#his name was Sebastian and yes he's a conservative

[hagstones-and-howling-hills]

Guy in the working class meeting just said he opposes unions. This is the North. Read the fucking room.

[steelbluehome]

The Associated Press News

They made a movie about Trump. Then no one would release it

By  JAKE COYLE

September 4, 2024

NEW YORK (AP) — Hard as it may be to believe, there aren’t a lot of Hollywood agents clamoring for their star clients to take the role of one of the polarizing political figures of the 21st century.

Sebastian Stan, though, was committed to “The Apprentice.” More than anything, he believed in its director, the Iranian Danish filmmaker Ali Abbasi. And, even though it made him nervous — or maybe because it made it him nervous — he wanted to do it. He wanted to play Donald Trump.

“There wasn’t a lot of competition,” Stan says, chuckling.

“It was one of those things I thought: If this isn’t going to happen, it’s not going to happen because of me,” Stan says. “It’s not going to not happen because I’m scared.”

By a landslide, “The Apprentice” is the most controversial movie of the fall. It stars Stan as a young Trump playing apprentice to the attorney Roy Cohn ( Jeremy Strong ) while trying to make a name for himself in 1980s New York real estate. Already, “The Apprentice” has had one of the most tortured paths to movie theaters of any 2024 release.

After its debut at the Cannes Film Festival, all the major studios and top specialty labels passed on making an offer. One potential issue was a cease and desist letter from Trump’s legal team. Another was that one of the movie’s investors — Dan Snyder, the former owner of the Washington Commanders and a Trump supporter — wanted to exit the movie.

Only last week, Briarcliff Entertainment announced that it will open “The Apprentice” on Oct. 11, just weeks before Election Day. And it’s still fighting for more screens. On Tuesday, the filmmakers took the unusual step of launching a Kickstarter crowdsourcing campaign to raise money for its release.

“This project has been pretty crazy, from beginning to the end,” Abbasi says. “It’s still not completely there. It’s going to get more crazy, maybe.”

Trump’s reelection campaign has vigorously opposed the movie. After its Cannes debut, Trump campaign spokesperson Steven Cheung called the film “pure fiction.” On Friday, after its release date was confirmed, Cheung declared it “election interference by Hollywood elites.”

What role, if any, “The Apprentice” might play in the lead-up to Nov. 5 will be one of the most notable storylines at the movies this fall. While many Hollywood stars are vocal supporters of Democratic nominee Kamala Harris, it’s far rarer that plainly political films squeak through today’s sequel- and superhero-dominated movie industry. That makes for a unique election-year test case: Will liberals want to see a film about Trump? Will conservatives turn out for a film Trump opposes?

Abbasi, whose previous film “Holy Spider” turned a questioning eye on Iranian society through the story of a serial killer targeting women, says he’s not trying to tell anyone how to vote.

“Do I want to show you some stuff about character? Yes, I would very much love that and I think we have some great stuff to show,” says Abbasi. “What you do with that knowledge is up to you. But that knowledge might come in handy if you want to go and vote.”

To Abbasi, grappling with contemporary politics is his responsibility as a filmmaker. As ubiquitous as Trump is, Abbasi argues there have been paltry attempts to really understand the former president.

“With Donald and Ivana, they’ve never really been treated as human beings,” Abbasi says. “They’re either treated badly or extremely good — it’s like this mythological thing. The only way if you want to break that myth is to deconstruct it. I think a humanistic view is the best way you can deconstruct that myth.”

“For me, the best comp for him is Barry Lyndon,” Abbasi adds, referencing the Stanley Kubrick film of the same name. “When you think about Barry Lyndon, you don’t think about that guy as being a bad guy or a good guy. He has this ambivalence and this uncanny ability to navigate. He wants to be somebody. He doesn’t really know what or why. He just sort of wants to ascend.”

“The Apprentice” found a mixed reception from critics at Cannes, though Stan and Strong were widely praised. The movie notably includes a scene in which Trump, as played by Stan, rapes Ivana (played by Maria Bakalova). In Ivana Trump’s 1990 divorce deposition, she stated that Trump raped her. Trump denied the allegation and Ivana Trump later said she didn’t mean it literally, but rather that she had felt violated.

But, Abbasi maintains, “The Apprentice” is not a hit job. He has insisted that Trump, himself, might like the movie. At the same time, some critics have questioned whether “The Apprentice” shows too much empathy to Trump and Cohn, who was Sen. Joseph McCarthy’s chief counsel during the 1954 communist hearings.

“I don’t think any of us are above it. I don’t think any of us are born perfect people or we’re not morally compromised,” says Stan. “It’s really, really much muddier and trickier than that, life is. I think the only way we can learn is through empathy. I think we have to protect empathy and continue to nourish it. And I think one way of nourishing empathy is showing what its exact opposite can be.”

Stan, who plays Bucky Barnes (the Winter Soldier) in Marvel movies, was drawn to the film partly because the Copenhagen-based Abbasi brought a European perspective. It’s something that Stan, who was born in Romania and emigrated to the New York area with his mother at age 12, partly shares. He views the film as an origin story for a “win at all costs” ideology.

Strong is much more renowned for staying in character. (Abbasi recalls sometimes being confused by Strong’s demeanor on set before he realized he was still Roy Cohn.) But Stan also, unwittingly, dabbled in such immersion. He points to his diet, including one scene in which he repeatedly ate cheeseballs.

“I must have had, like, 25 to 30 cheeseballs that night,” Stan says. “The next morning I woke up and, I’m sorry to say, but I was on the toilet at 6:30 in the morning before I was getting picked up. And I was in such pain. I couldn’t leave that toilet. It was like: Yeah, I guess this is method acting.”

When the fate of “The Apprentice” seemed uncertain, Abbasi was in disbelief. He felt he had made an edgy film, but an entertaining one.

“I always thought of the United States, yes, it’s not a perfect place. But one thing was always repeated to me: This is the land of the free. This is the land of freedom of speech. You can say what you want here,” says Abbasi. “That’s not what I’ve been met with. I’ve been met with sheer business calculations.”

Strong echoes those sentiments.

“It was almost effectively banned, and I find that, alone, very frightening and a harbinger of dark things,” says Strong. “But first and foremost it’s a movie. It’s not a political act or a political event. It’s a movie.”

All three of them, ultimately, just want people to see “The Apprentice” — if possible, with an open mind.

“We’re in a very black-and-white mentality right now, and I went into this movie knowing that,” Stan says. “But let’s take the road less traveled, and maybe other people will, too. I think we have to look at public figures that are consequential in our times, in our lives and we have to reflect and evaluate them.”

[blorbocedes]

For ships you don't care : Sico (I blame you for this)

What ever Jenson and Nico's ship name is

I care very much about sico, anon 😔😭 here's a uni au........ yes I am one billion years late to the prompt shhh

"I thought you hated me." Sebastian grinned, infectious charm, easy going with baby blue eyes as he leaned over to steal one of Nico's fries that he hadn't touched. It's greasy deliciousness, the sort that will definitely clog your arteries and Seb wondered if Nico's used to artisanal fries, cut from the freshest ethically sourced potatoes or whatever they did in Monaco.

Nico wrinkled his nose, taking a sip from his iced tea he was absolutely getting ripped off for -- it was definitely just instant mix tea and sugar and one sad mint leaf, but it had been the most expensive drink at the rundown budget cafe outside the university.

"I thought you were sleeping with Professor Schumacher." Nico admitted evenly. Not only had that course been hell, with the most unforgiving grading and people literally changing their aeronautical engineering degrees over retaking it -- the professor was terrifying; his list of accolades spoke for itself, it was supposed to be an honour to get in his course at all, even though he seemed disinterested in actually teaching, published and tenured after all. He had taken a special liking to Sebastian, who loudmouthed asked questions everyone else was afraid they'd surely get made fun of -- or ask to leave altogether. Sebastian who got comfortable enough to pick debates, and for everyone else in class it was like eavesdropping on a private conversation. Nico kept his head down, submitted everything on time, quit everything two weeks before finals and still got a B+. Sebastian had an A-. 2/5ths of the class did not pass.

Sebastian giggled. A lot of people thought that. They're playing a game of first impressions, and Sebastian's playing a side game of stealing Nico's fries. Nico had the air of someone who was meant to be someone, with his good posture and crossed legs and expensive clothes. But first impressions can be deceiving, no matter how much Sebastian liked to pass off as who you were seeing was who you were getting. People liked him way more when they thought they knew him, and many people thought they did.

Nobody liked Nico. Well, Jenson did, but Jenson liked everyone. And Sebastian had to admit his first impression of the beautiful, uptight and conservative Nico Rosberg was proven astronomically incorrect when he saw him at the club, doing body shots and giggling into Lewis' shoulder. Painfully heterosexual star extraordinaire Lewis Hamilton, who had his hand on Nico's ass.

"Michael just thought I was the best person for the job." Sebastian used his first name on purpose, it's always more fun when people assumed he slept his way to the top instead of the insane hours of TAing and no sleep to hold on to his full ride scholarship.

"You're right, I do hate you." Nico said completely deadpan, swatting Sebastian's hand when he reached out for another fry. That was another new one, Sebastian didn't know Nico was capable of making jokes.

Upon second impressions, Sebastian decided he liked Nico and his refusal to be impressed by him.

[mywitchcultblr]

What the hell? That original post had nothing to do with Anders, and these folks had the balls to barge in and claim that we're 'projecting' negative traits on their fave Sebby. And as for their last accusation I played the game and I know what I saw and heard, I know exactly how to formulate my opinions, thanks. Sebastian fans being complete twits again, as per usual..

Its literally have 0 things to do with Anders, and the question was not even a big deal: the other anon simply said "yeah Beth crush with Seb doesn't make sense isn't?"

And I answered with "yes, doesn't really make sense because they have really different backgrounds, perspective etc"

It's really really a tame answer, even my close mutuals who knows me they were like "Whoa you are being nice" because I don't see why i have to be aggresive about the ask nor I see the need to make 20 pages long psychological essay about it, also I'm sick with COVID rn

(and people knows how passionate i can be, boi look at my post about transphobes who claimed that Dorian wouldn't love trans inquisitor)

Nobody projecting anything about Sebastian, him being a conservative and pro chantry is just who he is... I mean he even sent a request to Francois in DAI asking for his support to send an army to Kirkwall to look for Anders, and I think he mentioned something like 'not going to let Kirkwall fell to maleficar' (what maleficar? The people who were oppressed and lashed in the gallows for speaking to non-mages?) and Francois was like: "No"

Sure he might have struggled with the religious organization and his faith, but at the end of the day, by any standard he's still a conservative prince just like Isabela is a pirate. It is what it is...

It's funny because, I don't usually go to Sebastian tags, i don't do anything about him, i stayed in my lane. And then there's an ask about him so i answered it

But it's enough to piss off some people (I'm not saying all of his fans is like this tho) and it seems like they purposely mentioned Anders to make me angry? To win an argument that was not even there? There was no Sebastian vs Anders. No, it's just them who make it seems like that.

Wasting so much energy and time

Also they are angry because I'm tagging my answer with Sebastian Vael

Well that his name, what? You wanted me to call him Sebastian Michaelis?

There are people who made anti-anders post and tagged it as Anders, but not even once I ever thought: "You know what I'm going to confront this person because they tagged Anders" the post is about Anders, of course it has to be tagged appropriately. Though i understand it will be better to tag it as #critical as well

Maybe just learn to scroll really fast and avoid the content you don't like?

Also one of them calling me of having para social relationship with Anders, while they do the same thing... Just with Seb. All people in any fandoms have their own 'my poor meow meow' all of them... It's just the reality of fandom. Okay fine I'm tagging it as Sebastian Michaelis

[undertaker1827]

hello ! plz a hc for sebastian to a kind s/o who love cats a lot (staying, talking, eating, sleeping, playing with them, she treats them more like human than cats, thank you 🙏 ❤️ ❤️

Absolutely, sorry these took so long!!

Masterlist

-

Right, so lets start off by saying that if you love cats, Sebastian already loves you

Seriously though, you get him, you understand why he is so fascinated by felines because you share that fascination

You’re as kind as cats as you are to other humans, sometimes more so, which is something he hasn’t seen all that much before

He loves watching you interact with cats, the way you talk to them

Not to mention how you will gladly throw him over in favour of hanging out with a cat

That’s a mentality he shares and it’s nice to know there won’t be any hard feelings if he rushes off to talk to a cat or vice versa

It’s a sort of nice unspoken understanding you two share

Whenever you walk through town together and see a cat, everyone else thinks the both of you act like crazy cat ladies

Are they right? Yes they probably are

Do you care? Absolutely not

Both of you are constantly adopting cats from off the streets

Felines love both of you and always come over to you, wanting love and attention

You, like Sebastian, enjoy watching the demon interacting with cats as well

The way his eyes light up and the little dusting of blush he gets on his cheeks is absolutely adorable to you

He on the other hand couldn’t pick his favourite thing that you do whilst talking to cats

You will quite happily curl up on the sofa or in an armchair with one

You generally encourage them to lay down on your lap or you cuddle them in your arms

You love feeling them start to purr, the vibrations running into your stomach and hands are incredibly relaxing

no matter which cat it is, you always manage to find that one spot behind their ear that they absolutely love

They will push their heads against your hand and the purring increases tenfold

It really doesn’t matter who’s watching, though if it’s Sebastian he’ll be a bit jealous that you get all the cat’s attention instead of him

He’s quite used to being the only one to talk to every cat he comes across, so having you do it as well is quite the change for him

Not that he views it as a bad thing, but do prepare for some competition over the cat

If they go to Sebastian rather than you, he is just as likely to pick the cat up when you go to talk to them, saying “No, no, he/she came to me, my darling. It’s what they want, after all”

So of course you do the same thing to him the next time your roles are reversed and he has the same flabbergasted and bewildered expression on his face that you had

The two of you are alike in the fact that you both have full on, one sided conversations with any cat you meet

You will talk about anything from how sleek their fur is and smol their paws are to the list of things you need to do today and look at how grumpy Sebastian’s being, it’s because he wants you to talk to him and not me, yes it is

The customary you’re so beautiful, what’s your name sweetheart, I love you so much stuff as well, of course

Honestly Sebastian’s surprised that you talk to and love cats as much as he does

It’s something of a welcome change to him

When you first met, he was slightly concerned you’d turn out to be like Ciel and not like them in the slightest, or be allergic, or worse both

But all of five minutes into your first conservation and you had already started talking about your own cat and about to show him a picture of them once he had all but melted at the mention of them

He can’t get enough of your cat(s), even though he’s already gathered up so many strays himself

Collectively, the both of you must have some sort of world record for owning the most cats

Naturally, something you love is to play with any of the cats you come across

At home, you have more toys than anyone could possibly imagine, your felines being the most spoiled ones in existence

But even outside, you find something to get them to play with

Sebastian swears blind that you keep a few pieces of tied up string or yarn in your pockets at all times, though try as he might he’s never managed to prove it

You always seem to know just how every cat you come across is feeling

They are unpredictable of course and you aren’t always right, but you seem to have this innate ability of knowing if they want to play or be touched, or even if they just want to be admired from a distance

Sebastian for the most part is very good at this as well and you have something of a friendly competition going on as to who can understand them better

You each think yourselves the victor, hence why it is still ongoing

The other thing you pride yourself on is finding the best cat food that London has to offer

You only get the finest for your feline friends, and they seem to think that the finest is an unnamed brand from a local independent store just down the road

It’s not particularly expensive and you have no idea how popular it is amongst cat owners, but your cats always seem happiest after you give it to them, so that is what you ensure to buy

You told Sebastian about it who, despite already thinking he bought an excellent brand, tried it out and found his cats preferred it too

You both know the store’s owner very well due to how often you go in there and she’s the nicest person ever

She lets her own cats roam around the store, so you’re both always in there far longer than you need to be

Because of course, you just have to talk to her cats

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian one-shot - “Different” (Rated G)

Summary: Sebastian tries to cheer up a melancholy Kurt, heartbroken by all of the changes the pandemic has brought about in their home rink. (1341 words)

Notes: I had plans of writing pandemic fics in all of my verses, so this is the start of that. This one-shot includes a callback at the end to 'Blessing the Ice in Westerville' so if you don't remember that one, you may want to go back and read it first ;)

Part 66 of Outside Edge

Read on AO3.

"Whatcha thinking?" Sebastian asks, plowing to a stop. He slides onto the bench beside Kurt and gives him the chastest peck in the universe behind his right ear. 

Cockblocked by his mask, it's the best he can do. 

Kurt misses his boyfriend's warm lips on his chill skin, but he smiles because there's something so sweet and dorky about it. Sebastian can tell he's smiling - the skin at the corners of his eyes wrinkling and the bridge of his nose scrunching. 

But it doesn't make him look happy. 

It's rare as hell to find Kurt sitting it out in the penalty boxes. He loves skating more than life. He needs to go, go, go - moves in the field, practice his routine, help a wall-walker find their way without their hands creeping along the boards. The entire time Sebastian has known Kurt, he's probably seen him sit for a grand total of fifteen minutes.

He's broken that record today.

"You know, almost every time you come to see me, you ask me what I'm thinking," Kurt says, stalling for a moment before he has to come clean. "Am I that much of an enigma?"

"Yes," Sebastian answers accompanied by an exaggerated nod of his head like a trained horse doing math. Kurt giggles. They've joked numerous times about how ridiculous everyone is going to look when they can finally eschew their masks with how vehemently they nod and emote with their eyes. It's going to look like living in an anime for a while until everything returns to normal.

Kurt sighs. 

If it ever does return to normal.

Sebastian rests a hand on Kurt's knee and gives it a squeeze. "Come on, babe. I know there are some deep thinkery things going on in that head of yours. Let it out."

Kurt leans to the side and settles against Sebastian's body but his eyes never leave the ice. It's a relatively busy day at the Westerville Ice-plex, the rink filled to capacity. But because of restrictions, that means there are only twenty people on the ice, including him and Sebastian. On a Thursday afternoon, they would usually see closer to fifty kids and a handful of coaches, EZ skaters and Bobby seals zipping around treacherously like Mario cart vehicles. With the rink packed, the talking and laughter would drown out the music.

"Things are so different," Kurt says. 

"I know," Sebastian agrees.

"We were lucky over quarantine. Me and you and Blaine had your rink to train in every day - rain or shine. Things didn't change for us all that much training-wise. But for everybody else, skating was impossible. It didn't even get cold enough this winter for my pond to freeze over so anyone who was relying on an ODR was SOL." Sebastian snorts and Kurt chuckles, the laugh they share more melancholy than amused. It fades quickly. "So many of our skaters had dreams of going to the Olympics. But they canceled Nationals, and then Worlds, and now... " Kurt's eyes trail the progress of a few freestyle skaters struggling with elements they had mastered six months ago. "It's heartbreaking to see them derailed."

Sebastian puts an arm around his boyfriend and hugs him. "Well, if you're looking for a silver lining," he starts in an iffy tone, "with the number of rinks that got shuttered over lockdown, Beiste is going to be up to her bushy eyebrows with business. This place is never going to close."

"And whereas that's good news for the Ice-plex, think of all the kids who have to give up skating because their rink closed down and they can't travel here."

"Yeah... uh... " Sebastian clears his throat "... I only thought about that after I said it."

"This pandemic changed everyone's forward momentum," Kurt continues, giving his boyfriend a pass. "We have pair skaters that have split up, Disney on Ice canceled auditions so that dream is busted for a few seniors, Blaine told me that the synchro and performance teams at his old rink are both no more... it's not fair."

"No, it's not fair."

"I just wish there was something we could do."

"I know." Sebastian sinks into his boyfriend, mourning the loss of Kurt's hair against his cheek with his mask keeping the two of them apart. He wants nothing more than to fix this for Kurt, bring things back to the way they were and put everyone back on track, but the only thing Sebastian is good at in the way of problem-solving skills is throwing money at things and, ironically, as rich as his family is, they don't have the kind of money necessary to solve this. 

In cruel, corporate terms, the pros do not outweigh the financial risks.

It's not just that missing out on months of steady business dropped rinks into the red. A lot of them were poorly managed. Shutting their doors revealed problems these facilities didn't admit they had - rotting pipes, faulty wiring, cooling systems holding on only because of the ice and grime that had built up inside them. Once the condensers were shut off to conserve energy, whole units fell apart.

And, as it turns out, they cost an arm and a leg to repair, not to mention replace.

If the Westerville Ice-plex was in danger of closing, Sebastian would talk his uncle into handing over a blank check. Unfortunately, they can't do that for everyone.

"I think the best thing we can do is focus on here and now," Sebastian says. "What can we do inside these walls to make things better, even if it's just for the next half hour or so?"

"Do you have any suggestions?" Kurt asks. "Because, for the moment, I'm tapped."

