#i was like losing it over th colouring yesterday like this SUCKS and then looked at it 2day n was like. anyway | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oneatlatime · 11 months

Text

Imprisoned

The opening shot's background has to be a watercolour.

I don't see Katara looking for food. If she's going to complain, she can find her own dinner.

This looks comfy.

Sokka two for two so far: only one getting food, only one with any common sense. Sokka has mom friend vibes here.

I see my prediction about Katara going nuts upon meeting a teenage boy who isn't her brother is about to come true.

Looks like we're back up to the standard of beauty set by the Southern Air Temple. It's all so colourful.

"Look at how they're dressed." This brings up a point I've been thinking about: Aang & company know that the fire nation is after them. Why aren't they making even a token effort at disguise? They could even wear the same styles, just in brown or green.

Ah yes, natural.

"how can you say that?" Katara - you've known these people like five minutes and narrowly avoided getting them into trouble once already. Maybe don't go around judging them like you know their whole life story? Also that comparison will mean absolutely nothing to the earthbender's mom. What does she know about your relationship to your waterbending?

Katara is painfully out of character here: "What can the fire nation do to you that they haven't done already?" Would Katara, who has already mentioned multiple times that the fire nation straight up killed her own mother, believe that the Fire Nation would go no farther than a protection racket?

Kudos to the mom for giving them shelter for the night.

Every shot in this episode so far is very pretty. I don't want this post to devolve into 75 screenshots so just imagine I'm going 'ooh pretty' a lot.

And Katara mentions her mother again! See, she's very aware of what the fire nation does.

"It's not enough, is it?" Raw line. And a good point.

At what time of day is this episode happening? The atmosphere seems unnaturally yellow. Maybe it's mining dust in the air?

Not good deed goes unpunished. This won't come back to bite them at all.

Sokka right again on the need to leave asap. Seriously, I do not envy him the impossible task of herding a flighty 12 year old (who also tops the fire nation's most wanted list) and a stubborn-just-because younger sister all the way across the world. Like herding cats, if cats also had the ability to blow you across town and drown you on dry land.

Now it's night time. Ok, must have been some funky dusk lighting.

Nice bait and switch with the soldiers coming to the door. It fooled me.

Sucking water out of the pump like that seems like a great way to lose the prime.

Katara didn't quite force him. But I don't think he would have done it if Katara hadn't been there to talk him into it. I still think it's a little bit her fault, but it wasn't all her fault. Kudos once again to the mom for not blowing up at Aang & friends. They've been in town maybe 12 hours and her son, who has managed to evade capture as an earthbender for - what, five years? - gets immediately arrested.

Katara's plan is to get herself arrested by the same people who, as she intimately knows, have the ability to kill people's moms. You know what, I was right. Katara just goes out of her mind around teenage boys.

Sokka why are you on board with this? They also killed your mom. You know that's a thing they can do. You have no guarantee that these fire nation soldiers are as bad at capturing the Avatar as Zuko is. You saw yesterday that these soldiers are willing to burn down buildings for pocket change, what do you think they'll do to your hotheaded sister who runs her mouth at the slightest injustice?

Avatar universe version of the squirrel joke from Up.

Ok this is obviously an episode with a tone switch in the middle. From super-serious bonding over shared trauma to gooftastic misadventure. Kind of tonal whiplash. I guess I should stop trying to take this episode seriously from this point on.

Poor Sokka. He is surrounded by idiots.

I think Aang's ears are the biggest. Of the humans.

Once again guys, can you not throw something beige on? You're on a stealth mission.

Are the things on the left and right ship hulls under construction? Is the fire nation fleet built by prisoners of war?

Why would anyone think that Katara knows what she's doing? Although I will say that there's no better place to be a waterbender.

So it is a ship yard. Fleet built by prison labour. Huh.

What is up with this warden?

I hereby rescind all previous objections to characters' lack of disguises. This guy is less than a foot away from a water tribe necklace being worn by someone whose sleeves are obviously blue and he spots nothing. Maybe fire nation people are colour blind? Sartorially inept?

