#radioactive phone booth

[richiekirschs]

SHE’S MY BABY — Spider-Man!Lottie Matthews

and i hope you don’t save some other girl…

warnings— fem reader (she/her used), typical spider-man shenanigans, gun mentions, ooc lottie probably

[part 1]

lottie: when did you want to get coffee

lottie: 11:15 at little collins?

you: isn’t that in the city?

lottie: yeah but i can venmo you for the ferry fee

you: no it’s fine i can take the bridge

lottie: ok see you tmrw

you: here

you: sitting in a booth towards the back

Lottie’s late.

You’re anxiously checking your phone screen over and over, trying to make sure you haven’t missed any rain-check texts.

11:28. Nothing.

You fidget in your seat, bouncing your leg, looking at the door with hopeful eyes whenever the bell chimes.

At exactly 11:30, the door swings open, a frantic Lottie rushing in from the other side.

“I’m sorry!” she immediately says, collapsing into the booth. “This guy stole an old lady’s purse, and then—“

“Lottie,” you interrupt, “calm down. I’m not mad, I just thought you forgot.”

“No,” she promises, still a bit out of breath. “No, I actually swung over here.”

“What, like, with your webs?”

“Would you lower your voice?” she hisses.

“It’s New York, Lot,” you deadpan. “I literally saw a man taking a shit on the sidewalk.” You lock eyes with a man at the counter, leaning back to stretch his arms. You jerk your thumb at Lottie as you say, “She’s Spider-Man.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he says before turning back to his phone.

You sip from your drink. “So how exactly did this happen? Is this your weird attempt at a fursona?”

“It’s not a fursona,” she mumbles defensively. “I got bit by a spider. I guess it was, like, radioactive or something.”

“Radioactive?” you repeat. “Like the dogs in Chernobyl?”

“Yeah,” she replies, “except I didn’t grow any extra teeth like those fish. I fell onto this lady on the subway the night after and my hand got stuck to her shirt, and I… ripped it off…” She flushes pink.

“How the fuck did that happen?”

“I’m, like… sticky,” she informs you, embarrassed as she flexes her hands. You wrinkle your nose at sticky. “And I get these weird tingles right before something happens.”

“Does the web come out of you?” you question, genuinely intrigued.

“Yeah,” she shrugs. “I don’t have extra legs, though, before you ask.”

“How’d you get out last night?”

“I put the suit back on in the shower, then went back out the window. I went down the balcony into your bedroom. Natalie came in, though, so I hid on… the ceiling…” As the words leave her mouth, she clearly realizes how weird it sounds.

“I’m impressed, Lot,” you admit. “It’s been a year, and I never would’ve guessed it was you. I thought you had some secret lover and that’s why you were sneaking around.”

It’s her turn to wrinkle her nose. “God, no. I felt really bad about always leaving you, though.”

You shrug. “It’s definitely not as bad as when Tai and Van coincidentally sneak off to go have sex. They’re not even subtle about it.”

Lottie laughs, but she shifts uncomfortably, like someone just licked their finger and stuck it in her ear.

You frown. “You okay?”

She looks up, but it’s almost like she’s looking through you. Her eyes track movement in the window at your back.

She grabs her backpack. “I have to go.”

You turn around, but there’s nothing there. You whip back around to face her. “What the hell, Lottie?”

“I’m sorry!” she insists. “I’ll—I’ll call you, okay?”

She doesn’t give you time to respond before she’s sprinting out the door of the café, chasing down whatever she’d seen behind you.

You’re upset, to say the least.

You walk back to the ferry parking garage where you’d parked, grinding your teeth. If it were a cartoon, you might have steam coming out of your ears.

You have to take three laps around the garage before you finally find your car.

But as you approach your car, you can see a figure yanking at your driver’s side door.

“Hey!” you shout. “What the fuck?”

“This your car?” he asks.

“I’m not shouting at you for fun,” you snap.

“Give me your keys,” he commands.

“No, I’m not gonna give you my keys!”

He shoves his hand into the pocket of his jacket and points it at you. “Give me the fucking keys!”

“I can see your thumb sticking out, I know you don’t have a gun! It’s a piece of shit anyway, just back off—“

He starts forward, but he only gets a few steps in before something shoots past you—you literally blink and miss it, and when you look back at the man attempting to carjack you his hand is stuck to the wall with a fucking web.

Fucking Lottie.

“I thought she told you to back off, man,” Lottie sighs.

“Why do you sound like that?” the man asks, which is the same thing you’re wondering.

You know it’s Lottie, of course. But she’s using some weird, Ghostface-esque voice modulator.

“Sound like what?” she bluffs.

“No, I heard you earlier,” the man insists, “when you were chasing me. I know what a girl sounds like.”

“I’m not a girl!” Lottie shouts. “I’m a boy! Fuck—a man!”

If you hadn’t just been a victim of an attempted carjacking (and possibly murder), you would’ve bust out laughing. Lottie’s voice sounded very Mickey Altieri—it’s time, girlfriend!

“Man, I really don’t care,” the man shrugs, defeated.

Lottie mumbles, “Interrogation mode, off,” before turning back to you. “Go home, okay?”

You nod, surprisingly relieved by Lottie saving the day. You get into your car and turn the key.

“That’s gonna dissolve in 2 hours, okay?” Lottie tells the man, who’s still stuck to the wall.

“What?” he exclaims. “No, I need to get home!”

She jogs off. “2 hours! You deserve that!”

You can’t help but laugh as you start your drive home.

KITTY MEOWS! I pray this was as good as y’all wanted it to be… the second half is very heavily based on the scene of Donald Glover in Homecoming I thought it would be silly for Lottie 😞

[writers-requiem]

(94 tas) after another spider episode,Peter wakes up in the middle of Central Park,at 5 am,dirty of blood and dirt and with just pants but they’re completely torn apart and large,so while trying to keep his pants up and avoid possible people,he calls Eddie/venom from a public phone.Eddie is not happy been called at 5 am but since “it happened again” he has to rescue Peter (just the fun of having two characters that don’t like each other begrudgingly helping each other,NOT because I ship them)

I believe I made it clear that any asks are to be simple. This involves a lot of nuance and thus can be classified as complex. If you want something similar to this, please attempt to simplify it. Rules are available in the pinned post.

Edit: For future reference, perhaps try to make the request as simple as possible. Nothing over the top or too complex.

Eddie Brock helps the Man-Spider

Peter wakes up on a bench in central park. He has no clothes except for his pants which are now torn up. He questions what happened, but then he sees that his whole body is covered in hair and he grew extra arms. He's mutated into the Man-Spider again.

Once Peter got the facts straight he knew there was only one place to go, Eddie Brock's apartment. The thought of going there for Venom's help made Peter sick to his stomach, but he knows that Eddie has made tremendous progress since he came back from another dimension. So he was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. So he went to a phone booth and called Eddie immediately.

Peter: "Eddie, it's me. Peter. I need your help, now! Meet me on the roof of ESU in 30-45 minutes."

After leaving the message, he swung away and waited on the roof of Empire State University for his formal rival.

Once Eddie arrived, he looked horrified at what Peter had become.

Eddie: "Yo, Pete... What happened to you?"

Peter: "Long story short; Radioactive spider bite a few years back."

Eddie still had difficulty processing what his newfound friend had become, but he knew he had to help him somehow. Dr. Connors was away on vacation, and Kraven's wife was over in Africa with him.

Eddie: "I got an idea. But you may not like it."

Peter didn't even need to ask before he gave his response.

Peter: "Whatever it takes! I'll even see Norman Osborn to fix this!"

Eddie: "We're gonna see Miles Warren."

Peter: "WHAT!?"

They went to Dr. Warren's lab and explained the situation, he agreed to help and ran multiple tests on Peter's DNA before figuring out how to remove his Man-Spider transformation without getting rid of his powers. Once Peter is given the antidote, he reverts back to human form, but Eddie, protecting Peter's identity as Spider-Man, puts on a spare mask as he shifts back to normal and obstructs Warren's vision of Peter.

Once all is said and done, they go their separate ways, Peter and Eddie get Miles Warren arrested, and all's well that ends well.

[pinerjava]

Angry gran run radioactive

#Angry gran run radioactive for free

#Angry gran run radioactive for free

Will you get out alive? Find out now for free in Angry Gran Radioactive Run! Social Integration – Brag and boast when you complete levels and shatter high scores to your Facebook and Twitter minions.Ĭrazy Graphics – A myriad of bombs, booths, benches, boxes, boomīoxes, bins and other things that don’t begin with B to dodge. – 21 BIohazardous levels of Radioactive fun! –Ģ1 intense levels packed with assorted obstaclesĬhallenging for players of all skill levelsĬlassy costumes – Unlock awesome costumes to dash over the city in style!Ĭompetitive Leaderboards – Show your friends who is the most Retry the same level over and over until you win or you completely meltdown! Generates a crazy random level for you to dodge and weave your way through! – Can you last through the Granny Gauntlet? – They’ve stepped it up a notch and have gone nuclear! Now it’s time to escape the radioactive city before Angry Gran becomes Atomic Gran! Dodge, jump, run and slide your way over the nuclear nasties on the last bridge out of town before it’s too late!Ĭompete with your friends for the highest, most biohazardous score!īecomes increasingly difficult the better you are!Ĭreates a different every time for hours of radioactive fun! You’ve escaped the asylum in Angry Gran Run and driven the doctors way past the brink of insanity themselves. Will Angry Gran get out of the radioactive city alive? You can download Angry Gran Radioactive Run Application on both your Android and iOS Mobiles.įull Review about Angry Gran Radioactive Run App The man who made Angry Gran Radioactive Run software is named and This app was uploaded for the 1st Time on 08:00:00 on Google Play Store and Apple’s App Store. Angry Gran Radioactive Run Mobile application Apk Download : In this Latest article, I will show you how you can download the latest 1.0.5 version of Angry Gran Radioactive Run App and its Apk virsion direct in your Android or iOS Phone.

[combeauferre]

11 + 28!

11 - “you didn’t tell me your friend was cute! now what am i going to do?”

28 - “how can you drink that stuff?”

Dan’s getting ready to walk out the door when his phone rings.

“Hey,” he says as he answers, grabbing a jacket. 

“Hey,” Bryony says down the phone, and Dan can tell she’s going to ask a favour. 

“What do you want?” Dan asks with a laugh. Bryony laughs back at him. 

“Is it okay if my friend comes with us tonight? He just sort of got stood up on a date and he could do with a good time.”

