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#left bank pictures production
earthshipvoice · 6 months
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i'm three days into becoming familiar with projects from Left Bank Pictures Production. however, it's their post-production team, particularly the color grading, that truly stands out. honorable mentions also go to their DP, production designer, gaffer, editor, location manager, filming crew, and makeup team for Everything Now.
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loveindefinitely · 5 months
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༊*·˚ NEW JOBS AND DEATH THREATS — cod x reader
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CRAVE YOU — call of duty x reader CHAPTER ONE
featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + alejandro vargas + rodolfo 'rudy' parra + könig + keegan p. russ
warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, prison au, serial killer au, reverse harem, therapist/patient, medical inaccuracies, graphic violence, depictions of murder, everyone's unhinged, poly tf141, minor ships, threesomes, foursomes, gangbangs, this is not medical advice!!
series masterlist. read on ao3.
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Life was hard. That was a fact.
Bills and groceries didn’t pay for themselves. That was also a fact.
Adding these two factors together, the final product will be a high-risk job in one of the highest-risk places on Earth. That’s… not a fact.
And yet, here you are, standing at the visitor entrance of Las Almas Prison, sporting a disgruntled grimace and a new pair of black slacks that you’d splurged on. They, at least, made your ass look good, although that was truly the least of your worries.
No. Your current list of worries looked something like this;
Getting Murdered
Getting Attacked
Vomiting Within The First Five Minutes Of Your New Job?
…Yeah. Something like that.
The early morning sun is blinding where it sits, just off to the side of the giant concrete building that was the main offices and Visitor Centre. The fact that you were standing in front of what was only a small part of the overall prison grounds was… alarming.
You were well aware that this was the largest prison in your country, housing the most lethal and awful of criminals. Some you’d seen either on the news, or heard of in passing conversations.
This was the real deal. And, somehow, you’d managed to find yourself being hired to work here. You. Work with serial killers. The worst of the worst.
With the stress on your bank account, and the endless struggle that was trying to find a stable career in the current job market, you simply had no other choice but to accept the offer. It paid extremely well, had great benefits, and your safety was… fairly considered.
The amount of NDAs, liability clauses and agreements, however?
Not the best at calming your nerves, to say the least.
The biting chill of the winter wind has you wrapping your arms around yourself, leather bag slung over your shoulder as you finally step through the automatic sliding door.
You’re not surprised to find that the chill only deepens inside the concrete walls of the building, with no heaters or air conditioning from what you can see. There is, however, bright white overhead lights that do nothing except aid the throbbing in the side of your head – probably due to the restless sleep you’d had the night before, anticipation and anxiety warring inside of your thoughts.
There’s an office in front of you as you step in, with only a few decades-old couches to your right, in front of a dingy TV that’s turned off. Saving their budget for more important things, you suppose.
The walls are a pale, grimy yellow, with sparse photos hung about, framing newspaper articles that are surely from the last century, and black and white pictures of the prison’s opening.
It’s an unsettling place, that much you’ve already gathered.
You haven’t even actually been inside the prison, you remind yourself, your stomach churning where it now lays at your feet.
Without a second thought, you continue with hurried steps to the front desk, where scratched plastic encases the sole woman inside, sitting behind a monitor. There’s a circle of holes that allow for sound to pass through, but other than that, there’s no way of entering from this room. With a quick study of your surroundings, you see a steel door to the left of where the desk sits, with a small square window covered in iron bars.
…Jesus christ.
“Can I help you?” The woman drawls, sliding her glasses further up her nose. Her voice is nasally, and the words come out in a slow drawl as she looks you up and down, unimpressed.
You give her your best smile, although even you can tell that it’s an uneasy one. “Yes! This is my first day, I think I’m supposed to be meeting Kate Laswell?” You ask, nerves betraying your voice with unsteady breaths.
The woman snaps her gum.
You stand there.
She blows it again.
You continue to stand there.
Her gaze is bored and completely void of any thought, before she nods slowly. “Laswell… I’ll call her.”
Really, you couldn’t be more shocked if you tried. What the fuck was happening? How could one lack so much… professionalism?
“Hi, Kate. Yes, it’s Jenny. I have a new hire who apparently wants to see you…” Her voice remains that unbearably slow, sloth-like delivery, before her eyes unhurriedly meet yours again. “What’s your name…?”
You give it to her, tone only the slightest bit impatient as you roll back on the heels of your feet. You can only hope that your black boots are appropriate; you’d figured that they were safe, closed-toe and still somewhat professional.
Time would tell. Jenny was giving you the impression that they were more than acceptable, because at least they got you to do your job in a timely manner.
Jenny says a few more words to who can only pray is Laswell on the other end of the phone, before she places it back in its holder. 
“Laswell will be here any…” She pops her gum once more, and maybe, just maybe, you can understand the urge to murder. “Moment.”
You give her a tight, painful smile. “Thank you, Jenny.”
She doesn’t respond, and you decide to just stand back and wait. You certainly weren’t complaining – any more conversation with her would’ve ended with a severe lack of hair on your head.
A minute passes, before a buzz in the pocket of your slacks has your throat tightening. 
Pulling out your phone, your next exhale comes out shaky as you read the text.
Charlie: get milk otw home used it all
No ‘good luck’. No… ounce of care for you, or the absolute stress that comes with a new job, let alone one like this.
When you’d told him about the offer, all he’d said was, “It might make you worth something for a change.” Didn’t even question, not for a minute, the risks that came with a job like this. He simply couldn’t give less of a fuck.
“Doctor?” The sound of a door opening, and the kind, almost motherly tone of the voice has you shoving your phone into your pocket once more as you turn to the source of the sound.
It’s a woman, her hair pulled back into a slick bun, one hand holding what seems to be a clipboard. Her other hand rests in the pocket of a white coat, not unlike one a scientist would be fashioning in a lab. Her smile is warm, the corner of her eyes crinkling as you direct a smile of your own her way.
“Kate Laswell?” You ask, extending your hand for her to shake. Taking her hand out of her pocket, she accepts it gracefully, nodding her head.
“The one and only,” she says, before gesturing to the steel door she’d entered through. “Now, today we’ll get you set up with a keycard, general rules, and I’ll have you meet two of your patients.”
You nod, following her as she swipes a card in a black reader, before the red light buzzes green, and she pulls the door open. Right behind her, you take an unstable deep breath as you take in the greyed, jagged walls, a complete contrast to the painted ones of the entrance room.
“We really are so glad to welcome you to our team,” she continues, her black work shoes clicking against the smooth concrete flooring. She doesn’t turn to you as she speaks, but her voice carries around the echoey hallway. “You’ll make a great addition. A necessary one, also. We’ve needed an innovative, young therapist for a while. Most of our… previous hires have held out-dated beliefs, and a lack of humanity for their clientele.”
That makes your brows furrow in confusion. “That’s… odd,” you murmur, before pausing your steps as Laswell stops, swiping her keycard, before entering another room.
As you step into the newly revealed space, your eyes go wide as you take it in. 
It’s a wide, large space, with several floors. Metal staircases sit at either end of the vast space, allowing access to every floor. Guards sit at every level, some walking around the space where you and Laswell stand.
It’s a lot, all at once. You’d never even stepped foot into a prison – not before now.
“Most inmates are at the mess for breakfast,” Laswell supplies, turning to you with a neutral expression. She gestures for you to follow her back out of the space, and you do with hurried steps. “The ones you’ll be dealing with, however… they usually eat by themselves.”
You don’t decide to push that statement, not now, as you continue to follow her down the hallway.
“You won’t be seeing much of the prison,” she admits. “There’s heavily guarded spaces on the top floor for your sessions, both for your protection and for the safety of our staff and other low-risk inmates.”
You nod, humming a sound of affirmation as the two of you start heading up the cleaner steps at the end of the hallway. The staff staircase, you suppose.
“Today, you’ll be meeting two of our more… understanding ambers.”
You raise a brow. “Ambers? What does that mean?”
She turns her head over her shoulder, just enough to shoot you a knowing look. “Ambers are our highest-risk inmates. We house ten of them, and you’ll be dealing with eight as per your contract.”
Your stomach falls. You’d known, of course, that the risks were high when applying for this role. But… this was more than you’d imagined, in a way. Ambers. Huh.
