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sportsnightnut · 5 years

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double chocolate muffins and cigarettes

My Valentine’s Day Fic Exchange entry for Charnette (ScullyLovesQueequeg on AO3). A little angst, a little unrequited love, and not a lot of fluff, per her request. :)

Nicole ( @gaycrouton), thank you so much for setting up these fic exchanges. They are delightful and fun and I love this so much. <3

the you I miss does not exist, but I’ve never wanted anybody more than this -john mayer

It’s 5:53 on Thursday morning, and Dana Scully’s first thought is that she really, really, really wants a cigarette.

Her alarm isn’t supposed to go off for another seven minutes. She could’ve had seven more glorious, unconscious minutes where she wasn’t awake and she wasn’t thinking about him or it or anything . But her internal clock decided that wasn’t necessary, so now she’s here, awake, staring at the ceiling and contemplating which expletives best fit her mood this morning.

Scully throws the covers off, sliding off the bed and right into her slippers. She pads out to the living room and turns on the television, which is still on The Weather Channel from yesterday morning. She throws the remote unceremoniously on the couch and makes her way to the kitchen.

While she starts the coffee, she listens for the infamous “Local on the 8s” segment to advise her on what to wear today. For the end of February in Washington, it’s been unseasonably, and somewhat obnoxiously, warm. As she suspected, high of 51 today, which is practically balmy after last week’s snow showers and highs in the low 20s. Her sinuses are furious.

Scully’s shower this morning is quick, partially because she doesn’t care that much today, and partially because there’s been a lack of hot water in the building lately. She’s not about to risk an extra five minutes just in case it turns to ice

Black suit, white shirt, black heels, a swipe of lipstick, and she’s out the door at 7:06.

She doesn’t feel like driving today, so she takes the Metro, Yellow line to the Archives station. There’s a bakery she likes about a block in the opposite direction of work, and since it’s the kind of morning that calls for a muffin the size of her face, Scully stops there first before ducking into the pharmacy next door to grab a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

She smokes two on the walk back. At first, it burns her throat and her lungs, but then she decides she kind of likes the feeling, so she finishes the first and shakes out a second. Scully finds an odd sense of pleasure in grinding a cigarette butt into the concrete sidewalk, something she would normally find repulsive.

When she steps off the elevator and into the office (their office? his office?), she’s surprised to find that Mulder is already there, digging through a file cabinet. He turns around when he hears her open the door.

“Eight o’clock on the dot, Agent Scully,” Mulder remarks with a smile, the kind Scully can’t decide if she loves or hates because she can’t decide if it’s endearing or annoying. This morning, in particular, it feels annoying.

“Mmm,” she replies as she hangs her coat. Since he isn’t currently at the desk, Scully decides it’s hers for the moment and takes a seat, tearing open the paper bag to reveal the double chocolate muffin inside. She takes a bite, wiping the crumbs off her skirt onto the floor, before she reaches for her travel mug of coffee and takes a drink.

“Are you okay?” Mulder asks, and it’s this, this question, this seemingly innocent yet not so innocent question that causes Dana Scully to snap.

And she’s not sure if it’s because he asked it or if it’s how he asked it or why he asked it, but if she were asked to detail everything leading up to this moment that led her to react the way she did, here is what she would tell you:

One: she’s been surrounded by alpha male figures her entire life, the most notable being her father. Captain William Scully. Sometimes she wonders what it might’ve been like to grow up away from the military, away from the structure, the rigidity, the “you’ll do what you’re ordered to do” culture that dictated their family. What would it’ve been like to have a more benevolent father? Would it have made any difference? For her? For her brothers? For Maggie?

When she’d asked Maggie whether or not he was proud of her, all Maggie had said was: “He was your father.”

What was that supposed to mean? Was it just assumed that he was proud of her? As much as Scully doesn’t want to admit it, she was desperate for his approval, and she really needed to hear it from him. But now he’s gone, and she can’t ask that of a dead man.

Two : Sometimes it is really fucking exhausting to be a woman in a male-dominated field in a male-dominated organization in a male-dominated government in a male-dominated society. Could Dana Scully run circles around half the men in the FBI? Absolutely. Is she a better shot than half the men in the FBI? Absolutely. But does she also have to prove herself every day, far more than any of the men she works with ever have?

Absolutely.

Three: Maggie cannot seem to stop pestering her about “settling down,” especially now that she’s gasp turned thirty.

They had dinner for her birthday last Sunday; a nice, quiet, mother and daughter meal. Scully ordered a fancy salad with grilled salmon and an expensive glass of pinot grigio, and almost as soon as her fork pierced those first bites of lettuce, Maggie said “So, Dana…” and Scully tried so desperately not to roll her eyes because she knew exactly where Maggie was headed.

Maggie means well. Scully knows that she means well. It’s just that if Scully hadn’t already been slightly self-conscious about celebrating her thirtieth birthday by having dinner with her mother, she was as soon as those two words left Maggie’s lips.

Scully is a doctor. A board-certified physician who is also a badass, gun-wielding Special Agent for the FB-fucking-I and all she can think about right now is the fact that she isn’t married and she’s having her thirtieth birthday dinner with her mother.

Four: Speaking of that whole doctor thing.

Scully knew early on in life that she wanted to be a doctor. Heavily influenced by her parents, of course, though she felt she’d come to the decision on her own. She loved science and logic, and she also felt called to serve others; practicing medicine was the perfect blend of two things she truly loved.

And sometimes Scully would daydream about becoming a doctor; getting that white coat, making rounds in the hospital. Maybe specializing in surgery, maybe pediatrics, maybe pediatric surgery. And she’d meet a handsome fellow physician, and they’d be an absolutely adorable couple, eating lunch together in the cafeteria and consulting on each other’s cases.

Now she’s found herself in the basement of the Hoover building, daydreaming instead about the man sitting just feet from her. He’s not a doctor, no, but he’s incredibly well-educated in his own right, having attended Oxford and graduated with honors from the academy.

But that’s just it: all she’s done so far is daydream.

