look it is a good interview in the box in france

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Bill Condon Narrates a Scene from Beauty and the Beast

This scene from the live-action version of “Beauty and the Beast” features Emma Watson as Belle and Kevin Kline as her father, Maurice. Mr. Kline sings a song written specifically for the new film, “How Does a Moment Last Forever.” In an interview, the director Bill Condon explained why new songs were added and what his narrative approach was. Here are excerpts from that conversation.

What strikes you about this particular scene?

A lot of people who’ve written about the movie have said that it’s kind of a copy of the animated film, and I thought this scene was a good illustration of how that really isn’t true.

In translating a movie from an animated form into this new medium, inevitably things become more real, nuanced, and hopefully filled with history and psychology. I think the crucial thing is that no relationship, no matter how loving, is without its difficulties. And so that’s what I wanted to introduce here, a sense that there is something about her father that frustrates Belle.

Maurice didn’t have a song in the animated movie, correct?

Right, but he had a song in the Broadway show called “No Matter What.” I looked at the songs from the Broadway show and none of them really fit into what I thought we should do in this film. So this was the first of the three songs that I asked Alan Menken and Tim Rice to write. I really do think Tim nailed it with the first lyric: “How does a moment last forever? How does a story never die?”

As this song goes through the movie, it tracks the relationship between Maurice and Belle, and also the mystery surrounding Belle’s mother’s death.

Would you talk about the music boxes and drawings in Maurice’s studio?

They all represent scenes from different cultures. Belle’s knowledge of the world comes from the very few books that she gets to read and from these images that her father has created. So she has grown up looking at these things. There are depictions of Russia, for example, and the Far East. And in a way, her father’s art represents a way for her to imagine the world.

What was the design philosophy here?

I knew going in that we were going to have a computer-generated beast and computer-generated household objects singing. Because of that I really wanted as much of the rest of the world to be built. I do think people feel the difference. So we took over the entire back lot and many, many stages at Shepperton Studios in London.

The scene was designed by the brilliant Sarah Greenwood with her great decorator Katie Spencer, who created all those beautiful music boxes. They refer to a very specific period: the 1740s in France, which is when the original story was written.

TIMELINE: February 2012

Wow. Your eyes are not deceiving you. I actually finally got this timeline done almost 6 months after I posted January 2012. That’s in part to album promo, the holidays, etc., but also due, in large part, to the scope and length of this timeline. As I’ve progressed through 2011 and into 2012, there are much more articles, tweets, pictures and videos to wade through and make sense of. 

But I think this one will be worth it.

August 2011 was what I call “bulletproof weeks.” February 2012 had a similar feel. Harry had “broken up” with Caroline at the very end of January (the same day he flew to America to start his American career wow what a coincidence) and Louis and Eleanor were barely half-assing it. These 4 weeks are so important, as I believe they were the last weeks they had where they were able to publicly display the reality and nature of their relationship without a lot of negative consequences. 

And they did not hold back.

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The Upper Hand: Jefferson x Reader {Part 3}

Part 1 | Part 2

Hamilton - Modern AU (Law School) 

Jefferson x Reader

2404 words

Hey, guys! I just wanted to say wow I can’t believe people are actually reading this and, even more shocking, you actually like it! I’m having a blast writing this and the feedback I’ve been getting is super awesome. I hope you enjoy part 3!

Originally posted by yummyfoooooood

With a groan Thomas throws the pen on his desk and rubs his eyes, cursing Y/N and her ambitious, overworking, 110% effort personality. The pressure she is putting on him combined with his other classload is starting to get to him. The two had had a total of four meetings after that first one, and each time she reminded him how much this project was worth and the amount of effort he needed to put into it (he can recite her inspiring (in her opinion) speech with her at this point). Doesn’t she know that he already puts a lot of pressure on himself in his studies? He didn’t become the second-ranked student in their class of 500 by smoking joints and partying all weekend or playing hacky sack or whatever she thinks he does in his spare time.

Her accidental admission of her class ranking had surprised him. He always assumed that she was average, maybe slightly above, that Hammy or one of the other HamilDorks helped her with her homework. Perhaps Thomas could find it in him to respect her enough to accept her suggestions and opinions about their project. She had definitely shown him that she was worth her salt by correcting his misinterpretation of a statute and quoting several laws and precedented cases from memory, which all helped strengthen their defense. One of the HamilDorks is actually useful—surprise!

He groans again just as James walks past his open door. His best friend/roommate lets out a chuckle and leans against the doorframe.

