a mom and a son who’s struggling, all separate, all separately, and separated. And I'm concerned as a grandmother. And I see it and I feel it and I know it but there's not a lot that I can do except pray. And while I realize that prayer is the best thing I can do, it is a lonely thing right now and I…I need you. It's…it's hard for emotion tempts me and…and brings on worry. And, so, I just confess that. And know it's wrong but I'm grateful that you're there. I'm grateful that you pray with me. I don't actually know the full situation, but I do know that trauma has ended the young life of the teenage grandson and he has grown distant, and he’s grown angry and he has withdrawn and he…I know that he's addicted to the telephone. And whether there's another addiction I just don't know, and I don't know what he's been faced with but I do know the enemy wants to steal and kill and destroy. And as the matriarch I refuse this. I refuse this in the name of Jesus. And I…I pray for a hedge of protection around him and…and all three of them really, the parents too...

[bigbelievermilkshake]

Hurt

Grab a drink and some popcorn, because this story is very long. Full of twists and turns and most of all heartbreak.

Me and this this guy, Issac, were really close. I met him at my 9th grade orientation and have talked to him since (this is almost two years of being friends. ) Ever since Covid started, I hadn't been able to see him. We talked almost everyday and it was awesome, but at the same time, you still feel like your missing something. So on January 1st of this year (2021) I snuck him into my room. It was 12:30am when he got to my house, everyone was asleep. This was the most risky thing I had ever done. It was something I thought only happened in movies. But it was exhilarating. We started watching movies, and by the end of the night we were cuddling and he reaches over, grabs my face, and kisses me. This was my first kiss, and I couldn't have imagined it any better. And at the end of the night, he left and I thought we were going to last forever. But a month later, my mother saw that my window didn't have the screen on the outside, which it always does. There was no way to get out of it. So I told her what happened, and what she did was very unexpected. She calls Issac with my phone so he would answer, and tells him to leave me alone. To never have contact with me. "I'm trying to raise my daughter right and you aren't helping". Issac responded to her like he didn't care that he couldn't talk to me anymore. So ever since that day, I have not spoken to him. I haven't spoken to the person I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I haven't spoken to the person I thought I was going to travel the world with. Then, out of nowhere he texts me. I had a choice to make; Am I going to start talking to someone that doesn't really care about me? I replied and after our 4 reply conversation, I blocked him and deleted all of our messages. I figured, why should i keep reminding myself of someone that didn't actually care for me? Hopefully I feel better soon, cause right now, my heart kind of hurts. I hope no one reading this has to go through something like this. I just have to remember that this situation is in God's hands now. To the person reading this, know your worth. I know, easier said then done. But every single one of you are the most precious things out there. "Before you were born, I set you apart" Jeramiah 1:5.

[obsessivesarcasticgayliving]

Sisters’ Night

They hadn’t had a sisters’ night in quite a long while.  At least that’s what it felt like. It was understandable, reasonable. A lot had happened over the past few months. Alex was abducted, tortured, almost killed. Kara largely blamed herself for those experiences. Kara had to fight her cousin, an incredibly painful fight she might add. They both put their lives on the line and in the others’ hands while resisting the historically tyrannical reign and potential enslavement and/or genocide of the Daxamites.  Knowing she was responsible for releasing lead into the atmosphere sending their invaders back to space including the person she thought was the love of her life (she didn’t know how wrong she was until she drunkenly made out with Lena Luther one night) was hard for Kara to handle. She became reclusive for a while. When she wasn’t working at CatCo she was flying through the skies protecting those who needed Supergirl. When she wasn’t partaking in either of those activities, she was at home in the dark crying. Trying with all her might to dig her way out of her slump. On the off chance she did go out, (she may have super strength but her sister had red sun lamps and puppy eyes that were almost as strong as Kara’s) she got drunk.  One of these nights resulted in the aforementioned drunken make out session between a Luther and a Super.

So no, a sister’s night, a night with no other people, no friends or girlfriends, has not happened in a long time. So when Alex showed up outside her door with drinks for both of them and enough food to feed an army of a small country on the way, Kara didn’t have the heart, nor desire, to send her sister away.

Kara bowed low, swinging her arm out in front of her signaling Alex to enter. She tilted her eyes up making eye contact quickly with her sister, the person who has been in her corner longer than any other person, now officially longer than she had lived on Krypton. She smiled a smiled that reached her eyes, a rare occurrence these days.  Alex simply smiled back, knowing all too well the darkness living in her sister.

Alex set the drinks on the coffee table, fell back onto the couch limbs flying in all directions and a grunt escaping her mouth.  “We’ve broken mom’s rule you know. We aren’t supposed to go more than two weeks without spending time together “bonding.” She’d be extremely disappointed if she knew. I figured I’d save us both from a premium mom lecture when she visits next week. Whatya say, Kar? Food and movies or food and something else?” Alex finishes watching Kara with calculating eyes trying to deduce what Kara was in the mood for.

