01. longing: first word. trigger of the process. he screams, not from pain, but horror because he is still aware of what’s happening to him and knows what comes next.
02. rusted: sense of hopelessness kicks in. realization that he cannot escape the chains, knowing he will turn into a puppet, a monster.
03. seventeen: tries to breathe, to stay focused, calm, to slow down the process, but knows it’s inevitable.
04. daybreak: first painful trigger. word that can be connected to the torture he is enduring or painful memory from the long lost past. tries with everything he has to hold onto his soul.
the winter soldier is trying to come to the surface, we see last real struggle of bucky barnes to stay himself.
06. nine: takes five words to delete bucky barnes from existence, but the process is not over just yet. pain is gone, and so are memories, heart, soul of someone who was not so long ago kind and loyal. the winter soldier hasn’t shown his face yet, this is in between phase, where shell of a human being is full of rage. wrath is first emotion that leads to the winter soldier.
07. benign: slowly becomes blank piece of paper that is ready for the last words before turning into a weapon. doesn’t struggle any longer, hands are not trying to break free, he is where he belongs.
08. homecoming: body is giving its all not to become the other, more vindictive, vicious, dangerous person. there is no bucky, just one last piece of conscious human mind trying not to give into torture. first sighting of the winter soldier. ultimate trigger that pushes him to the surface.
09. one: next to last stage. no conscious mind left. shaking and trembling have stopped. breathing slows down. machine is born.
10. freight car: words attached to his death, symbolize death of a human being, friend, brother, loved one, and birth of the weapon. every emotion, memory, sense of being self aware is buried deep down and it will take a long time before any of those resurface again. breathes in new air. eyes become dead. the winter soldier is ready for orders.
Lord Shigezane will think nothing of his cousin’s new cook until he finds himself face-to-face with her one night after their home has been blanketed in moonlight. He’ll be pacing in the gardens when she comes upon him, and they’ll stand gawking at each other, not quite sure what to make of the other’s presence, before she extends him the courtesy of joining her for tea. He’ll say, It’s a little late for that, isn’t it? to which she’ll reply, rather jovially, It’s never the wrong time for tea, and besides, she’ll admit after he sends her a pointed look, it seems I’m not the only one having trouble sleeping tonight, Lord Shigezane.
He can’t argue with this, and a little later, after the curiosity has worn off and the warmth in the hearth has built up enough to cocoon them in the safely of this makeshift kitchen, he’ll ask, rather suddenly, why she can’t sleep. Nightmares, doll? It will surprise him, the little snort she puffs out. Nothing so droll, milord. And you? Nightmares? He’ll answer just as swiftly and genially, with a wink meant to charm, Men like me don’t get nightmares.
They will be silent for a moment and it’s enough to make him uncomfortable. He thinks he’ll make a swift exit after downing her tea but she pipes up at that precise moment and says, You’re lying, calmly, sipping her cup, and the slight tremor at being caught makes his tea swish up and over onto his hands, scalding him.
It’ll anger him, how quickly she unfurls him, and while he is loathe to turn his irritation on a woman, there’ll be something about her that won’t make him care. So are you, doll, and it’s low, less charming, meant to warn her away from topics her little sensitive ears would shy away from. But she’s not afraid, and her entire posture will challenge him not to condescend to her. It’s unlike anything he’ll ever experience, being stared down by Masamune’s little cook with the little body and little hands, but as much as he wants to he will not find it humorous, because a spark of electricity will crackle between them and it will frazzle him — (like fluttering butterflies in his stomach) — to a point of bewilderment.
It’s been nearly a year. The past is exactly that, unchangeable. I have accepted things about her, about me, that I never wanted to, and never thought I could. I am better than the girl that sobbed at the edge of her bed begging her not to leave. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt sometimes when I think about it too much.
It’s painful isn’t it? The healing. It isn’t predictable, you can’t prepare for what it does to you. Days pass so slowly but in the end, if there is one, it feels like a blur. Nights weren’t as bad as the mornings. I’d wake up with the sun aggressively peaking through my blinds to an empty side of the bed where she used to lay, and the pain would resurface. If I’m being honest, I still feel that way sometimes. Not because I miss her, but I miss the company of someone. There was always so much beauty in the silence of the first minutes of daybreak. Rolling over to the comfort of another warm body, so easily wrapping my arms around her, the way she’d squeeze tighter once she felt my skin on hers. It was like reassurance she loved me back without even opening her mouth.
I look in your direction from time to time, and I don’t see the home that you once were to me. It’s a strange feeling really, knowing so much about you, seeing what others don’t, but being reminded that you ruined me. If it wasn’t you, maybe it was us, how toxic we were but how I couldn’t bare to let you go. I don’t think I could have even if I tried.
The healing has been painful. I am subtly reminded of it during lonely mornings or the seconds where you glance in my direction.