Five : Speaking of Mulder.

Sometimes he’s irritating. Really irritating. For a few different reasons, of course, one being the fact that he is obnoxiously tall. All six feet of him towering over her five-foot-three frame. Mulder likes to stand behind her, often when she’s performing autopsies. He’d tell you it’s because he finds it--and her--fascinating. Scully doesn’t know that, so it feels alot like he’s watching her every move, waiting for something that’ll prove he’s right and she’s wrong.

And Mulder can also be a bit of a condescending asshole.

But here’s the thing: he’s also really, really attractive. And really, really smart. And did she mention attractive?

Six: Scully finds herself coming to Mulder’s defense more often than not.

They’re not dating or in any kind of relationship other than “work partners,” yet Scully finds herself defending him and/or having to defend him. Regularly. To their colleagues, to Skinner, to random strangers who don’t know him. And having to do this all the damn time is starting to get irritating.

It��s not only because she’s tired of defending him. She’s also tired of other people not understanding Mulder; not knowing her partner well enough to see how intelligent he is and that really, he doesn’t need her to defend him. Sometimes people will listen to her more than they’ll listen to Mulder because she’s the logical, rational one, without stopping to consider that Mulder might actually have a point. Playing the role of defender is, quite honestly, wearing on her.

Seven: Scully has made some hints, both subtle and not-so-subtle, that she likes Mulder as more than a work partner.

But he’s either an idiot or he’s missed every single one of them.

Does she really need to stand so close to him? No.

Does she need to purposely touch his hand every time he passes over a file or gives her a pen? No.

Does she need to sit on the bed in his hotel room and pass takeout containers back and forth while they compare notes and work on their reports? No.

Does she need to linger even after they’ve finished their work and talk with him late into the night? Definitely not.

Does she need to wear that one suit she knows he really likes because she’s seen him look at her appreciatively in it several times? No.

Although she’d be lying if she said she didn’t do it on purpose and that she didn’t enjoy the butterflies-in-her-stomach feeling that accompanied Mulder’s appreciative (but not creepy) gaze.

Eight: Scully got stood up last night. On her birthday.

She shouldn’t have planned a date on her birthday. She knows better. It’s just that she was supposed to go on a date with this guy named Peter and he said he was available on Wednesday, so she agreed, deciding not to tell him it was her birthday.

He’d chosen an Irish pub for their date, which was a little out of Scully’s first date (and overall) comfort zone, but she decided to give it a go anyway. Why the hell not. Except, of course, for the part where Peter never showed up and never called to explain why.

So Scully sat at the bar, alone, with a few pints of beer and something called Irish Nachos to keep her company. She decided that if she was going to be stood up, she may as well make the most of it with a plate of waffle fries covered in cheese.

Along with the fact that she was stood up last night, she’s also thinking about the fact that yet another Valentine’s day has passed without a man. Without a partner, a significant other, someone to buy her a cheesy card and a box of chocolate and maybe some flowers.

She hates that she wants these things.

Eight point one : Cheap beer and cigarettes.

The cheap Irish beer was good last night. It was appropriate for the situation. It wasn’t a glass of “I’m on a date” red wine. It was three or so pints of “I don’t give a fuck” beer.

And something about this cheap beer made her crave cigarettes for the first time in over a decade. She knows they’re terrible for her and she shouldn’t want them, but she’s been frustrated out of her goddamn mind and they just sounded good.

She used to sneak cigarettes as a teenager, simultaneously exhilarated that she was breaking the rules while being terrified that her father was going to find out. It was rebellious, and it was wrong. It’s still wrong, both because smoking is terrible for you and because Dana Katherine Scully is a rule follower.

But she’s tired of following the rules. Tired of worrying about what’s good for her or bad for her. She just wants to do something without considering the consequences.

Which leads her to buy that giant double chocolate muffin, that pack of cigarettes, and that lighter.

Nine: Scully wishes, more than she would ever admit, that Mulder would just ask her out already.

She sees the way he looks at her. She knows the way she looks at him.

She’s mad about this, too, though. It’s adhering to these typical gender roles and procedures of “guy asks girl out.”

It’s 1994, damn it. She could ask him out if she wanted to, you know? Just walk into the office and say “Mulder, would you like to go to dinner with me?” And he’d say yes, and that would be the end of that. The end of that frustration and tension and that “will they won’t they” dance they keep doing around each other.

Ten: Scully doesn’t say that last part.

Instead, she says this: “Fuck off, Mulder.”

Mulder blinks several times, very slowly, as if he can’t process the words that have just come out of his partner’s mouth.

“I…” he starts, but doesn’t know what to say. Because he doesn’t know what he’s done. Because all he’s really guilty of is being hot and brilliant and really fucking distracting . Because he has nothing and everything to do with the nine other reasons she’s exhausted and frustrated and smells faintly of cigarette smoke.

Scully thinks maybe she should apologize, except she wouldn’t know where to begin. She’d have to go through all ten point one steps of everything leading up to her telling Mulder to fuck off. So she doesn’t. She takes a bite of her muffin and says nothing.

“I’m sorry,” Mulder says. “I didn’t...I didn’t mean…” he trails off. He’s apologizing and doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for.

Scully sighs. “Yeah. Me too. It’s fine. Let’s get to work, okay?”

It’ll be a long, long while--years, in fact--before Mulder finally understands what all of this was about.

#xf fic #my fic #early seasons unrequited love #sportsnightnut

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brownskinsugarplum76 · 5 years

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Eye of the Storm, Ch 3

Here is the next part of the story. Here's the link to the master post for the first two chapters.

This chapter continues to look into Robert and Maggie's feelings and their past, and where things might go between them in the future. No smut, but there is innuendo, verbal and physical. 😉😎

Thank you so much to @firethatgrewsolow for the sanity check and advice. ❤️❤️❤️

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Maggie parked and found herself staring at a small building with windows for walk-up orders. Lines of people were patiently waiting their turn. Anyone driving by would have known in an instant that it was an ice cream shop, by the large statue on top of the building. It was an ice cream cone with cartoon eyes, a Cheshire grin, and gangly arms and legs, a frozen confection caricature that was frozen in a dancing pose.

