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Lindsey McDonald
22 July 2010 @ 02:44 pm
“Isn’t this kind of corny?” I asked Lilah as the coven dipped the apples, one after another, into the resinous black goo. “I mean chances are they’ve all seen Snow White.”

“You can’t always turn your nose up at a classic, Lindsey,” Harlan said, smiling as the apples came out shiny, red and down right sexy. “They’re classics for a reason.”

“Right, sir.” I rocked back on my heels, going over in my head all the ways that Angel and Company would get through this little annoyance too. “Do you want me to deliver them?”

“Lilah’s delivering these,” he said.

100 Drabbles of Summer Master List
 
 
Temper temper: nervousnervous
 
 
Lindsey McDonald
29 January 2006 @ 11:04 am
Lindsey McDonald
Angel the Series
Word Count: 339
Rating: PG for the F word
deviant_muses

Am I Evil?Collapse )
 
 
Lindsey McDonald
30 October 2005 @ 07:38 pm
Lindsey McDonald
Angel
Word Count: 523
Rating: G
deviant_muses

Blue tinted ice and snow covered the chiseled mountains of the Tibetan range. He was wearing so many layers of clothing, that he couldn’t even wrap his arms around himself for an extra bit of warmth. Spell casting of any kind was out of the question as the muttered words froze before they could get past his lips. His guide had left him two days ago, when he’d told him his actual destination. The Sherpa had refused to help the crazy American go to the caves that held the demons of the dragons, and had run down the mountain. Lindsey had wished he could shoot the scruffy kid in the back with a gun or even a blast of magic, but to do that might set off an avalanche that would take him out too.

Now two nights later, his breath freezing his lungs with each intake, he pulled himself into the mouth of the Dragon. Hundreds of feet below him the villagers slept and drank, laughing about the crazy man who had paid so much to be left on the mountain to die. Wouldn’t they all be surprised when he got the scroll?

Three years of research had gone into it, fueled by a need to have his revenge on Angel and the Senior Partners for what had happened to the love of his twisted life. Finally after traveling around the world, selling his blood and anything else he could lie, cheat and steal, he’d managed to find out about the scroll, with it, he could hide from the Senior Partners and take them down at last. Or, he thought with a smile on his cracked and chapped lips, he could prove that he was worthy to be one of them. Either way was a win, win for Lindsey McDonald, and a loss for Angel.

Lindsey didn’t know how long he’d been asleep, but when he opened his eyes he was warm. Around him fires glowed, throwing moving shadows over the walls and floor. The ceiling was so high overhead that he couldn’t see it at all. “Hello?” his voice cracked as he called into the shadows. Someone had taken off his wet clothes stripping him down to what had actually still been dry underneath. “Who’s there?”

“What do you seek?” a mingling of voices hissed through the warm fetid air, smelling of brimstone and meat. “Why do you come here?”

“I’ve come for the scrolls,” he said pushing up the wall to get to his feet, his sapphire eyes darting from shadow to shadow until he found one so dark that he knew it was a passageway. “I need to read the Scroll of Imiranthas.”

“Then a game you must play first.” Lindsey twisted around almost falling when a beautiful girl with tilted almond eyes glowing a deep red, with hair like spun rubies, stepped besides him. “I am Crimson. I will be your guide through the test. When you have passed it the scrolls will be yours.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he said with a smile. “I’ve always been good at tests, and I’ve got no place else to go.”
 
 
Lindsey McDonald
26 October 2005 @ 07:57 pm
Lindsey McDonald
Angel the Series
Word Count: 403
Rating: G

The moaning and groaning had been going on non-stop for several hours. Lindsey glanced down at his watch for the umpteenth time. He hated divorce cases. Give him a good murder or attempted murder, and he was walking on cloud, but saddle him with divorce depositions and he’d rather be chewing off his own leg, or listening to Angel give him a morality lecture. A raw blast of wind, stinking of rotting meat and death blew his shaggy bangs out of his eyes as Mr. Thompson shouted that he was not about to give into his wife’s outrageous demands for a settlement that gave her the house.