Silence falls over the two of you as you make your way up the never-ending steps, no windows in sight. It’s unnerving, in a creepy, strange way. When you finally reach the top, you try and hide how out of breath you are from that small exertion.
Fucking christ.
Laswell, for her part, looks completely fine in an effortless way. You can’t eve find it in yourself to be envious. The feeling’s closer to admiration.
“Here’s the files on them both. You’ll be seeing Kyle Garrick first,” she hands you the clipboard she’d been carrying, and you accept it with only a slight tremble. She doesn’t comment on it, and you find yourself warming up to her already. “They’ll be restrained, and there is heavy security, so you needn’t worry about that side of things.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” you say earnestly, flipping through the files without reading much of anything, not yet. 
She waves you off with a soft chuckle. “None of that. Kate’s more than fine,” she insists, and you give her a bright smile in return. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad – a boss like this was much better than a creepy middle-aged man any day of the week.
You don’t realise you’ve made it to a small room until she stops walking, scanning her keycard and pushing the door open, gesturing you in. “While you have your first two sessions, I’ll sort your keycard and the rest of the processes out. I wish you luck.”
With that, the door shuts behind you, and you’re alone in a small room.
It matches the rest of the hallways you’ve seen – grey concrete walls, grey concrete floors. The only furniture, however, is one metal table drilled into the floor in the centre, one chair on either side. 
…It’s depressing. Not at all like you’d prefer, not for a fucking therapy session, but then again, you hadn’t met your clients yet.
Ambers. High-risk.
With a deep breath, you take a seat at the chair closest to you, finally reading through the top file on the clipboard.
Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick. 
You skim over the height, weight, sex – immediately reading the comments made and his sentence.
Mass murderer. Motivated attacks.
Your eyes go wide, almost comically so, as you bite at your lip, folding one leg over the other as you continue to read. 
Of course, you’d prepared, been made aware that you’d be dealing with murderers. But having it in black and white, right in front of you, is a whole other thing entirely. 
Apparently, they were motivated attacks. Targets being large CEOs, specifically those with reported claims of misuse of power, and those against green laws. Anti-environment types.
The motive is… you’re aware killing is bad. You hadn’t spent years studying for a degree in Psychology to think otherwise. But it wasn’t as simple as some made it out to be. You’d done papers suggesting that certain motives implied healthier patterns, healthier outlets.
If you had to choose between him killing pregnant women, and CEOs with broken moral compasses?
It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out your answer.
You’re about to flip the page when there’s a knock on the door on the other side of the room, before it opens.
There’s two guards that walk in, before a man in an olive green jumpsuit follows, hands cuffed tightly together in front of him, head down. Another guard from behind shoves him in, too rough for your liking. You sit up straighter, eyes assessing as you take in the man in the jumpsuit.
He’s forced into the chair opposite you, before one of the guards grabs his cuffed wrists and chains them to a rig in the middle of the table. You’re grateful for the precautions, but there’s a part of you that feels guilty watching the manhandling of the seemingly calm man.
“Half an hour,” the most brutish guard of them all grits out, beer belly spilling out over his belted jeans. He jostles the chain attaching his wrists to the table unnecessarily, and your eyes narrow.
He goes to leave, along with another guard, but one stands to stay in position inside, beside the door.
Your brows furrow, and you speak up before you can stop yourself. “Sorry, sir, but my sessions will need confidentiality, as for the best results. I’m sure that I’ll be safe with his restraints.”
The guard stares you down, seemingly mulling your words over, before shrugging and leaving the room, door shutting behind him.
…Huh. Alright.
You find your posture relaxing, just slightly, which is odd, considering you’re now only a metre or two away from a convicted murderer.
His gaze is trained to the table, left foot tapping incessantly against the concrete floor.
“It’s nice to meet you, Gaz,” you say with a soft tone and a gentle smile. You figure that his nickname is the best bet, not wanting to stir up any possible traumas with his given name during your first session with the man. “I’ll be your new psychiatric evaluator.”
His eyes flick up, meeting yours, and he nods slowly, as if awaiting a punchline. 
“Is it okay for me to call you Gaz?” You ask, tilting your head to the side and flipping to an empty page to take notes on. You’d need to grab a notebook from home, you decide.
He relaxes, only the smallest of movements, and he nods. “Gaz, yeah.”
Your smile widens at the small victory. Any step towards progress was a huge one, in your eyes. You’d be facing a lot of them in the coming days.
“Do you have any advice for this place?” You push, trying to form a bond of trust with the dark-haired man. “I’m gonna be honest, you’re my first patient, and I’ve only met Laswell and… Jenny?”
His mouth quirks at that, a dimple showing to the left of his mouth as he looks back up at you. “Jenny’s a character, ain’t she?”
You laugh, a genuine one, and nod. “She certainly is. You’ve met her?”
He shrugs, shoulders relaxing slightly. “Few times, yeah. She drives me up the fuckin’ wall.” His accent is only minimally apparent, but his voice is of a somewhat humorous tone.
Small victories.
“Well,” he exhales, settling into his chair a bit as he seems to ponder. “Do ya know who else you’re assigned to?”
You’d been sure to thoroughly go over your contract, and you were allowed to disclose your other patients between your others. They’d find out within the day, anyways, so there was no point in being discreet.
“It’s only you and a… John Price? Today. I’m sure I’ll find out the other six over the next few days,” you say, appreciating that he’s starting conversations. It’s more than you’d allowed yourself to hope for.
Gaz’s eyes light up, and even if you hadn’t been incessant in watching him, it’d be an obvious shift in emotions. “Price?”
You nod, quickly making a note on your clipboard, before folding your hands in your lap as you gesture for him to continue with a quick inclination of your head.
“He’s the best. Man’s a legend,” he enthuses. “Love ‘im.”
There’s… a hidden truth to that statement, that you make a mental note to unpack during a later session. Your smile is a natural one as you say, “He’s an amber, correct? Laswell told me I’d been assigned eight out of ten ambers… you’re one of them, right?”
Gaz seems to fold into himself, and you kick yourself for going back to square one. He answers, however.
“...Yeah. Only Ghost ‘nd Valeria are aggressive, though. We’re just… misunderstood,” he murmurs, and in the back of your brain, you find yourself believing his words.
“Thank you,” you smile, and he responds with a sharp one of his own. Maybe you’d covered more ground than you’d expected. “I think it’d been mentioned that I was only assigned men, due to the nature of the job, or something like that.”
Seeming to mull over your words, he starts to slowly nod. “Sounds ‘bout right. As long as you don’t get Graves, you’ll be alright. The others are… fuckin’ weird, but they’re good men. Mostly.”
That’s a lot of information at once, and quite frankly, it takes a moment for you to process. 
“‘Good men’. What do you think it takes to be a good man?” You ask, curiosity laced into your tone. Getting to ask such questions of a convicted murderer, it’s a thrilling, exhilarating task.
His eyes don’t shift as he replies. “Good men do the acts others are too scared to do. They see the evil in the world, and rid of it with their own bare hands. You can be an ethical murderer, Doc.”
Those words, they’re – they’re authentic, and conviction aches in their structure. 
You swallow around a dry mouth.
“You think you’re a good man?” You ask.
His smile would be seen as warm to any who weren’t aware of his acts, but to you – it’s chilling. Haunting in a way you’ve never experienced.
It remains as he answers.
“I think that I’m a man who people wish they had the bravery to be.”
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a/n. okay so im really nervous about posting this, cause ITS EIGHT FUKCING LOVE INTERESTS and also im a humanities girl not a science one!! sociology all the way not psych!! so forgive me for all the inaccuracies and legality issues please. im just a girl. hopefully u guys will like this one? i mean, obsessed serial killers cod is smth i need so here we are. all comments and feedback mean so muchhh ty ily mwah mwah mwah
taglist comment/msg to be added. [nothing to see here.]
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elfven-blog · 9 months
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Proven Right
Summary: Leon has been fascinated with his neighbour for 5 years now, and he finally comes back from Spain with a plan. RE4!Leon Kennedy x F!Reader CW: MDNI, 18+ only, Stalking, camera watching, compromising picture, mutual masturbation , p in v, creampie (if I have missed any please let me know)
Word count: 3K
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It had started when he had moved out of the training dorms and finally into his own apartment. There had been a subtle scent of peaches float past his open door as he moved the meagre number of possessions he had into the small apartment. It had been 5 years since then, and yeah, he could have moved since then. Lord knows he could afford it, but that would also mean moving away from you.