“Which friend?” 

“Phil.” 

“Sure, why not?” Dan says as he makes his way out his building and into the cab. “The more the merrier, right?” 

-

When he gets into the bar, Dan sees Bryony immediately. He knew she’d dyed her hair green this week, but he wasn’t expecting it to be quite so... neon. She’s rocking it, of course, because it’s her. He doesn’t recognise the guy sat opposite her, but it must be Phil. It throws him for a second, because fuck. He’s cute. He’s cute as hell, and Bryony knows his type, and how dare she not warn him about this. 

“Hey,” he says as he slides into the seat next to Bryony, shooting her a quick look that he knows she’ll understand perfectly. 

“Hey,” she says with a smile. “So this is Phil, this is Dan.” She gestures to them each in turn and Phil awkwardly reaches out a hand to shake Dan’s. His hands are soft, and Dan doesn’t really want to let go. 

“We’ve already ordered drinks,” she carries on, “We got you a Jack and coke?” 

“Perfect,” Dan says, grinning. “So, Phil, what do you do?” 

“I’m a youtuber, actually,” Phil says, almost shyly. Dan grins, looking over at Bryony again. 

“Huh,” he says, nodding. “Small world. Me too.” 

“Yeah, I, uh.” He pauses a moment, looks down at his hands. “I’ve seen some of your stuff.” He’s a little pink in the cheeks, and Dan is trying his best not to melt. 

“Wish I could say the same for you,” he says softly. “What kind of stuff do you make?” 

“Oh, mostly just anything I can’t get out of my head,” Phil laughs. “Last week I made a plant tour video, that was a popular one.” 

“I love those videos!” Dan grins, “I’ll have to watch it some time.” 

“Drinks, boys,” Bryony chirps up. Dan realises he’d almost forgotten she was there, and moves his arms to let the drinks be put down on the table. Phil’s is a radioactive pink colour, and Dan pulls a face. 

“How can you drink that stuff?” 

“Too pink for you?” Phil grins. 

“Too sweet,” Dan counters. “It’s like sticking your face in a bag of sugar.” 

“Exactly,” Phil says. 

They chat for a little while before Phil excuses himself to the loo, and Dan is on Bryony instantly. 

“Bry, you didn’t tell me he was cute!” he whines, frowning at her. 

“Didn’t I?” she asks, a sly grin on her face. 

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Ask him out, obviously,” she says dryly. 

“What, with you right next to me?” 

She rolls her eyes, pulls out her phone and begins texting. 

“Grow up, Dan,” she tells him. 

Phil’s only back at the table a few minutes before Bryony’s phone rings.

“Hello?” she says as she answers. It’s followed by a dramatic gasp and an, “Oh no! That’s awful, yes of course, I’ll be right there!” she hangs up the phone and looks sympathetically at Dan and Phil. “I’m so sorry guys,” she says. Dan rolls his eyes and stands up to let her out. He’s received the hey, ring me real quick so i can get out of this situation text enough times to know that what they just heard was absolute bullshit. Still, he lets her walk away before settling into the booth again, opposite Phil. 

“I can’t help but feel,” Phil says, pausing to take a sip of his drink, “That we’ve been set up.” 

“That fucker,” Dan says with a laugh. “Still, no complaints from me,” he adds, giving Phil a bright smile. “I heard you got stood up on a date?” 

“Yeah,” Phil shrugs. “He didn’t show. I think I got trolled.” 

“Well, the night’s still young,” Dan says. “There’s still time for a proper date with me, if you want?” 

“I’d love that.”

[lovebizarreoddities]

If we think of viral challenges, we often think of stupidity at its finest. We also automatically associate them with video sharing social networks. 

However, truth be told, people have always been stupid. And throughout history we have found ways to make that stupidity into entertainment. 

These are the top 5 Viral Before Viral

5.

1930s College Students Swallow Live Goldfish

The story goes, while running for class president, a college freshman swallowed a live fish as a publicity stunt. Instantly, the goldfish-swallowing challenge spread like a wildfire among college campuses overnight.

Some students would boast the effort by garnishing the fish with salt and pepper or even condiments. Some would chase it with milk or cola. But one routine stayed consistent, the fish was required to be swallowed alive.

4.

1920s Pole Sitting

Kids were bored in the 1920s. They didn't get numb and tingling fingers from holding a cellphone all day. They had to find - unusual ways to entertain themselves?

Children in rural America would construct a makeshift seat atop a telephone pole and challenge their buddies to see who could stay perched the longest. 

Some of the kids were so competitive, they would pole sit for days!

3.

Hunkering

Way before planking, our grandfathers were doing something just as stupid, hunkering. People thought it was clever to randomly squat down in public places and snap a photo. It became so popular, a campaign even started to get Eisenhower and Khrushchev to hunker and sort their differences.

2.

Overstuffed Phone Booths

In the 1950s there were no video games and computers. Instead there were phone booths. Young people would jampack their bodies inside public call boxes, seeing how many could fit inside. 

Sounds like fun? Absolutely.

1. 

The Healing Power of Uranium Dirt

In the 1950s, someone thought it was a good idea to sit on a pile of radioactive dirt in hopes to cure their illness. Then someone else was like, "hey, i'm going to have people pay me money to sit on this radioactive dirt". Then lots of people were sitting on radioactive dirt thinking it would cure their various ailments.

[statistically-unlikely-monster]

Secrets No More

Chapter 1: Losing Grip

This is a fic I got the idea for from a drawing I did a while back with Poweredd fighting Monster Tom. Basically the story is going to be about Tom struggling to keep his monster form a secret from the others. I want to keep this fic shorter because the last time I tried to do this I ran out of steam by the fourth chapter and left it to rot. Anyways, hope you enjoy.

Tom groaned as the morning light beat against his eyelids. His head was pounding, like something was trying to break through his skull. Every part of his body felt sore and bruised. He lazily reached for his blanket, but he couldn’t find it anywhere. He slowly pried open his “eyes”, realizing the bed was unusually damp. Looking around, he was not in his bedroom. Instead, he was laying in the middle of a grassy field covered in mud and dew. 

The field looked like it was in the middle of a war. Trees were ripped up from their roots and left in broken piles. Whole patches of grass were missing, all of which forming patterns that looked like claw marks. In front of him was the remains of a smashed gazebo. Much of the rubble looked like it had been scorched. 

Tom was in about the same condition. His checker print pajamas were covered in reddish brown stains that he hoped was just mud. The arms and legs were ripped to shreds, and he could feel wind coming in through holes in the popped seams. Spiky hair laid over his face in a matted mess. He actually plucked a stick out from it.

Tom groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Not again.” He slowly pulled himself up, and stumbled drowsily toward the road.

He was in a park, that much he could figure out. As for how he got there, that was a mystery. Unfortunately for him, waking up in strange places with no memory started to become a weekly occurrence. He had his theory for what was happening, but he didn’t really like what it meant, nor did he want to tell anyone and look like a crazy person. Instead, he pretended he was blacking out from drinking. Easier to explain, much more believable, and honestly not too far from the truth.

Up against the park pavilion was a little phone booth. He had no change on him, but luckily someone was kind enough to leave a quarter on the box. Dialing the number, he ran his story through his head, “Hey Edd,” he muttered sleepily once his friend picked up, “It’s Tom. It happened again. Think you can pick me up?”

Edd was silent on the other end for a few seconds before replying huffily, “Tom, I’m not supposed to be calling people while I’m at work. And I thought you said you were going to stop drinking.”

Tom rolled his “eyes”, “I never said that. You just suggested it.”

“I’m being serious here, you need to stop. I was fine when you were just sleeping around or being rude, but now you’re blacking out and ending up…well, Lord knows where. You’re going to get yourself hurt one of these days.” Edd nagged. His tone was enough to tell Tom he was doing the grumpy mom face he did everytime him or Matt did something stupid.

“Someone’s cranky today,” Tom joked, letting out a small yawn.

Edd took a deep breath before replying in a whisper, “Look, I didn’t mean to blow up, but this is getting out of hand. You know you can talk to me if something’s bothering you, right?”

“Geez, you sound like my mom,” Tom chuckled as he worked the phone cord around his finger. Edd made an annoyed grunt, “Alright, alright, I know, but nothing’s wrong. Honest.”

Edd paused, whispering after a few seconds of silence, “Well, alright, but you need to let me or Matt know. You’re out friend, we want to help…I’ll see if I can get Matt to pick you up. Where are you at again?”

“I’m at the park. The big one with the pond in the middle.” Tom yawned.

“Okay, don’t go anywhere. See ya,” Edd ordered, hanging up the phone soon after.

Hanging the phone back onto the hook, Tom sat under the pavilion and waited around. In the meantime he tried to force himself to remember what happened that night. The best he could get was up to going to bed, and then everything went fuzzy from there. Even without that, he figured it was his transformations again.

When exactly it started was a bit foggy for him, but whenever his emotions got too intense, he would stop being Tom and turn into…well, he didn’t exactly know what to call it. All he knew was that it was big, angry, and hard to control once it was out. Before, it was easy enough to keep hold of. Just drown all emotions in alcohol, and he was fine. But after the radioactive TV dish incident, the alcohol wasn’t doing it’s job anymore. He could be drunk off his rocker and still turn into that thing. And now he was transforming while he was asleep, which meant no good for him or anyone within a 15 foot radius. 

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Matt’s pop music. Looking up, he saw Edd’s car round the corner, all windows down and blaring Lady Gaga. Matt had on a stupid smile on his face.

He pulled up to the pavilion and stuck his head out the window, “Wild night?!” He shouted over the music.

“You have no idea!” Tom yelled back, rounding the car to get in on his side. The seatbelt was broken beyond repair, so he just left it laying across his lap. 

“What happened to you?! You look like you got mauled!” Matt inquired, reaching over to inspect one of the ruined sleeves. 

Tom tugged it away and stuffed his hands in his pockets, “Considering where I woke up, it’s possible!” 

“Huh…must be doing construction or something!” Matt peeked out the window to look at the damage. He shrugged, not being that concerned about it, and went on with his train of thought, “Edd’s pretty pissed y’know!”

“Yeah, he went mother hen on me over the phone!” Tom sighed, adjusting himself to look out the window. “Could you turn down the radio a bit?!”

“Oh yeah, sorry about that.” Matt chuckled, turning down the music as fast as he could. For someone with no license he was doing pretty good pulling back out except coming dangerously close to a tree. “Here, brought some coffee. Helps with the hangover.” He handed Matt a travel mug from the cup holder.

