#serious stubble?? always a hint of melancholy in his eyes ?

[exactsentiments]

[  PERSONALS PLEASE DON’T REBLOG.  ]

[need-a-fugue]

The Weight of Winter

Written for @wonderlandmind4​‘s Fall Winter Writing challenge. The prompt? “Jack Frost can fuck right off.”

Characters/Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: You find comfort in the snow, in the eerie silence of winter. But Bucky’s just not into that shit.

“For the last time,” he mutters, words meting through tightly clenched teeth as he tosses the bag into the corner and tightens his metal hand around your hip. “We are not on the run.”

A final woosh of cold air blows past you, tiny tinkles of sleet and snow pelting the back of your neck as he ushers you the rest of the way into the room and kicks the door shut behind you. “Just let me have my fun, old man,” you pout, head heavy on his shoulder, legs nearly buckling beneath you.

“I don’t understand you SHIELD agents,” he grumbles, shaking his head back and forth as he takes care to lower you gently to the edge of the bed. “Mission’s over. It’s done. We’re in a safe house – ”

“Motel,” you correct, the word firing over the top of a pained hiss as his fingers begin peeling away the sticky fabric around your wound.

Bucky rolls his eyes – “Safe being the operative word.” – and shakes his head again. “And you’re… fantasizing about being on the run?”

“First of all,” you begin, voice low and far weaker than you expect, the sound alone causing your breath to hitch with a sudden – albeit fleeting – swell of dread. No need to worry, you remind yourself yet again. Because you never need to worry when you’re with him. “There is no SHIELD anymore,” you go on, struggling to fortify the statement. “So I’m not a SHIELD agent.”

His face tightens, brows shrinking together into an anxious scowl as he watches you feign composure. “Whatever,” he spits out, his concern quickly morphing into frustration.

“And secondly,” you continue, small, crooked smile blooming across your sallow face, “safe is all well and good… but danger can be so damn much fun. And sexy.”

He trains his eyes on your blood-soaked middle, refusing to look up and meet your teasing gaze. A deep swell of anger overrides that side of him that normally sparks and flames at your odd sensibilities, your quirky sense of humor, your unflappable desire to keep from showing any pain or fear. Ordinarily, he finds it all strangely enchanting, perhaps even admirable. But not now. Not here. Not like this. “You’re still in danger of bleeding to death,” he mutters harshly under his breath. “If that does it for you…”

You flinch away from him and flop backwards, falling onto the stiff mattress with a dramatic sigh, arms and legs askew. Bucky blows an impatient breath out of his nose and crawls up the bed to finish removing your nearly shorn tac suit. “It’s barely a graze,” you breathe out, muscles inadvertently clenching as his fingers work beneath the thick, leatherlike fabric. “I’m fine.”

“Knives don’t graze, sweetheart,” he replies with a raised brow. “They cut and they stab. And what you are is cut and stabbed.”

You let out another sigh – one filled with more than a hint of defeat – and you give into the exhaustion that the day – and blood loss – has wrought, allowing your body to sink down atop the scratchy comforter. Allowing Bucky to do what he needs to do. What’s the point in playing down your injuries when he’s the one tending to them, anyway?

You turn your head, gaze traveling to the far side of the small room, to the wide picture window there. Curtains frame either side of the slightly frosted glass, leaving the stunning view on full display. A sprawling clearing right outside the motel. A dense forest of snow-capped trees, branches heavy with the weight of winter, looming just beyond. All of it beginning to dim and darken in the blueish twilight. “I trust you,” you murmur softly, barely a whisper, final word catching as he tugs away the last of the sticky, blood-soaked suit.

He lets out a short scoff, little more than an irritated huff blown sharply through his nose. And he rises and spins to retrieve the large black bag from the corner. Zip. You hear him tug it violently open, sharp clinks and scratches echoing through the otherwise silent room as he digs through the bag’s contents. You know what’s in there. You know what he’s looking for. The fully stocked first aid kit, complete with styptic and a suture set. A full bottle of vodka, because you were always either going to celebrate with swigs or choke on a scream while disinfecting.

“Don’t get the clean clothes all bloody,” you chide weakly from the bed, eyes still trained on the tranquil beauty outside. Bucky’s bag is always packed with a fresh set of civies – one for you now too, ever since that tumble you took into a scummy pond a few missions back. He’s always got them buried beneath the other essentials, packed neatly away with care. Vaguely, you recall laughing at him – long, long ago. Mocking – You’re like a damn boy scout – back before you ever realized how much you would benefit from his preparedness.