The scent of peaches quickly became his favourite, after he’d managed to befriend you over the years and had access to your home he’d found some of the products you used. The peach scrub, peach body mist and some of the lip gloss you wore too…he had duplicates of all of them. He’d even brought the same shampoo and conditioner as you once but then you made a comment about how you preferred his previous smell, and he quickly went back to that.
It wasn’t just your scent that he had adopted, he learnt to cook some of your favourite food (loving the look on your face when he had ‘extra’ and the way you’d bake him brownies in response), he’d watched your favourite film over and over until he had it memorised and could make offhand comments when you watched it together, and he’d even read up on that game with zombies that you seemed so obsessed with. Had even helped you beat some of the harder fights…and God Leon has sworn to get better video games, the way you watched with awe as he fired the virtual gun and how you flung your arms around him and pulled him so tight that he could feel your breasts press up against him.
Maybe he had that banked in his memory store to use in the shower.
“Lee! Oh my god, are you okay?” He was pulled from his trailing mind at the sound of that sweet voice as he turned from his door to look at you. Dishevelled, door open most of the way, slippers on his feet and it looked like you had rushed to the door at the sound of his key in his own doors lock. But wait…was that his shirt? He thought he had lost it months ago; he must have left it at yours during one of your many movie nights. You could keep it, looked so much better on you. “I was so worried”.
About him? You’re so sweet. He smiles at you, nodding his head and moving away from his door to wrap his arms around you. This wasn’t an odd amount of affection for the both of you. Leon felt himself relax as your arms wrapped around him too, squeezing him tight. “Sorry darling, they really needed me at the other branch”.
He felt you pat his back, and he pulled away so you wouldn’t get uncomfortable with too long of a hug. You smile up at him as you both pull back, and he notices the bags under your eyes before you shrug at him “It’s okay, missed our weekly sleepover but you can make it up to me this weekend?” Leon had never nodded so fast.
He watched as you walked back into your apartment before opening his own and moving in through the door.
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When Leon received your message that you had finished work, and he could come over he felt his heart race. He stared at himself in the mirror as he finished getting ready, making sure to use that cologne he’d noticed you seemed to enjoy. Always leaning closer when he wore it.
He had plan. Today, tonight. It would work.
Leon watched his phone on the counter as he made sure his cuts were covered and nothing would be too painful, the screen lit up with the inside of your apartment. And there you were, flitting around to make sure there were enough blankets and snacks, and you had even gone out and brought his favourite drink.
A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Something that would be immensely helpful tonight, these cameras that he’d helped you install for security reasons. It felt like pure luck when you asked him for that help, learning what make and company the camera was meant it was much easier to hack into. And getting one of the IT specialists to do it was even easier with his clearance. ‘Just want to see if I should get a different one if this is too easy get into’.
He moved out of the bathroom, phone still in hand as he grabbed the snacks he’d gone and brought for the both of you. Once he’d made sure his door was locked, triple checking just in case, it was mere seconds before he was letting himself into your apartment. Something you both often did when expecting each other, no need to knock. “Hey! Brought snacks” his rough timbre sounded out and you replied with a short ‘Living room!’.
He took his boots off at the door, making his way to where you were, smiling at you as he put the snacks down before sitting close to you on the sofa. His arm resting on the back, and his legs spreading. Leon had worn those jeans you’d complimented, the ones that hugged his legs in a way that showed the muscle he’d spent years building. You could never keep your eyes off his thighs in these jeans, and then you’d spend the rest of the night with your hand between your own.
You didn’t question the position he put himself in, it feels almost natural to be this close to him, to have his warmth permeate into your side as you leant your head back against his arm. You pulled the thick blanket over both of you, Leons brows furrowing as it covered the sight of his legs, so he pushed it off him and pulled it to cover more of you. When you turned your head to look at him he shrugged and mumbled an excuse of not being cold right now. You accepted the reason with a nod before asking what movie he wanted to watch.
The blonde pretended to think for a moment before taking the remote and putting a movie on, “This one’s meant to be good…haven’t seen it yet” He knew you hadn’t either, and there was no indication of the special part in this movie, one he knew would get you biting your lip and squeezing your thighs together.
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And it’s bit further into the movie where he’s proven right, you’ve been stealing glances at him all night. Your eyes lingering on his legs and the arm around the back of the sofa, which has, for unknown reasons, managed to slip down to round your waist. His fingers drawing circles across the soft skin of your waist. Distractingly. But you manage to keep your eyes on the screen, not wanting to ruin whatever friendship you’d built with the man and worried that he would never feel the same.
You had understood why he picked this movie, a great distraction from the ‘government job’ he’d told you he had. Never telling you specifics but it had him away for days at a time so it must be tiresome. But you hadn’t expected a full 10 minutes of sex to play part way during it, and by the way he sighed, and a pink dusted his cheeks neither had Leon. It was a good movie; you could power through a few minutes…okay 5 that’s a good length…10? Why’s it still going.
Eyes glued to the screen as your breath shallowed, and thighs pressed together you tried to pretend it wasn’t affecting you. That you weren’t imagining your hot blonde neighbour being the one to bend you over that desk like the protagonist currently was to the partner he had. That you weren’t thinking of him drawing those slow circles somewhere else.
Leons hasn’t been paying attention to the movie since the scene began, to focused on the way your tongue darts out to wet your lips, or how your hand twitches against the blanket. His hand moves a little lower, pulling you closer to him and you don’t even realise. Just sink into his side. Your eyes almost have no colour, his hand plays with the band of your shorts. He moves himself slowly, legs pressed against yours and your head turns lightly.
A small gasp you hope he didn’t hear as you snap your head back to the screen. Pretending you didn’t see the bulge in his jeans, that it didn’t cause your pussy to flicker and fill with slick. This time it’s your turn to move, and hope Leon doesn’t notice. Your hand settles on his thigh, close but not where he wants it. Of course, he’s noticed, in fact he slides down in the seat. Your hand resting over his cock from where it strains in the fabric, and you feel like you can’t breathe.
His hips rolled up into your hand with a low groan, and you palmed at him wanting to hear more. Were you really doing this? Letting your neighbour use your hand to get off? Yes, God yes. It was then that you noticed his own hand had slipped below your shorts and suddenly you felt embarrassed.
“No underwear, sweet girl?” The tips of your ears turned red as one of his fingers slipped between your wet lips, gathering slick before swirling at your clit. “How brave, maybe you were hoping this would happen?” Just like him, except he didn’t hope, he knew. Just like he planned.
He drew a moan out of you as your thighs spread to give him more access, your own hand shakily moving to undo his jeans so you could pull him out. His head fell back at the contact of your cool hand on his hot skin, it felt so much better than he ever could imagine. His hand dipped further down to tease at your hole as it clenched around nothing, smiling at the sweet noises you gave him. They sounded so much better in person then on the shitty mic quality of the camera. Gifting you his owns whines as your hand squeezed the base of his cock before moving up at a slow teasing pace.
Neither of you paying attention to the movie playing, your head falling back onto his shoulder, and he took this opportunity to lean forward and lick his tongue into your mouth. Your eyes closed and you happily let him, mouth opening to reciprocate the messy kisses he was giving you. Leon kissed you like a man starved, until there was spit dribbling down your chin and you were squirming against his hand. Grinding your hips down as your thighs clenched around his wrist, you whined into his mouth and pushed up against him, needing more.
Leon pulled away and you pouted, chasing his mouth before his hand stopped you. His thumb swiping the saliva on your bottom lip before pushing past into your mouth. You suck his thumb, tongue swirling around it in the same way he circles your clit. Your hips buck into his hand, eyes pleading at him. He presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, moving to press his ringers against the sweet spot in your cunt. “C’mon sweet girl, wont you come for me?”
And that’s all it takes for your back to arch, your legs to clench around his wrist as the building pleasure snaps and you gush against his hand. You feel it drip down your thighs and a wet spot grows on the sofa below you. Leon pulls his hand out, moving to lay you down “Is it okay if I?” You nod at him desperately, hands pulling at his shirt. “Fuck, you’re such a good girl, honey” He removes his jeans and under wear completely before pulling down your shorts.