“Thanks.” Tom took a sip, expecting Matt’s typical sugar overload that he would do every time he made coffee. Instead, he got the taste of tap water along with what felt like sand. He lifted up the lid and sighed, “Matt…this is just water with coffee grinds in it.”

“Yeah I broke the coffee maker. If Edd asks, it was the neighbors.” Matt chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. 

The two eventually made it home, surprisingly without a single ticket considering how much Matt was swerving around on the road. Tom immediately locked himself off in the bathroom, ready to shower off the filth and forget the whole thing. He hopped in and let the hot water pour over him. Taking deep breaths, he tried doing meditation like Edd suggested him to do once. For a brief second, he felt at peace, forgetting the world and the fact that he was losing control over his inner monster.

Matt suddenly pounded on the bathroom door. Tom jumped, snapping out of his brief moment of meditation. He knocked over the bottles on the ledge. Bending over to pick them up, he cursed under his breath, and accidentally sent more bottles falling over.

“Hey Tom, I made pancakes for when you’re done!” Matt shouted through the door, “Oh, and I left a clean towel at the door!” Footsteps went back down the hall before Tom could reply.

Tom shook his head with a sigh. Hard to be moody when you got your friend making pancakes for you.

[jasonfry]

Another winter means more time for me to catch up with movies everyone’s seen but me!

Dark Passage (1947)

As a Star Wars author I’ve fielded more than my share of complaints -- some justified, most nitpicky neckbeard stuff -- about plot logic. I really recommend that those folks stay away from old movies, including a lot of ones considered classics.

This Bogart-Bacall film noir has a lot of ardent fans, and I see why. The stars are great, Agnes Moorhead nearly upstages them with a seething performance as Madge, the San Francisco locations are almost a character in themselves, and there are some marvelously evocative shots -- particularly the one where a key character winds up going out of a window.

But wow are there a lot of coincidences, starting with why Bacall’s Irene Jansen happens to be driving around San Quentin when Bogart’s Vincent Parry makes a break for it. Vertigo turned apparent coincidences into a symphony of paranoia and madness; in Dark Passage there’s a fumbly bit of lampshading about them and then you’re just supposed to accept that San Francisco seems the size of a rep stage and characters will act in ways that the plot demands. 

And there’s another whole level of weirdness, which comes to a head in the scene where Bogart’s waiting for a bus to Arizona. He’s still using an alibi that’s radioactive by now, deals with a bus dispatcher who doesn’t know his desired destination is served by the bus line and says the bus will go when they sell more tickets, sits there for a bit character's baffling soliloquy, then puts on the song that’s become a favorite of his and Bacall’s (yes, this bus station has a jukebox) before retreating to a phone booth to call her. At which point she ... asks about the music she’s hearing?

“That’s not how phone booths work!” I spluttered, unable to take it any more. “That’s not how bus lines work! That’s not how alibis work!”

But OK, please complain to me about starships needing fuel. Because that actually is how that works.

Designing Woman (1957)

Speaking of movies that don’t make a lick of sense, here’s Lauren Bacall a decade after Dark Passage, paired with Gregory Peck in a meet-cute rom-com about a hard-bitten sportswriter and an upper-crust fashion designer.  

In other words, it’s a Hepburn-Tracy movie -- in fact, it pretty much could be Woman of the Year. Except Spencer Tracy was believable as a rumpled, man-of-the-people journalist, and that’s a stretch for the perfectly tailored, impeccably dictioned Peck. We first see Peck’s Mike Hagen living the high life on a reporting trip to Beverly Hills, where he meets Bacall’s Marilla Brown. The suave Peck fits so well into that world that we spend the next half-hour trying to catch up as he’s reintroduced to us as a very different character, one ill-suited for domestic life amid Bacall’s coterie of costume designers, choreographers and Broadway types. 

The movie flubs its premise so thoroughly that it never recovers -- I was reminded of its contemporary Let’s Make Love, in which we’re supposed to accept that a renowned New York City tycoon (Bill Gates, basically) can moonlight as an off-Broadway actor and never be recognized. Add in that Bacall’s rage at Peck’s former paramour demands her to be preposterously obtuse while angry about one thing but inexplicably not angry about another. Oh, and playing a boxer’s brain injuries for laughs really, really hasn’t aged well.

Still, the leads are charming, the sets are great, and the candy-colored cinematography makes you want to climb into the movie and live in it. 

There’s also an interestingly subversive subplot: Bacall’s theater pals are all coded as gay, though given that it was 1957 they’re not allowed to actually be gay. Randy Owens, played by the legendary choreographer Jack Cole, overhears Peck questioning his manhood and essentially tells the leading man how thoroughly he could kick his ass. In the film’s finale, Cole does just that, turning dance into martial arts and mopping the floor with various toughs. His character is forced to justify himself with a speech about his wife and football-playing sons, but that’s just a hand-wave for the censors. The real subtext is obvious, electric and way ahead of its time. Too bad it doesn’t have a better movie around it.

To Be or Not to Be (1942)

A farce in which a troupe of Polish stage actors, led by Jack Benny and Carole Lombard, are forced to become real spies during a visit to occupied Warsaw by Hitler. If that doesn’t seem like fertile ground for comedy, particularly for a film released just after Pearl Harbor, well, audiences and critics of the time raised the same point. (As an added complication, the film was released just a month after Lombard’s death in a plane crash.)

But while slight, the movie works as a black comedy, one that mocks the Nazis and their ideology and takes a few well-chosen moments to spit in their collective eye. Lombard’s performance is the best thing about it, particularly her flirtations with a Polish pilot played by a young, sleek Robert Stack decades before he became a fixture of cop shows.  

Weirdly, you can also see the seeds of Inglourious Basterds in it. I guarantee you Quentin Tarantino watched this one night and starting thinking about the possibilities of impersonations while Hitler’s attending the theater.

Wise Blood (1979)

I’m a huge fan of Flannery O’Connor, but would have bet her simultaneously sacrilegious and deeply devout Southern gothic novel about Hazel Motes was unfilmable.

And maybe it is, but John Huston gives it a good run. Brad Dourif (yes, that’s a young Grima Wormtongue) inhabits Motes’s strange skin to unnerving perfection, with Amy Wright and Harry Dean Stanton turning in properly off-kilter performances for him to play off of. And even as the movie wanders, it remains compelling -- I wasn’t sure I liked it, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of it.

The soundtrack, unfortunately, does Wise Blood no favors, barging in with zany carnival music when the movie’s speaking just fine for itself. Still, it’s worth seeing and will stay with you.

[bregee13]

There's no need to fear! Rapoman is here!

Oh wow a fictional character I made for a fictional world! Hooray! 

This is concept art of a superhero I call RapoMan. His secret identity? Well I'm not sure about his name yet... (I came up with Kem Spill. Let me know if that's any good lol)

Backstory? He was a regular Raposa. He's a bit of a timid, clumsy guy. He worked closely with various chemicals. While he is very clever, little to nobody at his job liked him. The people around him just mocked him and pushed him around (he's a pushover). 

One day a handful of his coworkers plotted to try and do experiments on him, in hopes they could change him (or at the very least make a quick buck somehow). After struggling free from his captors, he fell in a puddle of spilt radioactive material. When he got up from the ground, he felt different. He no longer felt weak, he was strong; his vision was perfect; and most importantly, he felt determined to fight against those who wronged him. 

Once he brought his coworkers to justice, he reverted back to his previous self. But every time he sees any sort of criminal wrongdoing, he gains the confidence to turn into RapoMan. 

His abilities? Well, I don't think I should make them too consistent since he's intended to be a superhero character for children (And that he was based on/parodying Superman and Underdog). But I think I should list out some basics.

His abilities include super strength, the power of flight, xray vision, super hearing, and acid spit. And while not technically a superpower, he gains the overwhelming determination and confidence to fight for justice. 

Although he's a superhero, he does have some setbacks. When in his superhero form, he is unable to lie. He is also forced to speak in rhyme. 

The amount of time he is in RapoMan form is limited. If in that form for a very long time, it is possible for his powers to weaken and eventually force him to revert to normal. Under normal circumstances, he'd need to rest in order to turn into RapoMan again. However, it is possible to reset his powers temporarily. If he ingests/ is exposed to the same substance that gave him powers, he will be forced into RapoMan form. (However, doing this results in adding to his exhaustion after it wears off. So he can't just be RapoMan forever. If he tried to do that, he could get really sick and die.) 

Because of his job, he is easily able to recreate the same substance that gave him powers. He can even make it in multiple forms including but not limited to; pills, drinks, and cakes.

It is also possible (Although difficult) to force RapoMan back to normal prematurely. This is done by provoking his fears and insecurities (Most of which lie in his normal day to day life).

This is what I have about RapoMan so far. However there's some things I want to add about RapoMan's surroundings and general existence.

RapoMan is a fictional character in the Raposa world. He has a series of comics, a cartoon, and a bunch of merchandise. (One of my ocs is actually a huge fan of RapoMan, that's why RapoMan exists)

(Speaking of that oc, his name is Lucas. But this post isn't about him. Though I will say that he owns an action figure of RapoMan that had a limited run. This is due to the figure having multiple errors. Including some of it's colors being swapped, as well as one of it's arms being too short.)

RapoMan's comics and cartoons also have a damsel in distress (who I haven't come up with anything for yet). Despite her often being called a 'love interest' for RapoMan, he doesn't see her as more than a friend. 

The people who initially kidnapped RapoMan are recurring villains in the series. (There's other recurring villains, but I didn't come up with them yet).

Sometimes RapoMan is shown to have a sidekick. (The sidekick is very rarely shown in most RapoMan adaptations. He just wasn't that popular. But he has just enough fans to show up occasionally.) The sidekick's backstory? He was a good friend of RapoMan (or rather he was a good friend of Kem), and he (against Kem's wishes) ingested some of the special radioactive substance. After a painful reaction, he ended up gaining powers of his own. Including the ability to shout horribly loud, and the power to generate fire. (While he was originally overly curious, experimental, and understanding; his super form is loud, skeptical, and comes to conclusions too quickly.)

Before the sidekick knew Kem's hero identity, Kem said the substance he sometimes took was either medication, vitamins, or energy drinks depending on how he took it.

Oh! And fun fact! RapoMan likes to take form inside phone booths! And he always destroys them! Telephone companies hate him! But he uses the fact RapoMan doesn't have an address or identity as an excuse!