“I first noticed this place on a ride back from LA, and I made Benji stop,” said Robert, while he and Maggie continued to sit in the car.

“I can picture you, dying to be first in line and racing to the window,” Maggie teased.

“You know me, I always go hard for what I want,” he said with a maddeningly sly smile. “But alas, my ankle was uncooperative, and Benji wasn't a good sport about getting to the front. So your cherished Golden God queued up like everyone else.”

“Referring to yourself in third person, are you now? Maybe your pain meds need to be reduced?”

“Where's the fun in that?” The sly smile returned. “No, I'm basically off of those. I'm running on my standard chemical enhancements. And my favorite natural high, of course.”

“Well, it's official, folks: Mr. Sex, Drugs, and Rock & Roll is back to normal.”

“As normal as I can ever truly be,” he quipped with self-deprecation. “But yes, I'm mobile, I've got time to burn, and I'll be on vacation, as far as I'm concerned. I'm looking forward to shacking up, as it were, with you, during this last bit of down time.”

“It really has been too long,” Maggie agreed.

“And I'd really love to keep this thing going after the music hoopla kicks in. Having a girl who can understand the highs and the lows of being an artist--having that person be you--would mean the world to me. And I'd love to be there for you, too, if you'd let me.”

He stared intently at Maggie and sighed. “You know, I missed a big opportunity when I moved here… I should've reached out to you then. I wasted a lot of time.”

“I'm glad you brought that up. Why didn't you call? You always did before. It was disappointing to have to read about it in Rolling Stone.” Maggie looked expectantly at Robert.

“All I wanted to do when I got here was to forget everything. We had to cancel the final leg of what was an exciting tour, which was most disappointing. But Cole damn near had to pick roaches off me in the hospital and bribe our way out of Greece.”

He brushed his hair out of his eyes and turned toward the window. “And then I could barely say goodbye to my friends and my parents before the taxman would've grasped me by my collar and waylaid me with highway robbery. All of Great Britain's greatest musicians are in America now, you know, and not by choice,” he said, turning back to Maggie with a pained expression on his face.

“I read about that… Either stay away, or lose a fortune.”

“Exactly. Tough choice, that, convalesce among my loved ones and be left with fuck all in my bank account, or retain the spoils of conquering the world, but be left without most of my favorite people around… I knew where my head was at, and I feared you wouldn't have wanted to be around me.”

“I can understand your concern. It's very rare that you're not giving off a sunny disposition. But you wouldn't have scared me off that easily.” She placed a reassuring hand on Robert's thigh.

“I really thought I was making the right choice. But sometimes… I mean, Jimmy was camped a stone's throw away in his place, and Cole and Benji kept my time occupied with all the revelry I could handle, but it was lonely for me, even though I was never alone, you know?”

He searched Maggie's eyes before continuing, looking more weary than she'd ever remembered seeing him before.

“And don't get me started on damn physical therapy. I'm grateful to them, for sure, but bloody hell, they were absolute sadists! It got pretty dark for me, for a lot of reasons. I even wondered if all these crazy coincidences meant I was cursed, or something...”

“I'm sorry to hear things got so heavy for you. What a lot of feelings and physical challenges to deal with…” Maggie was still, processing Robert's words and fighting the burning sensation of tears in her eyes.

“Simply put, I was wrong. Seeing you has always been the highlight of my time on the West Coast. You're a hell of a woman, love. You're sweet, and a creative dreamer, but you never compromise on what you want. You put up with me, and my silly, spoiled rock star ways. You always put a smile on my face when we talk. And then, the delights of your beautiful, curvy body…” He looked at her with a gaze that cycled through a number of emotions: love, regret, joy, lust.

Maggie smiled and blushed at his words of devotion but also felt an insistent flutter in her core as carnal memories flashed through her mind.

“I let my mood and my nerves get the best of me,” Robert continued. “But no more. I want to make up for lost time. Let's play house, shall we? Let's wake up together, have fun excursions, let the sun warm us head to toe on the beach, enjoy night caps, and more, in the Jacuzzi…”

He smiled softly and caressed her cheek. “And then we can live through what comes after that, just us, together or apart on tour, for as long as it works. What do you say, señorita?”

“I'd really like that,” Maggie said, grasping and squeezing Robert's hand. “And I would love for ‘this thing,’ as you call it, to keep going for as long as we can.”

“My sweet Mags.” He couldn't contain his smile as he leaned in for a kiss.

She savored his words, warm as the sun that hovered in the afternoon sky without the shroud of a single cloud around it. It was what she had longed to hear from him over their years of off-and-on connection, a desire for something more solid, defined. She wanted to stay enveloped in the fantasy of the picture he painted with his words. She had to believe that she wouldn't be burned by his promises later.

“So, what do you recommend here?” she asked, shutting the car door behind her as she stood. She was trying her hardest to stay in the present and not get swept away by guesses about what their future might hold. She also, reluctantly, realized she needed to curtail the indecent thoughts of Robert that just as forcefully battled for prominence in her mind. It had been way too long since his touch ignited electric sparks of lust through her body. It was maddening to be so close to him but so far from the ensnarement of his thighs, the pressure of his body on top of hers, the fullness of him inside--

“--All of the flavors are delicious,” Robert said, peering over the car at her and interrupting her thoughts, “but if I had to choose? I like the classics: vanilla, chocolate, strawberry.”

“All at once, I'm sure. Some things never change...”

“Hey!” Robert protested. “While I'm on the mend, dairy is even more important for my bones, innit?”

“You've won your case, Mr. Plant.” She couldn't help but laugh. “OK, let's get a little closer, so I can check out the menu.”

They joined a line. Maggie had her eyes on the menu, but most everyone else had their eyes on Robert or were whispering to someone about him.

It didn't take long for the more courageous admirers to descend upon him, expressing their love of him and his band. Pens were produced, and napkins, bus schedules, anything the fans could get their hands on for him to sign. A few raced to their cars to procure eight-tracks, cassette cases, and cameras.