“Having problems?”

Thomas throws another pen against the wall over his desk, disappointed that it didn’t puncture a hole in the wall. “Yup.”

“Let me guess,” James says. “The little milkmaid from Kansas made another schedule for your case?”

For some odd reason, James’ condescending tone creates a little tickle of irritation in Thomas’ chest. His mind conjures an image of Y/N pulling her hair into a ponytail as she leans over her notes, her teeth working her rose-colored bottom lip as she concentrates. “She’s from Nebraska, James.”

“Does it matter?” he scoffs. “I think she needs to pull that stick out of her ass and relax. You’re top in the class. You’ll get it done no problem.”

Thomas clenches his fist and struggles to keep his voice even. “Perhaps you should focus on starting your own project, James. You know Hercules Mulligan isn’t going to be much help.”

He doesn’t see James furrow his eyebrows in thought, wondering why he is suddenly defending Y/N instead of joining in on making fun of her.

“You’re right,” James mutters after a pregnant pause. “Aren’t you supposed to be meeting with her tonight?”

In a panic, Thomas checks his watch, realizing that he’s lost track of time. It’s already eight. “Oh, shit!” he yells, hurriedly gathering his case papers and defense notes and shoving them into his bag. James thoughtfully observes Thomas as he quickly grabs a jacket and pulls on his shoes. His friend pauses in front of the mirror, runs a hand over his shortly cropped beard, and swats at a few rogue curls.

Thomas pushes past his roommate and jogs to the door, pulling it open hurriedly when his phone rings. He answers it, standing in the doorway to their two-bedroom apartment. His eyebrows meet in a frown as he listens to the person on the other end.

“What? The library is closed? Why? … Water pipe maintenance? Sounds like a bunch of—sorry… Uh, I don’t know where else to go. A lot of the local restaurants close at nine, so that would only give us an hour of work… Yeah, I know we need to keep on schedule.”

James appears in Thomas’ peripheral vision and clears his throat to grab Thomas’ attention. “I’m going to Aaron Burr’s for the evening to study for the Theories of Civil Law exam tomorrow,” he announces.

Thomas nods, his face brightening just enough for James to notice. “Okay, how about we work at my place? Madison is gone for the evening so he won’t distract us… Perfect! Let me give you the address…”




“This is where you live?” you ask, following Jefferson into the living room. “This is so…normal.”  

He laughs and motions for you to sit on either of the mismatched  couches (one dark brown leather, the other a god-awful blue and green plaid—you choose the leather). On the light wood coffee table are pens, pencils, and highlighters, along with a variety of sweating unopened root beer and orange soda cans. The perpendicular couches face a large flat screen TV mounted on the wall. Under the TV is a long thin table with what looks like an XBOX, a Wii, and two ugly red and black striped vases.

“What did you expect?” he asks, smirking. “Designer décor? An open floor plan with hardwood floors? A bear skin rug? A roaring fireplace and a wet bar? Four-car garage?”

You shrug. “I dunno. I heard you lived in France for a couple of years, so maybe baguettes and wine? Miniature Eiffel Tower sculptures?”

“Actually, these—” he gestures to the two red and black vases under the TV— “did come from France. What do you think?” he asks excitedly.

Should you tell him your real opinion or lie through your teeth? He looks so innocently happy, like a kid who made a picture frame made of macaroni noodles for their parent. You can’t squash on that kind of pure, unadulterated pride.

“They’re very nice,” you say politely.

“You hate them.” He shrugs. “You’re from Nebraska. What do you know about taste?”

Instead of yelling at him for insulting you and your home state like you would have a week ago, you laugh. Your amiability shocks both of you, and your laughter quickly dies on your lips. Awkward silence. He shoves one hand into his jeans pockets and rubs the back of his neck with the other. You smooth your skirt and lick your lips, looking anywhere but at him or his red French vases.

“So…” Jefferson finally breaks the silence. “I think we have everything we need here. Help yourself to a soda. Unless you want something else to drink?”

You shake your head. “Oh, no thanks. This is fine.”

“Okay. Let’s get to work.” He takes a seat on the other couch and spreads out his defense notes.

The two of you alternately bounce ideas off each other and work in silence for the next hour. You discovered that sitting on the carpeted floor and using the coffee table as a desk is more comfortable than leaning over it while sitting on the couch around the twenty minute mark. He realized that chugging two root beers and one orange soda leads to a lot of bathroom breaks halfway through the orange soda. You both found out that listening to a classical study mix on Pandora through his TV increased productivity after he yelled at you for humming an obnoxious popular hip-hop song you’d listened to on the way over.