Kara moved toward her bedroom without saying a word. She emerged with three boxes stacked on top of each other. “Food and talking-reminiscing really. I’ve been going through our old photo books from when I first arrived on earth.”

“That could be fun, deal” Alex reached for a book sticking out slightly from the first box. She opened the cover and was met with the last picture taken of her family, all four of them. “This was a good day. It was the last happy day we had for a while.”

“I remember. It was one of the first days it felt like we were actually family.” Kara smiled sadly, “it was the last picture we had taken with the four of us.” Alex just nodded her head patting the spot next to her telling Kara to sit. They made it through one and a half photo books before the food arrived. Pizza and potstickers covered the island in the kitchen and the coffee table in the living room. Together, the sisters ate through all four boxes of pizza and four containers of potstickers, all the while flipping through book after book, telling story after story, laughing so hard they ended up crying. At some point, they slipped off the couch onto the floor.  

They each had a book in their laps, each holding different parts of their combined past, each seeing the same memories from different points, remembering them in slightly different ways. Alex stopped flipping through the book in favor of watching her sister. She looked on in amazement, studying the amazing women sitting in front of her. Kara was truly one of the strongest women she knew. She lost her family-her planet-when she was 13. She had to fit in, belittle herself, ensure that she didn’t stand out for so long. She was lost her family and her planet again when she was attacked by the black mercy and yet again when Mon-el was forced to choose between leaving Earth’s atmosphere and dying. Although Alex was never a fan of the Daxamite. She hated him in fact, hated the way he treated Kara, disrespected her. She thought he was border line (and that was lenient) abusive but he was one of the closest things to home for Kara. Especially after Astra died. Alex knew she had Clark but he didn’t know Krypton as a memory he knew about it from stories. So even though Alex was glad that he was gone, glad that he could no longer hurt and abuse her sister, she realizes that Kara is once again missing that connection to her home.

Alex is brought out of her reverie but Kara’s laugh and insistence that she look at a certain picture. Alex leaned forward and instantly burst into laughter. The picture in question showed both Kara and Alex standing in the kitchen both covered in milkshake laughing hard. It was taken not long after Jeramiah’s “death” Kara is reaching forward her index finger scraping milk shake from Alex’s face moments after the photo was taken Kara’s finger was in her mouth.

“Oh my god!” Alex exclaimed.

“Remember this, it’s from our first official sisters’ night.”

“I do, Dad was presumed dead not too long before this.”

“We didn’t even know this picture was taken until Christmas.  Eliza was working late, remember, she told us that we had to spend the night hanging out doing sister things.”

“Oh yeah, I also remember resenting having to do it. I just wanted to stay in my room, stay away from people. I was so depressed because of dad.”

“I know, Eliza told me that we had to do everything we could to support you. She was really worried about you. She told me that because she was working late so often I needed to find a way to make you lean on me.”

“She told me that I needed to make sure you were ok because dad was the third parent you’d lost and that we were all you had left. With her working late so much, she said it was my responsibility to be there for you.”

They stared at each other mouths agape. “She totally played us!” they gasped at the same time.  They started laughing again.  They laughed so hard they ended up rolling on the floor.  When they both calmed down enough, it was 3 am, after all, they were lying head to head feet extended in opposite directions. For a few seconds the only sound in the room was heavy breathing as breath was caught and after shock laughs escaped tired bodies.

“Do you think she knew back then?” Kara whispers, tilting her head toward Alex.

“Knew what?”

“That we would continue “sisters’ nights even well into our twenties’?”

“I think she hoped that we would.  Hell, she probably knew. But I think she also knew that we needed to figure it out for ourselves. I mean some of our adolescent sisters’ nights involved us sitting silently in the same room until we were allowed to go to bed.”

It was quiet again as both Kara and Alex thought back through their combined and individual pasts.

“Hey Alex, I’m really glad Eliza made us have sisters’ nights growing up. I’m happy that we kept having them even after we moved out. I don’t know where I’d be if it weren’t for you.  You’re the best sister a person could have.”

“I’m glad too Kara.  And I’m pretty sure the title of best sister a person could have belongs to you. But just for the record, if it weren’t for you, I’m not sure where I’d be either. I love you, sis.”

“Love you too Alex.”

Kara stood up reaching a hand out to Alex to help her up.  “I’m sorry I’ve been distant lately.  It’s just…I felt like- I don’t know- I guess I feel like I’ve lost my planet all over again.  Looking back I see that my relationship with Mon-el wasn’t healthy in the least.  I think I knew that when we were together even, at least subconsciously. But I could talk to him about Krypton and he knew. I didn’t have to explain everything to him.  It was nice talking in my native language with someone who remembers what it was like to live there.”

Opening her arms, Alex held Kara close to her squeezing as tightly as she could. “I know Kar. And I wish I could make your pain go away. I wish I could bring Astra or someone back.  And even though it hurts, you’ve still got me and all of our friends which include but is not limited to Lena Luther.” Kara pulled back staring at Alex with raised eyebrows. “What you’re the one that made out with her in the middle of Dollywood, not me. What’s going on with that anyway or are interested in James still?  Or do you want to swear off relationships right now?  I don’t care either way I just want you to be happy of course!” Alex finishes with a smirk.