"Well... " Sebastian starts, drawing the word out, hoping brilliance comes to him "... one of the reasons I spent so much time here even though I have a facility of my own was because of my friends. We used to horse around, make up routines, compete with one another, race each other down the ice..."

"Okay, but there are strict rules against horseplay now."

"I'm not talking about roughhousing. I mean the stuff we used to do with the kids in skate school to make it fun. Things that we can do while staying six feet apart. I mean, everyone here loves us... "

Kurt snickers. "Ah, humility. Thy name is Sebastian Smythe."

"I bet you if we get something started, everyone would join in."

"What do you have in mind?" Kurt asks, recalling the things they used to do with the kids when skate school was still running - blowing bubbles, tossing balls, playing Sharks and Swimmers (which is kind of like tag while fully accepting that, if someone falls, they could potentially spear another player in the leg with their blade).

Sebastian tilts his head, going through a similar list in his mind, trying to come up with an activity that would work with their current crowd. There are mainly regulars on the ice - the freestyle kids daring enough to court possible contamination for the chance to get their Axels back. He follows two girls with his eyes, mirroring one another as they make their way down the ice. 

He gets an idea. 

A hilarious idea. 

"Are we expecting Blaine anytime soon?" he asks, shoving his hand in his jacket pocket and fishing around. Kurt looks around Sebastian's body, checking the time on the scoreboard.

"Yeah. Any minute now." Kurt's head snaps up. He peers suspiciously at his boyfriend's eager face. What plan could Sebastian have come up with that would include Blaine specifically? Is he going to tie him to a goal and have the kids take shots at him again? Thank God for foam pucks is all Kurt can say about that genius plan. "Why?"

Sebastian pulls his key tag out of his pocket and dangles it in front of Kurt's eyes. "Because I do believe it's time to bless the rains down in Africa again."

[delectablesinn]

💙 10 Characters Tag 💙

Rules: Make a new post, name 10 characters from 10 different fandoms that you like, and then tag 10 people.

I was tagged by @spaceship-amie​

These are not listed in any particular order of favouritism, I decided to organize them by fandom instead. (Yes, I’m breaking the ‘10 fandoms’ rule.)

1. Ciel Phantomhive (Kuroshitsuji) - I have never empathized with a character so fully as I have with him. Arguably one of the most well-written characters of all time, next to Hannibal Lecter. Silly as it sounds, I feel as though I could have lived his life in another time. The definition of what a truly ‘morally-gray’ character is. His character design is also very aesthetically pleasing.

2. Sebastian Michaelis (Kuroshitsuji) - I felt compelled to return to my pagan roots after being introduced to this character, and have since developed an interest in demonology. Another incredibly multi-dimensional, complex character. I appreciate his mind and objectivity. He’s eye-candy too, which is a plus.

3. Will Graham (NBC’s Hannibal) - Another higher up on the list, his character possesses qualities I don’t often see represented in male characters - a nearly debilitating sense of empathy, sensitivity, emotional intelligence and introversion. Another character I empathize with very much. 

4. Hannibal Lecter (NBC’s Hannibal) - I have a love/hate relationship with this character I don’t think I have ever felt before. Even if one were to disregard how ridiculously handsome Mads Mikkelsen is, Hannibal’s mind itself is awe-inspiring and something that I have fallen in love with. He introduced me to a more multi-dimensional depiction of a sociopath. 

5. Oh Sangwoo (Killing Stalking) - What I find interesting about this character is that he isn’t a ‘toned-down’ depiction of a serial killer. He is cruel and abusive to everyone, including his own love interest. His unhealthy mannerisms and toxic personality affect all areas of his life. He instilled in me a constant sense of dread while reading Killing Stalking the likes of which I have never felt before. However, he is not a completely irredeemable character in my eyes. He was the consequence of apathy and an abusive father with an even worse mother. His suffering felt like it had no end in sight, & his entire development as a character felt ultimately pointless at the end, which unfortunately often reflects how these situations play out in real life. He is also, admittedly, handsome and quite funny at times.

6. Will Byers (Stranger Things) - While we saw very little of Will in season 1, his development throughout season 2 and especially 3 has led him to be one of my absolute favourite characters. He seems to be perceptive and intelligent in a way that many of the other ST characters lack, and his depiction as a gay teenager in conservative 80′s Indiana is nothing short of heartbreaking. I feel that there is so much potential to do amazing things with his character. I also feel a kinship with him, between the alienation being in the Upside Down has brought him and his fractured relationship with his father and now friends.

7. Chloe Price (Life is Strange) - I fell in love with her character, and she in fact was what brought me to realize my bisexuality. She has one of the most accurate depictions of the effects of trauma I’ve ever seen, and has a duality in her personality I don’t think I’ve ever seen. She can be hostile, insensitive and irresponsible, yet also truly loves those she develops close relationships with, to the point at which it is almost detrimental to her as she has a hard time letting go. She is like a force of nature, a disastrous storm contained within one person. She is beautiful.

8. Graham Eaton (But I’m a Cheerleader!) - While the movie itself was rather short, it was still one of the most beautiful, emotional, hard-hitting depictions of gay romance I’ve ever seen. It addressed the horrors of conversion therapy in a comedic, lighthearted manner. Graham appears to be the only one to see through the disgusting imposition of the camp’s beliefs and their manipulation from the get-go, and chooses to push at the boundaries of her controlling parents and her conservative environment. She has a hard outer shell, but is incredibly sweet and loving to Megan. Clea DuVall is beautiful, which also helps.

9. Spock (Star Trek: The Original Series) - I only have just recently begun watching TOS, but I adore Spock’s character and find him very relatable. He is one of the few healthy examples I’ve seen of what ‘logic’ truly is, and is incredibly balanced, intelligent and well put-together. He is rather stoic and often comes off as cold to others, but he is one of the most pure-hearted, self-sacrificing characters I’ve ever seen on television. Leonard Nimoy was an incredibly wise, talented man, and the world will forever miss him.

10. Mikkel Nielsen (Netflix’s Dark) - I have never felt such a sibling bond with a character before, and it tore me apart to watch him suffer the way he did. I wanted nothing more than to protect him, as I would my own little brother. He was so sweet and intelligent, both as a child and adult, and he deserved far better.

I tag:

@lifeisabouttogetstranger​ (I don’t have very many friends on here. If you wish to be added to the tag list, you can PM me.)

[sinsiriuslyemo]

So it’s been quite some time since I’ve posted. With everything going on in the world, I’ve felt myself consumed by all the emotions, the frustrations, the fear...the oh so real fear that’s hanging over all our heads. And I felt like I wanted to get it out, but I also wondered what these two would be up to. After I get all these crazy feelings out, I’m thinking some fluffy entries about Rabastian’s quarantine. What say you guys? Sound good?

Sinceriously always yours,

Hero

What About Us?

TODAY. OCTOBER 15, 2020

Chaos. 

   It was the only word that could aptly describe the political climate they were consumed by. Chaos and destruction and injustice at every turn, first for the black and brown community and then for the country at large. A pandemic surging through the nation, a country divided by racial injustice and civil unrest. A Senate refusing to hold a session to negotiate and pass a bill that would give the American people the desperately needed relief to survive. An entire party ignoring it all in the name of appointing a new SCOTUS mere weeks before a historic election that would define the trajectory of the country for years to come. All for partisan political interests.

   Sebastian ran thick fingers through his dark blonde hair as a sigh blew past his lips. As his hand came down, the white gold band on his ring finger reminded him once again of the stakes at play. The implications that would inevitably come with a conservative leaning Justice being appointed to the highest court in the land, just months after two sitting Justices publicly cast doubt on one of the most important and historic pieces of legislation ever to be passed in recent years. Obergefell v Hodges had made it possible for the ring on his finger to exist and, with a glance at the photo that sat on the mantel above the fireplace, for his entire identity to be recognized by his country as equally deserving of a happy, fulfilling life.

   The front door opened and Sebastian’s lip curled on one side as his husband came barrelling through the door, briefcase and binders in arms and keys dangling from his mouth. Sebastian grimaced: there was no way those keys were sanitary.

   “I bought soap today, it’s in the bathroom,” he said, eyes turning back to the Judiciary hearing playing on the TV.

   “Oh good,” Rafael answered in a breath after putting his briefcase down beside the couch. He jerked his chin in the direction of the TV. “How’s this going?”

   “About as shitty as you can imagine.” Sebastian’s gaze briefly flickered to his husband as the latter crossed in front of him to sit down. “It looks like the SCOTUS vote is going through.”

   “Well, we knew that was a possibility,” Rafael mumbled. “Our team has been working overtime making plans for every possible scenario.”

   “What do you think the odds are that this ends well Raf? People are hurting, a lot of them are hungry, the virus is still raging and winter’s coming. Doesn’t seem like cases or deaths are gonna plateau any time soon...this is about as bad as bad could get.”

   Frowning, Rafael reached for his husband, pulling him closer until their shoulders touched. “It’s going to be okay.”

   “Is it?”

   Rafael inhaled deeply through his nose, playing through every possible scenario in his mind. With so much on the line, there was little doubt in his mind that it would be a fight, a tremendous up-hill battle that seemed never ending but that they simply had to face head on, and with everything they had. “Yes. Because the people of this country are wising up to what's going on. The political games and partisan tricks are coming out into the light of day. It’s not behind closed doors anymore where they can present a different face to the country while behind our backs,  they strip away at the fabric of what makes us Americans. And because we know that the only way we make it through this is together.”

   “I know how hard you guys are working, but sometimes it just feels like this, all of this,” he waved his hand to gesture at their surroundings, “could go away in a matter of weeks.”

   “You can’t think like that--”

   “I know, I’m trying not to, but it's hard, Raf. It’s hard when I see these…” He clenched his jaw as a fist came up in front of him. “People blatantly ignoring what's going on in the country, turning their backs on everyone they claim to care for. It’s hard. And I think about how five years ago when we were finally able to get married I was on top of the world and I swore there were only great things ahead for us: A long, happy marriage, future kids...and now all of that could disappear.” He idly shook his head. “I’m not sure what to do with all those feelings.”

   “Have faith,” Rafael whispered against Sebastian’s ear. “Whatever happens, we’ll get through it together.”

   Sebastian sighed. “I know.” Turning his eyes to meet those of Rafael’s, he gave a half smile. “You and Pete seem to be creeping more and more into conservative media.”

   Rafael snorted. “He’s gonna be president one of these days, I’m telling you. The guy has a way of reaching people from across the aisle unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

   “He’s reasonable, honest and even-tempered. That’s not so common in DC,” Sebastian answered. “Plus I hear he’s got a pretty amazing strategist to help him out.”

   “I don’t know about amazing, I couldn’t get him on the ticket,” Rafael said, the corner of his lips lifting in a small smirk.

   “You didn’t have to get him on the ticket to help him shine. You’ve helped him shine even after he dropped out of the race,” Sebastian said. “You’re a brilliant strategist.”

  Letting out a gentle sigh, Rafael smiled. “I could never have done it without you.”

  “Yes, you could,” Sebastian mumbled as his hand came to rest on Rafael’s knee. “Because the man I feel in love with refuses to ever quit. Even when he’s knocked down, he gets back up stronger and wiser.”

   Eyes following his fingers as they combed through Sebastian’s hair, Rafael swallowed silently and pressed his lips against the side of his husband’s head. “I love you so much, Sebastian.”

   The swell of his heart at the sound of words that he could never grow tired of hearing from Rafael’s voice lifted his spirit, chasing away the despair that had begun to settle in his shoulders. Rafael could always take the weight off him, could always manage to pull him from destructive and defeating thoughts that so plagued his mind when there was so much apparent pain in the world.

   Turning to smile at his husband, Sebastian closed the space between them, placing a well-earned kiss on Rafael’s lips. “I love you too. I’m glad we have each other. Might’ve gone crazy already without you here to keep me grounded.”

   “Well,” Rafael mumbled, tilting his head. “You go crazy anyway even with me here. You’re lucky I haven’t committed you yet” The playful smirk on his face was juxtaposed by his fingers still running through his husband’s hair in comfort. Sebastian laughed, throwing his head back. 

   “You little shit.”

   Rafael chuckled, sobering as the hearings on the TV filled the lull in their conversation. “These people are completely soulless,” he mumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes as the chairman of the judiciary committee began to address the room. 

   “And we’re gonna vote them all out.”

   Looking at his husband again, Rafael smirked at the conviction in the other man’s voice. “Damn right we are.”

[the-original-b]

Archangel: High Society

Format: Prose / Fiction, one-shot

Word Count: c. 8,400

Krueger and Khai embark on a rescue operation deep in enemy territory, where they come face to face with a dangerous foe.

Warning(s): blood, violence, brief nudity

Khai sat at the conference room desk buried in charts and reports, long after everyone else had left the office. She thought she would get better at it with time, but long after Simon’s passing her work as the Manhattan Branch’s controller hadn’t gotten any easier.

Somehow it seemed more difficult after the promotion was made formal just a few short weeks ago.

She leaned back in the old chair and sighed, resting her glasses on the stack of papers that never seemed to shrink. She shut her eyes and rubbed her eyelids with her thumb and first finger as she wondered how the Partners could ever think she was even remotely qualified to run the place.

The ringing phone was a welcome distraction. She straightened up and answered without putting her spectacles back on. “Elizabeth Khai’s office,” she answered. She still wasn’t used to saying that.

“Liz?” the man on the other end said. His age added a rasp to his voice. “Chuck Silvio. Congratulations again on your promotion.”

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Silvio.” She relaxed a little, leaning back in the chair again and crossing her legs. “It’s been a while, how are you these days?”

“Not bad, not bad. The Miami weather’s good for me.”

“I bet,” she said with a chuckle. In her mind’s eye she could see him leaning back in his chair at the office, mirroring her posture. She turned in her chair to watch the rain drops streak down the window overlooking Sixth Avenue. “Beats the hell out of the cold rain.”

“Oh, it gets plenty wet here too,” he commented, matching her laugh. “Trust me.”

“I’ll take your word for it… So, what can I do for you?”

“You remember my little shithead son, right?”

“CJ? Of course.” Khai reached out for her glasses and put them back on one-handed. “As I recall, Specialist Krueger and I helped him out of a mess with the Company last year.”

“And I can’t thank you two enough for that,” Silvio added. “Really… But those connections don’t wash away so easy. The Jackass is going to some kind of get-together in Williamsburg, Virginia,” he began. “A big gala on the water at the end of the week.”

“Williamsburg is Company territory,” Khai noted. “You think they’re trying him again?”

“Not a doubt in my mind,” he said, “and I need to borrow Mr. Krueger to get him out of another mess.”

“He’s cleaning up a snafu in Cape Cod,” Khai noted, consulting her desktop calendar partially obscured by a takeout container from Tillman’s in which sat a half-eaten steak sandwich and handful of fries. “He should be back tomorrow night, but I’m not certain as to what his schedule looks like afterward.”

“I talked to Isaac,” Silvio said. “He’ll be available.”

Khai offered a shrug as if he could see it. “Well, alright..! I’ll get him in the schedule and make the arrangements.”

“Perfect,” Silvio said as Khai keyed the password to her desktop computer. “One of my guys got his hands on a few tickets, we can have one overnighted to you.” She summoned Krueger’s calendar to enter his travel dates.

She paused before saving the entry and leaned back in her chair again. “Say, do you think you can send two tickets up here?”

“Thinking about attending a waterside gala, Miss Khai?” His smirk was audible.

“I did pick up this lovely gown the other day,” she jested. “I need an excuse to wear it… I can have Everett keep an eye on things while I’m away.”

“I’m sure he’d be happy to cover for you while you’re out having some fun,” Silvio chuckled. “I’ll send a pair of tickets up to the Branch. Thanks again for this, Liz.”

“You’re very welcome, Mr. Silvio. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” Khai hit the lever in the phone’s cradle to end the call with Silvio, then released it to dial his number.

He answered after a few rings. “Good evening, Miss Khai,” he said.

“Hello, there,” she charmed. “You feel like taking me someplace nice this weekend?”

~~~~

Krueger reviewed the fabric samples the tailor offered him, and after narrowing down his selection for the outer layer to a solid black and textured medium gray, revisited the options for the lining. “Do you do waistcoats as well?” he asked the tailor.

“Certainly,” he replied.

Krueger nodded. He looked over his shoulder at Khai, in the room with them with her gown folded over her arms. He picked a few fabric samples up off the table and held them out in front of him, lining them up with the portion of the gown he could see from where he stood. He shut one eye as he scrutinized each sample; each of them matched the shade of her gown almost perfectly. “What shoes will you be wearing?” he asked her.

“The black ankle strap round-toes,” she said. “With the red soles.”

Krueger knew them. That narrowed his decision down. “This one,” he said, handing it to the tailor.

“Excellent choice,” he noted. He jotted the selections down in his note pad. “What style did you want for them?”

“British.”

“And the fit?”

“Modern.”

“And that’s two buttons, yes? The same as before?”

“Two buttons, that’s right,” Krueger nodded. “I’ll need a shirt as well.”

“Of course,” the tailor said. “Give me a moment and I’ll return with the samples.” The tailor took his leave with his notes.

Shortly after he left, another person entered the room—a brown-skinned man in his early thirties with a ten day beard. “Sorry you guys,” he said. “Collision on the Belt Parkway took out the left lane.”

“No worries, Brandon. We haven’t left yet.”

Krueger arched a brow at their newcomer.

“Oh, right,” Khai noted, “you two haven’t formally met… Milo this is Brandon Desmoulins, my tech expert out of Brooklyn.”

“The one who decrypted Orham’s files?” Krueger said, offering the man a hand to shake. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“No, the honor is mine, Mr. Krueger.” Brandon shook Krueger’s hand, then reached into his jacket pocket to pull a pair of two-by-six inch slivers of card stock. Khai recognized them as the gala tickets. “They’re usually keyed to the individuals who purchased them, but our guys in the Southeast Region were able to wipe these two. Which means,” he continued as he retrieved his laptop from his backpack, “We got a pair of blank slates for you guys.” He opened the computer and took a seat at the table.

“Well,” Khai said, taking a spot beside Krueger as she looked over Brandon’s shoulder at the monitor, “I’ve never been somebody else before, so why not?”

“You can be the Queen of England if you like.”

“Sure,” Khai scoffed. “I’m the spitting image of her.”

“You know,” Krueger jested. “I think I see it. Turn your head a little…”

“Oh, like this..?” she added laughing to herself. “And you, Sebastian?”

“Not this time,” he noted. “The Company knows Sebastian Weber. They said my eyes gave me away in Miami, I’ll need a disguise as well as a new name.”

Brandon turned in his seat to look at him. “You look like a Michael to me.” He brought his hand to his lip as he considered naming him. “Michael Fff… Fuchs.”

Krueger shrugged. “That works.”

“Mike Fuchs it is,” Brandon declared. He loaded one of the tickets into a fist-sized portable printer and keyed in Krueger’s new alias. In moments, the device wrote a barcode and etched the name into the document’s face. “Hope you like it, cos it’s too late to change. As for the peepers, we should be able to get you contact lenses pretty easily.”

Krueger nodded. “The more common the color the better.”

“Can’t go wrong with brown ones… and you.” He turned over his other shoulder to look at Khai. “I’m thinking Samantha. Samantha…”

“Nguyen,” she suggested.

“Good as anything else, I guess.” He loaded Khai’s ticket into the printer and coded it to her new identity. When the printer was done he presented them their tickets. “There we go—Michael Fuchs and Samantha Nguyen. Just a pair of run-of-the-mill socialites and definitely not high ranking members of the Marlow Partners’ organization.”

Khai took the tickets and studied them before handing Krueger his. “Nice work as always.”

“For you two, nothing but the best.” He shut his laptop and returned it to his backpack. “There is one more thing—I keyed in Vizier Status to those tickets, it’ll let you carry a pistol on the premises. Probably not necessary, but if you guys are going into the lions’ den, I figured you’d prefer to be armed.”

“Good thinking,” Krueger nodded.

Khai checked the clock on the far wall. “Don’t know if we’ll have time to head to the armory today—”

“No need,” Krueger said. “I know exactly what I’ll take for this one—the Five-Seven. With hollow points.”

“Not the armor penetrators?”

“I’d like to avoid collateral damage,” he said. “Even there.”

Khai couldn’t disagree with his logic. “Fair enough. I’ll just have to swing by after hours and see what I’ll be able to conceal in this.”

The tailor returned to the room with another collection of fabrics. “Here we are,” he said. “Given what I understand about this gathering, I went ahead and narrowed down the usual selection.”

Krueger walked over to view what was offered. Immediately he was drawn to a textured sanguine red.

“Do you like that one?”

“I do,” Krueger admitted. “But that’s not what we’re here for today…” He redirected his glance to something more conservative and examined the samples. “Can you conceal the buttons?”

“I certainly can. What color do you want for them?”

“Black.”

Khai leaned against the table beside Brandon as she observed the two of them, her gown still folded over her arms. “So,” she said to him.

“So..?”

“So does he live up to your expectations?”

“Honestly?” Brandon returned with a whisper. “I thought he would be taller.”