Another scoff sounds as he continues to dig around, plucking out items and either palming them easily in his large hands or dropping them to the floor with a dull thud. But you don’t turn to see what exactly it is that he’s doing. You don’t need to. Frankly, you don’t care. This isn’t the first time he’s patched you up after a rough mission. Isn’t the first time either of you have been tasked with staunching the flow of blood from the other, stitching skin and haphazardly bandaging wounds that would make local clinics and hospitals just a bit too suspicious.

He knows what he’s doing, and you trust that. You trust him. So you keep your gaze trained on that window, on the melancholy dusk beginning to gray out the bright white field, draping a shadow across the snow-heavy trees in the distance.

It had started just after you exited the expressway, giant white flakes suddenly filling the sky, dropping lazily about you as he drove. As dark red blood seeped into your palms – into his wide open palm as well – as the two of you hurried deep into what had begun to look like a true-to-life winter wonderland. The further you crept into the thickly wooded hills, tree branches already glistening pearly white above, the more the car struggled for purchase – Bucky cursing all the way, steering with just his tightly gripping metal hand, refusing to let you go with his right – on the whitened roads. And the less everything seemed to hurt.

“It’s beautiful,” you mutter blankly – not for the first time – as you continue to stare longingly out the window. Your eyelids grow heavy, once reeling brain now slowing in time with the gently falling flakes beyond.

Bucky’s head pops up, sees yours turned away, your gaze locked onto the gradually graying expanse outside the tiny, musty motel room. “It’s a snow storm,” he says after a moment, annoyance creeping back into his tone. “Shit could’ve killed us out there.”

A quick – and painful – laugh vibrates through your body, your eyes pinching shut against the ache as you swivel your head towards him. The mattress dips beside you, and when you open your eyes again, he’s there, his warm hip pressed to yours, his bloodied hand once again resting on the wound in your side. His brow is scrunched with worry and dread, and you almost let out another laugh, one fond and wistful, as you reach up and trace a finger down the length of his all-too-serious face. Almost. “You think everything’s out to kill us.”

His tight expression uncoils just a bit at hearing your voice, feeling your touch, seeing your tired eyes lock onto his. “I see what the world shows me.”

You feel the scratch of his stubble tickle your palm as you flatten it atop his cheek, let it linger there for a fleeting moment before ending with a swift pat and letting your hand fall heavily back to your side. “Well, I see snow,” you hum out, blinking your eyes shut again as your head shifts back towards the window.

His fingers – both flesh and metal – begin to press and tug at your side, wiping away some more blood before – “This is gonna hurt.” – a splash of vodka spills over your exposed skin and down into the wound. It burns, causes you to jolt and stiffen and recoil, even as his hands pin you down. “Sorry,” you hear him mutter, barely a whisper, as breath returns to your lungs in fits and starts. As Bucky’s vibranium thumb takes a break from tending the gashes in your side to instead absently stroke a tender trail along your rib.

“I know you have some lidocaine in there,” you say with a twisted smile, voice strained as the blaring pain slowly recedes into a dull ache. “Could’ve shot me up with some of that first.”

He shrugs – “Need to see where I’m injecting it.” – and pulls away the gentle caress to begin his work.

All the while – as he numbs the large wound in your side, and another smaller one above it, and then begins to stich you up, his fingers swift and well-practiced – you stare out that window across the room and urge yourself to get lost out there, out in the cold, numbing winter landscape. “Is it Siberia that made you hate the snow?” you ask after several long, silent moments.

“Yes,” he answers pointedly.

Your tone shifts, becomes a bit gloomy, voice echoing a soft sentiment buried deep in your soul as you say simply, barely a whisper, “We could be there right now. We could be anywhere.”

Bucky continues to focus on his work, his words coming out clipped. “We’re in Pennsylvania. Not Siberia.”

“But it could be anywhere,” you murmur softly, tiny smile spreading across your lips. “We could be on the run. Together. Going… somewhere. Going anywhere.”

He’s silent for a long moment, nothing but the steady in-out of his breaths mingling in with your own more strained, more shallow ones. “Stark should have the extraction team here in a couple of hours,” he says finally, his voice tight and tense.