Bending racism. Bendism? I'm actually surprised that this is the first time it's really come up. Once I understood the magic system I figured the superiority/inferiority of the elements would be a big plot point.

This show has consistently gorgeous skies.

Was that really the only way to find them? They couldn't have asked around? The prisoners and prison staff need food and supplies. Those have to come from somewhere, so someone knows. I'm putting too much thought into this again.

I think I know the father's voice actor. He sounds familiar.

Katara once again back on her "how can you say that?" bullshit. Judgy much.

Katara put a sock in it! You just announced your very non-earth kindgom origins to the entire rig. And come to the attention of the warden. She has a death wish. How is Sokka going to keep her alive all the way to the north pole?

I like this! I didn't work!

And she's back to being an idiot. Obviously she's going to end up freeing them in the end, because this is a kids' cartoon and they don't get unhappy endings as a rule, but an ending that affirms Katara's bleeding heart tendencies is only going to make things worse in the long run. Because next time she goes on a justice spree and does something even stupider she'll be over confident due to her success here.

You want a way to help them? Defeat the fire nation.

Sokka sure puts up with a lot.

It's a good thing that the Snidely Whiplash division of the fire nation forces is in charge of this particular rig, rather than the mom-killing division.

The humour is not landing with me in this episode.

What was Katara's plan for freeing the prisoners if Sokka wasn't there to come up with the whole plan? Just hope really hard?

The father would be right, if they didn't have the Deus ex avatar with them.

Straight facts from the warden here. If he hadn't kept running his mouth I bet not even the not-yet-broken-in-spirit guy would have acted. But he did keep talking, and so wrought his own downfall. Nice.

Badass line from old guy here, but I'm being a nitpicky little shit today, so I gotta ask: was the warden really a coward? 'Colossal asshole hopped up on his own power' seems more accurate. I guess you can't say asshole in a kids' show.

Appa can keep up with coal-powered ships. Speedy boy. Also where's his saddle in this shot?

You really think you'll be able to take back your villages? You think the fire nation is going to lose out on a source of coal without a fight? Yeah, yeah, kids' show, consequences handwaved.

Perfect one scene summary of Aang: uses prodigious bending powers to play with his friends. Also a callback to the butterfly.

By freeing the boy's father, so that the boy has more than just one thing (his earthbending) to remind him of his family, Katara loses the one thing (the necklace) that she had left of her mother. That is ouch.

Hey Zuko! haven't seen you in a while. Your hand is giant. Your haircut is still trash, but you are surprisingly menacing in this shot.

Bad guy and beautiful sky. As tonally dissonant as the rest of this episode.

Final thoughts

The credits tell me that the guy's name is Haru. I wasn't even going to try to spell it until I saw it written down. They also tell me that his dad is voiced by Kevin Michael Richardson. A quick google tells me that he was in Lilo & Stich, which is where I known him from. Also the warden is George Takei? A bit on the nose to have him playing the warden in a POW camp. Also he deserved a better character.

If it's not already obvious, I don't like this episode. The visuals were consistently beautiful, and it started off strong with exploring loss and the realities of war. Then it descended into girl power fantasy / looney tunes episode. Turns out that Katara's plan for getting through life is to cause problems and let Sokka fix them.

What was Katara's plan for freeing the earthbenders if Sokka hadn't come up with the coal plan? Was she going to try another speech? She was determined to stay until she freed them, but how was she going to do that? Haru getting arrested was somewhat her fault, so she was sort fixing a problem of her own making. Fixing what you broke is a good lesson, but this whole plot line still bugs me.

This kind of turned into a Sokka episode. And it's wonderful how supportive he is of his idiot sister. And he's obviously been that way their whole lives, because Katara basically expects him to fix things. She looks to him for a plan. But it's also not so wonderful how all of his very legitimate (and correct) concerns were steamrolled over. And why was he ok with the fire nation arresting his sister?

Even Aang is kind of a dud in this episode. Why is Aang ok with letting the fire nation arrest Katara?

