#lsv

[dogrotpdf]

how’s that house that raised you?

[cardboard-crack]

Check out my new Cardboard Crack shirts and stickers!

[thunderrayarts]

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Don’t Be a Gossip

A contrary man sends forth contention, A tale-bearer is separating a familiar friend. — Proverbs 16:28 | Literal Standard Version (LSV) Literal Standard Version Bible Copyright © 2020 by Covenant Press. Cross References: Proverbs 6:14; Proverbs 15:18; Proverbs 16:27; Proverbs 16:29; Proverbs 17:9; Proverbs 26:20

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Proverbs 16:28 Commentaries

[thosefuzzywordfeelings]

La Seduction Vengeance // Part Two.

CW: mentions of violence, manipulation

The rope was tight. Enough. Coarse, tied securely around the trunk of a blossom tree outside the house, I observed my setup. If my amateur calculations were correct, the breezeblock suspended from the tree should fall directly onto the bonnet of Mr Thompson's car. It was midnight, people on my street known for getting early nights. That was the lucky thing in my situation, the residents of Blossom Close either over the age of 80 or so inundated with money that they'd be visiting their multiple holiday homes as soon as the sun burned the streets warmer. My dad and I were the youngest on the street, keeping everyone feeling youthful and hopeful with the sitcom-like happiness that used to radiate from our home.

Now, Mr Thompson wasn't a terribly behaved man, he just had some what he called 'old-fashioned' ideals about the way the world was changing. And it was those outlandish opinions shared a little too loudly to those on our street that made me choose him for this particular mission. I needed to get that SUV down this road, and I needed to speak to that officer. Double checking that none of the houses lights had switched on - elderly folk up using the bathroom at witching hour - and when I was sure it was clear I pulled out the shiny engraved switchblade my dad had bought me for my 18th. "Every young woman should have one of these. In case of emergencies, you know?"

I'd consider this an emergency, Dad. Slicing the thick rope in one swift cut, the breezeblock came tumbling down onto the grey metal, the alarm instantly blaring to alert the street. I ran away to my house, three doors down - thankfully - and ran through my screen door. Sweat formed on my brow as I peered through my living room curtains, making sure to keep all my lights off. As I heard commotion and angry yells from Mr Thompson; I knew that was my cue. Wrapping a large hoodie around my frame and pulling it over my head, I pulled an eye mask over my head too, letting it nestle on the rim of my forehead as I slipped on some slippers. Heading out into the cold, dark night once again, I found Darcy coming out to our side of the road.

"Looks like Jerry's in a bit of trouble there." Darcy spoke with a slight giggle. She didn't like him either, not many of the residents of this street did. Looking down the pavement at Mr Thompsons arms flailing about angrily as residents began to gather at the chaos, the all too familiar silhouette of the black SUV came swinging around the corner of the street. Bingo. Clunky black DM's hit the concrete as the young man stepped out of the car, sucking back a disgusting cloud of flavoured smoke from a vape I could see was electric green from down the street. He came towards Mr Thompson and his beautifully wrecked car (you're welcome) before looking around at the other residents. His eyes landed on mine for a moment before drifting back to Mr Thompson.

"He might just be the dishiest officer we've had around here, you know. Your age too." Darcy mumbled as she folded her arms, trying to hug herself away from the chill of the night. I knew what she was trying to do, trying to hook me up with the not entirely unattractive sheriff, but she had no idea of my ulterior motive. I chuckled lightly in her direction, keeping my eyes on the officer. Shit. He was walking towards me. If I end up in a jail cell I'm screw-

"Good evening ladies, or should I say mornin'?" The young man spoke with a sideways smile. Darcy and I smiled in response, her bony elbow nudging mine subtly. I nudged her back. "You lovely ladies see what happened to Gerry's car?"

"No, sir. I was sleeping. Woke up to the alarm blaring." I replied innocently, pointing to the eye mask atop my head. His eyes flickered up to it, studying it for a moment.

"Sleep is for the week?" He read the lettering on it aloud, chuckling to himself as he turned towards Darcy. "What about you, Ms Brook? Know you ain't too fond of the man. Got some weightlifting trophies we don't know about?"

I fought the urge to roll my eyes at his ridiculous attempt at humour, my eyes looking over his uniform and his features. He had beauty marks dotted over his skin, ironic considering his cocky personality was so ugly. But the way his kevlar hugged his frame, his cap rested almost over two big chocolate eyes was getting a little intense. He didn't seem that attractive when he was perring out of the SUV window, but I suppose that's a distance away. Doubt flooded my mind that this young man could have possibly killed my father, but I needed to get answers nonetheless.

