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New look at Daniel Craig as Benoit Blanc in WAKE UP DEAD MAN: A KNIVES OUT MYSTERY.

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Federal election in six days guys. Time to actually look up the sixteen billion tiny parties and figure out which ones are white power christofascists employed by billionaire mining magnates and which ones aren't.

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Huh. I had no idea the outrage was imported, or that it came from the word raccoon. I always understood it to be a slur that was used against Aboriginal people, and I think I have seen that depicted? Idk if I’m just making that up now.

But god yeah certain Australians will defend their right to be casually racist, especially if it’s something that’s outside our borders. Like that candy/sweet that is now called a red ripper or, and this one I never saw anyone outraged about because maybe they weren’t a cultural icon, those chocolate covered marshmallows that I swear to god were once called ‘Eskimo balls’, but which added the ‘snow’ to it and then dropped the first bit altogether. I swear I’m not making that up even though I can only find evidence of the middle one now.

And my dad taught me a very different version of ‘catch a tiger by the toe’, but idk if that was a widespread thing or just that he was exactly the kind of Aussie boomer who would get mad about ‘political correctness gone mad’ when they changed the name of the cheese and think that it was fine to use a slur because he didn’t ’mean anything by it’, and maybe he thought it was funny to hear his kid use the n word.

Anyway yeah there was some stuff I had to unlearn, but also I can take a small amount of joy in thinking of them all as ‘snow white boomers’ because there’s a song about that but it doesn’t mean that, lmao.

nooo racoon furry...please don't call yourself THAT...

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DELETE THIS POST

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Drive a saint to suicide, thought Catherine Standish. Lord above! I’m channeling my mother. They were the words she’d used earlier, about Jackson Lamb: that he’d drive a saint to suicide. Not a phrase she’d ever expected to hear herself say, but this was what happened: you turned into your mother, unless you turned into your father. That, anyway, was what happened if you let life smooth you down, plane away the edges that made you different. Catherine had had edges once, but for years had lived a life whose borders were marked by furriness, and mornings when she wasn’t sure what had happened the night before. Traces of sex and vomit were clues; bruises on arms and thighs. The sense of having been spat out. Her relationship with alcohol had been the most enduring of her life, but like any abusive partner it had shown its true colours in the end. So now Catherine’s edges had been planed away, and alone in the kitchen of her north London flat she made a cup of peppermint tea, and thought about bald men. There were no bald men in her life. There were no men in her life, or none that counted: there were male presences at work, and she’d grown fond of River Cartwright, but there were no actual men in her life, and that went double for Jackson Lamb. Nevertheless, she was thinking about bald men; about one in particular, giving a swift glance up at the camera before pacing into the driving rain of a railway platform, instead of boarding under shelter. And about the hat he wasn’t wearing because he’d left it on a bus two minutes earlier. And she was also thinking, because she often did, how easy it would be to slip out for a bottle of wine, and have one small drink to prove she didn’t need one. One glass, and the rest down the sink. A Chablis. Nicely chilled. Or room temperature, if the off-licence didn’t keep it fridged; and if they didn’t have Chablis, a Sauvignon Blanc would do, or a Chardonnay, or triple strength lager, or a two-litre bottle of cider. Deep breath. My name is Catherine, and I’m an alcoholic. A copy of the Blue Book stood between a dictionary and a collected Sylvia Plath in the sitting room, and there was nothing to stop her settling down with it, peppermint tea at her elbow, until the wobble passed. The wobble: that was another one of her mother’s. Code for a hot flush. A lot of codewords, her mother had used. Which was almost funny, given what Catherine did for a living.

Dead Lions by Mick Herron (2015)

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Jackson Lamb after Catherine told him “fuck you”

(It was once)

(he called her in all possible ways before, yelled at her and tried to piss her off daily for YEARS)

(now he is going to get drunk to death)

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who let this bird on the train

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Suffer with me

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Adventures in Blazing

I signed up for tumblr premium almost a month ago, wanting to get rid of the ads, and also in response to fears that this website might go away and hey, here’s one way I can contribute to preventing that from happening (I have no idea if that’s likely; I’ve seen a lot of panic of late with no idea where it comes from, but hey, I have full-time employment, I pay for YouTube premium, I used to pay for LJ back in the day, why not). So far, I’m enjoying the little typewriter icon I put next to my name, and I’m enjoying none ads, even though I never found tumblr’s ads super intrusive.

A few days ago, I made a quippy little post about being immune to ghosting because I’ve learned to ignore my incredibly rejection sensitive brain, and then on a whim I decided to use my free blaze to promote it. It was my birthday present to myself, just click the button and see what happens.