“Now Mr. Thompson,” he said narrowing his eyes at the shimmering apparition sitting across the table with its representation from a rival law firm. “Such displays of temper don’t exactly put you in the kindest of lights. Your wife claims that you were abusive to her emotionally and physically for your entire marriage. Screaming at her like that isn’t going to help your case at all. Why the missus and I might just call off this little meeting, and set up a court date.”

Besides, Lindsey, a dark beauty of a woman smiled her him. Her lips were painted a vivid red, and she was dressed in the perfect little black dress. Her opera length gloves her black satin to match, and all that was missing was the pearl choker that she’d been wearing the night her husband had murdered her. Lindsey knew it was pearls, because he could still see a couple of them stuck between the puckering skin of her slashed throat. She took in a deep lungful of her cigarette, blew it out towards her dead husband who had hung himself after killing her, but some of it still trickled out along her jugular. She laid her hand on Lindsey’s arm, sending a cold shiver down his spine, and whispered in his ear.

“Now, here’s how we’re going to do this,” Lindsey said leaning forward over the dusty dining table. “Since Mrs. Thompson’s family inherited this house upon her death, and Mr. Thompson’s suicide, to say nothing of his murdering of his wife, dissolves their marriage agreement. The house should go to Mrs. Thompson for the eternity of her haunting, while her husband, Mr. Walter Thompson, should really get over himself, and walk the walk. Hell’s got a special room waiting for you.”
 
 
Temper temper: coldcold
 
 
Lindsey McDonald
27 September 2005 @ 12:42 pm
Lindsey McDonald
Fandom: Angel the Series
Word Count: 564
Rating: PG 13
deviant_muses

Bruises green, purple and crusted with dark red scabs covered the little boy’s knees just like any normal six-year-old’s, it was the matching split lip and bruised eyes that made his injuries look nothing like a fall from a bike. Little Lindsey McDonald was battered from one end of his little body to the other. As he moved, his large blue eyes darted from place to place, each time a shadow fell over his face, he’d cower back into the back seat of the Tulsa County Social Worker’s standard issue van. The cracked vinyl seats were covered with grimy fingerprints from other small hands, sticky residue from gum and candy coated just about everything that Lindsey touched when he braced himself from each bump and turn that the social worker took down the backwater dusty dirt road to his new home.

“Here we go, sweetie pie,” the social worker said as she reached into the van to grab Lindsey’s court issued duffle bug, the Adidas logo long worn off of the no-longer black fabric. “This is your new home.”

Lindsey nodded once, wiping his hand under his nose, leaving a trail of dried tears and snot in its wake to join with the dirt that was a constant part of his skin. “Won’t it be hard for my momma to find me here, ma’am?” he asked politely like he’d learned from watching old movies on cable late at night when his momma was away working. “I don’t want her to be mad at me.” Momma being mad meant that he’d get another beating. He’d had so many that he didn’t know it wasn’t a perfectly normal way to live.

“Don’t you worry sweetie pie. Your momma won’t be mad at you. She wants you to stay with these people.” The social worker smiled, but her eyes told a different story. She knew that the little boy’s mother wouldn’t be coming to get him anytime soon if ever. She’d been forced to give him up when she couldn’t keep out of jail for prostitution and drug use. With no family to step in, the courts would have no choice but to put the boy into foster care for his own protection where he’d never be seen or heard from again until he was in court for his own criminal behavior.

The house was more like a double wide mobile home next to a crumbling old house that had seen one too many dust storms and tornados. It looked like only the dust was holding it together. Lindsey wondered if there was a wicked witch buried underneath the foundation with her toes curled up because her magic shoes were gone.

“This is the boy?” the man asked, his breath stank of beer, cigarettes and old meat. “He’s a bit small. Not goin’ to be much help around here.”

“Sir, Mr. Wilson,” the social worker frowned handing him Lindsey’s paperwork. “Must I remind you that the children are not assigned to you and your wife to be worked in the fields?”