Your mouth drops open at the sight of his cock slapping at his stomach, you had felt how big he was but you hadn’t seen it. “I don’t think you’ll fit, too big, Leon” He shakes his head, moving to kneel on the sofa, his hands hooking around your knees and pushing them up to your shoulders. Your hands clench at the blanket somewhat forgotten.
“It will fit, I’ll make it fit” He gave himself a few strokes before moving the tip between your dripping folds, bumping the clit, and making both of you moan “God baby, so hot” he groaned out as he pushed into you slowly, making you take him inch by inch. You whined as he stretched you out, hands moving to grip his arms. Leon’s movement stutters slightly at the feel of your nails digging into him, but he bottoms out and gives you a moment to adjust. “Told you, I’d make it fit. Feels good don’t it, pretty?”
Your eyes are closed, and you nod, “Yes! Feels so good, Lee” you tug his arms, hips rolling up and he gets the message. His own hips rut into you, he’s setting a face pace immediately and while he did want to take his time with you, he couldn’t wait. You both needed this, needed him buried deep inside you as he bullied his cock into you at a brutal pace. The blonde presses his body weight onto you, forcing your knees past your ears and his hips don’t stop.
One of his hands move your body, gently touching your breasts before stopping at your neck where it makes the prettiest necklace. He applies a slight pressure, enough to have you arching up and gasping as your eyes open to look up at him. And your legs shake at the sight of this man above you. He looks nothing short of an angel. Your cunt clenches around his cock as his hips snap into your thighs and the head bumps your cervix.
His other hand leaves a bruise of the fat of your thigh from the grip, he leans down to press another searing kiss to your mouth, and he keeps his pace up. The sound of his skin hitting yours fills the apartment, and you almost feel sorry for your other neighbours if it wasn’t for the pleasure clouding your mind. His tongue licks into your mouth, wet and heavy as you try to keep up with his pace but your legs shake and he grins into the kiss before he’s pulling away “What’s wrong honey? Gonna cum again already? Don’t be shy, sweetheart”.
Leons mouth travels from yours to your neck, leaving marks into your skin that match the one on your thigh, until he’s level with your tits. His eyes remain on you as your head falls back. The sensation of his tongue swirling at your nipple and the drag of his cock against your walls has your mind spinning. Words fall on your tongue, turning into whimpers as he suckles at your breasts. He gently nips before moving on the other one “Looked a lil lonely, better make it even” and he does. Your nothing but a shaky mess below him while he decorates your skin in reds. He has you pinned down as your hips buck up.
Then the hand from your thigh moves between your bodies, down to where he’s been grinding into you. His thumb finding your sensitive clit again, the feeling as you squeeze down onto him again and he moans around your breast. Leon starts to rut into you slower, causing you to be frustrated but he only looks up at you from where he mouths at your nipple with a raised eyebrow. He does one hard and fast thrust and your head is thrown back. He keeps this rhythm up, slow thrusts with one fast for a while until your squirming.
“leon, please, faster, need” He lets go of your tit with a pop, moving so he’s kneeling up right. His hand squeezes your neck once before both are placed on the back of your thighs. Suddenly you get the feeling you should have let him continue his pace. But your eyes are rolling back as you try to find something to grip, his hips piston into you ruthless pace. Skin slapping against skin. Your mind is blank, and Leon adores the looks on your face as he fucks you merciless.
He feels your legs tremble below his fingers, and he pushes you further back so he can watch as your pussy sucks him in, trying to keep his cock buried deep inside you. Spit drools down your chin, your eyes unfocused on anything as you stare at the ceiling, unable to think of anything but the way Leon fucks you. With a loud moan, you reach that peak again. Legs kicking as well as they can in this position “Oh fuck!” falls from Leons mouth as he continues grinding into you, his body falling onto yours as he follows quickly. His hot load filling you with thick ropes.
You both lay there for a moment before you feel Leon move, he sits back up on his haunches, phone in hand. And you whine “Just want some pictures of my pretty girl, they’re all for me don’t you worry” the idea almost has you wanting to go again, instead you look at him and move your hands to help hold your legs up. Leon’s eyes darken as he begins taking pictures. Some of him still plugging you up, but most of the way his seed spills out of you and a video (that you don’t realise he’s taken) of him pushing it back in.
When he’s done and the phones back on the floor, he leans down to press sweet kisses to your mouth, his hand soothing over your thighs and gently massaging your breasts. “Want me to help you to the bathroom, sweet girl?” The nod you gives him is slow, your head still syrupy as he picks you up bridal style, carefully carrying you to the bathroom.
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May I request Toji and Gojo with an s/o who's able to manipulate paper? Just picture her teaming up with Toji to rob someone by secretly stealing all their money.
Toji
Probably started dating them (and I use that word loosely here) because he found out about their paper manipulation technique and thought he’d come into a way to make quick cash.
But, he didn’t realize that most currencies aren’t actually made out of paper but instead a fiber or sometimes even cotton product blend. So that plan was out.
Still Toji sticks around with them for a while because he might need a contact with their cursed ability in the future, and he doesn’t want to make it suspicious that he just left after his questions about a bank heist were unsuccessful.
‘Sticking around’ turns into months, then years, as he actually become attached to them. Their smart, funny, hot. And although their ability doesn’t actively work on cash they always seem to know away to make money. So he’s pretty content to stay with them.
Gojo
Gojo thinks it’s a rather odd skill at first. So specific and so….weird to have control over an inanimate object. At least Mei Mei can control birds which have independent movement and stuff.
But after seeing their powers in action, having a thousand paper cranes come after you is way more terrifying than real birds. Also, death by paper cuts sounds horrible.
It’s also not just limited to the shape of paper, he’s found out. Sort of like Megumi’s shadow shikigami, they can call forth beasts from pages to attack or defend them. Yes, they are made of paper still, but they are incredibly sturdy. Their paper golem has been known to take down buildings.
On days off Gojo helps them rebuild their paper crane army. Sitting in their living room, folding cranes, is actually a very peaceful afternoon.
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On this day, 9 February 1995, the Mexican government cancelled the peace process with Zapatista rebels and invaded their Chiapas strongholds following the demand by an adviser to the US Chase Manhattan Bank that the government take action against them. Indigenous peoples in the area had risen up previous year and collectively taken control of their land and reorganised their economy in an equitable, directly democratic way. A secret Chase memo, which was leaked, stated: "While Chiapas, in our opinion, does not pose a fundamental threat to Mexican political stability, it is perceived to be so by many in the investment community. The government will need to eliminate the Zapatistas to demonstrate their effective control of the national territory and of security policy." The memo went on to say that the governing party should "consider carefully whether or not to allow opposition victories if fairly won at the ballot box." However, despite these efforts the Zapatista autonomous areas continue to this day. Today we are pleased to be able to make available a new collection of allegorical stories by Zapatista spokesperson Subcomandante Marcos (pictured). The stories infuse left and horizontal politics with an imaginative, literary, or poetic dimension, and include commentaries eliminating their historical, political and literary contexts: https://shop.workingclasshistory.com/products/zapatista-stories-for-dreaming-another-world-subcomandante-marcos https://www.facebook.com/workingclasshistory/photos/a.296224173896073/2205878542930617/?type=3
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asgoodeasgold · 3 months
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‼️BREAKING NEWS 💥NEW LEAD ROLE💥 for Matthew Goode in Netflix crime thriller series ‘Department Q’
It started filming in January. Directed by Scott Frank, the series is based on best-selling ‘Nordic noir’ novels by Danish author Jussi Adler-Olsen. 
The show centers around "brilliant but difficult" detective Carl Morck, wracked with guilt at a case gone wrong that left his partner paralysed and another policeman dead . He is sidelined into a new Department Q for cold cases but assembles a team of misfits and finds his A game again. The story is transposed to Edinburgh.
Frank Scott said: “Carl Morck is one of those classic detective antiheroes, funny and dark at the same time, that I can never get enough of. I think audiences will feel the same way.” (Herald)
Other cast members include Chloe Pirrie, Alexej Manvelov, Kelly MacDonald, and Leah Byrne.
