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pythonscrypt · 2 years ago

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my favorite mcc moments i have watched live, from season 2

so, in honour of season 2 of mcc finally coming to an end, i really wanted to make a post highlighting some of my favorite moments i've seen live since i started watching in mcc 17. i love this silly block game tournament, i love tuning into it every month and cheering on my favorite players and teams, i love watching my favorite games, and i'm grateful for all the terrific players who put on such great performances and of course noxcrew for creating this whole event and scott for organizing it. so, without waffling about too much, here's some moments i watched live in mcc season 2 that made me absolutely lose my mind:

(note: split into two parts because otherwise it would be very long)

my first live mcc + first winner's pov: mcc 17 orange ocelots (false, grian, sb, pete)

orange17 was my first full live pov and my proper gateway into mcc and i'll never forget just how incredibly lucky i am for that - it's like if someone's first live mcc was pink22 and seeing the captain win. from start to finish it was just an epic, cinematic experience with all of them hitting homeruns on every single game while being extremely supportive of each other and having a really good time themselves. and this couldn't be better highlighted by how, with bated breath, they encouraged grian during his final 1v3 during dodgebolt. really such a fantastic team with an incredible ending that i think will go down as one of the most memorable teams of season 2. it's also through watching this team that i found out about pete, and he's since become my most watched streamer so i'm always gonna appreciate that. if i had to highlight further specific moments from them, i'd say grian's sky battle and their whole entire buildmart are pretty damn iconic

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my second live winner's pov: mcc 26 violet vampires (fruit, oli, shelby, phil)

i haven't watched fruit live in mcc very much, but i decided to this time because i just really loved this team from the start and thought it was super fun. this was a really, really fun team with excellent vibes, that was really funny, and that also played competitively and put up an excellent performance. they just worked so well together - there were so many funny convos they had in the lobbies in between games. and that's not to mention that they, particularly oli, came prepared for the event, with all the optimal strats down. when it came down to it in dodgebolt, they popped all the way off: oli had the most insane anime moment in the final round when he stared down hbomb as he shot, then immediately took him out in one shot. fruit did so well with his shooting and dodging (after doing some dodgebolt practice beforehand with zeuz), and finally WON. after five losses over a course of two years! shelby also finally won again after 2.5 years! it was such a long awaited, well deserved win and i'm so happy i was there to witness it. my favorite moments from them would definitely be their meltdown and sky battle. (linking a fan-uploaded vod here because there isn't one uploaded by any of the creators)

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mcc 24 cyan coyotes winning sot (pearl, jojo, hannah, aimsey)

oh cyan24. anyone that has ever been on this blog knows just how much i fucking adore this team. from the excitement of seeing it be announced, with hannah's mcc debut and pearl and jojo getting a round 2 after mcc 23, to all the vod reviewing and practice streams they did, where hannah painstakingly went over every single game and made google docs for ideal strats and where they also just chilled and chatted as they played (jojo and pearl talking about their cats will always be a fav moment), to event day when all their practice and hard work paid OFF. i could make a whole other post about them alone, but suffice it to say that them winning sands of time was such an electrifying moment because it's known to be the most intense and complex mcc game, both revered and feared by the playerbase. and for a team with a newcomer to win it was just so insanely exhilarating, especially since hannah was unsurprisingly the most nervous about it. cyan24's sot run has since become compulsory watching for anyone wishing to vod review to learn more about sands of time, simply because of how clean, efficient and what a masterclass in comms it is. in particular, aimsey's sandkeeping performance here was so strong, it got them labeled as one of the best sandkeepers in the event just off its sheer strength. xe had extremely clear, concise callouts, and on top of that the whole team went in knowing exactly what they were doing, so there was absolutely no time wasted and their run was very optimised. and their reaction upon seeing they came 1st will never not make me smile because they're all just so overjoyed and on cloud 9. highly, highly recommend going back to watch this if you haven't yet - it might not particularly flashy or spectacular, but it's just so well played, with a fantastic comeback story behind it (they were 7th overall before this game and 4th after, and were widely predicted to come 10th place by the reddit. because reddit.) it's also through this team that i got introduced to hannah and aimsey, who are both such incredibly lovely people and fun to watch not just in mcc but in general.

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the entire second half of pete's mcc 25

this might just be the most insane individual performance i've ever seen, simply because of how wildly it swings to each extreme of the spectrum. i made another post highlighting this after mcc 25, but the first half of this mcc didn't go too well for pete or his team lime (with captain, antvenom and jimmy). they were in 10th place overall, with pete being 40th individual after survival games. and then, the second half, which consisted entirely of individual based movement games, came in. if you've ever watched or even just heard about pete in mcc, you'd know that he's known for being incredibly strong in all of the movement games, and i don't think there could be a better display of that than his four game run here which lifted him from 40th at the beginning to 8th at the end. just watching him get 1st in ace race was an insane moment, and from there he came 2nd in hole in the wall, 1st in tgttos and 3rd in parkour tag. what made this all the more fun was how casual he was throughout all of this - it's not like he knew he was dead last individually, and was tryharding as a result of that. he was just chilling and playing the games like he normally would anyways. in between games in the lobby he remarked "i think i might be good at the movement games, and bad at the pvp ones. i don't know, might need a few more events to test this out." i definitely recommend watching his ace race if nothing else - his commentary is super funny and his reaction at the end when he wins is just great.

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mcc pride 22 yellow yaks buildmart (grian, scott, gem, shelby)

oh buildmart, buildmart, buildmart. i don't think even one post would be enough for me to fully cover and talk about my thoughts on the very tumultuous history this game has had throughout season 2, especially this year. which is why i feel that yellow pride 22, and the mind blowing dominance they showed in this game, is all the more important. it's four people who are extremely strong at buildmart, have incredible comms and coordination skills, and also happen to be damn good at building. they're all just on the same page the whole game, with grian as the manager helping steer them throughout. i'd like to note that shelby is normally known for being strong at buildmart particularly as a builder, but here, she acts as the floater responsible for gathering all the blocks and listening to grian's commands. a team would have to be extremely strong in buildmart to have shelby be their floater, and this one obviously was. if you include non canon events, this team actually holds the record for the highest scoring buildmart performance of the season, which was at one point also held by grian's team orange 17. in an era of mcc where buildmart has only gotten increasingly maligned and controversial, this performance just serves as a great reminder of all the merits of buildmart and of how the game is intended to be played at its finest.

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#b.txt #mcc

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gryfflepuffinthetardis · 3 months ago

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Machismo

Season One Masterlist

L.D.S.K.

The Fox

Warning: References past rapes; Murders; the Valdezes; Dialogues of Spanish (will be translated at the end of post via Google Translate so possibly incorrectly); Maze Valdez (She is a true warning in of itself but mild in here); References to six months of torture; Zoe is alienated, isolated, and straight-up ignored by the citizens of Oaxaca; Zoe is implied to be alienated by her family; Zoe being colder than usual; Oaxaca is probably not accurate; Hints of rape of main character; Hints/References to homophobia; "Housemates" is used to refer to a relationship between two lesbians but this is only what they claim to the public

Note: It's implied that this episode takes place during Dias De Los Muertos/Day of the Dead which take place on November first and November second, therefore that's when Hotch's birthday is and it just seems out of place in the canon order so I moved it, but also the dates used on the criminalminds.fandom.com (under the UnSubs' (known victims") are still off; City change to Oaxaca (but the dialogue implies it's a part of it where it's like a small town and there are few non-Valdez police officers at the station); Character change—Navarro is now Ciara Valdez; Like in the show, we're pretending that maiden names is a thing in Mexico, which it is not.

Summary: The BAU is requested to assist on a case in Zoe's maternal family's hometown in Mexico, Oaxaca and the team meets some of her family members, Ciara Valdez, the human equivalent of being hugged by the cartoon smiling sunshine and Maze Valdez who makes Zoe seem well-mannered.

"There is nothing stronger than a woman who has rebuilt herself" — Hannah Gadsby

November 2, 2005

On his birthday, Hotch walked his crying baby son, Jack down the stairs, trying to soothe him.

"Hey, what's that about? What's that all about? It's okay. It's okay. I'm a little grumpy when I wake up sometimes, too."

In the living room waited Hotch's wife, Haley Hotchner and her sister, Jessica Brookes, they pointed to a sign put up that said: Happy birthday, daddy, as if Jack had done it.

And they laughed.

"That's great, you guys." He looked down at his fussy son, "See what you did?" But he kept crying.

"Here." Hayley held out her hands

"I got him. Yeah, it's okay." Hotch said, bouncing a still fussy Jack. The phone in the kitchen started to ring. "Can you grab that?" Hotch asked Hayley who went to do so. "Thanks."

Jessica had her arms crossed and she criticized Hotch, "You're holding him like a cantaloupe."

"What? You think you can do better?" Hotch scoffed and Jessica held out her hands to take Jack. "Okay, smarty pants, knock yourself out." Hotch started to hand Jack to Jessica. "There we go. It's okay. It's for the..." Jack immediately stopped crying. Hotch wasn't amused. He glared at his sister-in-law and said, "All right, let's see you profile a disorganized psychopath."

"It's your life." Hayley said, handing the phone to Hotch.

Hotch brought the phone to his ear, "Yeah?"

"Hey, I know you're taking the weekend, but I wanted to let you know we got a call..."

When Hotch got off the phone, he went back to his family, Hayley sighed and said, "Go."

"It's just a briefing." He reassured her. "A couple of hours and I'll be back, okay?"

"It's okay. Go. They need you. It's all right. I'm not mad." Hayley told him, clearly disappointed as she cleared up the table and kissed his cheek. "Go."

Baby Jack fussed some more as Jessica looked at him with disapproval

"You heard her. She said it was all right." Hotch said.

"You're one hell of a profiler." Jessica scoffed.

"Oaxaca, Mexico," JJ siad and Zoe looked up, that was primairly the city where her maternal family was, that was where she and Zarah were kidnapped. "The victim is Lupe Trejo, sixty-two. She was found in her home stabbed in the face, chest and genitals. The papers down there connected her murder to eleven others in the past two years, all elderly women. They're saying it's the work of a serial killer."

"Mexican government disagrees." Gideon said.

"So if the government denies that this is a serial killer, why'd they call us?"

"And we were asked specifically." Alexander said, making a face.

"Why?" Zoe asked and looked up at her dad and then dropped her file on the table. "No. No. No. Don't make that face. That's your awkward interacting with family face. What are you doing?"

"It's affecting your mother's family's part of the city and they're insisting that it's the work of a serial killer."

"Dad!"

"It's your cousins."

"Which ones?"

"Eh, there's too many for me to name or count."

Zoe didn't look amused.

"They have a suspect in custody, the victim's son. We're the serial killer experts, they want us to go down there and confirm that this was just a onetime killing. Put the serial killer angle to bed."

"Except the Valdezes say that's... some curse word in Spanish and that it is a serial killer." Alexander added. "And they're stuborn."

"So, we're going all the way down there just to prove they don't have a serial killer?" Morgan asked.

"Maybe. Or we're going down there to tell them if what I've read in the Mexican papers is true, they've got one of the worst serial killers the country's ever seen."

"Let's go." Alexander said and hurried out of the room.

"Dad!" Zoe shouted, speed-walking after him

——————————————————————————————————————

Anthony Brandt wrote, "Other things may change us, but we start and end with family."

Hotch was clearly upset about something but didn’t speak and they knew if they asked, he wouldn’t answer them, honestly.

“Hey. At least you get to spend your birthday weekend in Mexico.” JJ said.

“Yeah, what’s ‘dog house’ in Spanish?” Hotch scoffed, sarcastically.

“La ca-sa del pair-o.” Spencer mispronounced.

“La casita del perro.” Elle and Zoe corrected in unison.

“That’s what I said.” Spencer said.

“Face it, chico. You’re only a genius in English. So, I don’t know how much help you’ll be on his mission, insoportable sabelotodo.”

“Did you just call me an ‘insufferable know-it-all’ in Spanish?”

“Yeah, I’m fluent in many languages. I’ve been fluent in Spanish as long as I have in English. Half my family’s hispanic.”

“The one’s we’re going to meet?”

"Uh, yeah. My aunt Ciara is the lead detective on the case. She was mom's little sister." Zoe said, on her phone.

"All right, so why are there so few serial killers in Mexico?" JJ asked.

"They probably have as many as we do, but they document almost none of them." Hotch said.

"Why is that?" JJ asked.

"It's the Chikatilo Syndrome." Gideon said.

"The what?"

"Andrei Chikatilo, he was one of the most prolific serial killers of the twentieth century. By the time they found him, he'd killed more than fifty people." Spencer explained.

"He was no more experienced than any average serial killer, but lived in the Soviet Ukraine. Soviets were convinced serial killers, uniquely American phenomenon." Gideon said and then immitated a Russian accent, "Inevitable result of decadent capitalism.

"So what's the cultural bias in Mexico?" JJ asked.

"Many Mexicans believe that serial killers are the result of the breakdown of the family, which gives rise to the kind of alienated loner who becomes a serial killer." Hotch said and Zoe huffed.

"It's a fact there are twelve times as many broken families in the US than in México." Spencer said, pronucing Mexico with the accent.

"Yeah, spend five minutes in town and you'll see how much they belive it." Zoe muttered.

"All right, so is it possible there are fewer serial killers in Mexican culture?" JJ asked.

"It is possible, but in my experience, evil is not a cultural phenomenon, it's a human one."

"Fuck!" Zoe groaned.

"What?"

"Maze just arrived in Oaxaca."

"Your mentor?"

"Slash-psycho cousin."

"What's she like exactly?"

"Uh, you know how I'm violent and dangeorus?"

"You're aware of that?"

"She's worse. She's like a semi-high-funtctioning psychopath. She makes me look sane." She said.

——————————————————————————————————————

Maze made herself known at once at the airport by stepping inside. Not only was she one of the most beaitful women in the airport but she was dressed in rather low cut clothing and carrying an odd knife and then shouted at the top of her lungs: "WHICH OF YOU MIDLIFE CRISES IS JASON GIDEON!?"

"Maze!" Zoe shouted.

"Hey, Zoe!" Maze greeted, warmly, giving her younger cousin a side hug before looking at the rest of the team, skeptically like she was trying to decide who to cut down.

"Where's Ciara!?" Zoe asked, loudly.

"ZOZO!" A voice squealed before she was attacked with a hug with a very, very bubbly woman with her dark hair held in a ponytail, she was dressed she bought her entire wardrobe at Comic-Con.

Morgan looked at the others, "What the fuck?"

"Uh, Detective Valdez..."

"Oh, there are so many Valdezes here, you might as well call my by my first name, Cirara, nice to meet you." Ciara hugged JJ like they were old friends.

"She's a hugger." Zoe deadpanned.

"We noticed."

"Uh, Ciara, I'd like to get a handle on the type of press this has been getting and meet some of your local police here." JJ said.

"Of course, but I imagine you would all like to settle into your rooms and rest before we go?" Ciara suggested.

"Nope. We're ready.

——————————————————————————————————————

Zoe and Maze arrived on their motorcycles before the others.

"What's all this?" Morgan asked when he, Spencer, and an officer, Lieutenant Borquez got out of their car.

"Dia de los meurtos." Zoe said.

"Day of the Dead. Three-day Latin holiday where souls of dead relatives are said to return to earth to enjoy the pleasures that they once knew of." Spencer said.

"He sounds like he was reading that out of a book." Borquez said.

"Trust me, he always sounds like that." Morgan said.

"Actually, I was reading. I picked this pamphlet up at the airport." Spencer said, holding said pamplet.