Kara doesn’t give Alex the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, she grabs Alex’s hand and gently drags her to the bed.  She’s tired and all she wants right now is to fall asleep in her big sister’s arms, safe and content.                        

[honeyfortier]

She arched an eyebrow, tempted to ask just what stories he'd heard.. but decided she'd rather the conversation not take a poor turn and left it alone for the time being. "I suppose we'll just have to be suspicious of eachother for the time being then?" It was strange, but the man had an oddly inviting smile. It was almost warm even.

Of course having seen the horrors of war she knew better then to give into the temptation his welcoming smile offered. when Jeremiah took hold of her hand she stiffened for a moment but it was so brief that the other likely didn't notice, though firm his grip wasn't uncomfortable or intimidating. He simply shook her hand and then let go, leaving the shoe wolf a bit baffled as she lowered her hand back to her lap. He wasn't even acting as if you were Superior to her, it was almost as if they were just two people talking over coffee.

Lightly sipping her coffee she listened as the vampire explained where he was from and what his job was, her brown eyes held a air of intrigue. She had heard that a new Prince had come he was the fiance of one of the princesses.. the older one she was pretty sure. "I can't imagine a pure blood would need a bodyguard." She light-heartedly teased,"then again if you're the prince's guard you must be pretty good at what you do?"

At The mention Of The great war her features faltered the smile slowly melting from her face and her dark eyes flickering down to focus on her drink. " ... I see, I can't say that's a very comforting thing to hear." She too had been in the war not directly fighting but she had been on the battlefield tending to the wounded and had witnessed many horrible things. " Well you'll likely see more of my kind now we live just outside of the city in a small town of our own called the underbank. Vampires aren't allowed there though so don't try to go in,"

Lottie traced her fingertips along the side of her cup, peaking back up at jeramiah, noticing the map her held. "You haven't been in the city for very long have you?"shemotion towards the map,"are you trying to memorize where everything is?"

honeyfortier​:

At his rather speedy introduction, the blonde couldn’t help but smile to herself- even managing a quiet laugh before finally looking his way. “And I’m supposed to trust your word,‘Jer’?” She arched an eyebrow at him, “I may not look it but I’ve been around for some time I know how vampires are.”

Nevertheless, she shifted in her seat, leaning back and facing him Abit more. She was still cautious, but he wasn’t being threatening just yet. “But maybe you are ‘different’.” She offered, grinning Abit more when he complimented her drink choice, “Thank you.. It’s not for everyone, but I enjoy the taste.” Holding her cup loosely, she looked the man up and down curious as to what he did for work.. he smelt of Purebloods he had to work close with royalty.

“My names Charlotte, or Lottie for short.” Despite her hesitation she offered the man her hand to shake a small offer of friendliness (and also Abit of a test, to see if he was just faking the friendliness), leaning foreward Abit in her seat so her short arm could reach, “If you don’t mind me asking, Where are you from? And..what do you do for work? From the sounds of it it keeps you pretty busy.”

He looked up from the map and thought for a moment. “Hm, no? You probably shouldn’t trust anyone of my kind, just like I shouldn’t trust anyone of your kind, but hey, here we are. I know how wolves are as well, from the stories I have heard, however not all vampires are the same and I’m sure the same thing goes for other species. Or I kinda hope so.” He smiled, the little playful banter, abide with hesitance from both sides was fun to him. 

Jeremiah watched her extend her hand and extended his own to give her hand a light shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lottie.” If he did intend any harm , he would’ve ripped her arm off now, but he easily let go and sat back again. 

“I’m from a different kingdom and no I don’t mind you asking. I came here alongside Prince David as his royal guard and yes that can be a very busy job, well, back home it was, here I seem to have a lot more time on my hands. The reason I’m different is simply because I haven’t seen your kind since the great war, back home there are no wolves anymore as far as is known.” He had killed quite a few of her kind, but never had spoken to them, speaking to them was not in the cards at the time of the war, as the general rule was to kill first and ask questions later. 

[officialleehadan]

Approve What Matters

“That ain’t gonna work on me, Padre,” Jeramiah said regretfully as he looked up at the holy man regretfully. Father Abraham Carson had a gun in one hand and a golden cross in the other. His hands were as steady as anything but there was fear in his eyes. “The gun ain’t gonna fire if you pull the trigger, an’ my demon ain’t the type to be bothered by a cross. You want to sit down, have a drink with me?”

“The Devil shall not tempt me,” Father Carson spat at him. Father Hennassy, who knew the what of Jeramiah better than most, only sighed. He took Jeramiah’s confession every Sunday under an orange tree just off the church’s green, and looked him in the eye, even when it was Lily looking back at him through Jeramiah’s eyes. She liked to tempt priests, but so far, Father Hennassy had been immune to her charms. Jeramiah thought it was because the good Father was honestly a decent person. “I shall fear no evil, with God as my witness and the blood of the Holy Son as my protection.”