Scott Frank is the lead creator. He is a sought-after scriptwriter and directed the Queen’s Gambit, Minority Report, Godless and The Lookout (with Matthew as Gary Spargo).
He will lead the team of writers including Chandni Lakhani (Black Mirror, Vigil), Stephen Greenhorn and Colette Kane.
This will be an eight-part series and will be produced by Sony-owned Left Bank Pictures, the company behind The Crown and Outlander.
Rob Bullock, Andy Harries and David Brown will be co-producing the series. (IMDB)
The book series has already been adapted into a film series in Denmark. The action will be transported from Copenhagen to Scotland for this new production.
📷 Photo credits - my edits from
Photo of Scott Frank by Axelle/Bauer-Griffin/FilmMagic
Photo of Jussi Adler-Olsen from his website
Photos of Matthew Goode by Philip Sinden (for Brummel, Sep 2017) and Uli Webber (for Style Italia, Feb 2017) via matthew-goode.net
Photo of Edinburgh "Jagged walkways" by Andrew B Harris
The Lookout promo still & poster (via matthew-goode.net)
Photos of Scott Frank & Matthew Goode at The Lookout premiere by Alexandra Wyman/WireImage/Miramax Film/Getty
All credits are on the pictures
Read more here ⬇️
More info
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rebeccathenaturalist · 6 months
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Prairie Days
Originally posted on my website at https://rebeccalexa.com/prairie-days/.
I’m in the middle of my fall peregrinations, currently staying with family in the Missouri Ozarks as my base of operations while I do some exploring of the area, and get up to my preferred flavor of trouble. Which, of course, includes volunteering.
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Ozark Rivers Audubon Nature Center
I actually got to do a little back home at Willapa National Wildlife Refuge right before I left town. They’re doing some coast meadow habitat restoration at the South Bay Unit, and so a whole pile of us showed up Wednesday before last to spend a few hours digging up invasive plants cropping up in some patches that had been intentionally planted with natives like early blue violet (Viola adunca), yarrow (Achillea millefolium), and pearly everlasting (Anaphalis margaritacea). I confess I didn’t get any pictures because I was A) pretty preoccupied with the upcoming trip, and B) nothing makes me zone out more than sitting with a trowel digging up weeds for hours at a time. By the time I get back the “nice” weather (aka warm and sunny) will likely be done for the year, but I’m hoping for more opportunities to get back out there.
But that certainly wasn’t the end of my habitat restoration efforts for the month.
For the past couple of years, every time I come into Rolla, MO I stop at the Ozark Rivers Audubon Nature Center to see if they have any upcoming stewardship activities. They’ve done a beautiful job of restoring the remnant tallgrass prairie and oak savanna there and protecting the oak-hickory forest and that surrounds them, but invasive plants being what they are there are always more to be removed as the seed bank keeps new generations popping up.
This time around we were out in the prairie/savanna area with a bunch of folks from the officer training program down at Ft. Leonard Wood just down the highway. The objective was to remove as much of the autumn olive (Elaeagnus umbellata) as possible; this invasive shrub with a silvery underside to its green leaves can quickly shade out native prairie plants, and doesn’t offer local wildlife nearly as much food. Prescribed burns help knock it back, but some more resilient specimens manage to resprout, and of course there’s that pernicious seed bank in the soil.
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Autumn olive
Most of these were much too large to simply pull up, so the most effective way to get rid of them was to go out in teams of two. One person uses loppers to cut the plant down as close to the ground as possible, and the other immediately dabs herbicide on the fresh stump, which then kills the roots and keeps the plant from regenerating. It’s a minimal use of the product when compared to spraying wide areas of foliage, and only treating the stump with a quick, targeted dab minimizes the chance of accidentally affecting surrounding native species. And since it doesn’t cause disturbance to the soil like digging would it’s less likely to stir up seeds that would then be even more likely to sprout.
I know herbicides are super controversial–they’re not my favorite thing either. But as I wrote in my chapbook Habitat Restoration: What It Is, Why It’s Important, and How to Get Started, judicious and careful use in habitat restoration is one of the few times I’m okay with it, and it’s about the only way to reliably get rid of some invasive plants permanently. Given that invasive species removal is one of THE best ways to make an ecosystem more resilient in the face of climate change, habitat restoration has to be a big priority now and going forward. While I am not ignorant of the environmental impact of routine overuse of herbicides in agriculture and yards alike, the targeted use of them in habitat restoration is definitely a “lesser of two evils” situation that deserves more nuance.
While autumn olive was the main target, we also managed to remove a few other pernicious invasives. Callery pear (Pyrus calleryana) was easy to spot with its leaves still bright green amid the various browns, golds, and reds of native vegetation. We also got rid of some privet (Ligustrum spp.), and a little Japanese honeysuckle (Lonicera japonica) winding its way through the meadow. While there’s still plenty to go around for the next volunteer crew, we did make a big dent in that area.
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New England aster
It wasn’t just the invasive species in evidence, though; there were plenty of native plants to enjoy along the way. One of the most prominent was field goldenrod (Solidago nemoralis nemoralis), and while some had gone to seed others still had a touch of yellow. There was a splash of purple here and there from New England aster (Symphyotrichum novae-angliae), and delicate white snakeroot (Ageratina altissima) edged the treeline. Amid inland oats (Chasmanthium latifolium) and other native grasses, young northern red oaks (Quercus rubra) and white oak (Quercus alba) added splashes of scarlet. It was incredibly peaceful to be immersed in these beautiful species and more.
At a time when it’s all too easy to feel overwhelmed by the enormity of environmental devastation on multiple fronts, there is something empowering about getting my hands in the dirt, so to speak. No, removing some invasive shrubs from one remnant prairie won’t save the whole world. But it helps that ecosystem become more resilient, and gives the native species there a better chance. It also makes that place a better illustration of the grasslands that were much more common in this portion of the Midwest, and is an important reminder that it wasn’t always cornfields and cattle pastures.
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Yarrow
On a microcosmic level, I just feel better after spending a few hours doing a little something good in the world. I felt better walking away knowing that native plants like this young yarrow I found beneath an autumn olive we removed will be more likely to thrive in the years ahead. I’ve absorbed some of the beneficial effects of being outside, too, and gotten a good bit of exercise at my own pace. And it’s good social time, too, in a setting that feels pretty darn comfortable, and we’re all united by a common interest in that moment. This is likely my last outdoor volunteer time of the year, but it was a great note to wrap things up on.
Did you enjoy this post? Consider taking one of my online foraging and natural history classes or hiring me for a guided nature tour, checking out my other articles, or picking up a paperback or ebook I’ve written! You can even buy me a coffee here!
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brian-in-finance · 1 year
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‘Outlander’ Season 7 Gets Split in Half, 8-Episode Part 1 Premieres in June
The second half of the time-traveling drama’s penultimate season will premiere in 2024
“Outlander” Season 7 will resume Claire (Caitríona Balfe) and Jamie’s (Sam Heughan) sprawling and globe-trotting love story in June on Starz, the network announced Thursday while also revealing the first images from the new season.
The penultimate season of the time-traveling drama will debut June 16 with the first eight episodes of its extended 16-episode season, with the second half of the two-part season set to premiere in 2024.
After previously announcing the drama would come to a close after Season 8, Starz has already renewed the series for an eighth and final season. “Outlander” fans are in no danger of letting go of the beloved characters, however, as the network has also greenlit a prequel series, titled “Outlander: Blood of My Blood,” which will follow Jamie Fraser’s parents.
Balfe and Heughan reprise their roles as Claire and Jamie, respectively, as Sophie Skelton returns as Brianna MacKenzie alongside Richard Rankin as Roger MacKenzie, John Bell as Young Ian, David Berry as Lord John Grey, Caitlin O’Ryan as Lizzie Beardsley and Paul Gorman as Josiah and Keziah Beardsley.
Previously announced new ensemble members include Charles Vandervaart as William Ransom, Izzy Meikle-Small as Rachel Hunter and Joey Phillips as Denzell Hunter.
In addition to starring in the historical fiction series, Balfe and Heughan executive produce alongside Matthew B. Roberts, Ronald D. Moore, Maril Davis, Toni Graphia, Luke Schelhaas, Andy Harries, Jim Kohlberg. The series is produced by Tall Ship Productions, Left Bank Pictures and Story Mining & Supply Company, in association with Sony Pictures Television.
