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detroitlib · 2 months

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View of the first four boosters of the Housewives League of Detroit. The women are wearing winter coats and hats; three of the women are carrying briefcases, one is carrying a purse. Printed on front: "Theus Photo". Handwritten on back: "MS/ Housewives League of Detroit - Box 4; First Housewives League of Detroit Boosters; l. to r. Mrs. Naomi Dean, Mrs. Mary Beasley, Mrs. Gertrude Tolbert Rogers, Mrs. Ethel Hemsley." Photograph taken by Theus Photo Service, 4508 Hastings, Detroit, Mich. c. 1930.

Burton Historical Collection, Detroit Public Library

#housewives league of detroit #theus photo #detroit #detroit history #vintage #boosters #dean #beasley #rogers #hemsley #hastings street #detroit public library

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alphabetsoup-blogposts · 2 years

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This very distressing case is still subject to investigation in Vancouver.

The ways in which Noelle has been failed, before and after her death, appear endless.

#crime #vancouver #heatley street #hastings street #Noelle O'Soup #neglect #port coquitlam #Key First Nation #C Munch #Elma Enan #Van Chung Pham #unnamed witness #drug trafficking #sex trafficking #Canada #news #O'Soup

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poem-today · 2 years

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A poem by Malcolm Lowry

Christ Walks in this Infernal District Too Beneath the Malebolge lies Hastings Street, The province of the pimp upon his beat, Where each in his little world of drugs or crime Moves helplessly or, hopeful, begs a dime Wherewith to purchase half a pint of piss – Although he will be cheated, even in this. I hope, although I doubt it, God knows This place where chancres blossom like the rose, For on each face is such a hard despair That nothing like a grief could enter there. And on this scene from all excuse exempt, The mountains gaze in absolute contempt, Yet this is also Canada, my friend, Yours to absolve of ruin, or make an end.

Malcolm Lowry (1909-1957)

Photo: Hastings Street, Vancouver, Dan Toulgoet

#malcolm lowry #canadian poetry #sonnet #vancouver #hastings street

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feminist-cult-following · 8 months

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characters that are actually lesbians because I say so <3

1. shiv roy — sometimes a woman hurts every man in her life because her true love is a woman <3

2. alicent hightower — goes without saying tbh

3. cristina yang — her offering to break up with owen so that teddy will stay in Seattle…I know what you are

4. cindy berman — literally if comphet was a person

5. agatha harkness — little miss “did somebody leave the oven on or is that just you, hot stuff?” can’t fool me

6. nancy wheeler — no one who isn’t gay looks at another woman the way she was looking at robin in that library

7. aria montgomery — wdym she ended up with her creepy teacher? no her and spencer are literally married

8. spencer hastings — see above

9. cassie howard — I know a closeted train wreck when I see one

10. tabby haworthe — she’s literally the mother of imogen’s baby

11. rachel gatina — ladies is it gay to destroy your own reputation and entire high school career to protect your bestie from expulsion?

12. johanna mason — it just makes sense

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cheese-water · 11 months

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Look. I know most of us have been feeling the Charlie Slimecicle drought after zero qsmp streams, and I’m right here missing him with you. However, we actually know the reason for his absence and, just maybe, see him on our screens once again.

Charlie is a central character in the horror production Generation Loss: The Social Experiments. It is a three-day-long live interactive experience on twitch created and hosted by his good friend Ranboo (tall guy with mask in the Sorry Boys videos). Think of it a kin to The Jerma985 Dollhouse streams but bigger and greater, said by Jerma himself. Along with Charlie and Ranboo, the cast features other creators such as Jerma985, Sneegsnag, and many more that have yet to be announced.

This has been Ranboo’s passion project for almost two years now, and it would mean so much to the cast, crew, and longtime fans as well if you chose to experience it live. It will be streamed on twitch.tv/ranboolive at 6 pm est on May 24, 26, and 28. Generation Loss is described as the biggest event in twitch history, so I hope to see you there ;)

Trigger warnings, merch links, and other information can be found in the twitter thread below:

And remember…

SAVE HIM

PROVE YOUR WORTH

FIND THE FOUNDER

#charlie slimecicle #slimecicle #qsmp #ranboolive #generation loss #genloss #ranboo #BOOBERS #AND GENLOSERS ALIKE #i call upon you in these trying times #too many slimecicle enjoyers are in mourning when we’re literally seeing him in two days time #We must inform the masses #With great haste now #TO THE STREETS #I can’t take myself seriously lmao

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damn-these-eyes · 2 months

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country music pub-vancouver's favorite

#street photography #vancouver #architecture #sign #signage #street scene #tableau #hastings st #east side

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vinyl-artwork · 3 months

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Blues Sounds of the Hastings Street Era (The Original Detroit Blues), 1973.

#Blues Sounds of the Hastings Street Era #1973

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leaveharmony · 6 months

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I really enjoy their "Stand back! I got this one!" team moves

Could Ishii have got out of that? Sure! Was it more fun for Okada to dropkick Shane? Yes! Did Okada have that taken care of? He did! Was a slingblade cooler? IT SURE WAS!

