#thomas webb imagine

[eymie]

PHOTOGRAPHER !

pairing: thomas webb x fem!reader

warnings: smut, nudes?? kinda, alcohol, dry humping, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), thats it i think

summary: you were a new york photoprapher and thomas lived in your apartment. and after one frustrating night you invite him into your room.

a/n: WHERE. IS. THE. MF. CALLUM. TURNER. FICS. i’ve been on this game since fantastic beasts. (ive found a few scrumptious callum fics and yk who u r @willyoubemycherryy) also i have not written in a hot minute and none of you expected this.

You lived on the story above Thomas. Not that you ever really noticed him at first, you were relatively new in the complex too. Sometimes you’d hear him having a conversation on the stairs with the old man from 2B. Mix of words you didn’t bother to put together.

Well, you didn’t care until you saw him for the first time. The old man from 2B liked to talk a lot, often chatting you up when you got home from work. Sometimes bringing up Thomas which you didn’t care for.

"He could use a nice girl like you.”

To which you would’ve scoffed. You heard someone running down the stairs, to which you met eye contact with Thomas. Wavy brown hair, pink cheeks, glasses that sort of turned you on.

The real New York type of guy, to be honest, your type of guy. His lips parted as he looked at you, a small nod and than sliding past you.

“Where you going Thomas,” He called out, to which Thomas turned around laughing.

“I gotta go, meeting up with Mimi.” Thomas turned on his heels to leave until he was stopped again by the man.

“I want you to meet me friend.” The man gestured to you, Thomas smiling at you in return.

“No, it’s alright. I have to get going.” You smiled back, walking to the door where Thomas stood. You brushed past him, your clothes brushing his own.

“Where?” Thomas asked, furrowing his brows.

“Around, I’m a photographer.”

That’s how it started. After that, coincidentally you ran into Thomas a lot more after that. Usually alone, and to that he’d usually greet you and say hi. After a specifically draining day, a frustrating one at that, he ran into you in the front door.

He rubbed his eyes, apologizing and then he started talking. Going off about something you honestly didn’t care much about. You liked hearing him talk. You didn’t mean to say it, but you did.

“Wanna talk about it? In my room.” It came out like word vomit, immediately embarrassed. You watched his eyes for a second, not even processing his nod.

You grabbed his hands pulling him up to your apartment, dragging him close behind you. His hand was big compared to yours, you weren’t surprised you had already noticed he was a lot taller than you.

Your anxiety kicked in when you struggled to unlock the door. Him peering over your neck, watching you struggle with your keys. You felt his lips brush your neck slightly, your panties dampening.

You flung your door open a little too excited, a small laugh leaving his lips. He followed you in, to which you immediately grabbed your alcohol off the shelf.

When you turned around, Thomas caught you off-guard, pressing his lips to yours. It was quick, aggressive a bit, which you assumed was probably from nerves. He was quick to shake his head and apologize.

"Shit, I'm sorry." He mumbles, looking down at his shoes. You examine his face, his expression. You hand him the full bottle of alcohol off your counter, to which he takes from you with ease. "Thanks--"

You pull him back down, pressing your lips harder to his than he had before. You threaded your fingers through his hair, slightly tugging on it making him groan into the kiss. He still held the bottle in his hand, but his free hand slid to your waist.

He had you pressed against your counter, nowhere to move. His tongue slid over your bottom lips, you parted your lips allowing him to slip it in. Pressing and sliding against your own making you moan softly into the kiss.

Thomas pulled away, taking a sip of the alcohol, furrowing his brows at the taste. He placed it back on the counter beside you, who was breathless and needy.

He tilted your chin back up, pulling you back into another heated kiss. Both hands now free, groping whatever he could. You could taste the alcohol on his tongue, his kiss was intoxicating.

His hand slid up your skirt, tracing the apex of your thighs. His fingers slowly slide up to the wet patch of your panties. “Fuck, you’re soaked.”

"Thomas," You gasp, pulling away from the kiss. He trails down your jawline and neck, leaving soft wet kisses. He hums into your skin, hands pulling your waist closer to his body. "Wait--"

"What?" He was barely audible, too busy tainting your skin with his marks which you would certainly cover up the next day.

"l don’t know," You gasp, his tongue running over the mark he had just left. You feel him smile into your skin, a small laugh leaving his lips. His fingers sliding over your panties, pressing onto your clothed clit.

"Do you want me to stop?" He pulls away looking at your flustered face. His hand pulling away from the apex of your thighs, sliding up your waist and under your shirt.

“No,” You were too quick to answer, a small laugh leaving his lips. The way Thomas kissed you felt urgent, like he needed you now and he could’ve wait. And if you knew any better you would’ve known why.

You walked backwards to your bedroom, never breaking the hungry kiss. His hands were large, pulling at your waist. Your hand pulled back to push the door open further, backing into your small room. He turned you, pushing you against the white door, shutting it with your body weight.

You let out a soft moan as his knee slotted between your thighs, pressing into your clothed his. His hands travelled down to your hip, pulling your cunt harder onto his rough pants.

“Look at you, getting off on my thigh.” You whined at his words, a wet patch forming on the fabric of his pants.

“Thomas, I want you—“

“I know,” He mumbles against your lips. Thomas was usually quick when it came to sex, at least with the foreplay but he wanted to take it slow so bad. Talk you through it. “Don’t worry, gonna fuck you.”

“Now,” You move your head to the side to give him more room to mark your neck. His hand slides up to cradle your jaw, lips attacking your skin.

“Not yet,” His hot breath against your skin, lips pressing to your neck.

Thomas’ hands slid under your thighs, you jump up wrapped your legs around his waist, His fingers press into your skin, holding you up against him. Your arms wrap around his neck as he tosses you down on the mattress.

“Take off your clothes, okay?” You nod in reply and quickly pull off your skirt and panted as he pulls off his shirt. You pull off your own shirt, tossing it onto the hardwood floor next to his discarded clothes.

You look up to see Thomas, pulling off his pants leaving him in his tented boxers. You suddenly feel yourself getting hotter than before.

It was in a flash, he was on top of you, hot skin against yours. His hands pried your thighs apart then slid up to your bra clad chest. He slid his fingers under your bra while he nipped at your jaw. His glasses were still on and pressed into your skin

Your fingers slid up to pull his glasses off his face, to which he tried to resist. “I can’t see without those.”

“Shut up,” You cut him off with a kiss, fingers tangling in his brown hair. His glasses were held in your free hand, falling against the pillow beside you.

He broke the kiss, still brushing his plump lips against yours before speaking. “Put them on.”

You knew what he meant but you ignored him, pushing him on his back instead. You climbed onto his lap, your hands pushing him down against the mattress.

You placed his glasses on your face, they made your vision blurrier and you wanted to see him. You went to pull them off but he gripped your wrist, pulling your hands away from your face.

His cock twitched through the fabric of his boxers, you slowly grinded your hips in return. A small whimper left his lips, his eyes shut. You slid you hand up his body to his lips, your pointer finger slowly parting his lips.

You watched as his eyebrows furrowed, parting his lips for you. You roll your hips again and you listen as another soft groan leaves his lip. You smiled, leaning down to press your lips to his. Deep in the kiss, your hands slide to slowly his boxers down allowing his cock to spring out.

Your lips parted at the sight of his hard cock, pre-cum drooling down the tip. His large hands slid up your waist and pulled you down onto his cock. Your wet folds sliding across his length .

“Want you inside,” You whined, nails gripping his chest. He bit back any noises, nodding at your request and let go of your hips. You bit your lip, positioning his tip at your entrance.

“What do you want?” He asked with a smirk, a little too amused for your own liking. You tried to sink down but he had a firm grip on yours hips stopping you.

“Please, need it.” You whine, trying against but his grip on your hips stopped you from it. You clenched your jaw in frustration at his lack of sympathy.

“Want me to fuck your pussy?” He asked with a small laugh, you scoffed in return.