"You're a virgin, right?" Maze said, bluntly.

"Maze! You can't just ask my teammates that!" Zoe shouted.

"La Llorona!" A kid said loudly to his friends, pointing at Zoe and they ran off.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. Ignore them." Zoe said, truging on as a mother pulled her child away from Zoe as if she were a predator.

They joined the other group as they approached the crime scene, ""As profilers, I thought you'd want to see the crime scene first before meeting the suspects. Yes?"

"You read any Max Ryan or David Rossi's books?" Gideon asked.

"The men who helped raise my precious sobrina over there? Of course, but I actually got it from my older sister's binders of behavioral science." Ciara said. "The victim's name is Lupe Trejo, sixty-two. She was found in the bedroom by the daughter. No sign of forced entry."

"Are there always this many people around?" Hotch asked.

"No. Church just got out. They are walking home from the town square."

Some of the people were pointing at Zoe and Maze, some moving faster, trying not to look at them.

"What time was she killed?"

"I am guessing sometime during the evening mass. There wouldn't have been a lot of people around, otherwise he would have been seen." Ciara said.

"Unless he blended right in." Zoe suggested.

"There's the byproduct of my sister's brains!" Ciara cooed.

Zoe rolled her eyes. "Can we go now before a mob forms?" Zoe asked and then walked off. "Maze, come along!"

"So you're Zelena Valdez's sister? You seem a bit young." Morgan said.

"Zelena was my half-sister, we have different mothers, but I loved her even if she was a decade older than me." Ciara said, "And I love that girl in there. A lot of my family resent Zoe but she didn't ask for the mierda she's been given in life."

They entered the house, joining Zoe and Maze. "No forced entry means one of two things." Gideon said.

"A push-in. Holds a gun or a knife to her and forces his way inside." Morgan said.

"The murder weapon, the knife, was taken from the kitchen and placed at the scene." Ciara said.

"In that case, it's most likely that she let the killer in voluntarily. She looked through the peephole, saw someone she recognized. Someone who makes her feel safe." Hotch said.

"She lets him in and then what?" Gideon asked.

Spencer picked up a cup with a little brown liquid still left in it, "They have a drink?" He turned to Ciara, "Hey, have you run a DNA analysis on these?

"The closest thing we have to a crime scene unit is well, me and what I have is a older than Zoe." Ciara sighed.

"Find anything?" Spencer asked.

"The victim's prints were on one. The prints on the other were too smudged to make any match, but I don't think the killer drank this anyway." Ciara said.

"Why not?" Hotch asked.

Zoe brought the cup to her face and sniffed it. "Is this tamarind water?"

"Si."

"It's a common Mexican drink, comes from a plant. It's sweet and tart. You'll usually find women drinking this than men." Zoe said.

"I could see the victim offer this to a woman, but these are a time of festivities, and at night most men would have a shot of tequila, beer, maybe cigarettes." Ciara explained, "This looks like two women to me."

"And you don't think a woman could have done this?" Hotch asked.

"Do you?" Ciara asked.

"It's highly unlikely."

"Not impossible." Maze said and Zoe grabbed the knife she was spinning between her fingers.

"Give them to the FBI. At the very least it'll be able to tell us the gender of the drinkers." Alexander said.

"Where was she killed?" Gideon asked.

"This way." Ciara said and she walked to a bedroom with Gideon, Zoe, and Spencer.

It was an ordinary bedroom, indicated this woman was Christan based off the cross on the wall. Ordinary, except for the bedsheets soaked in blood.

Gideon looked through the drawers of the vanity.

"What are you looking for?" Ciara asked.

"Why? Why'd the UnSub choose this victim? Why did she feel safe enough to let the killer inside?" He found a picture of a man and showedd it to Ciara, "This her son?"

"That's Miguel." Ciara confirmed.

There were pictures of the rest of the family out in the open. "I'd say Lupe had a problem with him. She has family photographs everywhere, but not Miguel. He's tucked away in her drawer."

As they left the crime scene, Gideon told Ciara, "You are almost certainly looking for a heterosexual male."

"Yes, and you know that because..." Despite her enthusiasm, Ciara trailed off.

"Well, the victim was found on the bed. Multiple stabs wounds to the face, chest, and genital area. All indicators of sexual homicide. In cases of sexual homicide, the attacker targets objects of his or her sexual attraction." Gideon explained.

"Heterosexual men attack women." Hotch said.

"So, homosexual men attack men?" Ciara gathered.

"Did the daughter have any ideas about who might've done this?" Hotch asked.

"She didn't have any ideas about anything. When she found out that her brother was a suspect, she wanted to talk to him alone. I refused because I didn't want them to get their stories straight. Then she stopped talking completely." Ciara explained.

"So, what's she protecting?"

"We're ready to talk to the suspect." Hotch said.

"Of course, but first there's someone I would like you to meet." Ciara said.

Hotch and Gideon met the district attorney general while the rest of the team went to the police department.

"Nieta!" A voice called. A woman around her sixties came to Zoe, hugging her.

"Abuelita!" Zoe smiled, "Uh, team, this is my abuela, Elena Valdez."

"So, this is the team now. Your mother would be so proud of you."

"She'd be prouder if both her daughters were safe." Zoe said, cynically and walked off.

"Oh, Xiomara." Elena called after her granddaughter.

"Elena." Alexander greeted and hugged the mother of his deceased love.

"Oh, you get skinnier every day I see you."

——————————————————————————————————————

It turned out that Elena's... "housemate", Eva had been the one to bring this to the department's attention, the fact that it may be a serial killer. Eva was the same age but a bit feistier and spoke more Spanish than her.

Oddly enough, it seemed most of the officers were either family friends with the Valdezes or Valdezes themselves. Elena and Eva once worked there themselves.

Ciara returned with Hotch and Gideon and they got back to the case.

"Neighbors heard a loud fight the day of the murder between the victim, her son, daughter and brother-in-law."

"One big, happy family." Elle said, sarcastically.

"Well, the uncle had a solid alibi, but we could not find the son. Then we got a tip he had hired a coyote to take him over the border. We caught him before he crossed." Ciara said and she looked across the room to where a woman was being questioned by an officer. "That's Miguel's sister, Rosa. She's been here ever since she found out that her brother was arrested."

"Seems like she thinks he's innocent." Hotch said.

"The dutiful sister. This way." Ciara said.

She brought Hotch, Gideon, and Alexander to the prison cell with Miguel.

Zoe stared at the wall of pictures, it was of the deceased loved ones of the department. Since most of the department were Valdezes, it was mostly Valdezes on the wall. Arranged by the most recently deceased.

She stared at two pictures. One of her mother and the other of her sister. She slammed the picture of Zarah down.

"Are-are you okay?" Spencer's voice asked and she turned to see him looking at her.

"She's not dead." She said, sharply.

"Are you okay?" He asked again.

"No." She sighed. "I haven't been okay in a long, long time." She looked at him, "Percisely, seventeen miles from here, Zarah and I were kidnapped, four years ago and seconds before that happened... that was the last time I was ever remotely okay."

Then Zoe heard Ciara and Hotch yelling.

"You also knew that a gay man couldn't have committed this murder. That's why you asked us about the sexuality of the killer at the crime scene. You knew Miguel was innocent."

"You do not understand how things work here. If I had told the attorney general that this man is a homosexual and that is why he must be innocent, she would have laughed in my face.

"Why did you lie to us?"

"What the hell is going on here? Hotch, why are you yelling at my aunt?" Zoe demanded, coming in.

"I had to play along with the official line until I could trust that you would come to the same conclusion that I did." Ciara shouted at Hotch.

"So we're here to serve as pawns in your political game?" Hotch asked.

“There is a very bad man in my district, killing women, like my family, and I have known this for a very long time and so far no one will believe me or help me stop him. So, if I have to play politics to protect the women of the city then that is a very small price to pay, don't you agree?"

"Hotch, things are different here. Anyone who has a mental illness is thought of as loco. People suspected of not being heterosexual are shunned. I don't know if you've noticed but the locals don't like me. I'm not exactly mentally stable, I don't conform to their traditional gender norms or gender role of Marianismo, they gossip that I'm not strictly heterosexual because of that, and they blame me for killing my mom and my sister. Why do think this station is half Valdezes? That stuff doesn't matter where we're from but it's different here." Zoe shouted.

"Best way to bring the attorney general on board is by providing a complete profile." Gideon said, calmly.

"What do you need?" Ciara asked, fixing her hair.

"We'll need the files on all the murders."

"Of course, but I must warn you. These reports were taken by local police in the area who are not used to this type of killer. Most basic details are missing.

"Awesome." Zoe muttered and left.

——————————————————————————————————————

Later, they regrouped and Hotch announced, "We also need to get the whole story out of Miguel Trejo and right now he's not talking."

"But why does that matter?" Ciara asked. "Obviously, he's not a serial killer."

"Listen, obviously there's a great deal of anger in the family, and before we give a profile, we need to rule out the fact that this might be a crime of passion and not one of the serial killings." Hotch said.

"And why wouldn't Miguel talk if he's innocent?" Morgan asked.

"It must have something to do with the fact that he is a homosexual." Maze suggested.

"He'd rather be straight in jail than gay as a free man?" Morgan asked.

"What part things are different here, aren't you grasping?" Maze scoffed. She didn't like Morgan too much.

"Now I can see the resemblance." Morgan muttered.

"I can protect him in here, but if he's taken to a prison in Mexico City and the other inmates find out that he is gay, he will be killed." Ciara explained.

"So how do we get him to talk?" Spencer asked.

"Let me talk to the sister." Maze said.

"No!" Zoe and Ciara shouted.

——————————————————————————————————————

"Rosa, do you know the saying... El amor es ciego pero no las vecinas?" Ciara asked. Rosa shook her head. "We know there was a fight. We need to know what it was about."

"Rosa, we know about your brother." Zoe said, gently. "If you don't help us, he could go to prison and he could be killed there. You know this could be his last chance." Rosa was still heistant. "Look, I know you know who I am. Everyone does. But despite what everyone thinks, I would do anything to protect my sister, I didn't kill her and I tried my best to protect her. This is how you can protect Miguel by letting us do our best to prove that he's innocent."

"Miguel has a friend, Roberto. He was outside the house waiting for my brother, watching. He saw the fight with my mother." Rosa said.

"Did Miguel see him?"

"I don't think so."

"Why didn't you tell us about this before?" Elle asked.

"Because it would mean telling you that Miguel is..." She trailed off, "Like you said, if he goes to prison and they know this about him, they will kill him and I cannot risk that."

"But you're talking about the man who might have murdered your mother." Elle said.

"You do not understand how bad it is. You do not understand the shame." Her voice broke and something shifted in Zoe's eyes, the intensity. "You do not understand what people will do to us. I just lost my mother. I cannot lose Miguel. La familia es toda."

"I understand, Rosa. I understand a whole of a hell lot better than you think." Zoe said, softly.

"Family is everything."

——————————————————————————————————————

"She may have come clean about that day, but I still think she's hiding something." Elle said.

"The way she went on about shame, almost like she was talking about herself." Zoe said, spinning her spinner ring with her thumb. Maze stared at her with for the first time all day, sympathy.

"This is interesting. Before Miguel met Roberto, Roberto had a wife." Ciara said, placing a paper down, making Gideon put on his glasses to read it.

"Well, if he was bisexual..." Elle said and Maze gave her a look.

"It makes him capable of sexual homicide of a woman." Gideon finished.

"And if he blamed Miguel's mother for denying their relationship, that would give him motive." Ciara added.

——————————————————————————————————————

Zoe told them that she wouldn't have much luck talking to locals so she stayed in the station where still the non-Valdezes would look at her when they thought she didn't notice.

"What—what's going on with Zoe?" Spencer asked Elena.

"Xiomara doesn't rub well with the locals around here. Never did. She challenged them, scared them when she thought they were being rude. They blame her for my daughter's death but it wasn't her fault. But it got really bad four years ago, when while on a visit, the twins went out and we realized they were missing the next day. Eight months later, Xiomara was found, having broken into a police station, half-awake but Zarah... they accused her of killing her sister, even some family members did. They say Zarah should've been the one to come back. She agrees. And especially what happened in Europe."

"What happened in Europe?"

"She hasn't told you?"

"She doesn't tell us anything. We just found out she was Noble-Valdez two weeks ago."

"She's had a hard life and she finds it hard to trust, despite her willingness to help even someone most would say don't deserve it. Last year, she was kidnapped and tortured for six months, she was rescused just a few months before she transferred to the BAU."

"What?" Spencer gasped.

"Hey, Spence. Try this." Zoe said, appering beside him with a cup of what seemed to be coffee. "We call this Café de Olla. It's... what? What's that puppy dog look for?"

"You were kidnapped and tortured last year?" Spencer asked.

Zoe gave her grandmother a look and Elena walked off, giving her granddaughter a smile.

"It's not a big deal."

"It sounds like a big deal. What happened?"

"When Maze was with the FBI, she worked for the FBI's Fugitive Task Force, that was what I was training with her for . She... also worked with interpol on some things and had connections with terrorists, and so we worked with the Joint Terrorism Task Force to locate them but they caught on and kidnapped me. They took me and my ex-boyfriend, J.D. to a... prison but it was corrupt, it was more of a front for terroists and I took the brunt of the torture from the terrorists and professional torturers rather than J.D."

"Why?"

Zoe did an airy laugh/scoff but there was no mirth, "Trust me, it was better that I took it than him. It took Maze six months to find us and when she did... she snapped. She killed a lot of people that day. I saw it. They were bad people, though... but Maze kicked out of the FBI for her actions, they were deemed self-defense but excessive and two months later, I interviewed with the BAU. It's not why I transfered. Not exactly. But the aftermath that experience had was."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Spence, I've learned how to survive by now. Now, any other questions will cause me to walk the fuck out of this room. So, Café de Olla?"

Spencer looked at her for a few moments and nodded. "So, uh, what's in this?"

"Well, it can also be called Mexican spiced coffee, it's brewed in an earthen clay pot like this called an 'Olla'. It is made with Mexican ground coffee, cinnomon, and this raw dark sugar that resembles molasses in taste but no one's ever drowned in it, that we call 'pilocillo'. Sometimes there's more spices but not in this one. I wasn't sure if you'd like it. Café de Olla literally means 'coffee from a pot. My family has recipes that we teach the younger ones until they can make it from memory even if they don't drink coffee. You see unlike American coffee, the cinnomon and pilocillo isn't added after brewing but incorporated into the brewing technique. You can add more cinnomon, cloves, star anise, an orange peel, or whatever. It's very sweet and very black." Zoe explained as Zoe looked at her with just utter awe at what kind of person she was.

Morgan, Gideon, and Ciara came back soon after.

"I don't think he did it." Morgan told them, referring to Roberto, Miguel's boyfriend.

"Why not?" Spencer asked.

"The way he talked about Miguel. He didn't point the finger at his boyfriend and I think a guilty man would have." Morgan said.

"See if he has an alibi. Run his prints against any found at the scene. Right now though, I feel confident we can rule out a family fight as a motive for the murder." Gideon said.

"There's a call from the FBI." Borquez said and Zoe answered the call with a pencil.

"Yeah, Morgan."

"Como esta, my lovelies? Es bueno, no? Tripero, esta-la?" Garcia said in bad, broken Spanish.

Zoe face-palmed as Maze and Borquez didn't look amused.

"Easy there, Garcia. I think you just offended somebody’s mother." Morgan said.

"Shut up you. I took French. What can I say?"

"Penelope, your last name is Garcia."

