It was the first time Callie saw her, really saw her since she came back to Seattle. The night had just began, street lamps on coming alive on queue, people slowly allowing themselves to stumble and smile as alcohol soared through their veins. It was a normal Friday night.
Callie sat at the bar, memories of her days as a resident at the hospital nearby causing a smile or two. The laughs that boomed from a woman across the room made her twitch and sigh and wish she had stayed at her new home that night instead of coming to a dirty bar.
When bladder began to twitch, her fingers let her glass slip from shaky fingers onto the flat surface while her legs carried her to the bathroom.
It wasn’t long before she stood in front of the all too familiar bathroom, the dirty mirror in the dirty bar bathroom at the dirty bar highlighting the tired lines under her eyes, eyes that widened when stunning blue caught her attention.
She turned around, words suddenly foreign and stuck in her throat.
“Calliope,” Arizona breathed taking a step forward. They were close, each inhale and exhale felt by the other, each heart beat thumping hard enough to see through layered clothing and tension so fragile that just a word could break the moment they shared.
Yes, it was this moment that Callie had seen Arizona, really seen Arizona since coming back to Seattle. The stolen glances, forced smiles and lack of touches all led up to this moment, their moment.
They had so much to say, so much to say.
“Calliope,” Arizona said again taking another step closer. Callie could feel the heat radiating off of Arizona and it took everything in her not to grasp it, nourish it, take it all in to warm the chill that leaked down her spine. “You look really pretty.”
Their past; the good, the bad, the brilliant kisses, horrible words, tasteful kisses, emotional pain. It all hit her full force, the world stopping just for this moment.
Despite the distance that separated them, they had found each other, and Callie was going to make sure they would never lose one another again.
Frosted windows shook quietly against the wind of Ishgard. Cold breezes that swept up the snow in soft flurries that danced across the stone walkways and decorated the tight corners of each frame that peered over the pillars. Though the estate had been quiet since the departure of children, it was never so silent. A lone clock chimed in the hall, the crackle of flames in the hearth that sat in the center of the bedroom was meant to give warmth and comfort. It offered nothing now but illumination on the parchment that the old elezen held in his hand. The armchair held his looming finger, bent over as he stared at the letter as if he had misunderstood it the first few times he’d read it. Yet, it was all plainly stated in elegant writing.
Lord and Lady Oraguille,
We extend our deepest apologies to the recent loss…
Over and over the words were traced with his eyes, yet even after three days he was still unable to process it.
The doorway framed his wife, ever elegant in her fine linens and lace, though she’d donned dark blues and blacks since the courier had arrived. In her still-smooth hands, she held another cup of tea for her beloved husband, stepping forward to set it on the small side table next to the man’s chair. Nothing was said as no words could soothe him now, only the clinking of three other cold cups of drink were carefully picked up to be taken to the maids in the hallway.
Cosette had known long before the letter arrived. The cold ping in her heart and the feeling of absence had alerted her that she’d lost yet another of her loves. This time, however, they were not simply gone from home to be missed for a brief period of time. Her handmaidens bowed and excused themselves as she stepped toward the library, closing the door but for a crack while making her way back to the desk tucked next to the multiple bookshelves. With pen in hand, she adjusted herself over the unfinished writing and took a deep breath, once more attempted to reach out to her last.
To my beloved son…
My dearest Galaihaurat,
I apologize for not writing you more often. As a mother, it is my duty to keep in touch so that you do not lose your recognition of home. Ishgard stands among a small civil unrest after the events of our treaty with the dragons, but you are well aware of what would come with such exchange of handshakes.
But it is not why I write you.
I’ve no words for what I am to tell you. It aches my heart to not have you here where your father and I need you. I hope that you are among friends that will extend a hand for I am not sure how you will take this news.
My love, we have received confirmation they have found your sister. At least, all that was found of her in the last place she was known to stand. Forgive me for my failings as a mother to protect you both, for the inability of me as a parent to lead you into safety and for my ignorance in believing the evils of the world would not claim my children.
Your father sits now in loss. He has not eaten nor drank in three days since the letter arrived. I beg of you, come home. If not for me, for your father.
With My Love,
As the quill clinked into the inkwell, Cosette lifted the edge of the paper to fold it. Her finger slipped against the edge as a loud crash came from down the hall, causing her to leap upward and throw open the door as one of her maids returned her gaze in horror.
Cosette stepped into the bedroom, finding her husband on his knees with the note ripped in half while he sobbed. The chair lay on its back, tea splayed across the floor. She stood with her hand to her heart, unable to bear the sight of her husband so broken. A man who had put everything behind his children, now suffering the loss of his only daughter. With a quick inhale, Cosette turned to usher the maids away, closing the door as she moved to gather up her husband against her chest while he clung to her.
She swallowed her tears, brushing her fingers through his white hair and rocking softly.
