"I wake up, they say we won. They didn’t say what we lost".
— the hour of the star, by clarice lispector
Brothers Till The End…
(Sebastian Stan talking about the Winter Soldier’s fighting style)
*dying whale noises*
Rather than bog down somebody else’s post with my dithering, I’m gonna
steal this gif andmake a fresh post.
STAGE COMBAT JAZZ AHOY!
Handful of things going on here worth noting:
- In my personal experience, knife fighting is HARD. It is SAVAGE. No other weapon left me more exhausted after a class, and for the handful of months we were learning a knife fight, my forearms were covered with bruises. The pay off was that little else has been as much fun.
- Don’t assume for a second that both of these guys aren’t padded very, VERY well under their clothes/bionic arms.
- In universe, however, Steve will probably not break a bone against Bucky’s arm. He’s protecting himself by deflecting Bucky’s punch—not stopping, but redirecting the motion. Notice how he’s swinging in toward the center with Bucky. He’s also using the inside of his forearm. THIS IS THE CORRECT WAY TO DO THIS. Never use the edge of your arm that runs from pinky to elbow to deflect things. There’s less flesh there, that’s how you break bones. Steve’s gonna have bruises, but his bones ought to be OK.
- The other rad thing I want to talk about is Bucky’s little grip flip toss. He’s going from standard grip to reverse or “icepick” grip. This looks rad, but it’s actually a pretty straightforward skill—that’s required in the certification test. Ten minutes of warm-up before knife class is tossing the knife from hand to hand and flipping the grip with a toss in BOTH HANDS. Dropping a knife mid-toss was worthy of some derision—and there was lots of derision, don’t get impressed.
- I would be curious to know if anyone who’s more familiar with Sebastian Stan’s face than I am can tell if that’s him or the fight double (here’s a still).
- What Steve can do to get out of this situation: Get control of Bucky’s arm while Bucky’s swing is outside of the center line of their bodies. Since he’s using the ice-pick grip, if Steve can get in close and brace his arm back while striking to disorient (head-butt, knee to the gut, knee to the crotch), that’d give him a beat to wrench Bucky’s wrist and get the knife away from him. The good news is, he’s got the knife in his fleshy, pain-feeling, vulnerable hand. Bucky’s got the upper hand with speed at the moment, so Steve has to be fast and he has to do it right the first time
- Just as a disclaimer, what I’m blathering about here is stage combat. I know very little that would serve as useful self-defense.
"And remember: you block with the outside of your arm, just like this."
Bucky pats Steve’s forearm to show him the right spot and Steve can’t help looking up at him sceptically. The last time he tried to block anything he sprained his wrist. Again.
"It might hurt, but it’ll work, I promise. Even wea- guys with little strength can do it." He pretends not to notice the slip in Bucky’s words and instead focuses on the warmth of Bucky’s hand. "Trust me."
And there it is: that playful little smile just for Steve and Steve alone. He smiles back tentatively. “I do.”
"Remember: you block and then you get the hell away from there. Leave the rest to me. Getting beat up is one thing, but a knife fight …"
The grip on his arm becomes urgent. Bucky’s brows are furrowed, his lips move quietly, his smile is just a little pleading, just a little desperate.
"Can you do this for me, Steve?" he aks, huffing out a quiet laugh, because they both know how this conversation will end. And he says it anyway, says it even though he knows Steve will never do that, no matter the cost: "run."
(“Run,” the Soldier hisses, the knife missing Steve’s face by a hair’s breadth. There is nothing even remotely friendly or amused about it and his eyes are coldcoldcold. “Run or you’re going to regret getting in my way. Run.”)