"Yeah, I know. It’s my stepfather’s name. Do you want my genius or not?

"Yeah, but you said 'How are you, my lovelies? It's good, isn't it? Tripero, is she?'." Zoe said. "Tripero's not a word."

"Who's this bitch?" Maze asked, bluntly.

"Maze!" Zoe shouted, "This is Penelope Garcia. She's the technical analysist for the BAU."

"Isn't that the criminal?" Maze seemed offended on behalf of Zoe, not being the technical analyist.

"Maze!" Zoe shouted again. "Sorry, Garcia, ignore her. That's my crazy cousin, Maze."

"Okay." Garcia sounded a bit off now, "So, I rushed your cups full of mucus through all the regular channels at lightning speed and survey says one female drinker and one male."

"Thanks, doll." Morgan said and hung up before Maze could offend Garcia again.

"It's strange, on this occasion a man taking that drink." Ciara said.

"Unless the victim thought he was a woman." Spencer speculated. "The woman Roberto described, a social worker. That's a common ruse for old-lady killers. What if she is really a he in women's clothing? He comes to the door, knocks on it..."

"And the victim feels comfortable because she thinks it's a woman." Zoe finished.

"It would explain why no witnesses have come forward." Ciara said.

"No one expects the killer to be a woman." Maze said.

"Not in this country."

"Or ours." Zoe said.

"We need to tell the locals." Morgan said.

"And give them the rest of the profile." Gideon added.

——————————————————————————————————————

After they gave the profile, they were informed of another body and then Borquez and the other police officers had gotten frustrated and rounded a bunch of transvestites and then got scolded by Ciara and screamed at and threatened by Maze. And finally, the started to explain why they were looking for a rapist instead of a killer.

"Because we know this man commits sexual homicide, we can also assume that he was once a rapist."

"It's a lot easier to track a rapist than a killer because you have witnesses." Spencer said.

"Not here, most rapes here aren't even reported." Ciara said. Maze's eyes flittered to Zoe who showed no indictation that this had affected her.

"That's why we're doing a press confernece to inform these women that the man who raped them is now killing people to encourage to come forward." JJ said.

"But you also have the chance to discover something else—the reason he began killing." Elle said.

"Which is the stressor." Morgan added.

"As far as we can tell, the first killing was about one year ago." Elle said, pointing to the first murder victim: Elena Gutiérrez. "What happened to the suspect during that time?"

"A typical stressor—loss of a job, loss of love. He may have been released from prison." Morgan listed, "Whatever it was, it made him feel impotent. It made him feel frustrated and very angry."

"And that's when he started killing." Elle said.

"You should be talking to victims who reported rapes just before that first murder last year."

"Hopefully, the press conference will help bring some of these women forward, but we also need to head out and talk to some of these people directly." JJ said. "You should use all the female police you have. It will help put potential victims at ease."

——————————————————————————————————————

Elle and Borquez spoke to a woman named Milagros Villanueva who said she had nearly been raped by a man but she had fought back, scratching him and making him bleed and when she realized he had been wearing a dress, she had laughed at him and called him a pathetic woman and he had run away.

"She claimed it happened last year in August."

"The first murder happened in September." Spencer recalled.

"So she could have been the last one who was raped before whatever stressor made him kill.

"Or she could have been the stressor." Maze said, "never mess with a pissed off Latina."

"You say this woman laughed in his face, hit him, called him a woman. That could have been enough to make him impotent." Gideon suggested.

"He tries to rape again and all he can hear is this woman laughing." Hotch said.

"Maybe he thought he could rape older women. Thought they'd be easier. Wouldn't put up a fight, so he tries." Morgan said. Zoe noticed Borquez bringing in a lot of women.

"But he can't. He gets frustrated, he kills her," Elle said, "and then he finds the release that he was looking for."

"So he kills again."

"Uh, guys." Zoe spoke up, pointing behind them.

"The other victims are here."

"Send them in." Gideon said.

The woman who must be Milagros stepped up, "You wanted us to come forward? Here are six more women who were raped by this man. Now prove to us it will finally do some good."

"How did you find all these women, Milagros?" Borquez asked.

"We may not talk to the police, but we talk to each other." She said.

"Well, now you must tell us your stories. Every detail. Because the cycle does not end until this man is stopped."

——————————————————————————————————————

They all spoke to the women before they regroup to compare stories

"They all have the same story. He goes up to them in the street, puts a knife against their back, blindfolds them, and takes them out to the desert." Zoe said.

"He also kissed their neck while raping them." Spencer added.

"And then when he's finished he asks, 'How did I do?'" JJ said.

"Classic power-reassurance behavior." Gideon said.

"What does that mean?" Ciara asked.

"Power-reassurance rapists lack confidence. They can't develop normal relationships with women." Elle explained.

"Passive and non-athletic." Hotch said.

"He most likely fantasizes that the victims are his girlfriends and of the different types of rapists, he's the most likely to be dissuaded if the victim screams or struggles in any way."

"Is that it? All the characteristics of the power-assurance rapist?" Gideon asked.

"Uh, there's actually one more..."

"Excuse me." Borquez said, coming up to them, "I've been going over the forms filled out by the women. Four of them work in the same factory."

"He most likely lives or works near the victim." Spencer finished.

——————————————————————————————————————

Zoe had to stay behind given how she scared the locals but they called her with the name and address of Pabalo Vargas.

Zoe rode over on her motorcycle over and met them there. Zoe knocked on the door and spoke in Spanish, "¿Hola? ¿Alguien en casa?" No answer. So she knocked again, ""Hola?" She moved towards the window where she could hear chatter on a TV, so she spoke into the mic, "No body's answering but there's a TV on."

"Ready."

Zoe gave permission for the police to kick down the door and they entered. Zoe with her gun drawn, moved towards the sound of the TV and gently opened the door with her foot. She saw someone sitting in a chair, facing the TV.

"Hola?" No answer. "Hola? ¿Estás bien? ¿Puedes oírme?" She touched the chair and moved it around to reveal that the woman in the chair had been dead for a long time, she was completely a skeleton. Presumably Pablo's mother, the source of his rage. Zoe holstered her gun and called, "Hotch!"

Hotch entered the room, seeing what she was seeing,

"A little late." He remarked as Zoe got closer and examined the necklaces. "Souvenirs for his mother?"

"Isn't this Anna's necklace?" She asked.

"Zoe, look at this." Hotch said.

"No, I saw it. I don't need to see it again." Zoe sighed, shaking her head but determinedly not looking in that direction of the room. "Pictures of his rape victims."

——————————————————————————————————————

They sat back in the station, Zoe was writing on a chalkboard.

"We have a name, but how do you find him?" Ciara asked.

"We always ask, why this victim? Why the next victim? Serial killers plan their killings, and if we can figure out how he targets his victims we can get ahead of him."

Maze looked at Zoe, she recognized that glint in her eyes. "Zoe, what are you doing?"

Zoe turned the chalkboard around, "I put down all the names of the women who came in."

"That's what you call this chicken scratch?" Maze asked, sarcastically.

"Would you shut up and read? Does anyone else see what I see?" Zoe asked.

"That name, Torres. There was a murder victim with that name." Ciara recalled.

"Yeah." Zoe said.

"There are hundreds of Torreses in this town." Borquez said.

"Let me see the statements." Ciara said.

"What is it?" Morgan asked.

"It's maiden names." Maze realized.

"The murder victims and the rape victims." Hotch said as Ciara circled the maiden names of the rape victims. Torres. Gomez. Cortez. "The names are the same."Reyes.

"He's killing the mothers of the women he raped." Gideon said.

"He's doing it in the same order." Spencer noticed. "The daughters of the last two murder victims, Trejo and Santiago, never came forward. If we can assume they were raped, then according to the board the next rape victim in line was..."

"Milagros Villanueva." Zoe said. "His last."

"He's going to kill her mother." Morgan said.

——————————————————————————————————————

By the time, they got to Milagros' house, it was dark. They kicked in the door, some furniture was knocked over and there was blood, specifically in a trail, leading outside. She followed it and found a body on the ground. At first glance, they looked like a woman but that didn't explain one thing...

"I've got a body over here!" She shouted, calling all of them over to her, the body started to cough they were still alive. Zoe rolled them over and the wig fell off. It was Pablo, he was bleeding profusely from the mouth, gagging on his own blood. He had been beaten and stabbed... and castrated.

"Pueden salir, chicas. Come on out." She called without looking over and the leaves in the nearby trees became to rustle.

All the women he had raped and Milagros' mother, Nina came out, Milagros was holding a kitchen knife and one of them was holding a peice of wood, several others had other weapons that had used to beat and stab Pablo.

"He pretended to be a woman. Now he doesn't have to pretend." Milagros said.

Zoe looked down at Pablo, flashes of blood appeared behind her eyes and shook her head and looked up.

——————————————————————————————————————

The District Attorney General, María Sánchez was speaking to the women before coming back to them.

"Will they be charged?" Ciara asked, worriedly.

"Charged? Why?" She asked, "They were only defending their homes."

"La casa no se reclina sobre la tierra, sino sobre una mujer." Ciara said.

"Exactly." She agreed.

"Good job, Agent Gideon." She said and her eyes landed on Zoe before quickly darting away from her and she turned her head to speak to the men with her, "Vamos." And then they walked off.

When they walked outside, Hotch asked Ciara, "What did you say in there?"

"It's just an old Mexican proverb." Ciara said.

"La casa no se reclina sobre la tierra, sino sobre una mujer." Zoe repeated, "'The house does not rest upon the ground but upon a woman."

Elena Valdez face claim is Maria Canals-Barrera, I was stuck between her and Salma Hayek and then I thought maybe they could be a couple in secret.

Eva De La Rosa is played by Salma Hayek

Origianlly, Maze had a son but I think I'll introduce him later, like she's pregnant with him now so he can have face claim of Lesley-Ann Brandt's actual son who is only seven now.

El amor es ciego pero no las vecinas. — Spanish — “Love is blind but not the neighbors.”

——————————————————————————————————————

Translations:

La familia es toda — Spanish — The family is all

¿Hola? ¿Alguien en casa? — Spanish — Hello? Anybody home?

¿Estás bien? — Spanish — Are you all right?

¿Puedes oírme? — Spanish — Can you hear me?

Pueden salir, chicas. — Spanish — You can come on out, girls

——————————————————————————————————————

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90skiyoomi · 2 years ago

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reckless pt. 3 - the wedding

fiancé!sakusa or soon to be husband!sakusa x f!reader

after a year, sakusa and you decided to hold your wedding (since it's off season and there isn't any overseas matches). what happens at the wedding and what kind of drama would happen?

a/n: i'm currently sick so there wouldn't be any proofreading. also i've never been to a wedding before so i have no idea how it actually works so i had to google a lot of things but i hope it still makes sense! anyways, this would be the last part for the reckless series. i never thought i would write more than 1 chapter but here we are, 3 chapters later and we're done!

<previous> navigation

it's finally the day. you and sakusa have been planning this wedding for so long.

it was off-season period and sakusa didn't have as many matches. you finally found a day where you can hold the wedding.

it took a few wedding drafts and many cake tasting before getting to this point. it was finally the day.

you were in the dressing room while your make up artist puts on your make up and the hairdresser does your hair.

you looked at the mirror and took a glance at the beautiful dress that was hanging that sakusa picked and tailored for you. you can't help but to smile.

after that day that you saw your ex boyfriend and bestfriend, your ex boyfriend tried to call and text you with an unknown number, trying to get your attention and begging for forgiveness. sakusa thought it was funny to send him a photo of the both of you wearing your rings and blocked him after.

not gonna lie, you're feeling pretty nervous. you started overthinking about what might happen or what if sakusa leaves you at the alter. you decided to shrug it off because it's sakusa that we're talking about.

your relationship has been nothing but a dream. he was the most patient person you've ever met. he loves you with all his being and you love him too. you just thought how lucky it was for you to land a guy like this.

fast forward to 15 minutes before the wedding, komori came in to check on you and ask about how you're feeling (sakusa TOTALLY didn't ask him to do it). you guys chatted for abit before he left.

you started preparing to walk to the venue as the ceremony is about to start.

you could see sakusa standing at the podium at the end of the aisle, looking at you in awe as the wedding music started playing out of the speaker. you walked slowly towards him, smiling and thinking that it's finally happening.

when you're up at the podium, the wedding officiant started to ask the both of you to say your vows.

"y/n, it has been a long journey with you so far. i feel like years with you feels like minutes. i remember the first time we met when we were kids and how it was love at first sight. no one has ever made me feel so comfortable, sorry komori, you're second in this. but i want to spend the rest of our lives with you and i hope there is an afterlife so i can spend those times with you too. i love you so much and i'm so happy that i'm able to call my bestfriend my wife."

"sakusa, i honestly don't know how to top your vows because that was so sweet and i wish there is an afterlife too so even death can't do us part. you have been my bestfriend for all my life, minus those years where you moved away, what a dick move. but you have always been the one for me ever since we met in university again. being together with you has been a dream and you are the best person i've ever met and i can't wait to be your wife for the rest of my living life and anything after. i love you so much sakusa"

there were tears of joy from the guests and the both of you.

"now that the bride and groom has exchanged their vows, if there's anyone that isn't in favor of this marriage, speak up now or forever hold your silence."

when the wedding officiant was about to ask you both to exchange your rings, someone in the guest seating area stood up.

"i object!"

you turned around to look at who said that and you see your ex boyfriend.

who the hell invited him and who let him in?

you were at the brink of tears when sakusa called his security.

"escort that man out. he wasn't invited and he shouldn't even be here"

you could see that he was fuming.

"i'm so sorry to everyone for the disturbance. this was really unexpected as we're supposed to have a high level security in the venue. if there's no one else that objects this wedding, is it okay if we proceed accordingly?" he said, turning to look at the wedding officiant.

"it seems like that was just a minor inconvenience so yes, we may proceed. do you, y/n l/n, take sakusa kiyoomi as your lawfully wedded husband?"

you nodded and said yes.

"and do you, sakusa kiyoomi, take y/n l/n, as your lawfully wedded wife?"

"i do"

"i now pronounce you, husband and wife! you may now kiss your bride"

later at the reception, you found out that your ex has bribed one of your acquaintance that you invited and ask her to bring him as a plus one.

needless to say, you kicked that acquaintance out of the wedding after party and cut all contacts with her after that day.

it has been 4 years since the wedding. as you thought about that day, it felt so nerve wrecking. but at the end of the day, it was all worth it.

as you continue to daydream and reminisce, you slowly drifted to sleep in the arms of your now-husband, sakusa kiyoomi, the most perfect man alive.

#haikyuu hcs #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu au #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu sfw #haikyuu hurt/comfort #sakusa comfort #sakusa drabble #sakusa fic #sakusa fluff #sakusa headcanons #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa x y/n #sakusa x you

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iwishicanbeagoodpianist · 3 years ago

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the Wifilcon and the Winter Router

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC/Reader Summary: When Bucky learns that his neighbor has been stealing his wifi for months. Warnings: None A/N: I'm not a fanfic writer at all, this, like all my stories, are adaptations to fanfics. My original stories are not written in english, so this is also a translation. please do not repost my work

For an instant, Bucky thought that the knocking he was hearing was coming directly from his head, I mean, it wouldn't be the first time his mind played tricks on him, but he realized that the sound was actually coming, unluckily for him, from his apartment door. Oh no no no no no no no, I just got back from putting up with Sam for almost 6 full weeks, I don't need interaction with more people for now.