 ~~~~~~

Krueger opened his door and stepped out of the limousine when the driver brought the vehicle to a stop. He offered Khai his hand and helped her out of the car as they walked up the red carpet to an elegant villa overlooking the James River, nestled in the heart of a luxurious resort and golf club. A black evening shawl rested on her shoulders beneath her hair and draped over her contours, drawing any onlookers’ eyes to her crimson long sleeve gown with a thigh-high slit up the right side. She traded her usual eyewear for contact lenses and colored her lips the same shade as the gown. Her shoes called attention to Krueger’s outfit—a black suit and tie over a crisp white shirt and crimson waistcoat with a subdued black print.

Together they approached the open front door of the venue, where they presented their invitations to the staffer there. He reviewed their tickets and asked if they were carrying; Krueger opened his jacket to expose the Five-Seven tucked in the holster under his left arm. The staffer cleared them for entry and directed them to the coat check a few yards into the foyer, where Khai deposited her shawl and looked up a grand stair case that split toward the top as it led to the second floor.

“No hassle so far,” she noted sotto voce.

“Don’t let your guard down,” Krueger whispered as they went deeper into the building and found their way to the main atrium. “We’re in the hornets’ nest now.”

Khai took a breath as she beheld the main atrium, an ornately decorated love letter to excess and decadence. Marble columns stretched from floor to ceiling in each of the room’s four corners, and a gargantuan crystal chandelier dangled from the center to illuminate the room. Bicolor marble tiles covered the entire floor space, and the walls were adorned with recreations of famous paintings watching over the tables and dance floor. Finally a huge pair of French doors opened up to a terrace overlooking the water and setting sun, where there were likely more food and drink stations to satisfy the patrons there.

“Remember,” he continued, “we’re here for Silvio.”

“Right,” she nodded. “I remember.” She scanned the room some more, noting the food stations along one wall ending in a carving table, and the well-appointed bar opposite them. “It’s just a shame we have to be here for work.”

“Well,” Krueger smirked, resting his hand on her hip to pull her closer, “maybe Michael Fuchs and Samantha Nguyen can return and spend a week on the resort grounds someday.”

“Don’t you go giving me ideas now…” She brushed her hand on the small of his back as she took a few steps deeper into the room. “We’ll cover more ground if we spit up to work the room.”

“I’ll start outside,” Krueger said, and they went their separate ways to look for CJ Silvio.

 ~~

They met up at the inside bar after a futile forty minutes. Khai ordered a glass of pinot noir while Krueger ordered a gin martini. “Did you fare any better than me?” he asked her, leaning against the mahogany finish.

Khai shook her head after thanking the bartender for her wine and taking a sip. “His father said he would be here.”

“Is he usually late to gatherings like this?”

“I don’t think he’s ever been to a gathering like this,” she jested, turning around and leaning against the bar top to look at the room again. “Way too classy an audience for him—” her eyes widened and jaw gaped for a moment before springing around to turn her back to the room and mouthing “shit..!”

“What is it?”

“White tux,” she responded with an almost inaudible whisper. “Don’t look.”

Krueger discreetly scanned the room to try and spot the person or thing that so completely and immediately terrified her. “I think I see him,” he said, matching her tone. “Tall, gray, handsome fellow?”

“That’s Osiris. In the flesh.”

Krueger turned back to face Khai and accept his cocktail. “Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“Roland Preston,” she explained, maintaining her volume. “He controls Company operations across the entire Eastern Seaboard and as far west as Chicago. He’s every bad day Isaac and Charles ever had.” She paused to consider the implications of his presence. “If he’s here for the same reason we are…”

“Then we better find CJ first,” Krueger surmised.

Khai nodded. “Alright, new plan,” she said as she straightened herself up and took another sip of wine to collect herself. “We stick together.” She took Krueger’s hand and led him toward the French doors and the terrace beyond them. “We stay out of his sight, find someplace with good visibility to look for Silvio, then collect him and get out of here.”

“And if Osiris finds him before we do?”

Khai took a breath. “Then I hope you have more bullets than there are bodyguards in this place.”

 ~~

The two of them stayed on the terrace overlooking the water for the remainder of cocktail hour, and when the time came for them to find their seats they quietly made their way to a table near the dance floor with a good view of the bar. As Krueger understood, they would have the best chance of spotting CJ Silvio from there.

About twenty minutes into the reception, his wager paid off. He spotted CJ Silvio, dressed in a neat black suit and tie, nearly running after a blonde woman in a short dress on his way to the bar. It was obvious to Krueger that this woman wanted nothing to do with him anymore, and it appeared Young Silvio was looking to redeem himself after some unseen slight. After a short while he gave up and turned to get the bartender���s attention.

“I think we should order a drink,” he said, subtly gesturing the bar.

Khai followed his nod to the person in question. “Good idea.”

She stood up shortly after him and followed Krueger toward their target, but they were intercepted by a tall, classically handsome green eyed man with gray swept-back hair and manicured mustache. “And here I thought I was well-dressed this evening, then you two come along and show me up so elegantly.” He addressed them with a rich, honeyed voice, wearing a white tuxedo jacket and dark slacks with a crisp black bowtie. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said, offering Khai his hand. “Roland Preston. This is my gala.”

Khai discreetly swallowed her terror and flashed him a warm smile. “I wondered whose party this was!” she extolled. “Samantha Nguyen,” she said, shaking his hand. “And this is my partner, Michael.”

Krueger followed her lead, keeping CJ in sight. “Michael Fuchs,” he introduced himself. “This is a lovely party,” he continued as he shook Osiris’s hand.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Fuchs,” he said. “So, tell me how it is I’ve never seen you here before, dressed like that.”

“Kind of a long story,” Khai said. “Mike, would you mind?” she said, gesturing the bar.

“Of course,” he said, making his way toward the indicated area. “You had the pinot noir, yes?”

“I did, thank you.” She redirected her attention to Osiris, guiding him away from CJ as she explained. “Michael and I run a small IT setup. We were stationed in Southern California until last December, but we found a better opportunity out here.”

“Is that so?” Osiris returned. “And how are you liking the East Coast so far?”

“Oh, we love it! It’s like we’ve lived here all our lives..!”

 ~~

Krueger made his way to the bar as Khai distracted Osiris, and stationed himself adjacent to CJ as he ordered a pinot noir and gin martini, slipping the bartender a few bills. “No frozen margaritas here, unfortunately,” he said to him.

CJ looked over his shoulder at the other man. “Huh?”

“This isn’t a poolside party. You’ll have to order smarter if you want to blend into this crowd. You can’t go wrong with one of the classics. A martini, or an Old-Fashioned if that’s more your speed.”

CJ quickly shook his head, befuddled. “Do I know you, man?”

“You do.” He finally turned to face CJ. “Also not a great idea to chase women here. Especially not when you have a baby on the way.”

CJ shut his eyes tight and opened them again as he leaned in, squinting at Krueger as he placed where he’d seen him before. “Sebastian—?”

“Not tonight. Tonight I’m accompanying your boss while she and I do your father a favor.” He gestured to his right at Osiris and Khai as they conversed. “Before you make a fool of yourself and say something you’ll regret, yes that is her in red. And she’s stopping that man from finding out who you are, because if he did, you’ll be dead by dawn or worse.”

Speechless, CJ looked over his shoulder at Khai and Osiris, then back at Krueger.

CJ’s disbelief informed Krueger he was completely unaware of the depth of the trouble he was in. “We’re trying to help you,” Krueger continued, “so let us help you. Leave,” he ordered. “Get your coat, call a taxi, and get as far away from this city as you can as quickly as you can. And then call your father to apologize.”

CJ nodded sheepishly, then retreated from the main atrium back toward the entrance.

Krueger watched Silvio exit the room as he reclaimed his drinks from the bartender, making sure he thanked him.

“Mr. Fuchs,” Osiris got Krueger’s attention. “Samantha was just telling me you head security for your company.”

He turned to face Osiris, having to turn his gaze upward slightly to establish eye contact. “That’s right,” he said, handing Khai her beverage. “I used to be a consultant in the field, but she made me a better offer,” he said with a smirk. “She still lets me freelance every now and then.”

“It keeps him happy,” Khai jested. “He would get bored otherwise.”

“Boy do I understand that,” Osiris added, laughing. “Would you mind lending me your input for a moment? I’ve been looking for ways to tighten security and upgrade networks for a few of my operations, and I can benefit from an outside opinion.”

Krueger and Khai discreetly shot each other looks. “I wouldn’t want to impose,” he said.

“Please, it won’t take much time at all,” he charmed. “Then I’ll leave you to enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” Khai said.

“Excellent,” Osiris extolled. “If you’d follow me to my office upstairs,” he gestured the hallway before them. “You can take your drinks with you.”

“Lead the way,” Krueger said. He put himself between Khai and Osiris as they followed him out the main atrium and toward the front lobby.

 ~~

“So what did you say your industry was, Mr. Preston?” Krueger asked.

“Logistics, primarily,” Osiris answered, leading Krueger and Khai up the stairs. “Transportation of goods, and occasionally providing security services for those transported goods… the yardstick to inter-state commerce.” He turned left at the split to lead them down a hallway, and Krueger kept a mental tally of the staff they passed. “But some people don’t see it that way,” he lamented. “They would see my logistics operation crumble, and have attacked me through less-than-legal means,” he explained as he turned right and led them into an elegant office space. A mahogany desk sat before a massive window, to their left was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, and to their right a coffee table and lounge area with a few cozy-looking couches. The carpet below their feet was a rich red. “So I’ll have to do the same, if I’m going to survive,” he concluded, turning to face them.

“Uh-huh… and these less-than-legal methods,” Khai put forth as Krueger went to rest his martini on the lounge table, “how do you presume we’ll be able to help you?” She turned to look over her shoulder as two more staffers closed the office doors behind them. Once again she closed the distance between Krueger and herself.

Osiris simply smirked and stepped aside, allowing them to see a shiny piece of gold-colored metal atop the mahogany desk. “Do either of you know what this is?”

They could both see it was a gun, a large hand cannon with a long, ported slide and barrel. Neither of them recognized the exact model.

Osiris picked the firearm up off the desk and held it in his hand. “This was a gift from some associates out west,” he explained. “It’s big, heavy, impossible to conceal, and poorly designed.” He reversed the gun in his hand to show them the lack of padding on the rear of the grip. “It shoots giant bullets, and has nothing to ease the recoil from those bullets, so it hurts every single time I shoot it. I don’t have the heart to tell the guys who gave this to me how much I hate it, but,” he continued as he loaded a five-round magazine into the hand cannon, “it makes a statement. Just know that every time I pull the trigger, I really want the guy or girl on the business end of this thing to understand that statement. So… to answer your question, Miss Khai,” he added as he pulled back the slide and released to chamber a round. “I think you’re opinion on what’s less than legal is well-qualified, as that is your area of expertise.”

Khai blinked and recoiled as her stomach sank when he called her by name. She backed toward the door almost subconsciously as Krueger stepped up between them to shield her.

Osiris’s lip curled into a sinister smirk as he stepped up to close the distance between them. “Yes,” he began. “I know who you are, Elizabeth Margaret Khai. Operations Controller for the Marlow Partners up north. I knew who you were the moment I laid eyes on you. Which would make you,” he directed his gaze—and cannon—to Krueger, “the specialist she hired to make sense of the organization again… Sebastian Weber? But we both know that’s not your real name. Neither is Michael Fuchs.”

“Congratulations,” Krueger commented, “you’re clairvoyant.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourselves,” he said, “you certainly would have fooled anybody else.” He took a few more steps toward them, and had them backed against the wall. “You know, you cost me a lot in Miami, Specialist—it took years to get three of my guys close to Silvio’s son… But they succeeded posthumously; he ended up here tonight after all. So while I can’t be too angry with you, holding onto any amount of anger is unhealthy. So…” He lowered the hand cannon to abdomen-level and fired, catching Krueger in the left ribs and dropping him to the floor almost instantly.

Khai stifled a scream and jumped away from them, back toward the lounge table as Osiris freed his hand. He held onto the cannon with his left as he rhythmically flexed his right and winced, groaning. She distanced herself further from him, heading toward the mahogany desk by the window as her eyes darted from Osiris in front of her to Krueger motionless on the floor. As Osiris looked back over his shoulder to face her she wished, prayed, Krueger would start moving again.

“Now there’s the matter of what punishment best suits you,” he dictated. “Maybe Young Silvio can give us some ideas. What do you think?”

“I think you’re a little late for his opinion,” Khai said, consciously slowing her speech just enough to hide her fear from him.

“Am I?” he queried. He took a conspicuous glance at the watch on his left wrist, and CJ Silvio was brought into the office by two of the staffers mere moments later, sporting a split lip and bleeding brow. Osiris dropped his hand and approached her again, carrying his cannon, and she recoiled almost immediately, but was stopped by the desk behind her. “Did you really think I would let any of you leave this place alive?”

Motion in Khai’s periphery gave her the cue she so desperately looked for earlier, giving her the boost in confidence she needed to act. “Lapse in judgement,” she said, shrugging. “Happens to the best of us.” She immediately threw her right knee into Osiris’s groin and dove to her left, hitting the floor and reaching for a subcompact Glock 26 she had holstered on the inside of her left thigh as Krueger—still on the floor—reached for his Five-Seven.

Krueger raised his handgun and fired six times in rapid succession, landing all his shots in Osiris’s back, while Khai struck each of the staffers in the room twice with well-placed shots from her handgun.

Osiris collapsed to his hands and knees, taking a labored breath as he turned to face Krueger, Khai, and CJ. He raised his hand cannon one more time, but lacked the strength to keep it at the ready; he dropped the gun to the floor and fell onto his side, coughing blood and grabbing at his chest.

Slowly, Krueger made it to his knees and holstered his weapon, then moved his hand to his side while he doubled over in pain. He propped himself up against the doorway while he tried to catch his breath.

When she was sure he wasn’t too badly hurt, Khai sat up to re-holster her handgun then stood to look down at Osiris. She crouched down to pick up his hand cannon and raised it one-handed to hold him in the sights. “The Partners send their regards,” she said. Then she squeezed the trigger, striking Osiris in the chest.

The recoil nearly wrenched the cannon from her grip. Shocked, she looked at the weapon in her hand in disbelief. She realized Osiris wasn’t lying about the weapon’s design flaws, but ultimately agreed with him about its ability to make a statement.

She rushed over to Krueger and knelt down in front of him, placing Osiris’s hand cannon on the floor to examine his wound. To her relief, she found he wasn’t bleeding. “Are you alright?”

Krueger nodded. “Armor saved my life,” he noted between shallow breaths.

This, as well as his apparent refusal to remove his right hand from his left side, worried Khai. She looked up at CJ, who was just getting back onto his feet after the violence that unfolded around him. “We have to get him out of here now,” she declared.

CJ agreed. “Say no more,” he said. “When they scooped me up they brought me back in through a side entrance. We can use it to slip away without them noticing.” He went to stand and wipe some blood from his brow.

“Do you remember where that exit is, by any chance?”

“End of the hall to the right.” CJ went toward the front door to pull a fire alarm mounted near it. “That should buy us some more time and cover.”

“Good thinking…” She turned back to address Krueger. “I’m going to help you up, Milo,” she said, taking his hand in hers and putting his arm around her shoulders. She propped him up onto his feet and stood up with him; when she was sure he could stand on his own, she retrieved her Glock from its holster once more and eyed CJ. “Let’s go.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” CJ noted. He searched the two bodies on the floor next to him, and found a set of car keys.

 ~~

Khai peered around the doorway into the hall, and popped back behind cover after spotting half a dozen armed men and women on their way up the stairs, likely to investigate the noise in Osiris’s office. “Damn it,” she hissed. “I hope you’re a good shot, CJ.”

“He won’t have to be,” Krueger said, retrieving his Five-Seven from inside his jacket and handing it to him. “Keep their heads down with this, get them to retreat to the lobby while we find our way down.”

CJ reluctantly took the handgun and took a breath to prepare himself. Then he popped out from behind the doorway and squeezed the trigger several times in the general direction of the event staff. Khai and Krueger took the opportunity to make a break further down the hallway, and CJ scrambled to follow them as he emptied the magazine down the hall.

They made it to the emergency exit stairwell at end of the hall, just where CJ said it would be, by the time the gun was dry. Khai turned around and un-holstered her Glock, bracing herself against the doorway, and took aim. She targeted not the guards but the light fixtures above them. She fired three times at the one between them and her, and succeeded in breaking the thin chain that held it to drop the chandelier and slow the guards.

In the chaos and panic among the other guests, they snuck out the side and around the back of the villa to a parking lot. CJ led them through, tapping the unlock button on the key fob he lifted to guide them to the car it belonged to. When he found the SUV, he hopped into the driver’s seat while Khai joined Krueger in the back to nurse his wound. CJ put the car into drive and took off, passing an oncoming ambulance on his way off the resort grounds.

“Easy,” Khai said from the back seat. “We don’t need to call any attention to ourselves.” She undid Krueger’s waistcoat and shirt, then carefully opened the body armor underneath. She turned the light on above them to get a better look, noting a small cut in his side where the bullet struck the armor as well as some bruising and swelling, confirming her fears. “See if you can find a pharmacy,” she said. “Or anywhere we can pick up a first aid kit. We need to treat his rib fracture.”

“Not to question you,” he said, “but is that really for the best? We should probably get out of Williamsburg, or at least as far away from the resort as possible.”

Krueger nodded. “I agree. Call your father or Isaac. See if they can arrange to get us out of here.” He winced as he straightened up in his seat. “Then we can worry about fixing me.”

 ~~

Khai waited with Krueger in the parking lot of a CVS some twenty miles from the resort, and conferred with Charles Silvio over the phone while CJ went inside to pick up the first aid supplies she detailed for him. Upon his return with the equipment, Khai explained the situation for them all to hear.

“I spoke to your father,” she said, opening the rear door to step out and meet him outside the idling car. “He thinks the best thing for us right now is to lie low for the night while the dust settles, then he’ll send somebody in the morning for us.”

“So we’re spending the night here?” CJ confirmed. “Balls deep in hostile territory..?”

“I’m afraid so…”

“We’ll need lodging,” Krueger said from the car’s rear bench. “I spotted a discreet motel on the way here.”

“That’s perfect,” Khai said. “They shouldn’t ask questions.” She took the first aid supplies from CJ and stepped back into the car. “Take us to the motel,” she ordered.

“Yes ma’am,” CJ sighed.

 ~~

Upon their arrival at the motel, CJ stopped the engine to let Khai out and the two of them helped Krueger onto his feet. He followed them from the car to the entrance, and together they made it to the reception area and got the host’s attention.

“Welcome and good evening,” he said. “How may I help you?”

“Hi,” Khai said, fighting to filter the adrenaline from her voice as she spoke to him. “We’ll need three rooms for one night. Next to each other, if that can be helped.”

“Of course,” the receptionist said. “Can I have a name and credit card on file for your stay?”

Krueger reached into his inside jacket pocket and retrieved a stack of neatly folded $100 bills. He placed it on the countertop and slid it toward the receptionist. “Ben Franklin,” he said.

The receptionist looked up at Krueger, then down at the cash, and then back up to Krueger. Nodding, he retrieved three sets of keys from under his desk. “Rooms 203, 204, and 205,” he said. “Enjoy your stay, Mr. Franklin.”

“Danke schön.” Krueger took the keys and turned to lead his companions to their rooms. On the way handed CJ one of the keys and $200. “Go to the Goodwill down the road,” he ordered. “Get some cheap clothes that won’t draw attention and deliver them to my room.”

“Y-you bet.” CJ looked at Khai, and back at Krueger. “Um, what’s her size?”

“Take a guess.” Krueger slid the key into his door and entered. Khai followed him inside with the first aid supplies, leaving CJ to walk to the car and fetch their disguises.

 ~~

Krueger rested his jacket on the back of a chair then went to the bathroom to wash his hands and splash water on his face one-handed. He worked on his shirt while Khai washed up in the bathroom behind him, peering over her shoulder every so often to check on him.

She fished her glasses out of her evening handbag and swapped her contact lenses for them just in time to watch Krueger roll his shoulder, painfully, to get out of his shirt and waistcoat and let them fall to the floor. She saw him struggle to remove the body armor and stepped in to intervene. “Let me,” she said. Gently, she peeled it off of his torso and stepped back to let him walk forward a little. Her eyes lingered on the numerous old battle wounds that were still visible on his bare back and chest.

Krueger tightened his one fist and gingerly held his side with his other hand, covering the growing purple blotch in his side as he slowly sat at the foot of the bed. He shut his eyes and exhaled a profanity before looking back at Khai. “Far from my first broken rib,” he said. “But I never did get used to the pain.”

