#haethcliffs

[tahitiwoke]

@haethcliffs

phil has made his life in watching people; their habits, their quirks, the things they don’t do interspersed among what they are doing, what they should be doing. a missed meal here. a bad hair day there. it’s all so fucking textbook that he has grown utterly fatigued of the droll day to day of the white house; which means his attention slips on tyler. 

his attention slips which means when he walks into his office and sees this lanky streak of piss standing there, he isn’t sure what to make of it. 

     “ -- can i help you? “

[quismetarc]

@haethcliffs

we were never meant to turn out like this,   joe.    this fucked up game of cat and mouse that we play with each other was never meant to get this far.    this was to be your punishment,   your wicked consequence for making me the fool in front of so many women.    ' love,   won’t know, '    is that what you told them ?    that i was the daft wife too preoccupied with raising our son to notice you spending hours and hours at a library job that barely paid you minimum wage ?    and did they believe it or did they pity me ?    did you even care as long as you got what you want ?    that’s the thing about us,   about the quinn-goldbergs.    somehow,   despite the obstacles life always seems to throw at us,   we always get what we want.    me,   with my golden parachute that every lover likes to remind me of,   and you,    with your sheer,  dumb luck.    you should be dead by now,   joe.    dead or rotting in a jail cell for when the police would finally put two and two together.    but i’ve become your saviour,   what i vowed i would be at the altar.    forever and always,   in sickness and health.    in murder and in the cover up for murders. how morbid.

❝   stop looking at me like that.   ❞   now is when you should be rejoicing.   your wife is back !   alive,   no longer missing,   no longer a victim of your suspected crimes !    and yet you stare at me across the room with nothing but contempt.   maybe i just have to come to terms with it.   you hate the woman you decided to marry,   the mother of your child and your undeniable soulmate.    fine,   maybe sending the authorities on your case was cruel. maybe this entire mind game was more than a little fucked up.   but i’ve reassured you over and over again that quinn family hush money had weight even in the suburbs.    i even shooed the dream team of sherry conrad and dottie quinn off our doorstep because i understand you need the privacy to collect yourself.    ❝   sit down and i’ll explain.   ❞   i’m still tired from the entire ordeal because i hadn’t expected my plans to change so drastically.    in another time,   i was meant to come back miraculously to madre linda after you had been convicted of your crimes.   as much as it pains me to admit, a part of me had desperately wanted to see you behind bars,  joe.   only for long enough for you to rethink your choices and who you would choose.   long enough for you to come to your senses and choose me.    

but i’m a romantic at heart and so are you,   i could tell.    you worried for me,   you cared,   and i see you.

[tahitiwoke]

There’s a chance you might be in the wrong business.

when he cracks an eye and looks up at the blurry form of some intern he'd spoken to a handful of times, it's the first thing he hears: there's a chance you might be in the wrong business.

wait.

is he in a fucking box? like one of those glass cages you use to preserve books or papers or mummies, whatever the fuck the louvre operates these days, and phil is standing in one. a peach pit sized lump swollen to the touch and sensitive when he swipes a palm over the back of his head throbs; it's too-bright in the little square of room against the dark of the room he assumes is a basement.

(this little fucker has taken his tie and his shoes -- and has his babe ruth signed baseball bat propped up against the wall.)

" -- what the fuck are you doing, tyler? "

[exspiritment]

@haethcliffs said: tell me what you want me to do so I can decide whether I want to do it or not.

Unfortunately for Joe, this is another test. It's one not only trying his devotion, but also the limits of his own abilities. She has some idea of what Joe is capable of, but she has this insatiable desire to see things play out in front of her.

And, no, she will not end up like Candace or Love or Beck. She knows enough from their lamentations to believe, quite confidently, that she's different from all of them.

"There's this asshole at work causing me problems." (A rival dealer on her same scale is selling the rich, haughty college kids better coke.) "I want you to — you know — get an idea of his schedule. What he does, where he goes. Maybe you'll see something shady. Maybe I'll confront him. Maybe, like, just the idea of having eyes on him will be enough to get him to chill out." She's affecting a voice that she hopes conveys innocence.

"—don't just stare at me. Tell me what you're thinking."

[halechief]

is sex with the president called poitus?

wouldn’t you like to know, coffee boy.

[thirtean]

looking kind of lonely there.

she looks lonely, because she is. because sure, an on-again-off-again relationship with steve rogers has its' perks — six two, the rippling bicep muscles, the hands, the fact that he's opened all but a handful of doors for her since they met, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. the downside happens to be the fact that either, or both, get called away at a moment's notice, because the world always comes before a burger and a screw in the back of her car.

sharon had set that rule up, so she doesn't really get to complain. but she does get to be a little annoyed — she'd shaved her legs, for chrissakes — while she downs a beer and her burger, and glares down the forty niners game like it had personally been the one to make steve call out.

" girl can't just take herself out for dinner without being lonely ? " sharon doesn't even bother looking away from the bar tv, just wipes ketchup off the corner of her mouth and sucks it off of her thumb. " no one ever accuses men of being lonely if they're eating dinner by themselves in public. " sharon waves the hand that's holding the burger in it in his direction, nonchalantly. " case in point. "

[thirtean]

you’re attracted to the truth.

" attracted's a strong word. i just don't appreciate being lied to. " sharon hooks a thumb into the pocket of her shield-issued windbreaker, cocks a hip like she's judging. because she is — because what idiot gets involved in a joint government investigation, surrounded by the best spies in the world and doesn't look a little nervous ? " you're not my usual coffee guy. "

[halechief]

i'm sorry, i'm not what you think i am.

❝  what are you, then?  ❞ her attention, now, is scathingly direct. it is not the polite, favorable but mostly sightless gaze he's been given up to this point : claire had not wanted him to feel pinned, as she knows her attention can do on occasion, so she had looked through him rather than down to the core, and she thinks, now, he can feel the difference. whatever portion of her sight, her consideration, he thinks he's been afforded, is nothing compared to the weight of what is resting on him now. her head angles to one side, her hands coming to a clasp in front of her as she steps a little further into the room and plants herself, heels together.  ❝  actually, let's table that. how did you get in here?  ❞