#dave describes harry as

[personinthepalace]

From Harry Kershaw’s Tell Us In Ten article for Official London Theatre

[joekeeryswife]

Outbreak Day - J.M

a/n: hello angels! reader is 26 and pregnant and Joel is 36. there is a little twist 😵 best way to describe this imagine is that it’s sad, long and has a shitty ending lmfao. okay anyways, enjoy reading 🫶 please send me in some fluffy requests and some dad! joel requests too!!

big trigger warning this imagine is very gory and descriptive!

“Sarah honey, is that you?” you turned to look at the front door and saw your step daughter Sarah coming home from school. “hey mum” she said as she set her backpack down on the floor. “how was school?” you walked toward her and gave her a small hug and a kiss on her forehead.

“was good. got dads watch fixed but everyone acting weird, cops everywhere, shops closing early. i don’t know just weird” she said making your heart pound a little, you didn’t know why but hearing her say that scared you but you tried not to dwell on it too much. “yeah well it’s probably just people being stupid. we shouldn’t worry too much okay?” she nodded but then groaned making you frown.

“dad told the Adlers i’d go over there to help them make cookies” she sighed, it wasn’t that she didn’t like the Adlers it was just she wanted to spend time with you and her dad as it was his birthday. “look, go there for thirty minutes then say i need you home, i don’t mind you blaming me.” she smiled and thanked you.

“i was going to make your dad a cake but we don’t have the ingredients and i was too tired to go food shopping so he should be brining one home, he’s going to be home earlier today as well” her eyes lit up as you spoke “is it a chocolate cake?” she asked watching you nod. “i didn’t tell him it was because you have been craving one i told him it was because i was” Joel hated chocolate cake but for his girls he’d do anything to please them.

“thank you mum, you’re the best. i owe you one” she said as she turned to go out the front door again to the Adlers house. “no worries honey, if Mrs Adler bakes chocolate chip cookies please bring me one, the baby is craving them like mad” you said as you rubbed your growing stomach. she nodded and said her goodbyes before leaving to spend the worst 30 minutes of her life with the Adlers.

-♡-

“hey baby girl. how was school?” Joel asked as he finally got home, four hours later than expected. “you’re late” she said, completely ignoring his question as her eyes shifted from the TV to him. you had both been waiting for him on the sofa watching Harry Potter and you had fallen asleep not even halfway through the movie. being pregnant had made you extremely tired so it wasn’t a shock to Sarah when she saw you put a blanket over yourself and curl up into a ball on the sofa within the first 10 minutes of the movie playing.

“i know, im sorry. work has been crazy, guys calling in sick, it was just me, uncle Tommy and Dave in today. i meant to phone mum but my phone died” he said as he made his way over to the two of you. his heart melted when he saw you sleeping next to Sarah, you’d never looked cuter. “its fine, we had fun without you anyways” he lifted up your feet so he could sit between you both, careful to not wake you up in the process.

“did you at least get the cake?” she said shyly as Joel got comfortable on the sofa. “oh shit” he put his head in his hands “im sorry honey i completely forgot” she nodded, understanding that he obviously came straight home as soon as he finished work. “mum is probably gonna kill you. she wanted cookies earlier from the Adlers but they were making raisin instead of chocolate chip so i didn’t even bother asking if i could bring one home for her” Sarah said and Joel wrapped his arm around her shoulders, his other resting on your legs.

“i’ll get you guys a cake tomorrow, i promise it just completely slipped my mind” she shook her head, indicating that it was fine and she understood he was stressed. Joel felt you stir and you woke up, your hair all over the place and your bones cracking as you stretched from a very good nap. “hi baby” Joel said softly as you looked at him.

he unwrapped his arms from Sarah’s shoulders for a moment so he could give you a hug and a kiss. “i miss you so much” you said as you sat up so you could rest on him instead of the arm of the sofa. “i missed you too. how are you? how’s the baby?” you nodded, still half asleep.

“fine, kicking like crazy” you were only six months pregnant and your unborn daughter was already giving you a hard time. you rested your head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around both you and Sarah, pulling you both into him. “did you bring home the cake?” you asked making him sigh “no, i’m sorry baby, i forgot” you shrugged, eyes closing again as you tried to fight sleep but it was no use.

“i love mum so much but she could have slept through world war 2 and not have been disturbed at all” she said making Joel laugh quietly, trying not to wake you up. to be fair, carrying this baby had knackered you out and he understood that you needed sleep but sometimes you would be halfway through a conversation with him when he got home from work and you’d be falling asleep whilst you were taking. “to be fair, you aren’t wrong there” he ran a hand through your hair gently as he admired you, you were stunning and he loved you so much.

“anyway, let’s try spend some time together tonight, let’s put on a good film, this is shit” Joel said making Sarah scoff and look at him “that is a lie. Harry Potter is the best” he shook his head. “take it back or you work get your present” she said making him gasp. “you wouldn’t dare do that” he said to her, making her give him the ‘try me’ face which made him quickly change his comment and apologise to her.

she grabbed the box off of the coffee table and handed it to him. he unwrapped his arm from her yet again to try open it with one hand without waking you up. he opened the box and saw his now fixed watched that had been broken for three months. “aww baby that’s so sweet, thank you” he kissed her forehead and tried to put the watch on but failed miserably making Sarah help him put it on. “okay now we can watch your stupid old film dad but don’t expect me to stay awake” she said as they both got comfortable again “i wouldn’t dream of it” he smiled at her.

-♡-

green and blue flashing light woke Sarah up from her sleep. she looked around the room confused, she had somehow ended up in her bedroom and didn’t hear any noise in the house. she sat up as she heard helicopters fly over the house and car alarms go off. she quickly got up calling out for Joel as she walked around the house but she only found you in bed asleep, no sign of Joel.

she felt awful waking you up but she had no other choice. she crept to the side of your bed and shook you awake. “mum, can you wake up please?” you jumped awake when you felt her hand on your shoulder. “what’s the matter sweetheart?” you asked but your question was answered when another helicopter flew over the house. “what the hell?” you said sitting up quickly.

you grabbed your phone which was on the bedside table but there was no service. “what’s happening?” Sarah asked as you quickly got dressed out of your pyjamas. you were going to go outside and you didn’t want your neighbours, if they were awake, to see you in your pyjamas so you put on a tracksuit before walking downstairs. “i don’t know baby”

you turned on the tv and heard the broadcast ‘stay home, do not let anyone into your house. we will post more instructions soon’ you frowned, what the fuck was happening? you checked your phone again, this time trying to phone anyone, your mum, your dad, your brother, Joel and nothing. no calls were going through.

the two of you jumped at the sound of Mercy, the Adlers dog barking at your front door. Sarah quickly put on her shoes and went outside to retrieve the dog and you quickly followed, slipping on your trainers. “Sarah i don’t think we should go outside yet. we should wait for your dad” but she ignored you. she walked outside, bringing Mercy with her to take him back home making you follow after her as quick as you could.

“Sarah please come back inside” you said but the curious girl went inside the Adlers house after she heard a glass breaking. “no Sarah don’t go in there” you sighed, you loved that girl but she did not listen. Sarah was quiet walking into that house, making sure to not make any sudden movements as she did. the noise was coming from the kitchen and she quickly made her way there and almost screamed at the sight infront of her.

you were right behind her, you felt sick to your stomach as you saw Mrs Adlers mum chewing on her daughter’s neck with some sort of fungus growing out of her mouth. your eyes widened and your heart dropped, what the fuck was going on? the once disabled old woman looked up at the two of you and quickly stood up screeching and running after you when you told Sarah to run.

you weren’t as quick as you used to be but you were luckily quick enough the run away from this infected woman, she had fallen over the crinkled carpet giving you enough time to escape. “Sarah we need to get back in the house right now” you shouted as you grabbed her hand and tried to pull her into the house but as you did Joel’s truck pulled up.

“get in the truck right now” Joel shouted at you both, he sounded scared and he was never ever scared. this made you feel even more sick than before. he had a wrench in his hand and he quickly pulled the two of you behind him when the screeching sound approached you again. you all looked at the front door to see the elderly woman fall over the steps of her front porch.

Tommy got out of the car with a huge rifle in his hand making your eyes fill with tears, you were absolutely terrified but you didn’t want to show Sarah that you were scared, if she saw that she would feel even more frightened then she already was. you grabbed ahold of her hand and tried to pull her into the truck but she wouldn’t budge. it was like she was frozen in fear.

the old woman’s head shot up, her eyes were black and she started crawling towards you then she stood up and ran towards Joel and Tommy. “what are we doing Joel” without a second thought Joel cracked the wrench on her head making her fall to the floor. you and Sarah both gasped at what he had just done. Joel was never a violent person and this had shocked you.

he dropped the wrench and they both turned to look at you and Sarah. both of your faces were filled with fear and Joel quickly pulled Sarah into him “you killed her” she said, voice filled with fear “i know baby i’m sorry” he kissed her forehead and looked at you. you couldn’t believe what you just saw. you were confused and scared. “we gotta go” Tommy said making you all quickly get in the car.

you were sat in the back with Sarah who hugged you closely “it’s alright honey, it’ll all be over soon i promise” you whispered and you rubbed your hand up and down her arm, trying to comfort her but also trying to comfort yourself. you could feel the baby kicking vigorously “are you okay y/n? you aren’t hurt are you?” Joel asked as he looked back at the two of you. you just shook your head.

you didn’t know why but all this fear made you wish you were back to being a little kid, wishing that your mum was there to comfort you when you were scared yet now you were the adult comforting your child and you didn’t know if you would ever even see your mum again.

“dad-” Sarah said but Joel quickly cut her off “i don’t know” he said like he knew what she was going to ask him. “they’re saying it’s a virus, some kind of parasite” Tommy added making Joel look at him. “does it come from terrorists?” she asked making Joel repeat himself “we don’t know”

“are we sick?” she asked and this time you answered “no, none of us are sick” Joel nodded “of course not” he sounded mad but you didn’t know what at. “why were they blowing things up?” her eyes were filled with tears as she asked all these questions.

“no idea, there’s no phone, no radio” her eyes darted between Tommy and Joel “how do you know?” she asked, voice laced with concern “what?” Joel looked back at the two of you, cuddled up together with you trying to act your calmest but he knew you, you were freaking out.

“how do you know we aren’t sick?” she was practically crying now. “they’re saying it’s mostly people in the city, that’s why they have the highway blocked off” Tommy said but he was quickly silenced when he drove past a burning house of one of his friends.

“the Adlers would take nana to the city, so that’s why they were sick?” Joel nodded “your right, that’s probably why” his thick texan accent was filled with concern but he tried his best to stay calm. “we are going to be fine, trust me” Tommy said but he sounded unsure of what he had just said.

he drive around the corner and quickly slowed down when he saw a small family. “what are you doing?” Joel asked and Tommy just shook his head “they have a kid Joel” Joel quickly cut him off. “so do we, are you forgetting that my wife is pregnant?”

“Joel Tommy is right, they have a kid we should help them” he turned back to you “no, we don’t know them. keep driving Tommy” he’d never spoken this was before and this was definitely not the Joel you knew. you just prayed that whatever this is would go away and you could go back to your normal lives.

-♡-

you were driving through the town, planes flying low, catastrophe everywhere and you were just scared. “right keep going down this way” Joel said as Tommy drove down a side road leading to a whole group of people who were fighting and running away from the danger. “keep driving Tommy” Joel said even though there were people everywhere.

“are you kidding? Joel i can’t just drive through a whole group of people” Joel cut him off shouting “just keep going damn it” cars were crashing into each other, the sounds of people screaming made your eyes fill with tears. the next thing you knew the cinema doors cracked open with a lot more people coming out of it, all of them crying.

“shit” Tommy said as he quickly stoped the car “go go, fuck Tommy go get out of here” Joel said as he looked behind him out of the truck and slammed his hand on the dashboard “i’m going, i’m going” Tommy started reversing back, careful to not hit anyone in the process.

Sarah looked out the back window and so did you, seeing the huge airplane falling rapidly toward the floor. “Tommy, you need get out of here” you shouted as the plane darted toward you. “fuck Tommy go now” Joel shouted but it was too late, the huge plane crashed on the ground exploding into a million pieces.

the huge flame almost blinded you, you felt sickened at the thought of all those people on the plane that didn’t even stand a chance. “oh shit” you heard Sarah say as a huge chunk of the plane crashed into you car and then your whole world went black.

-♡-

“y/n” you felt someone’s hand on your shoulder as you awoke from the darkness “y/n honey we need to get you out, can you get out slowly for me angel?” Joel’s soft voice filled your mind as you sat up, a sharp shooting pain went right through your stomach making you groan. “my stomach is killing me” you said as you put a hand on your belly. you looked out the window and saw Sarah sitting on the floor and Joel crouching next to where you were sitting.

“don’t panic, it’s probably nothing okay?” Joel’s heart dropped when he heard you say that, a pain in your stomach was never a good sign especially when you are pregnant. “can you get out sweetheart? or do you need help?” you just nodded and started making your way out of the car.

once you had gotten out of the car you stood next to Sarah and saw Tommy was on the opposite side “we gotta get off of the street” he said as you stood up right, you right hand still back on your stomach hoping to feel any sign of movement. “Sarah can’t walk, i’ll have to carry her. do you think you can walk?” you nodded again. “shit” you heard Tommy shout as a police car crashed into Tommys now ruined truck.

the car set alight and you were lucky you even made it out of the car that quick before it crashed otherwise you would have been dead and you wouldn’t have wanted your family to see that. “Tommy” Joel shouted as he tried to see Tommys face through the flames. “i’m okay, head to the river and i’ll meet you there” with a simple nod Joel picked up Sarah and pushed you behind him.

“stay close okay?” he gave you a quick kiss before you both started making your way through the side roads trying to find a way to the river. the two of you stopped once you saw a group of bodies with people eating them. “what the fuck” you whispered as you saw this horrific sight in front of you. one of the people shot up, looking at you twitching weirdly.