I was really curious as to what the hell this line was about, so I looked it up and it’s a reference to a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, “The Cask of Amontillado,” about a man named Montresor, who murders his friend, Fortunato. Claiming that Fortunato has insulted him one too many times, Montresor lures him down into a basement, gets him drunk, chains him up in an alcove, then walls him in and leaves him there. As he puts in the final layer of bricks, he hears Fortunato desperately screaming,
“For the love of God, Montresor!”
Montresor ignores his pleas for mercy, finishes building his wall and then happily goes on with his life.
This is what Spike is talking about when he tells Buffy to scream ‘Montresor’ all she wants. He’s saying, give it up, there’s no point. No matter how desperately you appeal to my humanity, it won’t make a difference because there’s none left.
This is why I love the writing in Buffy so much: even season 7, which really isn’t my favourite, has gems like this, that pack in so much extra meaning. At first, to someone who isn’t familiar with American Romantic literature (like, say, probably 60% of the audience and Buffy), he appears to be talking gibberish but then, once you actually go to the trouble of looking up the damn reference, a passing knowledge of the story suggests that this is an expression of self-loathing. If you go one step further and actually read and reflect upon the scene in question, you become aware of the very creepy similarities between the murder and the infamous attempted rape - Spike could be drawing a parallel between the murder of Fortunato and the AR in
Seeing Red - Buffy crying out for him to stop and him ignoring her. More than that, Montresor was supposed to be Fortunato’s friend. In fact, in the narration, he continues to refer to him as ‘my friend’ even when he’s sealing him into the wall. This is more than an act of heartless violence, this is betrayal.
A lot of people accuse Spike fans of being rape apologists. Some Spike fans actually are, sadly. But it’s clear that no one blames Spike more for the attempted rape than Spike himself. Spike is well aware of how deeply he betrayed Buffy and this little throwaway line shows it. Does it excuse the fact that he did it? No. But it’s still heart breaking to see him view himself this way, convinced that there is no hope for him. There’s no point in even attempting to get out of the basement, because he just isn’t worth it. Just how much emotional impact can one stupid literary reference deliver anyway?
Once you’ve even parsed all the layers of what Spike’s trying to convey by saying that, there’s still the fact that he’s somehow managing to dig up a reference to a relatively obscure short story, even though he’s insane and being mentally tortured to the First. I’ve seen people suggest that Spike’s literary pretensions went out the window with his soul when Drusilla sired him and that he didn’t read as much after, but I’ve always headcanoned that he remained a bookworm - although he probably became a lot less discerning in his choice of literature. I imagine that William probably read a lot of the Romantics: their ideas of re-instituting an age of harmony between man and nature by means of a universal transcendental poetry would almost definitely have appealed to him, particularly with their tendency to fixate on romantic love. I can’t picture him enjoying a tale as gruesome as The Cask of Amontillado but I’m pretty sure Spike would’ve loved it.
I adore the infinite layers of meaning behind this one short line. This kind of writing is why BtVS will never get old.
Video Games and Trains | Kenma Kozume One-Shot by imagineverything-anything
Who: Kenma Kozume x Gender Neutral!Reader
Summary: Who would’ve thought that a train and video game would lead to something more?
Word Count: 1,620
Genre(s): Fluff, sfw
You had been playing this video game for awhile now and it was really starting to make you mad. Everything up until now was fairly easy, so easy that you practically flew through it without much thought. And now you were stuck.
It wasn’t often this happened. You’ve been playing video games ever since you learned how to work a controller. Years of playing made almost every game you played easy. Almost.
The train you were on came to a stop, it’s open doors inviting more passengers on as others got off. You were so wrapped up in trying to beat the final boss you hardly noticed. The doors closed and the train started moving again just as you died for the sixth time since boarding the train. You let out a frustrated huff and pressed restart, letting the game on your device reset itself to the last checkpoint.
Is it angst, or is it mystery? Who knows! I left the ending for this quite open. You can interpret it how you want. I just wanted to depict Clint’s loyalty, even to those he doesn’t quite get on with [yet], much like with Pietro. Thank you to @cosmichorse95 for this request. I perhaps took the title of Unsteady too literally but screw it, I’m rubbish at Song!Fics. I hope you all like it!
Can you do a loki or thor or hawkeye x reader based on “Unsteady” by X-Ambassadors? Oh a d I loved Fairytale! Not that it’s much of a shock, I love all your fics :D
“We got a tip,” Nat said, waving the file in front of
Clint’s face. He grunted, and paused his video game. He was already perfect at
it anyway. Nat liked to joke that it was because he spent all day on it, every
day. He called it training.
“A building on Main Street. Potentially got our guy.”
“I appreciate your attitude but we can’t just go busting in a building on a tip,” Clint smirked, resuming his game.
Nat pushed his feet off of the coffee table, and lowered
herself onto it, purposefully blocking his view of the television. It was the
only reason he came to Stark tower anymore.