“Don’t you worry none,” the man’s wife said. Her frizzy hair was almost the color of blood wrapped around the hot rollers on her head. “We do not abuse these children. Now Lindsey, you go on up to the house and get washed up for lunch. We’re having macaroni and cheese. You like that don’t you?”
 
 
Temper temper: scaredscared
 
 
 
Lindsey McDonald
05 September 2005 @ 01:40 pm
Lindsey McDonald
Angel the Series
Word Count 445
deviant_muses

No one ever asked why I came back to LA. They all assumed it was to try to take over Wolfram & Hart, to take out the Circle of the Black Thorn, to destroy the Senior Partners, but no. I came back to LA to punish Angel. But I’m sure no one really knows why. It wasn’t because I was evil. Let’s face it most of the time I was pretty damned morally ambiguous. I walked the fence so much that I could probably walk a tightrope now.

Angel had to pay for what he did to the woman of my dreams, my sweet girl, Darla. The first time I saw her, I was bleeding to death after Angel cut off my hand. But she was still so damned beautiful. I took her under my wing, and I did my best to take care of her. I loved her more than I loved myself, but she only wanted Angel. Sure she and Drusilla let Lilah and I survive the massacre in the wine cellar when Angel left us all to die. But it was more of a case of like from her standpoint. I know she never loved me like I loved her.

When she was dying, I had Dru embrace her again, bringing her back into the vampire fold. But she still wanted Angel.

Then that fucker knocked her up. I don’t know how he did it, two of the undead creating a human life. Yes, I know it was some grand cosmic plan by what’s-her-name, but it’s still what killed her. She staked herself to save their unborn child, because even after everything I’d done for her she loved Angel.

So that’s what it’s all about Angel. I hate you. You already know that, but I hate you for forcing Darla to take her own life. She had more life in her than anyone I’d ever known, and she gave it up for you to have your squalling little brat. A brat that you couldn’t protect any better than you’d protected Darla.

That’s why you need to die Angel. You won’t even know that I’m coming when it happens. No great manipulations this time. I’ll come myself, and I’ll take you out before you even know what hit you. Then I’ll get out a leaf blower and send you on a round the world tour.

I sealed the envelope and put it into the padded envelope, and dropped it into the out going international post. Someday, Angel would get my message; I just hope he didn’t laugh it off. I wanted him to be nervous. Just this once, I wanted the upper hand.
 
 
Temper temper: determineddetermined
Music for my soul: Lennon 5:30 Saturday Morning
 
 
Lindsey McDonald
12 August 2005 @ 08:48 pm
Lindsey sat in the bed of his dirty old truck while eating the food he’d gotten at the Taco Bell at the freeway drive through. He had a full tank of gas, and enough money to last him until he got wherever he was going. He just wasn’t sure where that was. He’d played Angel once again, working with the “Champion” to find out the truth about his murderous hand, just like he’d worked him the last time to protect all those blind kids from the firm. Both times he’d gathered enough information on Wolfram & Hart to keep himself safe. This time was no exception. He’d learned enough to be safe for a very long time, but he knew that it would only be a matter of said time before they found a way to take him out.

Angel he wasn’t worried about. The big hero couldn’t see past his own nose. Not much of a visionary the Champion. If it wasn’t for Cordelia and her visions, he’d never see anything coming before it slapped him upside the head like a 4 by 4. The apocalypse could hit him like a freight train if Cordelia and Wesley weren’t always warning him. If the partners were smart, they’d find away to take those two out of the picture. Then they’d have Angel right where they wanted him.

But he pulled himself away from those thoughts. He’d left Wolfram & Hart, and Angel was no longer his problem. He was Lilah’s now. Let her deal with him. He had his own priorities to work out, like how to show the Senior Partners that he was more than capable of earning a spot among them.

In a few years, he’d go back to LA, and then wouldn’t Angel be surprised? Now that’d be the best betrayal. Angel thought he’d turned against Wolfram & Hart over the whole evil hand thing, but they’d only given him the freedom to explore all the possibilities to earn his spot on the board of directors. Yep, in a few years, wouldn’t Angel be surprised?