“go” Joel pushed you in front of him and you both started running through a random cafe. the man chased you, snarling and screeching as he followed. you could hear the man tripping over different things but you didn’t dare look behind you. you could hear Joel comforting Sarah who was now crying as you finally made it outside but you didn’t stop running until a gunshot filled the silent field.

you and Joel both stopped, turning to look back and the now dead body in front of you. “don’t move” you heard someone say next to you as a bright light shone on the three of you. “my daughters hurt her ankle and my wife is pregnant” the man lowered his gun and started talking to his radio “i’ve got three civilians by the river, one of them injured, one pregnant”

you couldn’t make out what the other person was saying but your thoughts were cut short when Sarah spoke up “what about uncle Tommy?” she questioned Joel just shook his head “i’m gonna get you both safe first then i’ll go back for him okay?” she just nodded and you all looked back at the masked man. “yes sir….. yes sir”

he raised his gun “we are not sick” Joel said as the man approached the three of you. “sir, i said we are not sick” with that the masked man shot a round of bullets and Joel heard you and Sarah scream. you all rolled down a small ditch and Joel quickly turned to look at the man who was now approaching him with his gun raised. “i’m sorry” he said but before he could shoot Joel another shot was fired, killing him instantly.

he looked up to see Tommy with his gun raised, he had never been so happy to see his brother in his whole life. “are you okay?” Tommy asked Joel who was just grazed by a bullet and Joel just nodded but Tommys eyes shifted to you who was covered in blood and gasping for air. “oh god” he said making Joel turn around to look at you.

all you could do was feel a throbbing pain in you stomach. Joel quickly got up and ran to you and Tommy made sure Sarah was okay and turned her away from you. he knew Joel wouldn’t want her seeing you like this and it was bad enough he had to see you like this. “no no it’s okay” he could see the blood soaking through your jumper, the once grey colour was now a soaked dark red and it was growing by the second.

“you’re okay, move your hand honey” Joel said once you’d moved your hand, putting pressure on the wound. you cried in pain as you still gasped for air. “i know i know im so sorry sweetheart i am” he said and he pressed harder on the wound to stop it from bleeding out more. you managed to speak through your pain as you grabbed onto Joel’s arm “go” he shook his head.

“go Joel, take” you took a few more deep breaths as you tried to calm yourself down “take Sarah and go” he just shook his head again. “no, i’m not leaving you like this. i can get help and you’re gonna survive this” he said, his eyes filling with tears as he saw your tired but pained expression.

“you know how much i love you, i don’t” you closed your eyes as you breathed deeply again “i don’t want you seeing me like this” you stuttered out. you felt a tear roll down your cheek as you realised what was about to happen to you. “meeting you was the best thing to ever happen to me” you could hear Sarah sobbing next to Tommy and you hated that she was even watching you, laying there covered in blood.

“i’m sorry” he said as he sat down next to you, he took the pressure off of your wound and you were grateful he had given up, there was no way you were going to be able to survive this and you didn’t want to prolong it. you just shook your head at his comment. “don’t-”

you felt pain all over your body but you felt tired, so tired that you wanted to sleep desperately. “i love you, i love Sarah. just take her and run okay?” he had tears now rolling down his cheeks, his bloody hand now stroking your cheek softly. “im not leaving you here on your own” you just smiled at him. you knew he wouldn’t leave but you wanted to save him from the trauma of seeing you go.

“i know” you looked at him and he kissed you, one last for however long he has left on this earth. “i love you so much” you heard him say and with that your eyes closed. he sobbed quietly, you were gone and nothing was ever going to bring you back.

you were carrying his unborn child and he wished he could go back in time and taken the bullet instead of you. you were this ethereal soul who didn’t deserve to die this way and he hated it. he hated it so much. he tried his best to calm himself down as he took your wedding ring off of your finger and put it in his pocket hoping to keep it safe. it wasn’t like someone was going to steal it but he took it off so he could have something with him that was yours.

he kissed your forehead and carefully placed your body back on the floor and turned toward Sarah and Tommy, he had tear stains on his cheeks but his expression was neutral. “let’s go” he said, he was emotionless “dad, we can’t just leave her-” he cut Sarah off “i said let’s go” with that the three of them left and never looked back.

[jeewrites]

🌈 Sunshine & Rainbows 🌈

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader Equalizer 2 AU: What if Dave survives the fall from the watchtower?

WC: 10.1k (whoopsies) Rated: Explicit, minors do not interact

Content/Warnings: Dave is divorced from Carol (no kids), reference to previous smut, Dave gets a few nicknames, reader is also an assassin but sassy, reader has a nickname and hair that can be pulled, mention of traumatic injuries to Dave, medical jargon, discussion of physical therapy, stalking/murder/torture not described, please remember I had to google “How to preserve an eyeball” for this fic, is murder a love language?, arson, treadmill hate, use of daddy just once, no y/n

A/N: My first Dave fic and my first fic challenge! I got ‘amnesia’ to pair with Dave for @burntheedges's Roll-A-Trope Challenge! I had so much fun trying to wrap my head around Dave as someone who leans towards fluff and feels, so I hope you enjoy my take on our favorite murder daddy. Thank you to @bloviating-vy for being the best beta-reader and encouraging me to write fics in the first place. Dividers by @saradika-graphics. Roll a Trope Masterlist

It’s the pain that wakes him. Every part of his body screams. The tight stretch of skin, itchy and hot. Bruises to the bone. Bones shattered. The sun shines too bright despite the curtains. The increasing beep of the monitor is too loud. How is it possible to hurt like this?

He hears the shuffle of footsteps and the murmur of voices just above the screaming of his body before a shadowy figure appears. He can sense them to his left, but not see them. Is this how he dies? Drowsiness steamrolls him and he slips back to a blissful drug-induced unconsciousness.

It’s been 48 and a half hours and no check-in from Dave. You stare at the burner phone, willing it to beep or ring. Anything. But there is no text. No call. Just the flick and snap as you flip the phone open and close.

Dave has never, ever missed a check-in. Has he come close to the 48-hour deadline after an op? Sure. But never late. And never this late.

You’re not exactly in panic mode yet because it’s Dave, one of the most ruthless and effective killers you know. But you can’t help the anxiety starting to build in your belly and another feeling you can’t quite pin down. It’s not like you love him. But god isn’t he a good fuck, perfect for blowing off steam between covert ops. 

And he understands what you do. He understands you and you understand him. Plus, he was the only one who ever almost got a jump on you when a client hired both of you without telling one about the other. That was almost a clusterfuck that ended up being the best fuck of your life.

The burner phone stares back at you, silent. Fuck it. Now it’s time for you to do what you do best. Find people. Find Dave. 

The doctor keeps calling him John — as in John Doe. While he can’t for the life of him recall his name, he knows definitively, John is not his fucking name. He’s also tired of talking. He doesn’t have any answers, just more questions piling on top of the questions the doc, a psychiatrist, keeps lobbing at him. Everything still hurts, a dull, perpetual throb throughout his brain and body punctuated by acute pain if he happens to breathe wrong.

He’s in a different building since the last time he awoke in crippling pain. This place seems like a public-run long-term health care facility out in the boonies instead of the large hospital downtown he was in before. The doctors and other health care professionals seem harried and perpetually understaffed. While his room is relatively clean, the decor is dated, all the walls a sickly yellow or green. And everything smells strongly of disinfectant. It could be worse, he supposes, at least it’s clean here. 

The psychiatrist leans forward towards him, “Let’s call it a day and let you rest. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

He grunts in response.

Something in his gut tells him to be wary of this doctor, of sharing too much if he ever remembers a goddamn thing. He knows he can trust his gut when it comes to reading people. Watching a steady flow of doctors, nurses, aides, social workers, and janitorial staff in his room, he doesn’t know how he knows, but he knows when someone is trustworthy or a threat. He can read body language at the most minute level with startling clarity.

The head nurse Kathleen is no nonsense and won’t tolerate any bullshit. Nurse Sally does the bare minimum and has sticky fingers. Gotta keep an eye on that one. He likes the neurologist who doesn’t sugar coat things. He’s pretty sure his physical therapist, Ryan, is secretly a sadist.

The night nurse, Brian, is a steadying comfort, always checking on him, “Doing all right, boss?” in the quiet loneliness of the evening. Brian alleviates the pressing annoyance of not knowing his own name by constantly switching up nicknames for him. Calling him buddy, champ, or hot stuff much to his amusement. 

He also knows someone tried their damndest to kill him and make it hurt in the process. Gouged out left eye, stabbed between the ribs, sliced tendons, broken bones, internal bleeding, wrapped in a myriad of bruises and tossed from a significant height. He’s been told repeatedly what a miracle it is that he survived at all, washed up on the beach on the brink of death before being found.

For now he bides his time, giving his body the opportunity to heal and recover. He knows he won’t get far in the current condition he’s in after the multiple surgeries and months and months in the ICU. In physical therapy he can barely manage to walk a few steps without assistance, and he’s still adjusting to the eye patch and the use of his remaining eye. He’s relatively safe for now, he thinks, identity a mystery and off the beaten path. Although a small part of him wonders why no one has come to find him. Did he not have family, friends, or anyone who missed him? 

Dave doesn’t make it easy on you to find him. Of course he doesn’t. Before he went private, or over to the dark side he liked to say, he made sure to replace all of his biometrics in various government databases with false ones. You have to go old school and retrace his steps from the sparest details he did share with you. Brant Rock the text message had read.

You find Resnik, Ari, and Kovac in the local morgue shortly after the hurricane blew through. Kovac and Ari are identifiable easily enough, but Resnik takes a moment, having most of his face blown off. It’s a shame about Kovac and Ari, they were good enough guys and you didn’t mind working with them on occasion.

But that bastard Resnik had once joked, thinking you were out of earshot, what a good fuck you’d be and you were so vulnerable with only the four of them around for miles and miles. You had slid the safety off your weapon at the same time you heard Dave threaten to rip his balls off through his throat if Resnick dared to try anything with you. You were planning to do worse, but hey, it was the thought that counts, right? That was when you knew you could really trust Dave. Resnik, not so much. 

As you approach the next cold locker, for a moment you can’t breathe, suffocating in the thought that the next body you pull is going to be Dave. But to your immense relief, it’s not Dave. Dave isn’t in any of them. It’s not until you slip out of the morgue into your car a few blocks away that you realize you’ve been holding your breath. You allow yourself to sob, forehead against your steering wheel. Crying, such an unfamiliar sensation. Where was he?

It takes you nearly two weeks to find Dave. Listed as a John Doe at the big trauma center downtown, you disguise yourself as a nurse and sneak into his ICU hospital room late one night. Nothing prepared you for his condition. 

“Did Mac do this to you, Yorkie?” you whisper as you trace your fingertips along the ashen skin of his forearm. It seems like the only part of him that is uninjured. The only sound in the room is the hiss of the ventilator and soft beeping of the heart rate monitor reminding you he’s actually alive. Barely. He’s unnaturally still for a man always on the move. You gasp softly when you take in his face, his beautiful face marred with wounds and a patch covering his left eye. Your chest tightens as you turn away to collect yourself.

Refocusing, you pull up his chart. The more you scroll, the more your rage builds at Mac or whoever did this to Dave. Your Dave. Severed tendons and ligaments, shattered ribs, crushed vertebra, multiple stab wounds, ruptured spleen, so much internal bleeding it’s a miracle he’s even alive. What the fuck happened?

He is in no condition to be moved. No matter, you think. While he heals, you are going to hunt down who did this to him and exact revenge. Excruciating revenge. Before logging out of the system you program it to send you any alerts to changes in his condition or if he’s moved to another facility.

Before you leave, you take one last look at Dave, gently run your fingers through his soft brown hair, marveling at how peaceful he looks despite the myriad of tubes plugged into him. You almost make it out of the room without shedding a tear until you really see his nose. Broken, shattered, scarred. Even if you don’t love Dave, you love his beautiful, strong aquiline nose. The way he’d nuzzle it into your neck in rare, soft moments. Press it against your mound when he pulled pleasure from you over and over. The quiet moments after you were both sated and sleepy, and he’d let you trace his brow, the strong curve of his nose, his plush lips, as he anchored you against him.

You are going to fucking destroy whoever did this to him.

The doorbell footage at Dave’s apartment confirms that Mac is the culprit behind Dave’s injuries. 

The Robert McCall visit. The tense conversation outside with Dave and his guys and Robert. The false cheerfulness, the underlying tension bubbling underneath in the clench of Dave’s jaw, the threat from McCall to Dave and the guys, “The only disappointment in it for me is that I only get to kill you each once.” You bristle with barely contained rage at his words.

Good thing you know enough about the human body to resuscitate it. Looks like you’ll just have to give Mac a lesson on how to kill someone over and over. How unfortunate for him.

The most popular bets to his previous profession are linguistics professor or foreign service.

He discovered his fluency in Farsi when he overheard family members of another patient speaking it in the hallway outside of his room. It took him a moment to realize he understood what they were saying. Shortly after, he overheard several nurses conversing in Spanish and realized to his amazement he understood them too.

“Wonder what else you can speak, professor,” Brian the night nurse muses as he pulls out an assortment of chocolates in a gift tin. That’s a new nickname. “Here, have some French chocolate. Someone gifted them to me when they were discharged.”

He reaches for one gingerly, focusing on the pincer grip to pick a chocolate up. It has been a struggle learn how to use his entire body again once it healed enough to be subjected to OT, PT, talk therapy, and other forms of torture.

He frowns at the sweetness of the truffle as he takes a bite. 

“No good?” Bri asks.

“Too sweet,” he mumbles. “But thanks.”

Belgian is better, he thinks to himself before pausing. How does he know that?

Brian grins at him before setting down the tin and checking his chart, “That just means more for me, champ.”

Glancing at the tin, Dave stifles a sharp inhale when he realizes he can read the French printed across the lid.

Discovering or rediscovering who he is has been… interesting. Some of the discoveries raised his spirits, like discovering his impressive ability to guess who was walking into his room based on the sound of their gait or how much a person weighed within a few pounds. Some discoveries though left him questioning what kind of person he really was. An emotional rollercoaster he’s ready to get off of immediately. If only he could just fucking remember!

Aside from being able to read people insanely well, he’s put together that he’s a bit of a control freak and likes things neat and orderly. The bullseye tattoo on his left hand had one nurse guessing that he was an olympic sharpshooter, but no olympian in recent memory remotely looked like him. He knew he had been found in a camo pullover and cargo pants, or what remained of it. Another nurse guessed that perhaps he liked hunting for sport. After all the speculation around the bullseye tattoo, Brian started only referring to him as killer. Curiously, he didn’t seem to mind that nickname. The wedding band tanline made him wonder if he is recently divorced or actually married, but took his ring off for more nefarious reasons. Was he a cheater? Did he have kids? What kind of man was he? 