“I know that, genius,” She smirked, watching him roll his
eyes before pausing his game again, “but I’ve got a plan.”
Nat kicked his shin.
“Are you in or would you rather fight zombies?”
“They’re clickers actually.”
“Whatever. They creep me out.”
“And you creep me out. What else is new?”
“Guess I’ll just take the new girl then,” Nat sighed,
standing up. Now Clint turned off the Xbox completely.
“What do you mean? What new girl?”
Tony Stark had been your best friend for years. Oddly enough, even though the man was quite a bit older that you, the two of you had formed a quite special relationship. Tony loved Pepper, and you loved Pietro, but often when you would accompany Tony to different parties and events, the press would take a snapshot of Tony with his arm around you or the two of you laughing together and spread it as an affair. The star crossed lovers within the Avengers Initiative. Tony and yourself would look back and laugh at the presses stories of ‘secret’ vacations. Pepper knew all about the situation, the two of you were actually rather close and spent considerable amounts of time together. Pietro however, was not as understanding as the mishaps and lies people would feed viewers to get more reviews and revenue, profit. He would often disregard the papers or change the channel when the gossip would take over the screens and papers, but seeing the two of you in person was worse. Tony and yourself seemed to gravitate towards each other, every time you felt uncomfortable in the large crowd, Tony would come to your rescue. Every time Tony got a bit too comfortable at the bar, or caught the eye of some young gold digger when he was too wasted to think straight, you would come in and help him sober up, saving him from the people who would take advantage of him in his slightly vulnerable state. Pietro would watch from his normal place beside his sister, his eyes burning with jealousy as he watched Tony calm you down or make you laugh.
“If you glare any harder, Tony might notice and you wouldn’t want Y/N to ding out about your hate for her best friend,” Wanda teased, poking Pietro in hopes of distracting him from the scene occurring across the room. Currently Tony was taking your hand, sarcastically asking for a dance. You did a over dramatic curtsy before allowing him to guide you onto the dance floor.
“I don’t like how he’s touching her,” Pietro growled, keeping his voice low as he watch Tony grasp your hand as well as your waist, pulling you close against him. Pietro watched as you leaned over, resting your elbow on Tony’s shoulder, whispering something into his ear that made the man throw his head back laughing.
“Calm down Pietro,” Wanda warned as she noticed Pietro beginning to shake. “You know she means nothing by it Pietro. She loves you, more than anything,” she attempted to cool off her twin. She placed her hand on his shoulder, only to be shaken off by his vibrations. Wanda acted quickly, not wanting to cause too much of a scene as she dragged her twin out of the large room. Entering the hallway into the venue she scanned the area for a spot she could leave him to get Y/N, deciding the broom closet would work. She opened the door and shoved in her twin, who was shaking violently, eyes gone dark in a fit of rage. “Stay here, I’ll get Y/N,” Wanda said before closing the door and rushing back to the room.
You had noticed your boyfriend’s disappearance just after Wanda dragged him out of the room. Excusing yourself from Tony, who just grabbed Pepper and continued dancing, you walked towards the door, just in time to run into Pietro’s twin, Wanda.
“Oh thank goodness, it would have been bad if I had to track you down. So Pietro is kind of having a breakdown slash fit of violent range in the broom closet right outside if you don’t mind addressing that problem. Good luck,” Wanda said, the words almost coming out all scrambled together before she turned on her heel and headed towards the bar along the side wall of the room. You shot her an odd look, wondering how on Earth those two twins were ever thought of as normal before exiting the banquet hall.
“Why in the world would he be in a broom closet?” You mumbled to yourself as you walked down the hallway. You had almost passed the closet before a hand shot out quicker that light, opened the door, pulled you inside the closet, and closed the door again.
“Good Lord! Give a girl some warning next time would ya?!” you exclaimed as you came face to face with your very very attractive boyfriend. He looked pissed off, dark eyes narrowed, barley containing the shaking of his body and in that suit, damn. It’s like he wanted to sexually frustrate you to the point that you would jump him.
“What the fuck was that?” he growled, his voice deep as he spoke through gritted teeth. You could tell he was holding back from yelling at you in his native tongue, after You had gotten onto him about it enough, the both of you saved that purely for the bedroom.
“What? Me dancing with Tony? Babe we do that at like every party we go to. It’s no big deal, you know we are just friends,” You tried to explain, only resulting in Pietro’s hands roughly grabbing your waist and pushing you against the door of the closet, letting go of you for a second to lock the door, the distinct click of the lock assured you that he would not be taking lightly any actions that had occurred tonight.
“Hold on tight printessa. I’m gonna make you forget that bastard’s name.“
Hello! So I have been told that this needs smut, so if you want a part two featuring smut, please just send in a request and I will get right on it. Also, we LOVE The Avengers so if you want anything for those guys, feel free to let us know!