“You’re too vulgar.”

“I’m about to be inside you, what type of vulgarity would you prefer?”

“Shut up—“ You didn’t get to finish before his hands were pulling your hips down, his tip pushing past your entrance. Your mouth fell agape and your eyes were shut closed. You whimpered at the slight sting, he was bigger than you expected.

“Yeah, take it like a slut.” He smirked, watching as he bottomed out, stretching your cunt wide open. God, he wished he had his glasses on to see how your cunt looked around him.

You didn’t noticed his hand fumbling onto the night table, grabbing your old camera you retired from taking photos. The flash made you squint through his glasses.

The small photo came up on the screen, your perfect body sitting on his cock, tits full and being held in his free hand. He was saving that for later. He put the camera back on the nightstand, hands trailing up to steal his glasses back but you grabbed his wrist.

“I don’t think so.” You swatted him away, adjusting his glasses on your face. Your vision still just as blurry as his own.

“I wanna see you.” He whined, leaning back on his elbows, squinting back at you.

“The photo for later wasn’t enough?” You tease.

“Come on, give me my glasses so I can fuck you.”

You pushed him back down on the bed, raising your hips before dropping them. A groan slipping from his lips as his head falls back on the pillow, bucking his hips up.

“Fuck me, Thomas.” You whined, grinding your clit into his pelvis. His nails dug into your hips leaving red crescent shaped marks. His lips were parted, head back as you rode him. "Please."

With that he flipped you onto your back, pressing your legs to your chest. The small room was filled with obscene noises and the slapping of skin. He thrusted his length into you harder, pulling you to meet his thrusts.

"Fucking begging for it," He grunted, his tip pressing into your sweet spot. Strained moans left your lips, despite your best effort to keep quiet. New York apartments had thin walls.

Your hand slapped against your mouth to muffle the loud moan that had just left your lips. His hand slid to your wrist, sloppily grabbing it and pinning it above your head.

"Don't hold back," He ordered, lips connecting to yours to swallow your moans and whines. His free hand travelled down from where he pinned your legs to your clit, pressing your sensitive bud.

"Fuck--" You moaned, the knot in your stomach tightening. His thumb rubbed your clit harshly, pressing his thumb hard against it. "So close."

"Come for me, baby." His lips brushed against yours, his saliva coating your kiss-swollen lips.

A gasp left your lips, then a strained whine. Your walls clenched around his cock, the knot coming undone. Your head thrown back against your pillow as he fucked you through your orgasm.

"Yeah baby, just like that. Come for me." His whispered into your skin, your hips bucking against his thrusts. He pressed soft kisses into your skin as you arched off the mattress. His hands travelled to the arch of your back, rubbing your spine. "So good for me."

You fell back to the mattress, soft whimpers leaving you between your pants. His hand left your sensitive clit instead holding your hips as he neared his own orgasm. Pulling out, his hot seed coating your thighs and stomach.

"Give me back my glasses, I wanna see that photo."

[taylormarieee]

Stalker Thomas Webb

Summary: Your the new girl and you've just moved into this apartment in New York to get away from your parents and it seems you have a cute stalker...

Word Count: 1.5k

Pairings: Thomas Webb x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Thomas being a stalker, confrontation, suggestive throughout the entire fic, reader being a tease, Thomas being a needy boy, Thomas playing dumb/ hard to get, Mimi being jealous, almost smut...tehehe maybe part 2?

You were so happy to finally be free of the toxic relationships in your life. Your mom, your dad, and even your ex boyfriend. You were free, finally free.

You loved reading and writing and you felt as though you could achieve your passion, your goal to be a writer here in New York. Your mom never accepted it, a small town girl could never possibly make it big.

But you wanted to prove her wrong. You wanted your name in the paper and to be in interviews and to finally show them at you did mean something, that you had talent, that you actually had what it takes to be successful.

Yea, you were a small town girl but you were going to show them that small town girls can make it big! You finally got an apartment. Your apartment number was 2c. You were so happy.

You even made a friend. His name was Thomas. He lived in the Apartment two doors down from you. He was like you.

College dropouts, suckers for writing, lovers for books, you guys were destined to be friends.

But Thomas wanted something more. Even if he did just meet you 2 days ago, he wanted to feel every inch of your body on his body. He wanted you so close that your souls were touching.

He craved you, needed you. So whenever you went out, he went out as well. Constantly stalking and seeing what you were up too. But what Thomas didn't notice was that he wasn't exactly being sneaky or discreet about his stalking.

You constantly saw him and at first you just thought you guys were in the same place coincidently but then you started noticing him everywhere. Places he usually wouldn't be.

You found it quite cute because you wanted to be more than just friends with Thomas too! Yea, you guys have known each other for like 2 weeks now but he was incredibly attractive and you just wanted to suck the life out of him.

Prune him of every last drop of cum he has in his body. Make his dick twitch with overstimulation and anticipation. You wanted it badly but when was the right time?

Eventually when his stalking decided to get more frequent, you decided to confront him. You hid behind a wall waiting for him to turn the corner. When he did you jumped out with a "Boo!" and he stumbled back.

You began to laugh and his face got red. "Hey Thomas... why you stalking me, hmm?" you asked in the sweetest voice.

He's blushing heavily now, 'dammit you knew, he's screwed'.

"W-What do you mean y/n? I wasn't f-following you." He falters and you find it kinda cute. You smile at him and get closer to him. "Oh really? You've been following me for 2 and a half weeks now baby... why deny it? I'm not mad...I find it adorable actually."

He gulps and you can physically hear his heart beating. You get closer to him and your eyes rake up and down his body. A smirk creeps it's way onto his face as he questions, "Your not mad?" He asks.

You shake your head 'no' and he smiles even wider. "that's good. Was planning on doing it a lil longer." He says.

"Why stalk me when were neighbors. If you wanna fuck me just ask." You respond. His eyes grow wide at your statement. 'You caught him' he thought.

That's exactly what he wanted. For some reason he couldn't verbalize it with you. He wanted to make sure you weren't seeing anyone and now that his fear has been denied, he can have you all to himeself.

"What makes you think I wanna fuck you? Hmm?" He asks with a smirk on his face and it only grows wider when yours falters. You look around and shuffle nervously but then as you opened your mouth to say something, some girl turned the corner.

"Thomas, what's going on here?" She asks. She's short but maye the same height as you. Short black hair and melanin skin that glowed in the sunlight.

"Oh hey Mimi." He says breaking his eye contact away from you to face her. 'So this was mimi... the girl that couldn't get her fucking feelings straight,' you thought. She was pretty but Thomas deserved better in your opinion.

"Who are you? and Thomas what the hell!? You were supposed to meet me today at the cafe. I saw you walk by but you didn't come in so I decided to follow you." she says looking between you and Thomas.

"This is my new friend," he says introducing you by your name. "I'm hanging out with her. I totally forgot about the cafe today, my bad." He says.

You scoot a little closer to Thomas to let a woman pass by she mutters out an 'Excuse me' and you smile and gladly move out her way. You grab Thomas' hand to make sure that the lady didn't have to say it again.

Mimi's line of eyesight drops down and you notice your still holding Thomas's hand. You let go of his hand and smile at him. "Me and Nick broke up. Wanted to tell you that today..." She says looking everywhere but Me and Thomas.

"Did you?" He says looking dead at her. She looks up and makes eye contact with him. "Your supposed to be more excited than that. I broke up with him because I got into Croatia and I want you to come with me!" she says as we stand there.

You can tell she's fuming. It's like right out of a forbidden love story except there usually standing in the rain. Shes mad at you. feels as if you are taking Thomas away from her when he was her's first.

But she can't be mad when she blew it, she is the cause to this whole situation. Thomas wanted her. Badly, and she blew it.

"I have a confession to make." Thomas says. You are looking at Mimi but realize he's not looking at her. He's looking at you.