[tedwoodward]

Schrödinger

Summary: Ted takes Charlotte to a local diner to help distract her from thinking about Sam

Note: inspired by this post

tw for a very brief mention of dieting and wanting to lose weight

read on ao3

“Ugh, seriously? Why does EVERYONE suddenly want coffee at the same fucking time today?” Ted groaned as he walked into the office kitchen to see that a line had formed as a new pot of coffee was being brewed.

“I just need one more cup to get me through these reports for Mr. Davidson,” sighed Paul from the end of the line, twiddling his thumbs on his coffee mug.

Ted rolled his eyes and took a seat at the table. No way was he going to stand around in line with four other people getting coffee in front of him. He was not patient enough for this.

He brought his arm up, checking the time on his watch: 3:48. Huffing, Ted contemplated how much he truly wanted this coffee. Then again, it was an excuse to get away from his computer and the stale air in his cubicle, so he stayed.

He turned his attention back to his coworkers to hear a conversation being continued that he must have interrupted with his entrance. And, boy, was tuning back in a mistake on his part.

“But, no, man, you’re forgetting the timeframe thing. That’s like the whole point of Schrödinger’s Cat. By a specific point not only will the radioactive isotope decay, forcing the poison to kill the cat, but if you leave it in there long enough, the cat’s gonna starve! So if you’re inactive and apolitical for a long period of time, you’re solidifying the fate of the cat.”

“Dude, the ‘whole point’ of Schrödinger’s Cat is that because you don’t know when exactly the decay is going to occur, there is a time when the cat is both alive and dead before you check on it. You’re looking at it the complete wrong way. It’s not talking about whether the cat is gonna survive or not. But either way, it’s not a real cat, so who cares?”

“I’m not saying the cat’s real, I’m saying this works for other situations in addition to quantum mechanics.”

“Okay, yeah, but you’re clearly misinterpreting it. Just find another analogy for whatever you’re saying at this point—”

By the time Ted got his coffee, he was going to explode. If it was possible for your eyes to pop out of your head just from rolling them, Ted would have gone blind the second those two opened their mouths. His loud sighs and glares had done nothing to dissuade them from continuing their nerdy argument. Ted now needed a break from his break.

Leaving the idiots in the kitchen, he decided to take a lap round the office, stretch out his legs, you know. He just so happened to pass by Charlotte as she was on the phone, ending a call. Ted decided to take a detour over to her desk just because it had been a while since he had last bugged her. Not because of any additional reason, no sirree.

He lingered a few feet from her station, sipping at his coffee as he waited for her to finish the call. He might be an asshole, but he wasn’t gonna interrupt a conversation with a client. And maybe he just wanted to look at her for a second. Not in a creepy way, just in a… Ted way. Okay, not like the usual Ted way that is also creepy. Just in a… way.

“Al-alright, well, I love you. And I’ll see you later tonight then, sweetheart.” Charlotte hung up the phone, letting out a deep sigh.

“Y’know, I don’t think you’re supposed to take personal calls on these phones,” Ted said as he sauntered over to her desk, startling Charlotte from her daze.

“Oh! Ted. Well, you know Sam…” She didn’t offer any further explanation. She stared off into space for a moment, looking at nothing in particular, and after a moment she seemed to shake herself out of it. “Well, I better get back to work.” She tried to busy herself, but Ted stopped her by moving even closer to her and setting his mug on her desk.

With one hand on the back of her chair, one hand on his hip, and a foot kicked over the other, he leaned down to speak closer to her ear. “So… no plans after work it sounds like?”

Charlotte glanced in Ted’s direction, “Well, Sam won’t be getting back till late this evening. Sudden extra work-load.” Something felt off, but he tried again.

“Hm. Sounds like you have a few free hours then,” Ted smirked at her, a sly smile spreading across his face.

Charlotte wasn’t meeting his eyes. His smile faltered. Normally she would continue the banter or at least push him away if she wasn’t down for it. Something was wrong.

“Charlotte?” He asked, the amount of sincerity in his voice shocking even him. “Hey, is everything alright?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes, everything’s fine, just fine.” Ted could see her fingers twitching for a cigarette and knew there was an issue she wasn’t telling him about.

“Is it Sam?” He hazarded a guess. “C’mon, you know you can’t lie to me.”

Charlotte turned her chair to properly face him, Ted no longer leaning against her. She slowly brought her face up to meet his eyes, and he could see they were red.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing, but…” she sniffled and looked away. “Oh, well, when I was on the phone with Sam, I-. Oh, this is going to sound crazy, but I—I could hear that… he wasn’t at work. And-and-and I know that’s stupid, because he isn’t always at the precinct during the day; that’s part of his job, but…. And I may just be imagining things, but… I’m not certain he was on duty. A-and I’m pretty sure I heard some… strange music. That kind of modern, young pop music? Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but that’s just not Sam’s music. And I, well—”

“Hey, hey, hey, Charlotte?” She stopped stuttering through her explanation and returned Ted’s gaze. He looked at her for a moment. “So, you think he’s with Her again, huh?”

She looked away. With her eyes closed, she nodded minutely, trying to control her breathing.

“Well, hey. Fuck him, all right? He doesn’t know what he’s missing out on. He’s an asshole anyways. He doesn’t deserve you.” That last part slipped out, and Ted looked away. Charlotte blushed as he tried to sweep that moment under the rug. “You know what? You need a distraction. Let’s grab dinner after we’re done today.” Ted looked at Charlotte as her gaze finally met his again.

This was new. They had never really done anything… non-sexual before. Their relationship to this point had been originally one-sided advances and flirtatious behavior from Ted up until Charlotte out of the blue took him up on the offer. Since then it’s all just been sex. Sex when Charlotte was angry, sex when Charlotte was sad, sex when Charlotte was lonely, sex when Charlotte was horny, sex when Charlotte was bored. There was no romance; you could barely say any part of their relationship was even platonic. And they had never risked going out in public before.

“Dinner, Ted? I’m a married woman, remember?” Charlotte reminded him. “I do not go out on dates with men that are not my husband.” Funny how that’s where she drew the line, Ted thought.

“Nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-no, see I was thinking of going to that shitty diner across from that fancy Italian place on 45. Not a date. Not a big deal,” Ted reassured her nonchalantly.

“Oh… well, I suppose that would be alright. We do have some leftovers in the fridge Sam can heat up when he gets home. But just dinner—”

Ted stopped her before she could lay down any more rules, “Great! I’ll stop by when I’m done for the day.”

And with that, he was gone, grabbing his mug from her desk and throwing up a peace sign as he walked away.

Not a date. Ted wasn’t sure who he had directed that thought to, but it persisted in his mind as he walked away.

The rest of the work day wrapped up soon enough, and their coworkers began taking off. It was only a matter of time before Ted strolled back over to Charlotte’s desk, bag strung over his shoulder.

“Ready?” He asked, glancing at his watch, his put-on air of indifference betrayed by a small bounce in his step.

They were off a few moments later once Charlotte gathered her stuff. Ted led her to his car as Charlotte silently thanked the parking lot for being fairly empty of others. She did not want to attract attention to the fact that she was getting into a car with Ted Richards, the office flirt, who was known to have slept with at least half of the employees at CCRP beginning day one of his employment. Okay, yeah, whatever that would suggest was totally happening, but she still didn’t need it getting around the office.

The drive was uneventful. Charlotte sat stiffly in the passenger seat as Ted drove, her eyes glossed over, staring out the window, and worrying her lip between her teeth, still thinking about Sam. Ted silently acknowledged this but didn’t say anything about it. Instead he talked the entire drive, just rambling on about anything and everything apart from that, starting with those two idiots from the kitchen earlier in the day. Who gives a fuck about Schrödinger’s Cat anyways? You’re not in AP Psych anymore, you’re not tricking anyone into thinking you’re smart. They all ended up at CCRP anyhow, so no one gives a shit.

After a while his ranting died down, and they pulled into another parking lot.

“Alright, we’re here.”

Charlotte shook herself from her inattentive state and glanced up at the building they were parked in front of. ‘Annie’s Diner’, the sign read. She couldn’t recall ever eating there before, but she recognized the name. Still in a bit of a daze, she got out of the car and walked towards the entrance with Ted.

Ted opened the door, letting Charlotte go first (who says he can’t be a gentleman from time to time?), and an easy smile slid onto his face as he followed her into the diner.

He led them to a seemingly specific table inside, and the pair slid into the booth, Charlotte’s attention still clearly elsewhere. She tried to look at her menu, but all she could think about was Sam. Sam cancelling on her. Sam never being there. Sam being with that… girl. Leaving her alone. No, not alone. She’s with Ted right now. Who she has slept with. Multiple times. Who she’s cheating on Sam with. Just as Sam’s doing with Her. How can she feel hurt? What was she doing? What makes her husband’s affair worse than her’s? What kind of wife was she?

“All right,” Ted said, grabbing the menu from her hands, shaking her back to reality. “That’s enough. You’re thinking too much.” Placing the menu back behind the condiments with the others, he took Charlotte’s hands in his own. “Look, we’re here to forget about him, and you’re obviously not doing a very good job at that.”

Charlotte eyes met Ted’s, and she smiled sadly as a sort of apology.

He tapped his hands over hers a few times. “Today, we focus on having a good time, we focus on eating greasy food, and we focus on not overthinking things. All right?” Ted declared, releasing her hands in favor of returning her menu.

At that moment a lovely-looking, older woman appeared next to their booth.

“Why, hello there again, Ted. How are you doing this fine evening?” she asked, obviously familiar with the man.

“Doin’ all right, Miss Julie. About to be even better now that I’m at the best diner in the country,” he schmoozed, grinning playfully up at her.

She smacked him lightly with her notepad, “Oh, Teddy, you really are a flirt. What’re you doing talking like that in front of your friend here?” She playfully scolded him and turned her attention to Charlotte, “How you doing, sweetie? My name’s Julie, and I’ll be serving you today.” She offered a sweet smile, and Charlotte couldn’t help but smile back, no matter how absent her mind was. That kind of pure joy and loveliness was powerful. Charlotte yearned for the time in her life when she was that much of a source of joy.

Alongside some playful banter with Ted, Julie took their drink orders (Charlotte asked for just water at first, but after a raised eyebrow from Ted the orders became one strawberry milkshake for her and one chocolate milkshake, no whipped cream for him) and left the two alone, a small, genuine smile on her face to see him with someone.