#Kazuchika Okada #Hiroshi Tanahashi #Shane Haste #Mikey Nicholls #Tomohiro Ishii #Tanariffic #Okadamn #On Ishii Street #Rasslin'#Movin' Pixels

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jomiddlemarch · 5 months

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Tis the privilege of friendship to talk nonsense

“I’m worried about Matthew,” Mary said, having set down the coffee-pot, every Wedgewood cup filled. The meal might have ended with port or brandy for the men in a household aspiring to be fashionable, but to Jed’s eternal amusement, Mary held fast to her New Hampshirewoman’s disapproval of anything she thought was more for show than purpose and though she was not deeply involved with the temperance movement, she saw limited appeal in spirits, which unlike coffee or even tea, never enlivened the enervated nor hastened industry. Jed spent a good deal of his time trying to impress upon her the value of leisure, but admitted it was a Sisyphean task. She applied her considerable efforts, fussing he called it, to the well-being of those she called friends, so he could not be surprised at her declaration.

“I’m sure you needn’t,” Emma said. This only caused Mary to purse her lips in a manner Jed found adorably kissable, but which indicated she felt Emma was not taking seriously what she deemed a serious matter indeed.

“Why are you worried?” Henry asked. “He’s not written often since he went to New York. At least not to me. Perhaps you’ve heard more from him?”

“If she hasn’t, it’s not for lack of trying,” Jed remarked. “At this rate, we may send Daniel out West to earn his Harvard tuition as his mother’s spent it on postage—”

“It won’t work, Jed, Emma and Henry already know you for a fabulist. You ought to confine your exaggeration to your waistcoats,” Mary replied, sounding very much as she had when they’d first met in Alexandria, all asperity and wit. She turned to face Henry, whose earnestness still matched her own. “It’s not so much what he says as what he omits and there are times I almost feel he’s written me a sermon instead of a letter to a friend.”

“I thought it would be easy enough for him, in New York. They’re not known for their propriety as Boston is,” Emma said. She had found it more difficult than she expected to gain acceptance, even as Mrs. Reverend Hopkins, her soft drawl a lesser issue than the myriad small faux pas she made, which she discovered only through a raised eyebrow or a short, barely audible sniff. When Mary’s efforts at consolation had proven ineffective, she’d brought Emma to Margaret Brook and then to the Bhaers’ exercise in utopia. She’d left with a hand-printed program of “The Pirate’s Fearsome Revenge and Also, His Parrot Makes a Freind” as a talisman against disappointment. “No Lowells, no Cabots, it might as well be a children’s garden party at Plumfield.”

“Evidently the von Rhijns and the Astors would make the Cabots and Lowells quail,” Mary said. “There’s a brazenness in New York society that’s frowned upon in Boston and Matthew mentioned that some of the newer families, the Russells in particular, are rather given to excess, even though that is reflected in their charitable giving as well as their millinery.”

“You are concerned Matthew will be caught up in the battles between old and new money?” Henry asked. “That he may be diverted from his ministry and his neediest parishioners?”

“The man survived five holiday bazaars, including the one the former Miss Hastings attended,” Jed said. “Have some faith—”

“He was at home then,” Mary said. “He knew the players and he knew who he might call upon as allies, should he need them.”

“You make it all sound quite cut-throat,” Jed said. “Not that I don’t think Anne brought a Bowie knife to that sewing bee you hosted. I expect she spiked the punch from her trusty flask as well.”

“No one serves punch at a sewing bee,” Emma said.

“I’m afraid Matthew’s affections are becoming improperly engaged,” Mary interrupted. Henry frowned but Jed let out a low whistle, one his sons had all learned to replicate. He was teaching the girls in secret.

“Improperly engaged! Given the source of such an assessment, I can only assume our esteemed Reverend Forte is enamored of a circus performer or perhaps his inamorata is a lady aeronaut,” Jed said, making little effort to restrain himself. He was, after all, among friends.

“Do be serious,” Emma said, an exhortation Mary knew better than to ever bother with. Henry, uxuoriousness undimmed by nearly twenty years of marriage, patted his wife’s hand. Mary rolled her eyes, but Jed could tell she was equally amused by his playfulness and Emma’s exasperation. There was little latitude granted to a minister’s wife in Massachusetts and Emma’s thirsts for gossip and the latest fashion were generally unquenched.

“Not a widow of means, then?” Henry said.

“He writes almost effusively about a Miss Brook and no, Jedediah, there is little chance she’s any relation to Mrs. John Brook, the surname is common enough,” Mary said.

“What makes an engagement an improper one then, Molly?” Jed asked.

“As her title suggests, she is unmarried, but not fresh from the schoolroom. She is a lady of some years—”

“An elderly spinster,” Jed remarked. “Probably poor as a church mouse, though I’d defer to Henry to explain why all the mice who make churches their residence are doomed to being impoverished. Not much opportunity for cheese, I suppose—"

“Hush!” Mary exclaimed. “She is of middle years and unmarried but what makes the engagement risky—”

“Not risqué,” Jed muttered under his breath, low enough Henry could claim he hadn’t heard but loud enough he’d grinned.