Bucky thought for a minute to ignore the sound, to wait for the person to give up and leave, anyway he didn't spend many days on this apartment, almost no one had seen him leave or enter the building and he had no contact with the neighbors, only with the lady on the 7th floor who once lost one of her cats, which ended up in Bucky's apartment, accidentally. Not that I found the cat in the alley and actually brought him to my apartment, it doesn't mean that I stole the cat, he was in the street by himself, I rescued him.

When the banging on the door stopped and Bucky thought he could breathe calmly again, a voice between altered and annoyed was heard all the way to the living room where he was sitting trying to overcome his third panic attack and fourth existential crisis of the day .

-"I know you're in there! I saw you coming in a few hours ago! I've been waiting for days for you to come back!"-

More out of instinct than anything else, Bucky pulled out the knife hidden in his right boot as he slowly backed away from the door. Do I really have a spy as a neighbor? Should I call Sam? Is he in danger too? Never mind now, you need an escape route Bucky, concentrate, third floor, window to the alley, 2 minutes max, the bike is parked far away, I'll have to run, but to where, rendezvous point, safe place, think....

- "for God's sake, open the door, I need you to pay for your fucking internet plan, I'm in the last season of my series and I need to know if Carolina died or not!"-

- "The internet?"- Between the andrenaline from escaping and the shock of not understanding what was happening Bucky spoke louder than an assassin, with over 60 years of experience, should have spoken. Oh, shoot.

-"Yes! Your wifi, I need it to finish watching my series"-

Whispering "wifi" to himself, Bucky tries to remember where he has heard that word before, this is what I get for never listening to Sam when he talks to me. But before he can continue his mental analysis of all the conversations with Sam about such stupid things as his favorite American Football team, the New Orleans Saints, that I remember, to how Antonio could possibly leave María on the last episode of the 6 o'clock telenovela of which Sam is a fan, his apparent "neighbor" spoke up again:

-"Jesus Christ, can you open the door? So we can resolve this like adults"-

Bucky resigned to the fact that he has given his position to the "enemy", walks to the door and opens it waiting for his death. Well at least if I die I won't have to listen to Sam again talking about Antonio and María. But on the other side of the door, there was a woman, who in her pajamas, very unthreatening but cute, was watching him as if he were a ghost but still with defiance in her eyes, in one breath she introduced herself and continued her speech about her complaint to Bucky:

-"As I was saying, I need you to pay for your internet"-

-"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure I understand what you mean"- mumbled Bucky.

- "Good Lord"- To Bucky's surprise his neighbor, pushes him and enters his home, well not so much a home home, more like the headquarters of his secret club, of which he is the president, vice president and only member, the point is that it is his place, where he can (and wants to be alone), as she lives here. This must be a dream, maybe I hit my head too hard in the last mission and I am unconscious in the hospital.

Crossing the room, Bucky's unwanted visitor looks around searching for something while whispering the words "I see you are quite minimalist, but maybe this is too much, someone urgently needs to look for some inspiration on Pinterest". She stops abruptly in front of the shelf where, in theory, a TV should go, while shouting: "EUREKA", she bends down and picks up a white device which has two antennas and like a million little blinking lights, damn, that looks like something out of a spaceship, I'm being watched by aliens? I'm being spied on by Kree?

-"This is your router, this is where the internet signal comes from, which I need you to pay for so I can finish watching my series"-.

Bucky, still in shock for the third time in less than 15 minutes, as he processes the idea that perhaps Thanos' unknowing twin is spying on him for a second invasion of earth and revenge for his brother's death. He can only nod to his now more relaxed and happy neighbor.

-"Perfect, thanks! I need to check the food I left in the oven, I'll talk to you later"- and as quickly as she came she left through the same door, leaving Bucky with more doubts than answers, peeking down the hallway, he realizes that she is the neighbor who lives next door, to his right. When Bucky comes out of his initial stupor, still not fully understanding what is going on, he decides to take his cell phone out of his pocket and call his own personal Google to solve his doubts about this century: Sam Wilson.

-"Hey Buck! What's up?"-how does he always manage to sound so happy? focus Buck.

-"What the hell is a router and why do I have one in my house?"- somehow Bucky manages to formulate, although maybe his voice cracked a little on the last words.

-"That thing's been there for at least two months and you didn't even notice it? Have you even paid the bill?"-

-"You put this in here? Without telling me????"- maybe Sam is also a Kree? Who can I trust now? It's all a trap?

Listening to Bucky's accelerated breathing, Sam tries to explain to him slowly, that in this century life without internet is not life, but obviously as Bucky does not even know how to set the alarm on his own cell phone, he was in charge of buying the router and creating the contract with the company so that, the 106 year old man could have his personal network at home. He had given it the name but he had not given it a password so that Bucky himself could set it up later. "I am an excellent friend, I mean co-worker, if I may say so"

-"Sorry man, after all that happened, we got called for a mission and I forgot to tell you, do you have your laptop over there? I'll help you set up a password, so your neighbors won't steal your internet anymore"- and with that comment everything started to make sense in Bucky's slightly screwed up but functional mind about the events with his seemingly non-spy and harmless neighbor.

Meanwhile Bucky was trying to remember his own password to unlock the laptop in front of him, also courtesy of Sam. "Bucky, when you learn about online banking and that you can pay your rent, electricity, phone and everything with a click of your computer, you will thank me". It should be noted that Bucky hasn't used that laptop once, like a good 100 year old grandpa he goes to the bank to make his deposits and pay his debts, which obviously consisted only of electricity, water, gas and phone because the man had no idea that there was a device in his house that spit out internet, apparently only his next door neighbor knew this. Buck tells Sam how he thought his router was an alien device and how he thought his neighbor was a KGB agent coming to kill him. "Relax Buck we all have undesirable neighbors that steal our internet signal sometimes", well undesirable is not the word I would use to describe her but ok.

When Sam finally explains to him how to connect his computer to the internet, Bucky can finally see the name that his wonderful co-worker, not friend, because he could never be friends with someone so stupid as to think that the name "THE WIFILCON AND THE WINTER ROUTER" was a good name.

- "my god Sam, you're such an asshole!"-

-"HEY! That's a great name!"- Sam responds with as much indignation as possible, he's the best at naming everything from dogs to wifis.

- "I can't believe you're Captain America, I can't believe we're even friends"- Bucky really can't understand his luck to have friends, well, co-workers whatever.

- "Well excuse me but we're co-workers..."-

- "Well, take this call as my formal resignation, bye"-

-"Wait a minute Buck..."- Bucky ended the call, to finish -his self-imposed- punishment of listening to Sam Wilson talk for over an hour. At least I asked him how to use the bank's website to pay for the internet. Suddenly, without warning and without explanation, the memory of his neighbor is lodged in his head, her hair in a ponytail, her reading glasses, pink shorts, her sweater from some university of which he can't even remember the name because he was watching out for other things... that she wouldn't kill me obviously, he was watching out that she wouldn't pull a knife out of her back and kill me right there. The message on his laptop indicating that he can now set a new name and password to his wifi distracts him enough to stop thinking about his sweet and cute non-spy neighbor and how she would look with her hair down and her glasses off.

Still with the sweet feeling in his chest and the desire to see her again he writes as the new name of the wifi, while laughing:

"If you want free internet, you owe me at least one free dinner"

After paying the internet debt and closing the laptop, Bucky gets up hoping to find something edible in the kitchen, while leaning over to look inside his fridge and analyzing how bad it would be to eat a fried egg with pasta and sriracha, he hears again a knock on the door, but this time it does not cause Bucky the anguish and anxiety that caused him the first time, but quite the opposite.

-"Open the door Winter Router! I prepared chicken pot pie for dinner"-.

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my-robot-heart · 3 years ago

Note

Hey!! Desperate here, sorry for being so abrupt LOL

I’ll tell my story on how I ended up here, asking a question, but OH MAN, I’ve been a fan of Spader for a while, long while, easy explanation would be his voice to begin with.. but today I decided to finally rewatch The Blacklist again because why not, I’ve watched some episodes in the past but randomly, not knowing a thing about the plot. So today I decided to start from the Pilot, watched some episodes and I immediately got involved, but something I also noticed was the… you could say sexual tension going on with the protagonists, I was sitting on the edge (english isn’t my main language, but I’m 99% sure that’s the expression) feeling so many emotions watching Red and Lizzie, I was going insane like “WHEN ARE THEY KISSING?!!!” so I couldn’t wait and went to google thinking I’d end up spoiling myself on their romance… when I found out there was nothing but confusing headlines about the latest season or something about their real relationship I was so confused I was like “No?! this says nothing at all about them!!” and after googling for a while I came across Tumblr and a tag with their ship name. I was so happy, logged quickly into Tumblr again, spent the last few hours watching gifs and reading what you guys had to say about them and oh… it shattered me in a good and bad way, learned about their ending, and how messy the whole idea of the characters together was because of the producers… I had faith, but instead of leaving disappointed I was craving more and more of this sexy relationship that for SURE was about to be love for me, so I ended up reading some fics and wow… they wasted a whole story of love in here… ISTG the second I started the show I was like “Oh he’s going to manipulate her to fall in love with him and it will be steamy! that has to be the whole plot” and no one can tell me they weren’t into each other… MEANT for each other… this will forever be my newest and craziest ship I lost in the way… but I already know it has a BIG space on my heart.

So my question would be; how would you explain and name their relationship? could you tell me is it worth it to suffer and watch them not kiss for many many seasons? was there ever a chance for romance in their dialogues or the staring once? (such as this scene I think I saw of Red doing that typical sexy Spader face when Lizzie went blonde) or them holding hands?

What even happened? why did they ruin the chances of them being a couple? it was there the whole time! I really wanna learn the thoughts on them from this community and about their best moments and how you know that for sure there was a spark in their scenes that implied what we wanted, and that implied their love which is… clearly not father daughter ??? I also wanna know about those theories but I don’t get anything!! I just wanted them to end together… but now that I know I don’t think I can go through all the seasons and suffer but I can just watch the gifs of them dancing :) but thanks for reading this and if you answer giving me your time :) I swear I feel like a MESS because of them and I only learned about them today, earlier…. save me cs I’m suffering but in love with 2 characters so badly…

Lizzington forever! ❤️❤️ thanks for all your posts I spent hours looking at and enjoying while suffering haha have a nice week :)))

Omgggg I'm so sorry you sweet innocent anon 💀💀💀💀 I was you about five years ago when I got into this fandom for real and started writing Lizzington fics, however at that point the worst we had to worry about was considerably less than it is now.

Ummmmmm I literally don't know what to tell you 🙃 but I'm honoured you reached out and happy you got so much enjoyment from the great fics out there (would love to hear what some of your faves were!)

So I should say firstly that I watched only til the end of the previous season (8) and literally know nothing about the show for s9 other then my weekly spoilers from @thetwistedargent about Ressler's butt (loll).

Anyway, what DID happen, anon? What happened to Red and Lizzie's chemistry and relationship? I guess the writers decided to fuck with us all, for lack of a better explanation. I'm still sore and bitter about the weird way the show turned into something super different than what it started as.

As far as the show goes, I think Lizzington shippers in general agree that it's worth watching at least seasons 1 through 3. The second half of S3 is where the Lizzington content takes a steep curve downwards, but there's still some sweet episodes in later seasons (Greyson Blaise is popular). If you watch the show til then, and then move to reading fanfic, you can preserve some of that excitement and pure enthusiasm in your heart.

Post season four, what can I say? It is a different and not great show. Post season 7 in my opinion; not even worth your time. But you'll know what feels best, and if you do keep watching til s8 you're welcome to stop by here and let us know what you think.

There's still a pretty engaged fandom here that is refusing to acknowledge anything past s8 lol, so we'll be here if you need us.

Is it worth it to suffer and not see them kiss? I guess it's a personal call. For me, the underlying sexual tension WAS there, and I kind of filled in the blanks with the fics I wrote over the years.

If your heart breaks in the end, was it worth it? Only you will know 💛

Thanks for this heartfelt ask, and I hope you enjoy whatever you do choose to consume xo

#ask #anon #lizzington #long ask and long reply #tbl spoilers? not really

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russian-romanova · 4 years ago

Text

the one that got away

title: the one that got away

pairing: joe goldberg

warnings: adult language, spoilers for season two of ‘you’, very brief mentions of violence

notes: joe’s pov. i haven’t gotten anything out there in a while, so here’s this.

summary: it’s been years since you ran out on your high school boyfriend joe goldberg. now that he’s seen you again, maybe it’s time to find out if your instincts were right.

+ + +

There was a part of me that had forgotten about you. I would go months without thinking about you, but then the strangest things would conjure up an image of you or your name would ring in my ears for a moment or two before passing out again. So don’t make the mistake of thinking I forgot about you, Y/N. I never forgot. Not really.

We dated in high school, which doesn’t mean much at face value. High School relationships are the ones that are the most fragile when boys can’t control their own body parts and girls don’t seem to know the word ‘boundary’. The teen couples that come into Mooney’s are the worst relationships, where they hold hands and kiss every time they turn a corner. It takes all I have not to turn them away.

But we were… different. We were good, and we took it slow. I was quiet and you were sweet, and God, I don’t think I could ever recreate that high I would get when I walked into school and would see you waiting at my locker, reading some book I had given you or eating some breakfast dessert. We didn’t rush anything, we were slow and steady friends more than anything, at least before we kissed. And when we did kiss, it wasn’t bumbling or awkward like teenage kisses should be. It was perfect, Y/N. Like it was meant to be.

You know why I’m bringing this up. I saw you at some supermarket the other day, in LA. It wasn’t Anavrin or any of those frighteningly strict healthy eating markets. It was just some supermarket I went to in search of some food I had been thinking about, and I saw you in the cereal aisle. You didn’t see me, Y/N, although I wasn’t sure if you would have even recognized me. You had a box of ‘Cinnamon Toast Crunch’ in one hand and a box of whatever the generic brand was in the other. I watched you for a moment, turn the first box over, then the second, before sighing and adding the generic one to your cart. I turned my body so you couldn’t see my face as I waited, only turning once I was sure you had left the aisle the opposite way of me.

Trust me, Y/N, I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. I had to double-take to even think it was you, and then I ended up staring at you for a full five seconds before I remembered where I even was. A supermarket. In LA.

Really, the strangest part was that I had been in LA for around a month and hadn’t somehow caught wind of you. Sure, LA’s a big city, perfect for disappearing -- I should know -- but I have a sixth sense for these sorts of things. It helps that I’ve been trying to stay away from you, really, I stopped searching your name on the internet long ago and I’ve been trying to push you out of my mind.

Still -- I see in you in all of their eyes. Candace. Beck. Love.

Then you pushed your cart away from me and left behind the corner. I trailed behind you for a while, because how are you supposed to see your high school sweetheart and just forget about it? You picked out black beans and condiments, grabbed crackers and milk. Then you were gone.

But I knew you were in LA, and that got me through a while. I was distracted at work, distracted with Love. Even Ellie knew something was off, and of course, I couldn’t tell any of them about you, Y/N. I made up some lie about work or the news, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I wondered if you shopped every Tuesday afternoon if I would have a chance of seeing you again if I waited there next week. If you saw me first, would you interact? Would you know what I was doing and confront me or would you leave and hope that I didn’t see you? Would you see me at all?

No, I knew that I had to find you before then, preferably someplace where I wouldn’t look like some random creep approaching a pretty girl. I had to do my research.

I didn’t know whether to be impressed or disappointed when I discovered both an Instagram and a Facebook account that were both private. You were aware of security, at least a little. You had a public twitter account, but nothing you posted on there really pertained to you on a personal level, mostly retweets about characters or politics.