It brought a smile to Lindsey’s lips that didn’t fade for several hundred miles.

Lindsey McDonald
Angel the Series
Words - 362
theatrical_muse
 
 
Temper temper: amusedamused
Music for my soul: Duran Duran Astronaut
 
 
Lindsey McDonald
07 August 2005 @ 09:28 pm
Lindsey McDonald
Fandom: Angel the Series
Rating: PG 13 for language
Word Count: 366
deviant_muses

A quarter? Just a fucking quarter? How about finding a whole bag of money? Now that would have been interesting. I was born dirt poor. My mother was a battered wife until she blew my father’s brains out in the dining nook of the double wide we were living in. He was bitching at her for breaking his eggs. He should have been happy to have the eggs. I was forced to eat lumpy grits because the rest of his paycheck had been washed down with so much beer that he smelled like a brewery. My mother didn’t say anything back, but I wanted to I wanted to tell that son of a bitch what I thought of him. Problem was the last time I did it, he broke my arm. I was still wearing the dirty encrusted cast to prove it.

He reached up and grabbed her by the hair, and shoved her face into the mess on his plate. I couldn’t take it, and cast or not I told him to let my mother go. My nose took the brunt of his back hand when he sent my mother spinning the three feet she could towards the tiny kitchen to do it right this time. He was towering over me, breath stinking of beer, cigarettes and like he’d been licking his own ass when I heard the loud sound of the shot going off then felt the splatter on my face like I’d been hit with warm biscuit dough. When the cops came to get my mom I was hiding under the mobile home.

But I’m digressing. A quarter, yeah ok, so I see a quarter on the ground. What do I do with it? If I was still a kid, I’d glue it to the ground to watch how many other losers try to pick it up. That’d be fun, lots of it. Now that I’m an adult, driving around in a company car with hot and cold running expense accounts, I’d just ignore it. Let some poor fuck have it. Same reason I don’t take the soda cans out of my trash. Rather let someone who needed the cash dig ‘em out.
 
 
Temper temper: greedy
 
 
Lindsey McDonald
07 August 2005 @ 08:32 pm
Sometimes youth and treachery beats age and experience….

“So you see it’s really quite simple.” Lindsey’s lazy drawl combined with his smile would have melted the hardest heart if the woman he was talking with actually still had one, but she’d sold that along with her soul years ago for power and wealth.

“Mr. McDonald, I don’t have time for this right now. As I’m sure my attaché informed you, I have a very busy schedule.” The Senator looked across her desk at him, the neatly stacked file folders making it look like she actually did work for her constituents when one of them showed up to visit, or the interns brought a tour group by. She looked like she’d eaten someone she didn’t like with vinegar and wasabi. “If you’d have called, we could have set something up.”

“Senator,” he popped open his briefcase, and tossed a small manila envelope towards her. It was weighted on one end with something small and slender inside. Lindsey hated being an errand boy, but this time he was enjoying it. She’d reneged on a deal, and the Senior Partners weren’t happy. A section of the Alaska wilds was supposed to be turned over for mining, and she had voted against the measure. “Trust me. We did try to contact you, but for some reason our calls weren’t returned. My immediate supervisor gave me leeway to take care of this matter on my own. Now I could have come in here with a case full of money, or more promises of riches to come your way. Or I could have come in here with threats of hellfire and eternity of pain and agony for you.” Lindsey let out a slow deep breath as he watched her pale blue eyes flicker over the envelope. “But you’re too smart for idle threats senator. Why else would you think you could break your contract with us? Bet you want to know what’s in there don’t you.”

Her long French manicured nails were barely touching the corner of the envelope. Lindsey reached out, and tugged it away from her just a few inches. Picking up the photo on her desk of her two daughters, Lindsey smiled coldly at her. “I’m not here to play games Senator. You’re thinking. I’m got years of experience on this kid. The Senior Partners must have given up on winning because they sent the little league in.”