Lord knows Ted needed company, and so did the staff at Annie’s. He was a regular and would come into the diner after work twice a week give or take for about a year or so. He quickly charmed his way to the hearts of the entire staff, but behind his flirtatious and cocky exterior they could see how lonely he was. Going every week after work? Must not have anyone to go home to. The staff easily warmed up to him and enjoyed lollygagging by his booth for some fun banter, and they savored the rare true smiles he afforded them (as opposed to the smirk normally plastered across his face during the work day). He seemed to enjoy it as well; they made his solitary dinners more enjoyable, and at Annie’s he found a sense of family.

As Miss Julie retreated, Charlotte had a playful smile on her face at Ted’s slightly-reddened cheeks.

“I thought you called this a ‘shitty’ diner,” Charlotte laughed, “Seems like you enjoy it more than you’re letting on.”

Ted tried to wave her off. “Looks shitty. Heart, and food, of gold, though.” He buried his face in his menu, as if he didn’t have it memorized by that point.

Charlotte giggled some more as she copied him. The two studied their menus in silence, comfortable in the mood that had settled between them.

Moments later, Julie came back with their shakes in hand. “Alright, well I know Ted’s ready, but how about you, ma’am? Any questions for me or are you good to order?”

Truth be told, Charlotte was torn over what to get. She’d been trying to eat better lately, hoping that by some chance, if she lost a bit of weight, it would help her husband care about her again, so initially she had been looking at the salad options. But Ted did say today was about eating greasy food, and she had to be honest, the burgers on the menu looked absolutely delightful. After a glance at her dinner partner she made her decision. Burger it is!

Julie correctly guessed what Ted was getting on her first try (“Honey Barbecue Chicken Wings and a side of tater tots?” “You got it, honey.”) and left to send their orders to the kitchen. Once again the pair sat in silence as Ted unwrapped his straw and swirled it around his milkshake. After a moment, Charlotte spoke up.

“Ted?”

“Hm?” he grunted in response, still playing with his straw.

“Why’d you bring me here?”

This stopped him. Sensing where she was leading the conversation, Ted built up a wall. He scoffed, “Um, for food? Duh.”

Charlotte shook her head and mimicked his earlier move by holding his hand that had been laying on top of the table. His eyes were immediately drawn to where she touched him tenderly. “This place is clearly special to you. Why me? Why am I the one you’re sharing this with?”

Ted stared at their hands a moment longer before taking a deep breath. He glanced up and looked into Charlotte’s eyes, imploring and curious. He squeezed her hand before letting go and moving both of his hands under the table, out of her reach.

“I’m an asshole. I know that, you know that, everyone knows that. I can’t say I even have work friends unless Paul counts, and even then…” he trailed off, catching himself, and getting back on track. “But, yeah. I guess it’s nice to have a place where I can just kinda live. A sorta… home? That sounds stupid. Somewhere I feel appreciated, I don’t know. And I guess I feel safe sharing this place with you. And I wanted you to see it because… I want you to have a place like this too.”

He kept his gaze purposefully away from Charlotte through his explanation, only locking eyes again when he finished, hesitant to see her reaction. He could never tell when he was crossing a line. Where their relationship stopped and became far too close for Charlotte’s comfort. When it felt real, like something she should get from Sam.

But to his relief she was smiling at him, eyes glossy with tears to see another side of him that he didn’t show much.

“That and the fact that I totally owe Annie’s a gold-star recommendation and a new customer,” Ted continued playfully. “It’s the least I could do for them putting up with me all the time. I bug these people with my presence far too often and my patronage can only get them so far.”

“Now, Ted, I’d hardly say calling this a ‘shitty diner’ is a ‘gold-star recommendation’,” Charlotte teased.

“Hey,” Ted quirked his head to the side and winked, smirking at her from across the booth, “still got you here, didn’t I?”

With the playful mood set, dinner continued easily, both parties much more present than they had been previously. Their food came, they ate, and the pair realized how easy it was for the two of them. Their previously-only-sexual and never-before-platonic relationship was working well in this new setting. They could just live and eat greasy food and be really messy and gross and it was fine, preferred even.

As their meal came to a close, Julie brought over coffee for the pair.

They had had a good time. Ted was beginning to think his earlier statement of not having any work friends may be marked untrue after this evening. He glanced over at Charlotte, busy fixing her coffee to her taste. He watched, and an amused grin slid over his face as she poured an obscene amount of sugar into her mug. God, she’s adorable, Ted thought.

Charlotte felt his attention and glanced up, cheeks reddening, embarrassed by her unhealthy coffee preference (although Ted was one to talk if you asked her).

Their eyes met, and Ted was struck speechless. A shy laugh graced Charlotte’s lips as they looked at each other, and Ted nearly swooned.

If they had been in any other situation he would have reacted differently. If they had been in private, Ted would have kissed her then and there, able to cover up his feelings with his libido. If she had not been married, he would have been professing his love on bended knee for the entire world to hear, because, God, she was beautiful and sweet and charming and witty, and fucking Sam didn’t deserve her. He would say those three words, and she would say them back, and their love would be so great even his cynicism couldn’t deny it.

But that was not the case. Even if he did bite the bullet and tell her his feelings, there was no way she would respond likewise. She was married. No matter how she felt. No matter how shitty Sam was to her. No matter how much he wanted to hear it. No matter how much she wanted to say it. She wouldn’t. She’d never leave him.

Instead he caught sight of his balled-up straw wrapper centimeters from his hand and flicked it at her. It bounced off her sweater and into the abyss under the table.

“Wha? Ted!” Charlotte gasped, putting aside the sugar in favor of the wrapper next to her mug.

She only took a second to crumple it up before throwing it at him, which resulted in the wrapper barely flying, missing Ted completely, and falling onto the table in front of him.

Ted laughed at her failed attempt at retaliation. The pair smiled at each other, and the playful dynamic returned.

Ted decided he could live. He didn’t need to hear her confess her love to him. He didn’t need reality to slap him in the face. He could live in blissful ignorance about their relationship. They didn’t need a label. They didn’t need to communicate their feelings. Ted wasn’t sure he would be able to handle that. So he decided to keep it simple. He could believe whatever he wanted about their relationship for as long as he wanted, and he’d be fine as long as he didn’t ask for clarification. He didn’t want to know the truth.

[theloversofmrsunshine]

The President and the Lady, ch 3

When President Jin hears of Lady Go Aeshin’s kidnapping, it takes him a full minute to recover from the white hot rage that runs through him like a thunder bolt, blinding him in its potency. Even Jang-goon, who had the misfortune of being in the room when the news was delivered, flinches at the pure animosity that oozes out of his boss like radioactive heat. President Jin’s eyes flash as he orders in the most frigid voice anyone has ever heard. “Get me the Police Commissioner on the line. Find her last possible locations. Use the hacking program we installed on her phone if necessary. Fetch the footage of all the CCTV nearby. If there’s a vehicle, pull up plates, owner, address, everything. Grid the city, check all the toll booths, hire men to begin a discreet search. I’ll need some armed men in plain clothes.” He snaps, whip-like, in a mad frenzy. When his assistant stands there idiotically, he finally raises his voice to a roar. “Now, woman!” She yelps, nodding and rushing to fetch Mother as she pulls her headset to her head and begins making calls.

The President’s phone rings as his assistant informs him she has the Commissioner on the line. He picks up the phone and speaks clipped tones that would have anyone tucking tail. The force in his voice is enough to even cow the Commissioner, famous for not taking a single gram of disrespect from anyone. Once he hangs up, he pulls on his suit jacket in our practiced move. He checks his reflection once in the mirror and storms out, Jang-goon behind him.

“Where are you going, sir?” he asks, rushing to keep up with the President’s angry strides.

“I must visit Lord Go,” President Jin responds between clenched teeth, gesturing for his driver to fetch the car. The man jumps to his feet and races out, trying to keep in front of his boss. Everyone at the company watches him pass, as an emergency state is announced and the workers are encouraged to disconnect their calls or reroute them to the Shanghai branch. As they do so, Mother takes the stand and explains the following task of each team. They follow President Jin’s directives as the screens switch to show a city grid, call records, CCTV footage from street cameras and the last known location of Go Aeshin according to which cell phone towers her cell phone was last recorded to have been before it was shut off only three hours ago. Jang-goon, ordered to work the cell phone angle to find out what happened, her call history and text messages, must  remain at One Network.

President Jin is forced to tame his temper in the way to the Assemblyman’s house, unwilling to show the fraying pieces of his humanity at the mere suggestion that anyone could dare to hurt what was his. He’d considered kidnapping her himself, of course, to either win her favour or simply threaten Lord Go to pay a ransom for his granddaughter. However, he knew that a woman as sharp as Aeshin would notice something fishy about being kidnapped after having just met him. Worse, Jang-goon had told him Aeshin had anti-spyware in her phone, which neither of them had noticed. Aeshin already knew she was being watched. She also knew it started the day they’d met at the coffee shop. If he touched her, he’d ruin his chances at winning her regard. Additionally, he’d only be able to get a fraction of Lord Go’s riches, instead of fishing the whole pot of gold like he wanted.

And, though he’d never admit it, after seeing the red welt of the burn Jang-goon had accidentally caused on her hand, President Jin had sworn never to see a mark or blemish on her perfect skin. He wanted her as she was. A kidnapping could go wrong in so many ways, President Jin had decided against it. Now, some scum had dared to intrude upon his territory. President Jin would hang every single person involved by their entrails.

When his driver announces their arrival at the Go Family Estate, President Jin pastes his most vulnerable expression and exits the vehicle. Upon being met at the door by the elderly servant, President Jin begins his spiel.  “I heard the terrible news. Is Lord Go alright?” Even if he has to force himself, President Jin is determined to put on his best show yet.

“You’d better come in,” the old man says, gesturing for him to come inside. “It’s given him quite a shock and the doctor recommended no visitors...”

President Jin looks at him pleadingly. “Please let me see him. Perhaps I can be if use to him in some way.” He cajoles, though surprised that he’s being lead inside anyway.

“Lord Go said you’d say that,” the elderly gentleman remarks, giving him a side-eye even through his distress. “He’s through here. Come in.”

President Jin follows him into a study that looks more like an indoor jungle than a workspace. The study is littered with paints, canvases, brushes and pails of many sizes; all interspersed with a multitude of potted plants, trees and flowers. Among this semblance of a mess is a settee, where Lord Go is reclining with a picture in his hands. As President Jin enters, the old man puts the picture aside, looking alert and angry, for all his frailty.