Roughly three weeks ago, you had retweeted some comedic tweet about the benefits of being single. This was a good sign, Y/N. My expectations were set low, but the more I learned about you, the higher they became. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about our high school years, and how happy we both were. We could be like that again.

I was about to give up on the social media scour when I saw an Instagram account linked to your twitter account, completely different from the one I had already stumbled upon. This one was a much vaguer account, with some photos you must have taken, mostly of other people or of aesthetically pleasing nature views or buildings. The photographs that caught my eye the most -- and I’m sure you understand why, Y/N -- were the ones of Farmington Park and the one of a house front. The house numbers were blurred out, but it wasn’t that hard to trace around on Google Earth. I extended the view and followed the roads surrounding Farmington Park, making the assumption that you were near to it judging by the amount of photots you had posted of it, until I found the house that seemed the most familiar, the one that matched up perectly with the photograph. Bingo.

You should be more careful, Y/N.

✾ ✾ ✾

And so I wait. I see you again, but no longer by accident. I don my jacket and cap, and I wait at the bench near your house -- just a man reading a book, nothing anyone will pay too much attention to. I see you leave your house, which I’m relieved to see you walk out of. I’ve been wrong in the past, and it’s the worst possible feeling I could imagine. But you looked right at me, Y/N. The second day, you walked out of your bright red door and made direct eye contact with me. I have sunglasses on, so I don’t know if you can tell I’m looking back, but you stare at me for a few seconds, and then you move on. I worried you had maybe seen me, but the next day I returned and you didn’t think much of it.

Tuesdays and Thursdays is when you went to the park. As the sunsets, to get those stereotypical sunset photos, I presume, and you stay until late on Tuesday nights because you have Wednesdays off. It’s abandoned by the time it’s nine pm, the perk of small parks in big cities. So I waited until I was ready, until I thought you would be ready, and then I decided it was time to meet you.

8:42 on a Tuesday night, and I’ve never been more terrified before. I sit in the grass and watch you as the people slowly go home, watching you on your phone and messing with your camera. I notice for the first time, the green bracelet on your arm, which I recognize instantly, because I gave you that bracelet, Y/N. In high school, for your birthday. I gave it to you years ago, and you still wear it.

That almost gives me hope.

I had a plan. Once it was empty enough, I took off my hat and sunglasses, and I just sat there. You needed to come to me, to feel comfortable enough to do so. It was going to be an accident that I was here, nothing creepy. Nothing to feed your worries or stresses. I wasn’t a worry, I was a comfort that was reappearing after years and years.

When you saw me, your froze. You just stood there, unmoving and possibly unbreathing, frozen in a moment either now or in the past, mind racing and heart too fast. I waited for you, patiently. It was hard to not run up to you, to talk to you unprompted. But I had waited this long, I could wait a few minutes more.

Finally, you spoke. “What are you doing here?”

I looked up, feigning surprise. “Oh my God, Y/N,” I closed my book and stood up, smiling as if I had no idea you still existed. “What are you doing in LA?”

“Cut the bullshit. I saw you the other day. At least, I thought I saw someone that looked just like you, and now I’m pretty fucking sure that was you, Joe. This can’t be happening. This isn’t-” You trailed off, mumbling to yourself. Your were suspitious, but I could work with suspicious.

“You saw me? Seriously? Where was it?” I laugh as if I’m more confused than you are, still confused and surprised. Keep it up, Joe. Patience. “Why didn’t you-”

“Stop it. You were-” You stopped talking, your eyes widening a little at the absurdity of the situation. “You looked at me, Joe. I know you’re lying, so cut the bullshit. Be honest.”

I think it over for a minute. “I didn’t know if it was actually you or not.” I say, a little bit quieter. I feel like a kid again, and we haven’t even been talking for a minute.

“Honest,” You repeated. “I’m not new to your games, Joe. Where did you see me first?”

“The bus stop,” I say, maintaining eye contact. You give me your ‘bullshit’ look, and I realize nothing has changed. I almost smile before I remember what’s happening, that I need to work fast and convince you. I can’t lose you again, not now that I’ve found you. “The bus stop,” I reaffirm, before adding. “Nice bracelet.”

And I’ve changed the subject.

“I need to go home,” You say, sounding tired and frantic.

I take a step forward. “Let me walk you,”

“No, Joe.” You say loudly at first, and then repeat it a little softer.

“Please, Y/N,” I say in a tone that we both know is close to a beg. You look at me with those big fucking eyes and I hope I’m making the same expression back. The puppy dog eyes are something we’ve both mastered.

“Joe, I don’t love you anymore.” You say suddenly, and you throw your hands out to either side as if that’s it. As if that’s enough to satisfy me and it answers all my questions.

“Then why are you still wearing the bracelet?” I’m begging you now, pleading with you and I hate my own tone of voice.

You glance down at it as if you’ve forgotten about it. There’s a pause as you think for a moment, searching for words or for a lie. I’m frozen when I stand. “It’s not because I love you. It’s to remember.” You look up at me again, and your eyes aren’t just big anymore, they’re teary now. A part of me still wants to run to you, to tell you that it’s okay, but I know I can’t. “You killed me, Joe. Or you might as well have. I’m mourning her. I can’t forget her.”

Any act is long gone. We both know what you’re talking about, about all the conversations we had where you had tried to break up with me and I convinced you, about all the looks your had given me when I did something that would send off a red flag. “I didn’t, Y/N. I wouldn’t have. I was so careful with you.”

You look at me in a way I’ve never seen before. “I hid. I shouldn’t have had to hide. I changed so much about me, about who I was because I was scared you would find me somehow, I don’t know.” You run a distressed hand through your hair.

“Why? Why were you so scared of me, Y/N? I was just some kid in love. I loved you so much. I love you so much.” I take a step towards you.

You match it with one back, putting up a distressed hand. “Stop, Joe. Stop. I’m not doing this, okay? All of these things about you pointed to terror for me and I went with my gut because you hear all of these horror stories about girls and their boyfriends and it was better safe than sorry and-“ You sniff, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. You’re crying and I didn’t even realize it. “And I am sorry, Joe. I really am, but we both know that’s what I needed to do.” And you’re right, Y/N, and it would be a lie to deny it. I didn’t have to do anything to you and you knew who I was. No one has ever understood as well as you.

I am hurt as you look at me, somehow pained yet strong. “I’m sorry,” Is all I can manage out, and you don’t respond.

“I need to go home,” You say finally. “You do too, Joe. This is out there now, and we can move on. Okay? Don’t try to find me again.”

“But I can’t forget about you.” I don’t know if I’m making excuses or being honest anymore. For a split second, I think about lunging at you, grabbing you or striking you or something -- but then I remember that this isn’t just anyone. This is you. Candace, Beck, Love, they’re all modelled after you. I think that’s all I’m working for, is you again. Yet I respect you too much to treat you like them, and I love you too much to really let you go. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore.

“Then don’t,” You look at me with calm eyes. “Then don’t forget about me. It’s better to remember, but to keep it somewhere just out of reach. It’s not like I could forget you, Joe. You were a part of my life,” You admit. “No matter how bad, you can’t forget something like that.”

And that’s all you need to say. No goodbye, no farewell greeting. You turn and walk away.

And I let you, Y/N.

For the first time in my life, I watch someone walk away from me, and that’s it. Out of everyone, I hate that it’s you leaving yet I’m happy that we ended it like this. I watch your wrist swing slightly as you walk, the stringy ends of the bracelet swinging along with it. I think of what you said, about remembering, and I know there’s some truth there. I’ve felt it before, the need to remember Candace and Beck long after I had thought they were gone. For them -- and for me.

But as you turned the corner for the final time, something in me pulls at my senses, telling me what I already know is true. Your words ring in my mind one final time, but I know you’re wrong this once.

Sometimes, Y/N, it’s better not to remember, but to forget.

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sprnklersplashes · 3 years ago

Text

songwriter!janis fic (unrequited crush, no-very-happy-ending)

also on ao3

It all started because she loved Taylor Swift when she was in middle school. Who is she kidding, she still loves Taylor Swift, but that’s where all this began. A middle school girl’s obsession with Taylor Swift. A confused, sad girl with a broken heart and smudged black eyeliner, finding refuge in lyrics about loneliness and anger and revenge. They became anthems for her, mantras to mutter when the warzone of middle school became too much for her.

“Someday, I’ll be living in a big old city, and all you’re ever gonna be is mean.”

“Cause I knew you were trouble when you walked in.”

“I can still see you, this ain’t the best view.”

It amazes her. It’s honestly as if Taylor Swift has managed to look into her life and given her a bundle of songs for whatever she needs. For when Regina has thrown her one too many snide looks, for when she’s standing at the door of North Shore High on her first day, for when she eats lunch alone, for when her mom is the best mom she could have asked for, for when she and Damian are lying on the grass in her backyard, staring up at the sky, laughing at absolutely nothing. The songs become the soundtrack to her life, the chords and those raw, honest lyrics an emotional outlet she so desperately craves. Taylor, and her songs, become a confidant, almost a close friend who always knows what to say.

With all that in mind, perhaps it was only a matter of time before she asks for a guitar for Christmas. She’s fourteen, braces and a slight lisp, and jumps up and down like a mad woman when she sees it under the tree.

She practices for three days straight, until her fingers bleed, but Should’ve Said No is the first song she learns off by heart. She yells the lyrics with maybe a little too much passion, but her parents applaud her nonetheless.

Like she said, that’s how it all started.

Because that same Christmas, she realises that screaming her feelings while playing guitar actually feels pretty cathartic. And that if it worked for Taylor Swift, it could work for her. So she writes stuff down, plays around with chords and strumming until the beat on the guitar matches the one in her head. She grabs a page and a pencil and writes and re-writes her innermost thoughts and feelings on the page until they sound the way she wants them to. She plays around with rhyme schemes and structure and everything she’s been taught about in English class, and a thrill runs through her as she does so. It’s the same breathless high she feels when she paints or draws, the rush that comes from creating something.

Her parents sit on the other side of her bedroom door, no doubt exchanging worried glances as she repeats the same verse, same chorus, with only a word changed. She watches them when they think she can’t see, peering through the crack in her door. The conclusion they seem to come to is ‘well, as coping mechanisms go, it’s pretty good, and she’s happy, so who are we to stop it?’.

It takes her four days to finish her first song. And it sucks. But she keeps it, writes down the lyrics and chords in one of the few empty notebooks she has, and there’s no going back from it now. She writes, and she writes, and she writes, near enough every day. She likes to think she gets better with each one. She learns more chords, buys a cheap ukulele the summer after freshman year, tries her hand at piano during a particularly difficult few weeks. She doesn’t plan on doing anything with them. They’re just her little pieces to hold on to. Her therapy sessions outside the carpeted office.

No-one knows about it. She has a reputation to keep up, after all. The loner-by-choice, too-cool-for-school, aloof art freak. Everyone has their roles to play in the ecosystem that is high school and, much as she hates the entire system, that is hers to play. And she plays it well, if she may say so. The fact that hardly anyone knows her past that facade suits her just fine. After all, if people think she doesn’t care, she can’t get hurt. No-one needs to know that Janis Sarkisian actually has feelings.

Even less need to know that she writes songs about said feelings.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time she reaches her junior year, she’s onto her third notebook. She keeps them tucked away in her sock drawer, expertly hidden so only she can find them. Damian teases her about it, calling her “the protagonist of a Disney Channel Original Movie”. She just rolls her eyes and reminds him that “if either of us is gonna be Disney’s first openly gay character, it’ll be you”. He can’t argue with that.

It should be noted that when Janis said that no-one knows about her songwriting, Damian was the obvious exception. He found out just weeks after she started. There’s no keeping secrets from him.

Between all her notebooks, she’s written around forty songs.

Then she meets Cady Heron one day. The human embodiment of a labrador puppy, complete with wide, lost eyes. She likes her instantly, decides to take her under her wing because Lord knows the girl needs it. Cady’s smile is infectious, her laugh like a summer breeze. She has dimples and caramel-coloured hair and really likes maths.

She meets Cady on a Monday.

By that Saturday, song number 41-titled “Dimples and Curls” is more or less complete.

She plays it for Damian, hands only slightly shaking as she changes chords, the strumming short and upbeat, the melody strangely happy for such a bittersweet song.

He applauds her, but the subject of the song hangs in the air even after she’s played the last chord and the music fades. Unsaid, but not unknown. Just like her songwriting, Janis couldn’t keep a crush from Damian if she tried.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, check it out.”

Cady drops onto the seat across from Janis, the whole table shaking as she does so. Like a small meteor just hit Earth. Janis looks up from her lunch, pretending like she had been doing her own thing and not watching the door until Cady came in. Pretending like her stomach doesn’t do little flips at the sight of her crossing the cafeteria. She pulls the flyer towards her and hums in amusement.

“The winter talent show,” she reads before chomping off a carrot stick. “Oh, is it that time of year already?”

“Seems like only yesterday we was welcoming the young’uns into this brave new world during the harvest season,” Damian sighs, putting on a delightfully over the top Southern Belle accent, no doubt influenced by their reading of Streetcar Named Desire in English class. Janis cackles, and nearly chokes on her lunch as she does.

“And now the cold winds of winter are descending upon us,” she replies, her accent equally heavy. She bats her eyes for good measure, because she can and because it makes Cady laugh. “Oh but I pray the children will survive this season, it is often rough for them.”

“I am never showing you two anything winter related ever again,” Cady says.

Janis just shrugs and runs her hand through her hair before her eyes go back to the flyer. Clearly, whatever sophomore they got to design it this year did their best; found the prettiest looking snowflakes on Google Images to put on the cartoon stage, decided to write in some swirling, slanted font rather than the start-studded block lettering they usually went for. It’s still the same as it is every year, meaning just as mockable, but she’ll give them points for tying.

“Well, anyone here going for it?” she asks. She looks from Damian to Cady and back again, a teasing smirk on her lips. “Last year and all that.”

“Not sure I can,” Damian sighs. “I mean, I’m booked up with Spelling Bee rehearsals and spring cabaret auditions happening next semester.” He drums his fingers against his throat. “Gotta give the little vocal chords some rest, you know?”

Janis’ response is to sing the lowest note she possibly can before turning to Cady and giving her a pointed look, the corner of her mouth quirked up.

“Who? Me?” Cady’s cheeks turned crimson and she shakes her head so much that the caramel curls bounced around her shoulders. “No way. Damian can take the stage, I’m fine with my calculators and textbooks.”

“You could always solve equations in front of everyone,” Janis says. “I could call out college-level questions from the audience and you solve them in under 30 seconds.”

“I think I’ll pass,” she giggles. She leans forward slightly, eyes glittering, and Janis does her best not to squirm. The effect Cady Heron’s eyes have on her should be studied by scientists. “What about you, Janis?”

“I don’t know.” She thinks back to when she helped on stage crew last year, as well as helping out (or taking over) with the set design. It had been fun, the kind of challenge she needed to keep her mind off the slowly-going-off-the-rails plan. And she was told it looked good on her college applications, because all people can think about apparently is college, college, college. “Maybe. They might need another genius stage manager.”

“And you’ll step in if they can’t find one?” She digs Damian in the ribs for that comment.

“But not performing?” Cady asks, and Janis freezes. Performing had never even crossed her mind before. She’s used to backstage, hell, she likes backstage. It’s not that she has stage fright or anything, and if she had, her stunt at Ms Norbury’s little healing session would have squished it. She had just never thought about it.

But Cady had, apparently.