"I love you. I've loved you since the first time I saw you walk into your apartment. Since the first time we made eye contact I knew. I knew I needed to be with you. So I followed you. Everywhere. More than 2 and a half weeks. I followed you to find out what you liked and what your routine was." He confesses. Your heart swells and you smile.

"I know I seem weird and out of place and I probably sound like a complete creep but, I really do love you. I'm so in love with you that it hurts." He finishes his confession with a sigh and your smile only gets wider.

"I love you too Thomas. I've loved you since I first saw you grabing your mail and talking to that nice old man in 2b. I'm in love with you too Thomas Webb. So much I might cry cuz I felt like I couldn't have you because of her." You say motioning to mimi.

Mimi drops her head as she realizes she's too late. She confessed to Thomas and he found someone else. He really was a good man, guess it was just the right person at the wrong time.

You hug Thomas not wanting to kiss him in front of Mimi to make her feel bad. She says goodbye to Thomas before getting a cab.

He feels bad now but if she’s leaving she most likely won’t come back. He grabs your hand and you both start running towards your apartment as it did start to rain.

When you both got inside the apartment complex, you both laughed as you were both drenched due to the rain.

"I need you... god I've waited so long." Thomas confesses. Your eyes twinkle and you smile.

But you realize that this is all happening a little to fast. As much as you wanted to give into the throbbing between your legs, you needed a tiny bit of time to think.

Before you could answer he kisses you and pushes you against the door. Your hands find purchase on his chest. his muscles and abs being see through because of his wet shirt.

You kiss him back eagerly as you taste cherry on his lips. You break the kiss and suck on that sweet spot on his neck and jaw. Marking him as yours.

He moans in your ear as he lifts you up to straddle his waist. You lock lips with him again before realizing what you were going to say to him.

"T-Thomas baby, wait... wait a second." You say out of breath. He hums and looks at you. "W-What? what's wrong?"

"This is going a little too fast hmm? Lemme just think about this cause mimi is still plaguing my mind and I feel bad. I want you so badly but let's freshen up and come over later tonight yea... to finish what we started ok?" You say with a little smirk on your face.

You kiss him one more time before adjusting his glasses and kissing his nose. He smiles and slaps your ass before he makes his way to the door.

"Your lucky I love you... I'll wait just a little longer for you." He says before smiling and closing the door. You giggle to yourself and make your way to your bedroom.

Oh how you longed to see him again... feel him just one more time...

Taglist: @emmaafinchh @dustbunniess @willyoubemycherryy

[ask-james-erickson]

Imagine having a broken limb

-Definitely not Thomas Webb

[lenbryant]

(Long post-NYT) Review: An ‘Our Town’ for All of Us, Starring Jim Parsons

The Thornton Wilder classic returns to Broadway, still brutal and avant-garde after 86 years.

Jim Parsons as the Stage Manager in the Broadway revival of “Our Town,” at the Ethel Barrymore Theater in Manhattan.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesOur TownNYT Critic’s Pick

The first act of “Our Town” takes place in Grover’s Corners on May 7, 1901. Nothing much happens in the fictional New Hampshire village that day, except that two local teenagers, George Gibbs and Emily Webb, fall in love completely unaware that they do so under the shadow of the granitic pillars of time.

But we are aware. Even in an act entitled Daily Life, the playwright, Thornton Wilder, quietly batters us with the news that we are mortal. Immediately upon introducing George’s parents, he has his mouthpiece, the Stage Manager, convey as if it were part of their names a detail of their deaths: Doc Gibbs’s in 1930, his wife’s on a visit to Canton, Ohio. He blithely jumbles together, like their bones, the joining and splintering of human lives. “Most everybody in the world climbs into their graves married,” he comments without comment.

So if you think of the play as small, sweet or old-fashioned, and Grover’s Corners as a twin town to Bedford Falls or Hooterville, I respectfully offer that you have the soul of a rock. In any good enough production, “Our Town” is titanic: beyond time and brutal.

The revival that opened Thursday at the Ethel Barrymore Theater, the fifth on Broadway since the play’s 1938 debut, is more than good enough. To use this word in the only positive sense I can imagine, it’s unbearable: in its beauty, yes, but more so in its refusal to offer beauty as a cure when it is only, at best, a comfort.

That effect is achieved by writing that is ingeniously mitered, doweled and sanded until it seems as plain as old furniture. Briskly, almost cursorily, we are shown the two main families and told the work they do: Doc Gibbs (Billy Eugene Jones) is the local physician, Mr. Webb (Richard Thomas) the editor of the Sentinel. The lack of outside opportunity for their harried, homemaking wives — Michelle Wilson as Mrs. Gibbs, Katie Holmes as Mrs. Webb — is summed up in a typically pithy, bone-dry quip: “All males vote at the age of twenty-one. Women vote indirect.”

The exposition, of which there’s a lot in the first act, from the prehistoric to the 5:45 train, is always doing double duty fast. When the Stage Manager hurries a geologist offstage once he starts talking about the region’s “unique fossils,” we get the joke about blathering academics but are also left with the suspicion that he’s referring to us.

In Act II, set three years later, every potentially heartwarming premise — the act is called Love and Marriage — is dowsed with the cold water of cynicism. The wedding of George (Ephraim Sykes) and Emily (Zoey Deutch) counterposes the groom’s conventional nervousness, the bride’s existential panic, the ecstatic dithering of the besotted Mrs. Soames (Julie Halston, hilarious) and Mrs. Gibbs’s judgment of the whole ritual as a “perfectly awful” farce. Huge as all these sentiments feel to the characters, the play’s structure objectifies them and, in so doing, makes them small. You are left to sort out the scale in your seats.

Those seats don’t feel so far away; the production, despite its Broadway proportions, does much to shorten the distance. Beowulf Boritt’s set, as Wilder requires, is minimal — mostly weather-beaten siding — but also features a nebula of lanterns that extends into the orchestra. (The spectral lighting is by Allen Lee Hughes.) Also connecting you to the action is a wafting scent-scape matched to the action: heliotrope in Act I for the flowers the women grow, vanilla in Act II for sweetness and bacon in Act III for the longings of memory. (The bacon is a nod to David Cromer’s powerful 2009 Off Broadway production.) Up to 30 audience members are seated onstage, blending playgoers into the community.

Leon suggests that less literally too: The Gibbses are Black, the Webbs are white, the townspeople both and neither and more. Dede Ayite’s costumes freely mix formal period styles with contemporary casuals. (At one point, George wears a tank top.) The first thing you hear, in a prelude, is the Hebrew word “Shema,” part of an interfaith medley of Jewish, Muslim and Christian prayer. And with music that also includes BeBe and CeCe Winans singing “Lost Without You” for the wedding — the sound is by Justin Ellington — the production reaches forward in time and taste as well.

These might feel like anachronistic intrusions in a play bound tighter to its own age. In this timeless one, though, they feel like a mission statement: The “our” in the title means everyone.

That’s completely congruent with Wilder, as Act III, nine years further along, brings home. Boritt’s set undergoes a simple yet breathtaking transformation to deliver us to the cemetery we’ve heard much about, but now some of the characters from the earlier acts are in it. They do not seem unhappy or uncomfortable as they dully chat about the weather, trying not to think too hard about the living.

If only the living could return the favor! But this is where the play goes for your guts. The philosophical extremity to which Wilder has been leading now emerges in a scene of Shakespearean imagination, hubris and regret. His thought experiment is this: What would happen if one of the dead, ignoring the advice of her cohort, sought to return for one day to life? The answer is that she could not endure it. And neither could we.

I would tell you more about what was happening onstage but by that point I could no longer see it. Perhaps if you have lost a loved one, or feared losing yourself, you will feel the same way.

In other words, you will feel the same way.

