I mean, in some very interesting Technically Correct ways, they didn't actually die? Now, they're very much no longer alive. But the forces involved are such that they didn't get any of the usual cellular processes of death, they simply went from biology to physics in less time than it takes a signal to travel down your optic nerve.
I shrieked when Debbie just sat herself down at the table full of mobsters to sternly interrogate them on their involvement with her husband's past. there's no doubt in my mind that this is a sapphic love story because how on earth could Judith NOT be in love with a woman like this? housewife my ass, this 4'3" firecracker with her love of a to-do list stole Judith's heart from the word go
This is the current list of petitions to prevent US prisoners from being subjected to the death penalty. For further information, visit Death Penalty Action at their website (linked in-text).
Two men are scheduled for execution on July 28th, 2026, a week from today. One is an 80 year old man (do authorities really need to kill this already imprisoned elderly man to prevent further harm, or does an authoritarian government perhaps have alternate motives for normalizing and desensitizing the public to law enforcement as the arbiter of life and death?), and the other is a man who may yet be proven innocent.
The trauma of a prison sentence cannot be undone, but should the prisoner be found misjudged and acquitted, prison time can be compensated for through a hefty legal settlement (though not without a fight). The death penalty, however, can never be recompensed. If the government executes an innocent man, there is no chance that he receives justice for their mistake. Death is final.
Please consider signing and sharing the petitions on the list I have linked above.
Prompt of the day: Magda and Heather decide to be a little more hands on when killing a Russian assassin that’s after them. 🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪
I am late as hell. But when else should i have written this if not while procrastinating writing something much more important?
🔪🔪🔪
There really wasn’t any need for Magda to carry a knife.
You could just about make the shape of it under the hem of her pants – she’d carefully inserted it in her left ankle high sock, and the handle was sticking out just a little, not enough to recognise it for what it was, but enough to know that something was there.
Enough to be threatened by it if you were the Russian guy sitting a few tables away, perusing the menu with more intention than needed.
Magda wasn’t sure he’d spotted it, anyway. And, really, it was simply a sort of reassurance for herself, a relic of her past.
It would have been wasted on him, she thought. It really was a magnificent little blade, with a slender, elegant handle made of ivory, with inlaid silver accents. Too precious to grace his skin.
He’d been following them for a week now. She’d realised soon enough, but Heather hadn’t been that slower than her. Her wife had found it amusing, how this child – he couldn’t have been more than twenty years old – had thought he could outsmart them. He’d committed so many mistakes in his pursuit that they’d just decided to play with him for a while, feigning obliviousness and waiting for him to make his move.
He was probably a recent recruit who they’d sent to deal with Magda, deeming her too old to put up a real fight. An easy target for a trainee.
She scoffed. Their teachings must have been lacking if that kid had made it as a spy.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Heather asked, slightly tilting her head to the side.
She was giving her back to the guy, while Magda had a clear view. Heather trusted her to promptly react in her aid if he tried anything. Not that she needed any protection: Magda suspected her wife had realised that she enjoyed coming to her rescue, and didn’t want to deprive her of such joy. Typical.
Magda finished chewing and gulped slowly. “I was just musing on the state of current spy training programs.”
Heather chuckled. “You really aren’t a fan of modern education, are you?”
Magda shot her a meaningful look – to which Heather replied with a grin – and then went back to her salad.
“Do you think today’s the day?” Heather said, as colloquially as she would have commented on the weather.
Magda frowned slightly. “I hope so. I’m growing tired of our little game.”
The place was deserted and secluded enough that his act would go unnoticed. She knew the restaurant had a “see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil” policy – the italian guy that ran it was probably working under the mafia. He did make a great mushroom pizza, though.
“You really have no patience with children,” Heather smiled, fidgeting with her fork.
“Certain children make it really hard.”
She risked a look at the guy, but he was focused on his steak, which was certainly miles better than what they usually fed him, despite the subpar quality of the dish. Giuseppe really should have rebranded as a simple pizzeria.
The cold presence against her ankle sent a shiver up her leg. Her hand ached to reach down and end this pointless little charade.
Surely Heather would have agreed. It didn’t seem she had much compassion for him, even given his age. She definitely shared the desire for an uneventful rest of their life, after Mystery Bay.
Heather leaned forward conspiratorially. “I have a little vial in my purse. A brief distraction and a little sleight of hand… if you catch my drift.”
Magda did catch her drift. “What is it?”
“Oh, I’m not going to tell you,” Heather pouted. “You’re going to say that it’s a bad choice and that I should have gone with something else instead, with a shorter latency period or a softer smell…”
Magda raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? You didn’t consider those factors? At all?”
“I did! But I also really want to use this. Even if it’s inconvenient.”
“The suspence is killing me, Heather,” Magda said, making sure to inject just a little bit of sarcasm into it. “Would you just come out and say its name?”
And then it happened. Fast.
Heather opened her mouth. The guy jumped to his feet and sprinted forward.
And then stopped dead in his tracks.
Magda sighed. Sure, red looked good on ivory, but she’d have to clean it anyway.
He looked down at his stomach and then up at her. Heather was watching from the side with mild disinterest, gently taking the syringe he’d intended to use on her from his hand.
“I thought you’d said no weapons,” she said, storing the object in a plastic bag and putting it away in her purse for later.
Magda shrugged. “Simple precaution. I didn’t intend to use it.”
“Hm,” Heather said, unconvinced. “What do we do with him?”
He watched them converse as if taking a stroll at the park or wondering about what to eat for dinner. His eyes growing wider by the minute, his face pale.
“I’ll have to finish what I started.”
Heather nodded. “Just don’t lie to me and say you aren’t enjoying this.”
Magda twisted the knife, the kid squirmed, and she knew Heather was right. Some part of her had missed this, and it was resurfacing faster than she’d suspected.
He slowly flopped to the floor, landing on his knees, clutching Magda’s hand in a futile attempt to free himself from her grasp.
“Oh, you want me to extract it?” she asked innocently, as he shook his head with force. “I’ll keep you happy then,” she smiled, devious.
It was a split second decision on her part: away from the stomach and mercifully across the throat. He stopped squirming then.
Magda stepped aside as he fell on his face, blood quickly pooling under him. The blade in her hand felt warm now.
Heather sighed. “What a mess.”
It was then that Magda snapped out of it, realizing Heather had almost died. She glanced at the bloodied weapon and she was suddenly glad of having to wash it.
“Not ours to clean, right, Giuseppe?” Magda said, shooting a meaningful look at the restaurant owner, who nodded silently.
Heather got to her feet, hands trembling ever so slightly as she grabbed her purse, eyes never leaving the corpse at her side. “Still. What a waste of a good pizza. See? It got all over the crust,” she said, pointing at the blood. Her voice was thin.
Magda stepped over the body, her free hand on the small of Heather’s back, guiding her away.
And as they got out, she glanced one last time at the kid. “What a waste indeed,” she said softly.
I honestly think Gen-Z and younger simply does not understand how recent widespread smartphone adoption is.
I am not that old, and I didn't have a smartphone until probably late high school. For most of my life, many if not most people were not walking around with a magic internet machine in their pocket that they pulled out and used constantly for everything.
I’m rewatching Rizzoli and Isles - did you know it’s on Netflix now - and just got to the part where Frank comes back and calls Maura “people” and Jane is like “People? That’s Maura!”
Like sir don’t disrespect her wife who has done more for this family than you ever did!
yousharknotpass
gummygunk
tangentwithtanner
prguitarman
snowghoul
romaincrisis