"Well here's a card with my details on. You know, incase something comes to ya." He said, shoving a little piece of cardboard into just my hand, Darcy peering over my shoulder at the writing. Gator Tillman. Tillman sounded familiar, but i couldn't think where from. I nodded up at Gator, tucking the card into my dressing gown pocket. He walked away, taking one more quick glance over my shoulder at me before patting Mr Thompson on the shoulder; seeming to have made amends with the old crony about fixing his car. Hm. I needed to speak to him more, I thought to myself, as I bid goodnight to Darcy and headed back into my house to sleep. And plan.

Like some kind of crazed, grieving magician I'd been working on my next trick for just a few days. The middle of the night worked best, as it seemed Gator was on call a lot more nightly as of late. I'd decided to make this one a little personal, meticulously planning out a break in. Of my own home. I'd wait until the street was silent, all the elderly folks resting peacefully in their beds - bar Gerry Thompson who I could practically still hear grumbling about his car even still - and I'd smash my front door window in. My dad had left some money in piggybanks in the basement and it was a little window, easy to fix. In he'd come, like a knight in shining camouflage and then I'd out him. Or whatever, I hadn't actually thought of the crux of the trap yet. The onyx sky rolled around quickly, as I bound multiple tea-towels around my fist and headed through my back door and around the porch towards the front. Punching straight through the glass, I unlocked the door and snuck in; making sure to use a pair of my dad's old shoes to tread in the glass. I did the same to my back door, punching out the glass towards the patio so the 'attacker' could escape.

Unwrapping the tea-towels and putting them back in the kitchen drawer, I was relieved that my fist was unharmed. The next part was to wreck my beautiful kitchen, making sure the drawers were emptied and the knife block was menacingly strewn onto the floor as it looked like someone had ransacked the place. Grabbing duct tape from the drawer, I wrapped it around my wrists, pulling it and securing it tightly with my teeth. Some feat. I threw the duct tape underneath the sink. Holding two strips in between the fingers of one hand and my mobile phone in the other, I headed upstairs to my dad's bedroom, sitting in the corner opposite the dresser and tying one of the duct tape strips haphazardly around my ankles. Calling 911, I took some quick breaths in succession before they picked up. Just as an unfamiliar male voice answered, my tied feet kicked the dresser and let everything crash from its top. I screamed for help as the person the phone confirmed someone was on their way. As I covered my own mouth with the final strip of duct tape, I muffled some fake screams through it as the call handler tried to reassure me. Rolling my eyes I took the final step, adrenaline running through my veins at my intricate plan; drawing my head back hard against the wall and slumping down with my eyes.

I came round to a deep voice and a firm hand pinching my shoulder. "Ma'am? Can you hear me?" Groaning and mumbling, I blinked my eyes open to see two officers knelt beside me, holding pieces of duct tape from my body and bottled water. "Is he gone?" I mumbled, mentally noting that I should absolutely write a speech for my upcoming Oscar. "Is who gone? We found signs of forced entry, you're looking at getting two new doors replaced. No perp though." One of the young officers spoke softly. Neither of them were Gator. My entire plan had been to get Gator into a corner, like a little rat. A rat who, no matter how intelligent he may have seemed, had no idea that the person holding the cheese had backed him up into that corner on purpose.

With an inspection of my head and more numbers to call if I was 'alarmed', the officers headed back to their station as I packed a bag to stay at Darcy's for the rest of the night. The officers warned that the 'perp' may come back with my broken doors, so they'd asked my sweet, oblivious neighbour if I could crash at her place. She was kind, as always. Opening the door in her fluffy robe and matching slippers, her smile as warm as the heating that rushed out of the door of her home. "Come on dear, tea is ready for you. Lord knows you must be shaking like a willow in a storm." Her soft voice carried me into her home, as I settled on her floral-patterned couch. We drank tea, as I allowed my mouth to ramble about the horrors of what - I had orchestrated - had happened that evening. I felt awful lying to Darcy's face but the rigid ache in form of flashbacks and memories of my father pushed the lies right out of my mouth.

She gave me a kiss on the head as I stood in the doorway of her spare room. I felt my eyelids tingle with a sadness I hadn't allowed myself to process yet. "You'll be alright darlin'." Darcy's words were gentle, but her actions bore a heavy weight that I think she knew I needed. Then they came, what felt like gallons of tears washing over my cheeks as Darcy wrapped her arms around my shoulders, pulling me against her chest. "Double squeeze." She whispered softly, her arms tensing around my shoulders twice. I pulled away instantly with a worried look on my face between sobs. "How do you know - about - about double squeeze?" I said weakly, my voice wavering with sadness. Darcy's face broke into a sympathetic smile. "I've known you since you were this big, darlin' -" She whispered, holding her index and thumb finger paralell to each other, "Saw you grow up. Saw how your father loved you. Saw how you loved him. He always told me how clever you were, how you were going to take on the world. I still see it. In your eyes, you're still that clever little girl, that clever big man raised you to be. He said to me one day," Darcy spoke with such passion, her elderly voice hinting with her own grief for my father as she grasped my hands tightly, "He said, if I'm ever not here, remind her. Remind her of her bravery and dont forget the double squeeze." I let out a sad chuckle as I kept the flow of sadness streaming down my face as her words clung to my skin like the double squeeze. My father would always hug me, tightly, sometimes so tight that my lungs felt like they could burst. He'd let go with a chuckle, kissing the top of my head as he'd wrap his arms around me tighter, squeezing twice as he mumbled 'double squeeze' into the top of my head. What I'd give to feel that from him again. Darcy's arms were thick, soft and plush and the squeeze felt too kind. I needed the air knocked out of me. With a sad smile, I hugged her and thanked her for her kindness tonight as I shut the door behind me and settled into the squeaky metal bed frame. I hugged one of her downy cushions tightly, letting a few more tears hit the pillow. "Take on the world." "Clever little girl." Darcy's words echoed around my head as I tossed and turned, staring up at the mottled ceiling. I needed to get to that smarmy officer. Pretty boy. Dangerous for an active murderer to wear such a sweet smile. I needed to come up with something better.