“I-No, I-I don’t think so,” she stammers out. “Um, I might do backstage again, but not actually doing something, you know, talent related.” She bites her tongue and clamps her lips shut before anything else can come out.

“Okay then,” Cady replies slowly. She gets up from the table, her little empty water bottle in her hands. “I’m going to go for a refill, save my seat.”

“No problem,” Janis says, but Cady’s already jogging away.

She doesn’t know if it’s good or bad that Cady’s known her too long to think of her as cool, and so this kind of awkward babbling isn’t really surprising to her. Instead of thinking about it, she just sets her head on the table and lets Damian rub her back.

“You were nowhere near as bad as you think you were,” he assures her.

“Title of your sex tape,” comes her murmured reply. Damian chuckles and runs his fingers through her hair, like she’s his pet cat. It helps.

“So you’re definitely not going for the talent show then?” he asks.

Her first instinct is to say no, because of course she isn’t, because she never has before and she sees no point in breaking a three-year streak, but the answer catches in her throat. At the same time, something begins forming in her brain, pieces of a melody she’s already known, words filling in blank spots in her brain, and her fingers twitch involuntarily, playing the chords on an invisible guitar. Without a word, she grabs a notepad and pen from her bag and scribbles the words down before she forgets them, quickly becoming breathless just by sitting there. She forgets, for a moment, everything else, the talent show, Cady, even Damian next to her, and just revels in the task and the quick buzz she gets just from writing. Just like that she has one eye on the clock, itching to get home and put her notes into the rest of the song.

But with those notes came an idea, an idea so completely out of left field she almost laughs at it.

“Janis?” Damian asks, just slightly unnerved by her. If anyone else were at this table, even Cady (especially Cady), she would have had to excuse herself and run to the bathroom, or just hope the words stayed in her head long enough for her to get a quiet moment. “Did the Goddess of Music just possess you again?”

“Maybe,” is her response. He doesn’t know it, but she answered both the questions he asked in the past minute.

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She sits on her bed that night, her homework half-done and strewn across the desk, abandoned in favour of the guitar sitting in her lap and notebook open on her bed. She’s been working on his song for the better part of a week, inspiration and motivation seemingly striking and then fading whenever she gets a free moment. Abandoning it has crossed her mind-she’s no stranger to abandoning things that aren’t working-but for some reason she hasn’t quite been able to shake this particular song off.

Maybe it is Euterpe, the Goddess of Music, descending upon her because this song has to be finished, it has to be, Olympus willing it so.

Or maybe it’s because this song is one of the most personal things she’s ever written, a love letter she’ll never send, and the idea of it sitting unfinished drives her crazy.

She plays another chord and sings the line again, changing the ending slightly, and makes the adjustment in her notes.

She’s crazy. This is already crazy, her secret double life as a wannabe T-Swift, but now she’s gone beyond that. Thinking of actually playing it. On a stage. In front of people. She doesn’t care what people think of her, she stopped caring about that a long, long time ago, but holy shit what will people think of her after she does this? Life isn’t like the movies, she knows that much. It won’t be some pretty, softly-lit moment where the crowd sits with teary eyes, Cady runs onstage and kisses her and she’s offered a deal by some big shot producer, and they all live happily ever after the end. What could happen is people think she’s even more of a weirdo than they do now.

Or she gets tomatoes thrown at her head and she’s booed off the stage. That’s a possibility.

She calls Damian, because that’s the only way she sees out of her little thought cul-de-sac. She puts the phone on speaker and props it up against a pillow, keeping her hands free for her guitar and her pen. He picks up on the third ring, just as she’s strumming out a G chord.

“Oh, is someone prepping for her Grammy?” he asks. “You’re still taking me as your date, right?”

“Only if my dog can’t go,” she replies. She taps her nails against the wood, the rhythm too fast and frantic to just be a habit. Yes, she can tell Damian anything, and being nervous in front of him is laughable, but sometimes her body forgets that. “So, I was thinking about the talent show.”

“Oh? You’re going for stage crew again? Cool.”

“No-not exactly.” She knows he can’t see the smile creeping across her face, but she’d wager he can hear it through the phone. A small swarm of butterflies flutters in her chest, leaving her just slightly out of breath. “I… I. think I’m going to try performing in it.”

A burst of laughter comes through the phone, slightly tinged with static, and Janis wishes he were here so she could slap him. Even if it’s not malicious in intent at all, and she’s laughing right along with him. Slapping is kind of a love language for them.

“Okay, okay cool. What’re you going to do?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” she says, and then she plays the opening chords to her latest experiment. She doesn’t add in the lyrics, not yet. Still, she sits back and basks in his applause when she finishes, cackling into her hand. He might be one person, but he’s got enough enthusiasm to match a packed auditorium. “What do you think?”

“I’m into it,” he tells her. “So… that’s the one you’re doing?”

“Think so.” She tosses the pick between her fingers. Like he could feel her smile, she can feel his raised eyebrow through the phone, the elephant in the room poking her with its trunk. “Yes, I know.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought it,” she tells him, and he doesn’t deny it. She looks back over the lyrics she’s written and re-written. Despite some adjustments, it’s still in essence the same. Still about a girl with pretty hair who smells like vanilla and cinnamon, who has a boyfriend and is unknowingly breaking the heart of a girl with black eyeliner and paint stained fingers. Because her boyfriend is pretty and clean and smells like soap and can do math, and how is the poor art girl even meant to compare to that?

“Yes,” she says after a while. “It is about Cady.”

“Aw, my poor lovestruck songstress,” he sighs. He shifts then, and the air shifts with him. “You sure that’s the one you want to sing? I mean you have dozens of other non-Cady related songs. I’m sure Mr Duvall would love to hear Angry Teenage Lesbian Anthem.”

“First off, I gave that one a title, it’s called Shattered,” she reminds him. “And-” She freezes, the rest of her sentence catching in her throat. He’s right. She could perform one of her other songs, that are already finished and therefore removing the pressure to have this one finished, polished and stage-ready. And of course, it would mean she wouldn’t be standing in front of her entire grade and telling them all how badly she’s in love with her best friend. Showing her deepest secret to the people who have already driven her out of school once. It’s a far safer, potentially less traumatic option for her.

But…

“No,” she says. “I know it sounds crazy but I feel like… I feel like I need to do this.” She swallows thickly and picks softly at the guitar strings. “It’s like… like this way at least I’m telling her, you know? Even if she doesn’t know it.”

Of course, Damian gets it.

“That’s beautiful, babe,” he tells her. “So you’re actually doing this?”

“I’m actually doing this,” she replies firmly. “And tomorrow, I need you to make sure I don’t chicken out before I sign up.”

“Got it. I’ll just order you to do it as Senior Co-Chair of the Student Activities Committee.”

“That’s an abuse of power.”

“Then consider yourself abused baby.” He laughs and she laughs with him, and then she hears something on Damian’s end. “I have to go. A certain little sister of mine has a princess costume that needs attending to. See you later.”

“See you later,” she replies before he clicks off the call. She looks down at her paper, then at her guitar, and thinks about what she just committed to. “I’ve got some work to do.”

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The song goes through four rewrites in the weeks leading up to the talent show. The whole first verse is changed, the chorus scrapped and replaced with a new one, then that one is scrapped and she goes back to the old one. She sits hunched on her floor with a pencil in her mouth, wondering if what she’s written is too personal or not personal enough. If it’s too obvious that Cady, smart cookie that she is, will work it out and that’ll lead them down a new, scary path. She cuts some lyrics that give the game away, opting to replace one about love for numbers with love for learning, because that opens up the pool to half their grade. She writes about Cady’s blue eyes rather than specifically those double dimples that make her melt. Maybe she’s compromising her artistic vision, but it might be worth it if it’ll keep her crush a secret. She keeps the old lyrics tucked in the back of her notebook, just to have them.

Meanwhile, she’s also dealing with the fact that people know she has signed up for the talent show. That Miss Too Cool For School Loner Art Freak Janis is actually performing at a school event. And she doesn’t even get extra credit for it. They’re surprised, and curious, and none more so than Cady. The other girl appears at her side almost instantly after first period, skinny little arms wrapped around her bicep and blue eyes alight.

Oh, the things those eyes do to her.

“Janis!” she squeaks. “I saw-on the sign up sheet-your name! Oh my God, is this a joke? Did Damian put you up to it?”

“No, no, I signed up of my own accord,” Janis tells her. That only makes Cady bounce more, ponytail bobbing up and down.

“Oh wow, that’s amazing!” she says. She stops then, her mouth freezing in its place and her cheeks turning pink. Slowly, she comes down to Earth, like a balloon that had the air let out of it. Janis can almost hear the wheeze. “I mean um, it’s pretty cool, I guess.”

“It’s pretty grool,” Janis replies, and just like that Cady bounces back up again.

“Oh my gosh, what are you going to do?” she asks. “Or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“You think I have some secret knife-throwing talent?” she grins. She hesitates for a moment, looking down at Cady’s excited face, because even if this isn’t telling her… it’s telling her. “I’m… I’m going to sing.” She pulls on the strap of her backpack and avoids Cady’s eyes. “Something I wrote.”

“Okay,” Cady says. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

“Hey!” she laughs. “I can write stuff. I can be deep.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about it,” Cady says, bumping her arm against Janis’. “But for real, Janis, I can’t wait to see it. I know you’ll be amazing.”

Warmth spreads across her pale cheeks, a pink blush no doubt colouring her face, and she somehow manages to choke out a “thanks” as her brain turns to static. Her only thought is ‘Cady thinks I’m going to be good’, and it’s written in glitter pen across her brain.

“This is going to be great,” she goes on. “Oh, wait until I tell Aaron. He’s got a break in his schedule that week so he’s coming up to see the talent show! Isn’t that great?”

And just like that, Janis’ good mood falls. Her face stays the same, because she’s trained to do it, but everything behind it crumbles.

“Yeah, that’s great,” she replies. Cady squeezes her hand, oblivious, and drags her along the hallway, chatting away about some lion documentary she had watched last night.

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She finishes the song that night. She arrives home with a heavy chest, so full of complicated, messy feelings, and her conversation with Cady still so fresh in her mind, her ears still ringing from the emotional whiplash. Her parents barely get a ‘hello’ as she enters and bolts up to her room, her hands shaking, the thoughts swirling around her brain desperate to be let out.

And let them out she does. She writes so quickly they look more like smudges than words, her fingers flying over rapidly changing chords, her voice broken and panting as she sings. The words almost write themselves, like the song has taken on a life of its own and she’s just along for the ride. She barely remembers to pause, to breathe, so wrapped up in the storm she’s created with just her guitar and pen.

It’s only when she finishes and falls back on her bed that she notices the tears in her eyes. She blinks them away and pulls herself up, her notebook in her hand. It’s done. The perfect blend of her own honest feelings and just enough smokescreen to keep people from knowing who it’s really about.

There’s no backing out now, she thinks. Her stomach drops, like she’s on the top of a roller coaster about to go down. A laugh bubbles up in her throat and leaves her breathless, her head spinning while she’s still laying there.

If holy shit were am adjective, she'd use it to describe how she feels. Because holy shit.

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Being backstage when she’s not on crew is a strange experience. She stands with her guitar slung around her body, in the middle of a current of students moving around her, half with the clunky microphones and walkie-talkies she’s used so many times before. She asks five of them if she can do anything to help-because they’re her people and she needs to do something to occupy her time-until she finally takes the hint and leaves them to it. Stagehands are the most efficient parts of any production, as she told Damian once. They’re a well-oiled machine at this point.

“Yo!” For a second, Janis thinks she imagined the whisper, just one in a jumble of backstage noises, until Damian appears at her side. A tiny ‘shit’ escapes her mouth, her body jerking. Barely anyone bats an eye at her, except him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.”

“Don’t worry. I think at this point a small breeze could knock into me and I’d crumble.”

“The great Janis Sarkisian gets nervous?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“Only when she’s doing something incredibly personal and scary in front of her entire grade,” she whispers back. She swallows past the lump in her throat. “Aside from that I’m a beacon of confidence and unshakable will.”

“Hey.” He taps his knuckles against hers. “Remember how scared you were at Norbury’s assembly?”

“You mean after I had my picture all over the school with the d-slur written underneath it?” she mutters. “Yeah, I was shitting myself.”

“And yet, look what you did there,” he reminds her. “You were amazing. And you’re going to be amazing here too. Once you get on that stage, all those butterflies are going to make you fly, kid.”

She smiles, her heart warm, and pressed her face into the crook of Damian’s neck.

She doesn’t know how she got so lucky to have him, but she knows better than to tempt fate.

“Janis Sarkisian?” She lifts her head to find a freshman girl with a headset around her neck looking at her. “You’re up next.”

“Okay.” It’s only now she becomes aware that the last minute of Fairytale Of New York is playing, the notes will soon fade out, and that’s her cue. She turns to Damian and lets him straighten her black cardigan and fiddle with the collar of her shirt. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it.” He drops a whisper of a kiss to her nose. “But good luck.”

She holds her half-heart necklace as he goes, the twin to the one around his neck. It’s as close as she can get to having him with her. Her chest tightens as she makes her way to the stage and she tries to breathe through it, because the next thign she knows, Mr Duvall is announcing her name, and she’s being greeted by a blinding spotlight that thankfully obscures most of her peers’ faces.

“Uh, hi,” she says into the microphone placed out for her. It’s just people , she reminds herself. Somewhere in that crowd, second row, seat 14, is Damian, and she breathes easier. And next to him is Cady, the girl this song is about, and for some reason that straightens her spine and irons out the shaking in her voice. She takes the pick out of its holder and tosses her hair back. “This is a song I wrote about being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back.” She blinks and hopes no-one sees the tears in her eyes. “So sing along if you get into it, because we all know it’s a shitty ass feeling.”

She plays the first chord, and then any and all doubts she had about this flee her. As cliche as it sounds, the song takes over her, and she blows through the nerves in the first verse. The experience becomes cathartic instead, like releasing a pressure valve on her soul. Even with the little diversions she threw in, she hasn’t felt this open and god damn free since last year, paraded on her peers’ shoulders with both middle fingers up. Except now she’s not flipping anyone off, or proving a point, she’s just finally telling someone how she feels, and holy shit, it’s amazing. Whatever the aftermath of this is, she won’t care, it’s worth it just for this feeling.

As she sings the last word, and that final note rings in the auditorium, her hands are shaking, her cheeks wet with tears and her hair sticky with sweat. She touches beneath her eye and her fingers come away stained black. She hasn’t cried in front of people since middle school. She doesn’t care.

The cheers of her classmates ring in her ears, Damian’s whooping the loudest of all, and as she takes her bow, she hopes she’ll remember this moment for a long time.

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“Oh my God!” she’s barely into the auditorium when Cady launches herself at her, arms wrapped around her neck and legs circling her waist. Janis nearly topples over, digging her back leg into the ground just in time, and hugs Cady with the same ferocity. “You were amazing!” she yells into her shoulder, the sound muffled by Janis’ hair.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” She sets Cady down, but the other girl keeps a tight grip on both her arms. Janis wonders if it’s to keep herself from flying away, given the amount of bouncing up and down she’s doing. “I can’t believe you wrote that! It was so good! You need to record it, Jan. Do you have any other songs?”

“Just a few,” she says. “And I don’t know if I’m in the business of making an album any time soon.” She swings her guitar case a little. “This might have been a one-time thing.”

“Well, even if it was, it was awesome,” she says.

“Thank you, Caddy,” Janis replies. “That means a lot.”

