C. MARCH.

you know . . . 𝐢 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧.

[goesagainst]

𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮, friend. there's only a few people that call me carroll, anymore. that's my mother when she's angry and 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝 all the time. now, both of those are women i wouldn't dare presume to tell anything different. but for you and me ? it's carrie.

independent writing blog for original character carroll lindsay march, 52nd vice president of the united states of america, affiliated with @newsworth and @halechief. handled by scallop, sam, and mikel. triggering content present, to include dark political themes, murder, terrorism, gun violence, and more. information incoming.

[halechief]

another moment is spent in perusal of the floor beneath her before her eyes cut up from the carpet to meet his own. you're a good person. claire has really never been sure about that one. most days she feels decidedly otherwise, but when he says you care about people, there's no second guessing of that, for her. she does care. sometimes too much, sometimes dangerously, but she cares. for that alone, she lets a soft smile come to her features, and smoothly disregards the former. her arms uncross as she straightens from the wall, and paces evenly across the space that separates them with a look of something near approval on her face. "it sounds like a very gracious approach. and probably the best one."

they've shared smoke of many kinds before, but claire can't say she's indulged in very many cigars in her life. the smell and taste could either be indulgent or overwhelming, more often than not toeing a fine line between that had largely led her to leave francis to his, and find other means of celebration for herself. but this is hardly a celebration. she accepts the offer with a slight twist of her lips, brows raising as she slants her gaze downward at him, not yet having opted to take a seat. "i'm assuming i can count on you to help me up the stairs if this makes me sick?" it won't, but she's not above a joke in regards to her tolerance, when he knows better than to take it to heart.

the smoke blankets her tongue when she draws it in, and she is relieved and pleased to find it palatable. brows raise slightly in contemplation of the fact, she rolls the cigar thoughtfully between her fingers for a moment and expels the breath with a more purposeful smile. she holds it back out for him. "mm. not bad. but, not for me, i think." carroll accepts the return graciously, and she moves then to take up residence in one of the chairs facing him, the desk an island between them. one leg crosses the other, and her head tilts slightly to the side.

"you want to talk about it? or do you just want to talk."

[goesagainst]

"plenty of practice with the cradle carry under my belt." something most widowers have. eventually the primary bedroom had been moved downstairs so that april could walk to their bed on what remained of her own strength. for some time before then, the weight of her body in his arms, even as frail as it had become, spilled such a bittersweet ache into the aged cartilage in his knees as they would ascend the stairs together and pull laughter from the shared memory of a much clumsier wedding night. 

look at us. certainly not teenagers anymore, are we, baby? his wife had said into his shoulder. thank god for that, he had thought. thank god for all the years carried on the wind of that giggled fact, he thinks now as he reaches out to take the cigar back from across the mahogany distance between him and claire. 

“yeah.” carrie takes another puff and it leaves his body to curl into the resemblance of a strangers face in the atmosphere above their heads. “april never liked ‘em, neither. the smell.” with that, he lets the cigar lie useless in the ashtray to burn out on its own.

nobody really asks to talk about her, not anymore. carrie cant say he blames them with the fact being that death always seems to turn the air stale, but its a lonely thing to admit to himself that he can’t remember when the last time was that he said her name out loud in a private moment such as this. he stares claire’s offer in her face and considers its sincerity, feeling the muscles within his own begin to soften, wondering after the last time someone had asked her if she’d like to talk about frank in the same thoughtful manner, as his only survivor. if she would like for him to take the answer into his own hands.  “don't know. i heard from a staffer, who heard from another staffer, that all the interns think we use our one on ones as some sort of… widow support group. smoke a bunch of grass. talk about our dead spouses.” his mouth cringes around the words like there need be any further indication that they're not his. the chair creaks as it accepts him back into its hollow. “i hate provin’ people right." after a moment, carrie shrugs again and tries to make sense of the shape that watches over them. "i thought missing ‘em was supposed to be a blessing as much as it is a grief. does it ever actually feel like that, to you?”

[goesagainst]

" i know you mean it, claire. " carrie ashes into the tray on his desk. cigars burn and taste differently when they're smoked inside. today has put him in a mood to christen his office with a montecristo that he'd been saving for something special and a heart to heart with a friend seems like an appropriate occasion, especially when that friend is the leader of the free world. she's unlikely to snitch. " and how do i know that? "

his mouth's softly tired and dimpled smile is not impeded by the fact that she's turned her gaze towards the floor and won't get the chance to see it before it melts at the warmth of his sincerity; part of what makes his earnestness so palpable is the fact that it doesn't go away when people aren't looking. " you're a good person. you care about people. "

april cared about people. she listened when they talked and always remembered the things they told her. if there weren't so many, if it were possible for carrie to list them all, the immeasurable capacity to care so damn much would've been pretty high up on the equally immeasurable reasons why he loved her. he always said they would never have enough time for him to draw up one of those. a list. he hadn't known how true that was until he really, really knew.

grief can isolate a person, so it means a lot to him that claire has come to see him and that he can tell she didn't just do it because she felt like she had to. he remembers that he's not the only one in the room that has had his late spouses name in the mouth of the press before, and that if it were a contest then she would win by a pretty substantial margin. he takes another puff of the cigar and then holds it out for her to cross the room. " what they all want is a reaction. i kinda like the idea of pissin' them off by not having one. how's that sound to you, big dog? "

@halechief / cont.