I made the mistake of putting so much of me into you, that when you left I didn’t feel whole. You still have a few pieces of me, things you know and have seen about me that no one else will. I’ve decided to find comfort rather than anger in the idea that we both know each other in a way that only we understand. I hope you know there will always be a part of me that still sees you lightly, no matter how dark you made my world when you left.
A fic about: Meeting Van McCann as a fan of Catfish, and telling him all the things he needs to know.
The hotel had put a barricade around the
entrance. Maybe it was because of how many people showed up to meet Catfish the
night before, but maybe it was because there were a lot of bands staying there
for the festival. Either way, it was clear the crowd that had formed were all
there to meet Van and his band. Bob had come out first, and people were in love
with his softness, and his unassuming joy whenever someone genuinely wanted to
meet him. Everyone did genuinely wanted to meet him though; so he was all smiles.
Next, a drunk Bondy fell through the door. Benji followed close by, holding him
up for the entire time. People really wanted to feel the red velvet shirt, and
get Snapchat filtered selfies with Benji. Once they left, it was quiet. Minutes
turned into two hours, and people left, sure Van wouldn’t make an appearance.
There were only a handful of people left
standing when Larry popped his head out, then signaled at someone inside. Van
strolled out, and walked directly to you. You looked at him and everything you
expected the moment to be crashed and burned in the wake of seeing him in
person. You had anticipated crying and forgetting your own name; lost for
words and shaky. However, as he looked at you and tilted his head to the side,
you knew what you needed him to know.
A little something with one paragraph/sentence prompting. Take it as practice? I dunno actually. Will eventually post on ao3. c:
Shouto had everything one would require: money, status and power.
However, despite the familial love he received and the friendships he
earned, he always felt a lack of something within him. There was a
missing part in him, and nothing was enough to fill it in; yet during
the day he held Yaoyorozu Momo’s hand, he knew the puzzle he longed
to complete will finally be.
all the clouds of insecurities and doubts Momo’s life ever had,
Todoroki Shouto somehow became her torch that enabled her to navigate
through the thick forest inside her mind.
was ever obscure and ill-defined between their relationship, they
took solace in this and treasured that fact.
times and times that passed, the misconceptions, prejudice and the
negative impressions faded and diminished, only leaving the blinding
radiance of their connection and the memories of the times they shared
with one another.
was such the genius in many ways, definitely one of a kind. Shouto
captivated by that fact, again and again, no matter how many times
they have crossed each other’s paths.
wanted to flee from everything. The pressure, the pain, and the
suffering. His companions showed that there was no escape. But Momo
bent every belief said companions ever told him, and she was
confident despite the opinions against her. If you wanted to escape,
then do. Escape is not negative, it is a foundation. Because escapes
do not last forever, someday they fade and you are forced to stand
again. And one day, he had realized something… she was the escape
he fled to that time.
the most littlest things possess heroism and can be as grand as
high-class anythings. Such as the time he uttered her first name with
grace and sincerity, and that itself, is already in the sense, the
most august of what she has received in her life so far.
relationship was never built on hate, it was never fleeting, and it
was never a joke. That on its own, is brilliance.
in the distance felt like andromedas longing for one another whilst
the dark matter kept expanding. Hands entwined felt like replays of
the big bang a thousand times per second upon their palms. Bodies
joined in an embrace felt like a million galaxies exploded into
existence between them. And,
felt like constantly
supernovas that caused vehement and distant shockwaves inside their
bodies. Their love felt like the universe. Interstellar light years
of beauty, solitude and radiance.
Momo and Shouto’s wrongs were rights, because eventually they
become lessons learned rather than diamonds left in the dust.
smile was like an energy bar, a blast of adrenaline runs through his
blood in a matter of seconds. Withal, that energy bar had a lifelong
aftereffect, but Shouto didn’t mind that one bit.
L: love luminescent
turquoise eye stood out rather vividly among the crowd. It stands out
among his facial features, too. But if you ask Yaoyorozu Momo, the
time it stands out the most is under the light of the moon. Where the
gentle light of the sun is reflected on the rock made from earth, and
makes him glow like a ever-picturesque firefly.
were exchanged and rings were worn. In a moment of truth, affection
and hope, only they existed in that world. The lands were serene, the
sky was unclouded, and never had the light ever been so lustrous.
She, was a product of the lovemaking of every beautiful entity that
existed, and He, was a personification of Eden in a sense. When hands
joined and lips clashed, the entire world felt like it collapsed on
their feet. It
wasn’t simply a wedding anymore. It was bliss.
were yesses(does this even exist), yeahs, okays, sures and alrights. But even so, also
in between them were noes, nevers, nots, nopes and nighs.