She bent over to pick his shirt and waistcoat up off the floor and went to the chair his jacket rested over to place them with it. “Good,” she replied, stepping out of her stilettoes on her way to the first aid supplies in their bags by the door. “I’d be worried about you if you were so accident-prone.” She retrieved a bottle of isopropyl solution and a cotton ball from the first-aid kit, opened the bottle, and tilted it onto the cotton ball a few times to absorb enough antiseptic to disinfect the cut. Then, carefully, she applied the cotton ball to the shallow cut in his side. “This doesn’t get any more fun each time,” she added playfully.

“It’s a lot less fun to endure,” he returned. “Believe me.”

“I’ll take your word for it…” She retrieved a fresh cotton ball from the kit and gingerly dabbed the wound to dry it, conscientious of what was beneath the tender skin. Then she reached into the bag for a cold compress. “You know what comes next, right?”

Krueger nodded. “I’m ready for it.”

“I’m sorry in advance,” she said. Then she gently pressed the ice pack to his side, applying just enough pressure to hold it in place.

Krueger winced a little, but didn’t protest much otherwise. “Don’t be. I’m just happy to have you here fixing me. I could have been doing this alone.”

She paused a little at his remark, realizing how different things might have gone tonight if she weren’t there. She considered how far from fine it all went, and felt responsible. She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Silvio,” he said.

He was probably right, but she couldn’t ignore other possibilities. “Hold that in place,” she said, then stood up to approach the door, reaching for her Glock resting on the inside of her thigh as she got closer to the peephole. When she confirmed Krueger’s assertion, she holstered the handgun and leaned against the wall to let CJ into the room, carrying bags from the Goodwill store, CVS and a fast food eatery.

“Disguises in here,” he said, laying the Goodwill bag down. “There was also change enough for some overnight stuff—you know toothbrushes, toothpaste, the like. And finally some cheeseburgers, since none of us ate dinner at the resort party... you guys don’t have any dietary restrictions, right?”

Khai shook her head.

Krueger shrugged. “It’s my cheat day.”

“Sure,” he continued, not sure whether he was joking. “Cheat day... One for you, Miss Khai,” he said, handing her one canary-yellow wrapper. “One for, well I would have said Sebastian, but—”

“Krueger.”

“Huh?”

“My name is Milo Krueger.”

Khai nodded, mid-chew. “I can confirm.”

“Right. One for Mr. Krueger…” He reached across Khai to hand him a cheeseburger. “And mine is in the bag… I split the clothes up to make it easier for everyone. Krueger and I are about the same size, so he was wasn’t a problem. For you, I got the smallest things I could find.”

Khai chuckled. “Thanks for trying to flatter me, but it’s for a day. I’m sure I’d be able to manage if you got my size wrong.”

“Well, I guess that’s true.” CJ stood up, taking his bags with him towards the door. “Is there anything else you guys need?”

“I’ll head back after I finish up here. Thank you, CJ.”

“You bet. I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow.” Then CJ Silvio turned and exited the room to return to his quarters for the night.

 ~~

Khai waited a few moments after CJ left, then stood up from her spot to deposit her cheeseburger wrapper in the bathroom trash bin. She quickly washed and dried her hands then reached up her back to undo her gown, pulling the zipper all the way down on her own and paring it off her slender frame, leaving only a black strapless bra and panties to cover herself. She folded the gown over itself as neatly as she could and crossed the room to place it on the chair with Krueger’s clothes, then removed her garter holster and handgun to rest them there as well. “No way I’m letting you sleep alone tonight,” she said returning to the clothing bags CJ left behind and finding hers. She threw a t-shirt on and went back to the bathroom to grab a few hand towels, then returned to Krueger’s side to take the ice pack away.  “You should eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” Krueger said.

“I know. But your body will need the nutrients if you want to start healing.”

If Krueger protested, he didn’t show it. He laid the cheeseburger wrapper in his lap to free its contents, then took hold of and bit into it, chewing slowly.

Khai placed the hand towels against his side and had Krueger hold them there while she went to the first-aid kit. She peeled a length of medical tape from the roll and fastened it to Krueger’s sternum, crossing the soft towels and sticking the other end to his back to hold them in place. “You know, you scared the crap out of me tonight,” she admitted.

Krueger swallowed. “How so?”

“When Osiris shot you, you… just fell.” She repeated her actions with another length of tape. “And when you didn’t get up, I thought...” She paused for a bit with a third length of tape to stop her voice from wobbling. “I thought I’d lost you.” She retrieved a pressure bandage and unraveled it, starting to wrap it around his core.

Krueger chewed some more as he put his thoughts together, then swallowed. By now he knew her well enough to know she would be blaming herself for what happened somehow. “It’s not your fault, Liz,” he confided.

“I didn’t have to come with you, but I did. You heard Osiris, he spotted me first.” She secured the bandage in place with the included fasteners and looked up to make eye contact with him, her hand falling into his lap. “If I weren’t there he would never have found us, and you wouldn’t have come that close to dying.” She shut her eyes and shook her head, cursing herself.

“You don’t know that, Liz,” Krueger said. He placed the rest of the cheeseburger into its wrapper to lay his hand on hers. “He could have spotted me anyway, or gotten to Silvio before I could if you hadn’t been there to distract him. I wouldn’t have even known who he was if not for you.” He moved his hand to her cheek and she looked back up at him. “It’s impossible to tell what could have happened if things were different,” he continued. “You can’t blame yourself for something you couldn’t have foreseen. Nobody can predict everything, what’s important is that we all made it out alive. People like us aren’t always so lucky,” he finally said. “I know this.”

Khai took his words to heart and exhaled to calm herself again. Then she stood up, took his face in her hands and placed two kisses square on his mouth. “Don’t you dare get killed out there, Milo Krueger,” she appealed.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

 ~~~~

Khai kept his promise to him, spending the night by his side and treating his wound as needed. They finally drifted off to sleep after several hours, and when they awoke the next morning Khai took a phone call from Charles Silvio letting her know their transport would be there within sixty minutes.

Khai dressed herself in the pullover hoodie and jeans CJ picked out for her and gathered the rest of her belongings. “Shame about Samantha and Michael,” she jested. “It doesn’t look like they’ll be back to that resort any time soon.”

“Looks that way,” Krueger said, easing a zip-up hoodie over his left shoulder to keep the pressure off his healing ribs. “That’s why I picked up a souvenir.” He walked over to where his suit was folded and reached for the holster, revealing Osiris’s gold-plated hand cannon. “It seemed a shame to leave it behind.” He held it out for her to take.

She picked it up and held it with both hands, running her left thumb over the barrel ports and her right over the slide release. The visible engraved text read AMT AUTOMAG V 50 A.E. Irwindale, CA. “I hate shooting it,” she said with a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. “But it makes a hell of a statement.”

“And what better statement to make than owning Osiris’s gun?”

“None better,” she said. She released the magazine and cleared the chamber before placing the gun in her hoodie’s kangaroo pocket, then reached one hand up to caress his cheek and give him a long, appreciative kiss. “Suppose I’d better go maintain the illusion,” she lamented after breaking contact. She returned to the bag that held her gown and shoes from the previous evening, picked it up, and stepped out of Krueger’s room.

“Ja,” he said. “Zurück an die arbeit.” He went back to his suit jacket to fish his belongings out of the jacket and place them into his cargo pants pockets.

 ~~~~

Khai woke CJ and had him get dressed to meet her and Krueger for breakfast, which they shared mostly in silence. And as promised, Charles Silvio’s driver arrived at the motel within the hour to pick them up and take them back to New York. He dropped Krueger and Khai off at his home in Rego Park for her to collect her car, and took CJ home to his apartment in Astoria.

Khai debriefed Isaac Hayden upon her return home. “Krueger can be up and working in as little as fourteen days,” she concluded, “but in a limited capacity. He should be back to full strength within six weeks.”

“I see,” Hayden said over the phone.

“Any updates from the Company?”

“My sources say Osiris was rushed to a hospital nearby. They say he’s comatose, and his prognosis isn’t good, but they weren’t able to get any other details regarding him. He ran the operation closer to the vest than we suspected, however. His generals are scrambling to keep his network at full functionality, and it’s already starting to splinter. We can expect them to back away from us on fronts across the entire Eastern Seaboard while they pull themselves together.”

“The way I see it sir, there’s no better time to push them out of the region than now.”

“You may be right,” he said. “But in so doing we may end up uniting them against us, and the advantage we’ve gained with Osiris’s removal from the field will be gone. I’ll coordinate with Charles and Dana, we’ll apply just enough pressure to keep them off-balance, and let them destroy themselves.”

“Understood, sir.” She poured fresh coffee from the stovetop pot into a mug and took it with her to her living room, setting down on the couch she got from Amelia’s barely a week ago.

“Charles asked me to thank you and Mr. Krueger again for your help with his son, and advised we keep him on a short leash.”

Khai had an idea about that. “What if we have CJ help me out at the branch? Be my assistant, the way I was to William and Simon.”

“Do you feel he’s up to the task?”

“I do. After what the three of us went through down there, I think he’s matured enough to handle the additional responsibilities. And if it doesn’t work, I’m sure his father can find something for him in Miami.” She took a sip of her coffee.

“On that we agree,” he added, almost chuckling. “I’ll have him report to the branch Monday morning for his new assignment. Enjoy the rest of your weekend, Miss Khai.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hayden,” she said. “Good night.” She ended the call and put the phone down next to her, savoring her coffee as she admired Osiris’s empty AutoMag resting on the table in front of her. She picked the phone back up and dialed another number.

An older woman answered this time. “Hello? This is Gina.”

Khai leaned back into the couch. “Hey mom.”

“Liz!” she extolled. “It’s so good to hear from you again.”

“I know, it’s been a while. Sorry it took me so long to call back I’ve just been so busy at the branch lately.”

“I bet you have been, Miss Branch Controller..! Your father and I can’t tell you how proud we are of you. Running an operation at your age? That’s unheard of.”

“I did have help,” Khai said, trying to be modest. “And a great set of teachers, so you and dad can take thirty percent of the credit.”

“Is that all you’re willing to give us?” she jested.

“Okay,” Khai conceded, laughing. “Forty, but that’s as high as I’ll go..!”

“I’ll take it,” Gina laughed. “So tell me, what else is new with you?”

“Well,” she said, sinking further into the couch and letting it cradle her. “I just hired an assistant—you know Charles Silvio’s son?”

“Of course.”

“Yeah he’ll be helping me out with all the minutiae, and clear my schedule a little.” She paused briefly before continuing. “Also I met somebody.”

“Did you now?”

“I did.”

“Well, don’t leave me hanging, how’d you two meet?”

“He did some work for the branch a few months ago,” Khai began. “Isaac was so impressed he offered him a permanent position, so he’s with us full-time now. He’s a real sweetheart, too… he treats me well, spoils me… you and dad would love him.”

___(Masterlist)

[miss-nerdstiles]

THE WEST WING #105 [5-17] The Supremes Full transcript Written by Deborah Cahn Directed by Jessica Yu.  I do not own this in any way, nor do I get anything from the sharing of it.

(MONDAY)

(CROWD OUTSIDE)

DONNA: (on phone) Tommy at Justice.  Covitz at Justice.  Citizens For a Strong America. Archbishop Gaudio, Archbishop Rummel…

JOSH: What?!  

DONNA: Rummel! Of New York. Man of God.

JOSH: I can't hear a damn...  Excuse me please.  Thank You.  How are these people up so early?  

DONNA: It's a Supreme Court seat.  They had sign-painting parties the second Justice Brady dropped dead.  Council sent a new list, said burn the old list.

JOSH:  Listen to this.  “They cavalierly sacrificed the unborn innocents and beckon, arms akimbo, the reaper, the horseman and the apocalyptic end.  Akimbo is a word you wish got used more.  There’s someone out there selling  “Who Would Jesus Nominate” t-shirts.  

DONNA: They’re in Leo’s. They just started.  

(OUTSIDE LEO’S OFFICE)

JOSH: You want this?  

DONNA: You don't like it?  

JOSH: Not really. Sorry I'm late.

LEO: Dem Leadership is in with the President.  

JOSH: They giving us more names?

LEO: I'm sure they are.  

TOBY: I need the short list by the end of the week.  

LEO: Your schedule.  Your schedule.  Mine.  Keep 'em quick.  You got 3 judges an hour.  

C.J.: Who has Austin Girelli from Connecticut?  

TOBY: Me.  

C.J.: ACLU called about him.  I don't think it'll be a problem, but ask him about that migrant workers thing he wrote.  

JOSH: Why isn't Haskins on here?

LEO: Having an affair with his clerk.  

MARGARET: Toby - Dubar on line two.  

C.J.: Here’s Bernstein. And this is…

TOBY: [on phone] Senator? Yes, Senator.  No we're not having a party over the death of a Supreme Court Justice.  Well, not a big party.  

JOSH: Evelyn Baker Lang?  

LEO: Fourth circuit.  

JOSH: Isn't she kind of a lefty?

LEO: Yeah  

C.J.: Decoy duck.  And don’t do it in your office.  Do it someplace where the press can see her.  

LEO: We want the left flank sufficiently mollified and the right flank sufficiently panicked so as to inspire a little conciliation on all flanks.  

JOSH: Lang should do the trick.

TOBY: Put Fred Canterbury down on some list of people we’ll never consider.  

C.J.: Baker Lang's just with Josh?

LEO: You want Toby too?  

C.J.: It'll look more like we're taking her seriously.  

LEO: Toby, Evelyn Baker Lang will be your 8:45 with Josh.  Let's go, people. First one to find me a Supreme Court Justice gets a free corned beef sandwich.  

(ROOSEVELT ROOM)

JOSH: Obviously we're impressed with your record.  

TOBY: Your work on the 14th Amendment in particular is the stuff dreams are made of.  

JOSH: But before anything else, we want to gauge your interest level.  This will certainly be a lifestyle...  

LANG: We can just chat  

JOSH: I'm sorry?  

LANG: I hear you really went to bat for Eric Hayden.  

JOSH: I wish we could have gotten him confirmed.  

TOBY: Judge Lang, if the President were to...  

LANG: Is he still teaching?

JOSH: Eric?  Yeah.  Umm...again, if we...  

LANG: A conservative anchor of the court has just died.  A young brilliant thinker who brought the right out of the closet and championed a whole conservative revival.  You cannot replace Owen Brady with a woman who overturned a parental consent law.  You'd be shish-ka-bob'd and set aflame on the south lawn.  Two reporters have... three reporters have walked by since we started.  I'm window dressing. That's fine. I'm happy to help.  But let's just chat about the weather.

(OUT IN THE HALL)

TOBY: Not bad.

JOSH: That's what we're talking about.  Maybe we should put her on the short list.  

TOBY: Yeah

JOSH: Okay, who's next?  (Donna gives them folders)

TOBY: That’s his.

DONNA: This is…

JOSH: That’s a “no”.

ACT ONE  

(DONNA’S DESK)

DONNA: Sign, please.  

JOSH: You want to move it so I can see?  

DONNA: Not really  

JOSH: Why are we apologizing to Ashland?  

DONNA: We sent him flowers. Condolence flowers.  

JOSH: Condolences?  

DONNA: For his death.  

JOSH: He's alive.  

DONNA: That's what he said.  

JOSH: We sent flowers to the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court on the occasion of his death?  

DONNA: They were supposed to go to Justice Brady's family.  

JOSH: Get protocol on the phone.

DONNA: They didn't actually....

JOSH: We did this?!  

DONNA: It was an honest mistake. Ashland's 80, he's knock knock knocking on ....  

JOSH: Who put the order in?

RYAN: Hey guys!  

JOSH: You sent a funeral bouquet to the family of the living breathing Chief Justice of the Supreme Court?

RYAN: No I sent them to the guy who died , Brady.  

JOSH: No, actually you didn't.

RYAN: This is terrible.  Umm... I really apologize.  You know I am a nightmare with details.  It's embarrassing.  This stuff just leaks out of my head. We should leave the detail work to Donna.  She's got the head for it.  I'm more of a big picture kind of guy.  

JOSH: She's here because she's invaluable.  You're here because your uncle's so powerful I can't fire you.  Big Picture.  

LISA: Hi.  Bad time?  

JOSH: I'm on my way out.  

LISA: Two minutes.  

RYAN: Lisa, right?  You work for the Judiciary Committee.  

LISA: Staff Director.  

RYAN: Ryan Pierce, we met at my office.  

JOSH: Excuse us.  

LISA: Is he the one who flipped the car in Nice?  

JOSH: Yeah.  

LISA: When do I see names for Brady's seat?  

JOSH: Do you want to let the body cool?  

LISA: You’re meeting with Barwald, Girelli, Evelyn Baker Lang.

JOSH: Here we go.

LISA: Whose acid trip is that?

JOSH: Just take a breath.  

LISA: The committee’s not going to let the balance of the court hurl wildly to the left.  You fill Brady's seat with...  

JOSH: It's not Brady's seat.

LISA: It's not your Senate.

JOSH: We're just looking at the field.  

LISA: Girelli has a fondness for Vicodin and Evelyn Lang is not an option.  Save us all some time.  

JOSH: We're some democrats over here.  We're not going to nominate a born again elk hunter with a tattoo of the confederate flag on his ass.  

LISA: Look at Arthur Lopez or Brad Shelton or Mayra Height.  You go with Barwald or Lang and the Senate is going to make the next year of your life a living hell.  I tell you this as a person who would be your friend if I was a person who looked for different things in friends.  

JOSH: We should do this in more often.  

LISA: As often as it takes.

(LEO’S OFFICE)

LEO: [on phone] We don't' hate Asians.  No we don't.  Justice Wong is more valuable to us where he is. Certainly. Thank you sir. [hangs up] Do a drive-by with Sebastian Cho, Massachusetts Supreme.  

TOBY: Yeah.  You were looking for me?  

LEO: You hear about a congressional delegation to the Middle East?  

TOBY: Next month.  

LEO: It was Jordan and Egypt. Now they want to add Israel and do a day in the territories and meet with this shadow negotiation crew.  State's iffy.

TOBY: As they should be.  The Prime Minister is going to go through the roof.  

LEO: Not to mention the Palestinian authority.  

TOBY: I'll look into it.  

LEO: Andy's leading the delegation.  Is that going to be a...  

TOBY: No.  I'm on it.  

JOSH: President's on his way.  What's up?  

TOBY: We hate Asians.  

JOSH: Okay.  

(OUTSIDE OVAL OFFICE)

DEBBIE: Ah Rina, how goes it?

RINA: These are today's. And Mr. Ziegler says that the President would want this before their 1:00.  

DEBBIE: Oh here, you can put it in his hot little hands yourself.

RINA: Ah, this is for you, sir.

BARTLET: Thank you Lana.  

RINA: Uh, thank you sir.  (to Debbie) It…

DEBBIE: I hate to do this, but it's Rina, sir.  

BARTLET: What?  

DEBBIE: The girl in the dress with the flowers.  

BARTLET: Just now?  

DEBBIE: Yes.  

BARTLET: What'd I call her?

DEBBIE: Lana.  

BARTLET: Who's Lana?  

DEBBIE: I'm guessing an exotic dancer from your spotty youth.  

BARTLET: I should apologize.  Get her back.  

DEBBIE: You asked me yesterday how the schedule gets off the rails.  

BARTLET: Yeah.  

DEBBIE: This is how.  

LEO: Good afternoon, Mr. President.  

BARTLET: Hey, we make any friends?

JOSH: Maybe Zimmerly, Shelton.

TOBY: Mehldau.  

JOSH: Lang was pretty impressive.

BARTLET: The gal from the 4th?  Didn't she strike down some stuff?

JOSH: Parental consent for abortion.  

BARTLET: Yeah, that's not going to happen.  

LEO: She was a red flag to the bull.  

JOSH: Well, it's working.  Lisa Wolfe from the judiciary committee showed up today spewing all kinds of threats and admonitions.  

LEO: About what?  

TOBY: Three dems on the committee called, elated we were considering bold choices.  

LEO: If the strategy's working, let's get her in again.  

BARTLET: You like Shelton?  

JOSH: Yeah.  Moderate, insightful, gets it.  

BARTLET: Let's meet him.  Who else?  

JOSH: Helen Waller.  Beresford Bannett DC Circuit.  Ellis Yaffe.  Martha Zell. Uh.. Howard Kagen out of New York.

(TUESDAY)

(C.J.’S OFFICE)

TOBY: What are you doing?  

C.J.: Nothing.  

TOBY: What?  

CAROL: She has a date.  

C.J.: And she's getting fired.

TOBY: Evelyn Lang’s coming back in for another red herring performance, 3:00.  You don't find that annoying?  

C.J.: I'll have Carol march the Times by Lang at three.  

TOBY: Brad Shelton's in with the President.  

C.J.: We like him.  

TOBY: Yeah,  we do.  

(OVAL OFFICE)

BARTLET: E. Bradford Shelton.  What's the E for?  