The effect is almost geological: Push down long and hard enough here, watch an explosion happen there. It depends on the deep repression of emotion that deeply emotional people must master to survive — something that Wilder, a closeted homosexual, knew in his bones. Parsons seems to as well. With his light touch and cynical sang-froid, and the comic timing he has honed for years on television, he makes an ideally shrewd and withholding Stage Manager, placing you just where he wants you during the banter to achieve the greatest vulnerability to the blows.

Ultimately, that’s the trap of “Our Town.” Whether you are an Emily — apple-cheeked and wild-souled in Deutch’s gripping performance — or a cheerful George, a dizzy Mrs. Soames or the dour, alcoholic choirmaster nailed by Donald Webber Jr., you sooner or later wind up at Act III. If you are lucky, you will have valued “above all price” (as Wilder says in the play’s preface) “the smallest events” of daily life so that you will not feel cheated when forced to give them away. In that sense, “Our Town,” a unique fossil itself, is just another small event. But it’s one of the biggest smallest events the theater has produced.

Our Town Through Jan. 19 at the Ethel Barrymore Theater, Manhattan; ourtownbroadway.com. Running time: 1 hour 45 minutes.

Jesse Green is the chief theater critic for The Times. He writes reviews of Broadway, Off Broadway, Off Off Broadway, regional and sometimes international productions. More about Jesse Green

[ulkaralakbarova]

In the upscale Toronto strip club Exotica, dancer Christina is visited nightly by the obsessive Francis, a depressed tax auditor. Her ex-boyfriend, the club’s MC, Eric, still jealously pines for her even as he introduces her onstage, but Eric is having his own relationship problems with the club’s female owner. Thomas, a mysterious pet-shop owner, is about to become unexpectedly involved in their lives. Credits: TheMovieDb. Film Cast: Francis: Bruce Greenwood Christina: Mia Kirshner Eric: Elias Koteas Thomas: Don McKellar Tracey Brown: Sarah Polley Zoe: Arsinée Khanjian Harold: Victor Garber Inspector: David Hemblen Customs Officer: Calvin Green Man in Taxi: Peter Krantz Scalper: Jack Blum Man at opera: Billy Merasty Doorman: Ken McDougall Man at Opera: Damon D’Oliveira …: Maury Chaykin …: C.J. Lusby …: Nadine Ramkisson Film Crew: Screenplay: Atom Egoyan Editor: Susan Shipton Producer: Camelia Frieberg Set Dresser: Linda Del Rosario Set Dresser: Richard Paris Costume Design: Linda Muir Director of Photography: Paul Sarossy Assistant Director: David Webb Production Manager: Sandra Cunningham Assistant Production Manager: Roberta Pazdro Production Coordinator: Roland Schlimme Second Assistant Director: Fergus Barnes Third Assistant Director: Michele Rakich Other: Simone Urdl Other: Hussain Amarshi Assistant Production Coordinator: Carolynne Bell Extras Casting: Scott Mansfield Camera Trainee: Joseph Micomonaco Other: Mark Willis Focus Puller: Paul Boucher Steadicam Operator: David Crone Gaffer: David Owen Electrician: George Kerr Script Supervisor: Joanne T. Harwood Grip: Harper Forbes Boom Operator: Peter Melnychuk Set Dresser: Garth Brunt Makeup Artist: Nicole Demers Hair Designer: Debra Johnson Original Music Composer: Mychael Danna Sound Designer: Steve Munro Movie Reviews: badelf: The best psychological drama I’ve seen in a long time. I can’t even remember anything that comes close. Filipe Manuel Neto: **Something abstract and disconnected, not worth seeing more than once in our life.** This is one of those films that puts such a huge barrier between the audience and the screen that it seems like we’re not even being taken into consideration by the producers. Despite the attempts, there is not a single sympathetic or palatable character, the script does not help and the feeling that hangs in the air is of a lack of connection and solidity in the final product that can only be explained if we think about the way the director wanted to be. abstract by force. Everything takes place around a chic striptease club, Exotica, in Toronto. There is a dancer who enchants not only a client who goes to see her every day, but also the presenter, who is her ex-boyfriend and one of the most possessive and unhappy people we can imagine. Add to this an animal trafficker with problems admitting homosexuality who is forced to participate in a revenge plan, and we have a film that we probably won’t want to see more than once. Atom Egoyan gives us firm direction, but a much less secure and solid script. I like the way it addresses loss, trauma, the feeling of denial of reality and grief. However, to believe that a woman would set up an elegant strip club and her daughter would have the courage to take over the “family business” is to completely ignore the realities of these commercial establishments, where legality and illegality sometimes go hand in hand. A real luxury house would never hold private sessions on tables in the main room for a low price, but in separate rooms for a much higher price, and real strippers don’t usually dance to the same music and use the same stage number constantly. There are also huge holes that the script never explains and that are left hanging. For example, why did Christina decide to become a stripper if it is clear, from the characters’ words, that that is not the place she deserved to be. Bruce Greenwood is the actor who deserves the most praise for his work here. He is the only one trying to break the ice and reach out to the public in some way, and that deserv...

[biboocat]

“Hate was just a failure of imagination.”

- Graham Greene, The Power and the Glory

“It is a narrow mind which cannot look at a subject from different points of view.”

- George Eliot, Middlemarch

“I believe that this war, upon which I entered as a war of defense and liberation, has now become a war of aggression and conquest.”

- Siegfried Sassoon, Memoirs of an Infantry Officer

“Death is a dark dream, but it is not a nightmare. It is mankind’s lack of pity, mankind’s fatal propensity for torture, that is the nightmare. When a man or woman, confronted by helpless terror, is without the impulse to save, the world becomes hell.”

- Mary Webb, Gone to Earth

“There is no use in hating people – if you hate anything, you should hate what produced them.”

- Thomas Hardy, The Return of the Native

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Well... that was unexpected (subject to change)

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/9CYWjzA by scrambleddragonegg When Peter’s tear-filled goodbyes were meant to send him back to another Earth, he thought the wizard meant his Earth. This Earth had a city out of his imagination. A dark city with more smog than New York ever had. A city that crushes spirits before they can even be born. A city home to some of the most extreme villains Peter’s ever seen. This? This is not his earth. Words: 4629, Chapters: 3/?, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb), Batman: Wayne Family Adventures (Webcomic) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Peter Parker, Peter-Three (Spider-Man: No Way Home), Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Barbara Gordon, Other Character Tags to Be Added, Duke Thomas, Jonathan Kent, Bernard Dowd, Clark Kent, Selina Kyle, Diana (Wonder Woman) Relationships: Peter Parker/Jason Todd, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Bernard Dowd/Tim Drake Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, sometimes?, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Peter Parker, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Protective Jason Todd, Protective Tim Drake, Damian Wayne is a Little Shit, Protective Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Protective Alfred Pennyworth, Alfred Pennyworth is So Done, Alfred Pennyworth Ships It, holy shit that's a tag???, Explicit Language, it's jason todd my dudes, Bisexual Male Character, many of those, Bisexual Jason Todd, Bisexual Peter Parker, Bisexual Tim Drake, that's canon folks, Semi-Canon Compliant, Peter Parker is a Mess, Genius Peter Parker, Genius Tim Drake, Jason Todd Being a Little Shit, Jason Todd is a Menace, Jason Being Jason, canon-typical jason attitude, semi-canon compliant as in i play fast and loose with what is canon read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/9CYWjzA

[ear-worthy]

Unsung Science Podcast: Giving Voice To Untold Scientific Breakthroughs

Podcasting is particularly adept at science shows. Dope Labs, Science Vs, The Disappearing Spoon, and Unexplained are just a few of the noteworthy podcasts. Perhaps it is the lack of the visual component that challenges these shows to explain the science so efficiently using only words and sounds. It's not like you can wow your audience with an image from the Webb Telescope, and then sit back while your audience "oohs and ahhs."

Since science is such a broad and discursive topic, successful science podcasts have a "hook" that is designed to attract listeners. 

Unsung Science, produced by Simon & Schuster and CBS News, uses as its hook "The untold stories of mind-blowing achievements in science and tech."