You let out a deep sigh, your wracked body somehow – despite the dull throbbing and disconcerting numbness – managing to relax into the bed. “Can’t just let me have my fun, can you?”

“This isn’t fun,” he spits out, words commanding despite the slow, deep, oddly soothing tenor to his voice. “I don’t even want to think about us being out here without any help on the way.” A long, languid breath spills out of him and you feel the warm press of his flesh hand atop your ribs, the gentle brush of his thumb returning and setting off a tiny, itchy tendril of delight – of love – in your core. He leans down over you, presses his forehead to yours, his breath hot on your cheek as he mutters, “I just want to get you home, doll,” before dropping a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth and springing back upright to finish his work.

You watch him for a moment, as he cuts down some gauze and tenderly tapes it to your side. As he deftly maneuvers a long bandage around your torso, whispers through clenched teeth – sorry…damn… sorry, doll – when the shifting of your body causes you to grimace and quiver.

When he’s done, you return your gaze to the outside world, the nearly full moon reflecting off the snow to breathe light into a space that is otherwise total darkness. Shuffling and clanging and snapping all sound in your periphery as Bucky dumps the spent supplies back into the duffle and strips off his tac suit, the heavily buckled jacket falling to the floor with a weighty slap. The water runs in the adjacent bathroom, his hulking shadow falling out onto the floor just beneath the window, just in your line of sight, as you listen to him hurriedly wash his hands. Desperately scrubbing away the evidence of your injury… of his own agony.

“Do you think it’s snowing back at home too?” you ask once the water shuts off.

“God, I hope not,” echoes out from the open bathroom door in an exhausted tenor. He steps out into the dim light of the room and tosses a quick glance outside, no doubt checking for threats rather than taking in the wonderous scenery that you’ve been living in for the past who knows how long. He lets out a huff, tugs on a clean T-shirt, and leans over to flip off the bathroom light.

“Jack Frost might be paying a visit to the compound right now,” you say with a crooked grin, your voice thick and tired, slightly slurred. “You never know.” The weight of your lids is becoming too much to bear, no matter how you struggle to keep them afloat. You blink – once, twice – so much time in between that you miss seeing the strides that carry him across the room.

The bed dips beside you and you open your eyes one last time to see Bucky tactfully lay down beside you, curling close without disturbing your still throbbing body in the least. He leans in and drops a swift peck to the very tip of your nose, his pale blue eyes holding tight to your gaze until your lids flutter shut again and sleep finally begins to overtake you. Then he lays down his head, barely a breath away from yours on the pillow, and he mutters, just loud enough to cut into your snow-white dreams, “Jack Frost can fuck right off.”

[syncogon]

[QZGS meta] what’s in an OP? dawning glory (pt 1)

or, why TKA S2′s OP is actually really good

{The King’s Avatar season 2 premieres in less than 24 hours!}

(part 2) (part 3)

Ever since I got into The King’s Avatar, I’ve always wondered what a “classic-anime-style” TKA opening would look like. OPs are something I pay a lot of attention to, both for the sheer enjoyment and hype as well as the deeper story and symbolism they may allude to. And although I enjoy the S1 and OVA OPs for what they are, I always wanted an OP that really followed the tried-and-true formulas, an OP that gave a proper look at what the series was really about, an OP that had a lot to dig into and analyze. 

S2 brought us this kind of OP, finally, and I’m very excited to see it. Heavily inspired by the “What’s in an OP?” youtube series by Mother’s Basement, I really wanted to try and break down this OP. Because things got very long, this is only part 1; the other 2 parts are linked above and below.

Some of the points I bring up may be reading too deeply, but whether some of these details were intentional or not, their meanings and effects are still worth analyzing. Also as a warning, there will probably be novel spoilers. 

For reference, watch and read the lyric translation here.

With all that said, let’s jump right in.

We open with some very nice shots of the morning light streaming in, shining on the gamers’ tools of the trade. Right away, the new animation studio promises us a visual treat - the lighting and colors are excellent. Although the props are unmoving and there are no living beings in these shots, the changing angle of the light adds motion to the scene, giving the impression of a sped-up sunrise. This accompanies the music well, which starts out muffled and distant, and gradually comes into clarity. From the very beginning, the OP grabs our attention and holds it, building our anticipation for what’s to come.