“The Police Commissioner tells me you were most insistent on having a party of armed, plain clothed men at your disposal for a retrieval mission. For the sake of my granddaughter. Have I understood correctly?” the old man gets straight to the point, regal and fine in his prim robe and surroundings. It takes a moment for President Jin to place the familiar scent of this place as an aroma he’d detected on Aeshin’s skin. Of vanilla cigarettes, oil paints and the lush smells of various flowers and plants. He slowly realizes this study must be Aeshin’s.

“Yes, my Lord.” President Jin doesn’t even hesitate. The Police Commissioner tattled on him, but it works in his favour. At least now the old man knows he’s not in the least involved. He may mess with the law, but he’s never been the type to play with fire so openly.

“Good,” Lord Go says, further surprising him. “If you find Aeshin, I’ll sign to become a partner at that company of yours. If you find her alive, I’ll bequeath part of my lands to you.” His voice is firm and decided, leaving President Jin agog.

“You wish for me to save her?” he asks, wanting to make sure.

“Find her, save her, bring her to me; deal with the perpetrators as you see fit.” Lord Go says with finality. President Jin sees the brilliance of this.

Lord Go has asked him to, of his own volition, kill the people who would dare hurt his precious granddaughter. All without even getting his hands dirty.

“I will do as you ask,” President Jin promises, bowing.

Lord Go nods, and says with a forced sort of casualness. “I heard the Japanese sector of organized crime has seen some upheaval.” Realizing the old man is giving him information of whom he suspects is the kidnapper, President Jin bows again to avoid letting the Assemblyman see his predatory smirk.

This old man is exceedingly cruel.

[manic-babbling]

SFA PSA

How to keep your hero identity separate from your civilian identity.

1 - Accessories and jewelry

Don't wear conspicuous jewelry that will be noticed in or out of costume.

We understand if your charm bracelet gives you the power to fly and shoot laser beams from your eyes but if someone who shouldn't know about your identities ends up recognizing your power channel in the form of a pretty bracelet and then points it out, WHAM-O! There goes your disguise, meaning costly relocations and possibly even memory wipes. Even after a memory wipe we have to relocate you to keep memories from resurfacing. This goes for watches, necklaces, rings especially, anklets and earrings.

If it belongs on your costume, it shouldn't be in your civilian wear.

Also keep in mind how hard it would be to take off all of your jewelry and accessories to GO HERO. Wearing a pretty diamond necklace with matching earrings may earn compliments from your friends on a day out, but when it comes down to the spandex and powerboots, are you really going to wear diamonds to battle?

If it's part of your civilian wear, it should not be part of your costume.

It may even be better to forget accessorizing all together. Saves you downtime from changing to a hero and back.

This doesn't mean you can't wear jewelry, superladies. It means think smart before you put on something that can identify you later.

Also, chains, strings and scarves make for excellent nooses. Keep that in mind.

2 - Eyes

If you have strange or easily noticed eyes, in or out of costume, invest in contact lenses or glasses. Combine the two if you have very different eyes. We're not saying it isn't cool or pretty to have electric green or bright yellow eyes, or any other variation, it's just a great way to end up blowing your cover.

If you can't handle contacts, glasses of a minor prescription can help deflect people who might catch sight of your eyes. Sunglasses are fine as well but please think of the current circumstances as well. Are you indoors? Is it night time? If people giving you looks that translate to 'Wow, you're trying so hard to be cool' doesn't bother you, go for it.

If you wear glasses or contacts, or both, keep the cases with you at all times in case of an emergency.

Be safe, if your contacts or glasses are making your eyes burn, or bleed, remove them and call a Supers Federal Agency hero support line. We will immediately move to action.

3 - Bags

If you store your costume in a purse or backpack, make sure you can't accidentally pull it out in front of everyone. It also helps if your friends are suspicious and decide to root through your belongings if they can't immediately discover your hero side. Super-ladies, if you trust your purse with your friends, even for a quick trip to the ladies room, you're trusting them with your keys, wallet, IDs and your persona, even if they don't know it.

If you do stuff your costume and civilian wear into a bag, change bags every so often to keep people from noticing 'oh hey! Marvelous Girl has a pink kitty backpack!'

More heroes have been found out by their matching civilian bags than changing in phone-booths.

4 - Hair style and color

Do you have a signature look? Do you have electric streaks of color in your hair as a hero? Does your hero side's hair have that gravity defying quality? Your civilian side should not. Your civilian side shouldn't have HERO HAIR. Anything recognizable is not good for your civilian persona.

Also, if your hair gets caught in a plane engine's intake system, it is not the plane engine builder's fault. It's yours. Remember, hair can be used as a handhold. Your arch nemesis is not above hair yanking.

5 - Spray on tans, tanning salons and 'oh no! Mask lines!"

The sun exists and will change your skin pigment. Sunscreen can help but tan lines still happen.

If you get a spray on tan or go to a tanning salon, it'll show up in your hero side too. Keep this in mind.

Tanning and unprotected sun exposure causes cancer. Unless you're radioactive, then you already have cancer.

6 - Colds, flus, viral parasites, oh my!

Okay. Let's face it. Some of us have sneezed and set something on fire.

Or blasted something into orbit.

Or frozen something in a block of icy snot goo and now we're getting off topic!

Point is, if you're sick, call into the Supers Federal Agency offices. Not only do we have a trained hero medical staff to take care of you and prevent an outbreak of sniffles and coughs, we can also prevent your friends from coming over with grandma's famous chicken soup and discovering that when you sneeze you have a trigger power.

Anyone remember when Marvelous Girl sneezed and blew her apartment building over like the big bad wolf? No? Just me? Darn those memory wipes.

7 - Don't gossip about hero activity.

Yes, you saved the bank on fourth street. Awesome, great, marvelous.

There are plenty of News reporters to tell the world about your exploits. Pay attention, pay VERY close attention. Did they mention that you dropped a pen that led to the bad guy slipping onto his back? No? Then you shouldn't know this detail as a civilian.

Knowing more than the public is how you cast suspicion onto yourself. Many heroes have lost their persona to "how did you know that? The reporter didn't say anything about that."

It may not be directly leading to the crumbling of your secret identity, but it will make your friends very likely to start 'checking on you' when it's not convenient.

If you slip up, blame another report on the subject. Do NOT place yourself in the situation zone. Even if you were just "passing through!"

Other people can easily prove that you, in civilian form, were NOT on the scene.

Unless you were somehow in disguise, but I doubt anyone would forget the guy in a chicken costume at a bank robbery.

[sizzit]

A little something else:

"Okay. Give me names one more time please."

Bobby rolled his eyes, pointing out each of his friends where they were dispersed across the nightclub floor. He and John had been there for a few hours, sitting at a booth in a corner, shrouded in a hazy mist of smoke and artificial fog. Apparently the smoking ban hadn't quite penetrated the club's defences, which suited John just fine. Bobby had introduced him to his friends briefly, clearly desperate to get him on his own. They had seemed excited to meet him — he had figured Bobby would have spoken about him beforehand, but it didn't seem apparent — he shook hands, made small talk, and allowed himself to be whirled upstairs to a booth where Bobby had spent the night trying — and succeeding — to endear himself to him.

"That's Kyle at the bar, skinny kid with blond hair, looks miserable. That's Peter and Ororo on the dancefloor. No, he doesn't do steroids, and yes she's wearing a wig."

"I knew that was a wig Bobby, she had a mohawk in the Snapchat you sent me yesterday. And which one is Scott?"

Bobby shook his head as he swallowed a mouthful of his drink, "Scott's not here. He doesn't do clubs."

John nodded, "And Hank isn't here either. He's on the sports team, right?"

"Yeah. Honestly, I'm glad he stayed home."

"Why?" John hated to admit it but he was partial to a little interpersonal drama.

"Because there's absolutely no way you'd be sitting here with me if a guy like Hank was here."

"Oh wow."

"Yeah. I'm not sure if he swings like that but you never know. Better safe than sorry."

"I mean, you said Peter swings like that and he's here," he replied, head inclining to Bobby's bodybuilder roommate, who had joined Kyle at the bar. He watched them talk, Kyle's face creased with laughter, and wondered if he looked at Bobby like that. "And yet, here I am. Although, I'm not sure I'd wanna try fight Ororo for custody. She looks like she could beat me up."

Ororo and Peter were going at it on the dancefloor, eliciting both amusement, awe, and anxiety from their fellows. Peter was huge, well over six feet and possibly just as wide. He looked like he had been built in a factory, and Bobby confided in John that he may well have been. Ororo was just as captivating as Peter, and John was a little sad that it hadn't been her working the register that night. Although he wouldn't have wanted to see what Peter would do if he stole his woman.

"They're not together."

"So why are they like that ?"

If they weren't together, John wondered what it would look like if they were, as he had never seen two people dance like that who weren't up in each other's business seven nights of the week.

"I said they weren't together, not that they don't have sex."

"Right. So why is Kyle down there staring at them like a Chihuahua eyeing the mail guy through the window?" Peter had departed, leaving Kyle to whatever sour taste was scrunching his face into a twisted grimace, bringing Ororo some radioactive pink monstrosity in a tall glass. He had one of his own, and John watched their faces as they spoke. They were close, yes, but there was a clear distance, an invisible barrier that kept his hands from her waist, kept her eyes from lingering too long on his mouth. John didn't like to be nosy, but he couldn't help but wonder what their situation is.

Bobby barked a laugh, voice coated in liquor as he spoke — shouted , even — into John's ear, drawing his attention back to the reason he had even come to the bar in the first place. His breath was freezing, somehow, and it sent a shiver up John's back, which he was sure Bobby felt, as his hand had been sitting pretty there the entire night. John shifted against him, moving closer. Bobby's hand slid further around his back, fingertips grazing his hip bones where his jacket had rucked up.

"Listen, you can't tell anybody this, okay."

"Are you really giving me gossip on our first date? You must really like me."

Bobby faltered for a minute, but his flirty smile reasserted itself on his face as he leaned in even closer to John, whisper-shouting into his ear. His lips moved against the ridge of John's ear as he spoke, and he questioned himself as to what exactly he was getting into with this guy. This boy who had seemed so earnest and innocent at the store. This boy who now had him wrapped around his little finger.

Goddamnit.

"Kyle's got it bad for Pete. Won't tell him. Afraid he'll ruin their friendship."

John felt a pang of sympathy for Kyle, mixed with an eye-rolling sense of secondhand embarrassment at his melodrama.

"That sucks."