“Do you have any more pieces of paper?” you ask after an hour of note-taking and paging through your textbooks.

He looks over the table as if he expects it to be there, frowning when he doesn’t see any. “I thought I brought some out…”

“All I see are pens and highlighters here.”

“I have some paper in my room.” He pulls his long legs out from under the coffee table and stands, groaning as he stretches his muscles. “Ahhh, man, you should really get up and stretch. We’ve been sitting too long.”

He disappears down the hall toward his and Madison’s rooms as you push yourself to your feet, echoing his groans. You start walking, slowly, across the living room floor, stepping over books and your backpack and your shoes, when you hear a crash and Jefferson’s strangled yelp. It sounded like a rainstorm.

Curious and concerned, you follow the sound of his cursing down the hall and into the bedroom on the left. You clap a hand over your mouth as you try to stop the laughter at the scene in his room. Jefferson glares at you, lying prostrate on the floor, partially buried under an avalanche of hundreds of boxes of mac ‘n’ cheese. His closet door reveals another hundred identical boxes stacked on high shelves.

“What on earth…” You shake your head, your shoulders shaking as you try to hold in your laughter. “I have so many questions.”

He curses again and sits up, pushing macaroni boxes off of him. “I can’t believe my precious betrayed me..” he murmurs breathlessly.

“Okay, first question. Why do you have so much boxed mac ‘n’ cheese? This is really unhealthy.”

“Um, excuse you?” Jefferson leaps to his feet, indignant, and begins pacing back and forth in front of you. He reminds you of Washington when he gets really passionate during a lecture.

“Macaroni and cheese is the food of the gods. This is the perfect food for any occasion—birthday, Christmas, christenings, job interviews, bad days, good days, you name it! It should be everyone’s comfort food. It’s cheesy goodness with soft pasta, carbs and dairy, so it’s totally healthy. It’s easy to make—takes less than fifteen minutes. Plus, I memorized the directions so I don’t even have to look at the box. Are you impressed yet?”

“You are insane.” You look over the boxes in disbelief. “How much did this all cost?”

“I buy it in bulk, so less than you think.” His smile widens as he nods eagerly.

“Why was it in your closet?”

“Not enough room in the kitchen cupboards. Madison hates it anyway, so he told me to keep it out of his sight. I have another box of boxes under my bed, too.”

You suddenly realize that you are standing in his bedroom. You take in the décor, the grey-and-white-striped comforter on the bed, the magenta throw pillow, the Eiffel Tower poster hung over his side table, the bookshelf full of books (lots about France and one curiously titled The Miracle of Macaroni and Cheese: Variations of the Best Comfort Food), the desk in the corner strewn with textbooks, papers, and writing utensils. Above his desk handwritten notes, printed quotes, and pictures have been taped or tacked to the wall.

“That’s my Wall of Inspiration,” he says, and you realize he’s been watching you as you look around his room. You take a step closer and read quotes about success and hard work from Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Steve Jobs before finding one printed on magenta paper in a large, fancy script:  

Nothing can stop the man with the right mental attitude from achieving his goal; nothing on earth can help the man with the wrong mental attitude.

That’s really true, you think, wondering who wrote it. You read the author’s name in smaller print under the quote:

–Thomas Jefferson

“Ha! You quoted yourself on your Wall of Inspiration? That’s a lot of ego, Jefferson.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “I am big enough to admit that I am often inspired by myself.”

You shake your head at him reproachfully but you can’t knock the satisfied smirk off his face. His inflated sense of self makes you want to slap him but you also kind of admire him for it. He believes in himself and his abilities. He is comfortable in his own skin and doesn’t care about what other people think about him, which is evident by the magenta T-shirt with the words Qu’est-ce que j’ai raté? You find yourself secretly wishing that you had half the confidence he had.

Beside his quote on the Wall of Inspiration is a picture of Jefferson and a pretty girl with long curly hair and sunkissed skin. She is smiling at the camera, her nose crinkling cutely as Jefferson kisses her cheek. His girlfriend, you realize. You feel the smile on your face fade.

“That’s a cute picture,” you say, trying to act normal. “Who is she?”

His eyebrows move closer together as he follows your finger to the picture. “Oh, that’s Martha,” he says tersely, as if that answers your question. Technically it does, but it also produces more questions. Is she his girlfriend? Are they broken up? Why is she still on the wall? Is she around? Why haven’t you seen her around?