“That won’t do you much good against Lily, either, I’m afraid,” Jeramiah told him honestly. “You’re human, Padre. That means you’re as vulnerable to her ways as anyone, if you got evil in your heart. I saw you spit at Moses on the way here. You got a problem with a black man making a living for his family? He works hard an’ honest same as everyone here.”

READ THE WHOLE STORY HERE!

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A Deal Once Made:

Once you sell your soul, the deal is made, but no one ever talks about what happens between the Deal, and when it comes Due.

You Scratch my Back

Never Unto Heaven (Free on Patreon!)

Not a Whore’s Grave (Free on Patreon!)

New Face in Town (Subscriber Only!)

Honest Man’s Hat (Subscriber Only!)

Keep your Conscience

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More Stories!

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[ratherhavetheblues]

QUENTIN TARANTINO’S ‘ONCE UPON A TIME IN HOLLYWOOD’ “Lightning in a bottle…”

© 2019 by James Clark

     The films of Quentin Tarantino are arguably the gold standard of amusement while indirectly excoriating the history of reverence. His recent shot, Once upon a Time… in Hollywood (2019), attends in a rather special way toward his enmity regarding pious foot-soldiers on guard for the sake of half-truths, at best. The target of Hollywood might seem to be a rather minor concern, not to mention that nearly everyone intuits its flaws already. But do they?

We take a ride with Cliff, a movie stunt man/ and double, for actor, Rick, in Rick’s cream-colored Cadillac convertible. While the actor attends to his well-known métier of Western adventures, overblown, underwhelming but passionately popular, Cliff, not being needed to spare the daring in this outing, takes up his other functions as chauffeur and handyman at Rick’s mansion in the exclusive hills. This day, there is the insupportable collapse of the perhaps, sinking brand’s television antenna, the year being 1969. Two magical events occur during Cliff’s hiatus. The first is the remarkable agility of his reaching the roof—sheer acrobatics in leaping from purchase to purchase. When on the irregular roof, his panache is not only bankable but poetry. The second surprise occurs on the freeway with the top down, of course, and music on the radio, to a tune called, “Gamblin’ Man.” The pitch and volume of the sound inundating the fast car can be discerned, with the driver in closeup, that intensity of this degree is, however unspoken, a field of grace. Much remains to be explored regarding Cliff’s solitary day off; but this film invites disparate, rare and desperate action to coalesce. Some months later, and late at night, with the sidekicks about to go their separate ways (and making a last-ditch party of the crisis), Cliff and his pit bull, Brandy, take a walk in the vicinity of Rick’s opulent (but now financially threatened) castle. The acrobat, saying nothing of the earthquake but feeling much, evokes another ecstatic song, far more explosive than the treacly film productions which made the actor affluent, namely, far from matinee-idol, Chris Farlow’s, one-hit-wonder, “Out of Time”—“Baby, Baby, Baby, you’re outta’ time…” And it’s freeway-time again, because the Stones (far more explosive than the earnest writer) know their Hollywood-Rare. The latter’s, wisely distorting the phrase, “Baby, Baby, Baby, you’re outta’ ooaa” [connoting, both “time” and “sight”]. The fateful musical presentation penetrates the mansion next door, the short-lease range of the now-pregnant starlet, Sharon Tate, where a dizzy anti-climax is about to unfold, which obliges us to consider a step far more demanding of nuance than Hollywood can afford. Back to Cliff, on the rich man’s roof, who couldn’t miss hearing the neighbor’s music, a bemusing effort by the laughably named, “Paul Revere and the Raiders.”

We had been up close to her the night before (at an intersection between convertibles; the play-list no improvement on her home choice), on their drive back to Rick’s, not the restauranteur, of course, but the ravenous, for Bogart’s fame. Here she was accompanied by her recent husband, Roman Polanski, still, at that point, a bright light of European avant-garde movies. (His elevated stature depended upon two early 1960’s efforts, Knife in the Water and Repulsion; from there he coasted and became a notorious child molester.) Rick, regarding this sighting as an epiphany, gushes to a less than thrilled Cliff, “He’s been living next door for a month and this is the first time I’ve seen him. I could be one pool party from starring in a Polanski movie…” Rather typically, he cites the big name for bringing to us, Rosemary’s Baby. The “glamorous couple,” dressed in rococo-era costume (once-stifling for all it’s worth in the 18th century) were en route to the Playboy Club, where Sharon cavorted as more polka-Polish than anyone else in the establishment. She and Mama Kass were the life of the party. But the real story had to be “no-bullshit,” tough-guy, Steve McQueen, describing, Louella Parsons-style, the tangled affections of Sharon’s depths. (A pan, while Cliff was still fighting off her music on Rick’s roof, discloses very briefly a lithographic poster by Alphonse Mucha. The sensitivity of the woman’s presence in that work must clearly derive from Polanski’s better days. That day, the so-called auteur was tossing a ball to her miniature dog, while the sweetheart slept snoring.)