What makes this science podcast so ear worthy is its excellent premise, skilled narrative storytelling, and superb host, taking you behind the scenes into the worlds of the people who’ve built the best in transportation, entertainment, food and other areas. What’s unique about these stories is that they veer from the well-traveled path of scientific discovery storytelling.

No Lindbergh, Alexander Graham Bell, and Thomas Edison here. Instead, listeners hear the untold stories of mind-blowing achievements that don't show up in your daily news feed. 

Some of my favorite episodes include the May 19th episode about David Peterson, the one man who makes a full-time living from creating, maintaining and safeguarding invented languages such as Star Trek's Klingon, and Dothraki and High Valyrian from HBO's Game Of Thrones. 

Want to ensure that your first date from a dating app goes sideways? Speak Klingon to your date as you explain your hobbies. 

Another favorite is also a recent one about how scientists at Colgate spent five years and millions of the company's dollars to design a recyclable tube of toothpaste. Then, Colgate made its patent available to other toothpaste makers. Wonders will never cease.

Unsung Science began in September 2021 and is in its second season. My favorite show of season one has to be the Baby Carrots episode. We learn that baby carrots are not really "babies" but the invention of a California carrot farmer and his family. The years-long saga of perfecting baby carrots by this farmer is an uplifting tale of perseverance, ingenuity, and imagination. After listening, you'll never look at carrots the same way.

The secret weapon of Unsung Science is the creator / host David Pogue. You've probably seen him on TV on CBS Sunday Morning, perhaps the best morning show on television. 

Pogue can handle narrative storytelling like Tom Brady could throw a football. He's master-class good at keeping listeners interested. Pogue also doesn't take himself or the subject matter too seriously. There's that sense of good-natured cynicism and raised-eyebrow humor that keeps the show from becoming too science-geeky. 

Pogue has superb narrative balance, explaining science, then waggishly pointing out the idiosyncratic tale surrounding the breakthrough.

Pogue's resume makes me realize that I am a serial underachiever.

 David Pogue was the New York Times weekly tech columnist from 2000 to 2013. He’s a six-time Emmy winner for his stories on CBS Sunday Morning, a New York Times bestselling author, a five-time TED speaker, host of 20 NOVA science specials on PBS, and creator/host of the CBS News/Simon & Schuster podcast Unsung Science.

He’s written or cowritten more than 120 books, including dozens in the Missing Manual tech series, which he created in 1999; six books in the For Dummies line (including Macs, Magic, Opera, and Classical Music); two novels (one for middle-schoolers); his three bestselling Pogue’s Basics books of tips and shortcuts (on Tech, Money, and Life); his how-to guides, iPhone Unlocked and Mac Unlocked; and his 2021 magnum opus, How to Prepare for Climate Change.

After graduating summa cum laude from Yale in 1985 with distinction in music, Pogue spent ten years conducting and arranging Broadway musicals in New York. He has won a Loeb Award for journalism, two Webby awards, and an honorary doctorate in music. 

Enough Pogue, now back to Unsung Science. The show offers listeners a learning experience, a science lesson that doesn't hurt your head, and a sense of things are always not what they seem, all while chuckling and smiling. 

This is one of my top recommendations for a podcast, science or otherwise. Check out Unsung Science and if you don't like it, feel free to contact me and tell me that I am full of it. Of course, I will only accept such feedback in Klingon or Dothraki.

[revolutionary-pirate]

@little-lion-rampant ‘s tags on this post: #but weren't they also involved in some scandals#or were those g-wash's personal guards  The Life Guard was Washington’s personal guard and, yes, the first thing we have on record about George Washington’s Life Guard’s is, unfortunately, an alleged conspiracy regarding an assassination attempt on Washington, his staff, and other officers just a month after the corp was founded as well as the exploding of the magazine and spiking of the canons when the British troops arrived in New York harbour . The first thing that Samuel Blachley Webb wrote in his journal upon being appointed an Aide-de-Camp to Washington was about this plot, which was thwarted the day he joined the staff: June 21st, 1776. Webb wrote that a few days before he arrived, Washington received word that there was a plot underfoot by the tories of the area where the army was encamped outside New York. Many officers and members of the guard were deployed at 2AM that morning in order to root out the leaders of the conspiracy and arrest them, namely Mayor David Matthews. To their surprise, they also discovered five members of the Life Guard were involved in the plot, most notably a man named Thomas Hickey. If you’ve watched TURN, you’re probably familiar with those names from the Finale of Season 2. In TURN, it’s Robert Townsend that sent word of this plot when he heard it being discussed in his new tavern. This is obviously not historically accurate considering the fact that it happened two years prior to when it happened in the show, but the circumstances of Washington finding out about this plot, weren’t too off the mark. A worker at the tavern that the conspirators were meeting in had hovered about in the room next door to eavesdrop and was able to overhear the plot being discussed and he sent out a word of warning and the dismantling of the conspiracy began. Thomas Hickey was hanged on June 28th before of the whole army for his role in the plot, having been the one who drew the others into the plot after having been bribed into it by Mayor Matthews. 

[eymie]

not a request but that thomas webb fic was EVERYTHING oh my god i read it twice in a row wow

OH EM GEE TYYYY (im writing more as we speak)

[iamvegorott]

I’ve already made (a version of) this on my blog, but what about a Markiplier Sanders Sides Au?

Morality: Engineer (Since there’s some angst going on with Patton and the other Sides, I figured Engineer would be a perfect candidate for a conflicting Morality. Name: James, after the James Webb telescope)

Logic: Google (runs Mark’s schedule and is the source of his workaholic nature. Name: Apollo)

Creativity: Actor (Roman kinda doubles as Thomas’ creativity and his pride, so I figured I’d do the same for Mark. Name: Marcus)

Anxiety: Yancy (A Tumblr mutual pointed out that as an embodiment of anxiety, Virgil acts tough to hide his fear and is against change, both of which Yancy also does)

Deceit: Dark/Damien (Mark says that he’s a social manipulator, so it only makes sense. Also, imagine him pretending to be Engineer/James and Yancy being wary of him the whole time, like Virgil was with Janus. He’s also the one that convinced Mark he’s not a masochist. 😆)

Intrusive Thoughts: Wilford (I mean, how could he not be? He’s chaotic and…well, that’s pretty much it. But that alone makes him a good pick. He’s the one giving Mark the thoughts of “testing his limits.”)

Oooooooo~~~

[ask-james-erickson]

Imagine having a broken limb-Thomas Webb

J: …

[adhoption]

Comedy club

Something which doesn’t really get talked about in terms of Old Boys Clubs in industries is comedy.

People know about politicians all coming from public schools and Oxbridge. The UK has had fifty-five Prime Ministers, of which 28 went to Oxford and 14 to Cambridge. Twenty of them went to school at Eton. It’s not even a historic thing, given that two of the past three went from Eton to Oxford to government. 

That’s seen as a sign that they are out of touch, an inner circle of privileged schoolmates who look down on the rest of us. People imagine similar scenarios in investment banking or law, where the top jobs are occupied by people who went to the right schools and universities and all know each other, so are able to give each other a leg up and keep social mobility under control.

But when it comes to mainstream comedians, they are the public figures we look to as relatable everypeople, the very ones who mock the out of touch elites and satirise their nepotism. A few are obviously posh, but that is played with a major part of their persona, like Miles Jupp or Ivo Graham self-deprecating and welcoming jibes about their privileged backgrounds, because comedy is for the people first of all.

But television comedy seems to have as high a quota of Cambridge graduates as there are Oxford graduates in the Government. A list of the past members of the Cambridge Footlights, the university dramatics club, pretty much makes up a timeline of British comedy. 

As well as mixing with the likes of Prince Charles and Salman Rushdie, Footlights members formed Monty Python (with members of the Oxford Revue) and the Goodies, and created classic satirical programmes Spitting Image and Yes Minister. 