There was some sibling stuff in this episode that was interesting. Sokka being Katara's constant support even when her problems are very much self-inflicted; Katara expecting Sokka to fix things, or even just keep them fed, to the point where it's basically an unconscious expectation on her part.

Mostly this episode just felt out of character. The backgrounds were consistently gorgeous and it's nice to see Aang take a backseat and get to hang out with some animal friends. But I don't think this one is going on my re-watch list.

I have to come up with a collective noun for Aang, Katara, Sokka, Appa, & Momo.

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #imprisoned #avatar the last airbender

32 notes · View notes

boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

New Romantics | Part Four

18+

Summary: She needs help studying for her Case Exercises at the Academy, He needs a date for the annual Banquet... they just so happen to be neighbours who aren't afraid to lend a helping hand, or in this case, a helping kiss.

Categories: Fake dating, neighbours, strangers to lovers, mutual pining, Angst with a happy ending, Smut *as selected by my poll on what you wanted to read*

Warnings: Season 9 Spencer (no Maeve arc), Angst, kissing, drinking, police training mentions, case details, canon typical violence, self-doubt, autistic!spencer, age gaps (24/33), FWB relationships, anxiety attacks, crying, misunderstandings, oral sex (both), penetrative sex, Perv!Spencer low-key, public sex, quickies, multiple orgasms,

Word Count: 5k

a/n: what could possibly go wrong next?

She’s been asleep barely 2 hours when he shakes her awake, “Hey, when did you need to get ready today?”

“Uh?” She sits up and rubs her eyes, “we don’t have to leave until 1 so, like 11?”

“It’s 8:30, did you want to stay and sleep more?”

She looks at him and sighs, “are we okay?”

He nods, “can we just call it even?”

“Sure,” she agrees without knowing what she did wrong. It was more than just snapping on Tuesday, which is what she was still hurt over. “But I’m going to go, I need to change and stuff.”

“Yeah,” he nods but his smile is sad and she knows she’s fucking it up more.

She gets out of his bed, once it was the warmest bed she’s ever known. Any bed she shared with him was, but now it felt cold and uninviting and there was an unspoken knowingness that they were both genuinely upset.

“I’m still your fake girlfriend for the next 24 hours… can we make them count?” She asks, avoiding eye contact so he can't see her cry if he says no.

“Come here?”

She gets back into the bed and she cuddles into his chest. He holds her for a moment, “you’ve been the best girlfriend in the whole world. Do you really still want to be friends after this? Have I fucked up that bad?”

“Oh honey,” she places a hand on his cheek and looks at him softly, “I will be your neighbour, your best friend, your co-worker, carpool buddy, coffee friend, girlfriend, whatever you need as long as you’d like to have me around.”

He remembers the first time she said that and she knows because his smile is the same. “I love you.”

It hurts, “I love you, too.”

She kisses him quickly, attempting to pull back when his fingers grip her hair and his tongue is on her lips and she’s following his lead again.

“No,” she whispers, “I can’t.”

“Oh,” he stops and his hands drop to his sides so she can get back up.

“I’m going to go get ready, but I’ll come back when I’m done?”

“Yeah,” he nods again.

It breaks her heart to get up and go, she grabs her shoes and she sneaks out of his room, finding her keys in her pocket, she opens her own door and cries the second the door closes.

She cries in the shower, she cries while fixes her hair, she cries while she has lunch. Every song reminds her of the situation, every section of her apartment reminds her of him, the stupid door where they first kissed is closed and she wishes he was stable enough to bang on it and demand an answer.

Whatever was going on between them was reaching a bubbling over point, she can only store so much emotion before she explodes on him.

As soon as she is in her dress, makeup on and ready to go, she walks into his apartment to find him struggling with his bowtie, it makes her smile for the first time since she left his room this morning, “need help?”

“Yes, please.”

She walks over to him and repeats the same movements he attempted, making the bow look pretty before smoothing her hands over his dress shirt and looking up at him. “Handsome as ever.”

“You’re always beautiful,” he compliments her right back but his voice is still as sad as the night before.

“Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on in there?” She pries, tapping his temple with her index finger, “you’re my best friend and I don’t like seeing you sad.”