Wait, it’s none of your business, why do you care? It’s not like you like Jefferson. He’s an insufferable, overconfident jerk who wears too much magenta and has insulted you too many times for you to ever like him as anything more than a classmate. That’s what you two are—classmates and partners on a school project. That’s it. There’s no way you could ever be attracted to him.

Almost as though he had heard your inner monologue, Jefferson bends down to begin picking up the boxes of mac ‘n’ cheese strewn across his floor. His jeans tighten around his ass, giving you a front-row view of how round and—for lack of a better word—perfect it is. You can see the muscles in his back as his magenta shirt stretches with his reach. How had you never noticed how fit he was? It was as if someone had given you glasses that suddenly cleared up your vision so you could notice small details that you hadn’t before. Like the swell of his biceps as he lifts a big cardboard box full of boxes of mac ‘n’ cheese back onto the top shelf of his closet. You’ve always been an arm girl, you admit to yourself as you admire his toned muscles.

He glances over his shoulder at you and smirks as if he can read your thoughts. You shake your head hard, clearing your mind.

“We should probably get back to work,” Jefferson says, holding out a blank yellow legal pad.

You nod dumbly and take the pad from him, cursing your face as it betrays you with a deep blush. The blood makes your face hot and pounds in your ears as you follow him back to the living room. You fan yourself with the pad when he isn’t looking. Now you can’t help but watch his muscles as he sits back down, his back against the plaid couch and his legs stretched out in front of him.

Shit, you think. This can’t be good.

7

TLSP Interview from Myrock n°39 by Thomas Mafrouche

COMPLETE TRANSLATION I translated it by myself and I’m not a professional, so there might be approximations. I didn’t translated word to word, but I did my best to make the translation as accurate as possible.    
@crowded-of-badasses @childproofedcapsonheranswers
Thanks to my beta >:^)                                  

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A for Aria?

So this seems to be a very popular theory, and there are so many clues and hints and it can be very confusing, so I made this post so I could have them all in one place. I have chosen the clues and hints that I think are important.

1. The first liar to get a text from A in the first episode was Aria, but the really weird thing about it was that it said the message was from Aria. I don’t know if they made a mistake while making the show, or if it’s meant to be that way. If they meant for her to text herself a threat then people have said that might be a sign of Aria having a split personality.

2. While we’re talking about phones I want to mention the fact that Aria seems to have a lot of different phones. If you’re on the A-team, different phones would be convenient. 

3. I watched an interview with Keegan Allen where he said people should have guessed he was on the A-team when he sent a message from an unknown caller ID. Aria did too. So does that mean we should count her in?

4. We love it when Marlene King gives us some hints to who -A is. I bet you all have already seen this one a million times. 

5. You’re probably tired of this one too, but hey, it’s important.

6. More hints regarding her clothes: In this episode she wore a black hoodie with white paint on it, and in the same episode A painted with white paint.

 

7. So in the episode “Unmasked” Aria, Ezra and, if I remember right, Jenna took their masks off, the only difference is that Ezra took off Aria’s mask, therefore she was the only one who was unmasked by someone else, and the writers told us A was gonna be unmasked in this episode.

8. And then we have the Black Swan one. So apparently A was gonna be dressed as the black swan at the masquerade ball, and everyone was so busy watching the black swan who was Melissa(we think A paid her to dress like the black swan), but Aria was also dressed as the black swan.

9. If you have watched the Black Swan you would know that the main character has a split personality, she is good and bad. Aria also dressed up as Daisy from the Great Gatsby who has a Borderline Personality Disorder, which makes us fans think that these are hints that Aria has a personality disorder too. 

10. People started looking for other similarities with Aria and the Great Gatsby and they noticed that the author’s last name was Fitzgerald, the same as mr. Fitz. His wife Zelda, was born in Montgomery, Alabama. Zelda had schizofrenia which is a mental disorder. They started thinking of Zelda as Aria, and Zelda went to a sanitarium in France, so maybe Aria has been a patient in Radley, or maybe that’s why her family went to Iceland? Zelda was treated at John Hopkins hospital in Baltimore, and in one of the -A endings we saw a box with Hopkins written on it. Not sure if it means anything, but it is interesting. 

11. Aria + pigs = <3 As you probably know Aria loves pigs, and so does A. Some people think that’s a clue, others are leaning more towards Paige, because Alison called her pigskin.