“Outlander” Season 7 premieres Friday, June 16 at 8:00 p.m. ET/PT on Starz, with the season launching June 16 at 12:00 a.m. ET on the Starz app and all Starz streaming and VOD platforms. New episodes of the series will air weekly on Starz and will be available to stream weekly at midnight on Fridays on the Starz app as well as all Starz streaming and VOD platforms.
Check out the first “Outlander” Season 7 images below.
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Starz
The Wrap
Remember… I don't care if Monday's blue, Tuesday's grey and Wednesday too. Thursday, I don't care about you. It's Friday, I'm in love. — The Cure
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fatehbaz · 1 year
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We must understand the journey [...]. [T]he kings and queens of Europe [...] said that those Black or Brown or Indigenous [...], they could be exploited. [...] In the case of the UK, [...] [i]t was the profits of slavery, slave products which built the universities, that financed the inventions, the canals, the banks like Barclays Bank, the Bank of England [...] to send wealth back to the North. [...]. So [...] what it does is it creates the world  as we know it, and then [...] the anti-colonial struggles of the forties, fifties and sixties begin to challenge it. [...] So no longer did you need guns and rifles and gunboats. You could control economies by the power of [...] trade rules [...]. And we see that today with unsustainable debt repayments, [...] corporations taking profits out of the Global South and bringing it back to the banks and corporations in the Global North. So in reality, this logic of racialized capitalism, colonialism, imperialism, is still apparent today. And it's the same logic. [...] [T]here has been an attempt, and it's been largely led by international institutions such as the World Bank and the IMF, to create a narrative that over the last 30, 40 years, that somehow because of development or globalization, we've seen a reduction in poverty and inequality in the Global South. This is the classic trickle-down.  [...]
It's the fact that this is all legal. This is legally done.
We've created both a global tax system, a global trade system, and then a punitive system managed by institutions like the IMF and the World Bank and the WTO, which punishes countries if they challenge that logic, and if they, for example, decide to prioritize their own people.   [...]
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So in Pakistan, as we know, 33 million people have been displaced by a climate flood -- when they are responsible for less than 1% of global emissions. [...] But Pakistan, for every 100 that the Government raises in tax revenue, it pays 83 of those [...] back out in debt repayments.
And what you've seen increasingly is country after country being trapped in this cycle of needing to beg for more debt-creating loans to pay the last debt-creating loans, and each of those loans coming with conditions.
Recently, Sri Lanka was unable to pay its debt. There have been huge protests on the streets of Sri Lanka, by movements, as people were unable to afford food, even kerosene to cook with [...]. People were unable to get to the hospital. The government was telling people to eat less, not to eat three meals a day. [There was] a huge uprising of people and the government that was in power fled; the new government, which was imposed in Sri Lanka, went to the IMF and said, we want to negotiate restructuring our loan, because once you default on your loan, the way our economic system is set up, you will be punished. Because every bank, every corporation, wants their debt repayments. So people are forced to go back to the IMF.
And the IMF told Sri Lanka, we will give you another loan, if you do three things: you cut your public expenditure -- so the very money that you need on public services -- second, you weaken your labor laws -- [they] don't want unions being strong in [Sri Lanka] -- and thirdly, you have to privatize what's left of your utility. Which were operating for the interests of the Sri Lankan people. They want them now to be put onto the open market and, like many countries in the Global South, the main drivers of our economy, are actually not in the hands of either our governments or our peoples, they are still controlled by the same Western multinationals.
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Now, if we had a picture, if we could show two maps, we could show a map  of the colonial world and the influence of the different countries of Europe on the different parts of the world, and the commodities that were drawn from those countries, to feed back to supply chains, to feed consumption and the industrial processes in the Global North.
But if you did the same map right now, you'd see the exact same commodities flowing from the Global South to the Global North, because countries were forced to and [told,] you will provide and produce this commodity because we want it, not because it's needed by your people [...]. It’s because you will grow cotton, you will grow coffee, you’ll export oil [...].
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All text above are words of Asad Rehman. As interviewed by Kamea Chayne. Transcript published as “Asad Rehman: The End of Imperialism in a Radical Green New Deal (Ep378).” An episode of the podcast Green Dreamer. 25 October 2022. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]
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fibula-rasa · 8 months
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Lost, but Not Forgotten: The Madness of Youth (1923)
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Direction: Jerome Storm
Scenario: Joseph Franklin Poland
Original Story: George F. Worts
Camera: Joseph August
Studio: First National Fox (production) & (distribution)
Performers: John Gilbert, Billie Dove, Wilton Taylor, George K. Arthur, Ruth Boyd, Julanne Johnston, Donald Hatswell, Luke Lucas, Dorothy Manners (potentially miscredited as Louise/The Dancer)
Premiere: 8 April 1923
Status: presumed entirely lost
Length: 4,719 feet, or roughly 51 minutes.
Synopsis (synthesized from magazine summaries of the plot)
A sophisticated, young gentleman, Jaca Javalie (Gilbert), is travelling on a cross-country train to California. As Javalie traverses the smoking car, it’s apparent he’s being tailed by a detective. However, somewhere between the smoker and the pullman, the detective loses the trail—as if Javalie had disappeared into thin air. 
Later, out from the ditch beside the railroad, Javalie emerges—dressed now in tatters, a bindle stick slung over his shoulder. Javalie makes his way on foot to the California mansion of the Banning family. 
Within the estate, the patriarch, Theodore P. Banning (Taylor), has built a private vault to secure his millions after being burned by bank failures in the past. 
Banning’s children, Ted (Arthur) and Nanette, a.k.a. Nan (Dove), are now young adults and, though he loves them, he knows they’ve been spoiled rotten. Ted is selfish and unfeeling. He had brought home from France a wife, Jeanne (Boyd), but has since made her life miserable. Nan spends every night out gallivanting with the caddish mooch, Pete Reynolds (Hatswell), currently staying at the Banning’s as a guest.
Banning found comfort only in spiritualism—often communing from beyond the grave with his wife.
Javalie makes his entrance in the middle of another family quarrel. He presents himself to Banning, Sr. as a man with mystical powers, which he learned in India. He claims that has come to the Banning home after visions of their familial strife, sure that he can bring them peace. Banning agrees to let Javalie stay a while. Something about Javalie’s manner has a quick effect on the younger Bannings, who begin acting with a bit more reverence and grace. At dinner, Javalie lays his mysticism spiel on a receptive audience, save for the guest, Reynolds. 
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George K. Arthur, John Gilbert, Billie Dove, Ruth Boyd, and Wilton Taylor in The Madness of Youth from Motion Picture Classic, June 1923
Later, the Bannings throw a lavish masquerade ball with the theme “winter frolic.” At the ball, Nan gets Javalie alone and says she doubts his supernatural gifts. He assures her he isn’t trying to fool her, and she takes that as flirting. The gentleman thief Javalie is softening. 
Next, Jeanne approaches Javalie and pleads with him to save her husband from the temptation of a dancer hired for the ball, who has a reputation as a vampire.
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Ruth Boyd, George K. Arthur, John Gilbert, and Julanne Johnston in The Madness of Youth from Motion Picture Classic, June 1923
Javalie and Nan take a walk through the garden and she teasingly goads him into an embrace. Pleased with her machinations, Nan flutters away. 
Now left alone in the garden, Javalie is greeted by the dancer. Under her mask is a familiar face, Louise (Johnston), Javalie’s ex-girlfriend. Louise threatens to expose him to the Bannings. Javalie reveals that he’s been planning to rob the Banning vault for three years. Louise agrees to publicly play-act that Javalie has saved her soul in exchange for a cut of the loot and Javalie’s hand in marriage. Javalie preaches to the crowd of attendees and, on cue, Louise repents. Jeanne and Ted reconcile.
After the party, Javalie finds Banning alone in his library. Javalie hypnotizes Banning and gets him to reveal the location of and combination for the vault. The two men were not alone however: Reynolds had been eavesdropping. Reynolds confronts Javalie and extorts him.