“I heard what you said yesterday,” he whispers, “about how if you were just using someone you would have picked Derek.”

“And?” She doesn’t get why it’s a big deal because it makes perfect sense to her in her mind.

“And it hurt me,” he snaps, “quite a lot!?”

And the dam breaks.

“Because I proved to them that I’m not using you? Spencer do you know what I meant by that?” She snaps right back.

“What else could it mean?! Clearly I’m not hot enough for you to just fuck and toss aside—”

“I meant that I love you and that’s why I’m with you! If I was just using someone for a job then I’d fuck Derek cause he’s a one and done, toss them to the side and never see them again, kind of guy!”

“And?” He repeats her word choice in a snippy tone that makes her furious but she knows he’s just trying his best to understand her.

She sighs loudly and obnoxiously, “and you’re a take him to meet your mom, marry and have his babies, love him for the rest of your life and one day scatter his ashes, kind of lover.” Crying by the end, she wipes her tears and tries to stay somewhat presentable-looking.

He’s silent, eyes wide as he takes in all her words, “I have always loved you,” she adds, “and no matter how fucking angry I am or how stressed or upset, I am never going to stop loving you, Spencer.”

“Me either,” his tone is still just as upset, “and that's the part that sucks.”

“What do you mean?” She just poured her heart out to him and he still doesn’t get it.

“I LOVE YOU!” He screams it at her with his hands thrown in the air, “I love you more than I’ve loved anyone in my entire fucking life and it’s driving me crazy!”

“It’s driving you crazy?” She can’t help but laugh like she’s losing her mind, “I have been doing everything in my power to make you understand that I love you and you keep thinking I just want to be friends!”

“Because you said you loved me like a friend the first time?!”

“No, I fucking didn’t!” She is so frustrated she’s turning the same colour as her dress, steaming from her ears like a cartoon character.

“I asked if best friends can be in love because I wanted to see if you would say you loved me more than that, and then you fucking said “yeah cause that’s how I love you” which means you love me as a friend?!”

“Because I thought that’s what you wanted?!”

She can’t rub her eyes cause she’ll ruin her makeup but she is so mad she just wants to scream. Pressing her fingers to her own temples, she turns away from him and sighs, she loves him so much and yet this is the most frustrating thing that’s ever happened.

“You are so lucky,” she just laughs, shaking her head back and forth as she turns back to him, “you are so fuckin’ lucky.”

“Why?”

She wraps her arms around his middle and looks up into his eyes with one last sigh, “we have to go or we’ll be late, so I can’t explain all of my feelings right now, so let’s bench this conversation and I can show you just how much I love you when we get back?”

“Okay,” he nods. He rests his hands on her arms and he looks down with the softest glance, he’s still trying so hard to not cry. “I’m really sorry.”

“So am I, I should have listened to you better and explained myself more,” she whispers, “do you believe me now?”

He nods, “I told you, it’s hard for me.”

“I tried my best to be subtle so I didn’t scare you off, but I guess you really don’t do subtle?” She can’t help but laugh, “but I really do love you.”

His hands are on her cheeks, pulling her into a kiss, she melts against him. He breathes her in, it’s the longest and deepest kiss she’s ever had and she honestly feels like he’s taking her soul and making her his. She belongs to him and she knows it, now he does too.

“I love you, too.”

—

All eyes are on her and it makes him smile, she’s the only one in a red dress in a room full of black and white, she stands out like a sore thumb. She looks the most beautiful, she stands beside Spencer with her arm wrapped around his and a huge smile on her face, it makes him even happier to see her smile again.

The hardest part of fighting with her was knowing she was upset and that he was only making it worse. Seeing her smile return is everything to him, he loves her more than words can express and she loves him right back, he can tell by the way she smiles at him; because it’s exactly the same way he’s smiling at her.

“I see that you’ve made up,” Derek interrupts their current dance to say hello.

The BAU team was always so busy on nights like this, they had all the best stories and everyone wanted to hear them, which meant they typically didn’t see each other a lot for the whole night.