12. Aria: Why not pie? Marlene King said that pie is a big clue, so we all started looking for pie. We see Ezra, Aria and A around pie more than once, and since nothing is a coincidence in Rosewood, it’s worth mentioning. You can read the pie theory here on this tumblr blog: http://pllsugar.tumblr.com/post/99070643192/key-lime-pie-refers-to-the-a-team-aria

13. Then we have “the confession”! When Hanna’s mom found a letter from A she got worried, and Aria told her that she was A so that Hanna’s mom wouldn’t try to find out who A was. She said “I’m A.  A for Anonamous. A for Aria.”

14. On this tumblr blog “http://idontneednoroad.tumblr.com/ariaisa3" it’s a pretty good post about Aria being A with other clues than what I’ve mentioned here, so feel free to visit the page, you won’t regret it.

I’ll add more clues to the list later :)

Getting caught

Fanfiction based on the prompt:
imagine Person C walking into Person A and B “experimenting” with whipped cream and strawberries and Person C just gives them the smuggest fucking grin in the universe.

Person A: Damon Albarn
Person B: Graham Coxon
Person C: Alex James

Year: mid nineties

Rating: +16

Words: 1653

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'London Spy' Finale Postmortem: Edward Holcroft on Alex's Fate

Warning: This interview contains spoilers for the finale of BBC America’s London Spy.

The wait is over. After five weeks of wondering what happened to Alex (Edward Holcroft), the finale of London Spy gave us answers. And it was even more horrifying and heartbreaking than viewers of the BBC America love story-turned-mystery could have predicted.

Related: ‘London Spy’ Star Edward Holcroft Previews BBC America’s New Thriller

MI6 had placed Alex in that trunk, and when he awoke to find himself there, Frances (Charlotte Rampling), the woman who’d raised him to be a spy, had to try to convince him to move to America and leave behind both Danny (Ben Whishaw) and, more importantly, his work. Though Alex reluctantly agreed, MI6 used his own lie-detection technique against him to determine that he wasn’t being truthful when he said he’d go, never see Danny again, and forget about his work — and when he returned Frances’s “I love you.” Though Frances begged for a chance to speak to him again, she was drugged and driven home while Alex was left to die.    

Holcroft spoke to Yahoo TV about filming that brutal scene.

Take us through shooting Alex’s final scene. Were you actually in a box?
I was. They put me in a trunk, and… yeah, it was hard. I’m not going to lie. I haven’t got a problem with small spaces or claustrophobia or anything like that, but I remember, when we did it, Charlotte Rampling was on the other side of the box to read the lines — it was really quite moving, actually. And when we cut, I got out and I was getting quite upset. I didn’t know why. I was naked, and it was a very comfortable set to work on and everyone was incredibly sensitive and professional. But I remember when I got out, I just wanted space, and I could feel it brewing up in me. Charlotte became my mom almost and was sort of like, “Everyone, get out of the way. Give him space. Leave him alone.” She was so sweet, which made me get even more upset.

Had you been filming the scene for hours?
At least three quarters of a day, so a good five to six hours. I wasn’t in the box for six hours, but it was more the psychological aspect of it —  the thought of, if that could happen to someone, if you could be stuck in the space that small… It was hard, but it looked good, so I’m happy.

And since we don’t actually see Alex take his last breath after he’s left there to die, you can imagine those final moments as a viewer and its haunts you. Did you film his last breath?
No, that was pretty much it. I had friends, people who’ve watched the last episode, saying, “Are you sure you’re dead, or did you come out after?” People didn’t want to fully believe that he’s dead. They still think that there’s a twist. They still think Alex went to America.

Creator Tom Rob Smith has said he never intended for it to be ambiguous, whether Alex was really dead, even when his body was found at the end of the premiere.
The whole story is so ambiguous by nature. When I read the scripts, that was what I loved about it. It was different: you couldn’t place anything anywhere, compared to so many scripts that one reads now, where you can sort of predict things very fast and it’s all kind of the same. I love the unpredictability. It makes it haunting. It makes it uncomfortable. It was sort of quite fitting that it just ended in the way it did.

Going back to the premiere, whenever Alex turned up the radio and told Danny that he couldn’t go anywhere without getting a new battery for his computer… did he know that something was about to happen to him?
I think he knew. He’s a very intelligent man, and I think he knew that his world would be watching him very closely, because of his relationship with Danny and when he started his work on creating this theory of proving lying. I was playing it like he knew that it’s probably just a matter of time before they do something. Whether or not he knew that they were going to the extent of taking him away or killing him, I don’t know. But I think when you work for people like that and there are secrets that are that important, you know the full consequences.