Robert was all smiles and thank-yous among his people. He confirmed for the crowd that the next Led Zeppelin album “would be out in a little more than a fortnight,” but that touring would likely come much later. “I'm still getting my sea legs back after my accident,” he explained. The crowd was sated, for the time being, by the interaction with their idol and the promise of a comeback album.

Maggie had lived this experience before, of fans wanting to share their favorite Led Zeppelin concert memories with Robert, or living a few seconds of fantasy by taking any conceivable opportunity to touch him. But now, she fantasized about this excitement someday being the reality for her band. She hoped they could achieve even a tiny fraction of the success that Led Zeppelin had.

She and Robert made their way to the front of the line. Others came and interacted with him. “I'll have a mint chocolate chip cone, please,” Maggie said to the girl behind the counter. “And for him--”

“--Vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry scoops. On the house for both of you, with all this business he's bringing in!” The girl smiled and stared longingly at Robert. “How's his ankle doing? Poor baby.”

Maggie considered the teenage girl, who was surrounded by an invisible cloud of Love's Baby Soft and swathed in a pink velour sweatsuit under her uniform smock. She wore a hair net over her ash-blonde mane, and Maggie would bet anything that a feathered hairdo would emerge from its workplace moorings after closing.

“Much better. We just came from a soccer game, and he was standing the whole time.”

“Lucky you! I've only seen him with the leg brace before. You're new… He has come here a lot, but there's always a different girl…”

Maggie blinked and considered the even expression on the girl's face. Was it an absent-minded observation, or did the girl intend to hurt her? Maggie mulled it over. Either way, she wasn't going to let it get to her.

“Well, if we're back out this way, you just might see me again. I'm Maggie.” She smiled sweetly before taking both cones and walking away. The girl's words caught Maggie off guard. Although Robert would never be free of admirers, all signals from him indicated that he wanted to put Maggie first. But she knew he had not been alone all this time. She had to be realistic.

She had enjoyed the shooting star path he blazed across her life on tour visits, leaving her to reconnect with reality alone when the time was over. She couldn't help but wonder if his feelings this time would shift like an impermanent mountain of sand once he was back in the thick of tour life, or if she would be tossed indefinitely between his romantic desires and her professional dreams, his tinge of melancholy and her giddy anticipation. Only time would tell.

“OK, Golden God, here's your dessert,” she said, snapping out of her spiraling thoughts and handing Robert his cone.

“This lady says that's all for me today, I'm afraid.” He shrugged his shoulders and smiled apologetically to the crowd before walking back to the car with Maggie, holding the ice cream with one hand and lightly grasping her waist with the other.

“Never mind the bollocks from those bloody punk bands, our fans are still solidly in place,” Robert concluded with the flashiest of smiles.

“How lovely to be so wanted still! And your turn is coming next, Mags. We'll have some press interviews coming up, and I'll be sure to mention the new sensation coming out of San Diego as a personal favorite!”

“Robert, I appreciate that, but you don't have to--”

“--No, I insist, dear! I love your music, and it's the least I can do for you. Oh, by the way, do you have any shows around here anytime soon?” He turned his attention to his ice cream, and not a moment too soon. It had started to melt a little while he was talking.

“Next Friday,” said Maggie.

“I must come to your rehearsal! It's been so long since I've seen my sexy songbird on a proper stage.”

“I'd like that a lot. And, you know what else I would love?”

“What's that?” Robert asked.

“I'd love for you to help me pull together some stage outfits.”

“I know just the place. But let me donate some of my jewelry to the cause, too.”

“Really? Thanks!” She nuzzled into his embrace of her.

“It's not entirely altruistic,” he responded from above, still hugging her close. “I might make you model them for me, so I can see what looks best against your skin. Sans clothes, bien sûr,” he added, his voice softened to his trademark hypnotic murmur. “No distractions…”

“Por supuesto, of course.” Maggie wasn't sure what made her feel weaker: Robert's French, which was less heavily chained to his British accent than before, or his sexy fashion show idea. Either way, she was burning to be alone with him.

“So, next, it's back to yours, grab your things, and drive off into the sunset to my place.”

“That's right. And you'll see my brother Victor again. We live together.”

“How's he doing these days?” Robert asked, switching his attention back to the ice cream.

“Fine. He's just as excited as I am to have this opportunity. He's also driving the neighbors crazy, practicing his drumming all times of the day and night.”

“Shades of young John Henry Bonham,” Robert said, reflecting on his youth with a smile.

Maggie was busy with her ice cream cone. “I see why you go out of your way to come here,” she said, back at the car. “It's not for the cashier; it's this sinfully delicious ice cream.” She sighed after taking another lick of the irresistible cone. She also couldn't resist probing Robert's thoughts about his enthusiastic fan.

“Totally the ice cream, love. Young Gwen over there, she's just a friend who indulges my sweet tooth from time to time.” He waved and smiled at Gwen, who still had her eyes on him. “With dessert,” he quickly added. “I'm sure she turns into an LA queen at night, but I'm not her king… Enough about her. I'd like you, talented woman, to show me how much you really enjoy this ice cream cone.”

“Sure. I am feeling pretty hungry and impatient, so I'm going to bite a big chunk out of it like this…”

He grimaced. “Whoa, not at all what I had in mind, love!”

She smirked at his reaction to her teasing. “But now I'll take my time…” she closed her eyes and slowly licked up one side of the cone, and then all around. She continued traversing the scoop of ice cream while Robert watched and licked his cone when he wasn't too busy smiling wickedly at the sight before him and the memories of her busy tongue on his sensitive skin. “Mmmmm… I miss getting the special treatment from you...”

“Your wait will be over soon. And mine,” she said with a wink. In a few hours they would be entangled, mind, body, and soul again, at his beachfront hideaway, and Maggie could hardly wait.

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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary.