Bobby laughed again, something in John's disinterested tone clearly tickling him. He freed his arm from behind Bobby's tiny, muscled, waist, turning to fish out his lighter and cigarettes. He lit one up, watching the glow intently to make sure he didn't inadvertently start a blaze. He took a long pull, and let the smoke sit in his lungs for a minute, nicotine on an expressway straight to his brain. He let his head loll back against the seat behind them, eyes focused on the ceiling as he finally exhaled. He was acutely aware of Bobby's eyes on his face — his mouth, his throat — and offered the cigarette to him. Bobby leaned down, eyes locked on John's as he put his mouth to the filter where John held it, letting them fall shut as he inhaled. His mouth held open as he pulled off, tendrils of grey probing the air outside as he held the air in his lungs.

"You think of that one all by yourself?"

Bobby's act cracked a little, a coughing laugh blowing smoke out of his mouth in stuttering spurts, illusion broken. He leaned into John again, arm solid across his shoulders.

Fuck, I could use his bicep like a pillow.

"I might have. Better question is, did it work?"

John answered his question with a hand half way up his thigh and his mouth on his. He tasted alcohol on Bobby's tongue, mixed with some unidentifiable sweetness that seemed to radiate from every part of his body. Bobby's arm shifted, hand cupped around his ass, pulling him close. John ratcheted things up a notch, hand crawling further and further up his pant leg, feeling the coiled strength in his muscles underneath the fabric. Bobby's mouth fell away with a panting sigh, forehead pressed to John's, eyes locked on his hand on his leg. John's middle finger grazed the space in between Bobby's legs, fingernail toying with the rim of his buttons.

"Careful there." Bobby's voice shook a little, and John was proud of himself for being able to pull at the threads of Bobby's little playboy pantomime.

John surged forward with his hand, grinding the heel of his palm into Bobby's crotch as he passed to run his fingernails across his abs and stomach. Bobby's eyelid twitched, and John could hear him choke a moan to death before it escaped his throat. Bobby wasn't letting him have it all that easily, but John knew he had him.

He leaned in, tongue running a line from Bobby's jaw to the lobe of his ear. His voice scratched in Bobby's ear — a metal fork raked across blazing coals — as his hand pinched at his side under his shirt.

"Take me home, Bobby."

Their eyes met again, and he couldn't help but notice the uneasy expression on Bobby's face.

"Shit. Was that too much? I'm sorry. I thought you were into it. We don't have to-"

Bobby's hand gripped his face, cheeks squeezed in between his fingers. He squished his mouth into a pucker, and spoke over him.

"It's not that. Believe me." His other hand pressed John's once more in between his legs, where he wasn't any less interested than before. John's hand squeezed it minutely, to his immense personal joy.

"So what's up?"

"I don't live alone." He jerked his head in the general direction of the dancefloor, "Those freaks live with me. Scott too. He's at home, no doubt waiting up for us in his nightgown with the newspaper. Thought I got away from my Dad when he kicked me out, but then I met Scotty."

Bobby seemed unperturbed by the familial trauma he had just spilled to John, unbidden, so he let it float past, unacknowledged.

"So come to mine, duh."

"I didn't wanna be the one to ask, 's your place dude."

John rolled his eyes, pulling out his phone.

"Suppose I gotta call the Uber, huh?"

See the rest on ao3

[riddlemethisbatboy]

Heyyyy there, how about a fanfic where the reader is seductive af and walks into the Iceberg Lounge (I guess there’s like an event where all of the villains get together???) and everyone is like who tf is she, also Ivy and the reader get along like super GREAT once they meet aNd oh my god how about the reader’s ex girlfriend comes into the lounge and the reader does the smashy thing with a wine glass and holds it to her ex girlfriend’s throat (this is hella long I’m sorry)

Oh goodness, yes. A bagillion times yes you can have that fic! Pretty ladies (that means everyone tbh you’re all gorgeous) rule the world! I hope you enjoy this, and stay kick-ass my dear friend!)

Your cellphone buzzed, waking you from your mid-evening nap. You slid your thumb lazily across the screen, opening up the group message immediately. 

Ivy posted at: 7:00pm

“Party tonight, you going?”

You needed no more of an invitation to know a good time was around the bend. You took your time getting dressed, gotta kill it with girls like them. You crafted your hair into pure perfection, then painted your face with ease. After that you were on your way, checking your phone to see what address had been picked.

As soon as you stepped into the Iceberg lounge, hair curled and sculpted, dressed up in your finest outfit, all eyes were on you. You were very used to the attention by now, loving every minute of it like the queen you knew you were. You located the fiery vixen you'd begun to call your friend. She was sitting in the farthest booth from the door, sipping a margarita and enjoying the night, just as you planned to do. You took your rightful seat beside her, not a word spoken between the two of you. Your eyes met and you nodded your hello, to which she tipped her chalice in response. She glanced at you from the top of the half empty, radioactive green colored beverage. "Want me to order you one," the redhead suggested, already knowing the answer. "Depends on what the price would be," a smirk grew on your face. "Of course I'd like one!"The busty, sort of chunky gal stood, trekked the short distance to the bar, and was back in no time, a drink held firmly in each hand. She sat them down, you grabbed your first of, what would most likely be, many drinks for the evening. Ivy raised her cup to yours, and the two of you cheered to good booze, good friends, and good health. It didn't take much longer for Harl and Selina to show up. They took their seats by the two of you. Harleen beside Ivy, and Selina next to you. The night was coming together slowly but surely, this pleased you.

About an hour into your impromptu gathering, a hand grabs your hair from the booth behind you and rips at it, causing you to slam your head into the wooden brace between both seats. You were furious, instantly you whirled around, your drink still in your shaking hand.

“Who wants to get their ass kicked,” the glass and it's contents shattered chunks of ice and glass hitting your would be opponent.

Your assailant stood there, green and red and salty as hell, “you got a lot of nerve showing your face around here.”

You were furious, your head ached, and any bit of fun you’d begun to have was now sapped from you. You pointed your glass shiv at them, venom pouring from every word. “I’d watch it, if I were you.”

“Kick their butt, (Y/N),” your harlequinesque friend cheered you on, only to be reprimanded by one of your other friends.

“You think you can take me,” their face made you so much more enraged, all smug in the lowlight. “I’ll give you the first shot, sugar.”

The first shot was all you needed, lunging with the speed and grace of a puma towards its prey. You pounced them, gaining a good right hook before jabbing them once with the busted glass handle. Your besties pulled you off before any damage could really be done. In spite, you spat at them, toppled on the floor and shocked at your sudden outburst.

“Thats enough, tiger,” Selina tried to calm you, earning a bit of a meek smile, along with the approval of your other friends. “Let’s get outta here before the cops show up.”

[crtaylorbooks]

The Enemy

Seventh Sunday after the Epiphany  |  Luke 6:27-38

Love your enemies. Do good to those who hate you. So who thought this was a good idea?

Do to others as you would have them do to you. Most of us are good with this one. We can wrap our minds around it, and it isn’t even specific to Christianity — there are other flavors of the golden rule floating around out there. We like the idea, until we realize that “others” includes everybody, including our enemies.

Loving our enemies? It makes no sense. It’s impractical and unproductive behavior. Unpatriotic, one might say. From people in the next booth at the Waffle House to military strategists, everyone will tell you that helping your enemies is not a sound principle.

What we all really want is to discourage, even punish, negative behavior — anything negative toward us, that is. Whether on a personal or a cultural or a national level, we want to intimidate our enemies. Nuke the bastards. Turn their houses into radioactive ash heaps, and you won’t have to put up with them anymore.

Art by Banksy. Stolen from his/her/their website.

And if we are a righteous, God-fearing people — we may substitute the name of our country, people group, or militant bridge club here — God is on our side, right? It isn’t about resentment or petty retribution. It’s now the judgment of a wrathful God upon our enemies. Right?

I confess that I have a list. There are people whom I’d like to see fall through an open manhole cover into a disease ridden sewer to land on the snout of the largest, most evil, ravenous, albino (because that’s weird and more frightening), man-eating, ebola-infected, urban crocodile ever imagined, with only prolonged and ragged screams ever emerging from that darkened pit.

Ok, maybe I’ve spent a little too much time thinking about it, but I’m not the only one.

The gospel message is that we ought not feed the darkness. To a degree, as with the Do Unto Others teaching, we can go along with it, but for most of us the notion that there is something worthwhile in every person loses steam in the face of certain individuals. Hitler is the classic example, but I’m sure we could all name less famous folk, some a great deal closer to us.

James Thurber wrote a story called The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. It’s a hilarious tale of an ordinary man who fantasizes about being extraordinary. A famous pilot. A brilliant surgeon. We laugh, until Mitty’s secret fantasies begin to hit home for us, and then we smile to cover our discomfort.

Most of us have pictured ourselves as heroes, destroying the bad guys. If we’re more passive, we imagine getting the phone call informing us that our enemy is humiliated, or ruined, or dead. And plenty of quiet grandmothers have imagined using a cast iron frying pan in non-culinary and extremely satisfying ways.

Most of us spend too much time thinking about the past. We drag up old resentments, slights, losses, injuries, and we make them into the central plot of the mental play of our lives. The movie plays in our heads relentlessly, and we keep watching, never imagining that we could change the channel. 

Let’s be honest. We don’t want to love our enemies, even if we knew how. That’s the whole point of having them in the first place.

Paul, writing to early Christians in Rome, tried to put some spin on it — by doing good to our enemies, he wrote, we pour coals of fire on their heads. That sounds encouraging, and I can think of at least a dozen people who’d look great with their heads on fire. Unfortunately, Paul didn’t explain the mechanism by which it works, and we remain unconvinced.

Test yourself. Think of the worst person you know, the bottom (or top as it may be) of your list, and then imagine that you were given carte blanche. You could do anything you liked, and no one would ever know — no reprisal, punishment, or rocks to be thrown your way. What would you do?

Me, too. I wouldn’t even have to ponder it very long. It’s why so many of us secretly enjoy the Beatles’ Maxwell’s Silver Hammer.

So what do we do with this Love Your Enemies business? Most of the world’s inhabitants ignore it as dubious advice from a man who ended up crucified by his enemies. See where it got him?

Moby Dick, illustration from 1892 edition

On the other hand, if we do have the inkling (let alone actual faith, but who has that?) that there is a God, or if we consider that we are all connected, or if we can accept that there is something greater than our own personal interests, then we’ve got to consider some possibilities.

