Recently Ted Sarandos, the chief content officer for Netflix, spoke to EW about why they chose to pass on the fan-favorite series.
“We’re looking for truly original brands to own,” he says, “and in that Marvel space we already have [original comic book shows] – so that was mostly why.”
“They also have some output deal complexities,” he adds. “So when you pick it up, being able to pick it up globally is difficult even after it’s cancelled. Some of those output partners still had it on the air, so they would argue it’s covered by their output [deals]. Unfortunately, it was a business decision more than a creative one.”
hi! could you do a Steve Rogers imagine where she’s like the only girl who
really liked and payed attention to him when he was pre-serum and somehow she’s
still the same age when he comes out of the ice (like she was experimented on
or something) but now because steve is tall and buff, he keeps getting lots of
attention from other girls and the reader thinks he has forgotten her. But
instead he brushes off other girls and likes the reader because they noticed
him before the serum? Thanks!
Awwwwwwww precious baby steeeeeve
Another day at S.H.I.E.L.D. passed slowly,
dragging on. You poured coffee into your mug and wiped your brow. You had been
here at this base since the forties. You watched Peggy and Howard form the SSR
into something more, and met the greats, Hank Pym, Phil Coulson, Natasha
Romanov. An extraordinary life.
You had been here when Fury started his
training. You taught him to pull a trigger. You comforted the famed Black Widow
from nightmares when she was a teen and accompanied Clint on his first
missions. You started Phil Coulson’s Captain America trading card obsession
when you gave him the old cards, claiming they had been sitting in your room
for much too long.
Phil loved to listen to you spin tales of the
Howling Commandos and the famed Steve Rogers, Captain America, dressed in red,
white, and blue. But you had known him before all of the fame, the muscles, the
fangirls swooning over his every move.
Very few knew the secret that you hadn’t
descended from Steve’s long lost lover, a humble waitress in Brooklyn. You were her.
You patted his eye gently with the ice pack in your hand. He winced under your
gentle touch, the bruises stinging with even the tiniest contact. He had picked
a fight. Again. And lost. Again. “If you don’t stop getting into fights, like
this, Bucky won’t be dragging you home. He’ll be taking you to the hospital.”
know,” the short blonde muttered, his clear blue eyes not daring to meet your
concerned gaze. You had been so good to him. So warm. So kind. And all he was,
was a reckless mess.
look at me,” you pouted your red lipstick-stained lips and tilted his chin up,
forcing him to look at you.
love you too, doll. A lot. I’m sorry. For everything.”
be sorry. Just promise you’ll try, okay?”
he nodded. You pulled him off of the kitchen counter and wrapped your arms
around him, holding him tight. His lips pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek. He
breathed in your scent deeply. Strawberries and Cherry Coke. “I love you so
much. I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.”
never going to lose me, Stevie. I’ll always be here for you.”
You had lived seventy years without him, sort
of avoiding him even when he came out of the ice. You didn’t know how he would
react to finding you again, and you didn’t want him to feel like he was tied
down to you. You didn’t want to be an obligation. You wanted to be a choice.
So you lived at S.H.I.E.L.D., sharpening your
skills and learning to use the powers that came with your frozen aging. You
moved from department to department, dabbling in different skills; hacking,
field work, tech department, receptionist.
Steve was in the base at the moment. That, you
knew. But you didn’t expect him to recognize you. You had changed your hair and
clothing styles too many times. He would never remember you. Not after all this
You took a long sip from your mug, sitting at
a table in the break room. Another long day. Your pencil danced across the paper
of your hundredth journal, recounting the day’s events. No matter how
uneventful any day was, you still wrote each one down in startling detail in
hopes of remembering as much as possible.
And just when you were about to close it, he
walked in. He was tall, muscular, with a strong jaw. But no matter how he had
changed, he still had those soulful blue eyes. And he was still full of hope.
You tried to ignore him, opening your journal
and reading over some things to draw attention away from yourself. But it was
no use. His eyes drifted to you, and once he had poured his coffee, he sat
across from you.
“Oh, um, hey,” you replied.
“I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Steve.”
“Um…I’m (Y/N).” You stated. His eyebrows
crinkled, and there was a sparkle in his blue eyes when he smiled.
“You look really familiar. Are you maybe
related to a (Y/N) (L/N)? Like her granddaughter or great-granddaughter?”
“No…um…Steve, I…” You sighed. “Stevie…” there
were tears in your eyes. His expression softened, a wave of realization washing
“Oh my God,” he whispered in awe. “You’re…how?
I found your file, it said you had died. That you had died a long time ago.”
“It’s a long story. I’m…sorry. I didn’t know
how to talk to you. I didn’t know how to tell the love of my life that I’ve
been waiting for him for seventy years.”
“Come here,” he got up and stood in front of
you, holding open his arms. You succumbed to his warm embrace, resting your
head on his chest. “I missed you so much. I visited your grave and…I thought I
had lost my chance to see you again. To uh…to give you this.”
“To give me what?” you asked. He tilted your
chin up towards his face and pressed a sweet, soft kiss to your lips. You
melted into it, standing on your toes to wrap your arms around his neck. “I’ve been
waiting for that.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Stevie.” You whispered. He
wrapped his arms tighter around your waist and lifted you off of the ground,
feet dangling a foot above the ground. You laughed, smiling the brightest smile
you had in a very long time. After all this time, he was here again, and you
knew everything from here could only go up.
Even though we are sad, Agents, it does not undermine the efforts we all have taken to keep this cause alive and going for our favorite SSR Agent.
So it is with a heavy heart and with respect that we say to Netflix: “No. You move.”
The technical issues cited by Netflix are hurdles we have known since the very beginning of our campaign; they are not new to us.
We have stated over and over again, Agents, that regardless of whether or not Agent Carter gets another season, we will always keep her alive inside of us, and with everything we do, we do to make Peggy proud.
Just because Netflix has stated why they are not picking it up at this time does not undermine her value. Instead, it rather shows why they should pick her up.
Netflix also tries to own and distribute its titles worldwide, releasing seasons globally and simultaneously, and the structure of Marvel’s existing international deals for Agent Carter made that tricky. “They also have some output deal complexities,” he adds. “So when you pick it up, being able to pick it up globally is difficult even after it’s canceled. Some of those output partners still had it on the air, so they would argue its covered by their output [deals]…”
Ultimately this means that Peggy is popular.
Her show is being aired around the world; fans are watching and falling as much in love with Peggy and the rest of the Agent Carter charcters, time, and settings as we are. Peggy is universal.
So though we are sad now, Agents, know that now is not the end.
We will still be continuing the My Value Project, we will still send postcards to who ever wants them, we will still be doing re-watches every week, we will still have new initiatives for you, and we will still–after some revising–be sending our petition to the proper channels, and we strongly encourage you to sign.
We’re not going anywhere, Agents. Stay with us. On to the next chapter.
Well. That was…odd. But then again, that was why it was reported to the SSR. Fitz made a visible cringe as he transferred a sample of turquoise gloop from a bagged piece of wood into an actual test tube, hoping that it wasn’t some kind of extraterrestrial blood. Granted, this particular sample had come from a place fairly recently the scene of war, not that farm he’d visited in New Mexico, and not that they’d found anything to speak of anyway.
Fitz flipped through papers, once that was done, trying to find a hint of anyone who knew what the hell this stuff was or where its actual origin was. The only person in this part of the city that could be confirmed to have been to the area recently was a nurse by the name of Jemma Simmons. Blinking tiredly, he copied down the address, and within half an hour, was at the address on file.