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John Gilbert and Wilton Taylor in The Madness of Youth from Motion Picture Classic, June 1923
The next day, inspired by Javalie’s preaching, Ted and Jeanne decide to start again on their own. Banning happily offers to build them a home. Javalie is shaken by a note from Louise saying that his preaching worked better than expected and she did, in fact, feel reformed and was off to make amends with her family.
Disturbed by Louise’s actions, Javalie defiantly steels himself and heads to the vault, combination in hand. However, when Javalie reaches the vault door, he’s overwhelmed and faints. When he comes to, Javalie is surrounded by the Bannings. Ted plans to call the police. Nan holds Javalie close and begs for mercy through tears, claiming that Javalie must have had a change of heart just as they all had. Jeanne backs her up. Seeing Nan and Javalie together, Banning says he understands and the police are not called.
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John Gilbert, Billie Dove, and Wilton Taylor in The Madness of Youth from Motion Picture Classic, June 1923
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Points of Interest:
John Gilbert appeared in an astounding 90 silent films in his career from bit roles to starring roles and he even dabbled in writing and directing. While Gilbert had already worked on over 60 films by the time Madness of Youth came around, he was newly minted as a star just two years prior when he signed with Fox Film Corp. Gilbert would truly break out as a star when he signed with Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer in 1924. Of those 90 silent films, 58 are considered lost films, which means that only 35% of Gilbert’s film work is known to survive today.
Madness of Youth is one of many films believed to be lost after the 1937 Fox vault fire. In the summer of 1937 at the Fox vault in Little Ferry, NJ a fire broke out that destroyed a majority of films produced by Fox before 1932 as well as films from other studios, most notably Educational Pictures. The fire also killed a child in a neighboring building. All in one night, thousands of films were lost, leaving a gaping hole in our film heritage.
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from Motion Picture News, 7 April 1923 and Exhibitors Trade Review, 28 April 1923
☕ Buy me a coffee! ☕
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Transcribed Sources & Annotations over on the WMM Blog!
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studyhaus · 1 year
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5 Minutes, 5 Words - #32
ੈ✩‧₊˚
Dearth (n.) - a scarcity or lack of something.
Even with millions of dollars in her bank account, Solange felt lonely from the dearth of friendship in her life.
Nonplussed (adj.) - so surprised and confused that one is unsure how to react.
The theft of nearly half the artifacts in Uhoville Museum left the town feeling nonplussed.
Saturnine (adj.) - (of a person or their manner) gloomy.
As a child, Sabrina was saturnine and reclusive. It was not necessarily a bad thing though - she was surrounded by bad influences.
Asperity (n.) - harshness of tone or manner.
Aparna's asperity towards Jillian was valid - her girlfriend had serially cheated on her secretly while treating her with kind words and expensive gifts.
Levee (n.) - an embankment built to prevent the overflow of a river.
The village was spared from the disastrous flood because of the efficiently built levee on both sides of the river flowing through it.
ੈ✩‧₊˚
Definitions from: Oxford Languages. Sentences are fictitious.
Pictures from: Wikipedia pages "Saturn" and "Levee".
Follow @studyhaus for more vocabulary + study + productivity content!
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On this day, 9 February 1995, the Mexican government cancelled the peace process with Zapatista rebels and invaded their Chiapas strongholds following the demand by an adviser to the US Chase Manhattan Bank that the government take action against them. Indigenous peoples in the area had risen up previous year and collectively taken control of their land and reorganised their economy in an equitable, directly democratic way. A secret Chase memo, which was leaked, stated: "While Chiapas, in our opinion, does not pose a fundamental threat to Mexican political stability, it is perceived to be so by many in the investment community. The government will need to eliminate the Zapatistas to demonstrate their effective control of the national territory and of security policy." The memo went on to say that the governing party should "consider carefully whether or not to allow opposition victories if fairly won at the ballot box." However, despite these efforts the Zapatista autonomous areas continue to this day. Today we are pleased to be able to make available a new collection of allegorical stories by Zapatista spokesperson Subcomandante Marcos (pictured). The stories infuse left and horizontal politics with an imaginative, literary, or poetic dimension, and include commentaries eliminating their historical, political and literary contexts: https://shop.workingclasshistory.com/products/zapatista-stories-for-dreaming-another-world-subcomandante-marcos https://www.facebook.com/workingclasshistory/photos/a.296224173896073/2205878582930613/?type=3
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Three BAFTA TV Craft nominations for 'The Essex Serpent'
Costume Design Sponsored by Screenskills High-End Television Skills Fund Amy Roberts – “The Crown” – Left Bank Pictures, Sony Pictures Television / Netflix Becky Sloan, Joe Pelling – “Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared” – Blink Industries / All 4 Jane Petrie – “The Essex Serpent” – See-Saw Films / Apple TV+ Phoebe de Gaye – “The English” – Drama Republic, Eight Rooks / BBC Two
Production Design Sponsored by Microsoft Alice Normington – “The Essex Serpent” – See-Saw Productions/ Apple TV+ Becky Sloan, Joe Pelling – “Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared” – Blink Industries / All 4 Chris Roope – “The English” – Drama Republic, Eight Rooks / BBC Two Kave Quinn, Tim Blake, Stella Fox, Penny Crawford, Emily Norris – “Pistol” – FX, wiip / Disney+
Titles & Graphic Identity Balázs Simon, BBC Creative, Gas Music – “Beijing 2022 Winter Olympics” – BBC Sport, Blink Ink, Gas Music / BBC Two Peter Anderson Studio – “Bad Sisters” – Merman, Abc Signature/ Apple TV+ Tom Hingston, Markus Lehtonen, Sam Norris – “Life After Life” – House Productions / BBC One Yu+Co – “The Essex Serpent” – See-Saw Productions/ Apple TV+
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snoppy · 1 year
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why is everything so ugly: the curse of modernism / everyone is beautiful and no one is horny / the empty promises of marie kondo and the craze for minimalism
ID given below readmore
[Image ID: five screengrabs of a youtube video by Mina Le, followed by four screenshots of two articles.
in the video Mina is sitting on a couch with a mic in her hand talking to the camera. she says, “Minimal traits, from Apple products to mid-century modern IKEA furniture. Millennials, the current apartment-renting, house-buying market, clearly have aligned themselves with minimalism, maybe in their plight to be more environmentally cautious, or at least to seem like it, or to appear spiritually superior in a pseudo-Buddhist kind of way, but that's another topic. But in general, we like to buy a house that's new, because newness implies that things aren't broken.”
the first two article screenshots are of white text against a black background. it reads, “The house looks real, too. There are toys and magazines scattered around the floor. There are cardboard boxes waiting to be unpacked since the recent move. Framed pictures rest against the wall; the parents haven’t gotten around to mounting them yet. The kitchen counters are cluttered and mealtimes are rambunctious and sloppy, as one expects in a house with three children. They’re building a pool in the backyard, but not for appearances: it’s a place for the kids to swim, for the parents to throw parties, and for the father to reacquaint himself with his love of diving.
At the time, this house represented an aspirational ideal of American affluence.
In her blog McMansion Hell, Kate Wagner examines precisely why these widely-hated 5000-square foot housing bubble behemoths are so awful. Over and over again, she reiterates the point that McMansions are not built to be homes; they’re built to be short-term investments.
Kate writes, “The inside of McMansions are designed in order to cram the most ‘features’ inside for the lowest costs.” These features exist to increase the house’s resale value, not to make it a good place to live. No thought is given to the labor needed to clean and maintain these spaces. The master bathroom includes intricate stone surfaces that can only be scrubbed with a toothbrush; the cathedral ceilings in the living room raise the heating and cooling costs to an exorbitant sum; the chandelier in the grand entryway dangles so high that no one can replace the bulbs in it, even with a stepladder.”
the next article is black text against a white background. it reads, “Little of this feels true today. The percentage of workers who are freelance instead of salaried grows each year. House prices are prohibitive in any place with a strong labour market. Economic inequality is more severe than ever in the modern era. To make matters even worse, the greatest wealth now comes from the accumulation of invisible capital, not physical stuff: startup equity, stock shares and offshore bank accounts opened to avoid taxes. As the French economist Thomas Piketty points out, these immaterial possessions grow in value much faster than salaries do. That is, if you are lucky enough to have a salary in the first place. Meanwhile, crisis follows crisis and mobility now feels safer than being static, another reason that owning less looks more and more attractive.