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hellyeahomeland · 6 years

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[Hi! We’re back. We haven’t done a Director’s Chair feature since “R is for Romeo” so please bear with us as we get back into the swing of it. This week’s episode was directed by Michael Klick, who has been a producer on the show since the very beginning and directed his first episode last year (“The Flag House,” which you can read our Director’s Chair feature on here). The DP for this episode was Giorgio Scali, who, along with David Klein, heads up the photography department on the show.]

“Standoff” | Directed by Michael Klick

The episode opens not with a shot of Carrie’s face, but of her hands. Her manic energy--she’s restless and can’t stop fidgeting--is further highlighted by what we hear but don’t yet see: those signature Carrie Mathison huffs and puffs. The device reminded us of the reveal of manic Carrie in “The Vest,” as Saul hears her gradually loudening yelling about her green pen before the camera finally reveals her battered and bruised face.

Our first glimpse of the compound in this episode comes as the fleet of FBI vehicles approach. That yellow “Don’t Tread on Me” flag was a major symbol of the American revolution. Notably missing: the American flag.

Next, JJ and a clearly happy dog appear down one half of a forked road. This fork in the road, and the hesitation and impasse associated with that image, come to represent the main thematic elements of this episode, at least as it pertains to Saul and O’Keefe. These two men (themselves with massively divergent paths) face major decisions in this episode and their storyline is wrapped up in their “wait and see” approach to the brewing confrontation on the compound.

As Saul and JJ meet, we get the first of many medium or wide shots that Klick and Scali use in the episode, showing two characters in this kind of symmetrical yet combative stance. Saul’s on one side, and O’Keefe and his “army” are on the other.

We also got some season one vibes from the scene of Carrie and Maggie in Maggie’s kitchen. Carrie’s ensuing panic attack and Maggie’s calm brings us back to the end of “Blind Spot” when Carrie shows up on Maggie’s doorstep, distraught.

Sara’s notes here were simply “cool ass shots.” We don’t really have much more to say but the focus shift in this scene from O’Keefe to Saul was some fancy camerawork. Kudos!

As this is our first Director’s Chair for season seven, let’s talk about how they’re shooting Keane this season. Namely, it’s exactly the same as they shot her last season! Tons of close-ups where she’s just inches away from her adversary (or advisor, as it were) -- literally mano a mano. The camera angle even contributes to the power dynamics at play here, as they typically film Keane slightly from below, so it appears she’s looking down on Wellington.

Keane has always been shown as a principled, rigid politician when it comes to her policies. What’s changed, of course, is what those policies are. The way she talks to Wellington here is almost identical to how she talked to Dar Adal last year: perpetually in confrontation mode, and never backing down.

Nothing to add here but what do we think is in the box in Carrie’s closet labeled “GREY”? All of her grey pantsuits? Her Grey’s Anatomy DVD boxsets? PROP MASTERS OF HOMELAND, PLEASE LET US KNOW.

~IJLTP~

Last year we evaluated the contents of Carrie’s refrigerator, and this season we’re getting even more personal. Just what the heck is in Josie Mathison-Dunn’s medicine cabinet? (Also, guess Bill’s last name is Dunn. We still want to call him Bill Mathison.)

First, some Mario Badescu Skincare products. Sara has literally never heard of this man. We have an aloe, cucumber, and green tea cucumber spray. Also an aloe, herbs, and rosewater facial spray. (Side note: what is “facial spray”? Sara has also never heard of this.)

A bottle of Murad Razor Burn Rescue at the far left.

That tube in the middle with the happy-go-luck young woman is Benefit Pore Fessional Minimizer. Gail says this smells really good and works wonders. Sara has never heard of this product before but she does get her eyebrows waxed at the Benefit Cosmetics stores in NYC and really likes them and all the millennial pink and calm vibes there.

That tiny blue bottle next to the nail polish (speaking of nail polish, Sara calls BS that a teen as moody as Josie has bright pink and purple nail polish. WWDBD?) is Too Faced Shadow Insurance, which is some sort of eyelid primer. Once again, Sara has never heard of it and Gail hasn’t used it (“I’m a Smashbox girl!”). We do both love that the prop department found a product called “Too Faced.” We see what you did there.

Our thoughts on the cosmetic and facial care portions of Josie’s medicine cabinet can be described thusly:

Sara: I’m sorry but do teenage girls have this many products in their medicine cabinets? Is this a thing? Did she pick this up in Rome? Am I just that out of touch??

Gail: There is no way a teenage girl that owns a shadow primer only has one make-up brush in her arsenal. Sorry, not buying it.

Josie also has three meds in her cabinet. The first is Isotretinoin, which according to the world wide web is used for treating severe acne.

The second bottle is of course Adderall.

We think the third bottle is Methylphenidate (the generic name for Ritalin), which, like Adderall, is used to treat ADHD.

We get the second Carrie mirror shot in as many episodes. This is just one in a long trend on this show (i.e., it is the thirty-seventh but certainly not the last!). And while the mirror and hair length may change, the tone and meaning of them almost never does. She’s steeling herself here--for an inevitable crash, for another day of a waking nightmare, for the descent further into the rabbit hole.

The Saul/O’Keefe confrontation is notable for a few reasons. First, again Klick and Scali shoot almost the entire sequence in a series of medium or wide shots where both characters are contained in the shot yet standing opposite each other. There are almost no shot/reverse shot cuts where we see a frame of just Saul and then one of just O’Keefe. They are literally in a standoff.

The progression of their stance is also interesting. As Saul first approaches O’Keefe, he’s standing on the opposite side of the picnic table. As their conversation continues, he comes around to O’Keefe’s side and sits next to him.

The wider shots in this scene also reveal the imbalance at play and, in hindsight, hint at O’Keefe’s long game. Behind Saul, we see the FBI in the distance, ready to pounce. In a show of power, the FBI has numbers, large vehicles, and a coordinated presence. The playing field isn’t even. O’Keefe only has a handful of supporters, including some young children. Abandoned bicycles, an empty picnic table, and an over-turned red wagon depict a typical rural yard of an American family. This is not a war zone in some faraway place. The country is in a civil war and Klick sets the scene to drive this point home--literally.