There is about the first moments of our film today such miasma-inducing artificiality, that a whole universe of sensibility has to be invented to counter such an aberration. Firstly, there is a clip of a re-run of Rick’s television series of yore, namely, “Bounty Law,” the facile and preposterous rhetoric there being perhaps engaging for an eight-year-old. But soon we realize that those far more advanced in age than that swear it to be some kind of elixir. In the instalment mentioned, after dispatching five attackers in two seconds, he intones, “Amateurs don’t make it!” Cut, then, to a TV fan program where Rick can do no wrong. The peppy master of ceremonies, one, Allen Kinkaid, congratulates himself for including Cliff—by which he gets to maintain that the viewers are not “seeing double.” Rick explains that Cliff saves him from falling off his horse in high action. He admits, “Yes, I can fall off a horse.” This causes mysterious mirth all round. Then Cliff, convinced that the exercise doesn’t make it, blurts out, “I carry his load,” and more slippery goodwill fills the airwaves.  Scatology closing the mainstream show. But there is more to Allen Kinkaid (and more to Hollywood madness) than that. The seeming inconsequential host is sitting on Hollywood gold dust, in the figure of Jeramiah Kinkaid, a farm boy and his black lamb, in the Disney film, So Dear to My Heart (1948). Jeramiah brings the lamb to the county fair and goodwill prevails. But the action having occurred in 1903, the lamb and the boy are no longer a joy. (The boy, played by Bobby Driscall, died destitute at age 31.) The skills invested in that little story did manage a topspin that fans are not to be ridiculed for cherishing. But, in failing to vigorously discern the hardness and settle for a pathos rapidly becoming bathos, those fans fail to appreciate how few such gems obtain; and they fool themselves that sentimental and melodramatic extracts are close enough to the template. They actually, in great numbers, become an uncritical and militant cult. Rick moves on to an appointment with his agent who urges, in light of his frequent drunkenness wrecking for good “Bounty Law,” and doing “guest appearances” on the order of a cover of the “Specialty Song,” “Green Door,” that he reboot in Italy, where American has-beens enjoy a second life. Over and above the insider’s savvy pragmatism, he enthuses about what is obviously his client’s favorite role, from some time quite long ago, as wiping out much of the Nazi hierarchy with a flamethrower, in the movie, “The Fourteen Fists” [recalling the many fists in play, killing the fearful pagan, Johan, in the Ingmar Bergman film, Hour of the Wolf ]. The unctuous go-getter, mimes the attack and we hear our protagonist call out the comic-book line, “Anybody for sauerkraut?”

   Before plumbing here any more details of this nearly inscrutable myopia, let’s bring to bear more detail of that vigilante saga—from 1968 (set, wouldn’t you know it, in Germany)—where another homogeneous group of militants see fit to kill a painter who does not subscribe to an infinite future in a heaven. The painter, Johan Borg, could be described as some kind of acrobat, inasmuch as he has ventured to reach a dimension of life with which the vast majority are unconcerned. (“Borg,” denoting, in Swedish, a mountain, a castle stronghold. The film in point being set on a German island, there would be the very different lexical sense of a male castrated pig when young.) Cliff, a self-styled, easy-going guy, carries his skillset with significantly more panache than Johan.  But, like the artist, who had repeatedly crushed the skull of a rude boy on a deserted beach, along a steep cliff, there is a past in which Cliff has murdered, in this case, his wife; and gone free, as with the kills Cliff delivered during his military days. (The relentless smashing of an intruder at that swan song party, by the sometime reckless athlete, will give us much to ponder.)