The strangest discovery came the first time orange slices appeared on his lunch tray. He found himself comforted by the smell of citrus as he ate them. Relaxed even, for the first time since he woke up. And also inexplicably aroused. His body had been so broken it had been months since he felt any tingle or whisp of desire, the feeling so unfamiliar it shocks him. What kind of kinky shit was he into?

That night he dreams of rain forests and citrus, relaxing in a familiar embrace he can not name. He wakes up the most refreshed he’s felt since he woke up in the ICU, body screaming in pain. And yet still he can’t explain why.

Sweat pours off of him as he grips the side rails of the treadmill. The PT room is absurdly bright and cheerful for the types of torture it routinely sees.

“You did great, man,” Ryan, his favorite physical therapist, praises. “Going to be running marathons in no time.”

He just grunts in response. He hates running. This he knows in his bones. Hates it. But he has come a long way from barely managing a step with assistance to walking on the treadmill for the first time. A stupid long painful way.

A sudden frustrated yell across the room jerks his attention to one of the newer patients across the room just as an exercise ball is flung in his direction. He reacts before can think, ducking and moving, assessing in a split second the source of the danger and prioritizing three different options in subduing the threat. He misjudges the distance of a table corner, bruising his hip as he dashes by. Damn his depth perception issues, he thinks. Just another thing to work on.

He surprises himself when he finds himself expertly pulling the patient off balance into a chokehold until security arrives. His body knows exactly how much pressure to put to neutralize the threat without killing him. Why does his body know this? Christ.

“Holy shit, man!” Ryan exclaims, helping to pull him up from the ground. “Where’d you learn to do that!”

“Can’t remember,” he groans as he feels his body protest the sudden intense movement. “Think I set myself back with that stunt.” He slumps over in a chair as sharp pain shoots up both his arms. He allows Ryan to fuss over him before one of the aides brings him back up to his room in a wheelchair. One step forward, three steps back it feels like.

It’s not until he’s settled into the privacy of his own room with a healthy dose of painkillers does he start to tally all of his mysterious abilities. He rubs the itchy scruff growing on his face with irritation. He hasn’t had a proper shave since he got here. And he probably won’t, at least not until his fine motor skills get better to do it himself. The staff are just too overworked here. He huffs to himself. He’s probably more of a danger to himself than anyone else right now. 

With all his language skills, keen sense of observation, and now apparently mad jiu jitsu skills, what did it add up to? Who the fuck was he?

In the weeks following your visit to see your Dave in the ICU, knowing he has a long road to recovery gives you the time and space to track and hunt Mac. In true Dave fashion, he didn’t give you much to work with, just one single conversation about Robert McCall, but that is all you need.

Shortly before Dave missed his check in, he let you wrap yourself around him as the big spoon after having his way with you. He was uncharacteristically spooked, he told you, after running into his former team leader while out on a run. Robert McCall, Mac, was presumed dead. Dave swore he saw him die that day over seven years ago, setting off a chain of events leading to Dave going private with his guys. The impact of Mac’s death, the grief and the disillusionment that followed after leaving the service. 

You knew about the job in Brussels—Susan—and the difficulty Dave was having tying up loose ends. Especially now with Mac resurrected from the dead and digging into Susan’s murder. He briefly mentioned Mac showing up at his apartment and confronting him and the guys a few days after the unexpected reunion. The doorbell footage you found confirmed this conversation.

You asked him if Mac was now a loose end.

Turning to face you, his eyes darkened with affirmation, “But I have a bad feeling about it, Sunshine.” 

Mentally you beat yourself up for not pressing Dave more about this bad feeling at the time because you were too busy preening at the pet name. It marked the first time Dave ever met you at your place, raising an eyebrow at your maximalist design choices. It’s like a rainbow and unicorn threw up in here, he had grumbled. Too bright, so sunshine-y. You’re just jealous your place looks like it was decorated by someone allergic to color, you had quipped before he hauled you over his shoulders into the bedroom with a growled I’ll show you jealous, Sunshine.

You tried to smooth the furrows between his eyes. “Can I help?” you whispered before pressing a kiss to the curve of his nose.

He tensed before pulling back to look at you, “No. Don’t want you anywhere near him, baby. Mac’s a killer. He — he taught me everything I know.”

You protested but the look he leveled you with ended the discussion even if you wanted to push back and insist. 

“You’re helping right now,” Dave consoled you, laying you back and slotting himself between your legs. “Reminding me I have this to come home to.”

The brief realization he had referred to you as home, quickly disintegrated at the pace he set, burying himself in you, sliding deep into the place only he could reach— the place you think of as his. He left early the next morning, pulling a black beanie over his head before kissing you goodbye. “See you in 48, Sunshine.” 

You believe Dave when he said Mac was a killer, the best he knew. So you are meticulous in your tracking. In rare form, you make sure your contingency plans have contingency plans, even if you prefer flying by the seat of your pants. You only allow yourself to feel the quiet thrill of the hunt in order to keep the raging fury that threatens to make you slip up at bay. You summon patience you didn’t know you possessed as you slowly lay your trap and draw Mac in. 

Robert McCall has a weakness for damsels in distress. And for extracting his own sense of justice in situations he came across, serving as sole judge, jury, and executioner. It rankles you to see him decide the fate of others, to right a wrong according to him and him alone. 

But who are you to judge him when you decided to be his judge, jury, and executioner? So you lure him in and give him exactly what he always looked for. In the end, he is just like any other man really. A talented man, a ruthless killer sure, but he could never match your cunning combined with your wrath, your fury at what he did to Dave. 

You keep the feelings at bay as you set the trap in motion until he is soundly in your snare. And even then, you don’t let the rage get out of control because you know your weakness in close combat. You won’t give him an opening to escape or kill you because you can’t stay cool and collected.

By the time you’d laid your trap for Mac, you got a ping from the hospital notifying you of Dave’s transfer to a long-term rehab facility. You pat yourself on the back for the perfect timing. Execute the target and then go check on Dave.

In the end, Mac isn’t that much different from any other kill you executed on the job. Just more satisfying in the end. You did it for Dave, afterall. Your Dave.

He decides that even if he doesn’t like the colorful scrubs the new nurse aide wears, she seems trustworthy enough, even if he struggles to get a more accurate read on her. It’s the first time he’s had trouble reading anyone since he woke up. So he sets aside the puzzlement as Brian introduces him to her. Maybe it’s because of how pretty she is, beautiful really, and how attracted he is to her, a pull that takes him off guard.

“Hey Killer, want to introduce you to our new nurse aide,” Brian says, gesturing to her as she stands a bit shyly next to him. “She’s gonna be helping me out so I don’t feel like a vampire all the time with these night shifts.”

“Killer?” she blurts out making an incomprehensible face before hiding behind a small smile.

“Gives me a reputation. I don’t mind.” He shrugs, smirking at the nickname. “At least until I figure out my real name, no one’s going mess with me. Nice to meet you…?”

The aide makes a funny noise in her throat as he extends his hand to shake hers. She recovers quickly as she takes his hand in hers. Something flickers behind her eyes, something warm, familiar before it fades away as she murmurs her name, Sunny, and tells him to let her know if he needs anything. The pull towards her strengthens as soon as his hands envelope hers, so soft and warm, that he doesn’t want to let go. Something feels so right at her touch. He murmurs her name before she pulls away to make the rounds with Brian.

You aren’t prepared to see Dave. You thought you were. You mentally talked yourself through it before you made your way up to his room with your new supervisor, Nurse Brian. You memorized everything from his chart, and know that he still has severe amnesia, still struggling with remembering anything at all, but nothing prepares you to be in the same room as him and not have a flicker of recognition across his face. His remaining deep brown eye levels a coolness at you that you haven’t seen since the first time you met and tried to kill each other. 

This is bad. After everything, the missed check-in, the frantic searching, the revenge-ing to avenge him, the utter lack of recognition across his beautiful face cracks something in you. You barely recover enough to shake his hand and leave his room upright, telling Brian you have to go to the restroom before meeting any other patients.

Tears prick your eyes and you try to calm your breathing, not wanting to face the tsunami of feelings crashing down on you. When did these feelings for Dave get so out of hand? 

You haven’t needed anyone since you cut off your abusive family and left home to find your way in the world. You learned to be alone, thrived at working alone in a corner you carved out for yourself. You filled your home with art and color and brightness after you realized you had the power to make your own sunshine. Who else would? Definitely not your shitty family. 

And plants. So many plants, your bedroom painted a shade of deep, lush green. Filled with plants. It was like your own personal rainforest. So what if you worked in the dark, creeping in the shadows, a killer for hire? It didn’t mean you had to make it your whole damn personality.

Oh, but Dave. He was the unexpected cherry on top, a force of nature who brought more exciting ops to your life, along with mind-numbing pleasure. Intermittently at first, then regularly. You liked the control you’d cede to him after months of dancing around each other, building trust, moving from fucking in seedy motels after ops to his place or yours. The way he could fuck your worries and stress straight out of your pretty head. Apparently something had shifted without you realizing. Pesky feelings.

Fuck. You care. More than you were willing to admit before Dave almost died. You were too full of rage to feel anything else. You convinced yourself that the revenge you sought when you hunted down Mac was exactly that. Revenge. But now that the rage and fury had ebbed, you face down the why behind your need for revenge, realizing you did what you did because you cared. About Dave. Maybe you lo — lov — Fuck. What if he never remembers what you had together? What exactly did you have with him before, anyway?

He looks good though, even with the patchy scruff and fading scars across his face. The slightly lost expression on his face. Even if you can sense his discomfort in his body, in the way he sits by the window pretending to read a book. He looks so different, skin warm and golden, so alive, from the last time you saw him in the ICU. And his nose, the nose you love healed after all, healing back into its original strong curve.

As much as you want to run back into his room, yelling his name and shaking him until he recognizes you, telling him everything, you know you have to steel yourself for this next part, to allow him to heal and remember at his own pace. Wasn’t that what the doctor had written in his chart? Pushing him too hard will have less-than-ideal outcomes. 

You sigh as you wash your face and take a deep breath. This part of the journey is going to be infinitely harder than finding Dave and killing Mac. But at least now he has you to help him jog his memory and watch his back. You lift your head up to walk out of the restroom, refusing to acknowledge the question prickling down your spine. What if he never remembers you’re his Sunshine?

It storms the first night of your shift, winds howling as you make your rounds and tend to the patients assigned to you. You do most of your menial work with one eye watching Dave, learning his routine and keeping tabs on him. It comforts you to know that he has a genuine rapport with nurse Brian, and has been making significant progress in his physical therapy. You get a sense he doesn’t trust the psych doc very much and has been frustrated at recovering his fine motor skills from the nerve damage in his arms. Must be why he doesn’t shave much, you think to yourself. The facility he’s in is fine for a publicly funded place, but you can tell the staff is overworked and underpaid. Your hourly wage is laughable. And everything is painted in this drab yellow that is an insult to the color. You’d read in his chart that the local precinct had put out feelers trying to identify the resident John Doe without much luck. You hope the luck holds out long enough for Dave to heal sufficiently so you can break him out of here before someone who shouldn’t find him does.

The bright flashes of lightning and roaring thunder keep you awake in the wee hours of your shift, strong winds whipping tree branches against the building, even as the patter of rain threatens to lull you to sleep. As you walk the sterile corridors, passing by Dave’s room you hear him yell out in panic, in fear.

It’s all you can do to stop yourself from sprinting into his room, ready to take out whoever is attacking him. You realize in the darkness of his room, illuminated only by a small night light, Dave is alone in his room, still asleep.

You realize he’s having a nightmare as you watch his eye work beneath his eyelid as he mutters, “Show yourself. Show — Show yourself Mac…” before trailing off. His face winces in pain as he jerks under the covers, panting to catch his breath before flinging his arms around like he’s trying to throw a punch.

For a moment you’re frozen, unsure of what to do as you realize he’s likely reliving his last encounter with Mac in real time. Careful not to use his real name, you put a firm hand on his arm to calm him, hey hey hey, to wake him up before he strangles himself in his sheets. As you make shushing noises he jerks the arm out from your grip, grabbing a hold of your throat before gasping awake, right eye wide in terror.

He apologizes profusely once he really wakes up and gets his bearings. It’s the same dream that haunts him every time it storms outside. Bubbling up from his subconscious every time it storms. He’s up high on a tower or lighthouse by some body of water. Rain whips across his face as the waves crash against the shore. He’s impatient, livid, but also… scared? Somehow he knows the before version of him would never admit the last thing.

He’s waiting for someone who is a danger, a threat. What’s taking so long? He remembers yelling, calling a name, Mac, — who is Mac?— before the dream shifts and he’s in indescribable pain. The most pain his body has ever felt slashes through him, punches into his ribs before he’s falling, falling, falling. It’s the icy cold that wakes him every time, shocking him back to consciousness. But this time he wakes up looking into the eyes of the pretty new aide with one of his hands clutched around her throat.

Well, this isn't the first time he’s had his hands around your throat. The dirty thought skitters across your mind, although that situation is preferable to this one. The thought amuses you, even as you start to feel the oxygen deprivation. It is a nice memory though, you think, being bent over your sink while Dave took you from behind. Arching you up with the tug of your hair to watch him in the mirror. It was after the one time you were almost late for a check-in and he was punishing you for it. For making him worry. If you’re early, you’re on time. If you’re on time, you’re late, Sunshine. Simpler times, you think. 

You inwardly sigh and try to figure out how to get out of his chokehold without hurting either one of you. You settle for anchoring one hand to the one on your throat and twisting out of his grip while leveraging his elbow as gently as you can manage to avoid setting him back in his recovery. 

He’s still gasping for breath as you try to soothe him with your voice, now scratchy from his grip. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” you comfort as you pat his back.

He starts apologizing immediately, a litany of shit, I’m so sorrys, until you level him with your best stare and quip, “I see where you get your nickname from, Killer.”

He stops long enough to bark out a laugh, before asking again if you really are okay. 

“I should be asking you that,” you respond. “Seems like a hell of a dream.” You see him retreat back into himself, at whatever horrors had surfaced in his mind.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you venture, sliding a hand over his. It’s clammy and cold. You feel him start to pull away before stopping.

“I think it’s what happened… before,” he finally answers with a thick swallow, looking away. “No one needs to hear that shit.”

You squeeze his hand for encouragement. “Try me.”

To your surprise he does. After Dave recaps his nightmare as best he can, his hand still in yours, you begin to think that you let Mac off way too easily. Shoulda tortured him more before pulling the plug, you frown internally. Because holy shit, that man really put Dave through the ringer. 