Related: 'London Spy’ Review : Love, Secrets, and Mystery

It’s clear why he wouldn’t want to leave Danny, the only person he’s ever connected with. In your mind, why didn’t he want to let go of the research even when it meant death? Is it because he hated what spies had made him so much that he wanted to destroy their ability to lie?
Scottie [Jim Broadbent] says it at some point during the story: Alex was ashamed of the lies that he had told Danny, and I think this was his proof of true love to Danny, that he could do this, because everything up until then had been a lie — what he told him he did, where he was going, what he was doing.

I think it was his way of telling Danny how much he loved him, because he wasn’t capable of showing it any other way. He was so socially reclusive. This was his way of trying to deal with the shame of the lies that he told him. His whole life had been a lie, and it was his sort of revenge, as it were.

bonesbuckleup  asked:

Man, you know, you don't tag angst very often but when you do you BLOW EVERYONE ELSE OUT OF THE WATER so good job you.

Good, ‘CAUSE— 

I didn’t really extrapolate on this in the tags BUT oh man, he locks the door, he stares at his reflection in the bathroom, at the Barnes Cross (his old wing-shaped patch, now silver on a dark red background), at his long pulled-back hair that he refuses to cut (OH DEAR DON’T LET ME GO INTO MY FEELINGS ABOUT HOW AT FIRST BUCKY REFUSES TO WEAR HIS OLD HAIRCUT, HOW HE KNOWS THE REFLECTION WON’T LOOK THE SAME BECAUSE NOW HE CAN ACTUALLY REMEMBER WHAT HE USED TO BE (how Steve asks him about it once, maybe twice when Bucky was released from SHIELD containment and rehabilitation, when Bucky moved into his apartment, even offered to do it himself like they used to in the old Brooklyn sinks, but Buck flat out says “no” each time and that’s that)). Anyway, he watches himself in the mirror, looks at the pressed suit that would have fed him and Steve and the rest of the block for at least a year; it’s almost comforting how it covers most of his body, except for when his metal fingers poke through and then it’s devastating. He can’t feel the fabric on that side. He looks at the Cross pinned to his breast.

He almost throws it in the garbage can.

It’s just a piece of metal, sentimental and…

He never had need for things before. Everything was provided for him, though usually never as an option. Unfreeze, warm him up, run tests, get dressed, await transport, here are your orders, go, mission complete, debrief, freeze again. He doesn’t remember eating a lot unless a higher up ordered some underling to “feed it.”  He doesn’t remember being hungry after the first so-many missions, even when out in the field for days. This medal is just as extraneous as everything Tony and Sam and Steve have provided for him. (Why does he need four pairs of shoes?) His room in Stark Tower is a testament to how little he can survive on. (They forced a mattress and headboard on him; sleep was another thing he hasn’t needed or done in so long, he just remembers going cold and then… cold again, but waking up this time.) In the old days, if he was really desperate, he might have hocked it for grocery money or a heating bill in the winter. As the Winter Soldier, he would have handed it over to whoever acted as his handler. (Oh, don’t even ask about what they did to him in the beginning when he first tried to keep things, trinkets—a white smooth stone from a river in South America, a handful of pine needles from Siberia, a stolen bracelet from a vendor in Pakistan—something to jog his memory even though they were bound to wipe him clean.)

And he’s unworthy, anyway.

He’s alive. He didn’t even know that he was supposed to be dead.

Steve calls it a miracle sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly maudlin. In all of the world, in all of the chances, they found each other again. Bucky fell off a fucking train (they don’t bring this up much; Buck counters it with Steve plunging out of buildings and a fiery helicarrier) and they’re still together some eighty years later.

Hydra had him. But Buck didn’t care it was the bad guys he killed for. He didn’t want to know. He doesn’t deserve…

And maybe his hand, the fleshy one, trembles as he closes it over his breast and thinks of the people who do deserve this honor.

Riley was awarded this, the Barnes Cross. Sam has pictures of him in his living room, on the wall and more stored in his laptop, one on his phone. He talks about him often, not every day but enough that Bucky understands. It’s healthy, it’s therapy, Sam explained, to be able to talk about Riley. Sometimes he doesn’t mention his fallen partner for weeks at a time, just because he feels like he doesn’t have to. He knows he can and will. Buck doesn’t think Steve ever did this, never talked to the other Commandos or Avengers or SHIELD operatives about the late Bucky. Maybe about James Buchanan Barnes, but Bucky? Who knows. Steve is so tight-lipped about some things.