“We did,” Spencer smiles. “Thank’s Derek.”

She looks up at them both, confused, “how many of them know?”

“Huh?” He plays dumb but she can see right through him.

“Do they all know I’m not really your girlfriend or is it just Aaron, Derek and whoever else you told?”

“Elle,” he says her name. “I told the first girl I slept with that I was falling in love with you because I needed advice from someone who has already been with me and knows how I get.”

“Sick, cool, love that for you,” she smiles and walks away.

He grabs her and she stops, “I told you how much it hurt that I had no one to talk to and you told all of them? And you couldn’t even tell me you really loved me this whole time? I thought we were best friends Spencer?” She shakes her head, disappointed more than anything, swatting his hand off her as he reaches to stop her.

“Let her go, she’s right to be a little mad,” Derek holds him back. “let her be mad.”

“Why?” Spencer is so new to relationships he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“She wants to be your girlfriend for real, let her calm down and then go apologize and ask her,” Derek's smile is sweet as he pulls Spencer into a hug.

It slowly becomes a dance, everyone is used to Derek being touchy with his friends, he has danced with everyone so far tonight so it’s only fair Spencer has a turn. Spencer holds him tight, eyes closed so he doesn’t have to think about all the attention he’s been getting since they arrived.

“Thank you for always being here for me,” he whispers, “but I have to go see her.”

“Fights like this just make your relationship stronger, it teaches you how she wants you to communicate, she just wants you to be honest with her, always,” he whispers with his cheek pressed to Spencer's, “and angry make-up sex is really fun.”

It makes him laugh, “thanks, but she won’t be sleeping with me for a few days, if my memory is correct then she’s mad for more than one reason.”

“Ah,” Derek gets it, “good luck my friend. Good luck.”

When Spencer pulls away, he heads in the direction Y/N left and follows the hallway as far as it goes. She’s sitting on a bench by a window, staring off at the night sky as she takes some deep breaths. She looks a little more peaceful, she’s had a really rough few weeks and he’s not making it any easier on her.

“I know two things for sure,” he speaks softly but she still jumps a little as she turns to him.

“What would they be?”

“That you’re the love of my life,” he’s confident as he sits on the bench beside her and takes her hand in his. “And I’m an idiot when it comes to love.”

“That is quite the dilemma,” she smirks, her eyes gleam as she looks at him and he knows she was trying not to cry by how glossy they are, but it makes her more beautiful, somehow.

“I’m really sorry.”

“All you have to do is tell me the truth, Spencer,” she places her hand on his leg and leans in with a whisper, “it’s really simple.”

“Truth is,” he whispers right back, lips close enough to kiss, “I’m never going to stop loving you, which means more stupid moments are in my future. Just so you know.”

She giggles and kisses him quickly, “I don’t mind being the smart one in the relationship, but you still have to ask.”

“Will you be my girlfriend and let me love you for the rest of my life, no matter how much I fuck up and drive you crazy?” He teases her, knowing she’ll say yes regardless.

“On one condition,” she can’t hide the smirk on her face and he’s nervous at what she’s thinking.

“Anything?”

“You let me love you for just as long? If not longer.”

He nods, “forever?”

She nods back before kissing him just as deeply as they did that morning, her hands in his hair as she presses his face into her’s with force. She holds him there and breathes him in, pulling back with a classic smooch sound, she smiles again, “you’re my boyfriend now.”

He nods with a small smile, “what should we do first as boyfriend and girlfriend?”

She bites her lip and pretends to think about it for a moment, “fuck in the linen closet down the hall?”

“I don’t have any condoms on me?” Is his only worry, not getting caught, not that all their bosses and superiors were there, just that he didn’t have a condom.

She pulls one out of her bra with a smile, “Savannah gave this to me about 3 minutes before you came over here.”

“How much make-up sex do they have?” He asks as he takes her hand and leads her down the hallway.

She’s giddy and smiling, her heels click on the floor as they rush to the other end of the hall and open the little door. There are shelves with towels and rolls upon rolls of silverware in cloth napkins. A vacuum in the corner, some brooms and just enough room for them.