“Thanks for — for listening, I think it helped,” Dave squeezes your hand and looks at you with a surprisingly soft expression. Soft Dave, you never thought you’d see the day.

“Of course, Killer,” you squeeze his hand back before offering to get him some water. He accepts and hesitates as if he wanted to ask you something else. You stand but linger by his bedside giving him a moment.

“Will you — will you stay? Just for a bit, until I fall asleep?” 

After you get him some water, you stay — your hand in his — until he drifts off into an uneasy sleep.

He decides he likes Sunny, not just because she’s pretty, but because she keeps him on his toes with her quick wit and dark sense of humor — to match his own he learns — that makes the days go by faster. Just another thing he learns about himself that just brings more questions than answers.

He can’t help smiling as she checks in with him for the day, wanting to know if he needs anything. “Brought you a present,” she smiles at him so brightly it leaves his brain stuttering to respond. “Your room is so boring, figured you could use a plant.”

She places it by the window before turning with a look to see if he approves. He does. He doesn’t know why but the little green thing feels familiar, a comfort like home. He scratches at the irritating scruff on his cheek before finding his words to thank her. 

“I have some extra time today, do you need a shave?” she asks, like she can read his mind. “Looks itchy.”

“Yes. Please.” The look of relief on his face must be palpable because she immediately leaves to grab a razor and shaving cream. 

The thought that she could read him so well, as if his mind is an open book screams to the front of his mind. His stomach twists at the thought. A creeping suspicion fills him as she approaches with the razor. What if she actually knows who he is, but he just doesn’t remember her? It would explain the inexplicable familiarity that came whenever she visited his room. What if the sunny personality is all an act and she’s actually a cold blooded killer sent to finish him off? Perhaps he should be more suspicious of her. He’d only known her for a week and she is the only person he couldn’t get an accurate read on. 

His chest constricts at the recurring fear that someone had wanted him to hurt badly before trying to kill him. It really was only a miracle he survived. And now he was willingly allowing this stranger into his personal space with a sharp object. Could you kill someone with a disposable razor? Not ideal, he thinks, but possible.

“Everything okay?” she asks him as she sets up the side table with shaving accessories. 

He hesitates, conflicted with his most recent revelations as she moves closer to him.

“Look, if I was going to sever your jugular a disposable razor wouldn’t be my first choice,” she dramatically rolls her eyes at him before looking at him for consent to start.

He lets out a nervous giggle, a sound he’s pretty sure he’s never made in his entire life.

“Not my second, third, or fourth choice either, okay?” she continues. “You have nothing to worry about. I’m not the one with the nickname ‘Killer.’” 

She has a point. And she did just bring him a plant. And comfort him after one of his ridiculous nightmares the very first night she was here. If there was a moment when he was most vulnerable, that was her chance. He pushes away the feelings of suspicion and nods, allowing her to get started.

He couldn’t help leaning into her touch as she gently washes his face and smoothes on the shaving cream. The way the fading light from the window caught the flecks of colors in her eyes as she focused on the task at hand. He couldn’t help but think how cute she looks with her furrowed brows, all her attention on him. He decides the odds are low she was there to kill him considering how careful and gentle she is. He closes his good eye and allows himself to enjoy himself. Who knew getting a shave was such an intimate experience? He could feel himself relaxing under the warmth of her touch and the delicate scent of her citrus-y shampoo wafting across his nose at this close proximity. Something tugs on his mind at the scent, but she interrupts the thought.

“So what do you think, Killer?” she asks.

As he cracks open his eye, he realizes she’s holding up a small mirror. Time slows down at the same time his heart rate speeds up as he takes in his clean-shaven reflection. It’s like he suddenly remembered why he walked into a room after forgetting all this time.

His name is Dave. Dave motherfucking York.

When he says his name out loud, you let out an audible gasp you tried to cover as true surprise.

“This is huge! Dave, do you — do you remember anything else? Last Name?” You blurt out. 

His lips briefly purse before his face flickers just for a moment, his tell, before he shakes his head no. 

Liar. You immediately know he’s lying to you. He fucking remembers. You can see the cogs whirring in his brain, assembling all of the new information he unlocked when he looked at his reflection.You busy yourself tidying up the shaving accessories, watching him from the corner of your eye, hoping that he recognizes you.

It’s coming back to him, you can just tell from the way he’s holding himself up now, even just sitting in the chair, his posture is different. The lost expression is gone. The calculated, commanding presence of the Dave York you know is emerging right before your eyes. 

Dave York is remembering.

He startles you when he speaks to you again, low and almost menacing, “Don’t tell anyone else. I’m not… ready to share yet.” His expression flashes dark at you.

Ah yes, the patented Dave I’m-telling-you-not-asking-you York.

“Of— of course. Take all the time you need,” you respond.

The next time you glance at him, he has that expression on his face where he’s assessing someone, assessing you, deciding if they are a threat or not. Great, the last thing you need is Dave trying to off you before he remembers who the fuck you are. 

“I promise. I’m not going to say a word,” you try and reassure him. 

He offers a nod, a dismissal really, before turning to look out the window, back to whatever memories may be emerging from the abyss of his mind.

You’d think that Dave remembering would be a good thing, but unfortunately the feds figure out who he is at the same time. You’re on shift, loitering by the nurses’ station when you see two nearly identical government looking guys turn the corner into the wing of the facility just after dinner. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, you think. And they reek of federal agents. FBI, specifically. Shit.

Dave has been more withdrawn since remembering his name. Brooding by the window. Typical Dave. You keep up your act, checking on him and chatting with him, hoping really for any glimpse of recognition, but still none so far. You can tell he’s still assessing you, trying to decide if you really are just a peppy aide or dangerous foe waiting to strike.

You busy yourself nearby as the feds chat with Brian, eavesdropping on the conversation.

“Wait, that guy’s wanted for murder AND treason??” Brian exclaims. “But he’s so… docile.” You quietly snort to yourself at that word being used to describe Dave York.

“And a whole list of other things, but those are the big ‘uns,” one of the feds responds.

They continue to chat with Brian, trying to determine how much Dave remembers and what condition he’s in in order to transport him.

“Psych notes still say he doesn’t remember very much. But physically he’s actually almost ready for out-patient rehab,” Brian scans the electronic chart.

“Gotta put in the transfer ’n get him to our medical facility,” Tweedle Dee nods to Tweedle Dum. “We’re going to post someone on the floor to make sure he doesn’t go anywhere.”

Shit, shit, shit.

“Well, as long as they’re discreet,” Brian warns. “Don’t want to disturb the other patients on the floor.”

“Roger that,” Tweedle Dum responds before pulling out his phone to make a call.

The agents nod at Brian before walking back down the hallway. You see them briefly stop outside of Dave’s room before continuing on their way. 

Well, it looks like you’re breaking Dave out of here whether he remembers you or not. This should be fun. Hopefully he doesn’t try to kill you in the process.

Dave senses something is off before he even sees the two feds walk by his room on the way to the nurses station. He knows they’re there for him. By their gait and posture, they don’t seem like they’re in a particular rush to storm his room, so he bides his time, even as he slips a scalpel up his sleeve. He can’t run. All he can manage is a quick walk with a limp. There’s no way he can run fast enough or long enough to evade two federal agents, even if they look like Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. Fuck, he thinks. He should have pushed harder in PT. 

He resumes sitting by the window, angling himself into a better position to attack if they decide to take him in today and waits. Hopefully, it won’t come to that. 

He holds his breath when the agents walk by his door again, pausing for just a moment. He makes sure to observe them so he’ll be able to identify them again if, when, they return. Fuck, he needs to come up with an escape plan. 

He lets out a sigh of relief as they walk away. What the fuck is he going to do? Where is he even going to go? He’s sure he doesn’t have much time, a day at most. Of everything that has returned to him, he still cannot remember any of the safe houses or stashes of money/fake IDs he’s sure he has… somewhere. 

Remembering has been… more bitter than sweet. His rough childhood and divorced parents both deceased, his own divorce from Carol, the stint in the military, black ops, the DIA, before going private. Then it all gets hazy. Were the dreams about Mac real? But how could they be if Mac was dead? Was Mac actually still alive? Remembering all of the heavy stuff was like grieving it all over again, all at once. It was fucking depressing.

As he shuffles to the bathroom to splash water on his face to help him think more clearly, he hears someone walk into his room. By the sound of the light stride, it’s the pretty aide that still talks to him even if he almost strangled her in his sleep. What if she’s making the move to kill him now, after all this time, because she saw the feds coming to take him away? As she rounds the corner, he moves out of instinct, pinning her against the wall with a forearm to her neck, scalpel out and ready. 

She lets out a squeak as he expects, before he cuts off her airway. What he doesn’t expect is her to roll her eyes at him as he presses a scalpel to her jugular.

You aren’t sure when Dave got a hold of a freaking scalpel, but it doesn’t surprise you in the least. Of course he found something sharp to play with.

“Why the fuck aren’t you scared?” he demands. “You got a death wish or something??” 

He eases his forearm off of your throat, but still holds you pinned against the wall. You inwardly sigh. In another time and place, this would just be foreplay, but right now the scalpel is still just a little too close to comfort. Probably shouldn’t push it with him, not too much anyway.

“That’s what you want to ask me, Yorkie?” you croak. You decide on no sudden movements though, in case it spooks his hand to twitch in the wrong direction.

He frowns at the pet name. Right, he never told you he remembered his last name. Oopsies. 

“You’d never hurt me,” you whisper. “At least, the Dave I remember wouldn’t. Not — not unless I liked it.”

Your eyes search his brown one, for anything, any recognition, but still none comes. Why are you tearing up? It’s not like he’s crushing your windpipe anymore. 

“How do I know you’re not the one trying to kill me?” he growls. Well, at least he sounds like the Dave you love. Love? Wait, what??

“Don’t you think if I wanted to kill you, I woulda done it the first night?” You roll your eyes again. You’re getting impatient now, if anything just to have the pointy blade removed from the vicinity of your neck. Maybe you could have done without the eye roll though.

His brows are still furrowed and you are so tempted to raise your hand and smooth the double crease away with your thumbs. You miss the way he’d melt under your touch, even if he’d never admit to liking it. He stares you down for a handful of breaths before you see the moment he makes a decision that reflects across his face. 

The moment he shifts the blade an inch away, you pounce, leveraging the blade away from him and reversing your positions. Shoving him up against the wall, you flinch when you hear his head smack the wall a little harder than you prefer, even if you know you’re not strong enough to hold him there very long. You press the dull side of the blade against his inner thigh, right at his femoral artery.

“This bring back any memories, Yorkie?”

He blinks hard a few times, as if he is surprised to find himself pinned against the wall by you. He glances down at where you have the scalpel pressed against his inner thigh before looking back up again and you brace yourself because you think he’s about to fight you off. Then you realize he’s looking at the plant you left on his window sill and then back at you, really looking at you like he’s seeing you for the first time.

His eye widens as he softly inhaless, “Sunshine?”

The citrus bodywash, the plants, all the fucking plants, the too colorful scrubs. His Sunshine. Unlike all his other memories that came back gradually in waves, with you it was like a switch was flipped and he went from not knowing you to now remembering everything. He feels a surge of emotion — relief, excitement, desire — but the most prominent is trust. He has someone he can truly trust, who knows him, again. 

All it took was a scalpel to his femoral artery. Figures. How he met you is a core memory after all. 

He feels you lessen your hold on him, tucking the scalpel away, eyes wide as you pull away from him in disbelief. But he doesn’t want you to be further away from him, he wants to keep you close. And so he tugs you flush against him.

“Say my name again,” you ask, eyes still wide.

He brushes a thumb across your soft cheek and takes in your bright, discerning eyes. “My Sunshine.”

“You really remember,” you whisper, pressing your face into his chest for a deep inhale, before looking back up at him. “I missed you so much, Yorkie.”

He just looks at you, takes you in, tracing the outline of your lips before pressing his mouth to yours.

You and Dave don’t get much of a reunion, a single kiss, before you hear footsteps approaching. By the sound of the gait heavily favoring the right side, it’s your supervisor Nurse Brian. You immediately move, pretending to prop Dave up over one of your shoulders like you’re helping him to walk before Brian turns the corner.

“Everything okay here, Sunny?” Brian calls out as he approaches.

“Yep, all good. Just helping Killer here back from the bathroom. Looks like he… tweaked his knee pretty bad in PT,” you respond, trying to hide how breathless you are from one kiss. Dave gives you the most dubious expression before you elbow him in the side and give him a look that says just go with it okay?

Dave has never been a fan of improvisation like you, preferring his contingency plans having contingency plans, all neatly laid out in his cute little spreadsheets. Which… you can appreciate. You love a good spreadsheet, but sometimes flying by the seat of your pants is just so much more… fun and exciting. Maybe this is why the two of you make such a good team, a bit of intense control and structure and, well, a lot of whatever it is you feel like doing in the moment.

You can tell the moment Dave decides to play along when he drops a chunk of his weight on you and you nearly stumble trying to keep the both of you upright. You keep up a rambling monologue at Brian as you settle Dave back into his bed while Brian shuffles awkwardly around the room, obviously trying to herd you out of the room. Your spidey senses tingle — something is about to happen. Before you leave the room, you surreptitiously slip the scalpel back to Dave and give him the most reassuring look you can manage. 

Just outside Dave’s room Brian finally spills the news that the feds got approval to transfer him later tonight. Perfect, you think. Just enough time for a bit more improvisation to break Dave out of this place. And get you out of here too. If you have to give another sponge bath or assist with another bowel evacuation you might start killing people.

“Turns out Killer is actually a killer,” Brian whispers, shaking his head. “I’ll be damned. Just make sure you don’t go into his room by yourself anymore.”

Boy, do you have news for your supervisor. 

During your next break, you comb the facility looking for something to create a distraction. A big one. As you pass by the PT room, the small row of treadmills call to you and a burst of inspiration hits you. Yorkie will be so pleased. He hates running.

The fire is a lot bigger than you expected. Apparently all the foam roller things in the PT room are also highly, highly flammable. Piled together by the treadmills you rigged to spark, you didn’t expect it to make quite the towering inferno it did. But you know what? Mission accomplished. 

In the chaos of the fire alarm and subsequent evacuation, you sneak Dave off in a wheelchair (and the plant you brought him, gotta save the little guy too!) and into a car you had borrowed before you started your very brief career in healthcare. Parked in an alleyway cleared of cameras, you almost giggle at the getaway going so well. The only person you had to kill was the fed left to watch Dave’s floor. Yorkie, on the other hand, is still tense with apprehension apparently.