Now we cut to outside, atop a roof, and we get a proper look at the sunrise - only for a brief moment, though, as Ye Xiu’s hand quickly comes up to block the blinding light. “Anime protagonist staring at sunrise” is a pretty common trope, but I think it’s used to nice effect here - we’re introduced immediately to the “dawn” motif that underlies this entire OP (it’s even in the title). It’s a suitable motif for this arc of the story, because this is where Ye Xiu finally has the concrete goal of building up his own team - this is truly the dawn of Team Happy.

I like how it’s Ye Xiu’s hand that’s the first thing we see of him, or of anyone. As a pro, his hands are the most important part of himself; his hands are also one of the first things that Chen Guo notices about him when she first meets him. 

Furthermore, this view provides a nice natural transition to the next shot, in which we finally get to see him properly.

Look at how pretty the sky looks! Look at how pretty his smile looks! 

After the first few seconds of pure buildup in the music, the beat kicks in at the exact same time as his hair begins to blow in the wind. I think it’s very important for the visuals and the music to sync together in an OP, simply because of the raw impact this has on the viewer - they reinforce each other’s effects. Both components of an OP need to work well together in order to create something greater than the sum of the parts. It’s just very exciting, when you can sit back and think “oh yeah, it’s all coming together.” 

Ye Xiu stares thoughtfully at the sunrise for a few moments, before breaking into a soft, relaxed smile (right on the second four-count after the beat starts). It’s not one of his mocking smiles, or his shamelessly confident smiles - here he’s just genuinely happy and hopeful at what the future has in store. 

We see him lower his arm, and then the camera pans upward to a shot of the new series logo for Season 2. This pan-up to title card is also a fairly standard technique, but hey, it’s effective and efficient at getting us ready. 

Speaking of the new logo: it’s basically the same as the old, but I was shocked to see just how prominent the English title “The King’s Avatar” is now. Honestly, it’s really exciting to see - feels like it adds some legitimacy to our small English fandom, and it’s also so cool, knowing how the title “The King’s Avatar” became the official English name almost by accident - we could have easily ended up with something much less interesting. However I do think they could have positioned the text a little better, because I and others keep reading “The King’s Iavatar” haha

As the dawn shifts more into morning, we refocus on Happy Internet Cafe, the origin of it all. Notice the new green leaves on the tree: our story began on a snowy winter, but we’re now firmly in spring, a time of new beginnings. 

The music excitement level settles down a little as we enter the first verse, and here we get a montage of many of the to-be Team Happy members. Although each shot is fairly short, each manages to tell a story, conveying a good amount of information about the character in question. One of TKA’s strengths is its large cast of well-developed characters, and I’m really glad to see that they’re not completely flattened out in this opening montage.

Here we see Chen Guo, presumably opening up the cafe for the day. However, by the time she comes down here to do this, it seems that Tang Rou has already been awake and training for a while.

Like Ye Xiu, the first thing we see of Tang Rou is her hand, a parallel that perhaps emphasizes how deep Ye Xiu’s influence on her is and how she wishes to learn from and surpass him. The nimbleness of her fingers on the keyboard definitely evokes the image of a pianist - a subtle clue for the future.

Look at her straightened back and serious eyes - her posture and expression say it all. Awake, alert, steady, calm, as she continues to strive for improvement. 

The lyric for this part is roughly, “the bugle call to split open the dawn is sounding right here and now.” As mentioned, it’s here at Happy Internet Cafe that it all begins.

From one internet cafe to another, it’s Wei Chen and his bros! Notice how he’s at the center of their little group, in both position and attention - we immediately get the sense that he’s their leader. Slouched against the couch (which seems to be built more for comfortable lounging than proper gaming), hands behind his head, glancing between his friends, an easy smile, it all gives off a relaxed, casual air of confidence. 

Still, in contrast to the seemingly light-hearted mood of this scene here, the accompanying lyric is somewhat melancholy: “were those daydreams or the past?” 

When Wei Chen’s character design came out, a lot of people were surprised at how young he seemed to look, and he has barely any stubble. But with this close-up of his face (which is specifically timed to “or the past”), the lines under his eyes are clear to see. Combined with the lyric, there’s suddenly something sad beneath his smile here. He’s not young anymore. 

Notice the one screen that’s turned on behind him - clearly an image of Glory. Despite everything, he couldn’t bring himself to leave this world entirely.