[unitedbydevils]

Match Review: Manchester United Women 1-1 Arsenal Women

Well done, Skinner. You woke Arsenal back up. For fuck sake.

Arsenal with Jonas were shit. Arsenal post-Jonas have looked a little lost. You always step up against bigger opposition due to the fear of getting humbled, but Arsenal looked really sharp today.

Their passing was better, more inventive, of greater accuracy. Their movement was sharper, their duelling was better timed and more productive.

Their diligence and quality was rewarded with a goal by no other than ex-United forward Alessia Russo, with a cute finish that surprised Phallon Tullis-Joyce to give Arsenal the lead in the 63rd minute.

PTJ did have a very good game though, as did Maya Le Tissier and Millie Turner at CB. Gabby George and Aoife Mannion were solid enough, but United did look better with sub Jayde Riviere on.

Janssen was assured as ever in CDM, whilst Lisa Naalsund was a little off-the-boil today. Simi Awujo was an upgrade at half time when Naalsund went off injured, but it begged the question why no start when Arsenal are known for being a little more athletic and pressing than United. The same can be said for the usage or lack of re: Hayley Ladd - another solid DM.

United's issue was in attack though. Celin Bizet looked sharp and had a lot of the ball, but that made her an obvious double-up target and limited her impact. Grace Clinton was wasteful in CAM but also keenly pressed, and Ella Toone ineffective at LW.

A second-half positional swap for the two didn't achieve a lot, but the subs of Malard for Toone, Geyse for Bizet, and Williams for Terland did. Good decisions. Skinner isn't entirely useless, and Malard/Geyse were exceptional from when they came on. Very active, driving at Arsenal with intent... it was nice to see the fear flipped.

The problem is that things like Malard on the left... they're obvious. She's far more comfortable on the left, like the injured Leah Galton, than Toone/Clinton. This comfort makes a player a threat, and that makes Arsenal respect the player and press them. That buys others time and space. Clinton and Bizet are in great form, yet today they looked tame.

Based on the Arsenal press, it was incredibly stupid not to utilise Hinata Miyazawa also. Personally I'd have started her over Tooney, who I feel has been okay but not great, and given her recent bereavement... I get wanting to play and to keep busy, but form comes first. Miyazawa has looked great whenever she has featured this season. We cannot waste her like Irene Guerrero, and she's INCREDIBLY PRESS-RESISTANT. Handy versus notorious pressers Arsenal...

All of the above also limited the impact of Elisabeth Terland too, but luckily we have the guile of Rachel Williams on the bench, and the central preference of Melvine Malard that helps her be a double threat from LW and going beyond Rach.

Speaking of Millie, she won both the Player of the Match award for her stoic defending and was given a commemorative shirt for her 150th United appearance - seen here with partner Lisa Naalsund and the rest of her family.

Both teams will feel hard done by with just a point, but oh well. Better than a defeat.

Next up is a lovely 6:45pm SUNDAY fixture against Aston Villa at the LSV. A very winnable game, but wtf is that timing? Ew.

[female-malice]

Remember: aiming to be less bad than straight men is a pathetic goal.

The goal should be reducing the harm inflicted on other women as much as possible. Trying to be less bad than men comes nowhere close to that.

[judedeluca]

When Garth has enough of the LSV's bullshit

Lightning Lad: Alright, I tried to use logic and I tried to reason with you, so let me spell it right out. Either you three leave Metropolis of your own accord or I use my Cybernetic 4000 robot arm to forcibly expel you from Metropolis.

Lightning Lad: Followed by all your organs shortly thereafter, GOT IT?

Esper: Oh please, you wouldn't hurt a fly.

Lightning Lad: You're right.

Lightning Lad: Because a fly is an innocent creature that never knowingly did anything to anyone.

Lightning Lad: YOU however, I WOULD MAIM.