“We’re not clear yet,” he growls as you flip on the radio and peel out of the alleyway.  

“Don’t make me tranq you,” you threaten with a smile. “Raining on my brilliant plan.”

He grumbles something unintelligible while pinching the bridge of his nose, but keeps quiet as he looks out the window as Tracy Chapman’s Fast Car comes on over the radio. As the miles roll by, it occurs to you that it’s the first time he’s been outside of a hospital or facility in almost a year and the uncertainty of the future, now on the run, sobers you up a bit for the rest of the drive. 

It takes a subway, a bus, and a boat, and another borrowed car, before you make it back to your place. You didn’t want to give the feds a chance at tracking either of you, so you took the extra long, long way home. You’re both quiet most of the journey, only communicating when necessary when switching modes of transportation. 

The only time he asks you anything is when it starts to rain, water streaming along the wide windows of the bus. He whole body jerks when he remembers something he wanted to ask you, “Mac. Was he the one who… Is he — is he alive? Or dead?” You can hear the absolute terror in his whispered confusion.

You slide a hand over his to calm him, “He was alive. He didn’t die all those years ago.” You can feel his entire body tense even more. “He’s gone now though, Yorkie. Can’t come after you anymore.”

He stares at you, stiff as a corpse.

“I took care of him for you, baby.” You pat his hand, willing him to take a breath and relax. 

He continues to look at you, wanting an explanation, but you’re not about to confess to murder and torture on a bus, even if it is mostly empty. 

“Later, Yorkie,” you murmur as you snuggle up next to him, hoping he will finally relax. There’s still a way to go before you both get home.

He crashes immediately after getting to your place. You can tell he’s overexerted himself and is likely in more pain than he’s letting on. Still too wired from being on high alert and making sure Dave was okay on the long trek home, you curl up in an armchair by the bed and just watch him sleep. Perhaps you’re afraid if you take your eyes off of him for a moment, he’ll vanish again. 

There’s a warm shaft of light emanating from the bathroom, casting soft shadows around the room, highlighting the outline of his form, those broad fucking shoulders and soft brown hair. He’s so still you’d rush to check for a pulse save for the slow steady rise and fall of his chest.  

Even with all the progress he’d made in physical therapy, he still has a ways to go. You push aside the concern and anxieties of tomorrow to appreciate that he’s warm and safe in your bed right now. Your eyes trace his face, those plush lips you’ve only gotten to kiss once since he remembered you. Following the arch of that nose you love to the two deep furrows between his brows. How does someone look so grumpy even in their sleep? It delights you.

When you can’t take the distance, however short, from Dave, you slide into bed as slowly as you can. He’s usually such a light sleeper, but he doesn’t move an inch. You gently smooth a thumb between his brows until you feel him melt. You close your eyes and allow his steady breathing to lull you to sleep.

“You’re going to cook? Breakfast?” you almost fall out of bed as you try and untangle yourself from the sheets, still half asleep. Who is this man and what has he done with Dave York?

He grumbles something before raising his voice, “I miss real eggs. That place only ever made the powdered shit.”

You shrug and gesture at him to knock himself out, while you busy yourself with making coffee. Coffee always first. Then food. This is the correct order of things. As you hear the fridge door swing open, you feel Dave freeze, standing stock still while letting all the cold air out. Ugh, Dave.

“Sunshine…” he seems to be at a loss for words. “Why the fuck do you have an eyeball in your fridge?”

“Oh, I forgot!” you exclaim. “It’s your welcome home present, Yorkie.” 

His head pokes out from behind the door and he frowns, “You know it can’t replace the eye I lost right?” 

“Oh, I know. It’s what’s left of Mac,” you explain as you slide by him to grab the oatmilk for your coffee. The eyeball stares down at you, suspended in formalin, from its clear jar on the top fridge shelf. “Eye for an eye right?” 

He just looks at you and then at the jarred eyeball in the fridge, and then back at you, speechless.

“Well, except he’s dead and you’re not.” You smile and shrug as you finish stirring the milk into your coffee and take the first blessed sip, extra pleased with yourself. “You’re welcome, Yorkie.”

“Fuck baby, sometimes you scare me you know that?” 

You just smile at him, looking so at home in your colorful kitchen with his tousled hair and grumpy expression before you go to sit on one of the kitchen island stools. “I think that’s exactly why you love me.”

He rounds the island counter and cages you in with his arms. You take in his handsome face, so handsome it’s sometimes hard to breathe, as he just takes you in. He finally rumbles, “Yeah, I guess that’s why I do.” 

“Yeah?” you look at the floor at the admission, swiveling back and forth on the stool, not quite ready to look at him again.

He tilts your chin up with one hand, “You really take care of Mac for me? All by yourself?”

You consider reminding him that you offered to help in the first place, but somehow an I told you so felt like it would ruin the moment. You just bite your lower lip instead.

“Mmh hmm.”

“Why, baby? I — I almost died,” he presses. “He coulda killed you! You didn’t know then if I was even going to make it or not.”

You frown at this. Did he not understand?

“And I’m still so — so broken. Never going to fully recover and be who I was. Not worth anything to anyone anymore.”

He definitely does not understand. And you haven’t had enough coffee for this conversation. You quell the urge to roll your eyes as you grasp the front of his shirt and pull his face down level with yours.

“Yorkie, that’s exactly why I killed him.” Your words are firm even if you feel yourself shaking at what you’re about to admit. “He doesn’t get to try to kill the person I love and get away with it.”

His eyebrows shoot up at your disclosure, that pesky L-word. Should it really be a surprise at this point though? After everything? Even if it terrifies you to admit out loud. You did all of this because you love him. Your Dave.

“After I — I saw you in the hospital, everything Mac did, there wasn’t another option,” you murmur. “You mean everything to me, Yorkie.”

Dave forgets about the stupid eggs as he drags you back to bed and reminds you exactly why you love his nose so much. Fuck, you missed this. 

You suppose from one assassin to another, there’s no declaration of love like getting all murder-y and revenge-y for them. It might as well have been a proposal of marriage. Even with so much uncertainty about your futures and how much rehab Dave still has to go, you figure as long as he doesn’t start trying to back seat assassinate, you’ll both be fine. You’ll take care of your Yorkie until he can be Murdah Daddy again.

[adobe-outdesign]

Nigel: The Muppets' Most Interesting Uninteresting Character

(This was supposed to be a fun little post about an obscure Muppet character but now I fell down a hole doing too much research and sunk cost fallacy won't let me live it down unless I include all of the useless information I've learned so enjoy knowing more about this character than you ever have or ever will want to know)

Nigel was created to be the host of the Muppet Show's Sex and Violence pilot instead of Kermit (who only appears in the pilot for like 30 seconds)

He was originally puppeteered by Jim Henson himself, giving him a vaguely Kermit-esq voice initially

Nigel Voice Count: 1

Nigel is a yellow... something. You’d assume he’s just a stylized human Muppet but in S4E18 Sam refers to him as a “thing”

He actually looks near-identical to a Fraggle minus the tail. I don’t know what to do with this information

Nigel was diagnosed with terminal Boring Personality disease due to the following attributes:

He’s very meek. Unlike Kermit, who will freak out and tell people they suck to their faces, Nigel raises his voice one (1) time and mostly relies on Sam the Eagle and Crazy Harry to deal with the assorted chaos

His face is flexible like Kermit’s, but he has permanently partially-lidded eyes that leave him looking exhausted in every scene he’s in

He’s generally unenthusiastic and seems like he wants to go home constantly

Jim Henson: The Works describes him as "lacking in spunk and charisma," which is hilariously cruel yet 100% accurate

What’s surprising at this point is that instead of scrapping him, he instead took on the role of orchestra conductor on the show proper, where he proceeds to do almost nothing for five seasons

The Muppets Character Encyclopedia actually provides a canon reason for this: Nigel lost the job of host due to his “shy manner”, and Kermit, feeling bad for replacing him, gave him his new job

He can technically be seen in basically every episode during the theme song, but aside from that, he often pops up in the chorus during songs

Which is funny when you consider he should be in the pit Doing His Job during those sequences

A quick list of his more important (if you can even call them that) appearances:

S1E2: He has Zoot play a song called “Sax and Violence” b/c pilot references

It’s actually implied the Mayhem falls under his jurisdiction as he threatens to fire Zoot, but this never comes up again

S1E24: Playing the part of a library patron noisily chewing gum (despite not having teeth. idk you figure it out). This one’s only notable because he’s wearing the same outfit from the pilot

S3E16: Nigel’s eyelids are not connected to the rest of his body and he’s facing backwards through the entire backstage segment so you’re uncomfortably aware of this

S1E23 has Floyd complaining that the theme song is cringe(TM), at which point it’s casually revealed that Nigel wrote it?? how is this character so important and unimportant at the exact same time

If you’ve seen this episode and aren’t deaf you might have noticed he has a completely different voice here. This is because John Lovelady has taken over as his puppeteer, presumably because Jim was busy Running The Entire Show

Nigel Voice Count: 2

Nigel has a talent for whistling, which is shown off in S2E18 during a performance with Floyd (this is the only time he comes on stage to perform that isn’t with a crowd)

He shows this off again in S4E18 to participate in the age-old sport of Annoying Sam the Eagle backstage

As of the 2011 movie Walter takes over as the show’s resident whistler because Nigel isn’t allowed to have character traits

He briefly shows up during the credits of The Muppet Movie (now puppeteered by Dave Goelz). Because of this, in the UK version of the end credits, he has another completely different voice

Nigel Voice Count: 3

After a brief background appearance in The Jim Henson Hour (S1E12), Nigel proceeded to completely disappear for 20 years

I’m guessing the reason was that his puppet was becoming unusable. The foam used for the muppets disintegrates over time, and his puppet was ~15 years old at this point

Things were particularly bleak for him in the 90s because Muppets Tonight came out with a new unrelated TV director character named... Nigel. Because Jim had passed away at this point and I think everyone working on the show literally Forgot they already had a character named that

Not that it would be that big of a problem, seeing as the chances of yellow Nigel returning were bleak. who was gonna spend time and money rebuilding an incredibly minor background character like him

TRICK QUESTION because he was rebuilt for The Muppets (2011), which is pretty amazing when you consider that he does Nothing during this movie

The new puppet looks pretty similar to the old one. I think the face is a bit rounder/more structured but I could also be losing my mind

(Side note: shoutout to whoever decided to give him a scarf in this scene. that’s such an unnecessary detail)

What’s great is that now that the puppet’s been rebuilt he’s shown up in a lot of stuff because they have no reason not to include him. Some of the more notable examples include:

The music video for OK Go’s cover of the theme song (which I certainly hope he would show up in I mean. it’s his song)

In the live shows (The Muppets Take the Bowl and The Muppets Take the O2) there’s a parade of overlooked characters, which includes Nigel. I just find it funny that:

A) The writers fully acknowledge that he’s King of the Background Characters

B) The in-universe implication that Kermit was like “no one knows who you are, wanna be in a parade celebrating that fact” and Nigel was like “okay”

His most recent appearance was in Muppets Haunted Mansion, where he’s dead (don’t worry about it). More importantly, he gets an entire shot to himself conducting some skulls, which I think is the first time the camera’s been focused solely on him in literally 40 years. Good job, buddy!

Here’s some other misc appearances that I couldn’t fit elsewhere:

He appears alongside Jim and a few other Muppets in a 1977 commercial for American Express (once again wearing his pilot outfit), which is particularly strange considering he’s the only character there that used to be puppeteered by Jim

In 2010 he got a somewhat important role in the first issue of Muppet Sherlock Holmes, playing the part of a butler suspected of poisoning the head of the house

He gets one whole page in The Muppets Character Encyclopedia from 2014 (right next to other Nigel). In addition to the aforementioned info bridging the gap between the pilot and the show proper, it also states that he’s susceptible to hypnosis and he trained at the Tommy Newsom Academy for Music and Charisma

In terms of future projects: there is both a Jim Henson biopic and documentary coming in the future (side note: why???), so it’s possible he might be discussed briefly in one of those

I have no thesis statement or reason for writing this, but I guess I’ll close out by saying that I find it fascinating that a failed main character from a pilot episode is still appearing in recent Muppet productions but solely as a background character. I hope that in 2073 I can put on some Muppet media and Nigel will still be there still doing absolutely nothing

thanks for coming to my TED talk

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Dave Whamond

* * * *

A false claim circulating on social media that Kamala Harris was involved in an alleged hit-and-run in San Francisco in 2011 is the work of a covert Russian disinformation operation, according to new research by Microsoft.

Researchers found that the group created a video, paid an actor to appear as the alleged victim, and spread the claim through a fake website for a nonexistent San Francisco news outlet named KBSF-TV. The Russian group responsible, which Microsoft dubs Storm-1516, is described as a Kremlin-aligned troll farm.

Microsoft said the discovery was a sign of Russia ramping up its foreign influence efforts ahead of the 5 November presidential election. A spokesperson for the Russian embassy in Washington did not respond to a request for comment from Reuters.

“Russian influence operations initially struggled to pivot operations aimed at the Democratic campaign following president Biden’s departure from the US 2024 presidential race,” a blog published on Tuesday by Microsoft said.

“In late August, however, elements of prolific Russian actor Storm-1516 began producing content implicating vice-president Harris and governor Walz in outlandish fake conspiracy theories,” Microsoft said, referring to Harris’ running mate, Tim Walz.

Storm-1516 is known for producing misleading videos featuring on-screen or voice actors who impersonate whistleblowers or journalists that share false, scandalous information, experts say.

A website for KBSF-TV was created shortly before publishing its first related article about the alleged driving incident, according to online registration records. The false claim – that the Democratic presidential candidate left a 13-year-old girl paralysed in a hit-and-run – circulated on social media platforms, including X, formerly known as Twitter using the hashtag #HitAndRunKamala.

In total, it is estimated the video has been viewed more than 2.7m times.

“Many entities within the pro-Russian ecosystem advanced the video and its claims,” said Microsoft’s Threat Analysis Center.

Earlier this month the US justice department filed money-laundering charges against two employees of Russian state media network RT for what officials said was a scheme to hire an American company to produce online content to influence the election.

US officials say Russia’s goal is to exacerbate US political divisions and weaken public support for American military aid to Ukraine. Harris says if elected she will continue supporting Ukraine in its defence against Russia’s invasion.

[legacyofthedamneddsaf]

Hey hey! First off, I love this AU to absolute pieces. It's so damn fun to watch/learn about.