Sam will probably get questions about this. He can already see the interviews. How would your brother-in-arms, your best friend, feel about this? About a known traitor receiving this award? Does it mean anything, now that we know its original recipient wasn’t all as loyal or as dead as we thought? Doesn’t that sort of go against the point, if he was never dead to begin with? He didn’t give his life in duty, in valor. He lived and much longer than Jack Riley ever did.

But Sam Wilson is a good man. Of course he’ll defend Bucky and Riley and everyone else. Bucky just doesn’t know if he wants him to.

There’s a cross in France with his name on it, though it’s nowhere near where he fell, and one in a DC military graveyard and one untended gravestone in a small fenced Brooklyn plot. He’d rather just throw this medal in along with the others that sit in preserved capsule box where his empty coffin should be. Doesn’t matter which one.

Regardless, to dishonor this medal now would be to dishonor all of its former recipients, even his old self, the one that swims before him and looks vaguely like his current reflection—shorter hair, no dark circles, smile, eyes like water. So he keeps it pinned, for Riley and Sam. For the people, good and evil, that he’s shot down like flies.

His muscles are tensed and skin taut when he walks out again, though no one can tell with his suit on. Natasha and Clint can tell, but they’re both hawks in their own respects. The mottled scars rippling around his metal arm tug slightly from the tension.

He sits down.

Someone tries to say something—probably Steve. His hearing remains at full capacity, but his listening skills are starting to shut down, noises and conversations becoming a long continuous drone. The speeches and awards are over for the night, now it’s just after-party dinner stuff. Polite small talk and friendly wine.

Is that Natasha moving? …No, she sits back down.

His breathing slows until it looks like he’s stopped. But it’s still there, ghosting in and out of his lungs. They have Dr. Banner seated next to Pepper who is next to Tony, who is on Bucky’s right ready to fix arm-relate emergencies. (Thor is on his left, his dangerous side, as he is one of the only people who could easily match his mechanical strength without destroying Harlem; hypothetically, if Bucky snaps (again) Thor will distract/constrain while Tony moves in from behind to disengage the appendage.) Anyway, Bruce is the one who taught him how to regulate his breathing, how to put himself into a trance that wouldn’t trigger trained instincts. The Winter Soldier could do it anyway (how to empty a mind that’s already been made blank?) but it was advantageous to have supervised and improved methods.

Now stop thinking.

No more Cross.

Steve will double tap his right shoulder when it’s time to go.

They’ll unfreeze him soon enough.

*deep inhale*

Between Heaven & Hell - Part 11

Fic Update

Summary: Emma/Hook angel and demon AU. She is the light and he is the darkness, they can’t be together but can’t stay away from each other.

Rating: M

On ff.net

On AO3

                                                 Part Eleven

Saint Luke’s was one of the oldest hospitals in the city, founded during the 19th century by a group of nuns to provide for the sick and injured poor who had no one else to care for them. It had been named for the patron saint of physicians and was run solely by the nuns for decades in a small building next door to their convent, but it eventually outgrew its modest beginnings and now occupied a modern complex that incorporated various clinics and healthcare options for people of all classes. Well-heeled young couples now took prenatal classes and booked birthing suites, people with diabetes consulted with nutritionists in addition to their doctors, there was a heated indoor pool for physical therapy and a state of the art cancer treatment facility. The black-robed nuns who had once tended to the patients had long given way to nurses in pastel scrubs, one of whom had quickly risen from behind the triage desk in the ER when Emma arrived. An orderly had helped her carry in the young redheaded dancer, still wrapped in the blanket from her car and still unconscious, limbs slack and limp under the knitted afghan and head lolling like a doll that had been tossed aside and forgotten. A few words to the nurse and she was whisked behind a curtain and laid out on a bed while the doctor on duty was paged over the intercom. He came in a wrinkled lab coat with dark shadows under his tired eyes and had a paper cup of coffee clutched in his hand, obviously using the caffeine to help fuel another overnight shift filled with car accidents, mystery midnight illnesses, domestic violence and whatever else that came in through the thick glass doors before the sun rose.

“I’m Dr. Whale,” he said, setting his coffee aside with one hand as he glanced down at the intake form the nurse placed in the other without being asked, a dance they had obviously done many times before, “Suspected drug overdose? Do you know what she took and how much?”