SHELTON: Elijah.  

BARTLET: That's a burden.  

SHELTON: Hence the E.  

BARTLET: I hear good things about you from my staff.  What did they miss?  

SHELTON: My son burned you in effigy.  

BARTLET: Did you watch?  

SHELTON: I didn't. It was a campus demonstration against American presence in Saudi Arabia.  There's a photo in his yearbook.  Someone'll dig it up.  I thought it would sound better in person than on paper.  

BARTLET: I'm not sure it did.  Did he burn anybody else?  

SHELTON: No, just you.  

(HALLWAY)

LANG: Well, I’ve missed you both.

JOSH: We appreciate this.  

LANG: I keep running into Brad Shelton in the parking lot.  Some say coincidence. I'm not so sure.  

JOSH: You have been very patient.

LANG: Well I don't mind.  But people wonder why the appellate system is so backed up.  We shouldn't let them know this is how I spend my time.  

TOBY: Well, if you were less appealing.  

LANG: Same to you sir.

(OVAL OFFICE)

BARTLET: Affirmative action is going to be back in the next few years.  Let's start there.  

SHELTON: What do I know about it?

BARTLET: What do you think about it?

SHELTON: I don't know.  Not the answer you were looking for?  

BARTLET: Not really.  

SHELTON: Unnerving isn't it?

BARTLET: Is there another topic you'd be more comfortable with?  

SHELTON: Nothing comes to mind.

BARTLET: Perhaps you should make something up.  

SHELTON: I'm not trying to be cagey, but I don't position myself on issues and I don't know what I think about a case until I hear it.  There are moderates who are called that because they are not activists.  And there are moderates who are called that because sometimes they wind up on the left and sometimes on the right.  

BARTLET: You think I want someone who’s gonna vote with Ashland?  

SHELTON: I think you are looking for somebody who will vote with him now and replace him later.  

BARTLET: And that's not you?

SHELTON: Wish it were.  He's a giant.  But my allegiance to the eccentricities of a case will reliably outweigh my allegiance to any position you might wish I held.  

(ROOSEVELT ROOM)

JOSH: Let's talk a little bit about what the judiciary committee's concerns would be.  We can safely say reproductive rights are gonna come up.  

TOBY: They're going to say judicial activism, particularly in drori.  How would you address that?  

LANG: And you're who?  

TOBY: I'm sorry?  

LANG: Who are you?  We're playing committee.  

JOSH: This will be coming from one of the 11 Republicans on there.  Mitchell -  

LANG: You can only be one.  

JOSH: We don't need to -  

LANG: If you're Webster, the question is 'Where do you stand on Roe v Wade?'.  And the answer is 'Judicial ruling shouldn't be based on personal ideology, mine or anyone else's'.  If you're Davies, the question is 'How would you approach a D&X case?' because he's the drum banger on partial birth.  And the answer is 'I don't comment on hypotheticals'.  If you're Malkin, you're from Virginia, so you ask about my decision in drori.  I take you point by point from the doctor to the father to Casey to undue burden to equal protection back to Roe at which point you can't remember the question and I drink my water for a minute while you regroup.  

JOSH: Will you excuse us for a second?

(OUT IN THE HALL)

JOSH: I love her.  I love her mind.  I love her shoes.  

TOBY: We march her to five senator's offices and they'll be so scared they'll beg us to put Shelton on the court.  

(ROOSEVELT ROOM)

JOSH: Sorry. You were vetted by the FBI when you hit the Federal bench, but if we re-opened an investigation....

LANG: I'm a shill, right?  Why would you bother with a background check?  

JOSH: Humor us.  

TOBY: If there's anything that they didn't find...  

LANG: Let's see, umm... in high school I snuck a copy of Lady Chatterley’s Lover out of the public library and never returned it.  In college I got a marijuana plant from my roommate as a birthday present.  And in year two of law school I had an abortion.  Can I get some water while you regroup?

ACT TWO  

JOSH: Okay.  Okay.  

LANG: I tell you this so you'd be prepared. It might not come up, but if it did, I wouldn't comment.  

JOSH: But if they know, it'll be hard.  

LANG: Roe v Wade affords me the right to terminate a pregnancy and to do so, free from all restraint or interference of others.  

JOSH: A hearing room....  

LANG: I'm told I have a right to privacy.  I think this would be the sort of thing it's referring to.  I also bet like a drunken sailor during my bi-monthly games of Hearts.  Do you wanna talk about that?

(C.J.’S OFFICE)

C.J.: An abortion?  

TOBY: Of all the gin joints in all the world....  

JOSH: Maybe they won't find it.

TOBY: Oh, they'll find it.  

JOSH: Yeah, but who's going to bring it up?  The committee, they'd look like monsters.  

C.J.: They don't have to.  Someone leaks it to the tabloid press, it's a feeding frenzy in 12 hours.  

JOSH: She says she can handle it.

C.J.: Oh, okay.  

TOBY: Well, we need her.  She's the cautionary tale.  Without her, we may not get Shelton.

C.J.: You been outside today?  We don't hand someone to the madding crowd so they can take the heat off some guy from Indiana.  

JOSH: The woman is - you should hear her.  

C.J.: What? So she IS a serious candidate?  

JOSH: She should be.  

C.J.: She's going to be on posters under a headline that says 'Wanted for the murder of 15 million American children'.  

JOSH: Let's think about this.

C.J.: Let it go.  

JOSH: No.  Really, nominees live or die by Roe v Wade.  We're playing along with the ridiculous notion that the Supreme Court is a single issue body in a way it hasn't been since, I don't know what...  

TOBY: Slavery.  

JOSH: Exactly.  So she had an abortion. Who the hell are we?  

C.J.: You think I like this? You keep this up, somone's going to take this to the press and this bright woman's going to be a checkout counter spectacle. Get her out of the building.

(WEDNESDAY)  

(OVAL OFFICE)

BARTLET: Brad Shelton could work for us.  I like him.

LEO: So talk to him this afternoon.  He's going to start getting calls.  

BARTLET: Who else?  

TOBY: Wisnewski’s a good maybe.  The majority leader’s really pushing him.  And Barkham from the 5th, though he has a question.  

JOSH: It's a tax thing.  We're looking into it.  

BARTLET: You still having a love affair with Evelyn Lang?  

JOSH: No. Uh, Robert Brant.

BARTLET: How come?  

JOSH: She won't make through vetting.  

BARTLET: Why not?  

TOBY: She had an abortion.  

JOSH: Robert Brandt’s on the 9th circuit state.  Stan Yancy's worked with him and says he's always kept his cards -  

BARTLET: When did she have an abortion?  

JOSH: Law school.  

BARTLET: Before or -  

C.J.: After '73, it was legal.

BARTLET: We discarding anybody else for legal activities?  

TOBY: Not yet.  

BARTLET: Tonsillectomy? We down on surfing this year?  

C.J.: She'd be publicly eviscerated.  

BARTLET: 27 million women voted for me.  I think they might had in mind that I was going to protect this particular right.

JOSH: We have plenty –

BARTLET: “I like that guy from Florida with the good hairdo, but I want to retain my right to choose, so I'm voting for what's-his-name, married to Abbey Bartlet.”  

TOBY: Sir.  They're going to make this about her objectivity.  

BARTLET: We promised the committee a short list by Friday.  I want her name on it.  

LEO: Okay.  

STAFF: Thank you, Mr. President.  (EXEUNT)

BARTLET: That pisses me off.

LEO: Apparently.  

BARTLET: We marched her around here all week.  The honor of a place on the short list is the least we could do.  

LEO: We’re still going with Brad Shelton?  BARTLET: (nods)

(DONNA’S CUBICLE)

RYAN: Filling a seat on the Supremes…heady stuff.  

DONNA: Don't call them that.

RYAN: My uncle calls them that.  So does the minority leader.  So does Henry Clark.  You know him? He's on the court.  

DONNA: You drop one more name and I'm going to staple your mouth shut.  

RYAN: (chuckles)

JOSH: There’ll be hell to pay at Agincourt.  I've offended the dauphin.  

DONNA: Lisa Wolfe called twice.  Senator Webster called regarding E. Lang.  “What can you possibly be thinking?”  Senator Milbank, regarding Lang.  “NO NO NO NO NO.” Bertha McNull, “Not a snow ball's chance in...” oh, that's not about Lang.  That's about the highways bill.  

JOSH: I need a drink.  

DONNA: Sun’s not over the yardarm.

JOSH: C.J.'s right.  

DONNA: Usually. You want a Black Eyed Susan?  

JOSH: Is that a drink?  

DONNA: It's a cookie.  My mom sent them.  

JOSH: No -- Yes.  

DONNA: Peanut butter with a chocolate kiss.  

JOSH: They’re cat people?  [holding up cookie tin]

DONNA: No they're not.  

JOSH: These theirs?  

DONNA: Shadrach and Meschach.

JOSH: Two cats, they’re cat people.  

DONNA: For years they only had one, but he died over Christmas.  

JOSH: This is a dry cookie.

DONNA: After what was deemed an appropriate mourning period, they went to get a new one. And my mother liked the abyssinian and my father liked the gray.  And they claim that after 39 years of marriage, they’ve outgrown compromise, so they got both.  It doesn't make them cat people.  The house doesn't smell. Do I have crumbs?  

(TOBY’S OFFICE)

JOSH: They pick one.  They pick one! That's how we get Evie Lang. And not as a decoy.  We put her on the court.  

TOBY: Hi.  

JOSH: The Chief Justice says he wouldn't step down because the President wouldn't be able to fill his seat with another liberal lion.  She's the liberal lion. Ashland resigns, she takes his seat, okay?  And we offer the Republican Senate Judiciary Committee the opportunity to hand-pick a conservative for Brady's seat.  We put 'em both up.  

TOBY: I’m ordering mu-shu. You want some?  

JOSH: Listen to me.  

TOBY: No.  

JOSH: I'm serious.  

TOBY: And then we got what, after we hand the Republicans a seat on the Supreme Court with a red bow on top?

JOSH: We have a balanced court.  They can't let Brady's seat go to a liberal.  So let them keep it.  Meanwhile, we name the first female Chief Justice of the Supreme Court in the nation's history.  I'm taking it to the President.  

TOBY: No you're not.  Do not go in there.  

(HALLWAY)

JOSH: Trip him.  

TOBY: Ashland is 82.  We may have an opportunity to put two people on this bench. That's two seats we fill with Democrats.  

JOSH: Moderates.  

TOBY: What do you care how moderate they are?  Two is twice as many as one.

(OUTSIDE OVAL OFFICE)

JOSH: Can I get in there?  

DEBBIE: No, just a minute.  

TOBY: We don't need him.  

JOSH: Not moderate, mediocre.

TOBY: What, Shelton’s not bright enough for you?  

JOSH: I want more than bright.  If we had a bench full of moderates in ’54, 'Separate but Equal' would still be on the books, and this place would still have two sets of drinking fountains.  

TOBY: Moderate means temperate.  It means responsible.  It means thoughtful.  

JOSH: It means cautious.  It means unimaginative.  

TOBY: It means being more concerned about making decisions than making history.  

DEBBIE: Indoor voices please.

JOSH: Is that really the biggest tragedy in the world?  That we nominated somebody who made an impression instead of some second rate crowd pleaser?

TOBY: The ability to see tow sides of an argument is not the hallmark of an inferior intellect.  

DEBBIE: Toby!

JOSH: What about the vast arenas of debate a moderate won't even address? A mind like Lang's?

DEBBIE: Josh!  

JOSH: Let them pick a conservative with a mind like like Justice Brady had.  

DEBBIE: Josh!  

JOSH: You can hate his positions, but he was a visionary.  He blew the whole thing open.  He changed the whole argument.

DEBBIE: (sprays water in Josh’s face) The President will see you now.  

BARTLET: And you?  

TOBY: I think they're going to pick a young, spry, conservative ideologue who's going to camp out in that seat for 45 years.  

JOSH: Fine.  Two voices are articulating the debate at either end of the spectrum.  

BARTLET: Filling another seat on the court may be the only lasting thing I do in this office. Shelton's a great choice. He'll make us proud. And if Ashland resigns in a year, we’ve got a stack of great options. We can't give it away.  

JOSH: Mr. President, the first woman in that chair.  

TOBY: We go out on some limb here and alienate the Senate, they'll tread water for three years, and we get nobody. The next guy gets to fill Brady's seat.  

BARTLET: Take it to Ashland.  See what he says.

TOBY: How’d you come up with it?

JOSH: What?  

TOBY: The swap-a-dee-doo.  

JOSH: There was.... Donna's mom... I thought it up in the shower.

(JUSTICE ASHLAND’S OFFICE)

ASHLAND: Who let them in?  

TOBY: Sorry to disturb you, sir.

ASHLAND: Carrier pigeons. Oh -- your flowers.  Yeah, we like them.  

JOSH: I'm dreadfully sorry about that, sir.  

ASHLAND: Oh for God's sake, let us sit upon the ground and tell sad stories of the death of kings.  Brady was your age.  Eat your greens.  

TOBY: He was a great man.  

ASHLAND: He was a selfish bastard.

JOSH: You told the President you hope to be replaced by a liberal with the same level conviction that you brought to the chair.  

ASHLAND: That sounds like something I'd say.  

TOBY: Sir, are you familiar with Evelyn Baker Lang?  

ASHLAND: Miss Lang. You've met with her?  

JOSH: Yes sir.  

ASHLAND: How are you going to get her past the pit bulls?  They're not going to like the notion of Miss Lang in Owen Brady's seat.  

JOSH: For your seat, if - if - you were to resign, she'd be Chief.  

ASHLAND: My seat? What about Brady's?  

TOBY: We'd allow the Judiciary Committee to choose someone.  A conservative.  

JOSH: Would you consider stepping down under those circumstances?  

ASHLAND: Sure.  

JOSH: We think it might be a viable option.  

ASHLAND: Go ahead, see who they pick of their favorite sons.  See what segregationist, anti-miscegenationist,  Isaiah-quoting, gay-bashing bastard they come up with. Jed Bartlet from New Hampshire had an idea.  Uh-oh.

ACT THREE

(THURSDAY, LISA WOLFE’S OFFICE)  

LISA: No, I cut this because what he's implying is illegal.  Take it back out. [to Josh] Three times in one week.  In some cultures we'd be married.  

JOSH: Chilling.  

LISA: Is it Shelton?  

JOSH: He's the front runner.

LISA: Good, are we done?  

JOSH: Mind if I shut the door?

LISA: No.  

JOSH: How are you doing?  

LISA: Ah, super!  

JOSH: Feeling good?  

LISA: I got a meeting in 4 minutes.  

JOSH: I'm going to float an idea here that even I can't believe I'm mentioning and my colleagues definitely can't believe I'm mentioning, and the President would probably prefer I drop completely and if I find it in the Washington Post tomorrow morning, I'll march straight out to the Press Room and tell them the idea came from you.  It'll embarrass the crap out of your boss and you'll be on Hotjobs by nightfall.

[THE WHITE HOUSE. TOBY’S OFFICE]  

TOBY: There's someone in my office.  

RINA: I thought it was your ex-wife.  

TOBY: You didn’t want to warn me about that?  

RINA: You asked her to come in.

ANDREA: She's cute.  

TOBY: Late some night, our eyes’ll meet over the maritime commission report. We'll be at the Justice of the Peace before dawn.  You want to talk about this dog and pony show you're attending in Gaza?  

ANDREA: Not really. Bradford Shelton.  

TOBY: He's on the list. You're not going to Gaza.  

ANDREA: I still don't want to talk about it.  

TOBY: You're not attending peace talks with a bunch of Israelis and Palestinians who don't work for the Israeli or Palestinian governments.  

ANDREA: They may generate some useful ideas.  

TOBY: The ideas already exist. The problem is getting the recognized parties to stick to the plan.  

ANDREA: So we sit with our hands folded?  

TOBY: We asked them for democracy. We should maintain some scrap of respect for the guys who are democratically elected.  

ANDREA: If you're really interested in peace, you negotiate with anyone.  You negotiate with the mailman.  

TOBY: Thanks for tee-ing that up. The mailman can't deliver.  

ANDREA: We'll see.  

TOBY: No, we won't see. You're jeopardizing this country's relationship with the Likud party and with the Palestinian authority, and it is not an option.  

ANDREA: Is that all you've got? There’s no “and what about the kids?”  

TOBY: Did something happen?

ANDREA: I'm going away for two weeks.  

TOBY: Will they be...?  

ANDREA: At my mothers...  

TOBY: Good.  

ANDREA: Would you have asked?

TOBY: I figured your mother’s, which is apparently....  

ANDREA: You say you want to be involved. It doesn't come with an embossed invitation. You involve yourself or you don't.  

TOBY: The President would like to remind you that this is a fact-finding mission. Please make it clear to any parties that you meet with that you are not empowered to negotiate for the United States.  

[OUTSIDE C.J.’S OFFICE]  

JOSH: Is she in there?  

CAROL: Hang on. She's getting off....  [C.J. laughs loudly through the door]  the phone.... [into speaker phone] you want Josh?  

C.J.: Lord knows I do! Josh Lyman as I live and breathe!  You want a cookie?  They're from Donna's mother.  

JOSH: I spoke to Lisa Wolfe.

C.J.: What did she say?  

JOSH: I don't want to talk about it. I'm hiding from Toby.  

C.J.: [giggles] Nothing. You're hiding. It's funny.  

JOSH: It's not funny.  

TOBY: Hey  

C.J.: [laughs] see?  It is.

JOSH: I gotta go.  

TOBY: What's going on?  

JOSH: C.J. has the giggles.

C.J.: It's your deal.  I find it elating.  

TOBY: She stoned?  

C.J.: I'm fine. I just didn't get enough sleep.  

JOSH: You were with Ranger Rick weren't you?  

C.J.: Josh spoke to Lisa Wolfe.

TOBY: She give you a name?  

JOSH: You are a faithless wench.

TOBY: What's the name?  

JOSH: Christopher Mulready.  Wait for it....  

TOBY: Christopher MULREADY????!!!!

JOSH: There it is.  

C.J.: He’s not the....  

TOBY: American's Democrats - The triumphant of Socialism.  

JOSH: He doesn't like the name.

TOBY: The man wrote a book that flushes the entire doctrine of un-enumerated rights down the -

C.J.: Toilet.  

TOBY: …garbage disposal. No right to use a condom. No right to get an abortion, certainly. No protection from electronic searches. No substantive due process.  

C.J.: He's what, 48?  

JOSH: I know.  

C.J.: The left's going to blow a gasket!  

TOBY: No separation of church and state.  

JOSH: We got problems on the right too.  Kogan, Howard, Tondello.  They can't vote for a Mulready.  Their constituencies are too moderate.  

TOBY: Get another name.  

JOSH: That is the name.  

TOBY: There are other....  

JOSH: This is the deal. He's what Evelyn Lang is to them. We nominate the patron saint of a woman's right to choose for Chief Justice. We ask them to ignore an incredibly rich piece of her personal history. We take the name they give us.  

TOBY: This isn't going to work.

JOSH: Yeah.  

TOBY: It isn't.  

[JOSH'S OFFICE]  

TOBY: If --- if we were going to try this, what would be the plan?  

JOSH: We give the President and Leo the name. We bring Christopher Mulready in. We bring Lang back in, hopefully the two of them woo the pants off the President. And he agrees to the deal without noticing he's standing in the gaze of history, pantless.  

TOBY: I'll talk to him.  

JOSH: You don't have to talk to him.  

TOBY: You have been on about this. It sounds more plausible coming from me. What are you gonna do about the committee?  

JOSH: Lisa Wolfe’s gonna take it to the Chairman.

TOBY: I mean the Democrats. I need to get Senator Pierce on board or you get nobody.  What are you going to do about Pierce?  

RYAN: (singing)'Won't you stay... just a little big longer... '  

DONNA: Stop.  

TOBY: I thought you were firing him?  

JOSH: If wishing made it so. Donna! Send in Elvis.

RYAN: What's up?  

JOSH: Come on in, take a load off.  I was a little, ah, brusque with you before. I'm sorry about that.  

RYAN: Okay.  

JOSH Your feelings a little hurt?

RYAN: Not at all  

JOSH: Really? Why not?  

RYAN: Would this be easier if they were?  

JOSH: I said I was going to fire you if it wasn't for....  

RYAN: Are you?  Firing me?  

JOSH: No.  

RYAN: Then there's a “sticks and stones” thing that comes to mind.  

[OUTSIDE OVAL OFFICE]

TOBY: Finishing a call. I spoke to Andy.  

LEO: Anything?  

TOBY: No. The National Security Caucus is sponsoring the delegation. We could talk to them.  

LEO: We'll deal with it next week. Don't worry about it.  

TOBY: We got a name for Brady's seat.  

LEO: Somebody workable?  

DEBBIE: You can go in now.  

LEO: Thank you.