Second of all!! Is it okay to have everyone's pronouns and/or identities?? I just wanna know, not just for the sake of curiosity, but also so I don't misgender them when rambling about the AU(/pos) to some people

mod talk under the cut!

Sorry this is so long, they're all just terrible and complicated people who have horrible messy relationships with everything. They require intense explanation!!

Legacy: he/him. Also responds to it/its, but wouldn't necessarily label himself that way if asked. Otherwise, he doesn't care much for labels. OOC, he's acespec but doesn't put many restrictions on who he's interested in - he's kind of a slut that way.

Dave: he/him, although he doesn't care too much. Like Legacy, he's unlabelled. His standards are basically "anything that moves," but he's pretty arospec - the only person he'd consider maintaining a serious connection to is Legacy.

Henry: will only accept he/him, he finds anything else very disrespectful. He's bi, but he's not really interested in romance or sex right now, he's too married to his research. (And, like, his dead wife, also.)

Peter: he/him. He actually labels himself! He would call himself transheteroflexible, he just doesn't talk about it all that much. He's got bigger issues.

Blackjack: responds to any pronouns, but if you asked he'd say he/him. He calls himself gay as an umbrella term, but doesn't have any more specifics than that. OOC, he's probably on the arospec!

Dee: she/they lesbian. (she's just like me fr!) She gave a lot of thought to this while she was distracting herself, so they would actually describe themself that way! I personally think she worries a lot about counting as femme or butch while also not having the best conceptualization of either identity. But at least we have lesbians in this godforsaken world.

Jake: if you ask, he'd say "he/it," but he only uses it/its in the fucked up way where he feels like if he chooses the dehumanization then it's totally fine and he actually doesn't care. So, out of canon, he/him! (note: I'm absolutely not saying it/its is inherently dehumanizing, both the other mods use it/its!! I just think Jake has problems in his mind.) He's really repressed about his sexuality, he's (regretfully and messily -s) been with Legacy but his emotions on that are so complicated he tries and fails to absolutely never think about it again. What he has going on with Roger is a lot less fucked up, but he's still weird about it. I don't think he'd call himself any kind of queer, but he's probably bisexual.

Roger: he/him, but he's dabbled with she on occasions. He thinks he's completely romantically destitute and nobody will ever love him, so he hasn't bothered with putting a name to his sexuality, but he's the kind of guy to say "everyone likes men, that's normal!" He is in for some incredibly eye-opening months with the Damned for sure.

this emotionally stunted man is going to go the fuck through it in possibly the worst time and place for it. oh well! -s

Harry: he/him, he'd call himself bi. He knows this because he had a thing with Joe, and he assumes that attraction to women is a universal constant even though he personally leans heavily towards men.

the ancient greeks would like this guy i think -h

Steven: he/him, gay, he's probably the only person here other than Dee to have a solid concept of their own identity! Shoutout to Steven for being uncomplicated

and that was "2 ppl who dont really label themselves or have strong ties to their queer identity try to figure out how a bunch of other ppl would feel about theirs," as translated by arden. you could say that we write what we know -s

yeah, the mods are all different flavors of aro/acespec and genderweird. it's all so difficult forever

[davekat-sucks]

okay so like is it just me or do all versions of canon meenkat suck?

In homestuck the ship is very iffy due to the age gap [and the fact that meenah just got out of a predatory relationship with (vriska)]

But is hs^2 it's somehow worse???? First of all karkat is like 39 I think, AND MEENAH IS STILL 19!! Like holy shit thats an even bigger age gap then in hs. It's made even worse by the patreon posts and that I feel like ppl in this fandom think it's okay to ship now cuz "karkat is an adult now!!" while completely forgetting the age of meenah?

The only that this ship could work is if meenah was brought back to life at the same time karkat was around her age, but the hs^2 writers couldnt do that for some reason.

I don't think she is still 19 by the time Meenah and Karkat met in Epilogues. Some years have passed since it shown that Harry and Tavros Crocker were around before the reunion. With Tavros Crocker described being so short that he couldn't reach the doorknob. And later it is said that 10 years had gone by since John had talked with Terezi. So by then, Harry and Tavros would be teens by that point. At best, we can assume that Harry and Tavros were 5 years old by the time we were first shown them, since in HSBC, they are 15 years old. So likely somewhere within the extra 5 years before HSBC official starts, Karkat and Meenah met and then spent time together during it to prepare their war against Jane. At best, she would be 20-24 during Epilogues, with 24 being the best estimate of her age by Beyond Canon. Of course, Karkat was 20 years old by the end of the webcomic, so add in 15 years since we got Omega Kids, he would be 35 years old. So yes, the age gap is still present and doesn't help that the team confirmed that the did indeed fucked. And I guess the reason why nobody addresses Karkat being the pedophile now is either: A. Karkat will fuck Dave later on, so his one fling with Meenah won't matter because he will be GAY. Homosexuality erases pedophilia allegations, don't you know? Why else people excused Meenah x Vriska being a thing years back too? It's not because all the characters are fictional and people could ship whatever they wanted or the fandom wanted more lesbians after Rosemary had been canon. B. People think Meenah, a fuchsiablood in power, was bad because hemospectrum. But because Karkat is older than her despite being mutantblood, he has better authority over the person who would have became Sea Hitler in an alternate timeline. C. They assume that now that they are adults, even with the similar big age gap, they are at least consenting adults. So that's why they are fine with a 24 year old fucking with a 35 year old bastard. Whichever the reason is, by the end of Beyond Canon, the age gap thing will never be addressed by any of the main cast, Davekat will happen, and the shitty sequel ends on a disgusting brown note. James Roach and HICU will never address how old Karkat and Meenah are and just make people assume they are the same age because they are now both drawn like adults, so you don't have to worry about their teen sprites doing adult things despite they would still be adults in the sequel and they had only kept the teen sprite looks for stupid familiarity bullshit. Because god forbid if we make eyeless adults for both humans and trolls despite that The Condesce (an adult troll herself) was shown having eyes or at least, eyewear, to make them still stand out and recognizable.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Damita Menezes at NewsNation:

(NewsNation) — A man who allegedly pointed an AK-47-style rifle through the fence at Trump International Golf Club West Palm Beach on Sunday, while the former president was golfing nearby, has been taken into custody, authorities say. The man, identified to NewsNation by a law enforcement source as Ryan Wesley Routh, 58, is described as a white male. He is believed to be the suspect who was crouched in bushes near the golf club perimeter, armed with a weapon equipped with a scope. Two backpacks and a Go-Pro camera were also found with the firearm near the perimeter from which the suspect had fled. Local authorities said the gunman was about 400 yards to 500 yards away from Trump. Routh was convicted in 2002 of possessing a weapon of mass destruction, according to online North Carolina Department of Adult Correction records.

Palm Beach County State Attorney Dave Aronberg told NewsNation that the suspect was not previously on local law enforcement’s radar. Routh, who reportedly has ties to North Carolina and Hawaii, had made “bizarre” social media posts about Ukraine before the incident. Federal authorities have taken over the case, with Aronberg’s office standing down. The state attorney anticipates Routh will face charges related to domestic terrorism and weapons offenses, though specific charges have not been announced. At approximately 1:30 p.m. local time, authorities received a call reporting shots fired at the golf course where Trump was playing a round of golf. A witness told police the suspect fled the scene in a black Nissan and provided investigators with photos of the suspect’s license plate. Using that photo, authorities say they put out a “a very urgent BOLO (Be On the Lookout) for the suspect’s vehicle and plates. [...]

Routh’s social media posts

Social media posts allegedly belonging to Routh indicate he was a believer in COVID-19 conspiracy theories, and he had posted that he had voted for Trump in 2016 but was disappointed with him after the fact, expressing support for Tulsi Gabbard in various posts. Records show Routh moved in 2018 to Kaaawa, Hawaii, where he and his son operated a company building sheds, according to an archived version of the webpage for the business.

In June 2020, he made a post on X directed at then-President Trump to say he would win reelection if he issued an executive order for the Justice Department to prosecute police misconduct. However, in recent years, his posts suggest he soured on Trump, and he expressed support for President Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris. In July, following the assassination attempt on Trump in Pennsylvania, Routh urged Biden and Harris to visit those wounded in the shooting at the hospital and to attend the funeral of a former fire chief killed at the rally. Voter records show he registered as an unaffiliated voter in North Carolina in 2012, most recently voting in person during the state’s Democratic Party primary in March 2024. Federal campaign finance records show Routh made 19 small political donations totaling $140 since 2019 using his Hawaii address to ActBlue, a political action committee that supports Democratic candidates.

Routh’s Ukrainian ties

The New York Times said it interviewed him for a feature on pro-Ukrainian foreign fighters last year. The Times said Routh traveled to Ukraine in 2022 to recruit ex-Afghan soldiers who fled the Taliban to fight for the embattled nation. Routh frequently posted on social media about the war in Ukraine and had a website where he sought to raise money and recruit volunteers to go to Kyiv to join the fight against the Russian invasion.

The 2nd Trump assassination attempt shooter was Ryan Wesley Routh.

Routh has expressed political views across the spectrum, such as COVID conspiracies, support for Ukraine and Taiwan, and backing of Donald Trump in 2016 before turning against him in favor of Tulsi Gabbard in 2020 and this year, a Vivek Ramaswamy/Nikki Haley unity ticket.

See Also:

HuffPost: Authorities Begin Probing Life Of Suspect In Apparent Assassination Attempt Against Trump

The Guardian: Who is the man reportedly detained in the Trump ‘assassination attempt’?

Axios: What we know about the suspect in the Trump golf club shooting incident

[nerdieforpedro]

Last Line Tag Game

rules: in a new post, show the last line(s) you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you like).

Tagged by @tinytinymenace @djarinmuse @chronically-ghosted @pedroshotwifey

So I think I’ll give three last lines, because it’s what I’ve been working on, first up is Din Djarin smut. I was supposed to be writing fluff, between @alltheglitterandtheroar and @megamindsecretlair it changed for the better and teasing is always fun. ☺️

Both arms pull Din’s head to your chest, the sharp inhale of air before he’s buried in your body has you whining. The intensity of just two of this thick fingers have you close to your second orgasm but he removes them, a pop then a second as he mouth part from your nipple. “Taste yourself, then you’ll come twice for me.”

Second is from “This is the Neighboorhood Din” my modern Din AU:

“Dear Lord in heaven I am not dressed or prepared to talk to that sort of man any day.” She muttered as Ms. Harris made her way down the stairs toward her, she hugged her, and her arms wrapped around her as well, eye still lingering on the man sitting on the porch. His sweatpants did not leave much to the imagination. They weren’t tight by any means; one could just trace the lines. Thick thighs and well… heavy in the middle is the most polite way to say it. The only way she can think to describe it while hugging her aunt.

Third, last line from chapter 5 of “The Lake Between Us” (yes I do have future chapters written I planned! Unheard of in Nerdie-land)

“That I did Moonbeam. You should be cautious of my motives, but I can start at the beginning of my troubles for you if you like.” He placed his hand on hers, running up her arm to her shoulder and drew a small circle around her mole. “Be forewarned, the past is neither rosy nor glamorous. It is fraught with hardship, double-crosses and some death.”

Moonbeam grinned, nodding as he spoke, “Sounds like a thriller Ezra. I’m all ears. Add a dash of romance and some mistaken identity and you have yourself a movie marathon.”

“I’m sure you’d be riveted to hear it.”

“That I would.” Moonbeam crosses her legs and leans forward, touching his chin with a finger, “Speak.”

Lastly, I might be trying finish my Dave York series finally. 👀 Or one of them, though I’m not sure all of them are on Tumblr. I think I write too much stuff and it get’s jumbled. This is a softer Dave:

At her core, Kiara felt safe with him. It hurt to admit though she wasn’t exactly sure why, pride maybe? Maybe she wanted to continue to be independent but she hadn’t been for a few months now.

No. Not when she really thought about it.

Her head was leaning against the steering wheel, the nurse had seen his SUV parked in the driveway. Dave pretty much lived with her now, though she didn’t remember giving him a key. He hadn’t needed a key their first night together either.

I’m also working on “Roc & Doc” and crafting the murder mystery since I killed off Rockford’s partner and introduced his brother. What role will his brother play? We’ll see. Also, if you’re going to be a furry for the night, make sure you can in and out of your suit. 😎

Chapter 5 of “Weddings 101 with Dieter” is under way as well. I want a lot to be in it, might be too much. We’ll see how it turns out, also smut because Dieter’s gotta get Maya’s dress off - he did promise her that. 😘 Half-ass and Bridezilla are in full swing!

It’s a lot like always because it’s Nerdie, what else am I supposed to do? Too many ideas, not enough follow-through. I did four instead of three. 😵

NPT: @maggiemayhemnj @morallyinept @rhoorl (for the sweatpants) @linzels-blog for Din @inept-the-magnificent @soft-girl-musings @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @magpiepills @secretelephanttattoo @goodwithcheese @undercoverpena @legendary-pink-dot @for-a-longlongtime @lady-bess @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @gemmahale @laurfilijames @avastrasposts @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @tightjeansjavi @frenchiereading @boliv-jenta @thefrogdalorian @trulybetty @kewwrites @beefrobeefcal @fhatbhabie

And whoever else saw all this and was like, let me do it too! ☺️

[awesomefringey]

What's your Dave receipt of all time?

I really love the one that tells us how it all started and frankly how reckless they were early on.

I really like the one that gives us a glimpse into their living situation and/or how they have shared investments.

Sorry but someone describing Louis as Sex On A Stick has changed my life forever. Nothing made more sense than this description. Thank you @twopoppies for not gatekeeping it.

The NZ receipt is one of my favorite receipts ever. It’s been since gone from Tumblr because Gabi’s blog was deleted but we recovered what we could. See a comment about it by @tellmethisisnottumblisnextfuckup (Gabi’s new blog but she’s not as active at the moment) about how she got the information.

The Yes Of Course Always receipt is another classic that I just find so easy to believe. Times were different and I totally see young Harry approaching queer and out artists in the industry like that. At least back in the days.

And I think I will never get over Larry receipts weekend, and how the idea of chill Larries sitting on receipts provided us an avalanche of very very cute stories.

And so many more. I hope you enjoy them 💜

[scotianostra]

On 29th February 1904 the Pavilion Theatre, Glasgow, opened.

