Johansson was so determined to avoid looking like a movie star pretending to be a zookeeper running on empty and fueled only by her devotion to her motley assortment of big cats, zebras, and kangaroos that she refused to wear makeup for the film. A big deal for a female movie star, but it works, helping to anchor her performance in the details of actual manual labor—shoveling shit, feeding slabs of red meat to the lion and tigers—that we don’t see much of in American movies. (x)

#i’m sorry what? #that’s what your face looks like without any makeup? #well fuck me#i’m done #i give up

First promotional artwork for Marvel’s Agent Carter

I’d rather get a double double and some Timbits.

Anthony Mackie gets really excited at the mention of being in other Marvel projects. [x]

This man is a fucking gift to this fandom and should be cherished.

i see you driving ‘round town with the one i love and i’m like

forget you

"….I’m not sure if I should be impressed by the pun, or if I should be rolling my eyes."

"When it's a choice between impressed and an eyeroll, always choose impressed."

+writeonpointe

Arlette’s sitting at the cafe table when she feels eyes seemingly boring a hole into her. Looking up, she scans the area until she finds a guy staring at her with what she had come to call the ‘I think I’ve seen you half naked’ look. Without the extensions, fake nails, false eye lashes, and padded tops she looked vastly different than the girl people would see dancing in most music videos.

"Regular and sane are words not often used to describe me," Arlette teased while looking up at the man. He was cute and the line he used to approach her was a new one. She would play along until she puzzled out his agenda. "As for a codename, I don’t have one per say but the one attributed to me in music videos, who I am on the internet, and my actual name tend to differ. So, where do you think you know me from?" Looking up at him from beneath her lashes she gave him a disarming smile.

"uh? I don't have time for music videos anymore,  and my recent internet history didn't turn up anything as nice as you." That was true. Mostly it was stuff about wings and flight, and trauma. That was his life now.

Also, how to plan a prank epic enough to get the jump on Stark, but hethought he'd have to haveademi God's help with that one. "you're not one of the tech experts at Stark Tower? Or, i don't know. A personal assitant to someone there? Ithink that's where I've seen you." It was either there or the smoked-out remains of SHIELD Headquarters, but that might be a whole other can of Hydra worms.

   Surprised at the friendliness, Ji raises both eyebrows, but doesn’t bother questioning it. He smiles back and nods. “Sam, then. I am former Agent Ji. I believe, though, if anyone owes one a drink, it is I with you.”

"Yeah? How you figure that, Former Agent Ji?" He asks, half teasing. "I'm not turning it down, 'f course, but i'dl iek to know how you think you owe me."

"Depends on what you accept as ‘sleeping’. If runnin’ on empty until your legs give out counts, then yeah, ‘m sleeping.”

"That ain't sleeping. Sleep is restful, and that's just not. So tell me, James: what keeps you up at night, huh? What's keeping you from resting up? Tell me one thing that keeps you awake at night."

This isn’t something he’s used to. For a long time he didn’t know what this felt like, to care about people and to have them care about him, too. There’s an inexplicable feeling that flares in him when somebody else has all Sam’s attention, though, and he doesn’t like it. It’s easier for him to just walk away than to try to understand it.

Sam stops him, though. Sam always seems to stop him before he can run too far. He’s not sure what to say so he keeps his back turned, conflicted expression on his face. What is he supposed to do?

And then Sam’s hand is around his wrist and it’s warm, so warm. He can’t remember the last time anybody’s touched him, just skin-to-skin contact with no pain to follow and no obligations. He usually doesn’t like people to touch him unless he’s the one to make contact, but with Sam it feels … okay. Safe. So he turns back to Sam and tries to hide the frustration all these emotions has caused him.

"… Okay."

His fingerstip brush the thin skin of Bucky's inner wrist, because he likes the steady, rhthym of the other's pulse. If there was one reason Sam kept trying with Bucky, why he invested so much of histime and compassion into oe man's recovery, it was the heart beat. He'd seen Bucky jangled, fragmanted, pulsing with a clamourous shrieking pulsation of kill destroy obliterate.  Sam has seen this man other than human (not less than; never less than, no matter what Hydra made him believe). Machinelike, robotic.

That steady beat tells Sam the effort is worth it because this man is here. Not whole, not even remotely close to well or healed, but present. Whatever he has been, Bucky is in the now and he deserves all the good that's been taken from him for seven decades.

"C'mere, Bucky." He says, tugging a little on the other. He lets go of Bucky's wrist slowly, fingers lingering to let the other know he's still there. "Let me introduce you to my friend, huh? Unless you don't want to, that's cool. Whatever you want, okay?"

Partners. Or something like that.

          “What the hell are you doing dude?”

"Nothing in particular. You might say i'm winging it, actually."