During his day with Rick’s Coup de Ville, Cliff, giving a lift to a teenage girl (1969, again)/ entrepreneur who’d rather do tricks than go home, show’s no enthusiasm for the trade (and its possible quicksand); but, on hearing that “home” is the ranch just beyond LA where the boys worked on “Bounty Law,” he persuades the hooker to ease up for the afternoon and let him see a place he hasn’t visited for years. What he sees is another homogeneous group bent on murderous coercion of heretics—a group, however, right across the board, so inept, you’d think they were in some form of rehab, their main action watching television series, in the energies of a seraglio. This being the notorious Manson marauders, another form of resentment arrives therewith, to make us think. “Pussycat,” the unthinking navigator bringing the Cadillac to the cesspool, declares, angrily—after our protagonist discerns that the once-friend and owner of the property receives, as rent, daily favors from a dogma official, named, “Squeaky”— “You’ve embarrassed me!” She, operatically, like the patrician wolf-pack, in Hour of the Wolf, sneering that the now-non-owner whom the cult kept from Cliff on a pretext of his blindness, is a lie, “He’s not blind—you’re the blind one!” (Her ready playfulness, before the reversal, lingers as somehow at least a bit incisive.) More to the matter of short fuse, by remote soulmates, Johan and Cliff, one of the few males of the entourage (the big beachboy nowhere to be seen) has had, while Cliff was weighing the weight, the temerity to cut one of Rick’s tires. On discovering this, and seeing the sneering perpetrator nearby—a scrawny boy looking as if he should get a checkup—our anti-hero, in the course of ensuring that the inmate install the spare, beats the rascal, repeatedly and very bloodily, to within an inch of killing him. That the first punch lifted the vandal skyward, as in Hollywood cartoons, brings to bear Cliff’s state of far from immunity from the general crap. Later he crushes a sneering Bruce Lee during a lull of a very-short lived assignment. And later still, as mentioned, when Squeaky and a few others (still sans-Manson), have the temerity to invade Rick’s place with Cliff visiting, the latter, receiving a superficial gunshot wound (like that received by wife, Alma, from Johan, the hopeful killer), the retaliation is his taking the pudgy lieutenant by the neck and smashing her face, very often, and very hard upon the telephone receiver (more 1969) and other appliances, leaving her unrecognizable as a head. (Could there ever be anything about that sorority which makes your day? Come to think of it, early on, as the so-called “doubles” [Rick and Cliff] pass by to do their storied errands, there are several of them scavenging through a dumpster, pleased to discover and catch by the wind some white sheets [somewhat like Johan’s lost wife and her sheets in the wind]; and as they squeal like happy seagulls, they have something. They have something far more palatable than do-gooders, Simon and Garfunkel, chiming in here, with their so arch, “Mrs. Robinson.” Hollywood being predictable, but Tarantino, not.)

   The anticlimax—a maneuver in the same league as Bergman’s theatrical jolts—pertains, not to movie lore in general, nor to crime thrillers in particular, but to the explosive and lovely ways of intent within everyone’s grasp to sustain, however difficult. Tarantino’s priority is to see how advantages, far more cruel and formidable pieties than stupid murder, derive their monstrous power, and can be, though never not numerically dominant, eclipsed by courage and wit. The dust-up with Bruce Lee, eliciting from the now marginal pieceworker, Cliff,  the sneer, “You are a little man who [far from the boast he could beat up Cassius Clay] couldn’t hope to carry his [the boxer’s] trunks,” concerns a ridicule of the entire Hollywood Establishment, perhaps a failing of taste, on Cliff’s part, but a revelation of the metaphysical crisis here. More modulated mockery is to be seen during Rick and Cliff’s evening watching old tapes of “Bounty Law.” Depressed Rick can only register contained grief for a lost past. Non-depressed Cliff laughs out loud, seeing through the dramatic travesty, from beginning to end.

It is, then, the seeming fine Sharen Tate, who can lead us, in special ways, to the poison. We first see her returning to LA from Europe, accessing her priority luggage—including a small dog—in the vicinity of a carousel nudging her to be forever a child, as recommended on the highest authorities. She strides, in a slight slow-motion pace, along a corridor with only one exit, emphasized by the glimpse of her Pan-Am stream-line plane. Soon there is a day, like Cliff’s roundabout at the ranch, where, in her tiny, convertible, foreign vehicle (a 1969 phenomenon), she picks up a woman hitchhiker, very unlike Pussycat. Seen from above, there is no doubt that Sharon, granted good bones and good skin, can be as congenial as the girl next door. (The prelude to the lift is a Buffy Sainte-Marie anthem, in tremolo on the radio— “The Circle Game”—a decided improvement over what she listens to at home.)

(“And the seasons they go round and round

And the painted ponies go up and down

We’re captive on the carousel of time

We can’t return we can only look behind

From where we came.

And go round and round and round

In the circle game.”)

(But does this bit of taste rise to the celestial heights her promotors would insist? Or does it speak to the volatility of cogency?)  Arriving to the studio and giving the stranger a goodbye hug, we see the sign reads, “Fox.” (The infrastructure by Bergman reads “Wolf.”) Foxy advantage, all the way. Soon she’s done for the day, and she comes upon a movie house showing a film she’s in, along with Dean Martin. We can report she’s not another Jerry Lewis, but her enjoyment of seeing herself cavorting to little palpable effect finds her at some level of apparently remarkable fulfilment. She kicks off her sandals and places her dusty feet on the chair in front; and she foxes down every laugh and cheer in the theatre regarding her supposed martial arts skills. (Back to Cliff and Bruce; and wouldn’t you know, the latter—with his effete wolf howls—is a frequent guest of hers.) She had basked, coming into the show, in finding the cashier and the owner of the theatre typically elated by the presence of a goddess. But there’s a coda to this day even more edifying, in the goddess’ excellent day. On the way home she stops by a bookshop (remember them?) to pick up an order of the Victorian novel, Tess of the D’Urbervilles (1891), by Thomas Hardy, for her brainy husband who must, like her, be a Victorian softy. (Bergman kicks ass, similarly, in Cries and Whispers [1972], where Charles Dickens is seen to be an antiquated wimp, and avatar of advantage in the sense of precious careers, precious families and precious patrimonies. Since we’re drawn, by both Tarantino and Bergman being adept dramatic phenomenological philosophers in lodging a pushback against lead-pipe dogmatists, we seem to require mentioning that maniacal, militant careerists, and such, stem from that ancient Platonic myopia as to dynamics while overestimating inert matter. From there, religion, and its causal conclusion, humanitarianism and its obligations to coincide with the former, and science and its quietist retreat have enjoyed pushing around those who see much farther and braver than those who have gone too far with Plato.) With that ascension coming to bear in the anti-climax, we find Rick, a near-perfect wimp, out on the private road, invited to Sharen’s—she being tantamount to an addict of Rick Dalton action television (when she’s not listening to Paul Revere and the Raiders—“Hungry for the good life, baby!”) She wears a team jersey showing 17, her emotional age.