Designed by Bertie Crewe for Thomas Barrasford, the Pavilion Theatre opened at the corner of Renfield Street and Renfrew Street, Glasgow on the 29 February, 1904. It was regarded as luxurious for its time with its decor being described by the owners as “pure Louis XV”. An electrically operated sliding roof ensured good ventilation.

Performances in the early days were mainly variety, melodrama and pantomime. Many of the leading music hall artistes of the period appeared at the Pavilion, including Marie Lloyd, Little Tich, Harry Lauder, Florrie Forde, Will Fyffe, Sarah Bernhardt and a then unknown Charlie Chaplin.

Since the 1930s, the Pavilion began to host pantomimes with top name stars of the Scottish variety scene, such as Harry Gordon and Dave Willis. In more recent times it has produced plays, such as ‘The Sash’ and ‘The Steamie’.

The Pavilion Theatre is now the only privately run theatre in Scotland and one of a few unsubsidised independent theatres left in Britain.

“Defying all the odds, Glasgow’s Pavilion regularly purveys variety to this day. All the more remarkable as it is completely unsubsidised and receives no funding from the Scottish Arts Council and kindred bodies whose thoughts and cash are directed at higher cultural activities. It remains the last stronghold of a long music hall tradition in Europe’s City of Culture owing everything to a dedicated staff and patrons and nothing to the public purse.

With its imposing terra cotta facade, the Pavilion Theatre of Varieties was designed by Bertie Crewe in the grand manner for Thomas Barrasford. The domed ceiling was surmounted by an electrically controlled sliding roof for ventilation. Fine Rococo plasterwork on the circle, balcony and box fronts; decoration executed in pure Louis XV; handsome mahogany woodwork and the marble mosaic floor all lent the 1800 seat theatre an aura of splendour.

No less amusing than the dentist advertising in the Pavilion programme “painless extractions with nitrous oxide for 4/- (20p) or cocaine for 1/- (5p)”, were the press observations on the “fashionable company” which attended the Pavilion’s first house on 29th February,1904. We learn that “among the elite there was quite a preponderance of ladies and gentlemen of quality in evening dress”. Alas, class consciousness and respectability were all in Edwardian Britain!

The ‘forties and ‘fifties saw pantomime runs of sixteen weeks, the happy and hilarious summer seasons were emulated during the 1960s and early 1970s by Lex McLean. Another regular crowd puller to Renfield Street was Jack Milroy.

Lulu from Dennistoun (real name Marie Lawrie) broke box office records in 1975, Billy Connolly, Hector Nicol Andy Cameron portrayed their own distinctive brands of humour while Scottish songstresses Lena Zavaroni, , Sheena Easton, Lena Martell and Barbara Dickson also scored heavily with Pavilion audiences.

It was anything but plain sailing for the Pavilion and there was gloomy speculation of closure after incurring heavy financial losses in 1981. Spared the fate which befell the Queens, Metropole, Empire, Alhambra and Empress Theatres, the 80 years old Pavilion was rescued by James Glasgow and transformed into a modest profit maker. Smash-hit shows with Sydney Devine; spells from hypnotist Robert Halpern; pantomime with Denny Willis, and one night gigs from the foremost modern television entertainers have kept the cash tills registering.

The Pavilion also played a major role in the annual Mayfest – Glasgow’s International Festival of popular theatre, music, the arts and community programmes.

Little altered and virtually unspoilt since its inception, the seating capacity of 1449 is made up of 677 stalls, 341 circle, 413 balcony and 18 box seats. While the stiff shirts in chauffeur-driven cabs have given way to coach parties from the rural areas of Strathclyde and beyond, a policy of providing the best in live entertainment has been pursued consistently. The portents look good for the vibrant Pavilion Theatre of Varieties.”

The Pavillion is, in my view a survivor, even over the past few years tragedy has struck the area with a series of fires.

[tomorrowusa]

It's clear that America's autocratic enemies desperately want to elect Trump. It's the cheapest way for kleptocrats in Russia, North Korea, Iran, and North Korea to weaken the United States.

Foreign dictators manipulating US media is not new. But now we see Putin making direct monetary investments in platforms which promote stooges for the Kremlin.

The indictment unsealed in New York’s Southern District accused two employees of RT, the Kremlin’s media arm, of funneling nearly $10 million to an unidentified company, described only as “Company 1” in court documents. CNN has independently confirmed that “Company 1” is Tenet Media, which is a platform for independent content creators. It is self-described as a “network of heterodox commentators that focus on Western political and cultural issues,” according to its website, which matches language contained in the newly unsealed indictment. The alleged Russian operation tapped two people to set up the company in their names to add to its legitimacy and the two founders were aware Russian money backed the operation, according to the indictment. The goal of the operation, according to prosecutors, was to fuel pro-Russian narratives, in part, by pushing content and news articles favoring Republican presidential nominee Donald Trump and others who the Kremlin deemed to be friendlier to its interests. Among the commentators listed on Tenet Media’s website are right-wing personalities Benny Johnson, Tim Pool and Dave Rubin. All have released statements saying they were victims of the alleged Russian scheme and they maintained editorial control of the content they created. Each has a loyal fanbase online, with a combined roughly 6 million followers on YouTube alone. Pool interviewed Trump on his podcast in May.

Tenet Media was just one of Putin's tentacles in US media.

The DOJ’s revealing of the alleged Russian plot was part of a wider set of actions the Biden administration announced Wednesday it was taking to tackle a major Russian government-backed effort to influence the 2024 US presidential election including sanctions on 10 individuals and entities, and the seizure of 32 internet domains. At Russian President Vladimir Putin’s direction, three Russian companies used fake profiles to promote false narratives on social media, US Deputy Attorney General Lisa Monaco said in a statement. Internal documents produced by one of those Russian companies show one of the goals of the propaganda effort was to boost the candidacy of Trump or whoever emerged as the Republican nominee for president, according to an FBI affidavit.

Putin tried to deflect the negative publicity by claiming he liked Kamala Harris's laugh. Of course his puppet Weird Donald doesn't have a laugh – just a malicious sneer.

Putin will continue to try to interfere in elections until it becomes too costly for him to do so.

RELATED: The Kremlin has Putin-friendly influencers sowing pro-Trump propaganda.

Unsealed FBI Doc Exposes Terrifying Depth of Russian Disinfo Scheme

Of particular note, the documents released Wednesday included an affidavit that noted a Russian company is keeping a list of more than 2,800 influencers world wide, about one-fifth of whom are based in the United States, to monitor and potentially groom to spread Russian propaganda. The affidavit does not mention the full list of influencers, but is still a terrifying indicator of how deep the Russian plot to interfere in U.S. politics really goes. The Doppelganger program and its “Good Old USA Project” aimed to mimic mainstream media outlets to push pro-Russian policies through fake social media accounts. Documents show that the Kremlin specifically targeted Trump supporters, minorities, gamers, and swing-state voters by spreading far-right conspiracies and capitalizing on existing divisions in U.S. politics. ”They are afraid of losing the American way of life and the ‘American dream,’” Ilya Gambashidze, an architect of the project, wrote, outlining his scheme. “It is these sentiments that should be exploited in the course of an information campaign in/for the United States.” To do so, the Russian government would emphasize that Republicans are “victims of discrimination of people of color” and promote conspiracies that white middle-class people are being discriminated against. The “guerrilla media” plan needed to not only plant falsehoods, but also spread them far and wide. They targeted gamers and chatroom users, who they described as the “backbone of the right-wing trends in the US segment of the Internet,” and monitored social media influencers.

[dee-in-the-box]

happy pride month, y'all! have some pride headcanons!!

none of these people are straight and/or cis to me. they've all got some weird queerness going on with them

Jack: transmasc (he/him mostly, but probably wouldn't mind they/them that much), bisexual. could see him being acespec, but sex favorable or indifferent. polyamorous.

Dave: nonbinary in a "i don't understand gender and idgaf about it" way (he/him, but honestly doesn't care. probably would find out about it/its pronouns and love those), pansexual. teach this guy about xenogenders i think he'd love those too. polyamorous (i can see it).

Peter: transfem bigender (he/she), and honestly doesn't know what her sexuality would be considering his weird gender situation (look, he grew up in the 50s-60s. the most exposure to the queer community she had was through Jack, and that wasn't. A Lot). me personally? i'd say lesbian. because Fuck It, Why Not?

Dee: technically cis because she never got to grow up and figure that stuff out (she/her), but i could see her growing up and being on the spectrum of GNC or Genderqueer (the genderqueer part is Definitely not me projecting (< lie)). also aroace (repulsed on both ends)

Henry: cis man (he/him; the first entirely cis person here), bisexual. listen. i heard that thing that was like. DD originally said he was bi but then changed it to straight after getting hate for it for some reason, and i decided to make it a situation where Henry just like. Acknowledged it was a thing for him but didn't really give any fucks because he busy Committing Crimes Against Humanity. everyone thinks he's straight though, 'cause he never mentions it (again, busy with Other Things. such as Causing Problems).

Steven: cis man (he/him), gay. This Is The Shortest Fucking One. also, Steven is the shortest adult of the cast; he's 5'5".

Harry: masc nonbinary dude (he/they), bisexual, polyamorous.

Jake: cis man (he/him), graysexual panromantic, polyamorous.

Roger: probably got some genderfuckery there, but i'll just say A Dude (gender neutral) for now (he/him), gay (as in Likes Men Or Masc-Leaning People), polyamorous. didn't realize the Gay & Poly Part until Dsaf 3. You'll Never Guess How He Found Out!

Rebecca: transfem (she/they/xe), and just queer in general. not exactly poly, but she doesn't mind Harry's...other partners (Jake and Roger). it's sort of a "This is my boyfriend, and this is my boyfriend's boyfriends! ^-^" situation.

and for a few others:

Caroline: cis woman (she/her), cupioromantic (aromantic micro-label; basically means that you don't feel romantic attraction, but still desire a romantic relationship) heterosexual. she still loves Peter, her love just isn't necessarily "romantic." i'd describe it more like queerplatonic. she got married to Peter because she does genuinely care for him and love him, but also because...well, it was what was expected of her. besides, she doesn't mind being married, it's actually pretty nice. Caroline's as close as y'all are going to get to a cishet Dsaf character from these headcanons.

Matt: transmasc agender (he/him), aroace (romance indifferent/favorable (see: "I'm Matt! Everybody loves me!"), sex indifferent/repulsed (do i even need to explain it? i think we know why this was what i picked for him).

now, fun facts!!

Jack actually doesn't experience a lot of dysphoria, just upset that he doesn't have a dick. he doesn't even mind the boobs too much (except that they make people think he's a woman; that part sucks), he'd probably just like a binder. wouldn't mind top surgery, but y'know. Binders Are Easier To Get And Cheaper Than That.

Dee is romance repulsed in terms of herself for the most part (as in the idea of being romantic herself grosses her out). except for Davesport. she told Jack and Dave to "get a room" multiple times in the Flipside.

Blackjack technically has the same labels as Jack, but y'know. Ghost Dog.

Henry doesn't understand why so many queer people work at Fazbender's (Jack, Steven, Peter, etc) because he just. keeps killing them. not due to the queerness but because They Keep Getting In His Way. what is it about the Chuck E Cheese rip-offs that attracts the gays?? Is It The Bears?? Is It The Fucking BEARS??? (i had to make the joke. i had to)

Modern Day Queer Discourse would piss Jack off. he was alive in the 60s and 70s when that shit was getting more mainstream. he's effectively a queer elder, technically (even if he kinda sorta Looks perpetually twenty-two because he kinda can't age anymore). he's seen some shit. i can see him saying on someone's "He/Him Lesbians Aren't A Thing >:(" post "my bigender brother is a lesbian, though. he's got a wife" and then logging off. you can't tell me he wouldn't

I Stand By My Statement: None Of The Kennedy Siblings Have A Normal Relationship With Gender. They Just Don't.

Jack just uses a lot of slurs for himself. he's got. So Fucking Many that he can reclaim (because y'know. Gay/Bi and Trans. and he was alive during the 60s and 70s. so you can only imagine the shit he's heard or had thrown at him).

the first time in his life that Dave ever had to worry about gender stuff was when Henry was having to like. fill out paperwork and things like that to get him an ID of some kind. when they got to gender, Dave didn't really know why that was important, nor what would really fit. they just put "male" on there because technically that would "fit him best" (since he, y'know. has a dick), but Dave didn't feel like either option fit.

i feel like Jack went to a pride event/parade sometime before Dsaf 3. like, maybe he finally felt comfortable actually going there and being out safely for the first time in his life. it was nice.

Caroline helped Peter with her makeup after she came out, and with growing his hair out.

after coming home post-Dsaf 2, Peter actually tried some dresses out. they also found out a way to still put eyeliner on him. and that was using a Sharpie to draw under her phone dial to look like eyeliner. hey, it works.

Peter never got comfortable enough to wear lipstick before he died, though :( so she never got to experience that

Jack: "If I had a nickel for every time I was someone's gay awakening, I'd have three nickels. Which isn't a lot, but how does this keep happening-" (the three people in question are Dave, Jake, and Roger)

i have so many more istg, but this post is getting long. might talk about some more if anyone's interested, though!

[adamwatchesmovies]

Glengarry Glen Ross (1992)

Glengarry Glen Ross was on my watch list but I couldn’t remember what it was about as I hit "play". While traveling for work, I found some time to sit down and watch it from my hotel room, which is ironic considering the subject matter. The way it makes you think you've got a character figured out - until you don't - takes you through so many different emotional states that it becomes unforgettable.

At a real estate company, four salesmen – Richard Roma (Al Pacino), Sheldon Levene (Jack Lemmon), George Aaronow (Alan Arkin) and Dave Moss (Ed Harris) – receive a visit from a motivational speaker from the firm. After a barrage of insults, Blake (Alec Baldwin) informs them that at the end of the week, the top seller will receive a new car, while the bottom two sellers will lose their jobs.

Before Blake comes in to give his legendary speech, you see the four salesmen run through their arsenal of tricks in unsuccessful attempts to sell the real estate they’ve been assigned. No one outside of Richard seems to have any success and all everyone does is complain to the office manager, John Williamson (Kevin Spacey). Everyone claims the leads (the names and phone numbers of potential buyers) are worthless, that their sale numbers are down because of the leads, that if they could only have access to the Glengarry Highlands development leads, they would have some great numbers to show and so on. You think to yourself “These loser con artists are constantly making excuses. What they need is to be taught a lesson.” Then, Blake comes in. You’ve probably heard some excerpts of his profanity-filled “Closers” speech but you’re not ready for just how detestable a “motivational speaker” he is. Half of the office losing their job at the end of the week? What kind of soulless corporate weasels would agree to such a thing? Now, the way you feel about Richard, Sheldon, George and Dave has shifted. They’re still losers but you feel bad for them.