Well. The post has a few hundred notes now and seems to have taken on a life of its own, which is kind of cool, though it has fewer notes than the WoT one I made the day before that took off all by itself. I have some new followers, probably from one of the two posts. If that’s you, hi! 👋 I hope you like middle-aged women because that’s what most of my blog content is. There are some comments, some of which invite interaction more than others. I got one anon hate that began with the phrase ‘I don’t usually send anon hate, but’ which made it very easy to delete. Thanks for saying what you were doing right there on the label, nonny! My post was encouraging good communication skills so that does show some, good job.

Other than that, blaze wasn’t world changing, but I have a few questions for people who’ve been premium longer than me. Do they accumulate, the blazes, if you don’t use them? Or is it use it or lose it every month? Also, what is the etiquette surrounding blazing other people’s posts? I can imagine that could be nice, or more likely, funny, but does the recipient get to decline it if they don’t want it? I’m fine with opening myself up to anon hate, but I wouldn’t like to potentially subject someone else to it without warning.

Tell me your thoughts, o inner circle of the chaos hellsite.

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First Lines Meme

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fics.

No one tagged me but @inell just did this and now I feel like it. I've been writing more lately so why not?

Diana Sedai, sitter for the blue ajah and runner of its eyes-and-ears network, unofficial second to the First Selector, is contemplating North Harbour at dusk. (x)

Every few months, Lamb takes a half day. (x)

“My spouse doesn’t want to have sex any more,” Kate says, “and if someone doesn’t fuck me soon, I might scream.” (x)

When the knock comes on the door and they tell her, Kate’s first thought is oh, not Richard? (x)

At the conclusion of a multiple-agency security briefing, Diana Taverner is collecting her coat from her chair when she is approached by the Defence Secretary—a familiar face from a variety of meetings, but not someone who usually has any time for her (nor she for him).

It’s summer in London, and a cooling breeze blows through the city. (x)

It is a dark night indeed when Scythe Faraday turns up on the doorstep at Falling Water wearing a somber expression and - more ominously - civilian gear. (x)

Three things happen in the autumn of 1929. (x)

They have been in Buenos Aires for three days finalising the preparations for their Antarctic expedition when Cornelia announces at breakfast that she will be departing on the ferry bound for Montevideo within the hour, and will stay overnight. (x)

Citra Terranova had been apprenticing under Marie for two months when she asked the question. (x)

I've done a meme like this before, and the last time it asked me to identify any patterns and pick a favourite, so I thought I'd add that to this, too.

Patterns: I'm less serially monogamous, fannishly, than I used to be? I seem to have a tendency to alternate now, maybe, or at least dip a toe back in. 1,2,5&6 are Slow Horses, 3&4 are Military Wives, 7&10 are Arc of a Scythe, and 8&9 are The Infinite Bad. Certainly that pattern would continue if I kept going back - another AoaS fic before a James Bond one and more TiB stuff. A far cry from that person who spent nearly ten years in a single fandom (I said to someone the other day how weird it was to realise that at some point I wrote my last HP fic without knowing it would be the last one). The other pattern is probably the tendency to not write anything for two years, lol. That's the time gap between 6&7. Slow Horses has got me back on the horse, as it were.

And my fave of these openers has to be #3.

Tag anyone who feels like it!

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Movie ask: 7 and 10

7. a film released before 1970

The Bat (1959) - it's a campy horror classic starring Vincent Price and Agnes Moorehead. He's first-billed but she's actually the lead - and it's one of her few leading roles, actually. She plays a mystery author renting a home in a town being terrorised by a mysterious killer known as 'The Bat'. She has an assistant called Lizzie with whom the vibes are beautifully queer. Also the film is in the public domain now so you can watch it here if you want.

10. a film where the vibes are immaculate

The Hours (2002) - Three powerhouse performances and a variety of supporting gems, in service to a beautiful novel adapted from another beautiful novel. This film is having so many conversations with other texts it practically breathes by itself (they even have Eileen Atkins, who has made a study of playing and writing about Woolf, cameo as the flower seller).

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kinda cunty that liandrin got her hair done when she went for her job interview with moghedien like relatable queen she knew the forsaken had certain style requirements

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Does Hugh Laurie need a reason to wear a dress?

Other than pulling it the fuck off, I mean.

the house md promo pic of house in a wedding dress with the sloppiest smeared makeup look. Literally what was the point of that

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movie ask game

ask a number and recommend movies based on the following questions

a film in the IMDB Top 250

an indie film

a summer blockbuster

a foreign language film

a black-and-white film

an animated film

a film released before 1970

a film released after 2010

a film from the year you were born

a film where the vibes are immaculate

a film whose main genre is Action/Adventure

a film whose main genre is Comedy

a film whose main genre is Horror/Thriller

a film whose main genre is Drama

a film whose main genre is Science Fiction

a film whose main genre is Science Fiction

a film whose main genre is Romance/Musical

a film whose main genre is Western

a film to feel good/uplifted

a film to feel bad/depressed

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i feel like tumblr doesnt know about the pain and suffering that is english tap water,,,, girl there are stalagmites inside me