   The suffocating majority that is Hollywood is at its apex with the pedantry of those behind the scene—producers, directors, agents, promotors, lawyers, accountants… The breathless Kinkaid raises “double” about our protagonists, only to show he doesn’t know what to do with it, having, the years gone by, allowing a swollen prose to predominate and a withered poetry to die. Earnest cheering for lead-pipe nonsense (see the hunks, see the babes) is the order of our function here. Just as egregious as the bishops presiding over The City of Angels, there is Rick, in semi-depression that his career options have dwindled, meaning that others will man the idiocy where he used to be quite paramount. Before the fading actor takes the advice of the savvy cash-sniffer sold on Italy, there is one more push we need to take into account—involving a director, seemingly near dementia—showing the last of Rick’s several-year stint as a villain. (Immediately after the interview about Italy, Rick rejoins Cliff and cries on the vigorous acrobat’s shoulder. “Don’t let the Mexicans see you crying,” the latter urges, a concern reaching as far as the appalling Mexican directors’ film coups of the present day.)

The obsequious last American helmsman he’ll see, for quite a while, probably aware of a disaster in the making, but knowing a way to lessen the cheapness, promises that modernity and novelty will be the watchword. His patter and timbre of voice about the quality of the chestnut in point somehow overruns his standard positivity, in fascinating ways. Aiming for “lightning in a bottle” and “zeitgeist,” he’s all about changing Rick’s image to “Hell’s Angels” and a new hair style. “I want this to be caliber, not cowboy… Hip…” Rick balks in hearing “hippie…” Though our fading star has for years seen himself as a lucrative entertainer first, to those easily entertained (having purchased a castle of sorts with a pool segueing to the heavens, Architectural Digest-perfect); and a participant in the arts running about #99th (the Polanski moment being a rare jog), that he cared at all would perhaps have factored in the eccentric leader’s rhetoric. And there’s something else crossing Rick’s path which Sam, the inflected snake-oil cheerleader, had to regard as a big plus. Waiting at lunchbreak for an early afternoon first take, he wants nothing more than to read his cowboy novella, and he pauses along a shady point of the concern’s walkway. Nearby, a little girl is reading a script. He asks if he could sit down there; and, after a long pause she says, “Sit.” Not the most cordial welcome; but her presence being far more mature than her age, he becomes curious. Lighting a cigarette and responding to her not small ego, he learns that she never eats before going in front of the cameras, because she wants to concentrate upon her persona. “If I can be a tiny amount better, I will.” She then, the sense of deep resolve losing some traction, declares that Walt Disney is the greatest human to have lived over the past hundred years. She goes on to ask about his book—with a topic about a once-world’s-best wild horse trainer in his 20’s becoming far less than that in his 30’s. Falling, as he would have done during those later acrobatic feats, he’s facing the future with “spine troubles.” “He’s not the best anymore. He’s far from it…” This state of affairs rather oddly brings upon Rick a spate of tears. She tries, by her sincere caring, to help lift the spirits he in fact seldom deals with. But the presence of a vigorous, though wobbly, commitment, has dredged up something he has failed to master, an acrobatic challenge demanding nerve and wit far beyond the ways of those million-dollar dogs. In this crisis, the strain of cheapness cannot be stanched. “Fifteen years, you’ll [the girl] be living it!” [no longer disinterestedly transcending that horde of wolves]. On to the oater and its cliché-fest. Rick flubs many lines; and on a break, back in his trailer, he beats himself up for being so unprofessional and being a drunk. (There are, as mentioned, stories tossed around about his addiction causing the end of “Bounty Law”—lacking bounty and lacking law. Having been inspired by the serious girl, he determines to stop drinking and yet he has a shot before tossing out the bottle). Rick does some homework and his subsequent deliveries of evil do surpass—for how long? —his usual Saturday morning television bilge. (This lost cause is interspersed with Sharen’s delight in a film of hers not noticeably any better than Rick’s. Moreover, Cliff’s radio, as he drives Pussycat to the Spahn Movie Ranch, plays, “Brother Loves Travelling Salvation Show,” another touch of bathos to make to make full sense of.) With a staged conflict between Rick’s “evil” emoting and a Bostonian rationalist, we have the goofy makings of a primal conflict no one is ever going to see as such. The empathetic girl, who was supposedly being held for ransom, tells Rick, “That was the best acting I’ve seen in my life!” Sam, sticking to his sticky story, finds that Rick had reached Shakespearian levels.

