#nmedit

I’m SO excited to share this clip with you guys.... it’s a lil bit different than the sepia version of this scene ;) This is probably the scene I spent the longest editing-- I think I scrapped and restarted it 4 times before I was happy with the timing. There’s no colorful Hallucination Edward here... but you’ll see how I changed it!

As usual, this is part of my black and white re-edit of the new moon movie. You can find all the clips here. If you want to watch the whole movie, feel free to message for the link. Tag requests under the cut. 

the best of the favoured (of the followers)

Nika Maslov + Civil War

“Are you sure this is the right place, Captain?” 

Wanda quirked her eyebrow as Steve turned to send her the briefest of glances. They were stood in the entrance of a dark building heavy with silence, the musty smell of emptiness invading their noses, wondering why it had been so important that they get there so quickly. 

“Just, trust me okay?” Steve answered in a hushed tone, leaning down on the handle and shoving his shoulder into the door.

The inside was just as much of an enigma as the entrance. The way their footsteps echoed no matter how softly they placed them against the hard floor and the pitch black flooding the space around them gave the room the feeling of being never ending.

“Seriously Cap what are we doing here?” Clint hissed from behind Wanda, the string of his bow creaking as he loaded an arrow.

“Weapons down,” Steve warned, his voice travelling from another part of the room “Nika?” he called out, his attention switched away from the people he had dragged along with him “We just wanna chat,” he continued as his hand brushed along the wall, knowing there had to be a light switch somewhere “Nika?”

A groan came from the flea-bitten sofa at the other end of the large room as light burst from the bulbs above them. Noticing how far apart they had become Sam, Wanda and Clint closed ranks, Clint keeping his hand gripped around his bow and Sam’s hand hovering over the guns sitting in the holsters at his hip.

The bottle appeared first, a mostly empty Jack Daniels, before a bleary eyed, messy haired woman pushed up against the back of the sofa. Her free hand clutched at her head, hiccups jolting her body, and she squinted over to the group standing at her door. 

“S’going on?”

“She’s drunk,” Sam said with a sigh, crossing his arms tightly over his chest “We’re pinning all our hopes on a drunken me-?” he was cut off by a knife flying passed his face, embedding into the door behind him.