“Is her connection to the van Rhijn family,” Mary went on.

“Is she a second cousin? A cadet branch? A companion?” Emma asked, speaking the word companion as she might say harlot.

“She is Mrs. van Rhijn’s only sister,” Mary said. “He was invited to luncheon at the van Rhijn house. They had New England clam chowder. Miss Brook admitted amidst the guests that she’d had it specially prepared to remind him of home.”

Emma looked aghast.

Henry looked as surprised as he had when his eldest daughter Lydia had announced her intention of studying Ancient Greek at Wellesley College the day after the school’s charter was announced. She had been five at the time and was already halfway through Cicero.

Mary looked concerned and also divinely self-satisfied, largely due to the expressions on the faces of both Hopkins and the near-absolute silence that had descended on the sitting room. Jed could only barely make out the sound of the boys arguing, Rebecca wheedling cakes from Mrs. Hudson for Beatrice and the Hopkins girls. They were dear to him, these three, and though he could not share in the apprehension over Matthew Forte’s affections and reputation, he was fond of the minister in his own way.

“As it’s evident the three of you believe Reverend Forte shortly to be torn limb from limb, either figuratively or literally, with the likelihood of a new iteration of New England chowder featuring a man of God, his frock coat, and quantity of diced potatoes doused in cream soon to be presented at the van Rhijn table, I would suggest a course of action,” Jed said, allowing himself to wax, if not rhapsodic, then comedically melodramatic. Mary might take him to task later, but they were all so earnest and Emma, in particular, needed to be reminded there was life outside the parlor and parish hall, life she had once lived, most threatening with her swinging hoopskirt. It was always fraught, to refer to the War, each of them carrying their own burdens, each of them managing in the best way they knew how, but they had once attended or performed in the dramas of the Mansion House Players and given the clear desire to make a tragedy out of a few lines in Matthew’s letter, their previous experience would be well to be evoked.

“Well, out with it,” Mary said. “You’re overdoing the dramatic pause, Jedediah. If Timothy and John were with us, you wouldn’t escape so lightly—”

He nodded. The two younger boys had his same taste for mockery and were only slightly reined in by Daniel’s steadiness, so like his mother’s, and Bea’s innocence. Rebecca would only egg them on. Mary could quell them all with a glance but only if she chose.

“Matthew needs an ally. Reinforcements. The introduction of an unexpected character from the wings, kitted out with a shield and sword. And flask,” Jed said. Henry and Emma still had blank expressions but a light came into Mary’s dark eyes as he spoke and he loved her for it. “Mrs. Frederick Morris—”

“Nurse Hastings?”

“Anne?”

“I may quibble with your approach, but I must admit, this is a pretty solution. A surgeon’s intervention,” Mary said. “No one can deny Anne has the acuity and aim of a scalpel. She’s impervious to shame, while being well-aware of its impact on those around her. And she has the resources to allow her to make a splash in New York society, though her money’s old enough she will merit some respect. I shall write her in the morning.”

“And if she does not succeed?” Emma said.

“I suppose Dr. Foster may find it necessary to visit Mrs. Manson Mingott and make sure she has been taking her tonics as prescribed,” Mary said, smiling. “Or then, Newport is lovely in the summer and we’d be happy to have you and the girls come to stay for a few weeks, Emma. Henry, if you can’t get away, you needn’t fret. We shall have it all well in hand and Mrs. Brook and Mrs. Laurence will make sure you don’t expire while living as a bachelor.”

“I notice you don’t leave Henry to Jo Bhaer’s tender mercies,” Jed remarked.

“I shouldn’t think he’d survive the theatricals at Plumfield,” Mary said. “And she has quite a heavy hand with caraway, which I know makes Henry dyspeptic.”

“Shouldn’t we just send you to Matthew’s side? Within a week, you’d have wedding bells rung for the lovesick couple and Mrs. van Rhijn ringing them herself as well as all the receipts for Delmonico’s menu for Mrs. Hudson to improve upon,” Jed said.

Henry nodded.

Emma smiled.

“I’m far too busy here at the moment,” Mary said. “And Anne is likely in need of some diversion.”

“Heaven help Mrs. van Rhijn,” Jed said.

“I believe Matthew must be trying his best in that regard,” Henry said.

“Unless she has already dispatched him for chowder,” Emma added, making them all laugh.

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mermaidsirennikita · 8 months

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Not to give fictional men flowers but I do love it in a historical romance where the hero is like “he wanted to come inside her but nay, he would make the sacrifice of coming on her stomach/back/ass/tits/thighs/face because he respected her bodily autonomy despite his deep horniness” I’m always like Wow He Really Likes Her Huh

#romance novel blogging #the scene in the warlord wants forever where nikolai doesn’t come in myst because he like #respects that she doesn’t have baby wipes and they’re in the street #that’s love and respect 😌#[LAMENTABLE HASTE]

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mitaffenartigergeschwendigkeit · 1 day

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