Sara picked up on this facial reaction upon first viewing--after Dante says his bipolar ex-girlfriend left him--but couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. Gail chipped in with a simple explanation: it’s her appreciation of his empathy, which is not something she’s that used to in her daily life. Carrie still views her bipolar disorder as a reason not to be with her--those wounds may be buried, but they exist nonetheless. The jury remains out on whether Dante’s intentions are altruistic or not, but this moment was interesting nonetheless.

The sequence of Carrie resisting being booked was a powerful reminder of early season three, where she is restrained and drugged against her will (though as part of a larger “play”). When you combine this with the images we’ll see weekly in the opening credits, what does this tell us about the path Carrie’s going down?

Here we have yet another shot where the camera is shooting Keane from slightly above. This angle further illustrates the tension (they are literally not seeing each other “eye to eye”) and power dynamics of their relationship. It’s clear that Keane does not see them as equals (nor should she, to be honest).

With each episode this season, Carrie is more isolated and alone. Here she’s locked inside a sterile and dark room all by herself, bolstering her current estrangement from anything resembling a normal life. These shots especially call back to the end of “Tower of David,” when she’s crouched and alone in her room in the hospital. The combination of these images, their heavy parallel to past seasons, and Carrie’s comment to Maggie about a “locked ward” leads to a potent sense of foreboding.

This is a totally gorgeous shot--the blue and red in the background and the way Carrie is lit from behind. Sometimes this show is really visually arresting.

Klick and Scali film Carrie and Dante here just as they shot Saul and O’Keefe earlier in the episode. The wide shot with both characters in frame suggests the same adversarial “standoff” stance, and yet the moment itself seems on the surface healing and supportive. Have we mentioned the show is giving us mixed messages about Dante?

We don’t have to remind you all of the parallels between this scene and the one with Carrie and Quinn at the end of “Still Positive,” but we will anyway. Even the shed in the back is red!

The final shot of the episode, an absolutely beautiful wide shot, again depicts both characters in frame. Dante looks over at Carrie while she stares straight ahead. And despite the light in the background (Quinn’s “light on the headlands, steering [her] clear of the rocks”?), Carrie is still shown in the dark. Again we must ask, is there more going on with Dante than she realizes?

The score used at the end of this episode was originally used at the end of “The Star” (and later at the end of “The Man in the Basement”) when Carrie draws a star on the wall for Brody. The use of it in this scene, along with the visual callbacks to a famous scene with Quinn, combine to form a strange and eerie amalgam of Carrie’s past romances. Brody’s music and Quinn’s words. Where does Dante fit into this equation and what is the show trying to say? For now, those remain open questions.

Finally, the colors in this last shot--red, white, and blue--feel symbolic. Carrie is forever fighting for the country she loves--the country she feels an innate duty to protect--even to her own detriment. In this episode alone she sacrifices her mental health, yet again, to continue on with this battle. As the bright lights illuminate the sky against a brilliant backdrop of the colors of the American flag, the music viewers have come to associate with loss, broken promises, and missed chances swells.

Our freedom doesn’t come free. And Carrie has chosen her price.

ETA: Ashley would like us to point out that we missed the Clean & Clear in Josie’s cabinet and that cabinets are entirely her domain for all future reference. We deeply and sincerely apologize, Ashley.

#homeland #homelandedit #in the director's chair #michael klick #standoff #by: sara #by: gail #*#PHEW

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i-may-have-a-point · 7 years

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Review of 14x08 “Out of Nowhere”

I FINALLY sat down last night and watched the mid-season finale. I purposely didn’t watch live, but life kept me busy, too, so sorry for the delay.

Before I get in to my thoughts on Grey’s, I want to ask does anyone watch Chicago Med? I kept reading that Chicago Med did this storyline, so I found the episode to compare how similar they are. Um…guys. In no way do I think that Grey’s Anatomy needs to “borrow” ideas from other shows, but the similarities are eyebrow raising. I have only watched a couple of other episodes of Chicago Med, so I don’t know the characters or their stories well. I did notice that they have characters named April and Maggie, and that was enough to mess with my head in itself, but the episode had so many similarities, I felt like I was watching an alternate reality Grey’s. Early in the episode, all of the monitors/tablets/etc. lock out the doctors and then a cryptic message pops up on all of them stating that someone else has control of their network until the hospital pays a certain amount of bitcoin. Granted, this may be standard hacker lingo, but it made me squint pretty hard at my screen. The wise, older, chief of the hospital gathers everyone to explain the situation, and a doctor asks how they will get things done. Our wise chief explains that things used to be done back in the day with paper and pen and the distribution of the clipboards begins. A male doctor who, similar to Jackson, has a trust fund and is in an interracial relationship, chimes in that he thinks they should just pay the ransom. And while I could explain all of this away with coincidence, there was one scene that was so similar to one on Grey’s that I watched it twice to be sure. Remember Webber’s newspaper trick for the IV bag with blood in it? Same thing happens in the Chicago Med episode. I’m not kidding. So is all of this coincidence? I don’t know, but if you have time to watch the Chicago Med episode, let me know what you think.

Alright, let’s get to it.

Unimportant thoughts:

Every time I see the interns, I wonder which ones will be killed off this season. So far, I am liking Glasses and Sam, and I hope they stay.

Was it intentional that Maggie’s patient had the same name as her Tinder date?

The idea that April and Owen worked in a war zone, but can’t figure out how to be doctors without computers is eye roll worthy.

IT guy Tim is either the hacker or just a genuinely socially awkward person.

Carina and Arizona have chemistry. Sam and Deluca have chemistry. I know the showrunners are capable of seeing chemistry. So, why…nevermind.

Why was that birth scene so anti-climactic? I wasn’t worried or excited or happy or anything. It was missing something. Build-up maybe?

Jesse. What are you doing, boo? This man can act. He emotes every imaginable feeling with Sarah. He had hilarious, genuine scenes with Mark and Ben. Is he tanking this on purpose or is the lack of chemistry that bad?