She leaned back in her chair, watching him holding the photo of her twins. In it they were sixteen years old, wearing matching gowns for their older brother’s wedding. “You don’t frighten me Mr. McDonald. You’re just a young punk who doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.”

“Why don’t you tell me about that after you open that package, Senator?”

“I have no interest in these games McDonald. Get out.”

“Not until you open your present ma’am,” he said it like he was saying bitch with the sweetest customer service voice he could muster. “Because I really don’t have all day, and neither does Emily. That is Emily, right? The one with the curlier hair, they look so much alike I don’t want to think I cut the finger off the wrong one?”

Senator Long snatched up the envelope then and tore it open. A small finger dropped onto the blotter of her desk, with a high school class ring tight on it, the bright imitation sapphire flashing under the green banker’s lamp. “Where is she?”

“Being taken care of Senator,” he said as he got up. “I trust you’ll keep this between us. I wouldn’t want to think what the Odanko demon I left her with would do to her if you betrayed us again. I think he’s taken a real shine to her. You vote the right way tomorrow, and Emily will be home safe and sound if typing impaired. Good evening Senator.”

Lindsey McDonald
Angel the Series
Word Count 650
theatrical_muse
 
 
Temper temper: deviousdevious
Music for my soul: HIM Deep Shadows and Brilliant Highlights
 
 
Lindsey McDonald
02 August 2005 @ 12:30 pm
Lindsey McDonald
Angel the Series
Rated R
Word Count 596
deviantmuses

These killing people questions are pretty funny. I’m evil, of course I’d kill someone to save someone I love, and like I care if I’d get caught if I killed someone else. I work for Wolfram & Hart, the most powerful law firm in the United States, if not the world. As if they couldn’t get me off for geeking just about anyone. I know I’ve gotten my share of guilty parties off in the name of Justice. But ok, if I really do have to answer either one or the other question I will.

If things turned out the way I’d have planned it just once…

The moronic green demon and I charged into the restaurant. My sword cut the members of the Black Thorne to bits one after another after another. Then I heard it, the sound of a gun. I spun around, my long hair spreading out from my head as I turn. The sword flashes again, and Lorne’s head went sailing across the room sending a spray of blood in a wide arch over the wallpaper. I’d been so careful not to hum or even think about music while I had been on this mission with the bastard. But I didn’t need to be able to read his mind to know that Angel had set me up. Fucker had ordered his lackey to take me out.

There’s nothing a double-crossing bastard hates more than another double-crossing bastard. So I decided to jump sides again, not that I ever really was on anyone’s side but my own anyway. I drove to the nearest hospital, and climbed up the stairwell until I got to the maternity ward. I could hear the sound of babies crying, and headed that way. You should have seen the look on the floor nurse’s face when she saw me there covered in blood and all wild eyed. She was all covered with her own blood and wild eyed when I was done with her too. I pulled three of the babies out of their cribs, and dumped them into one. I rolled the four of them out of the nursery as fast as I could go, and took the elevator to the roof.

I picked up the first kid by his diaper, and cut his little head off spilling the blood in honor of the demons of the south. Repeated as necessary for the other three cardinal directions until the rooftop was slick with blood and I’d made a rough circle. I held my arms wide apart calling on the power, and letting it ride me through and through until I knew my eyes were black as marbles. I called on the power, using it to stretch my body into a new form. Skin pulled along my arms until they were great wings, and I grew larger and larger until my cries caused thunder and lightning to strike the earth.

My wings caught the air as I vaulted off the top of the hospital. I soared over the streets of Los Angeles, what few mortals left in the way were quickly devoured by my troops. At each block as we grew closer and closer to Angel more and more demons joined the war party until the Senior Partners themselves stepped into the fray.

I heard Angel say, “Well, personally, I kind of want to slay the dragon. Let's get to work.”

That made me so happy. We were finally going to have our final dance, and this time I was the one with the big sharp teeth and claws.
 
 
Temper temper: amusedamused