Her mouth runs dry as Cady smiles, all baby pink lipgloss and sparkling eyes and full cheeks. If this were a movie, she thinks, this would be the part where they kiss. No need for talking, or an explanation. Because Cady would have just known. The music would turn soft and twinkly, and the lighting would match it and it would look like they’re in a dream and they’d just kiss, and it will fix all of Janis’ problems. Maybe a single tear will run down her cheek. And then they’ll run off into their new lives as the end credits roll.

How sweet that would be.

But her life isn’t a movie. If she wants anything, she has to go for it herself.

And that includes-

“Caddy.” Her name is delicate on her lips, handled with care. Cady looks at her, giving a simple ‘mm-hm’ in response, and Janis’ heart beats out of control. “That song I just sang, it-”

“Hey, guys.”

Also if this was a movie, Cady’s sweet, lovely, nice boyfriend would not be barging in right now. He’d either be a douchebag who she doesn’t feel bad about hurting, or he’d be nonexistent.

Unfortunately, this is not a movie, and Aaron Samuels exists and is the human equivalent of a squishmallow.

“Hey Aaron.” He slings his arm around Cady’s shoulders, and she leans into his touch almost instinctively. “Janis, you were great up there. I didn’t know you wrote songs.”

“It’s a bit of a new hobby,” she says, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat, and finds a bottle of water being handed to-thrown at-her.

“Hydrate those chords,” is Damian’s greeting.

“This is what I get for being friends with a theatre kid,” she sighs before she takes a drink. She hadn’t realised how dry her throat was until now.

“Okay, so we’re all going for pancakes,” Aaron says. “I take it you two are coming?”

“How can I say no to pancakes?” Janis asks. “Uh, you guys go ahead, I have to get my stuff from the green room.”

“Okay, we’ll wait for you,” Cady says. “Aaron brought his car so he can drive us.”

“Grool.” Cady and Aaron turn around together, Aaron spinning his eyes around his finger and Cady lacing her fingers through his, talking about something she can’t hear. It’s like watching them through a sheet of glass.

Not a movie. Not unless it’s one of those really, really sad movies. Sad homophobic movies.

“You okay?” Damian asks. She snorts at the question. Nothing has changed, so of course she’s okay. But then, nothing has changed, so she’s not really okay.

“I did it,” she sighs. “It’s out there. I told her, unofficially. Whether or not she works it out…” She runs her hand through her tangled hair. “That’s something else entirely.” Damian hums in agreement, a sympathetic look on his face that soon morphs into a grin.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks Mom.” They snort, Janis caught between a laugh and a sob, and squeezes Damian’s hand. She’s not optimistic about any romance in her future, at least where Cady is concerned. She and Aaron are still rock-solid and she’s happy for them, whenever she isn’t angsting about it. It’s a weird combination to have.

And at least she’s done this now. Despite a future for her and Cady not being in the cards for now, she’s glad she did it. The secret isn’t out, not entirely. Just written on the walls in invisible ink.

“Come on,” she tells Damian. “I actually do have to get my bag, and you can use this as an opportunity to double check the ghost light is on.”

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Cady and Aaron keep their promise and wait for them, waving off their apologies as they jog across the parking lot. Cady lets Damian take the front seat with Aaron and slides into the back with Janis instead. Janis frowns, confused as to why she isn’t taking her normal seat up front, and Cady rolls her eyes.

“There was a draw on the way here, and we lost,” she explains. “And now Damian has control of the aux chord,” She gestures with her head to the passenger seat, and Janis turns just in time to see him open his Spotify and scroll through his playlists. As the opening notes to Waving Through A Window fill the car, it’s met with three loud groans. Damian only turns it up louder, and adds in his own backing vocals.

“So, that song you sang,” Cady asks, leaning back in the seat. “Was it about anyone in particular?”

Janis looks down, her hands pressed together in her lap. If this is the moment the universe decided to give her, it’s a really terrible moment. Not only is Cady’s whole boyfriend sitting an arm’s length away from her, but she left her nerve back in the auditorium. Clearly, her and fate aren’t on each other’s wavelength.

“You wouldn’t know her,” she says. “She doesn't even go here.”

“Oh,” Cady replies. Her face falls, but she’s not too put out by it. Why would she be? She nudges Janis’ shoulder, a proud smile on her face, and squeezes Janis’ hand. “Well, if she has someone like you into her and she hasn’t taken the chance yet, then she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Janis only thanks her, and quickly changes the subject.

Someday she might tell her for real, but for now she'll stick to the songs.

#mean girls broadway #mean girls fanfic #cadnis #janis sarkisian #cady heron #cadnis ff #cady x janis #space safari #mean girls musical

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alyblacklist · 4 years ago

Link

New interview from Vanity Fair (Italy) with James Spader (in Italian). Translation via Google translate below (corrections welcome):

Eight years after its debut, the TV series with Megan Boone and James Spader is back on FoxCrime. Already renewed for a ninth season, the show won't provide any representation of the Coronavirus or American politics. "We are an escape from reality and we want to remain so."

"In eight years, not a single episode has gone far and wide." The voice of James Spader, on the last Friday in the red zone, peeps out from a distant space, from an America in rebirth, whose present enthusiasm has not found any representation in the television series of which he is the protagonist. Spader, The Blacklist's Raymond Reddington, has strenuously opposed the possibility of contaminating one's fictional universe with the dross of the present. "Our show has always existed within a parallel world. Over the years, we have never bothered to plot a plot that had to do with real life, with newspaper headlines and news stories ». The Blacklist, whose eighth season is set to debut on FoxCrime on prime time on February 12, "has defined a universe of its own, to which it has remained faithful." Therefore, no Joe Biden, in the twenty-two new episodes of the television series. No pandemic.

The Blacklist, on air since 2013, will only find the characters who have made it a cult. Raymond Reddington, a repentant criminal whose decision to cooperate with the police is not the daughter, alone, of a sudden goodness of heart; Elizabeth Keen, special agent responsible for following his confessions; Donald Ressler, Harold Cooper, the set of FBI agents and gangsters whose "Red" is determined to secure a future behind bars.

Many television series usually set in fictional universes have, however, decided to make an exception and give their own representation of the pandemic. Why this categorical "no"?

“For a few, but effective reasons. I think one of the strengths of our show has always been its verisimilitude. The Blacklist is a parallel universe, in which credible characters live. This allowed the audience to find an escape from reality in the series. I think many viewers watch The Blacklist because it allows them to detach themselves from the problems related to everyday life, and this has led us to exclude the pandemic over everything ».

However, you will have had to face the restrictions that the Coronavirus has brought with it.

"Absolutely. We had to deal with many restrictions, we had to limit the number of people present in a given location. But, net of the difficulties and the productive effort that required us, I think I can say that a magnificent job has been done ».

Work that will continue: The Blacklist has already been confirmed for a ninth season. What still remains to be told?

"Much. It may seem absurd, but in eight years we have never found ourselves beating around the bush. No episode, in the eight seasons, was thought of as a filler. I remember one day talking to Jon Bokenkamp, the director. He had a twenty-minute longer bet on his hands. We tried to figure out how to cut it, which unnecessary scenes to eliminate. In the end, it was twenty minutes longer than it should have ”.

Aren't you bored playing the same character for eight years?

"No. On the set of The Blacklist, I've never had a mediocre or mundane day. The series has always been very exciting and the very idea of moving forward excites me. There are many surprises in this new season. There are more for the public than for me. The writers and I talked for a long time about what we were going to do, so nothing could surprise me once shooting started ».

And this would lead us to think of a certain repetitiveness ...

“It would induce, though. When I play the part of Red I'm not surprised by the story we're telling, but by the world we're making it in. '

Explain.

"One of the great entertainments of being an actor is being able to be surprised by your reactions: there is amazement in the physical and emotional responses that are given in certain situations. There is some wonder in seeing a location for the first time. There is growth in looking at a problem or a fact from a new perspective. The surprise, when you are an actor, is not about where you get to on the show, it's about the little things, the details, even personal, that we discover as we go on ».

So what has Raymond Reddington left you over these eight seasons?

"From the beginning, what I loved most about Red was his irreverence, his sense of humor. I discovered and learned to love his pervasive and profound longing for life ». His character is highly ambivalent.

Has he really never despised him?

“I don't usually make judgments about my characters. I have a deep understanding of everything Raymond stands for. Rather, I'd say there are things about Red that Red doesn't like: his brutality and the danger he poses to others, for example. But I think Red is aware of the qualities that make him strong and able to survive the worst circumstances in life. He saw the tremendous price of loss and witnessed it. He feels how bad death does. This led him to strongly desire sweetness, calm, love. He is a dichotomous character, and it is this ambivalence of him that has made him so interesting ».

He often talks about his collaboration with the writers. What exactly does it consist of?

«In a real collaboration. Let's talk about everything that has to do with the show. We talk before the writing of the scripts, during the shoot. Let's talk about the new entries and the possible suppression of some characters. We are talking about subplots that can last years, months or days. Let's talk about the tone of the show, the dialogues. We talk during the holidays. This series keeps me awake at night ».

And do you think it's a good thing?

“Let's just say I've always had trouble sleeping. When I wake up, my mind begins to travel fast. I tend to be an obsessive compulsive person, so I often stay up at night shaping ideas about The Blacklist. It happens that I waste hours trying to remember them, so as to put them on paper the following morning ».

Elizabeth Keen, the special agent played by Megan Boone, is one of the strongest female characters on television. How do you judge the change that Hollywood is aiming for, the progressive abandonment of gender roles?

«I find it fundamental. For me, as a man and actor, it always has been. I have always felt more comfortable in the company of women. I grew up with a female majority in the house, a terrific mother and two older sisters. I've always been attracted to strong female characters and the ones I've met in my films have been. I've always looked at the world from a female perspective, and I can't imagine doing otherwise. I understand, however, that it took the industry some time to get here. Today, I feel like saying that it is only a matter of time for the real and definitive change to be achieved ».

Digital has imposed a decidedly sustained production rate, even on linear television. Do you find such trouble to be good?

«I state that I, on the other hand, have never felt in competition with digital or Netflix. Netflix aired The Blacklist, creating added value for all of us. Streaming brought us audiences, and it was great. In general, I'm happy to have the huge amount of programs we have now. Competition is a good thing, it leads to excellence, it spurs commitment ".

Cinema, television, theater. In his career he has done everything. Which medium did you prefer?

“On television, I found a greater opportunity for further study. The Blacklist is the second TV show I work on, and has been running for over 150 episodes. My first character I played in The Practice, then in Boston Legal. Either way, I found it fascinating to see how it evolved, not in history, but over time. My TV characters have aged with me, and I with them. I think it's the best thing about working on television ».

Nothing bad then?

“You wake you up in the morning.When I started acting, I found myself working on the stage.It was a night job, and I've always been a night person, not a morning person.So when I found myself making films, I always tried to play characters who lived at night. What, this, that I managed, if you notice. It was television that forced me to turn. TV is a day job, which starts very early in the morning. It was a shock.I haven't gotten used to the sound of the alarm yet. '

#the blacklist #james spader #interview #raymond reddington

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dontcare77ghj · 4 years ago

Text

Leisure Sickness

Natasha x reader x Tony x Steve

Leisure sickness is defined as a psychological condition in which people, read workaholics, can become ill when given time off.

Leisure sickness's symptoms can include headaches, nausea, insomnia, and vomiting.

These symptoms quickly became synonymous with Steve, Natasha, Y/N, and Tony whenever they went on vacation.

The four of you had decided that you'd had enough with the media and the general public for this season. It seemed as if everyone had an opinion on the team, and you were all sick of it.

So Steve had pitched the idea of the four of you going on vacation for a couple of weeks.

It had been a lot of back and forth before the four of you came to a decision that you were all happy with.

The four of you would take three weeks off from the world unless it was about to end and stay at a house on Tony's private island.

"This place is massive. I'm pretty sure I've been lost for the last hour." You said, entering the kitchen where Natasha and Steve were putting groceries away.

"You've been gone ten minutes, doll." Steve chuckled, stocking the fridge full of drinks.

"Are you sure? Because I'm pretty sure it's been an hour." You commented, taking a seat on the counter. "Are we sure time doesn't work differently here?"

"How much coffee have you had?" Natasha asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"I had two cups on the plane." You told her honestly.

"You mean the cups that were basically soup bowls?" Steve clarified.

"I drank whatever was served to me." You shrugged.

"We're going to talk about that later," Natasha said, pointing a finger at you. "But first, can you find Tony? We haven't seen him since we got here."

"Sure. I've explored a lot of this place. I should be able to find him." You shrugged, jumping off the counter.

"Alright, we'll see you in an hour," Steve said, receiving the middle finger from you.

To be fair, Steve might have been pretty spot on. To explore just the ground floor took you about twenty minutes, and there were still two floors, both with dozens of rooms each, to search.

"What's behind door number nineteen?" You mumbled, pulling open your nineteenth door, you'd been counting, to reveal another bathroom.

Except this one held your Tony. A Tony who wasn't looking so good.

"Tones?" You asked quietly, moving to kneel beside the empty bathtub Tony was occupying. "What's wrong, hon?"

"Just a bit of a headache," Tony mumbled.

"And you're in the bathtub because?"

"It's nice and cool," Tony told you, keeping his eyes closed.

"Okay, how about you stay here, and I'll get you something for your head?" You suggested, gently brushing hair off his forehead.

"Thank you," Tony mumbled, leaning his head back once more.

"Couldn't you find him?" Steve asked when you reentered the kitchen.

"No, I found him." You told him, beginning to look through the cupboards. "Hauled up in a bathtub with a raging headache. Did we pack any Tylenol?"

"Here," Natasha said, throwing it to you. "I thought he looked a little pale on the plane." She commented.

"He was fine before we got on the plane, though," Steve mentioned. "You think it's an extreme form of jetlag?"

"Could be. It could also be the fact that Tony's not looked after himself at all the past week." You said. "He's been working himself to the bone. His body probably doesn't understand what's going on."

"So we should expect him to feel worse." Natasha deduced. "I'll make something to settle his stomach." She nodded to herself.

"And I'll deliver this." You said, shaking the pills.

"I'll come with you. I imagine the bathtub's not that comfortable, and Tony might not want to walk to the bedroom." Steve said, moving to follow you.

"Has death finally come for me?" Tony asked when the two of you made your way back to him.

"Not yet, Tones." You told him, kneeling in the same place as before.

"And not for a long time," Steve added, bending beside you.

"Ugh, I really thought it was him that time." Tony sighed before cracking his eyes open. "Did you bring the good stuff?"

"I did." You nodded, dosing out two of the tablets and handing them to him. "Give me a second, and I'll get you some water." You said, rising to stand, but Tony took the two dry. "That's disgusting."

"Water's for bitches." Tony grunted before closing his eyes again.

"Come on, Tony, let's get you to bed," Steve said to him.

"Too much work." Tony denied before Steve picked him up. "Woah! Give a man a little warning." Tony grumbled as Steve chuckled quietly.

"Asking's for bitches." You teased, walking in front of the two and opening doors.

"Get some rest, Tony," Steve said, putting onto the bed and pulling the covers over him.

"I'll shut my eyes for a few minutes, and I'll be fine," Tony mumbled, rolling over onto his side.

It didn't even take Tony another minute before he was fast asleep.

The next time the four of you decided to go on vacation, you'd decided to go a bit more touristy.

The four of you were in London for two weeks and would be spending your days visiting every popular tourist attraction. It was your second day in London, the first dedicated to sleeping off the jetlag, and you would soon be leaving the house.

At least you would be if you could settle your stomach.

Your stomach had been churning all night, and no matter what, you couldn't stop it. You'd managed to crawl into the bathroom and not wake anyone, but now you were stuck on the floor.