Ben/Bailey – This story didn’t get much attention besides Ben’s workout scenes in the opening voiceover, and Bailey telling Webber she was mad he let Ben use the fire academy as a fellowship year. The only thing I got out of that line being dropped was that if the spin off fails, Jason George has an easy way to come back Grey’s. Always nice to have a fallback plan, I guess.

Meredith – “You win a Harper Avery, and you barely have any time for surgery anymore.” Meredith is annoyed at all the attention winning this award is giving her, and I’m annoyed that she’s annoyed. I just can’t feel sorry for her that people want to praise her too much. Amelia saying, “Not a real problem,” in response to her complaining was one of my favorite lines of the episode. Not only because it was like Amelia channeled my inner thoughts, but also because it is another example of how post-tumor Amelia is still exactly the same person as before and the writers have changed nothing about who she is besides her relationship with Owen.

Jolex – I love that Jo is Chief Resident, but like I said before, I don’t feel like I can feel proud of her because she basically got it by default. We all know if Jerrika had stayed on the show, she would have been Chief Resident, and there would have been multiple scenes of characters explaining to Jo that Stephanie is the better doctor. That said, I laughed when Jo was telling the interns not to be stupid, slow or make her look bad, to which Webber says that her speech needs work. Jo may never be Bailey, but she has the potential to be a great leader. I think their story, both the little boy and Paul returning, was the only interesting part of the episode, and the only story worthy of a mid-season finale.

Deluca and Sam – I’m ready for them to give us more than them having sex all over the hospital. I want to like them, but I need more right now. At least they have chemistry though. If they are going to throw a couple together without any explanation, at least, in this case, they have chemistry.

Awkward elevator scene – This recreation of the Mark/Derek/Mer/Addison/Rose elevator scene with Owen/Carina/Arizona/April made me half-smile, until I realized in the first scenario everyone was involved in the weird relationship mess, but in the second scenario April was only thrown in because she has no other story in this episode, but the show knows she is comedy gold. Sigh.

Webber/Bailey/Surgical Contest- Looks like Webber is going to be running the contest. That is unless this ransom thing ruins the contest, which I sincerely hope it doesn’t because it is one of the few storylines in the past season and a half that I have a little hope for.

Maggie/Jackson – Do the writers actually have a plan here? We have gotten so much conflicting information here that I have to wonder. One of two plans are being played out, but which one is it?

Plan One – The writers are actually trying to make Maggie and Jackson a thing.

Plan Two – This is all a terribly executed plan that will lead to Jackson and April finding their way back together.

But if we look at what we have to go on, there is no clear direction or answer. Debbie Allen said recently that this is a love triangle, Krista certainly hasn’t had many positive things to say about Japril online, and Jackson and Maggie have had more scenes together than Bokhee and Meredith. At this point If something is going to happen with Maggie and Jackson, what are they waiting for?? There are only so many chemistry tests they can do. Especially when they are failing all of them. And I refuse to believe that the show thinks they see some magic spark that 99% of the fans don’t. They call them family and siblings, but then have them say vague lines that make us wonder what they are actually talking about. It’s like the show is trolling the audience. They know they won’t work as a couple, but people are so against it, they are just trying to get a reaction now. There is zero chance that they posted a photo of Jackson and Maggie with the caption, “This is creepy,” and didn’t expect a reaction. Not to mention, none of the actors are promoting this ship. Jeanine Mason has played Sam for like an hour and she has been online talking ship names with fans. Jesse and Sarah, aside from a couple of Jesse troll moments, only like and share Japril tweets, while Kelly either ignores it all or likes ambiguous tweets about the story. If the actors don’t even talk about it online because they know there will be backlash, why in the world would the show go forward with it? And now we have confirmation that Sarah and Jesse are filming together again. So, was that planned all along? Was there a shift in the story because they saw it was failing? Was it meant to fail all along? Then we have Maggie and April looking for dates on Tinder and Jackson moping about not being able to buy happiness, so he buys everything else. And hey, while we’re at it, let’s bring in a stunt double for Sarah and bring Matthew back because things aren’t weird enough right now. And if they are trying to create moments between Maggie and Jackson, why do they keep ruining those same moments? Catherine walking in on them talking and calling Maggie his sister is believable, but the helicopter would have been the perfect opportunity to move this along. But they didn’t. Instead we got more flat, awkward conversation until the universe literally made them shut-up. Why is the show getting in the way of these moments unless it is intentional? Because it sure isn’t creating a slow burn. I have never seen a non-ship crash and burn as quickly as this one.

So, we’ll hang in there a little longer because that’s how much we love and appreciate Sarah/April and Jesse/Jackson. Hopefully the second half of the season brings stories they deserve.

#grey's anatomy #14x08

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magnificentmisfits · 7 years

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Fighting || A Misfits Drabble

Fighting begins with the will to live

Fight

It was the third time she tried to run away. Aiko didn’t know why. The fourteen year old just felt that she had to get away. Far away. Far away. If she ran fast enough, far enough, then she’d find the world where her mother was alive. A world free of villains that killed mothers and left their children all alone.

“Aiko!”

No. She wasn’t going back. She couldn’t.

It was unfortunate how fast her father was.

By the time he was able to get a hold of her, she thrashed in his arms. Thrashed and screamed and dug her heels in like a bloody child. She expected him to bodily drag her away like last time, pleading for her to calm down.

Instead he tightened his hold, a hand on her hair.

Eventually her hysterics subsided. She hadn’t realized she had been crying until she felt the dampness of her tears from where they had soaked into his shirt. Her breathing came out in hiccups, she sank against him.

When he was assured of her calm, he scooped her up, quietly carrying her through the trees back home. She fell asleep minutes later.

Fight

Her brother was right. She certainly looked like their mother when she blossomed into her womanhood. Raven hair framed a round face as Aiko examined her reflection. Soft lips and gentle eyes peered back at her. Aiko blinked, and she could have sworn she saw her mother smile at her in the reflection.

Fingers tightened around the dagger in her hand.

Aiko raised the blade to her neck, and with a deep breath-

shunk!