(OVAL OFFICE)

BARTLET: MULREADY!  

TOBY: That's the name.  

BARTLET: No! Are you out of your bloody mind?  

TOBY: Let's sit down and talk about this.  

BARTLET: The last time I heard Christopher Mulready's name it was in conjunction with a treatise over the rights of incorporation, and some sort of baloney about the stranglehold the EPA has placed on the endangered species list…

ACT FOUR  

(THURSDAY)

[DONNA’S CUBICLE]

JOSH: Ryan in here yet?  

DONNA: Not yet.  

CHARLIE: Chris Mulready?  

JOSH: Yeah  

CHARLIE: Dissented on minority set asides. Struck down hate crime legislation. Went after miranda rights. Feeling pretty good about that?  

JOSH: It's not a perfect plan.  I'm the first to admit.  

CHARLIE: The President wants to reiterate, he’s not spending more than five minutes with this clown.

C.J.: The press room is clear. Carol is going to babysit the filing shop.  But keep an eye out for roving reporters.  

CHARLIE: You're in on this too?

JOSH: We got Lang coming in to meet the President at 7.  Christopher Mulready is at 8.  The press can't see him. We need a clear shot from the Roosevelt room to the Oval.  

DONNA: He's on the short list?

JOSH: He is if she is. We may get both.  

DONNA: Oh my god. You're putting my mother's cats on the Supreme Court.  

C.J.: You're what?  

JOSH: It's just an experiment. She’s on sentry.  We’re good.

TOBY: Hi.  

JOSH: Don't ever tell anyone that story.  

TOBY: We all settled?  

C.J.: Lefty’s got the goods.  Rocko got the call.  Stinky's on lookout.  

DONNA Hey!  

RYAN: Shall we?  

JOSH: Your uncle’s here?

C.J.: Knock 'em dead. Pierce’ll never buy it, will he?  

TOBY: Nope.

RYAN: Remember, he's all bark.  Just let him holler and wear himself out.  He's got the strength. You've got the endurance.  Here.  [hands over bottle of scotch]. Use it wisely and for God's sake, don't try to keep up.  You're way out of your league.  

JOSH: Not necessary.  Thank you.

(MURAL ROOM)

SENATOR PIERCE: Good to see you, Josh.  

JOSH: Senator Pierce, thank you so much for stopping in.  

RYAN: Josh was pretty impressed with your floor speech on Tuesday.  

PIERCE: Josh can kiss up all on his own.  Get back to work.  

RYAN: Yell if you need anything.

PIERCE: My nephew behaving?

JOSH: He's a… treat.

PIERCE: Well, he better be.  Bugged me for two years to get him a job in this place.  

JOSH: Really?

PIERCE: Watch yourself, he's a lean and hungry type.  Have someone taste your food.  

JOSH: Ryan?

PIERCE: So!  Craziest rumor you ever heard running around the committee.

JOSH: Oh, yeah?

PIERCE: Charlie Felson says you want to put Chris Mulready on the Supreme Court. I said anybody who tries is going to find himself in a closed session with myself, the minority leader, and the business end of a two-by-four.  

JOSH: You know, we got a 21year old Glenlivet knocking around here. Can I get you a drink?  

[DEBBIE'S OFFICE]  

C.J.: Lang still in there?  

DEBBIE: Oh, she's a big hit.

C.J.: She has to leave. Her evil twin Skippy is on his way.  

DEBBIE: I did our secret wrap-it-up sign, which is, I knock and say 'The deputy NSA needs to talk about Japan' and he said 'you talk to him, you've been there' which is true. But it makes me think he's forgotten it's a secret sign.  

C.J.: How about "Excuse me Mr. President we need to move on"?  

DEBBIE: If you want the job, you're going to have to work on your typing.  

[ROOSEVELT ROOM]  

TOBY: Apologies.  He's running behind schedule.  

MULREADY: I imagine that happens.  You want to tell me what I'm doing here?

TOBY: Oh, just a hello.  

MULREADY:  I'm not being impeached?  

TOBY: No.  

MULREADY:  This isn’t a not-particularly-subtle form of intimidation about the gays in the workplace case?  

TOBY: That would be illegal.

MULREADY:  My point exactly.  

TOBY: The President will explain....any minute now.  

MULREADY: Hm.

TOBY: But since you mention it, I read your article on Bellington, and I may be out on the fringe here, but I - I don't see how a family values conservative justifies denying committed couples access to the benefits of state sanctioned monogamy.  

MULREADY:  Homosexual couples.  

TOBY: Couples. A couple is a couple.  

[C.J.'S OFFICE]  

JOSH: Hi.  

C.J.: How was Ryan's uncle?

JOSH: He's a blast. Come meet him.

C.J.: He's still here? Oh my God!  You're drunk!  

JOSH: I think I just promised him a pork barrel roads project on an omnibus bill that doesn't exist. Don't try and keep up.  He's got a wooden – a hollow leg. He drinks a lot.  

[ROOSEVELT ROOM]  

TOBY: It's an equal protection violation.  

MULREADY:  Homosexuals are not a suspect class.  

TOBY: D.O.M.A. denies access.

MULREADY:  No.  

TOBY: To over 1,000 federal protections.  

MULREADY:  To what?  

TOBY: Survivor benefits under Social Security.  

MULREADY:  $255.00? I'll write you a check.  

TOBY: Hospital decision making.

MULREADY:  So talk about power of attorney, not marriage. Besides, the fact that D.O.M.A. doesn't restrict access to marriage.  

TOBY: Of course it restricts access. It restricts full faith and credit.  

MULREADY:  So, Vermont gets to steer nationwide marriage legislation? Vermont?

LANG: Well, this is a sight to see! One of the more unlikely meetings in the history of the Bartlet White House.  

MULREADY:  It's good to see you, Evie.  

LANG: You too, Chris.  I came to say goodbye. I wish I had a camera.

MULREADY:  Mr. Ziegler was trying to convince me that the Defense of Marriage Act is unconstitutional.  

LANG: Oh, D.O.M.A.?  He was trying to convince you?

TOBY: What?  

LANG: He doesn't need convincing.

TOBY: I wasn't doing it because...

LANG: He was yanking your chain. He would never uphold D.O.M.A.  He may not love the idea of gay marriage, but he hates congressional overreaching, and Congress doesn't have the power to legislate marriage.  The issue isn't privacy.  

MULREADY: Or equal protection.

LANG: It's enumerated powers. He'll have an easier time knocking down D.O.M.A. than I will.  

MULREADY:  Lack of imagination on your part, if I may be so bold.

TOBY: You were yanking my chain?

MULREADY:  You called me in for a meeting with a Democratic president in the middle of the night.  Are you really going to give me crap about yanking your chain?

LANG: Josh Lyman is gesticulating wildly.  

TOBY: Excuse me.  

[HALLWAY]  

TOBY: Where's the Senator?  

JOSH: He's in with C.J.. He got me a little drunk.  

TOBY: Is he leaving?  

JOSH: I think he's getting C.J. a little drunk. How's it going?  

TOBY: He's striking down gay marriage bans and she's defending him and they're as thick as thieves and he's a fan of chain yanking.  

JOSH: She's defending him?  

TOBY: Down is down, down is up.

LANG: I am not... no I am not rewriting Article 1. What I am saying is that a gun free school zone...

MULREADY:  Is not a federal issue. In Lopez…  

LANG: Lopez overturned 50 years of precedent.  

MULREADY:  Too bad, they ruled a plain text reading of the commerce clause, does not afford Congress...  

LANG: A plain text reading of the Constitution values a “negro” at three-fifths of a man.  

MULREADY:  Hence the 13th, 14th and 15th Amendments.  

LANG: Oh, generous. Thank you.

MULREADY: The relationship between guns and schools and interstate commerce is... is...  

LANG: You don't think that the quality of education has a direct affect on the economic...  

[DEBBIE'S OFFICE]  

TOBY: Is he?  

DEBBIE: Waiting to meet a man you're holding hostage in the Roosevelt room.

(MURAL ROOM)

C.J. AND PIERCE: Oh and while the king was looking down, the jester stole his thorny crown, the courtroom was adjourned, no verdict was returned…

JOSH: Ok... ok.... Everyone needs to put down their glasses and pay attention.  

[OVAL OFFICE]  

BARTLET: You like him.  

TOBY: I hate him. I hate him, but he's brilliant. And the two of the them together, they’re fighting like cats and dogs, but it works.  

[MURAL ROOM]

PIERCE: You couldn't find a single warm-blooded centrist to put on the court?  

JOSH: We've got centrists. We've got six of them plus two staunch conservatives plus Justice Ashland. The one clarion voice articulating a liberal vision. He's going to go and then what?

[OVAL OFFICE]

BARTLET: Well, send him in....

TOBY: Sir…  

BARTLET: I said I'll listen to him, Toby. That's going to have to do it.  

[HALLWAY]

DONNA: Toby.  

TOBY: What?  

DONNA: Nothing's happening.

TOBY: Hang on.

DONNA: That's him?  

TOBY: Yeah.  

DONNA: No tail.  No cloven hooves.  

[OVAL OFFICE]  

DEBBIE: Judge Mulready.  

BARTLET: Thanks for coming in.

MULREADY:  It's an honor sir.  

BARTLET: Please.  I understand that you and Judge Lang had a bit of a knock-down-drag-out.  

MULREADY:  She wants to federalize law enforcement.  

BARTLET: Yeah.  

MULREADY:  I thought it was hasty.  

BARTLET: Not your brand of judge?

MULREADY:  Quite the opposite.  I haven't had that much fun in months.  

BARTLET: Really?  

MULREADY:  Use her, if you can. I'm not sure what all this is about.  I suppose a number of people are placated by a glimpse of someone like her or someone like me in these halls. I'm most certainly here for that.  But if there’s anyway that you can use her…  

BARTLET: It's unlikely.  

MULREADY:  Who's at the top of the list?   ... If I leaked it, would they believe me?  

BARTLET: Brad Shelton.  

MULREADY:  Really?  

BARTLET: You don't like him?

MULREADY:  He's a fine jurist. And in the event that Carmine, Lafayette, Hoyt, Clarke and Brannaghan all drop dead, the center will still be well tended.  

BARTLET: You want another Brady?

MULREADY:  Sure, just like you'd like another Ashland - who wouldn't?  The court was at its best when Brady was fighting Ashland.  

BARTLET: Plenty of good law written by the voices of moderation.  

MULREADY:  Who writes the extraordinary dissent? The one man minority opinion whose time hasn't come, but 20 years later some circuit court clerk digs it up at three in the morning.  Brennan railing against censorship.  Harlan's Jeremiad on Jim Crowe.  

BARTLET: Maybe you, some day?

MULREADY:  They can't put me on the court, just like you can't put Evelyn Lang on the court.  It's Sheltons from here on in.  

BARTLET: There are 4,000 protestors outside this building worried about who's going to land in that seat.  We can't afford to alienate all of them.  MULREADY:  We all have our roles to play sir. Yours is to nominate someone who doesn't alienate people.  

(FRIDAY)

(PRESS ROOM)

JOSH: Where's Toby?  

C.J.: Can you see this? [pointing to spot on her blouse]  

JOSH: Yeah.  

C.J.: It's water, it'll dry.

JOSH: Okay.  

TOBY: Ready?  

[on the TV in background...]  

REPORTER ... have gathered around..... Ashland having served 32 years on the United States Supreme Court, 12 of them as Chief will officially announce his retirement in just a moment.

ASHLAND: (at podium, on TV) Henry Staub retired, and I received a phone call, you were probably learning to walk. It's been an honor to pause in Henry Staub's chair, a joy to spend...  

C.J.: (to Bartlet) He’ll take three questions at the most, and then we’re off  .  

LANG:[to Lang] you ready?  [Lang is engrossed in Ashland's announcement] [To C.J.] That's a yes.

MULREADY: So, why a racial preference and not an economic one?  

CHARLIE: Because affirmative action’s about a legacy of racial oppression.  

MULREADY:  It’s about compromising admissions standards.  

CHARLIE: That's bull….excuse me. It's about leveling the playing field after 300 years of…

MULREADY:  See, this is where the liberal argument goes off the rails.  You get stuck in the past. Now you wanna comeback at me with grading is based on past performance, but admission should be based on potential on how a candidate may thrive with this sort of opportunity. And studies show that affirmative action admits have a higher predisposition to contribute to society.  

CHARLIE: Hang on, I gotta write this down.  

BARTLET: Ah-ah-ah.  Hand it over. [to Evelyn] Toby has a daughter, Molly, 10 months old. She's a looker and very bright. And someday he'd like to give her this copy of the 14th Amendment signed by the first woman to ever hold this job.  

LANG: Have you got a...  

TOBY: Oh... [hands her a pen] Would you mind adding that title?  

LANG: That's a bit premature, isn't it?  

BARTLET: No.

TOBY: Thank you.

C.J.: Mr. President.  

BARTLET: Shall we? [at the podium]

C.J.: Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States.  

BARTLET: The honorable Christopher Mulready, nominee for Associate Justice - United States Supreme Court. The honorable Evelyn Baker Lang, nominee for Chief Justice - United States Supreme Court. I look forward to taking your questions.

THE END

[gabriel-mireya]

( GAVIN LEATHERWOOD + CISMALE ) —  Have you seen GABRIEL MIREYA? This TWENTY-SIX year old is a CHEF who resides in QUEENS. HE has been living in NYC for A COUPLE OF DAYS, and is known to be AMBITIOUS and LOYAL, but can also be LOUD and DENSE, if you cross them.  People tend to associate them with CAT HAIR-COVERED CLOTHES and STRONG ESPRESSO. @codstarters​

Name: Gabriel Sebastian Mireya Occupation: Chef Height: 5’4” Birthday: December 20, 1994 Gender: Cismale Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

TW: child abuse, brief description of a car accident, death, alcoholism, bipolar disorder | please let me know if I missed anything and I’ll be happy to add more trigger warning tags!

Background

Gabriel was born to a wealthy and conservative family in Valencia, Spain. However, it was out of wedlock and so he was hidden from everyone including his actual family. To his grandparents and mother, he was the illegitimate son while the others knew him as the child of one of the help, his babysitter at that time.

Because they thought of it to be easy, his family thought of him as the help as well and not the son that their daughter had. For his formative years, he was treated rather poorly by his own family.

When he was five years old, his mother got married and soon enough had a daughter. Gabi was ecstatic because maybe then he would have another kid to play with, completely oblivious that she was his sister.

Growing up, he would have his sister constantly by his side. They always played together since they were the only kids in the huge estate. In the mornings, he would get to relax and play with her before his duties in the afternoon and the evening.

His only respite was the kitchen; he loved watching the chef cook numerous delicious meals that he would get a small taste of. Being in the kitchen meant that he learned by watching, and with a little bit of annoying the chef, he was taught how to do so too.

One morning, Gabi was tasked to go to the store to buy some of the other ingredients in the store a few blocks away from the estate. Not knowing that his sister was following right behind him, he just turned around when he heard the roar of an engine, a huge crash, and a cry for help. 

Rushing towards the crash site, they were surprised when they found their sister lying motionless on the ground while the person who had hit her had driven away. 

Gabi took the death of his sister really hard, believing it was his fault that she died. He didn’t know that she was following him, yes, but the way people were framing the story was that it was his fault for not knowing. He was fifteen then and carried all the guilt.

The death of his sister had been the cause of his first manic episode which ended up with him getting arrested for public indecency and trespassing. Gabi couldn’t remember anything of this incident.

The next four years were a blur to him as he decided to bury all his emotions by drinking himself to sleep almost every night.

By the intervention of his “mother” or his babysitter, he got sober at 20. It was then when he decided to pursue a degree in culinary. Because Valencia only held bad memories for him, he moved to Madrid where he worked to pay for his culinary degree.

After finishing his studies in three years, one of his professors hired him for one of his restaurants as a sous chef, second to only him.

It was a great job-- it helped pay the bills, he even had enough leeway to go on vacations once in a while.

There were rumours that his professor was going to retire and promote him executive chef which ended up being true, although the professor decided to sell the restaurant to a buyer. Which ended up being his mother’s family.

The stress of having to deal with it caused him to relapse together with having another full-blown manic attack where he just quit his stable job of three years and decided to look for opportunities elsewhere. That ended up being in New York where he works and partially owns a cat cafe.

Trying to go back into the swing of things, Gabi has been sober for a month now and is trying his best to move forward and have a new start.

Basic Facts

Gabi loves cats and it’s the reason why he bought a cat cafe! All the cats in the cafe are free for adoption and Gabi is willing to help anyone out if they want to adopt!

Instead of drinking alcohol, he fuels the urge with drinking espresso all the time. It’s the reason why he seems quite all over the place when people visit.

Gabi stress-cooks quite a lot so he always asks friends to rate his cooking. He’s half the reason why his friends will never starve, ever.

His accent is quite thick too and he speaks way too fast for anyone to really understand at first.

Gabi has also sworn off relationships and prefers hook ups and sleeping around instead (potential plots!)

As per usual, I am open to any connections, just feel free to hit me up and send a message so we can figure something out!

[sebastianshaw]

[I wrote this post for Shaw at the board I’m playing him at, thought I would repost here as fic] “Beneath White Berries” The Hellfire Club did not celebrate a Christmas Ball or even Holiday Ball, but a Winter Solstice Ball. There were two reasons for this. The first was practical. Most people, however rich they were, preferred to spend Christmas (or whatever their holiday was for this season, there were many the world over) with their families, so scheduling any event on Christmas night would make for a small turnout, and this was meant to be the grandest of the year. The second was historical----when the original Hellfire Club had first been founded in England hundreds of years ago, the Church had held MUCH greater power over society as a whole as a moral authority...a moral authority whose constraints the members of the Hellfire Club sought to escape. Thus, it was trendy at the time among the social elite to engage in a sort of recreational blasphemy, mockingly pretending to engage in paganism or devil worship or other ‘shocking’ ceremonies that involved no actual belief on their part, and inevitably ended in ritualistic sex. Indeed, this symbolic revolt against the morality of the time period was probably why it had been called the Hellfire Club in the first place, though no one could be quite sure. In any case, while the pseudo-pagan aspects of the Club had faded as the Church’s power declined, they did keep the tradition of eschewing holidays associated with any particular religion or country, and instead on the natural cycle of the Earth itself---namely, the Vernal and Autumnal Equinoxes, and the Summer and Winter Solstices. Of course, most people did not know this, and Shaw had even heard the Hellfire Club accused of trying to be “politically correct” by calling it the “Winter Solstice” instead of “Christmas” so as not to offend non-Christians...even though the Hellfire Club had been holding the gala under this name for centuries before that was even a concept. Whatever one called it, whatever it was for, it was spectacular. The ballroom of the Manhattan branch’s headquarters was filled by 80,000 poinsettias and Christmas roses and black hellebore flowers (which, ironically, were white---where the name came from, Shaw hadn’t the foggiest), a sheer forest of holly boughs upon the walls, jungle-like garlands of ivy snaking up the gilded bannisters of the massive marble staircases, and intertwined between the many arms of the huge chandeliers overhead. Towering trees loomed in the far corners of the room, branches bedecked with ornate festoons based on Greco-Roman friezes. Ice sculptures presided over the vast buffets like slowly melting monarchs both Christian and Pagan--- an angel, the Holly King, Father Christmas, two turtle doves, a rearing reindeer, the Yule goat, a gigantic snowflake, the god Saturn, Sol Invictus, a devilish leering Krampus, and, of course, a partridge in a pear tree. The place smelled of pine and sage and frankincense, of spiced mead and eggnog (the stronger stuff had no odor, at least not one that could compete), and, on the dance floor, a thousand mingling perfumes and colognes of the upper class as they swayed together to the highs and lows of Bach’s six-part Christmas Oratorio, originally written 1734, now performed here by a live orchestra in period-accurate livery. Sebastian Shaw had overseen it all. He certainly could not be bothered with every little decision that went into the ordeal, but it had all ultimately come back to his direction and approval. It had been months in the making---preparations began for one Winter Solstice gala almost immediately after the other-- and now here it was, blossoming before his eyes like one of the countless Christmas roses bedecking the room (actually NOT countless, he had approved exactly how many he paid for, there were precisely 20,000 of the bloody things, not a single petal more or less) Yet, he was partaking only minimally. Oh yes, he greeted the most important people with the appropriate appearance of tis-the-fucking-season joy, smiled with artificial warmth at the rest should they meet his gaze, but once he had plowed through all the requisite pleasantries, he’d more or less retired from partaking in the festivities he had funded. It wasn’t a disinterest in the pleasures laid out---it was more a disinterest in the people, and the fact he was conserving energy for a more private revelry far later tonight, in the wee witching hours of the morning. A little something that involved driving out to the woods and pastures of a private farm where he would bound on all fours through the snow wearing nothing but leather straps on his body and antlers atop his head, while being pursued by a team of catsuit-clad women on horseback wielding whips that were NOT for their steeds. That was HIS idea of a happy holiday. He diverted some time talking by one of the white marble fireplaces (big enough for a man to talk into, beautifully carved, framed with finely carved columns) with a striking woman who called herself Tigris--as in the great river of Mesopotamia--who allowed him to stroke her thick black hair as others might stroke a cat, with a promise of more later in private. But after the implication was made, she drifted away, and he turned to his other side to do the same...and found someone else in the direction he was about to step in. His eyes met theirs...and then glanced up, his brows and head raising with them, to direct the other person’s gaze to the white-berried plant danging above the pair. “Mistletoe,” he said, and let the implication hang for just a moment before added, “ It’s your prerogative. Since its founding, the Hellfire Club has been equal parts holding tradition and breaking it.” Meaning, they could follow ‘tradition’ here or not, it was their move. What was that look in his dark eyes under their heavy brows? Challenge? Warning? Expectation? Or anticipation?