Where the hell is Steamed Bun? Why does he have a bat? We just don’t know. We don’t even have any lyrics to give us a hint. He’s a real-life Brawler, totally incomprehensible. Even the camera shakes a bit erratically as it tries to follow his movement. Honestly, isn’t this just the best way to sum up his character?

Our favorite math nerd Luo Ji, in a library of course. The shot begins with everything blocked off by the books, and it’s only when he pulls out one of the books (the black-to-light is timed with the lyric “I open my eyes”) that we’re able to see him. He’s still framed by the books in this shot, because he’s first and foremost still a student. For now and for a long time to come, his studiousness and mathematical ability will be what defines him and his contributions to Team Happy. 

Still, he looks thoughtfully at the book in his left hand. Maybe his contributions can go farther. Pay attention to his character Concealed Light when we see him later.

I can’t say if there’s a significance to the woman passing by, but it serves its purpose as a transition to the next scene.

Qiao Yifan! From the logo in the back, as well as his uniform and color scheme, you can see he’s still at Tiny Herb here. He looks determined and focused on his screen at first. When he blinks, though, his gaze subtly shifts to the side and down. Something is distracting him; he’s not quite as certain as he might appear at a glance. 

The lyric here is “[I can’t tell] what side of the road I’m running on,” an apt reflection of his current, conflicted and somewhat precarious situation. He’s on a championship team right now, a place that so many would envy. But he feels much more at home with the ragtag crew from Happy. But what prospects do they have? But it’s not like he has much of a place in Tiny Herb right now either…

From Qiao Yifan looking to the side, we cut to An Wenyi looking to the side - our eyes are able to very naturally follow the transition. Although blurry at first, we soon see that he’s looking at a figurine of Immovable Rock - the number one Cleric in Glory, An Wenyi’s idol. He looks at it thoughtfully for a moment, brows furrowed, before turning away and closing his eyes. As though in resignation, knowing he’ll never be able to reach that level.

The lyric is, “do I understand” - a very short line, with the note held out.

An Wenyi is the logical one; he’s the one who understands. He understands his current position, he understands that he has no hope as a pro with his current skill, he understands that the chance Happy is offering him is a once-in-a-lifetime kind of opportunity for someone like him. It’s a decision he considers carefully, he’s unafraid to ask bold questions about the practicality of what Chen Guo and Ye Xiu are trying to do, but in the end he knows this isn’t something that he can pass up.

I like An Wenyi’s character arc a lot. There’s a lot of worry and self-doubt in his expression as he looks at that figurine; there’s a lot of sadness as he turns away. Even through Season 10, this aspect of him doesn’t just magically disappear - he has to deal with this reality of being Happy’s weak point. His logical mind is both his greatest strength and his greatest weakness.

From An Wenyi’s closed eyes, we cut to Su Mucheng’s downcast eyes - another natural eye-focused transition. She looks up as the wind picks up around her, blowing her hair and scattering leaves. 

Notice that she’s not wearing her Excellent Era uniform here. Her dress reminds me of her outfit from the prequel movie, actually - color scheme, sleeves, bow, length, cut, etc. 

It’s a style calling back to younger, simpler times. The light pink color adds to that effect as well. 

As the camera pulls out, we’re able to see just how alone she is, isolated from the cars passing beneath her, not a single other person nearby. And at this point in the story, she really is rather alone; she doesn’t really have any allies on the team, and her only escape is to play in the game with the Happy crew. 

The wind is scattering many leaves, and she blurs into the background as the camera focuses on one drifting red maple leaf in particular. 

Blatant symbolism is blatant (it’s not even fall right now, it should be early spring…). Still, it’s a convenient shorthand to reference many things. One Autumn Leaf, Ye Xiu’s account and identity for a decade, now snatched away. The symbol of Excellent Era and those earliest hopes and dreams, now lost to the wind. It could even reference Su Muqiu himself, the boy with “autumn” in his name, now lying in eternal rest. 

The lyric is, “interwoven in the dawn, those memories and rests.” The past is now past, far out of reach; all we can do is look up and reminisce on what once was. 

Over the course of these shots, you can see the passage of the morning. The earlier characters are illuminated by a golden glow, but by the time we reach Su Mucheng, she’s standing in full daylight. Here we end section 1 (verse 1), and move onto the next part of the song.

Thanks for reading so far!

(part 2) (part 3)