She pulls him in closer and shuts the door, reconnecting their lips as she pushes him up against it. Hands reaching for his belt she kisses down his neck and he’s like putty in her hands as soon as she strokes him, he moans by accident and she covers his mouth with her free hand.

“Do you have any idea how turned on you make me? I have wanted to fuck you since I first saw you, 6 years ago…”

“Really?” His muffled voice behind her hand makes her laugh. She removes her hand and instead runs her fingers through his hair while taking a moment to look at him and really take it all in.

“Yeah,” she nods, “which is why I asked to sleep with you on the way home from the bar, I didn’t know if I could handle it either it, but I’ve always wanted Doctor Reid from the BAU to rail me. I just didn’t think we’d end up falling in love?”

“No one has ever admitted to having a crush on me and meant it,” he whispers.

“I’m glad I get to be one of your firsts,” she smiles again before he pulls her into another kiss.

She kisses the side of his mouth and then his jaw, down his neck and then she’s dropping to her knees in front of him. He’s hard in her hands but he twitches as he sees her like this, looking up at him with lust-blown eyes as she strokes him, she flattens her tongue and taps the tip of his cock to it.

He has to cover his own mouth or else he’s going to get them caught, he moans at the feeling, closing his eyes and that's when she takes him in her mouth. His free hand is in her hair, careful not to mess it up but enough grip to steady himself.

He tilts his head back against the door with a knock and a sign, “fuck,” he can’t help but talk into his hand which only makes it sound louder in the tight space.

She feels so good every single time and yet this one feels different, he looks down at her and she pulls off, “what’s wrong?”

“I love you,” he shrugs.

He helps her back up to her feet and she backs up against the shelves, “come here?”

He helps her hike her dress up, holding all the material up as he slips her underwear off and takes that condom back out of her bra with a single kiss to her chest. He rolls it over himself and lines up with her, her arms wrap around his shoulders as she looks at him, “show me how much you love me?”

He slides in and they don’t break eye contact as she takes him, her mouth opens in a silent gasp at the feeling, her hands grip his shoulders tighter as she steadies her ass on a shelf and wraps her legs around him while he bottoms out.

With a hand on her cheek and one on her lower back, he pulls out and thrusts back in with a smile as she bites back a moan, she pulls his face in close to hers to kiss him while he fucks her. The hand on his cheek slides down her neck, applying a small amount of pressure that makes her breathing hitch. She swallows sharply before his hand starts to trail over her breasts and then between them.

With a thumb on her clit, he fucks her a little harder while rubbing his thumb in a circle. She’s breathing heavily into his mouth, placing sloppy kisses against each other as they enjoyed each other.

She’s so close and he knows it, and then there is a knock on the door.

“Spence, we have a case when you’re done?” He hears Derek's voice behind the door and he can’t believe it.

“Okay!” He calls back without stopping, instead, he fucks into her a little faster.

“Oh!” She moans by accident before covering her mouth with a slap and wide eyes, moaning behind her hand as she bounces on his cock.

He kisses her hand, making her move it so he can press his lips back to hers and absorb all the noises she was going to make, her hands both reach for his back, gripping his suit jacket so tight he’s afraid she might rip it.

She cums with a shocked gasp, it’s as quiet as possible but it still echos around them as he gets closer and closer. He buries his face in her neck and accidentally moans as well as he cums, stilling his hips as he holds her there, sputtering his hips against hers as they catch their breath.

“I love you,” he manages to say between breaths, “that much.”

“You need to go,” she smiles.

He kisses her one last time before he pulls out, he loves the way she gasps every time he does so. She smiles after, their teeth clashing as they laugh, “I’m going to get in so much trouble.”

“I’m never going to get a job,” she shakes her head as she gets off the shelf and fixes her dress.

He takes off the condom and wraps it in some paper towel on the shelf, he’ll get rid of it later. She picks up her underwear, he thinks she puts them back on, but she really slides them into his pocket for him to find in the middle of the case when he reaches for something important...

