I don’t see the point of doing an interview unless you’re going to share the things you learn in life and the mistakes you make. So to admit that I’m extremely human and have done some dark things I don’t think makes me unusual or unusually dark. I think it actually is the right thing to do, and I’d like to think it’s the nice thing to do.
“But the horror? The horror was for love. The things we do for love like this are ugly, mad, full of sweat and regret. This love burns you, maims you, twists you inside out. It is a monstrous love, and it makes monsters of us all.” – Crimson Peak (2015)
The framing of the Winter Soldier is very deliberate throughout the film. He’s never revealed straight on in full frame. Instead he comes in at angles or is glimpsed through fire and smoke—our first-ever look at him is as a distant, shadowy blur. The effect is unsettling—you never know where he is or where he’s coming from, which unnerves the audience as much as it does the heroes. And he is always preceded by violence. He doesn’t show up and then start shit—shit is already started by the time he emerges. Violence is a harbinger for him; he is not a harbinger of violence.
Introducing the Winter Soldier: The creation of a truly terrifying Marvel villain (x)
I love poetry, and I love poetry about love… all of the trimmings have been stripped away, and really great poets have got to the heart of the matter by using very, very few, brilliant words, to make you feel something, which, for most people, is inexpressible.
If people bring so much courage to this world the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially.
warning: discussions of past suicidal behavior and depression. has a happy ending 🙂
“Rogers,” Bucky calls across the gym. “Hey, Rogers.”
Steve keeps going at the punching bag. “Rogers!” Bucky barks, and Steve whirls around, gasping for air.
“Steve,” Bucky says, and walks closer. “Sweetheart, hey.”
“What’s wrong?” Steve asks, wiping his hand over his brow. One of his knuckles is bleeding through the tape. “Something wrong?”
“Nah,” Bucky shrugs. “Thought I’d see if you wanted to, I don’t know — let’s head into town.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“Busy,” Steve supplies.
“Wanna fight?” Bucky asks. “I’ll tape up.”
“No, it’s fine, I’m going it solo,” Steve replies.
Bucky can’t point out Steve’s bleeding; it’ll only piss him off. “I’ll be back with dinner in an hour,” he says instead. “Pizza?”
“Sure,” Steve says, but he’s already tuned him out.
*
The next week isn’t much better.
“You’re sleepin’ awful late,” Bucky says. “It’s nearly noon, you wanna get out?”
“Hmph,” Steve mumbles from under the covers. “Nah.”
“You’re sleepin’ awful late,” Bucky repeats in a murmur, kneeling by him. He’s out again, just like that. “Goddammit,” Bucky says to himself. Goddammit.
*
Steve sleeps in the day when he isn’t out and then he’s up all night, up all night long, finding something to do, jogging, TV, sitting at the window, all night, all night. Finally he exhausts himself so bad that one night he falls asleep only an hour or two after Bucky does, and then the next night an hour, and then finally at the same time. Bucky thinks, thank God, Steve’s getting back to normal.
It’s right when he thinks that that the nightmares come back.
Steve: This is my Bucky, my only Bucky. He makes me happy when skies are gray. He’ll never know dear, how much I love him. Please don’t take my Bucky awaaaayyyy….
ealdor 