#tblrsw

Day 5: “Come on Closer”. Raymond Reddington/Donald Ressler.

@theblacklistrareshipsweek, Day 3 “Hands All Over”.

We are the same endless desire, devotion like emptiness I’m so in love with you, desperately in love with you Devoted to you as I

 DAY 1: “When I first saw you...”

The GIF above is when I fell in love with Red and Anne’s friendship. The promotion picture for 8.13 is when I fell in love with their romance. The third picture, a screenshot of the promo for 8.13, is what solidified my love for Red/Anne.

Red honestly deserves more happiness, especially after all the work he’s done and all the work he’s doing. I still remember how in 1.09, Red described his wish to have a woman in his arms again. Anne could possibly be that woman! As you can see, I am so so STOKED for 8.13! So stoked!

Day 1: “When I First Saw You”

The scene which made you fall in love with your ship/the first scene your favs meet each other.

@theblacklistrareshipsweek

Day 3, "Hands All Over"

Bonus day: Free Theme

A/N: Ever since seeing a guitar in Ressler’s apartment I have always been convinced that Donald is a blues-guitarist. I’ve never been able to see him differently. Enjoy!

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Red keeps a recording of Donald’s guitar playing in his desk.

It’s a silly keepsake, one he has been tempted to trash a few times over. But he can never quite bring himself to do so. How he came about such a keepsake is not exactly a thrilling story, but he does remember it clearly.

Once a long time ago, Red came into the habit of bugging the home of the FBI Agent who was currently assigned to catching him. It was a guilty pleasure. That delicious satisfaction when he could drop events, names and dates of their lives like hand grenades to shake their foundations.

They always took a moment to recover. Sputtering and stuttering to get themselves going again, by which point Red was long gone. He missed those days.

But then Ressler came along. The same routine was followed, a bug slipped into his home where he wouldn’t see it. Activated only when there was activity, or movement nearby and everything was recorded. And Red had picked up excellent facts, good little titbits, to spit out when Donald was in front of him.

But it never shook or rattled him like the others. Donald, sturdy like marble, simply took it on the nose, as if he’d half-way expected Red to know these things.

Needless to say, it sucked the fun right out of it.

He wanted to cut off the bug. Leave it dead and quiet in Donald’s apartment, what’s the point if Red couldn’t have any fun? When next the bug crackled to life over the speak and the recording clicked alive, he had stood to turn it off. No point in listening to the boring life of an Agent when he had better things to do.

“I’m not very good…” you’re at least a decent pain in the ass, Donald.

“Just play already!” He paused, his hand hovering over the volume.

“Alright, alright!” a long breath of silence, then the raspy voice of a guitar started playing over the speaker. At first it was tender, almost timid, as if he was apologizing for playing. But the notes were sweet, a blues tone with a warm resonance. There was no singing, just the soft ship-cha, rhythm carrying through the song. He could so easily imagine Donald’s hands, so quick to punch, shoot or kill, tenderly gripping the neck of his guitar. His other picking the strings with a tenderness he would never see in person. He was surprised to find he wanted to.

The song grew in strength and voice, and when it finally trickled to a stop, Red found himself sitting next to the speaker completely enraptured.

“That was amazing!” Audrey squealed.

“Thanks, it –“ Red cut off the volume, and immediately stopped the recording. He removed the tiny cassette, still more reliable than USB sticks in his opinion, and shoved it in his pocket. Later, when Dembe came home he would ask him to remove the speaker, they had no more use for it.