I would just like to take a moment to point out just a few of the reasons why Miss Phryne Fisher is one of the most flawlessly fabulous detectives (nay, characters) ever to inhabit the land of fiction:
1. Just look at her. Just look at those photos. Look at her hair. Look at her clothes. Look her everything. She’s fucking flawless.
2. She lives in the 1920s. ‘nuff said.
3. She carries a gold and pearl revolver. And she will point it fearlessly at any man (or woman) who deserves a gun in the face.
4. If a man knocks a pile of books on top of her, she will chase him onto the roof, throw a book to disarm him, then stab him in the shoulder with the dagger hidden in her garter.
5. Did I mention she has a garter dagger?
6. When she’s not solving everything from mysterious ghosts to ten year old murders, she is also an amateur pilot in her spare time.
7. She was a nurse in WWI and spent years around the world after the war.
8. She is smart, fearless, spirited, and uses her naturally friendly nature to get to know and learn about people in order to work out who committed the crime.
9. She brands herself a detective to solve crimes for the fun of it but she also genuinely wants to help people; a good number of her cases involve friends, who she refuses to allow to pay her a dime. And when people need a home or a job she has a habit of giving it to them, hiring a maid that got fired by a friend on her first case and adopting an orphan girl on another.
10. Basically just what isn’t fucking flawless about a private detective in 1920s Melbourne who loves life, love, jazz, and concealed weapons.
Basically just watch this show. Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries. Fucking flawless television.
we thought a bill had been deferred but apparently it wasn’t and instead if telling us the deferrment was rejected, they simply sent us a late notice?????
so yeah, we can’t afford christmas gifts or my medicine now so that’s great. if anyone can help out, i’d appreciate it, I’m honestly just so upset and frustrated I’m gonna go cry for a while.
paypal is firstname.lastname@example.org if anyone wants to donate. if you can’t donate, a signal boost is appreciated.
thank you, just for reading ;u;
an important conclusion reached by chloe and i today while watching henry iv pt. 1:
we think of shakespeare as writing in a Dignified Manner up in his room with a quill and looking very serious and occasionally getting writer’s block and staring dramatically out the window as he pens kingly speeches
but it is probably likely that a good 50% of the gorier ones were written in a tavern with kit & ben looking over his shoulder going “oh my god oh my god bill put him in a pie OH MY GOD NOW MAKE HER EAT THE PIE, oh my god ‘OUT YOU MAD-HEADED APE’ that’s fucking HILARIOUS, do a dick joke next, somebody order another beer”
i used to be able to handle the Smooth and Elegant characterization of draco malfoy and have enjoyed on some level fic with this characterization but i can’t even enjoy it anymore, i just CAN’T, draco malfoy THINKS he is smooth and elegant but he is ACTUALLY a completely ridiculous and often totally incompetent human being who put an extraordinary amount of effort into a “potter stinks” campaign, spent a lot of time third year dramatically pretending to faint in front of an audience in the great hall, and got mauled by a hippogriff because he literally couldn’t hold off insulting the first breathing thing around for one minute of his life, an inability that also resulted in losing quidditch and getting the shit kicked out of him more than once because the child cannot fight and “talk shit get hit” is a foreign concept 2 him
can we picture him, bud, and croy making ~grotesque faces at harry across the entire great hall when rita skeeter’s article comes out before the third task, can u reconcile this with Elegant, Graceful, Sophisticated draco malfoy turning his nose up at, like, elements of interior design
you are BUYING INTO HIS GAME don’t buy into this trash child’s game
This specifically refers to a hand striking the side of a person’s face, tells quite a different story when placed in it’s proper historical context. In Jesus’s time, striking someone of a lower class ( a servant) with the back of the hand was used to assert authority and dominance. If the persecuted person “turned the other cheek,” the discipliner was faced with a dilemma. The left hand was used for unclean purposes, so a back-hand strike on the opposite cheek would not be performed. Another alternative would be a slap with the open hand as a challenge or to punch the person, but this was seen as a statement of equality. Thus, by turning the other cheek the persecuted was in effect putting an end to the behavior or if the slapping continued the person would lawfully be deemed equal and have to be released as a servant/slave.
THAT makes a lot more sense, now, thank you.
So Jesus is advocating a nonviolent psychological warfare tactic exploiting social norms re: dominance & perceived superiority.
I like Jesus an awful lot.
I have a lot of feelings about androids experiencing love toward humans
Everything else comes so easily and logically to them, everything is numbers and facts and things that can be explained. And then suddenly this flood of emotion that can’t be put into words or reasoned away and for once they can’t understand something and don’t know what to do
Is this a programming error? Are they broken? Are their processors glitching? They don’t know. They just know that they want to spend a lot of time with this human and love seeing them happy and just this once they cannot for the life of them give a cut-and-paste logical reason as to why
Each time I’m asked to tell about myself, I find myself starting the same way: “My name is Becca and I’m nineteen..”
but what I’d really like to say is:
“My name means island of the ships but once
I found a translation that said I’m a burning shipwreck-
not a burning ship but a ship that has caught fire
after the wreckage and well, I’d say that’s more fitting.”
I’ve learned that people don’t have time for about me’s.
They need two things: a name and an indication you’re someone special.
The doctors, they want facts not details.
“I broke my leg when I was three, it’s a funny story actually-“
The right or the left?
The teachers, they want interests, hobbies.
You’re sad, yes, but what do you like to do?
The adults are a spew of questions.
What school do you go to? What classes are you taking?
What do you plan on becoming? Got a boyfriend?
People my own age are the worst.
“I’m planning on an English degree with a concentration in creative writing.”
Yeah, aren’t we all. So how many times have you, you know,
I’m pulled apart, my interests travelling highway 2
my goals at a stop light at traffic hour,
my medical history on a billboard for the world to see.
But what about me?
Where’s the chance to say,
“I hang on to fistfuls of poetry like loose change in my pockets,
and I keep waiting for the day that the world turns upside down
so I can swim with the stars.
I’m not afraid of darkness, it’s a loneliness I can empathize with it.
It’s the blackholes like cigarette burns inside of me that get troublesome.
I walk through graveyards and read the dashes between years,
each a story I’ll never know. Sometimes I create my own.”
No wonder none of us know who we are anymore.
Why are we so ashamed of periods? … Women’s bodies are incredibly sexualized in our media and in our every day experiences. So much so that even mentioning menstruation sends a lot of people into kindergarten levels of EW. And why? Because for a moment, you have broken the spell. And suddenly, you are no longer a magical mannequin unicorn fairy existing purely for the sexual fantasy of other people. Suddenly, you’re a human being! (X)