They formed double acts like Alexander Armstrong and Ben Miller (and more lately daytime TV’s Armstrong and Richard Osman), Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie, Sue Perkins and Mel Giedroyc, David Mitchell and Robert Webb, Hugh Dennis and Steve Punt, Peter Cook and Dudley Moore and more. Griff Rhys Jones formed a partnership with Oxford’s Mel Smith.

But those who forge a path alone have also done pretty well for themselves. Alongside a bevy of famous actors, the Footlights have nurtured Douglas Adams, Clive Anderson, Sandi Toksvig, David Baddiel, Andy Parsons, Tim Key, Richard Ayoade, John Oliver, Alex Horne, Mark Watson, Simon Bird, Joe Thomas, Phil Wang and others alongside their first-class education.

(Their counterparts at the university’s great rivals, the Oxford Revue, had the rest of the Pythons, Stewart Lee and Richard Herring, Angus Deayton, Armando Ianucci, Rebecca Front, Richard Curtis, Rowan Atkinson, Sally Phillips, Al Murray and more who haven’t done too badly for themselves either.)

But even the solo artists are rarely left on their own. The industry is saturated with Oxbridge graduates who were part of the same societies, often at overlapping times, and sitcoms and panel shows are filled with familiar faces. Even on the stand-up circuit, comedians usually make their way by supporting a more famous act on tour to build up their own name, and it seems it would be easier to do that if one of the famous names used to do student sketches with you.

Of course, that’s only considering on-screen talent. The Footlights and Revue needed people to write and produce their shows, and so they also nurtured talents across the board. Smith and Jones formed the production company Talkback, which went on to produce hit comedy programmes (many created by Ianucci) including Brass Eye, I’m Alan Partridge, Green Wing and Da Ali G Show, as well as successful panel shows like QI and Never Mind the Buzzcocks. 

Ianucci also created other shows like The Thick Of It with fellow Oxford graduate Jon Plowman (and starring Front) and worked with Lee and Herring to write On the Hour for radio (the beginnings of a format and characters he would expand later on). Plowman was himself given his step up in the industry thanks to his Oxford friendship with Mel Smith, who he worked with in theatre for a time before becoming Head of Comedy in the BBC and responsible for commissioning new comedy shows, including French & Saunders and the Office.

Peter Fincham, another Footlights alumnus who was hired as Talkback’s creative director, went on to be the controller of BBC One and then the Director of Television for ITV. John Lloyd, another Footlights alumnus, created popular panel show QI. For the job of hosting it, he chose Footlights alumnus Stephen Fry. When Fry stepped down, he was replaced by Footlights alumnus Sandi Toksvig.

Lloyd was himself originally going to be given the job of hosting Have I Got News for You, which ultimately went to the Oxford Revue’s Angus Deayton, with Oxford graduate Ian Hislop as permanent team captain. Have I Got News for You was created by Hat Trick Productions, another production company which was also responsible for bringing Whose Line is it Anyway, Room 101, Outnumbered, and the Armstrong & Miller Show to our screens.

Armstrong & Miller were a Footlights double act. Room 101 was given to Nick Hancock, a Footlights president, to host. The first fifteen guests invited on included Peter Cook, another ex-president, Deayton, Hislop, Tony Slattery, Baddiel, and Germaine Greer, all of whom were in the Footlights or Revue, many at the same time. Outnumbered was a Hugh Dennis sitcom vehicle. The first series of Whose Line featured Slattery, Cook, Fry, Jan Ravens, Graeme Garden, Rhys-Jones and Rory McGrath, all from the Footlights (Sandi Toksvig was then added as a regular). Clive Anderson, another Footlights president, was given that job to host.

(Boris Johnson also notably featured on Room 101 and Have I Got News For You, providing a nice overlap with the Prime Minister trend above.)

Hat Trick Productions, the company behind all of these shows, was founded by Rory McGrath and Jimmy Mulville, another ex-president, who met, performed and wrote together in the Cambridge Footlights. Another of the large production companies, Endemol Shine UK, created panel/game shows 8 out of 10 Cats and Richard Osman’s House of Games. Osman graduated from Cambridge and the Footlights into a producer role at Hat Trick, before being appointed Endemol’s creative director, where he created Pointless, setting up his own career in front of the camera as well as hiring Footlights contemporary Armstrong as his co-host, as well as his two shows of his own. (8 out of 10 Cats host Jimmy Carr also went to Cambridge, although he came to comedy later on in life).

It’s Footlights/Revue all the way up. The panel shows provide an opportunity to invite a whole range of comedians on as guests and give a friend the leg-up they needed, and it’s no surprise that half of the guests end up being Footlights graduates, given that the host is, and the creator of the show is, and the people running the production company are, and the commissioning director of the television channel are. You simply get your peers to approve your show and then you get your peers to make it and you get your peers to host it and invite your peers to appear on it. After all, that was how you made your shows at university.

It works the same way for sitcoms, just with a slightly more permanent cast. But Footlights people are everywhere on stage and screen. The director of the National Theatre? Check. The producers of Comic Relief? Check. The list goes on and on, and many of the individuals barely mentioned above went on to create or chair their own shows (e.g. Alex Horne’s Taskmaster). 

So the question is - how many people have been given a gig because of their connections? How many of these people wouldn’t have been chosen if they hadn’t previously worked with the other party in their student days, or were at least a friend of a friend of a friend? It seems inconceivable that there was no in-group bias, that these people all just happened to be the objective best choice in an open hiring or commissioning process. But it’s something that I think most viewers aren’t even aware of.

[rockislandadultreads]

Art Historians in Fiction: Leading Women

Lorna Mott Comes Home by Diane Johnson

Lorna Mott Dumas, small, pretty, high-strung, the epitome of a successful woman--lovely offspring, grandchildren, health, a French husband, a delightful house and an independent career as an admired art lecturer involving travel and public appearances, expensive clothes. She's a woman with an uncomplicated, sociable nature and an intellectual life. But in an impulsive and planned decision, Lorna has decided to leave her husband, a notorious tombeur (seducer), and his small ancestral village in France, and return to America, much more suited to her temperament than the rectitude of formal starchy France. For Lorna, a beautiful idyll is over, finished, done . . . In Lorna Mott Comes Home, Diane Johnson brings us into the dreamy, anxiety-filled American world of Lorna Mott Dumas, where much has changed and where she struggles to create a new life to support herself. Into the mix--her ex-husband, and the father of her three grown children (all supportive), and grandchildren with their own troubles (money, divorce, real estate, living on the fringe; a thriving software enterprise; a missing child in the far east; grandchildren--new hostages to fortune; and, one, 15 years old, a golden girl yet always different, diagnosed at a young age with diabetes, and now pregnant and determined to have the child) . . . In the midst of a large cast, the precarious balance of comedy and tragedy, happiness and anxiety, contentment and striving, generosity and greed, love and sex, Diane Johnson, our Edith Wharton of expat life, comes home to America to deftly, irresistibly portray, with the lightest of touch, the way we live now.

The Laughter of Dead Kings by Elizabeth Peters

Who stole the mummy of King Tut? The brazen crime bears the earmarks of one Sir John Smythe, the international art thief. In fact, John Tregarth is the longtime significant other of Vicky Bliss. Innocent, he vows to clear his name by hunting down the true criminal. Vicky loses faith. But her boss, Munich Museum director Anton Z. Schmidt, "the finest swordsman in Europe", pays their luxurious way from London to Munich then Cairo, also to defend his own reputation. Once Schmidt deflects his new paramour Suzi, who only wants his body to spy on John, the entourage swells with the Egyptian officials responsible, cousins - wealthy Ashraf and poorer Feisel - plus mummy-expert mistress Saida. The Arab security guard, then a female middleman, both turn up dead. Dead hands, from her and from Tut, separately accompany notes, his is a ransom demand for millions. Kidnappers, murderers, and danger dog their way.