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It's all about moments

She remembered perfectly the exact moment in which she had fallen in love with Adrien Agreste. She was fifteen years-old, and she had just arrived to her uncle’s home to get a delivery from the bakery, like every sunday evening. And like every other sunday, the Dupain’s were gathered around their old Television and her little cousin was holding the TV Antenna they owned over his head to try to get some signal so that the rest of the family could get a good look of what was happening behind the static on the screen.

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anonymous asked:

The ask box is open, must be my lucky day ^-^ Anyway the Nyotalia girls getting a bouquet of flowers from an unknown admirer for Valentine's Day? If possible with what they'd do if they had a hunch who sent them.

The Allies

America/Amelia Jones: Amelia would be overjoyed as she sees the flowers waiting for her, taking them into her arms and sniffing them, not worried much about who gave them to her. She enjoys the ego stroke, but grows more curious about who was brave enough to give them to her,  hunting down every last person who she suspected had given them to her, not stopping until SOMEONE admitted to it.

China/Wang Chun-Yan: Chun-Yan would find it to be cute that she had a secret admirer, receiving the flowers causing her mood to improve ten-fold. She would mull it over for awhile over who they could belong to, directly confronting the person as she wasn’t one to beat around the bush; she would pout if she never found her admirer, but would find the mystery would make it even more interesting for her to look back on.

England/Alice Kirkland: Alice would be clearly flustered but also flattered to receive a bouquet of flowers, holding them to her chest and feeling her heart flutter as she imagines the one person she hopes gave them to her. She wouldn’t reveal her true thoughts, though, and wouldn’t ask around, as she didn’t want to ruin her perfect fantasy or disappoint herself with the flowers not coming from her crush.

France/Francine Bonnefoy: Francine would be instantly won over, letting out a happy cry of joy, and drawing the attention to her. She creates an imaginary prince charming to make her friends jealous, though she would still search around school and try to see who had actually left them behind. She’d interview all who were in the room at the time, acting like a detective until she found her secret admirer.

Russia/Anya Braginsky: Anya would be confused at first, asking around as to who left the flowers around. Finding them to be addressed to her, she’d give a pleased look and hum happily, wondering if it was one of her brothers that left it for her to brighten her mood. She would innocently ask around school but wouldn’t much care, as the flowers were already in her possession and if her admirer wasn’t brave enough to approach her, then so be it.

The Axis

Germany/Monika Beilschmidt: Monika would stare at the flowers for a few minutes, contemplating why she had received them or where they had come from. She’d pick them up carefully, wondering if they were a joke before reading the card and causing her cheeks turning pink. She would confront Feliciana first, thinking the young girl was pranking her, but would start her own investigation to figure out who the culprit was, wanting to directly ask them why they had been given to her.

Italy/Feliciana Daisy Vargas: Feliciana would cheerfully ask all those in the surrounding area if they had left behind any flowers, and upon realizing they were meant for her, would hold them close to her heart and smile. She wouldn’t know how to casually bring it up in conversation to the person she thought it was, directly asking them and probably sending most running as she interrogates them into telling her all the things about her they liked.

Japan/Sakura Honda: Sakura would feel her heart stop as she picks up the flowers, knowing the meanings behind them and flushing at the implications they held. She would be too shy to figure out who sent them, becoming embarrassed if she thought about one her crushes being the one to send them; she hides them away in her room, taking good care of them while consistently wondering who had been kind enough to get them for her.

Other

Canada/Madeline Williams: Madeline would never believe that someone would leave her of all people flowers, as she didn’t stand out much to grab an admirer to begin with. She would ask around to see if there was anyone who they truly belonged to, but when she realizes they’re hers, she tears up and smiles. Knowing the person probably remained anonymous for a reason, she wouldn’t try to search them out, only hoping they knew how much she appreciated the gift.

Prussia/Maria Beilschmidt: Maria would tell everyone in the world that would listen to her that she was unsurprised she received flowers, telling the world about how amazingly beautiful she was, and how much she deserved them. She would only question those that she saw as the most attractive people that might’ve sent them to her, not wanting to know if it was someone she didn’t like/was below her standards.

Spain/Carmen Hernandez Carriedo: Carmen tends to appreciate all acts of kindness, and this one would be no different; she would seek out the person stubbornly due to the fact she wanted to thank them, and possibly repay them. Her entire day would be made by a simple gesture, and she would set the flowers in an area she would see every day, watering them and taking care of them as they remind her of the good day’s she had, especially helping when she’s had a bad one.