Momo was once a cryptic and mysterious individual in his life. An
undecipherable code. A language discovered anew. A story forgotten. A
case left unsolved. Yet Todoroki Shouto didn’t really pay any
attention to that, he didn’t mind solving mysteries anyway.
doesn’t take only words to endure through the most horrible
ordeals. Sometimes, it takes action itself, its effect more lasting
than just speech. And when he began to push her to her limits, and
when she, began to take his problems as her own, surviving through
the insufferable was insufferable no longer.
world was always overpowered by noise. The noise of mystery.
The noise of doubt. The noise of everything else deemed negative. The
noise of life. Her
was overpowered by the noise. She
overpowered by the noise. Yet when he set his shoes upon the doorstep
of her life, that was the time when she has experienced the joys of
that is created, is eventually destroyed. Everything she stood for,
was eventually crushed. But then there was he, who showed her, that
even what is beyond repair, can be created again.
was his escape. But she, was his freedom as well.
was the calm, and he was the storm. One cannot happen, without the
are driven by crippling anxiety, unreachable expectations and broken
dreams*. But them? He and she, were driven by the ability to succeed,
and the ability to think that they can.
was hurt, she was damaged, and she lost all hope. Stepping on what
made up the being people have come to know as ‘Yaoyorozu Momo’,
she was was anything but herself. But in times like these, at when
despair judges its time to creep into one’s soul, it is best to
stand on one’s broken feet, on an unstable ground, and to ignite
the ashes of bravery inside. Because to save what was left of him,
she needed to be brave to lose all of herself. Because in the end,
things can always start anew.
not like that he wanted to do those
just a tiny,
trees lined up symmetrically, and the scent of flowers accompanied
their journey along the paseo. The gentle morning breeze and its
companion, the sun rays, beautifully setting the walkway aflame with
the beautiful shades of the first lights of daybreak. But whatever
made this walk a whole lot more mesmerizing and worthwhile, it still
has nothing that can compare to the beauty of her.
I’m with you, minutes alone feel like an eternity.”
takes a grain of sugar every time she says a word, and he takes a
grain of salt every time he answers back.
Okay that’s it. Bye. Imma go cry in the corner of shame for the meantime. Also, (*) in letter U is a citation to Lou’s quote.
*gasp* Why would you do this to me?? I’m a good person (mostly)!
Good god, this is hard!! Like, how am I supposed to choose between these beautiful nerds???
Serena is the actual queen of my heart, with her wit and her sweetness and her snark and the ability to flirt successfully with a cardboard box if needed and her smile that could probably power a small country.
But Laura is the original HBIC; my beautiful, pragmatic, giggly, stone-cold, unicorn-haired President.
Both of these women have destroyed me - I legit cried for 11 hours after watching Daybreak the first time and I cried on and off the entire day after the roof scene.
Alright, enough dithering! I’m going to say Serena, only because I think I would actually hang out with her if she was a real person. Laura’s too far out of my league.
Sleep was eluding her, as sleep often did. She had drifted off a few times, but always woke with a gasp, a thousand different outcomes at the Winter Palace haunting her dreams.
She was Maker-damned awful at the whole political aspect of the Inquisition, so in response, they’re sending her into the den of snakes and telling her to play nicely.
The Empress was doomed.
She sighed and rolled over to face Bull, barely visible through the first red rays of daybreak; he was lying on his back, snoring quietly but contently, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. He had a wondrous habit of always sleeping in the nude – regardless of whether they were in their shared tent or in Skyhold, the man truly had no modesty – but she never complained. On the contrary, she was grateful when he slept in the nude. She needed rest, and few things exhausted her more than rolling in the sheets with him.
Was checking out some of the late game weapons and stumbled upon this little gem. Each line belongs to one of the final Shah Dalamadur weapons.
With the first daybreak, Shah Dalamadur defined the earth by drawing the horizon.
As sunshine came a second time, Shah Dalamadur created the fields with its feathery rays.
Third came twilight, and Shah Dalamadur parted the golden waves and created land.
With the fourth celestial glow, Shah Dalamadur bared his fangs and called it the wind.
At the fifth evening glow, Shah Dalamadur created time and its coils of memory.
With the sixth fall of darkness, Shah Dalamadur wrote joyous songs to heal our hearts.
With the seventh deep night, Shah Dalamadur hewed mountains out of the darkness.
With the eighth full moon, Shah Dalamadur created pillars upon which the earth would shake.
Ninth came sunset, and Shah Dalamadur created heaven to catch the earth below.
With the tenth heat haze, Shah Dalamadur invented fantasy, to help us find reason.
With the eleventh night mist, Shah Dalamadur created the crucible of life.
With the twelfth midnight, Shah Dalamadur created a river of stars for the earth to admire.
With the thirteenth shooting stars, Shah Dalamadur gouged out caverns with his tail.
With the fourteenth sunrise, Shah Dalamadur created the light that begins everything.