The Drowning Tree by Carol Goodman

Artfully imagined, intricately detailed, eerily poignant: these are the outstanding features of Carol Goodman’s literary thrillers. She is part novelist, part craftsman—and The Drowning Tree is her newest masterpiece. Juno McKay intended to avoid the nearby campus of her alma mater during her fifteenth reunion weekend, but she just can’t turn down the chance to see her longtime friend, Christine Webb, speak at the Penrose College library. Though Juno cringes at the inevitable talk of the pregnancy that kept her from graduating, and of her husband, Neil Buchwald, who ended up in a mental hospital only two years after their wedding, Juno endures the gossip for her friend’s sake. Christine’s lecture sends shockwaves through the rapt crowd when she reveals little-known details about the lives of two sisters, Eugenie and Clare—members of the powerful and influential family whose name the college bears. Christine’s revelation throws shadows of betrayal, lust, and insanity onto the family’s distinguished facade. But after the lecture, Christine seems distant, uneasy, and sad. The next day, she disappears. Juno immediately suspects a connection to her friend’s shocking speech. Although painfully reminded of her own experience with Neil’s mental illness, Juno nevertheless peels away the layers of secrets and madness that surround the Penrose dynasty. She fears that Christine discovered something damning about them, perhaps even something worth killing for. And Juno is determined to find it—for herself, for her friend, and for her long-lost husband.

Optic Nerve by María Gainza, Thomas Bunstead (Translator)

The narrator of Optic Nerve is an Argentinian woman whose obsession is art. The story of her life is the story of the paintings, and painters, who matter to her. Her intimate, digressive voice guides us through a gallery of moments that have touched her. In these pages, El Greco visits the Sistine Chapel and is appalled by Michelangelo’s bodies. The mystery of Rothko's refusal to finish murals for the Seagram Building in New York is blended with the story of a hospital in which a prostitute walks the halls while the narrator's husband receives chemotherapy. Alfred de Dreux visits Géricault's workshop; Gustave Courbet's devilish seascapes incite viewers “to have sex, or to eat an apple”; Picasso organizes a cruel banquet in Rousseau’s honor. . . . All of these fascinating episodes in art history interact with the narrator's life in Buenos Aires—her family and work; her loves and losses; her infatuations and disappointments. The effect is of a character refracted by environment, composed by the canvases she studies. Seductive and capricious, Optic Nerve is a book that captures, like no other, the mysterious connections between a work of art and the person who perceives it.

[myhauntedsalem]

Ghosts of Hollywood

Marilyn Monroe The Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel on Hollywood Boulevard is said to be the current residence of several ghosts of popular film stars. Marilyn Monroe, the glamorous and funny star of such pictures as Some Like It Hot and Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, was a frequent guest of the Roosevelt at the height of her popularity. And although she died in her Brentwood home, her image has been seen on several occasions in a full-length mirror that once hung in her poolside suite. The mirror has been relocated to the hotel's lower level by the elevators.

Montgomery Clift Another respected star who died before his time, Montgomery Clift, was a four-time Oscar nominated actor who is best known for his roles in A Place in the Sun, From Here to Eternity and Judgment at Nuremberg. His ghost has also been seen at the Roosevelt. According to some of the hotel's staff, Clift's spirit haunts room number 928. Clift stayed in that suite in 1953, pacing back and forth, memorizing his lines for From Here to Eternity. Loud, unexplained noises have been heard coming from the empty suite, and its phone is occasionally found mysteriously off the hook.

Perhaps it's fitting that the Hollywood Roosevelt should be the stirring place of celebrity ghosts since it was the site of the very first Academy Awards ceremony in 1929. In fact, the Blossom Ballroom, where the ceremony was held, has an unexplained cold spot - a circular area measuring 30 inches in diameter that remains about 10 degrees colder than the rest of the room.

Harry Houdini Houdini is best known as a magician and escape artist, of course, but at the height of his fame he was also drawn to Hollywood, where he made a handful of silent films from 1919 to 1923. With such titles as The Man from Beyond and Haldane of the Secret Service (which he also directed), the films were not regarded well enough to give him much of a Hollywood career. Houdini's interest in the occult was well known, and although he earned a reputation as a masterful debunker of séances, he earnestly sought contact with those who have passed on to the other side. Shortly before his death, Houdini made a pact with his wife Bess that if he could, he would return and make contact with her from the other side. Perhaps he truly has attempted to return. Some claim to have seen the ghost of the great Houdini walking around in the home he owned on Laurel Canyon Blvd. in the Hollywood Hills. Film historians Laurie Jacobson and Marc Wanamaker, in their book Hollywood Haunted, dispute this story, saying that "Houdini most likely never even set foot in the Laurel Canyon mansion he is said to haunt."

Clifton Webb Clifton Webb was a very popular star of the 1940s and '50s, earning two Oscar nominations for his roles in Laura and The Razor's Edge. He may be best known for his portrayal of Mr. Belvedere in a series of films. It's not too often that a ghost haunts the place in which the person is buried, but this seems to be the case for Webb. His ghost has been seen at the Abbey of the Psalms, Hollywood Memorial Cemetery, where his body is interred. But it seems to be a restless spirit, as his ghost has also been encountered at his old home on Rexford Drive in Beverly Hills.

Thelma Todd Thelma Todd was a hot young star in the 1930s. She was featured in a number of hit comedies with the likes of The Marx Brothers, Laurel and Hardy, and Buster Keaton. But that all ended in 1935 when Todd was found dead in her car, which was parked above the café she owned on the Pacific Coast Highway. Strangely, her death was ruled an accidental suicide, but many suspected murder and a coverup by powerful Hollywood figures. The building that once housed the café is now owed by Paulist Productions, and employees have reportedly witnessed the starlet's ghost descending the stairs.

Thomas Ince Ince is considered one of the visionary pioneers of American movies. He was one of the most respected directors of the silent era, best known, perhaps, for his westerns starring William S. Hart. He partnered with other early Hollywood giants such as D.W. Griffith and Mack Sennett, and founded Culver Studios, which later became MGM. Ironically, Ince's death overshadowed his film legacy. He died aboard William Randolph Hearst's yacht in 1924, and although the official record shows the cause of death as heart failure, the hot rumor is that he was shot by Hearst in a fit a jealousy over Hearst's wife, Marion Davies. Ince's ghost - as well as several other ghostly figures - have been seen in the lot that was once Culver Studios. Film crew members have seen the specter of a man matching Ince's description on several occasions; in one instance, when the workers tried to speak to the spirit, it turned and disappeared through a wall.

Ozzie Nelson Ghosts and hauntings are the last thing that come to mind when you think of the perpetually cheerful Ozzie and Harriet Nelson. The couple, with their real-life sons Ricky and David, were stars of the long-running sitcom "Ozzie and Harriet," noted for its good-natured, gentle humor. Yet poor Ozzie doesn't seem to be as contented in the afterlife. Family members, it is said, have seen Ozzie's ghost in the family's old Hollywood home, and it always appears to be in a somber mood. Perhaps he's unhappy about how another Ozzy and his family have gained notoriety on TV.

George Reeves From 1953 to 1957, George Reeves was TV's Superman. Reeves had been around Hollywood for a while, playing bit parts in such films as Gone with the Wind and dozens of B-movies, but it was "The Adventures of Superman" on TV that brought him fame. Reeves died of a gunshot at his home in 1959. The official cause of death was suicide, but that conclusion has been hotly disputed, with some believing that Reeves was murdered. Whether it was suicide or murder, Reeves ghost has been seen in his Beverly Hills home. A couple claims to have seen the ghost of Reeves - decked out in his Superman costume - materialize in the bedroom where he died, after which it slowly faded away. Others believe that Reeves succumbed to the "Superman curse," in which those associated with the fictional character over the years allegedly have met with disaster or death. But is there really a curse? 