"Sweetheart? Y/N?" You could hear your name being called. "Y/N, where are you?"

The bathroom door opened, but you couldn't lift your head from its position.

"Found her," Natasha called before walking over to you. "You look like shit, med," Natasha said, placing a hand on your back.

"Nice, real nice." You groaned, lifting your head slightly. "Just give me a minute to get up and get dressed, and we can get going."

"The only place you're going is back to bed," Natasha told you as Steve and Tony entered the bathroom.

"Doll, are you okay?" Steve questioned you.

"I'm fine. I just need help getting up. And maybe getting dressed." You told him.

"Y/N, you are sick," Natasha said firmly.

"Nu-uh, I haven't thrown up yet." You denied.

"You don't look too far off from it, babe," Tony informed you. "How long have you been here?"

"I don't know. It was still dark when I came in." You grunted before dry heaving, but nothing would come up.

"Okay, Steve, would you please get some ginger ale?" Natasha asked, pulling your hair off your face. "Y/N, when was the last time you ate?"

"Not sure."

"Okay, add some saltines to that order too, Steve," Natasha told him.

"Do you honestly not remember the last time you ate?" Tony asked, coming to sit next to Natasha.

"I was working on that paperwork for Nick until the minute we left." You mumbled. "Forgot to eat."

"And that's most likely why you're feeling like crap now." Natasha hummed. "Do you think you'll be okay if we get you back to bed?"

"Just leave me here to perish." You groaned.

"No can do, you're stuck with us," Tony said as he helped Natasha pull you to your feet.

"Sorry I ruined vacation." You whimpered as you were laid in bed.

"You didn't ruin anything, med," Natasha promised, brushing hair from your forehead. "Not at all."

"We still have time before we have to go home." Tony soothed your guilty conscience. "There's plenty of time to do all the touristy bullshit your little heart desires."

"Yay." You moaned, curling into a ball.

It was a long time before the four of you were able to go on another vacation.

Missions had begun to become back to back and would last weeks, Tony was forced to travel for SI, and Fury seemed to have an unhealthy attachment to long meetings.

It was after Natasha had been on a mission for two months, Tony had been in Japan for one month, and you and Steve had endured countless hours in the hands of Fury that Steve declared you all needed a vacation.

Steve had literally googled relaxing vacations before deciding upon Brittany, France.

Though Steve had argued with Fury, for what felt like days, Steve was only able to barter a week off for the four of you.

"Tony, why do you have more bags than me?" You asked as Steve attempted to play Tetris with your luggage.

"I like to have options, dear," Tony said, pulling his sunglasses on. "Never know when one of those parasites are going to spot me."

"Don't call reporters parasites." Steve chided.

"Are we ready to go yet?" Natasha asked, pulling on a jacket despite it being a warm day. "The plane is going to leave soon."

"Just one more bag, and we can get going," Steve told her, picking up a small suitcase.

"Can I once again point out how ridiculous that is? I own the plane. It should wait for me." Tony scoffed, climbing into the car with Natasha right behind him.

The four of you faced no more problems until halfway through the flight. Natasha had jumped from her seat, startling the three of you from your half-asleep states, and bolted into the plane's bathroom.

It was seconds before the sounds of retching filled the plane.

"Tash?" Steve asked as the three of you stood up.

"I'm good." Natasha choked out. "Get away from the door, Steven."

"How'd she know it was only me?" Steve grumbled, walking back over to you and Tony.

"Spy, Steven!"

Natasha stayed in the bathroom for another seven minutes exactly. When she exited, her skin was flushed, she was covered in a thick layer of sweat, and she was shivering violently.

"FRI give me Nat's temperature," Tony demanded as you rushed to pull Natasha to a chair.

"101.3, boss," FRIDAY informed you all.

"Shit, Nat," Steve swore. "How long have you been running a fever?"

"Not running a fever." Natasha denied, lounging back in the chair and pulling her jacket closer.

"101.3 is a fever, Tash." You said, pulling her jacket off. "We might have to get you to a hospital."

"How long until we land, FRI?"

"Three hours, boss."

"We're going to have to bring her temperature down ourselves," Steve said, grabbing a towel and dumping his iced water on it.

By the time the plane landed, the three of you had successfully managed to bring Natasha's temperature down.

The four of you emerged from the plane, Natasha cradled in Steve's arms.

"That was probably the most stressful start to a vacation," Tony commented as you all entered a waiting car. "Let's get you to a hospital, hey, Nat?"

The four of you stayed away from vacations for a long time after that incident. Not because you were all slightly traumatized but because life seemed to pick up its pace once more.

It had been a year and a half since Natasha had a raging fever, and now the four of you were on yet another getaway.

Except for this time, it was for new reasons.

The four of you had had a commitment ceremony just two days ago, the Asgardian equivalent of a polyamorous wedding.

It had been a long time coming and a lot of planning, but it was worth it. And it had meant everything to you all.

Now the four of you were on your honeymoon in Tony's rebuilt Malibu home.

"Do you think we'd get in trouble if we moved here?" Natasha asked, pulling her sunglasses down.

"From who? We're all adults. Who would we get in trouble with?" Tony asked her.

"Fury. The government. The news. The world." You listed off.

"At the end of the day, how much do they really matter?" Tony shrugged, pulling you onto his lap.

"You would avoid Nick?" Natasha asked, quirking a brow.

"The pirate doesn't scare me." Tony shook his head as you and Natasha grinned. "Don't tell him I said that."

Before either of you could respond, the sound of footsteps coming closer caused you all to look up.

Steve was staggering over to the poolside, looking very much worse for wear.

"Jesus, Stevie, how many laps did you do?" Natasha asked as Steve stole her water and gulped it down.

"One." Steve gasped. "I felt like I was going to pass out, so I quit."

"Jesus Christ, sit down, Steve." You ordered, standing and moving over to the blonde. "You are really pale." You tsked, holding his head in your hands.

"That's the Irish in him." Tony joked, now standing behind you with Natasha at his side.

"When was the last time you slept?" You asked, running your finger over the prominent dark circles.

"The wedding night." Steve sighed. "I haven't been able to sleep since."

"You're exhausted, Steve." Natasha pointed out. "You can't run on willpower alone."

"I know that, but I physically can't make myself sleep," Steve told her. "I don't know what it is, but I can't."

"Maybe it's because you're trying to force yourself to sleep instead of allowing yourself to." Tony reasoned.

"Why did you get all philosophical?" Steve asked him.

"Always have been. Let's get you to bed, Cap." Tony said, helping Steve to his feet. With a bit of maneuvering, the three of you were able to move the bulky super soldier to your large bed and put him under the covers.

"Stay, please," Steve mumbled, already half asleep.

"Always, Stevie." You said as the three of you crawled in beside your Steve.

Vacations could always be stressful, but it seemed for the four of you it was always amplified. Especially when someone always managed to get sick.

Remember all Taglists are open as are requests.

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macgyverseries · 4 years ago

Text

rebutting and debunking frequently used arguments against macriley

I made this 10-page google doc rant a while ago, but I never ended up posting it. Today, however, I woke up and chose violence. So here it is: my thoughts on frequently used arguments against macriley.

I took some quotes and arguments that people put online (reddit, tumblr..), and I debunked them all :p I feel like I always see the same arguments all the time, and I’m honestly getting a little tired of hearing them. I’m here to settle this once and for all.

and yes, i did manage to cut down the google doc by 3 pages :D (but it's still long af so rip my brain)

1.”Mac and Riley are siblings because Jack is their father”

I can (mostly) get behind the argument that Mac and Riley shouldn’t be in a romantic relationship because of their super strong friendship. Some people really value that sole platonicness, and I get that.

But the argument that I can’t get behind is that: Mac and Riley are siblings because Jack is their father figure”

If you google the definition of “father,” the first result that comes up is: “a man in relation to his children.”

Now, Jack was definitely the father figure to Riley, and I would consider her his child. He raised her. He helped shape her ideals and upbringing.

Mac only met Jack when he left MIT. So it was pretty much after Mac was raised (by Bozer’s parents haha), that Jack really came into his life. Mac already became his own person. (also, I always saw Mac and Jack as more of a bromance)

So because Riley and Mac met Jack at different periods of their lives, and they were raised differently, I wouldn’t say that they were siblings who were raised by the same father.

2. “The show writers left the impression that there was a huge age gap between them”

I understand this a little. I do think Riley was introduced as pretty young and idk naive? Because she was literally in highschool, and then she went to prison, and then she got released into the wild. Personally, when I started watching the show, I googled the whole cast. So I started the show knowing that they were the same age.

And also, the more I got to know Riley, the more that I thought that Riley was more mature and had an old soul herself. I think it was because she was just a dynamic and round character, who is well-developed.

But, I get first impressions. I feel like once you get stuck on an impression, it’s hard to go away from that.

Also, Jack would’ve totally shipped macriley, and you can’t change my mind.

3. "Riley isn't ready for a relationship"

I honestly think that this argument should be more geared towards Mac. He needs to figure himself out and go to therapy ffs. However, this person targeted Riley (the literal queen), so I shall defend her:

I understand wanting Riley to take some time off, and figure herself out before going straight into another relationship with someone. But here’s the thing. Throughout the first few seasons Riley’s character was very well established, and she didn’t have any partners during that time. She has proven that she is a strong, well-rounded, independent woman (with or without a partner). So i think it is valid to say that she isn’t just some girl who only has boy toys. She is much more than that.

My next point is that Riley has made it clear that she wants a lasting relationship with someone who will support her. When talking with Mac in 4.04, we see her express her interest in a stable, healthy relationship. It’s not wrong to go out and look for that potential partner. This applies to everyone (not just fictional characters): It’s going to take a few relationships and self-discovery, to find a good relationship, and people shouldn’t be shamed for searching for that.

Riley has only ever had two major boyfriends that I remember. First was Billy; she took that relationship very seriously. She really did seem happy with him. It was a shame that he cheated on her. Second was Aubrey. She also took that relationship very seriously. She had been living with him for six months (and they even had the cutest date nights!) So I wouldn't say that Riley only has boy toys. She has meaningful relationships.

Lastly, I think this was written when season four started airing, but it’s been over a year (and a pandemic) since Riley has dated. I think enough time has passed.

*4. I had to split this one up because, oh boy, there is a lot to unpack here.

4a. “If that was the direction they’d chosen to take with that relationship from square one… My issue with it is that Mac and Riley were presented to us as friends/ found siblings for three years. There were NO romantic vibes to speak of between them..”

I actually felt the same way about macriley. The thought of them being together in season one, made me want to throw up. I don’t think the writers intended on having macriley, and I was perfectly fine with that.

I know that people look for different things when they ship. Some really like having instant gratification with the spicy, hot, sexy parts of a relationship, like macdesi (which is why I was fine with the idea of shipping macdesi in the past).

I always wanted to see macriley do more: have hot, flirtatious banters/interactions. it can be hard to ship people who seem to be missing that part of the love equation. So i agree. It's definitely strange. And I understand if you genuinely have a hard time seeing the romantic potential of macriley, when the writers have only dragged out and shown us the platonic potential of them.

Also, the reason why it is difficult to see macriley as romantic, was because they ALWAYS PRIORITIZED AND WERE DRIVEN on their friendship. A partner should be friends first, and then makeout buddies second.

But just because people start off as friends, doesn’t mean that they still don’t have that potential to be lovers. Because guess what?! Feelings change. It’s now canon that Riley has feelings for Mac, and Mac always had feelings for Riley (but never acted on it).

I'm sorry, but you like a boomer when you say “bAcK iN mY dAy, tHeY dIdN’t HaVe fEeLiNgS fOr EaCh oThEr.” like okaAAAyyYYyYY????? We are not “back in your day” anymore. We are in the present. We are in today. And today, macriley is real :)

4b. “There’s the incredibly tired trope where long-term coworkers suddenly catch feelings for each other out of nowhere”

Personally, I will never get tired of the friends to lovers trope. I think the fact that Mac and Riley had such a strong friendship and foundation is what makes them perfect. Again, I know that some people just like instant gratification, but I love when a couple can take their time to have depth, emotion, and realness in their relationship.

Obviously I am biased because I have so much love for this trope, it's my favorite trope, but I don't see why you would use the “it’s overused” as reasoning to hate a ship. Just because a trope is used a lot, doesn’t mean it is bad (that’s probably why it is so good lmao). I can understand getting tired of it, and growing a dislike towards a trope. For example, I have grown an extreme dislike towards the love triangle.

A bit of a tangent: But the difference between overusing love triangles and overusing friends to lovers, is that love triangles aren’t just commonly used tropes. They are cliches. They cause unwanted drama and unnecessary hurt to one character. Whereas friends to lovers doesn’t involve as much drama and pain for a character. It is more of just angst between two people. And we know that they will get together eventually with a happy ending. So it was never really problematic.

And even then, the great thing about overusing or utilizing tropes, is that they can act as a guide. It allows the show writers and cast to make it personal, make it their own, adding their own special flair to it

I just don’t see the “this trope is used a lot” as a valid reasoning for disliking a ship .It just seems like this commenter doesn’t like the friends to lovers trope for the sake of not liking it.

I could be very wrong in my assumption of this person’s thoughts on friends to lovers, maybe there is a deeper reasoning as to why they don’t like it, but the tone that i interpreted when i read this section, was that they don’t have a real reason to dislike it, it’s more of just because.

4c.“then there's the fact that Riley had a mostly single Mac in her life for 3-4 years and she never even considered him romantically until he was with someone else”

First: Riley didn’t CHOOSE to fall in love. You may recall that “emotions aren’t a science. You can’t control them.”

Second: Mac was broken up with Desi when she caught feelings for him. Plus, the moment Riley saw that Mac and Desi were getting happy together, she moved out and gave them space. She sacrificed her own feelings for his happiness, despite the fact that her heart was breaking.

4d. “and finally, Mac not only still doesn't seem to even have Riley on his radar in that way but he literally told another woman that he loves her just last week. Neither of them look particularly good here if they get together now.”

I'm assuming that this was written when 4.12 first aired. I'm also assuming that this comment was more directed towards the idea of Mac and Riley getting together immediately at the end of the season, rather than later down the road. I always saw of macriley as more of endgame material. That i would see them get together sometime in the future. So I agree. Macriley getting together during that time period, would be too rushed and unsatisfying.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

So those were most of the supposed arguments that I saw for people who were against macriley, but I also wanted to provide some really good examples of people who were very respectable, and actually had valid reasoning for disliking them.

1. they just don’t like shipping in general

Ships can be annoying af. Seeing people ONLY focus on the ships is sometimes tiring. I, myself, even feel a little guilty making this post, because I need to chill and mind my own business lmaooo. I really should let people do whatever they want to do with their lives, and not get caught up in the ships, but here I am :p

Anyways, I know that there is a lot of unnecessary drama that comes with shipping, and it's tiring to see people constantly go on and on about romance, when there are other perfect things about the show.

2. No matter how hard they try, they just feel it.

This is literally so dumb (and a little hypocritical/self-contradictory), but if you have a gut feeling, and you just can’t get yourself to ship it, I get it. If you truly and genuinely believe that they are best platonic friends, I can't change your opinion. And I have respect for you (if you say it in a kind manner).

Here is a nice example of a person who expressed their opinion in a nice way, with no BS.

So the moral of the story: I can't control your deepest thoughts. I can't control your gut feelings. And that’s okay. But the moment that you start backing up your thoughts and insights with BS reasoning, is the moment that I lose respect for you.

#macriley #macgyver #sorry that was so freaking long

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