[gifsontherun]

Bosch | 5.03 “The Last Scrip”

[goesagainst]

@vlyuvdova from here.

❝ i never did hear anyone say woman plans and god laughs. ❞ he is seated comfortably in the sofa across from her, his forearms resting on his thighs and his fingers threaded where his hands droop between them. his thumbs chafe against one another, and his head weighs to the side. ❝ for good reason, sounds like. what's your plan here, miss romanova? or is like wishes - can't say 'em or they don't come true? ❞

[newsworth]

goesagainst​:

❝ who said anything about cashin’ in favors? that’d be more of that low hanging fruit we don’t much care for. ❞ his feet drag a little closer to the base of the bookcase he’s leveraged himself against, enough that his right leg can take to a steady, subtle bounce. ❝ back to you though, and the truth. how you settling in so far? you seem like a guy who can enjoy a challenge … if that’s the case, i bet you’re having a field day. ❞

     “ not the way i do it,  mr. vice president. “   the weight of a promise is there,  no matter how casually its made.  things feel a little formal with him sitting behind the desk this way,   so he rises and rounds the sharp mahogany corner to seat himself on the edge.  “ it’s… “  there’s a pause,  a moment he uses to consider how he wants to respond.   he ends up hanging onto it for maybe a second too long and laughs at himself for it.  “ an adjustment ,   that’s for sure.   but not as big of one as i expected.   the last time i was in washington i was working from the other side of the podium ,   so i thought it might take a little longer for me to feel like i was getting back into the rhythm of this place. “ 

     “ it’s just,  um.. “   he glances at the door and then leans into the space that separates them ,  like he’s passing on a secret.  “ is coulson always like that?   i don’t think he likes me very much. “ 

[goesagainst]

carroll laughs at the question. he can't help himself, it's a short bark and a sudden stop, but the smile sticks in place. he slides beyond not the way i do it, mr. vice president, even though it piques his interest. it's an adjustment. he'd felt the same when he first came on board, and he has no doubt that while the shift from new york to d.c. was maybe not so jarring physically as colorado to d.c., there is nothing on earth that adequately prepares a person to be a passenger on this ship - let alone one of the people with a hand on the wheel.

❝ phil's job revolves around curating the president's space. it's a duty he approaches with a . . . well, a military sort of zeal. it's good for business. not so much for fostering workplace relationships. don't hold your breath tryin' to make him like you. he'll happily watch you go blue in the face. ❞

[halechief]

C. MARCH.

this feels so self indulgent; back on the ranch, outside on the wraparound porch with the smell of a grill going and nothing but the grasshoppers to judge… different story. rolling a jay outside the oval office? yeah. indulgent. he loosens the tie and then discards it all together because fuck it, why not, right. how many times will he ever get to do this, to be here? after all, when the president asks you to serve…

“ you got a way with words, big dog. ” he laughs and lights what could, of course, from afar look just like any other cigarette. “ gotta reckon j.f.k. hit a few of these back in his day. ”

❝  more than a few, if i had to guess. and probably worse than this.  ❞   she doesn’t mention the private entrance, the stairwell with the scorch mark on the wall. claire would bet every last dime remaining to her that he’d have done it there, quicker than out here. she’s not as ashamed by the prospect of getting caught, truth be told. times have changed. 

❝  get up to anything interesting today?  ❞   this she says with a tilt of the head, waiting for him to pass it over with an unhurried air - they’ve got time.  ❝  i heard there were some fires to put out with the republicans this afternoon.  ❞  

[goesagainst]

he doesn't hold onto it; the smoke traps in his lungs as he passes the roll and he exhales slowly, measured, well practiced. he's not exactly fucking chong, but he's still from colorado. go figure, right?

" they've got a bee in their bonnet about the chesapeake bay cleanup bill and the word regulated bein' in the first sentence of anything. crack a dictionary sometime. " he doesn't hold overly much ire towards it all, though, just frustration. "it all straightened out in the end. no big. " he waits a beat and lets the cold sit in his lungs for just a half-tick. " what about you? no shortage of assholes i'm sure. "

[halechief]

❝  oh, just the snipers on the roof … ❞   claire smiles, the curl coming easily to her as she follows him out into the chill. her hands are tucked into her pockets at first, but they withdraw in short order, a lighter retrieved from the depths and held up like contraband. 

❝  why don’t we light ourselves a little covering fire?  ❞  

[goesagainst]

this feels so self indulgent; back on the ranch, outside on the wraparound porch with the smell of a grill going and nothing but the grasshoppers to judge... different story. rolling a jay outside the oval office? yeah. indulgent. he loosens the tie and then discards it all together because fuck it, why not, right. how many times will he ever get to do this, to be here? after all, when the president asks you to serve...