More Celebrity Ghosts

Rudolph Valentino - This silent film heartthrob has been seen in the bedroom and stables of his old Hollywood home. Jean Harlow - The spirit of this blonde bombshell is said to haunt the bedroom of her home on North Palm Drive, where her husband allegedly used to beat her. Mary Pickford - This legend of the silent era - actress, writer and producer - was co-founder of United Artists with her husband Douglas Fairbanks and Charlie Chaplin. Comic Buddy Rogers, who lived in the house Pickford once owned, saw her ghost appear in a white ruffled dress. Grace Kelly - Princess Stephanie of Monaco believes that the ghost of her mother, Grace Kelly, helped her write a song from the spirit world.

Celebrities Who Have Seen Ghosts

Nicholas Cage - This Oscar-winning actor (Leaving Las Vegas) refused to stay in uncle Francis Ford Coppola's home after seeing a ghost in the attic. (Cage was also cast as Superman in director Tim Burton's film project, which was never made.) Keanu Reeves - The star of The Matrix films and Devil's Advocate was just a kid in New Jersey when he saw a ghost that took the form of a white double-breasted suit come into his room one night. He wasn't imagining it; his nanny saw the phantom, too. Neve Campbell - She's been in more than her share of paranormal-themed movies (The Craft, Scream), but she's had real-life encounters as well. A woman was murdered in the house she now lives in, and friends have seen her ghost walking around. Matthew McConaughey - This popular actor (Contact) says he freaked out the first time he saw the ghost of an old woman, whom he calls "Madame Blue," floating around his house. Tim Robbins - Robbins, who was nominated for an Oscar in Mystic River, didn't see ghosts, but strongly felt their presence when he moved into an apartment in 1984. Following his instinct, he moved out the next day. Hugh Grant - British romantic comedy lead Hugh Grant (Love Actually) says he and friends have heard the wailing and screaming of some tormented spirit in his Los Angeles home. He even speculates it might be the ghost of a former resident - Bette Davis. Dan Aykroyd - The Ghostbusters star (and Oscar-nominated for Driving Miss Daisy) has long had a fascination with the paranormal. He believes his home, once owned by Cass Elliot of The Mamas and The Papas, is haunted. "A ghost certainly haunts my house," he said. "It once even crawled into bed with me. The ghost also turns on the Stairmaster and moves jewelry across the dresser. I'm sure it's Mama Cass because you get the feeling it's a big ghost." Sting - Rock star Sting (Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels) and his wife Trudie have seen ghosts in their home. "I was absolutely terrified," he said. "I now believe those things are out there, but I have no explanation for them." Jean Claude Van Damme - The Belgian action star (Timecop), also known as "Muscles from Brussels," swears he saw a ghost in his bathroom mirror while he was brushing his teeth. Richard Dreyfuss - He won an Oscar for The Goodbye Girl, but at one time had a cocaine problem. Visions of a ghost, he said, helped him kick the habit. "I had a car crash in the late 1970s," Dreyfuss said, "when I was really screwed up, and I started seeing these ghostly visions of a little girl every night. I couldn't shake this image. Every day it became clearer and I didn't know who the hell she was. Then I realized that kid was either the child I didn't kill the night I smashed up my car, or it was the daughter that I didn't have yet. I immediately sobered up." Ethan Hawke and Uma Thurman - This Hollywood couple was forced to flee their "dream home" in Sneden's Landing, N.Y. when it became all too apparent that it was haunted. They still are reluctant to talk about their frightening encounters. Belinda Carlisle - This pop singer and founding member of The Go-Gos, who appeared in Swing Shift and She's Having a Baby, says she saw a "misty shape" hovering over her as she lay in bed one night. She also says that when she was 17, while nodding off to sleep in a chair in her parents' home, she levitated and had an out-of-body experience. Elke Sommers - This German-born actress, who appeared in the 1966 film The Oscar, claims to have seen the ghost of a middle-aged man in a white shirt in her home in North Beverly Hills. Guests in her home have also seen the specter. So much paranormal activity was reported in the house that the American Society for Psychical Research was brought in, and which verified the unexplained events. The severely haunted house was bought and sold more than 17 times since Sommers vacated it, and many have reported ghostly phenomena. Paul McCartney - Ex-Beatle and Oscar-nominated songwriter ("Live and Let Die") says that he, George Harrison and Ringo Starr sensed the playful spirit of John Lennon when they were recording Lennon's song, "Free As A Bird" in 1995. "There were a lot of strange goings-on in the studio - noises that shouldn't have been there and equipment doing all manner of weird things. There was just an overall feeling that John was around."

[biboocat]

Precious Bane by Mary Webb (25 March 1881 – 8 October 1927), a new author for me. The time of the story is only 200 or so years ago, but the remote, rural Shropshire setting, the dialect & unusual names, and the religious & folkloric traditions create a mysterious mood that seems almost medieval. The mood for example is epitomized by the description of a funeral: the traditional nighttime procession by torch light, the funeral attire with black streamers, boughs of rosemary, funeral cakes wrapped in black edged paper, the macabre role of the “sin-eater”. It took a little time to get use to dialect and learn about some of the folkloric traditions, but then it’s easy to follow. I found three brief videos of Mary Webb by Cath Edwards on YouTube interesting and helpful in explaining a few of the folkloric traditions that appear in Precious Bane. The heroine and narrator, young Prue Sarn is a beautiful creation. Her goodness, wisdom, and spunky nature are in the mold of Maggie Tulliver in The Mill on the Floss and Tess d’Urbervilles, and of course one is greatly sympathetic towards someone who privately suffers from being created differently from others. I love the pervasiveness of nature’s beauty which reminds me fondly of Thomas Hardy’s novels. There is also an indictment against the evil of man: greedy ambition, lust, cruelty, how evil men cloak their hate, misogyny, and murderous intent with religious and other superstitious conventions: “Suffer not a witch to live!”, “Hare-shotten!” Finally, there is Kester Woodseaves, one of literature’s greatest heroes. It’s an amazing novel, one of my favorites of all time. Beyond her impressive technical prowess, Mary Webb gives us a vision of morality to imagine and emulate.❤️

Some memorable excerpts:

He was ever a strong man, which is almost the same, times, as to say a man with little time for kindness. For if you stop to be kind, you must swerve often from your path. So when folk tell me of this great man and that great man, I think to myself, who was stinted of joy for his glory? How many old folk and children did his coach wheels go over? What bridal lacked his song, and what mourner his tears, that he found time to climb so high?

So cruel can folk be and mean nothing. (People can be cruel unintentionally.) This was the reward for my kind act. But those that say good doings are rewarded are wrong.

Was it all of the flesh, as it was with the young squire, or did my soul that was twin to his (Kester Woodseaves) draw him and wile him, succor his heart and summon his love, even, then? For I do think that the spirit makes herself busy about the body, and breathes through it and throws a veil over it to make it more fair than it is of itself. For what is flesh alone?

At the hiring fair: I was glad I worked at whome, and had no need to go and be hired, for certain sure nobody ud have taken me. It was a bitter thought, that.

At a bull baiting: I could see the bull, a little white one, tied to a staple in the wall of the ball ring, which was a semi circle built of rough gray stones. The bright yellow sunshine held them all, as if they were bees in the mid of the honeycombs, and the blue air, the brown water, the green meadow were all so fair, I could not believe blood must be shed on such a day. I wonder to myself, times, if it was fair, clear weather on Golgotha when Mary looked up at the cross, and whether there was some small bird singing, and the bees busy in the clover. Ah! I think it was glass–clear weather, and bright. For no bitter lacked in that cup, and surely one of the bitterest things is to see the cruelty of men on some fair morning with blessing in it.

There’s none so fierce as a loving woman, and it always seemed a strange thing to me that the mother of Jesus could keep her hands off the Centurion, and it could only have been because her Son had given orders afore. But indeed if it had been me, I think I should have forgot the orders.

I’ll be bound, if we could choose our heaven. I’m not very choice of golden streets myself. And I’d like my heaven afore I die.

#marywebb