There is one more current to add, needing as much pondering as we can manage, that being Cliff’s. We’ll see how amenable our picaresque protagonist can see fit to be stronger and brighter than the level he’s settled for. After the brush with Polanski and Sharon and their effete, rare roadster, the “double” retrieves his severally damaged, early 1960’s Karmann Ghia convertible from Rick’s spacious entrance, performs a little UCLA huddle unwind and returns home—home being a severally damaged trailer at the backside, mud bowl of a drive-in movie of poor status, amidst a terminal truck, various bits of garbage and an operating oil well. (Would that latter apparatus have anything to do with depths?) He kisses and plays with his pit bull, “Brandy,” and presents him with a “Wolf Tooth” dog bone. The easygoing “nonentity” does demand some decorum and patience, at dinner, from the companion/ Alfa. His television, seemingly never turned off, is tuned to a pop singer in a tux, namely, Robert Goulet, a Canadian far less alive than Buffy Sainte- Marie. Discerning the spigot of entertainment may be a large obligation most of us neglect. How Cliff performs, as it happens, is far more momentous than that of anyone else in view here, and we’re obliged to see where he’s going. (Another prelude to a hidden slippage of dialectic is the two hand chow cans being slowly pulled by gravity to the bowl.)

Where he’s going, on that putatively fateful farewell party is far from transparent. It doesn’t involve Brandy chewing off one the intruder’s cock; but hostility does reign. Getting a bit closer is the Manson irregular and enduring fan of “Bounty Law,” lawyering, “My idea is to kill the people who taught us to kill.” Though far from  a debater, Cliff, were he to have been able to listen to such entitlement, he’d have recognized the mob murderousness, in lieu of serious discernment. He’d have recognized it, because everyone around him uses it, in order to rough up those, like him (far from fully acute), by way of ostracism, contempt and sabotage. Even more a setback than the flesh wound contracted in the skirmish, there would be weepy Rick, using a flamethrower to kill a wounded sitting duck; and dissolving a supposed friendship and livelihood, for reasons of clinging to advantage. (How anyone can see staunch buddies here must indulge in large selective cognition. Sure, Cliff goes over old episodes with the star, and enjoys them. But he’s especially savoring the stunts [the acrobatics]. Anyone on to “Outta Time/ Sight” is not apt to be a fan of what Rick does.) After the Manson massacre, there’s the likelihood of some contact, on Rick’s terms. More good-natured balance and risk.

   In the run-up to Sam’s hoopla, Rick lobbies to the producer to give Cliff some work, somewhere. “He’ll do anything…” That’s tastes of an in-crowd regarding a no-crowd. (On the plane home from Italy—where the jobs were easy for a Hollywood name, and Rick showed much more acute critical powers about European entertainment errors than the American brand—there was the name and his new wife in opulent “Business Class;” and Cliff getting drunk amidst the also rans.) On trampling Bruce Lee, Cliff loses that job, but occasions more gold than the studio is worth. Alma, the widow in Hour of the Wolf, the endeavor being consulted by Tarantino’s golden touch here, quite remarkably shows very little concern for her artist’s husband’s having stoned to death a young boy. Cliff, too, doesn’t lose any sleep about killing his wife. Here we’re in a volatile territory of crime, coming face-to-face with the heroes of civilization (Rick’s work) being strains of a plague the body-count of blasted fruition impossible to count, especially in view of the fact that it will never end. But the tuning is remarkably upbeat, because dudes like Cliff find a way. A T-shirt of his, somewhat covered by a full shirt, spells Champion. (Our film today, despite so many coincidences with the somber defeat in Hour of the Wolf, becomes a cornucopia of inflected  verve.)

A coda at the ending credits, finds black and white Rick urging the viewer to smoke, “Red Apples Cigarettes,” which cuts down “bitter, dry” intake and delivers “healthy flavor.” Hollywood and its dubious logical props not nearly seen for its poison the way cigarettes have come to be discerned.

Someone who would have had no difficulty spotting the poison of world history and the merchants getting rich on it, is Heraclitus (flourishing about 500 B.C.); but left behind by pedants and sissies. One of his aphorisms, paradoxically counselling long-term, creative civilization, proceeds, “War is the father of all and the king of all; and some he has made gods and some men, some bond and some free.”

Let’s close things here with those well-known Heracliteans, the Stones.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0tyCOV3SyQc

[bubtayworld-blog]

Live this Monday Cooking with Master Chef Jeramiah & Sous Chef Tarsha @themediacenter New Artist Daisy Gates singing Single "You Told Me " all the way from #Miami with a story to tell on #TIWBTSHOW also performing @hylifelouie and @ryangraves23 @chef.jeremiah https://www.instagram.com/p/B5g2xyfHypq/?igshid=ca2xa1hxrf79