A handful of raven hair fell to the floor….

A few moments later and Aiko was staring at a complete stranger. The ends of her cut hair brushed her cheeks, her head feeling lighter.

Aiko stood, relieved, and made her way out of her room. Of course her mother would always remain with her, but no longer as a ghost that would haunt her.

Fight

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe.The world was cold and dark and metal when he woke up. Oh god…..how did he find him? How did his father find him? Fear strangled him as he slammed his fists against the panel on the side of the door, willing it to open. It opened with a woosh and he scrambled free.

Men in uniform turned with a start. They shouted something at him, and Charles panicked. When did his father start employing people? What were those weapons they were holding?

He didn’t wait to find out, he sprinted down the corridor away from them. The sounds of their footsteps thudding after him spurred him to run faster. Another armed man tried to stop him. Charles threw him against the wall. Another ended up with a broken wrist.

Cold air flushed his skin when he made it outside. He sucked in a desperate breath as he collapsed on his knees.

“Don’t shoot!” a voice cried out desperately. And Charles was confused. He wasn’t going to shoot at anyone. Unless…

A hand hovered near his vision. Charles thrashed, but the hand was quicker, and soon he found his wrists in a tight grip.

“Charles…”

No, he wasn’t going back

“Charles!”

He couldn’t….

“Charles!”

He blinked through the tear filled vision, a familiar face coming to view. Brunette hair, warm eyes wrinkled with concern.

Charles nearly choked.

“Mom?”

The realiziation of his actions sank in. The haze of fear and panic faded. His mind began to turn with realization. The helicarrier. SHIELD. His mother.

“It’s okay” he heard her whisper as she pulled the 13 year old close, stroking his hair and whispering comfort to him. “It’s okay” she assured him as the tears fell. “It’s okay. You’re safe”

Fight

The adrenaline from standing in a flying plane was always therapeutic in Charles’ mind. He could stand atop the helicarrier and feel the breeze for hours.

The ramp lowered in front of him, the landscape below him flying by.

“Ready?” His mother stood on the other side. suited up, gun strapped to her side. Charles knew he couldn’t have asked for a better partner, and replied to her question with a grin.

“Race you to the bottom!” he shouted over the noise of plane engines and rushing wind, the now young adult man bolting to the edge of the ramp and diving off, missing the way his mother shook her head with a grin before following suit.

Fight

She wanted it to stop. She wanted everything to stop. Make it stop, Her mind begged whatever god was listening. Please make it stop.

It had been the picture that drove her over. The picture of her and Michael sitting side by side at a family reunion. Guitars were in hand, the two siblings beaming at the camera without a care in the world.

She had sent it flying across the room.

Her mother had raced upstairs at the sound, and was now restraining her daughter, who was pitching a fit now.

“Maggie!” Her mother begged.

“It should have been me!” throat burned from her screaming, knuckles throbbed and some even bled from her hysterical pounding against the wall. “It should have been me!” violent sobs racked her body, and she would have punished her fists against the wall more if her mother hadn’t seized her wrists, pulling her daughter flush against her.

“It should have been me!” she cried, her hands slipping to wrap around her stomach, as if protecting herself from unbearable pain.

Fight

“Maggie there’s no need” Rachel reassured her little cousin, placing another folded pair of kiddie pants on top of the growing pile on the couch. They’d find their way in the boxes soon enough.

“There’s definitely a need. I don’t see why it’d be a bad idea” Maggie countered, smiling fondly at a tiny pair of hands that waving impatiently at her. Maggie grinned as she reached down to lift Leila into her lap, planting a fat kiss on the toddler’s cheek.

“I already talked to mom and dad, and they think it’s a great idea, plus all that money that would have to pay for room and board could be saved” She continued while trying to meet Rachel’s eyes. Though it was a bit difficult what with her goddaughter insisting on playing peekaboo by covering maggie’s face.

“Maggs, as great as it would be to have you live with me-”

“Rach, I love you, and I love the little tikes” she interrupted, punctuating her words with a playful poke to Leila’s tummy. “You don’t have to do this on your own, y'know?”

She braced herself for another argument, but instead found herself watching her cousin briskly wipe at her eye before turning to smile at her.

“I know”

Fight

You left me to do this alone. I can’t forgive you for leaving me to do this alone.

Rachel never realized how lonely hospital rooms could get. It would feel too clean, to organized. Not at all natural or homey. When her family left, of course the loneliness settled in. But there was a presence missing that made it even more profound.

Her eyes wandered to the wedding ring sitting on the nightstand next to her bed. Lonely without it’s partner, like her.

Sam went back home with her parents, and Leila had been taken to the nursery by the nurses.

Her mother, her father, even Maggie and her sisters. Each held the newest member of the family and when they lifted their eyes to hers, Rachel knew what they were thinking.

She looked like her father.

You just had to leave me alone, didn’t you Ethan? She thought bitterly.

Fight.

“The sign says closed, my friend!” the voice called out politely yet impatiently. “If you’re looking to sign up for a class you’re more than welcome to come back tomorrow!”

“And what about job offers?” Rachel replied with humor.

A beat of silence passed before she heard footsteps racing towards the door, metal shifting and clicking into place as the door was unlocked, swinging open to reveal a friendly face.

“Rachel” Sebastian’s eyes were wide with surprise before his face broke into a grin, his hands grabbing hers and pulling her inside. “I’m glad to see you. This is great, this is so great”

He led her to the back of the studio where his office was located, pulling out the drawers of his desk to find the appropriate forms she needed to fill out. As he did this he went on and on about how great it’d be to have Rachel work there, how her own creative input would do wonders for the Academy.

“So what made you decide to finally take me up on my offer?” He asked, handing her the pen and papers to fill out.

Rachel sat down in front of his desk with a thoughtful smile, imagining the adorable picture she left at home: Maggie holding Leila and Sam curled in her lap, the Bearstain Bears open in front of him, the kids sleepily engrossed in Maggie’s storytelling.

“I have proper motivation”

Fighting begins with the will to live

I want to live

End

#drabble #will tag later

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