Apple devices have gradually simplified in appearance over time under designer Jony Ive, who joined the company in 1992, which is why they are so synonymous with minimalism. By 2002, the Apple desktop computer had evolved into a thin, flat screen mounted on an arm connected to a rounded base. Then, into the 2010s, the screen flattened even more and the base vanished until all that was left were two intersecting lines, one with a right angle for the base and another, straight, for the screen. It sometimes seems, as our machines become infinitely thinner and wider, that we will eventually control them by thought alone, because touch would be too dirty, too analogue.”
/end ID]
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brian-in-finance · 1 year
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Video 📹 from Twitter
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It’s the end of an era and the beginning of a new one.
Starz confirmed Outlander will return for an eighth and final season consisting of 10 episodes to follow the hit period drama’s upcoming extended 16-episode Season 7 premiering this summer. And while fans will certainly be disappointed that Claire (Caitríona Balfe) and Jamie (Sam Heughan) Fraser’s adventures across time and space will be ending, the show’s prequel series Blood Of My Blood has been greenlighted at Starz and will consist of 10 episodes.
“Outlander: Blood of My Blood is, at its heart, a love story. It will explore what lengths a person will go to find love in a time when love is considered a luxury, and when marriages are made strategically, often for political or financial gain,” says Matthew B. Roberts, showrunner and executive producer. He continues, “the title is a nod to Jamie Fraser’s marriage vow to Claire and there will be several names and faces that ‘Outlander’ fans will know and recognize. Jamie and Claire’s TV story may be coming to an end with season eight, but Diana is continuing on with their literary journey in her wonderful book series and is working diligently on book ten. With Jamie and Claire, and now Brian and Ellen, there is still so much more to come in the ‘Outlander’ universe, and we cannot wait to continue sharing these stories with our dedicated fans.”
“For nearly a decade Outlander has won the hearts of audiences worldwide and we’re pleased to bring Claire and Jamie’s epic love story to a proper conclusion,” said Kathryn Busby, President, Original Programming for Starz. “But before we close this chapter there is plenty of their passionate story to tell over the course of 26 new episodes and even more to explore of this dynamic world and its origin story. We’re thrilled to continue to partner with Matthew, Maril, and Ronald and can’t wait to see where their alluring storytelling takes us next.”
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News of the new project began buzzing in summer 2021, with the network confirming it was in development last August. Based on Diana Gabaldon’s novel, Blood of My Blood will dive into the love story of Jamie’s parents, Ellen MacKenzie and Brian Fraser.
Roberts, who is also the showrunner and executive producer of the flagship series, will serve as showrunner and executive producer. Maril Davis will also executive produce the prequel with Moore, who developed Outlander for TV, under their production banner Tall Ship Productions. Story Mining & Supply Company will also EP with Gabaldon, whose novels inspired the franchise, serving as a consulting producer.
Roberts, Moore, Davis, Toni Graphia, Luke Schelhaas, Andy Harries, Jim Kohlberg, Balfe, and Heughan serve as executive producers on Outlander, which is produced by Tall Ship Productions, Left Bank Pictures, and Story Mining & Supply Company, in association with Sony Pictures Television.
Blood of My Blood will be produced by Sony Pictures Television. Executive Vice President of Original Programming, Karen Bailey will oversee the prequel on behalf of Starz.
Deadline
Remember when we first heard of the last?
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ambiguouspuzuma · 11 months
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Collateral damage
It was all assured, Gagne had told him. They would meet in a public place, a burger joint, to avoid any risk of violence. It would be perfectly safe. He had even agreed to attend the meeting himself, as mediator, having set the whole thing up. In his view, a successful deal was in everybody's interest - they just needed to hash out the details over a handful of fries.
At first, it seemed to go that way. The client, who had given his name as Castelli, had seemed reticent to speak about his own background, but perfectly forthcoming when it came to the job. Rahim appreciated that. He had to know exactly what he was getting into, and too many people tried to hire him without giving him the whole story, or perhaps not knowing it themselves.
"So, can you do it?" Gagne turned to Rahim, once he'd asked enough questions of his own. Castelli had been able to give a full answer to each, which was comforting, although a little unnerving. The guy knew more than anyone he'd worked with before. Perhaps too much.
"Sure," Rahim replied, finishing his soda with a satisfying slurp. "I could, if I wanted to. But I don't like working with people I don't know - no offence, of course. But how can I trust he won't screw me over once the job is done?"
Castelli seemed to have been anticipating this question as well, and slid a brown parcel across the table. Rahim prised it from the sticky surface, where the packaging paper was already starting to cling, and began unwrapping its contents - until he caught sight of the gun. It was in a plastic wallet, and also the subject of a set of digital photographs beside it. The showed Castelli holding the weapon, and shooting a young man dead.
"For your security," he said.
"If you go down, he goes down," Gagne explained. "I can keep this somewhere safe, and you can hand it to the police if he ever double-crosses you - not that he would, but just for your peace of mind. Mutually assured destruction, you see? Or, as a bank would call it: collateral."
-
"It was all a lie," Rahim told Gagne, having arranged to meet him three days hence. They were sitting in a park, watching the rats and squirrels forage for food beneath a broad elm tree, and wondering if the two rodents were so different after all.
"What?"
"He's an actor."
"What?" Gagne repeated the question, this time hoping for a more complete answer.
"The guy in the pictures. The one Castelli shot."
"So what?" He was relaxed, as always. Rahim had worked with him on many jobs, and he never seemed to break a sweat, no matter what the stakes. The man seemed to soak up stress like a sponge, or one of those ultra-absorbent brands of kitchen towel. It was one of the most infuriating things about him. "Maybe he didn't like his interpretation of Hamlet."
"No, I mean that he didn't really die. I just saw him in a production of Chicago. It was staged."
"The production, or the murder?"
"The murder. Both. They must have faked the whole thing, with whatever they use for fake blood - dyed corn syrup?"
"Tomato ketchup, for all I know," Gagne replied, still seemingly unperturbed. "But why?"
"It can only mean he does mean to screw me. He'll send me down, and then when we release these photographs, the actor will just turn up and confirm that was for a screen test they did, maybe even accuse me or stealing them. I can't wait for that to happen. I'm going to have to screw him first."
"With what?" he asked. "If the kompromat is fake, what have you got left over him?"
"With a screwdriver, of course." Rahim withdrew the plastic bag from his coat pocket. "I'm pretty sure this isn't a prop. Castelli may not have used it, but I still can."
"Steady," Gagne counselled him. "We were seen together. You, me, and him. That was why we met in public. If you go after him, it could be traced back to you. It could bring this whole thing down."
"Not Castelli. I'll do the actor, now I know where to find him."
"But why? You're assuming he's complicit, but I doubt he even knows about this scheme, or anything about us. Castelli probably hired him for a fake role. He's a civilian."
"No, this isn't revenge." Rahim studied the photo. "This is the scheme, now. I'm going to recreate these wounds, for real this time. Then, when they find the body, I'll have the evidence condemning Castelli. The collateral will work as promised."
"You'd kill an innocent man for this?"
"Castelli signed his death warrant," Rahim replied. "Call that collateral damage."
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"It was all a trap?"
"That's right," Gagne told him, expressing sympathy through the glass. "They'd installed cameras around the actor's house, as if they knew you'd do this, or wanted a back-up just in case. The prosecutor is going to have an easy case, between those pictures and the fingerprints."
"I wore gloves," Rahim said, then remembered where they were. Did the cops bug the holding cells? "I mean, if I was there, I wouldn't have been so stupid."
"Not on the gun. On the soda cup."
"From the burger joint," he realised, sitting back. "He was lying to us the entire time. Do you think he even wanted this job done, or was I always the target here?"
"He said the gun was for your security," Gagne noted. "Perhaps this is what he meant. He must have known you had tickets for Chicago that week. It's a strange coincidence, otherwise, no? That he shows you the pictures a couple of days before you're due to see the subject? That he chooses that actor to hire?"
"Right." Rahim couldn't help but agree. From the first mention to Castelli's name, he had been a fly caught in a web, and every effort to escape had only trapped him even more. "The kompromat worked exactly as he'd planned. They just hadn't taken the real pictures yet."
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