For one thing, maybe doing good to our enemies introduces, activates, or confirms some value, worth, and possibly life changing power in their lives. Damn it. Maybe they are our enemies for reasons we do not see — in the movies playing in their heads, we are the ones who acted wrongly or who deserve their disdain. Or maybe they are truly loathsome people — some people are — but the nature of our response can undermine their world view. Maybe.

Another possibility is that doing good to our enemies adds intrinsic value to the universe. There may be other universes, other planes of existence, but here we are in this one. Making our universe a better place is our responsibility. Nobody is going to do that for us.

The best reason may be personal — doing good to our enemies has some intrinsic value for us. Yes, my imagination fails as well, but there it is. Helping another person, particularly when there is little question of reciprocity, has a greater effect on us than on them. It changes our estimation of their value as a person. It shifts the plot of the movie in our heads.

You don’t even have to be a Christian for these ideas to work. Compassion and forgiveness are embraced in many traditions, religious and non-religious ones. Compassion makes us better humans. Empathy and understanding make for more peaceful communities. And it is difficult to put out a fire by adding fuel.

The whole point is to stop thinking of ourselves as separate from everyone else. That’s hard to do, particularly in America, where our entire national mythos is built around the rugged individual.

This Gospel notion, though, isn’t for me, or you, or for that jerk over there. It’s for all of us. All inclusive. This Kingdom of God idea includes everybody, or at least invites everybody. No exceptions, no matter how much we’d like to submit a list of rejects. In Buddhism, the notion of connectedness hasn’t been diluted by western individualism, but Christianity has to reach for it.

We might even find that people we think are our enemies really aren’t. They may not even give us much thought. Of course, that isn’t always the case. There are dangerous people out there. Hate groups. Neo-nazis. Terrorists. Thinking that our response to our enemies is a purely personal act, as opposed to a broader cultural or national one, is also dangerous. It limits our possibilities, and it limits our understanding of our responsibilities. How we as individuals choose to act is important, but we are not relieved of responsibility as members of a community, a culture, a religion, a nation, a civilization.

What does it look like, this doing good to our enemies? A lot of it is obvious. Some of it isn’t.

If I see a person in need and do nothing, am I their enemy? If I see someone being harmed, oppressed, held down, injured by individuals or by society or by some groups in that society, and I do nothing, am I their enemy? Maybe I am.

And religion, particularly Christianity, doesn’t have a good track record on this one. Plenty of Christians used faith based arguments — wrongly, of course — to justify slavery. Today, plenty of Christians use faith based arguments against LGBTQ people — again, wrongly, although this would be an entire topic of its own. How is hatred and exclusion and intolerance furthering the kingdom of God? Even if Christians could manage to justify regarding some people as enemies of their faith, the gospel commands a response of love and of doing good.

Instead, Christianity has often become a bastion of exclusion, intolerance, and hatred disguised as religious observance. That’s not what the gospel preaches, people. I don’t know what label to put on the exclusionary and intolerant form of religion often practiced today, but it isn’t Christianity. It is something else, dressed up in the forms and language and symbolism of the Church.

To put it another way, Christianity has become its own worst enemy. Being excluded by Christians can be harmful, in real and in dangerous ways. Being within the Christian world can also be toxic — we may find that we are our own enemy. And it may be that loving our enemies begins uncomfortably close to home, maybe even inside our own heads.

When we love our enemies, we are reaching. And we’re remembering that we are not able to place ourselves in a different world than they occupy. We’re in this thing — love it or hate it — together, and we need to embrace it. And one another.

Bernard of Clairvaux, in his work On Loving God, concluded that the best and strongest reason to love God is God — love is its own reward. In Luke’s gospel we hear that “the measure you give will be the measure you get back.”

Perhaps that is the reason to love our neighbors, our enemies, ourselves. The love we give is the love we get.

Art by Banksy. Stolen from his/her/their website.

The Enemy was originally published on C R Taylor

[pookystolenkissworld]

#radioprogram #broadcasting #rerun #playlist #music #listening #pop #rock #indie #live #cool #catradioactive #series #funforaday #hipster #shoegazer #anything #modernrock #dreampop #musicoftheweek #newrelease #flashback #worldmusic #jpop #citypop #tribute #legends #soul #blackmusic #classic #opera Cat Radioactive by DJ Wasana Wirachartplee (DJ Ziggy) on every Saturday at 22:00 - 24:00 hrs. (+07:00 GMT) at www.thisiscat.com DJ Wasana Wirachartplee’s Facebook https://www.facebook.com/wasana.wirachartplee Catradioactive 9 Feb 19: Miserable - High Dreams of Empire - Skinny Dipping Hippo Campus - Why Even Try Blue Orchids - The Lad That Time Forgot Camp Cope - How To Socialise & Make Friends Crown of Pity - Bake Sale Ash Code - Icy Cold Jaguar Dreams - Behind Those Clothes TOY - Sequence One Scuba Dvala - Pet King Nun - Chinese Medicine FIDLAR - Good Times Are Over Air Formation - Night Chimes Dayflower - Seeing Up https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XYdyimOioDw&list=PLU62MFne4NxDKZ-jDU-C5hDmOplZdgO-9 Deep Cut — Swimming Against The Tide LUCIA - Cheap Talk MELT — RRRAD She Sir - Ok Tono Omepo https://soundcloud.com/pookystolenkiss/sets/catradioactive-9-feb-19 Fun for a day 130: EPO - 恋のひとひら Southern All Stars - 真夏の果実 サザンオールスターズ Tatsuro Yamashita - Ride On Time Noriyuki Makihara 槇原敬之 - どんなときも。 Round Table feat. Nino - 夏待ち Kenneth Nash - Through The Keyhole Queen - One Year of Love (Extended Version) Ian Brown - Ripples Ian Brown - The Dream And the dreamer Primitive Radio Gods - Standing Outside A Broken Phone Booth With Money In My Hand Primitive Radio Gods - You are the dreamer All India Radio - Lucky All India Radio - The Slow Light Bud Freeman - Sweet Sue (Just You) Commodores - Nightshift Commodores - Sail On Diana Ross & Lionel Richie - Endless Love Ray Parker Jr., Raydio - A Woman Needs Love (Just Like You Do) Thom Yorke - Everything in Its Right Place (Radio 1 Piano Sessions) Freddie Mercury & Montserrat Caballé - How Can I Go On (Live at La Nit, 1988) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dktrYA6vIv8&index=1&list=PLU62MFne4NxD3vGvB-nt4dsDg7ZEa7Rgc https://www.instagram.com/p/Bts0X9RFyn2/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=781daa82l3nk

[laresearchette]

Friday, July 24, 2020 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?: ROGUE TRIP (Disney+) WORLD’S BIGGEST GREAT WHITE? (Nat Geo Canada) 10:00pm ROOM 104 (HBO Canada) 11:00pm

WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT THE GREATEST #ATHOME VIDEOS (CBS Feed) RAVEN ABOUT BUNK’D  (TBD - Disney Channel Canada)

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME/CRAVE/NETFLIX CANADA/CBC GEM:

AMAZON PRIME FRENCH BIRYANI IF YOU GIVE A MOUSE A COOKIE JIM GAFFIGAN: PALE TOURIST RADIOACTIVE (2019)

CBC GEM

CANADA READS 2020 (Arts): Five books enter the debate ring, but only one will emerge the winner of Canada Reads 2020. Ali Hassan hosts this year's battle of the books, which is themed: One book to bring Canada into focus.

CHEWING GUM (Comedy): Tracey Gordon is a 24-year-old religious Beyoncé-obsessed virgin. Growing up through the church, with her strict preacher Mother, she has ended up rather 'underdeveloped' in certain areas - but Tracey wants more. We follow Tracey as she embarks on her journey into adulthood, crashing her way through what she should and shouldn’t be doing.

           YOUNG AND PROMISING (Season 3) (Drama): As we start the season, Elise, Nenne, and Alex are far apart from each other. Elise is single and lonely.

CRAVE TV CRANK YANKERS (Season 5A) MINI! CHAINSAW RICHARD HAROLD AND KUMAR GO TO WHITE CASTLE   PHONE BOOTH THE CHANGE-UP THE LAST FULL MEASURE THE STING ROOM 104 (Season 4, Episode 1) LAST CHRISTMAS PORTRAIT OF A LADY ON FIRE

NETFLIX CANADA ANIMAL CRACKERS ¡A CANTAR! (SING ON! SPAIN) DRAGONS: RESCUE RIDERS: SECRETS OF THE SONGWING THE KISSING BOOTH 2 OFRENDA A LA TORMENTA SING ON SPAIN

KOREAN BASEBALL (TSN4) 5:25am:  LG Twins vs. Doosan Bears

MLS SOCCER (TSN5) 12:00pm: Toronto FC vs. DC United 8:00pm: Sporting KC vs. Colorado 10:30pm: Real Salt Lake vs. Minnesota

MLB BASEBALL (TSN/TSN3) 4:00pm: Atlanta vs. Mets (SN/SN1) 6:30pm: Jays vs. Rays (TSN) 7:00pm: Brewers vs. Cubs (SN1) 9:30pm: San Francisco at Los Angeles

BUILDING OFF THE GRID: KILLER VIEWS (HGTV Canada) 8:00pm:  Two families decide to simplify their lives; a family builds a dream home overlooking the Atlantic Ocean in Lubec, Maine; snowboarder Sean Busby and his wife, Molly, build an off-the-grid house with stunning views of Glacier National Park.

WATTS ON THE GRILL (CTV Life) 8:00pm: Chef Spencer Watts shows his sweet side with four decadent desserts.

MISTER WINNER (BBC Canada) 9:00pm: The wedding day is finally here. They're getting married at a castle in the countryside - all Leslie has to do is get there on time, in one piece, and not ruin anything.

PORTRAIT OF A LADY ON FIRE (Crave) 9:00pm:  In 1770 the young daughter of a French countess develops a mutual attraction to the female artist commissioned to paint her wedding portrait.

THE LAST FULL MEASURE (Starz) 9:00pm:  Airman William H. Pitsenbarger Jr. is awarded the Medal of Honor for his service and actions on the battlefield.

FRIDAY NIGHT DINNER (BBC Canada) 9:30pm: The boys are threatened with no crumble if they don't help to assemble a wooden shelf, while Jim's dog Wilson keeps doing his 'dollops' in Mum and Dad's flowerbed.

CBC ARTS: EXHIBITIONISTS (CBC) 11:00pm: A taste of some of the best and newest arts series, from dance to drag.