[olboypacman]

9. When Angela (Arella) Met Trigon (Trigon the Benevolent)

A/N: I don’t own Teen Titans.

She hisses in pain as the necessary mark is cut into the back of her neck.

“We’ll meet our lord Scath soon, sister Angela.” Says a fellow member of the church.

The sting of the cut is further agitated as the same member attends the fresh cut with hemostatic medicine.

“OK, I’m going to cauterize the marking, sister.” The member of the church grabs a finer-than-normal red-hot poker from a nearby fireplace. “Ready?”

“Yes, for the glory of Scath.” Responds Angela.

“For the glory of Scath.”

The verbal salute of The Church of Blood being her only warning, the member of the church brings the poker to the wound on her neck.

She hisses once more, barley betraying how painful the cauterization is.

This pain is nothing.

Nothing compared to what I’ve had to endure.

To say Angela Roth had hard life would be a massive understatement.

Born of an absent of father and a mother who passed away during delivery, she was born into being a ward of the state in Gotham City.

Ever since she can remember, she’s been passed around from one orphanage to the next (and a few adoptive parents).

Angela, for one reason or another, was the constant the target of physical and verbal abuse of the other orphans, the adults who were in charge at the orphanages and a few of the households she was adopted by.

As a result, she became completely numb to most things around her by the time she was a teenager.

She was withdrawn, and hesitant even trying to connect with other people.

At times it seemed as if she was merely a passenger in her own life.

Once, she in a rare showing of self-expression had gotten a 3rd eye chakra stone piercing on her forehead. Unfortunately for her, the family who’s care she was placed in at the time was a staunchly conservative one. The small body modification was met with swift, loud and violent reprisal from the family’s patriarch. Which left a scar on her forehead that hasn’t completely healed to this day.

This had been the last straw for the young Angela Roth.

She had run away, abandoning the system and familial structures that had failed her time and again.

But life on the streets of Gotham hadn’t been any kinder.

She’d managed to avoid the fate that befell most young girls lost to the streets, but she’d still managed to fall into drugs in order to cope with her despondent life. To fuel her habit she’d boosted, pick-pocketed and worked regrettably as a waitress at both The Stacked Deck and later a bartender at The Iceberg Lounge.

She’d once even ran afoul of the city’s resident billionaire, Bruce Wayne. She’d attempted to pick his pocket one time while working at The Iceberg Lounge. He’d recognized her from the lounge, almost immediately knowing what happened and confronted her. He’d thankfully allowed the dejected teenager to keep the spoils of her plunder and didn’t even turn her into the police or her boss on the condition he take his card.

“Should you need anything at all don’t hesitate to the number on card,” he said, as he handed to specialized black card with gold lettering to the young lady.*

Either out of pride, stupidity or what-not, she never bothered to called him.

She was eventually arrested on possession and tried to serve her time.

She wasn’t sure if it was out of happenstance or purposeful.

But she had crossed paths with Bruce Wayne once more.

It was by his petitioning the court that prevented her from doing significant prison time and getting the necessary help to kick her drug habit.

There she met a charismatic man on the staff named Abel.

Despite being only a C.O, Abel had the respect and admiration of staff and inmate alike.

His friendly brown eyes and inviting smile were a constant source of comfort during this time for her.

To her, he was like the big brother or father figure she’d been waiting for her entire life.

He’d coaxed her out of her shell.

She even credited him for helping her eventually rid herself of her addiction.

During the closing weeks and days of her sentence, Abel had propositioned her to join him.

“Angela, will you join others like herself; those brothers and sisters cast aside because they fail to meet the plastic expectations of this society. Will you join me in The Church of Blood?” He asked emphatically.

She didn’t hesitate.

“Sister?” Asked the member of the church. “The mark is set, as is everything else. Are you prepared to meet our lord?”

“Yes.” She replied simply, throwing her hair behind her.

The short walk to the alter did little to expel the nervous energy within Angela. Her eyes met Abel’s, which is enough to quell most of the nerves within her. She joins him at the candle-beleaguered alter just in front of him.

He’s wearing regal red robes befitting of the archbishop of a church. The robe has a white cross going across the torso, the ‘t’ of which is situated at the chest. He also has a silver necklace, with a black and red medallion at the end. The red of the medallion belonging to stylized red ‘S’ at its center. The remaining members of the church are dressed similarly colored robes with the with cross and no necklaces. She herself is dressed in a royal blue cloak, with a long sleeveless black dress with no designs or markings. Her assorted brothers and sisters quietly chanting.

“The mark, Sister Angela. Show me.” Requests Abel.

She obliges, turning her back to him and parting her hair behind her neck.

“Perfect,” he says simply. He places his hands on the shoulders of Angela. “Sister, at my side.”

He puts his hands together chanting in rhythm with the fellow members of the church.

“Veniet dominus noster fructum. Odoretur sacrificium nostrum, ut gemma forte Siredus. Veniet dominus noster fructum. Odoretur sacrificium nostrum, ut gemma forte Siredus.”** They chant.

Abel’s voice then booms above the rest of his brothers and sisters.

“Veniet dominus noster fructum! Odoretur sacrificium nostrum, ut gemma forte Siredus!”

At once a strong wind propels threw the church to the alter, blowing out all the candles. As fast as they went out, they reignited ten times as hot and bright as they were before. The flames have taken on a bright red hue. The fires of the candles leave the wicks, swirling at middle of the alter right in front of Abel and Angela.

As if one had a mind of its own, an ember from the cyclone of fire hurls itself at Angela. She collapses, as she’s embedded in a hue matching the flaming cyclone. Her ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’ continue to chant, completely oblivious to her plight. The ember burns her intensely, but miraculously leaves her clothes, hair and skin unmarked. Eventually the glow of the flames begins to recede to the stylized ‘S’ carved in the back of her neck, the pain fading with it.

Her brothers and sisters have stopped chanting.

As Angela tries to find her footing, the flaming cyclone begins to come to a stop. They then begin to shape and couture into the shape of being. The fires are then expelled as it appears the being behind the expels the flames from its body, revealing the large figure of what’s supposed to be their lord. He’s dressed head-to-toe in black, his angry red arms revealed by short sleeves of his top. They immediately go to his chest as he folds them. But what Angela takes notice of first is his eyes. His cold black sclera, and dimly glowing iris’ take in his surroundings and seem to give off an air of disappointment. His brows are creased seemingly in the same disappointment in his eyes, the crease continuing to his flat wide nose. She also notices his face, which is framed by shoulder length white hair, is as red as folded arms. His black lips are turned in a snarl, revealing what appears to be sharp looking fangs.

His eyes meet hers, and a look of shock and recognition hit his face. It returns to a neutral expression as he proclaims loudly: “Do you people honestly have nothing better to do!”

Murmurs among the members of the church begin to overtake the room.

“Lord Scath!” Screams Abel, “it is with great reverence I welcome you to the current congregation of the Church of Blood.” He gestures to Angela, “We offer this young lady here as tribute for you, Lord Scath.”

“Tribute…?” Exclaims Angela. She’s immediately seized by both wrists by members of the church. “Release me! Now!” She yelled futilely struggling against her now captors.

“Where’s the current Brother Blood?” Asks he who was identified as Scath.

“Sebastian’s abandoned us. He’s taken to training and recruiting young metahumans for his purposes some time ago. For all intents and purposes, I’m the defacto leader of the church.”

Scath once more turns his vison to Angela. “This young lady, who is she?”

“She’s an unremarkable,” says Abel. The sting of his words piercing Angela, as his looks at her with new found contempt. “Some drug addled urchin we cleaned up for you, my lord. She’s yours to sire…”

“Release her.” Interrupts Scath. “Release her, now.” He commands, as Angela continues to struggle against her captors.

Angela’s former ‘brothers’ seem stupefied at being addressed by their lord, looking between Scath and Abel for some kind of confirmation from the two.

“Fine,” mutters Scath. Angela’s two captors are then enveloped in a black aura and lifted into the air by some unseen force. The aura begins to brighten as the men start to scream in pain, the screams intensifying the brighter the aura glows. The auras reach a sun-like brightness, all present covering their eyes from the light.

Theirs screams have stopped. And when her eyes are uncovered all traces of the two members of the church are gone.

And she can’t help but realize the vague smell of burnt meat on her nostrils.

“You,” he addresses Angela, “behind me, now!”

Not wishing to share the fate of her ‘brothers’, she complies right away. “Please don’t kill me,” she whispers in a small voice.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.”

“Lord Scath! There’s no need to spare this woman the dignity. Do with her what you will, so the prophecy may commence.” Says Abel.

Scath sighs audibly. “I’m guessing you were the current Brother Blood’s understudy?” Replied Scath.

“Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?” Said able, irritably.

“The Bloods haven’t changed much through the generations.”

“Don’t talk of that fool to me. I am the archbishop of the church! I will lead our brothers and sisters in these most trying times!”

Scath eyeballs Abel; seemingly unimpressed by what he sees, he replies: “You are more like your masters than realize. Taking in the naive and innocent, using them for your own purposes. And discarding them the moment it becomes convenient. You are more like your masters than you realize.”

Abel doesn’t reply to being dressed down by the demon lord.

“The young lady and I will be taking our leave now.” Scath’s iris’s glow briefly. “Unless anyone has any objections?” He says eyeballing everyone else at alter.

It seems any objections are wisely held back.

“Great,” says Scath, “young lady, let’s get out here.”

Angela makes her way to Scath’s side, readying to leave. The assorted members of the church part as the couple makes their way through.

“Do you have anything you’d like to take with you? I highly doubt we’ll be making a return here.” Scath addressed Angela.

“Um...yes my lord. I’ll lead you to my quarters.”

“You know don’t have to address me so formally, um. I’m sorry, young lady. What is your name?”

“Angela, lord Scath. Angela Roth.”

“Trigon.”

“I’m sorry?”

“My name, it’s Trigon. Scath is more like a family name, or to be more precise, the name of my clan. And please, you  don’t have to  call me ‘lord.’ I haven’t been a lord in very long time.”

A tense silence sits between the pair, as Angela packs her belongings.

“So,” begins Trigon, “this going to be a little awkward, but do you know what that ritual was for Angela?”

“I was told it was to summon you,” she begins as she continues to pack, “ your summoning was to strengthen the faith of the members of the church and to quell any nonbelief that may have existed.” She laughs sullenly to herself as she shakes her head. She places her gaze to Trigon. “I guess the latter was achieved. I was to be you emissary, which was why I branded with your mark.” She turns around, parting her hair relevealing the mark of Scath on the back of her neck. “Though you’re not exactly what I was told you’d look like.”

“Oh, I’ll have you know I’m quite the looker, at least mother says so.” Replies Trigon, indignantly.

“I didn’t say you weren’t handsome, lord…I mean Trigon.” She said in small voice blushing, looking away from him. “Wait… the ritual. Why did you ask me about it?”

Trigon begins to laugh awkwardly as he scratches his cheek. “Well it’s pretty convenient you find me handsome, ‘cause that ritual kind of, sort of made us,” he mumbles the remaining statement, trialing off.

“I’m sorry, could you say that again?”

He mumbles one more time.

“Could you please speak up!?”

“We’re married now. There, satisfied?”

“So now what? You drag me to hell live out the rest of my life in wedded bliss?” Snaps a despondent Angela.

“No that’d be a bad idea. I’d have to hear from Neron and Augustus about…” Trigon trails off once more. “Actually, that’s not important. What’s important is that you now fall under my protection. I won’t hold this union over your head, but you must know; you are forever bound to me. That mark on your neck ensures that.”

Angela’s eyes begin to water as what Trigon said begins to take hold and what this means begins to make itself clear.

Wife to some kind of demon lord of indiscriminate origin. I guess it’s a step-up from emissary. She laments bitterly. What will become of me? Will he incinerate me like my brothers who tried to hold me down at the alter? Is he benevolent? He’s shown me kindness thus far.

Angela begins to openly weep, crossing her arms over her chest; the gesture bringing her very little comfort.

Trigon closes the distance between them. He cups her cheek, tilting her face up wiping the tears from her cheek. His caress is gentler than would expect from someone his size. She nuzzles into his touch, it oddly bringing her comfort.

“Did they do this to you?” He asks running his other hand over the scar on her forehead.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I can heal…”

“Just get me out of here, Trigon!” She interrupts. “I’m just ready for this day to be over.”

“Okay.” He says calmly. “Okay. Just finish packing and I’ll take you…some place.”

He backs away from her, walking to a wall leaning on it as Angela finishes getting her things in order.

His eyes go to a black card on the floor; its edges rounded and crinkled. It’s clearly seen better days. He leaves his perch on the wall going straight for the card. He takes it off the ground, reading the stylized gold letters; his eyes shimmering in recognition.

“Alright, got I’ve everything important here. Oh, that old thing.”

“Do you know, Bruce?”

“Not really. He did a few favors for me, for what I’ll never know. I didn’t deserve his consideration. You heard Abel, I’m an unremarkable. I my have even be less than that. He gave me that card, telling me if I ever needed anything to call him. There’s more than a few times I’ve held that card in my hand, wondering if I made the right decision not calling him.” She sighs. “Do you know him? I can’t imagine so. I mean what would a demon lord need with an acquaintance like him anyway?”

“You’d honestly be surprised, my dear.”

His armored footsteps thump loudly as he makes his approach.

“It’s as you said Lord Augustus.” Abel addressed. “He refused to sire the gem on the spot. You’re sure he’ll mate the woman eventually?”

“I’m sure,” he cracks a smirk, “I sent you in her direction for a reason. There’s something about her he won’t be able to resist. My dear brother is hopelessly predictable, but that’s not a concern right now. I’m more than prepared for the long game. What concerns me now is your devotion to the cause and your congregation’s loyalty; it still lies with Trigon even though he’s long since abandoned the church. I’m not up to entertaining reconditioning. Luckily I’m able to quell these concerns in one swing.” Augustus stretches one arm in front of, his open palm facing the ceiling. A black orb manifests itself, eventually forming the shape of sword. He then grasps the weapon by the hilt, offering it to Abel. “Show me your devotion Abel. Your lord demands blood. The blood of those fool enough to place their faith in Trigon.”

Abel takes the blade offered to him, “For the glory of Augustus.”

*I might make a one shot outlining this interaction. I guess it depends on the reaction to this.

**Translated from latin: Come forth our lord. Accept of our offering, so the gem maybe sired.

Read this and more at: https://www.fanfiction.net/~olboypacman

[hallowedhearthstone]

Character Chart

Character’s Full Name:  Ariandielle Aranna Dal’anar

Reason or Meaning of Name: N/A

Character’s Nickname/Alias: Elle, mostly. Andi or Freckles by her husband.

Reason for Nickname/Alias: Her nicknames are just necessary shortenings of her absurdly long name. But Freckles is a more physically based nickname, obviously because of her characteristic freckles.

Birth Date: March 8th

Physical appearance

Age:  133 

How old does he/she appear: Late 20′s - early 30′s

Weight: 122lbs

Height: 5′2

Body build: Soft, Clearly a caster

Shape of face: Square-jawed with feminine features

Eye color: A bright teal which, on closer inspection is actually a bright blue with neon green accents

Glasses or contacts: Neither

Skin tone: Pale 

Distinguishing marks: She bears distinct freckles across her cheeks and nose, on the tips of her ears, her shoulders and at her lower back.

Predominant features: HAIR

Hair color: A deep, ruddy brown

Type of hair:  Long, thick, and wavy. 

Hairstyle:  All over the place, and consistently raked back by her fingers

Voice:  Sweet and calm with a posh English accent. 

Overall Attractiveness: She’s a solid 8, but that might just be me.

Physical Disabilities: She’s short af, is that a disability?

Usual Fashion of Dress: Conservative gowns with rich colors and bold accents.

Favorite Outfit: N/A

Jewelry or Accessories: She wears a necklace made from a bracelet her husband gave her. The charm that sits on her collar serves as a reminder that the best way is usually not the easiest.

Personality

Good Personality Traits: Calm and welcoming. She’s a steadfast friend and an understanding woman, often to a fault. 

Bad Personality Traits: She’s a jealous woman, the sort to hold everything in until it becomes an issue, and she doesn’t really take care of herself emotionally. 

Mood Character is Most Often In: Comfortable

Sense of Humor: Dry and deadpan, or impish teasing - depending on how well she knows the person she’s joking with. 

Character’s Greatest Joy In Life: Her children, all 6 of them.

Character’s Greatest Fear: Being a bad mother to her brood, letting people down, losing her husband, her brother (just in general), and fire.

What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil?  Seridyn’s death

Character Is Most at Ease When: In small groups of people or at home with her family. 

Most Ill at Ease When: Large gatherings are ill-fitted for her. She usually ends up with a painful headache mere minutes into it. 

Enraged When: Someone threatens her children. 

Depressed or Sad When: It comes and goes. She has moods and lulls like everyone else.

Life Philosophy: The only way out is through.

If Granted One Wish, It Would Be: There isn’t anything she would change, so perhaps.. financial security for the rest of her life and the lives of her children. 

Character’s Soft Spot: Men trying to redeem themselves

Is This Soft Spot Obvious to Others?: Probably, if you know her well enough.

Greatest Strength: Tenacity

Greatest Vulnerability or Weakness: Her empathy often works against her

Biggest Regret: Not saving her brother

Minor Regret: There is one secret she keeps, and she regrets ever letting that lie get started.

Biggest Accomplishment: She once ran a successful business, offering personal therapy to those in need.

Minor Accomplishment: Nowadays? Making it through the day without collapsing. 

Past failures he/she would be embarrassed to have people know about: Way too many to list here. Character’s Darkest Secret: For fear of metagaming, I can’t put that out onto this blog. Her darkest secret isn’t terribly dark - most people already know about her brother - but it is something she holds close to her chest.

Does Anyone Else Know?: Seridyn, but only recently.

Goals

Drives and Motivations: Meeting her family’s needs

Immediate Goals: Making it through the day, managing to sneak in a meal or a few moments with her husband while the kids sleep. And a shower.

Long Term Goals: Possibly opening up that orphanage

How the character plans to accomplish these goals: Nothing’s set in stone

How Other Characters Will Be Affected:  Some kids might find a home?

Past

Hometown: Northern Quel’thalas. A large estate just outside of Silvermoon City.

Type of Childhood: Studious, well-cared-for, a little spoiled maybe.

Pets: N/A

First Memory: Watching the shadows of the snowfall on her wall as she tried to sleep

Most Important Childhood Memory: Her family’s murder? I mean...

Childhood Hero: Aegwynn

Dream Job: Arcanist

Education: Higher education in the principles and application of magic - specifically cryomancy, and personal tutoring in all subjects 

Religion: N/A

Finances: Wealthy

Present

Current Location: Valley of the Four Winds, Pandaria

Currently Living With: Herself, Seridyn, and her children. 

Pets: Soliloquy, a tabby cat that comes and goes as it pleases. Omen, a raven given to Aelwynn as a gift.

Religion: N/A

Occupation: Stay at home mother

Finances: Struggling (She no longer works due to time constraints and there are a lot of mouths to feed)

Family

Siblings: Two brothers, one deceased - the other... probably deceased?

Relationship With Them: Non-existent

Spouse: Seridyn

Relationship With Them: Solid

Children: In order of age: Erelle (Nightborne, adopted), Aelwynn, Sebastian, Taeral, Verrin, Andulin

Relationship With Them: Good

Other Important Family Members:  N/A

Favorites

Color: Blue

Least Favorite Color: Red

Music: Anything upbeat

Food: Nothing specific, but she’s fond of meat and potato meals

Literature: Romance

Form of Entertainment: Hearthstone

Expressions: That look that Seridyn gets when he’s up to no good...

Mode of Transportation: Teleportation

Most Prized Possession: She doesn’t put a lot of stock into material things. But I guess her necklace?