That’s a drastic shift to go through within only a few minutes and it’s not the only one you’ll experience listening to the brilliant dialogue by David Mamet (who bases the screenplay off of his play by the same name). You think you’ve got a character figured out and then they’ll say or do something that will make you place them in a completely different camp. You have no idea how the film will end, who will get fired, who will keep their job, or even where the characters will be positioned on the “love ‘em or loathe them” scale by the time the credits start rolling.

When a film is based on a play, you can usually tell. The limited number of locations and characters, the heavy emphasis on dialogue, etc. give away that what you’re seeing is an adaptation of a different medium. The theater might have a lot in common with film but it differs in some important ways. In Glengarry Glen Ross, you can hardly tell because keeping the action within just a few places and focusing on what the characters are saying is the choice director James Foley would've made regardless. Other non-sales-related characters and places are alluded to but we almost never actually go there or talk to them. After Blake's speech, they don’t matter. The deadline introduced is suffocating, it’s shrinking the world around these people. We’ll get to relax after it’s all done. Seeing a world beyond the sales? That’s for closers.

Earlier this year, a motivational speaker was brought in to talk in my department at work. They talked a lot about courage, about standing up and getting things done so you would feel good about the goals you’d set for yourself personally and professionally. The reaction from my coworkers was mixed. I heard someone describe the speaker as “Someone who must've realized one day that you can make a living by regurgitating inspirational boards you see for sale in the Home Décor section”. I wonder how everyone would've felt if we instead got someone like Blake. I'm glad all I have to do is wonder. It's not just the "Closers" speech that makes Glengarry Glen Ross memorable, however. The great dialogue, excellent performances, the way it gets you to keep changing your perspective and the suffocating deadline imposed on the characters makes it a film you can't forget. (October 7, 2024)

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Dave Whammond

* * * *

Don’t be Glenn Youngkin. History will remember.

October 15, 2024

Robert B. Hubbell

In a speech on Monday, Kamala Harris significantly ratcheted up her attacks on Donald Trump's ugly threats to persecute his political enemies. She described Trump as increasingly “unstable and unhinged.” Harris’s comments came four days after Trump called for the military to be deployed against the “enemy within”—enemies identified by Trump as the “radical left.” See MSNBC, Trump suggests using the military to address ‘the enemy from within’. Trump later identified Rep. Adam Schiff as one of the “enemy within.”

Trump made the following statements to Fox personality Maria Bartiromo in an interview last Friday:

I think the bigger problem is the enemy from within. We have some very bad people. We have some sick people, radical left lunatics. . . . It should be very easily handled by, if necessary, by National Guard — or if really necessary, by the military, because they can’t let that happen.

Trump's threats of using the military are not idle. During his term, he repeatedly ordered his subordinates to use the US military against civilians—including “just shoot[ing] protesters in the legs”—but those subordinates refused or ignored his orders. See, e.g., Council on Foreign Relations (6/5/2020), Trump’s Threat to Use the Military Against Protesters: What to Know.

In her speech in Eerie, Pennsylvania, Kamala Harris strongly condemned Trump's threats to use the military against political opponents. See CNN, Harris uses Trump’s ‘enemy from within’ comment to portray GOP rival as dangerous and unstable.

Kamala Harris’s new aggressiveness against Trump's promised despotism is something that many (frustrated) Democratic faithful have been hoping for. Harris’s full speech in Eerie is here: YouTube | Kamala Harris in Eerie, PA. It is worth watching the entire thirty-minute speech.

If you don’t have time to watch the entire speech, I urge you to watch the final ten minutes. Kamala Harris is on fire as she describes Trump as the threat to democracy he is. And she uses a video montage of Trump's repeated threats to persecute his political enemies. It is a “must-watch” moment of history. See YouTube | Kamala Harris addresses Trump's comments re "the enemy within".

Go ahead and watch the final ten minutes of Kamala’s speech, here. I’ll wait!

Using the military against civilians is the common tactic of fascist governments everywhere. It is a singular moment in American history when a major party candidate is using threats of military force against US citizens as a campaign promise.

How did we get here? Answer: Glenn Youngkin.

Why Glenn Youngkin? Because Youngkin spent Sunday excusing and defending Trump's threat to use the military against Americans. Trump makes such threats because spineless cowards like Glenn Youngkin not only refuse to condemn him but rise to defend him. In the absence of the Glenn Youngkins of the world (and his ilk), there would be no cover for Trump's obscene threats against Americans and the rule of law.

On Sunday, Jake Tapper read Trump's comments to Glenn Youngkin and asked the governor of Virginia to condemn Trump's remarks. In a tortured five minutes, Youngkin refused, repeatedly claiming that Tapper was “misinterpreting” Trump's remarks. When Tapper repeatedly said, “I am reading his comments verbatim, let me show you the video,” Youngkin refused to condemn the comments and suggested that Trump didn’t mean what he said.

See CNN, Tapper presses Youngkin on Trump’s authoritarian rhetoric. If you can, watch five minutes of this interview. Warning: You may nauseous.

Youngkin clearly (and wrongly) believes he has a political future that is dependent on not angering Trump's cultish base. Youngkin has made the political calculation that advancing his future political prospects is more important than protecting Americans against a threat of military force to achieve the partisan pollical goals of the president.

Can you imagine what the Framers would say about such a proposition?

Glenn Youngkin is, of course, a surrogate for every Republican politician who pretends to be a reasonable and moral leader with the nation's best interests at heart. In reality, they are faithless cowards whose only loyalty is to themselves. They represent the worst of America. They are depraved, soulless, and spineless. The are cloyingly self-righteous as they look straight at the camera and lie for someone JD Vance called “America’s Hitler.”

There will be a time (soon) when Americans will face a moral and political reckoning for the depravity of the Trump presidency and MAGA movement. There is no ambiguity in where the moral and political judgments will fall or how future historians will view Trump's supporters, enablers, and co-conspirators.

They are hoping only that they can delay that day of reckoning on which their white nationalism, racism, misogyny, xenophobia, and depravity will be universally condemned. The historical precedents for such a reckoning abound.

On Monday, Kamala Harris began the process of moral and political reckoning. Good. She should keep it up until the major media begins every news cycle with this headline, “Candidate for US presidency threatens to use US military against Americans.” There is no story bigger than that—and it deserves to be at the top of the news 24/7 until Election Day.

Trump holds bizarre campaign rally that turns into a 39-minute Trump dance party

As Kamala Harris was calling Trump “unstable and unhinged” during her campaign rally in Eerie, PA, Trump was proving Harris’s point at his rally in Oaks, PA. Trump was supposed to host a townhall, but answered only two questions in his incoherent, non-linear, incomprehensible fashion. After two people in the crowd fainted, Trump said,

Let’s not do any more questions. Let’s just listen to music. Let’s make it into a music. Who the hell wants to hear questions, right?

 See WaPo, Trump sways and bops to music for 39 minutes in bizarre town-hall episode. (Accessible to all.)

The bizarre scene is described by WaPo as follows:

For 39 minutes, Trump swayed, bopped — sometimes stopping to speak — as he turned the event into almost a living-room listening session of his favorite songs from his self-curated rally playlist. He played nine tracks. He danced. He shook hands with people onstage. He pointed to the crowd. Noem stood beside him, nodding with her hands clasped. Trump stayed in place onstage, slowly moving back and forth. He was done answering questions for the night. [¶] . . . . Trump’s decision to cut the question-and-answer portion of the town hall short and instead have the crowd stay to listen to his favorite songs was a somewhat bizarre move, given that the election was only 22 days away. It also comes as Vice President Kamala Harris has called Trump, 78, unstable and called into question his mental acuity.

Trump is descending into madness. The major media should lead every news cycle with scorching questions about Trump's mental fitness—right after stories about his promise to use the military against the American people. Trump is unraveling in front of our eyes. Make sure everyone knows about this story. It is important—especially given that Biden was forced out of the race over a single debate performance.

[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]

[magnus-sm-writes]

Magnus' Spooky Recommendations! 🎃

To get into the mood for today, here are Magnus’ favorite scary recommendations! I’m organizing them into sections for convenience. These are a combination of short stories, books, movies, and even a couple albums. Feel free to share your spooky recs; I love discovering new scary things to love!

Haunted Houses! 👻

“Stone Animals” by Kelly Link (mind-bending): A haunted house story that is so incredibly claustrophobic it made me dissociate the first two times I read it. Mind-bending is a good way to describe it. “Stone Animals” is a very long short story, but it’s such an atmospheric read that it doesn’t feel like it drags. A haunted house that drives the entire family living inside it nuts in unique ways. I highly recommend it, but don’t read it on an airplane like I did (the second time around).

Coraline (2009), dir. Henry Selick (childhood favorite): Neil Gaiman’s actions aside, the movie is a fantastic piece of media that enchanted baby Magnus and horrified his mother. The soundtrack is one of my favorite albums ever, and gets played in my car on multiple playlists all the time. It’s a classic for a reason, though not my favorite Laika film, because I refuse to let it top ParaNorman. 

Guts! Guts! Guts! 🩸

Alien Virus Love Disaster by Abby Mei Otis (gore, with feelings!): Take a dip into the grotesque with this gnarly short story collection from Small Beer press. The stories range from more emotional with less nasty bits (“Moonkids”, “Not an Alien Story”, “If You Could Be God of Anything”) to body horror (“I’m Sorry Your Daughter Got Eaten by a Cougar”) to a story that actually made me gag when I read it (“Rich People”). Otis has something for every lover of the grotesque in this collection.

Visions of Bodies Being Burned & There Existed an Addiction to Blood by clipping. (love letter to horror): A trippy, hair-raising pair of albums that brings horrorcore to clipping.’s industrial noiserap. (Yes, I am pretentious like that.) Two of the most interesting albums to ever be released. My favorite hits include “Enlacing”, “Blood of the Fang”, “Club Down”, “La Mala Ordina”, and “Looking Like Meat”. Daveed Diggs’ vocals are unmatched.

Hannibal, dir. Bryan Fuller (tasteful cannibalism): One of my favorite seasonal re-watches. Season one is my favorite, especially the mushroom episode. Some of the most beautiful cinematography on television I’ve ever seen. Also, fabulous gender-swapping of characters in Thomas Harris’ works.

Psychological! 🧠

You Too Can Have a Body Like Mine by Alexandra Kleeman (peel your skin off discomfort): This book is uncomfortable. It was part of my inspiration for my senior capstone project, Body, and it definitely shows. The main character’s roommate tries to become her. With targeted ads, weird cults, and a general sense of not belonging in your body, Kleeman really makes you want to peel off your skin to get a little more comfortable. (Or to see who’s really under there.)

Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk (mind-bending): Both the movie and the novel have left me stunned. Even if you know the twist through cultural osmosis, I highly recommend both. Another piece of media that has made me dissociate multiple times after consuming. While I’m not a fan of Palahniuk’s other works, he really hit it out of the park with Fight Club.

The Secret History by Donna Tartt (atmosphere to die for): A great piece of psychological literary fiction where bad people do bad things and reap the consequences. Is it a pretentious pick? Probably. But I still adore it. My mom adores it, and that means something, because she’s super picky about psychological horror. I’m making my grandmother read it. It’s a classic for a reason.

Witches, Magic, & Folk Horror! 🐈‍⬛

ParaNorman (2012), dir. Sam Fell & Chris Butler (love letter to horror): My senior yearbook quote was from this movie; I’ve written academic papers about this movie; I have Norman Babcock tattooed on my calf forever. Of course this movie would be on here. It’s a love letter to cheesy 80s horror movies. This movie is my ultimate comfort and my favorite feel-good movie to cry to.

The Witch (2015), dir. Robert Eggers (atmosphere to die for): The most accurate historical portrayal of Calvinist culture I’ve ever seen on screen, while being compelling. We watched this in my witches class. It’s genuinely one of the most perfect films on witches I’ve ever seen. 

The Ritual (2017), dir. David Bruckner (atmosphere to die for): If I could watch this again for the first time, I would choose it in a heartbeat. A top-tier piece of psychological horror that leaves you feeling like you’re right there with the characters. Moder is one of the best creatures I’ve ever seen, designed by Keith Thompson (who also designed Ratma in “Storm Drain” from VHS 94). 

“The Ghost You Left Behind” by Magnus Singer-McLeod (love letter to the genre): I have to promote my own short story here because this is my blog and I make the rules. We've got psychics, ghosts, missing people, demons, and a gay romance; it’s got a little bit of everything I love about the autumn season. I’m biased, but I highly recommend.

Eco-Horror! 🪲

“42”, Doctor Who (BURN WITH ME): A cheesy, time-sensitive eco-horror episode. It has all the best hallmarks of the RTD era, including my beloved Martha Jones. A fun watch!

Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer (atmosphere to die for): The first time I read this book, I read it in a day. It’s a fast read I pull out when I’m in a slump and just need a weird, atmospheric read to pull me into the world of the Weird. Having a biologist as the main character makes the setting of Area X shine. She’s so deeply fascinated by the weird place she’s in that you’re pulled in just as much as she is. So fucking creepy. (Shoutout to the bear scene in the movie, which makes my skin crawl.)

Polar Trauma! ❄️

Solar Trauma by Philip Sorenson (peel your skin off discomfort): This poetry collection is loosely based on The Thing, and inspired my own hivemind poetry collection. It is so fucking good. Grotesque, psychological, uncomfortable. One of the strangest, most fascinating poetry collections I have ever had the pleasure of reading. 

The Thing (1982), dir. John Carpenter (perfect creature work): One of the greatest body horror films of all time. The practical effects are unmatched. A horror movie where everyone is intelligent, realistic, and untrustworthy. “The Ultimate in Alien Terror” doesn’t even begin to cover it. I will go through periods where I watch this movie every single night for a month without growing tired of it.

The Terror (2018), dir. David Kajganich & Soo Hugh (atmosphere to die for): As someone who’s read both the book and watched the show, just watch Wendigoon’s video on the topic instead of reading the novel for historical context, then watch the show. The creeping sense of dread is nearly unparalleled. Tuunbaq is one of the most terrifying creatures I’ve ever laid eyes on. Colonizers meet their fate, and it is both horrifically tragic and incredibly justified. Fantastic rewatch value.