" you got a way with words, big dog. " he laughs and lights what could, of course, from afar look just like any other cigarette. " gotta reckon j.f.k. hit a few of these back in his day. "

[goesagainst]

this feels so self indulgent; back on the ranch, outside on the wraparound porch with the smell of a grill going and nothing but the grasshoppers to judge... different story. rolling a jay outside the oval office? yeah. indulgent. he loosens the tie and then discards it all together because fuck it, why not, right. how many times will he ever get to do this, to be here? after all, when the president asks you to serve...

" you got a way with words, big dog. " he laughs and lights what could, of course, from afar look just like any other cigarette. " gotta reckon j.f.k. hit a few of these back in his day. "

[goesagainst]

@halechief

carrie never has liked the cut of a tie or italian loafers. makes him feel cheap, easily-bought -- they mean the same thing, sweetheart, he can hear april saying in his head as he steps out onto the south portico. jesus, january in d.c. is about as cold as the front range. anyway, he doesn't like the suit and he doesn't like the office and he doesn't like the ribbon cutting; when the president asks you to serve your country, you damn well say yes, so he's going to keep doing the ribbon cutting and keep wearing the suit but. this small concession. this one little thing? he can acquiesce.

" do you think anybody knows we're out here? "

[goesagainst]

by the way it is canon that carroll does call claire "big dog" and "boss" which . obviously is so terribly important to me.

[newsworth]

goesagainst​:

i don’t like to dog pile. carroll smiles, pushing against his own leg to lean backward, shoulder blades meeting the wall. ❝ you know, claire might have a point with you, brady … ❞ of course she does. he hopes that his regard for her is implicit enough that he doesn’t have to reframe it blatantly. he’ll wait and see.

❝ if we’re being honest, i had as much business running for governor as some of these guys do gunning for president. didn’t stop me, so i doubt it’s gonna make them shiver. ❞ there’s a pause, in which his head leans to the side, appraising the other man casually. ❝ one can only hope some of your friends back in the news division give them a run for their money. somehow i don’t see our fearless leader going for the kind of op ads that kicked the shit outta me. deserved or not. ❞

     " here’s hoping it’s a good one. “   he balances the measured tone of his voice away from the thought of casting any doubt on her judgement so that it’s slightly heavier on the side that might have suspect that sort of thing from march.   

     march doesn’t have the benefit of knowing how the trust that got him this opportunity was earned ,    that by making the right decisions with all the chances she’s given before is what made that faith into what it is today.   truthfully ,   chris is not satisfied enough with those decisions to really need march to put stock in them.   he would never dream of having come here just to skate by on the power of claire’s approval ,   and he’s not complacent enough to expect that to go without saying.

     “ low hanging fruit isn’t really her style ,  or mine. “   his head tilts towards the heavily edited program of one of their  ‘ competitors ‘  on the mounted tv before he turns it off.   the room becomes dramatically dimmer without it ,  warm toned lamplight getting absorbed into the dark stain wood of his desk and shelves.   “ half of these guys aren’t even really built to withstand a full primary ,  so natural selection will take care of them well before i’ll feel the need to start cashing in favors from old coworkers. “

[goesagainst]

❝ who said anything about cashin' in favors? that'd be more of that low hanging fruit we don't much care for. ❞ his feet drag a little closer to the base of the bookcase he's leveraged himself against, enough that his right leg can take to a steady, subtle bounce. ❝ back to you though, and the truth. how you settling in so far? you seem like a guy who can enjoy a challenge . . . if that's the case, i bet you're having a field day. ❞

[prettyboyspence]

[gifsontherun]

Bosch | 1.04 “Chapter Four: Fugazi”

[newsworth]

@goesagainst​ said,  “don’t worry. i’ll tell you if you’re boring.” 

     chris wasn’t worried ,   not really ,  but a surprising comfort still comes to him when he looks up from his draft to laugh at march’s comment.  usually there are worse things to be on your first day on the job.  

     “ if they don’t eat me alive before you get the chance. “   he uses the data binder in his hand to point out the they in question ,   the blood hungry members of the press corps seated down the hall in wait for him to give his first of hopefully many briefings.   “ this very well may be our first and last conversation together ,   mr.  vice president. “  

[goesagainst]

❝ well if it is the last, it was nice meeting you, brady. ❞ he crosses the space between them with hands still in his pockets, drawing one out only when he's come to a stop in front of him, head hanging down to eye where his palm's been offered. he waits for it to be accepted before glancing back up, noting as he does that they're eye to eye, and there's a little twitch of his smile in response.

❝ you're gonna do great, chief. and hey, feel free to let me know if you hear any badmouthin'. been a minute since i got to give a little attitude, i'd like the opportunity if it comes up. vp is kind of a decorative position, if you know what i mean. ❞

[gifsontherun]

The One and Only: Hieronymus “Harry” Bosch

Bosch | 1.07 “Chapter Seven: Lost Boys”

[goesagainst]

i love giving big hot guys girly little names, making them written for the female gaze, making them in love with one or more of my other characters, and finally, making them have big tits

[gifsontherun]

Bosch | 1.07 “Chapter Seven: Lost Boys”