Habits

Hobbies: Cooking, gardening, alchemy, fishing

Plays a musical instrument?: No

Plays a sport?: No

How she would spend a rainy day?: Inside with a book and a cup of tea 

Spending Habits: Very frugal

Smokes: No

Drinks: Once in a while

Other Drugs: No

What does he/she do too much of?: Breed...?

What does he/she do too little of?: Spend time on herself

Extremely Skilled At: Cryomancy and Alchemy

Extremely Unskilled At: Turning away someone that needs her help

Nervous Tics: Running her fingers through her hair

Usual Body Posture: Weight on her left foot, chin raised haughtily

Mannerisms: Proper and demure, always watching those around her with affection

Peculiarities: Her empathic abilities give her insight into those nearby and she finds it hard not to react to the thoughts of others sometimes.

Traits

Optimist or Pessimist?: Realist

Introvert or Extrovert?: Introvert

Daredevil or Cautious?: Cautious

Logical or Emotional?: Emotional, but she does try to think things through before reacting

Disorderly and Messy or Methodical and Neat?: Very neat and organized

Prefers Working or Relaxing?: Relaxing

Confident or Unsure of Himself?: Confident in some things, uncertain in others.  

Animal lover?: Oh yes

Self-perception

How She Feels About Herself: Fairly neutral

One Word Character Would Use To Describe Themselves: Underwhelming

Paragraph Description on How They’d Describe Themselves: I am... haunted and frequently melancholy, but I try to engage, to listen, to understand the people around me, so that I can help to make their lives a little easier. 

What does the character consider his/her best personality trait?: Tenderness

What does the character consider his/her worst personality trait?: Her guilt complex

What does the character consider his/her best physical characteristic?: Her eyes

What does the character consider his/her worst physical characteristic?: Her hair

How does the character think others perceive him/her? Boring

What would the character most like to change about himself/herself? Nothing that she CAN change

Relationships with others

Opinion of Other People in General: Generally good, trying to make their way in the world however possible

Does the character hide his/her true opinions and emotions from others?: Sometimes

Person Character Most Hates: Herself

Best friend(s): Scarlet

Love interest(s): Just Seridyn

Person Character (Would) Go to For Advice: Seridyn, or Aden

Person Character Feels Responsible For: Her children

Person Character Feels Awkward Around: Death Knights

Person Character Openly Admires: Aden

Person Character Secretly Admires: N/A

[flamboyantly-incompetent]

Neuron, Ch.5

Bucky x Named (Mutant) Reader

Warnings: nothing too bad, some bad jokes, some violence

Masterlist

Word count: 2659

Note: I love Bucky gifs, and Sebastian Stan gifs, so I’m going to keep using random ones as page breaks.  They won’t have anything to do with the story, and aren’t mine.  But they’re beautiful.  There will be repeats, I’m sorry. (no I am not, okay on with the story)

“So,” Vision started, hands clasped by his mouth, “This fortune teller gave you a real prophecy?”

“I don’t know about that,” you said hesitantly.

Wanda scoffed, “You obviously believe it.”

“What I believe isn’t the point.  It can’t happen.  I can’t…” you trailed off, nauseous again.

Vision nodded, “You are right.  It would be disaster.”

You nodded vigorously.  “That’s the favor.  If I go down this road, you two are the only ones who could stop me.  You have to stop me,” you pleaded, nerve wearing off fast.

Wanda met your gaze with a surprising touch of kindness, “Okay.”

A sigh of relief escaped you as a grin spread across your face.

“On one condition.”  Of course.  “You have to tell Bucky.”

“Tell Bucky what?”  You jumped, the very man materializing behind you, eyebrow quirked.

“I, well, I just, and um, I,” you sputtered, sharp dread coiling around the more logical bits of your brain, squeezing like a python.  This was not how you’d imagined this conversation would go.  At all.  You’d expected some resistance from Wanda, absolutely.  This, though, you didn’t anticipate, and hadn’t prepared for.

“You tell him, or I will.”

You shot a sideways glare at Wanda, as indignation replaced your fear.  “Fine,” you snarled.  You nodded towards an unoccupied corner of the jet before you stomped away from the Scarlet Witch, Bucky following you.

“Everything okay?” he asked, amusement playing on his face.  You grumbled into your hands.  Bucky waited politely for you to look at him to say, “Denna, you gonna tell me what’s going on?” and then, teasing, “Are you sure you’re not just nervous?”

Laughing mirthlessly, you retorted, “Nervous?  Are you sure it’s not time for bingo?”

“Oh, burn.  You’ve, you’ve cut me so deep with the old man jokes.  Wow.”  Your smile faded, and a new flavor of concern met you in his expression.  “Spit it out.”

“I don’t even know how to phrase this.”

“Well, try and we’ll go from there.”

Sam hollered back into the cabin, “Landing in twenty.”  You figured it was now or never and pushed the words out before you had the chance to swallow them.

“A few years ago, I met a fortune teller in Milan, she read my tarot, you know, standard stuff.  But she said,” you paused, “She said I’d bring the world to its knees.  That I would be a tyrant because of this.”  You raised your hands, bitterness in your voice.  “I asked Wanda and Vision to stop me if I… Telling you was the condition.”

“And if it hadn’t been, would you have told me?” he asked quietly, brow furrowed.

“I-I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

“I’d like to think I would have.”  He chewed on his lower lip, thinking.

“Just how many secrets do you have, Denna Reese?”

You thought for a moment, “Aside from the estranged, rich uncle?  That’s it.  I think.”  He shook his head, silently chuckling.

“You’re gonna give me an aneurysm.  Mm, no.  I know that face.  No old man joke.”

The jet touched down before you got the chance to play Mario Kart with Peter.  He told you he could kick your butt on the way back just as well.

You took one look around you when your feet touched the ground and said, “I take it we’re walking to the airport?”

Tony laughed, then laughed again but more boisterously.  He revealed a suitcase, seemingly from nowhere.

“If this is another car…” Wanda started.  She sighed when, in fact, it was.  “You have a serious problem, my friend.”

“You know, I like to think of it as preplanning.”

Tony’s suitcase was a seven-passenger SUV.  Sam stayed with the jet because he “wouldn’t trust Bug-boy with my bicycle,” to which Peter corrected, “Arachnid!”  Once again you found yourself smushed next to Bucky in the very back.

You grumbled, “What’s a girl gotta do to earn a window seat around here?” in between Peter and Bucky.

They all responded with things like, “Stop an alien invasion,” and “Diffuse a bomb,” and, your personal favorite, “Be a kiss ass.”

“Okay, who said that?” Tony exclaimed, “I will pull this suitcase over.”

“You really are horrible at bluffing,” Vision said, grinning.  Steve laughed in agreement.

With exaggerated exasperation, Tony sighed and said, “FRIDAY, can I get an update on General Andre Marino’s location?”

“It appears he’s still in Linate Airport, Mr. Stark.  Security cameras show him entering a shop on the second floor.”

“Mr. Stark, I have to ask,” you began, “Does everything you own have Bluetooth?”

He thought seriously about the question for a bit before saying, flatly, “Yes.”

“Where did Peter go this time?” you asked Bucky, who never took his eyes off the crowd when he shrugged.  The three of you were supposed to be sweeping the second floor for Marino, but one moment Peter was behind you and the next… Well.  Teenagers, what’s there to do?  You spotted a gigantic Lego man outside a shop.  That had to be it.  You touched Bucky’s arm ever so lightly.  “Come on, I’ve got a hunch.”

He followed you obediently into the store and you fanned out as best two people can.  A cornucopia of gadgets lined the shelves, right up Peter’s alley.  You wanted to find him before any development in the task at hand.

At last you found him playing a demo X-Box with a child that looked about ten years old.  You and Bucky converged on him with near-comedic synchrony.

“Peter, what the heck?” you said, hands on your hips.

“We are in a foreign country, you can’t just wander off!” Bucky exclaimed, arms crossed.

Peter’s gaze flicked to the two of you sheepishly.  “Just give me one second…” he trailed off, concentrating again on the game.

His opponent scoffed, “Your parents here to save you from an ass whooping?”

“Excuse me?” you said, appalled.

Bucky let himself steam a little before saying to Peter quietly, “May I remind you that we are here on business?”

“May I remind you, that we’re supposed to blend in?  I can keep an eye on this whole wing from here.”

Bucky surrendered, growling, “At least tell me where you’re going next time, kid.”

A voice from the watch Tony had lent you said, “Denna, anything?”

“Nothing on the North side, Steve.”  Steve was presumably finished with speaking to building security, and Wanda and Vision had taken stairwell duty.  Tony was drawing the attention of other shoppers by, well, being himself.

“Let’s go, I think he’s got this covered,” you said with a pivot, heading for the entrance.  In a few feet though, you felt him stop.  You turned to find him looking thoughtfully at a new drone model.

“Thinking about spying on your neighbors?”

He sighed and smiled, turning to you.  “I’ve been myself in this century for years, but every time I think I’ve grasped the technology of the age… There’s always one more thing I can’t wrap my head around.”

“You should talk to Stark about this stuff.  Once he gets going, he doesn’t stop until somebody’s passed out.”

Bucky’s expression grew troubled.  “He doesn’t like me much.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I killed his parents.”  Well, that you didn’t know what to do with.  Though, it did seem to explain why you’d never seen them talk directly to each other.

“Ah,” you said, frowning, “That would do it.”

“Guys,” came a different voice from your watch, “Café across the floor, North side.  Visual on Marino.”  You turned your head slowly, trying to be casual.  General Marino was in fact directly across the floor.  A short blond greeted him with a chilly smile.  Tiffany Strucker, you presumed. 

You let your gaze linger a heartbeat too long before you realized she too was sweeping the crowd.  Your attention snapped back to the drones.  When you glanced back in her direction, she was looking right at you, smirking.  She said something you couldn’t discern to Marino, who followed her eyeline to you.  Shit.

“She saw me,” you muttered into your watch, letting Bucky pull you deeper into the store.  The two of you ducked behind a display of remote control boats, creeping slowly along the wall to the back corner.

“My, my.  The picture in your file really does not do you justice.”  Tiffany Strucker stood in front of you.  As you looked up, you saw black pumps covering small feet, conservative flesh-colored hose and a skirt suit on a dainty frame, and a greedy smirk below a high ponytail.  “Oh, get up,” she said, suddenly annoyed.

Your fists clenched, but you obeyed.

Her smile was brilliantly white as she continued, “And Sergeant Barnes, good to meet you.  How is our mutual friend, Winty?”

“Dead,” he replied, tone cold with hatred.

“Is he now?  Interesting.”

“What do you want?” you interjected.

She giggled, waving Marino over.  “Isn’t it obvious?”

At the edge of your vision, you saw the flash of a familiar color.

Tiffany groaned, “I had really hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”

“Now would be a great time for Model 20 C!” Tony yelled at you in between firing blasts out of his suit at the Hydra foot soldiers that seemed to flood in from everywhere.

Steve had General Andre Marino in handcuffs and marched him down the stairs.  Vision and Tony spoke to building security.  Wanda had been roped into a conversation with a tourist and their small daughter, who looked at her in awe.  Peter was back in the toy store.

Bucky looked around for you wildly.  He had just seen you playing with one of Stark’s ridiculous suits.  Okay, it wasn’t ridiculous.  It’d certainly shielded you from a few hits, which he was grateful for.  But now he couldn’t find you, and it was freaking him out.  He didn’t know where that tiny Hydra psychopath had gone either, and he had a sinking feeling that those two things were related.

“Did you see where Strucker went?”

Bucky whirled around.

You stood in front of him, hands on your hips.  The look in his eyes took you off guard; it was an odd combination of frustration, relief and lingering concern.  He held your gaze and shook his head.

“She must’ve gotten out in the struggle.  Eh, at least we got him.”  You gestured at Marino.

Tony waved at you, “Back to the jet before we all get arrested.  Where’s Peter?”

“I’ll get him,” Bucky grumbled and ducked back into the store, returning soon with Peter in tow, still wearing his suit.

As you followed the rest of them down the stairs, you noticed the people looking at you through their phones’ cameras, glad Model 20 C had a helmet that covered your face.

“This is absurd, you can’t extradite me.  I am a United States General, who authorized this?”  General Marino was indignant.  The handcuffs were not helping.

Tony scoffed, “Maybe you forgot, but the Sokovia Accords were dissolved two years ago after all that nasty business in Wakanda.  We,” he made a helicopter motion with a finger, “aren’t under the government.”

“General, we just want to know what you know,” Steve stepped in, the picture of composure.

“Ah, yes.  Captain America.  Good to see you following foreign policy.”

“General, Hydra sent some odd thirty men to capture two of my friends, twice, and you just had lunch with a high-level operative.  You’ll have to forgive my lack of diplomacy.”

The General turned his attention to you and Bucky, the both of you glowering in the corner.  The singular difference between your expressions was Bucky’s pulsating right temple.  Marino suppressed a gulp, which would have made you laugh, if you hadn’t wanted so badly to hit him.  He was an imposing man, but, come on, Bucky had a metal arm and one hell of a glower.

“What, is he your enforcer or something?”

“You’re changing the subject General.”  Vision approached the General slowly.  “Let’s start with Hydra.  What’s the end game?”

“Don’t know.”

“Why is Hydra after Denna?”

“Don’t know”

“How about Tiffany Strucker.  Where is she?”

“Listen, pal, we can go around in circles all day.  Or.  We can cut to the chase.”

Vision mumbled, “I thought that was cutting to the chase.”

“Yes,” said Bucky, stalking up close to an uncomfortably short distance, “Let’s cut to the chase.  You can go down for attempted kidnapping, or Strucker can.”

“Nothing you have would be admissible in a court of law,” the General scoffed, uncertain.

“No, no, think bigger.  What happens when your friends learn you’re not just a communist, but a Nazi?  Or when your family learns you sent two dozen armed men after a mutant girl?  Or when your superiors learn that you were part of an armed assault of a public place on foreign soil?”  Bucky shrugged and rejoined you in the corner, satisfied with his intimidation.

“I-I never.”  The General cleared his throat.  “You have to understand, that was all Strucker.”

Steve demanded, “Then tell us where she is.”

“Last we talked about it, she was taking a train to Florence, direct connection.  If you leave now, you might be able to catch her.  Milan Central’s about twenty minutes from here.”

Bucky nodded, accepting a fist-bump from you.  “I know it.”

“Now, um.  Can I get out of these?”  The General raised his hands and wiggled his wrists a bit.

Tony clapped him on the shoulder, forcing him to sit down.  “I wouldn’t count on it.”  The rest of you gathered closer together, speaking quietly.

Steve began, “Alright, we have our marching orders.  Let’s go.”  He paused and pointed at Tony, “You should stay here.  One person sees you and we’re all blown.  And you two,” he looked at you and Bucky, who threw his head back in a groan, “You’re sitting this out too.”

“Would you save it?” Bucky growled, “I’m done hiding.”

Steve looked at you expectantly, “Denna?  Should I expect a protest from you too?”

“No.  I’m good, today was headache enough.  But, you definitely want Jim along if he knows the area.”  Bucky gestured at you in a “there you go” sort of way and Steve caved, much like he usually did.

“Fine, fine.  But keep an eye on Marino, will you?’  You nodded and felt an inexplicable pang as you watched them leave the jet without you.  Sam hopped along giddily, talking about taking ass and kicking names in a sing-song voice.

Bucky was the last one out, and at the last moment he turned back to you to say, “This will be over soon.”  Th hatch closed with a heavy whoosh and you exhaled, suddenly very tired.

“So.”  Tony sidled up to you conspiratorially.  “You and Barnes gonna be a thing now?”

“What? No,” you said, nerves gathering themselves in the pit of your stomach and a strange burning sensation sparking close to your eyes.  Of course, you’d noticed how time-stopping his beauty was when you’d met him.  But, given your circumstances, you didn’t know if you could ever be with anyone, and had put it out of your head.  At least, you tried.  Changing the subject, you slipped off Tony’s watch and handed it back to him.  “Thank you for this.  Really.”  He smirked in his genuine smirky way and nodded, slipping the device back into his suit pocket.

“You look terrible.  I can keep an eye on this meathead if you want a nap.  We may be here for a while.” 

A yawn surprised you just as you were about to decline.  Instead, you thanked him and curled up in a corner using your arm as a pillow.

“Trap… Bucky… just like the last time… the train… he’s… on our way back… need to regroup…” 

A hodgepodge of words over a comm broke through your slumber.  But three consecutive words managed to reach you.  And they seized your gut with an icy vengeance.

“Strucker has Bucky.”

[currentlyfangirrling]

Taxi pt. 2 (Sebastian Stan x Reader)

Plot: In which a young girl goes to New York for the first time and accidentally gets into an already occupied Taxi.

Warnings: Age gap, fluff

AN: sorry that I am a horrible writer! Please let me know what you think about my story!!

“Do you want to hangout in my room? I highly doubt the cab is still downstairs.”

He laughed, “Yeah, I’d like that actually.”

I smiled and then turned back around to lead him to my room.

Once I got to my room, I put my room key into the slot and opened the door. When I looked into the room, I forgot that Claire and my stuff was spread out in the hotel room.

“Sorry for the mess. I wasn’t expecting company. Obviously,” I said.

Sebastian just laughed and said, “If you think this is messy then you should not see my place. It’s trash.”

I cleaned up some of the stuff and through clothes into backs and pushed them out of the way.

“Do you have a roommate?”

“Yeah, my friend Claire. She’s with some guy right now at his place. So she won’t be here,” I replied. I through my wallet and phone into the bedside table. My wallet fell open with my ID showing.

“Alright sweet. So you’re 20,” Sebastian questioned, leaning against the desk next to me.

“Yeah, I have a fake ID so that I can get drinks,” I confessed. I knew he was older, but I didn’t think it would ever be a problem.

“At least you’re legal...” Sebastian whispered to himself.

“What?” I question.

“Did I just say that out loud? I’m sorry. I’m not a creep. I just-“ Sebastian started to feel uncomfortable and it showed.

I laughed at how uncomfortable he became, “It’s ok. I’ll take it as a compliment.” I made my way to turn on the television and told him I would be right back. I wanted to get into my pajamas. I grabbed my pajamas set and headed to the bathroom.

As I was changing I realized that I must have dropped my pajamas shorts outside because all I had was my top. I was standing there in the bathroom with no shorts on when I shouted to Sebastian to grab my shorts out of my bag.

Sebastian searched my bag but found nothing. I sighed, “ok! Cover your eyes. I’ll grab them myself.”

Sebastian laughed and agreed. As I walked out of the bathroom his eyes were covered and I started to look for my shorts. When I found them I was so happy and slipped them on before Sebastian saw me.

“Is it okay if I open my eyes now?” Before I could respond, he already opened them. I smiled and then sat on the edge of my bed, “Want to watch a movie or something?”

“Sure,” Sebastian replied, climbing onto my bed and making himself comfortable. I laughed at him as he made his way to the top of the bed and pulled the sheets over himself.

I turned on some random show, turned off the lights, and climbed into bed. “Tell me something about yourself,” Sebastian spoke, he clearly was not into the show.

“Umm, I go to (Y/C). I have an older brother. Parents divorced. Majoring in marketing and management. I have a dog named, Charlie. What else do you want to know?” I replied.

Sebastian turned over to face me, “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go and why?”

“Wow, getting deep,” I joked. “I’d go to Thailand. I spent sometime helping at an elephant conservation one summer and I loved it! Definitely want to do it again! What about you?”

“Right now? I want to go back home honestly. I haven’t been in a few years and I miss it.” Sebastian replied.

“Wow. I would miss my family too much.”

“Comes with the job. It’s hard sometimes, but it’s worth it.” Sebastian shrugged his shoulders. “So,” Sebastian said, moving closer towards me. “Do you really think I’m hot?”

My face grew red as he gave me a wink and a smirk, “I mean...yeah. I wouldn’t lie about that!”

Sebastian’s facial expression grew lustful. His hands made their way to my thigh and his face slowly came closer to mine. My heart began to skip beats.

Before I knew it, Sebastian’s face was centimeters away from mine, “So you wouldn’t mind if I kissed you right now?”

I was frozen in place as Sebastian’s lips collapsed into mine softly. His lips were a perfect fit for mine. His hands traced up and down my legs and soon made their way up to my cheeks. He cupped my face as he kissed me.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer into me. His body radiated heat as he got onto of me. His arms were on either side of me. As he deepened his kiss I could feel the bulge in his jeans.

I wrapped my legs around his waist as he started to kiss my law down to my collarbone.

Then he stopped, “You okay?”

“Yeah, are you?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I mean you’re amazing, and I don’t want to sleep with you and ruin anything that we could have. It’s stupid. We just met...” Sebastian sat up.

“Do you want to take this slow?” I asked, concerned.

Sebastian hesitated, but I could tell that he wanted to say yes. “Do you?”

“I think you’re great, obviously. But if I’m being honest, I want to take this slow,” I replied.

As we agreed to not continue, Sebastian wrapped his arms around me as we both drifted to sleep.