—

She rides back to headquarters with Penelope and JJ, both of them want to ask and she knows it. Mainly because she looks like she’s had sex, and also because she asks to stop at the academy so she can get another pair of underwear from her locker.

It’s not until they’re in Penelope’s office that they ask, “what’s it like?”

“What’s what like?” She plays dumb.

“Dating Spencer?” Penelope says, “more specifically, having sex with him?” She mumbles and it makes Y/N laugh.

“In total, we’ve been having sex for 3 weeks now and I’ve had 21 orgasms, and we only really fuck on the weekends cause that’s when we’re not busy…” she grinds her teeth slightly with a raised brow, taking a deep breath, “yeah. It’s really great.”

“Holy shit?” They both look more shocked than she’s ever seen them. “How many has he had?” Penelope asks with a quiet voice, pretending she didn’t.

She laughs slightly, “like maybe 14? He’s really generous.”

“What the fuck?” JJ turns to Penelope and shakes her head and there’s something more there that Y/N can sense.

“Who’s Elle?” She asks and they both turn to her with the biggest eyes.

“How do you know about Elle?”

“She’s the first person he slept with?”

“When?” They both shout.

“So he wasn’t kidding. You guys really thought he was a virgin this whole time?” She looks at them like they’re crazy. “How?”

They both just shake their heads and sigh, stuttering and looking for words they don’t have. “We just never thought he could?”

“Snooze ya loose, I guess?” She shrugs, “so what is the case and how can I help?”

“Right! We have a case,” Penelope snaps back into it, “but seriously Elle? Are you sure you have your names right?”

“Penelope,” she looks at her seriously.

“Right, they’re headed to Roanoke.”

There was a child abduction of a 6-year-old girl, CARD and the BAU were both called out and that meant everyone was mingling on the two floors and they would use as much help as possible.

It also turns out that Anderson’s surrogate went into labour a little earlier than anyone expected; so he and his husband have left for paternity leave early. Leaving JJ without an assistant and she really needs help in the office for this one.

She catches on rather quickly, knowing the protocols from her training and she’s not afraid to ask questions. She’s still in her dress, her heels click on the tiles as she rushes around with files, making phone calls and running from the briefing room to Penelope’s office.

When they finally crack the case and apprehend the suspect, she sits down finally. It’s been 11 hours since the banquet, and she was exhausted beyond belief. She never slept the night before, Spencer was uncomfortable and she was in her jeans and when she did fall asleep, he was waking her up moments later to get ready.

It's Sunday morning at 9 am when Spencer finally returns back at headquarters. She’s sitting at his desk when he comes up and wraps his arms around her, “we’re going home, come on.”

“Don’t you have to debrief?”

“Did that on the way back,” he turns her around in the role chair and tilts her head up to look at him, she’s so tired and he can tell. “You have a big day tomorrow.”

“Ugh,” she stands up with his help, “I did enough profiling today and now I have a whole week to get through.”

“Just to come back and work here,” he smiles, “if you still want to?”

She wraps him up in a real hug and nods against him, “it’s so fun, even with all the murder.”

“Coming home to this is really nice,” he whispers before kissing her cheek quickly, “I’m glad you like it here.”

“Well, well, well,” Derek's voice is behind them. They pull away to see him smiling, arms wide as he saunters over, “if it isn’t the new romantics.”

“Did you have any suspicions?” Y/N asks, he was a profiler after all.

“I knew something was up,” he’s honest. “I knew you guys were actually doing stuff together, I just didn’t think there was so much angst behind closed doors?”

“You have no idea,” Y/N laughs, holding Spencer closer, “it took too long.”

“I thought you were fighting about the job, cause he wasn’t really upset until you were in Penelope’s office, and I heard the rumours even before he heard what you said,” Derek smiles again, “but I also knew you loved him and he loves you.”

“Correct,” she can’t help but smile. “But we really should head home.”

“Home we go,” Spencer agrees.

—

She asks him to unzip her dress the second they’re back in her apartment. She drops the dress to the floor and heads to the bathroom and he’s left alone in her room. It feels different now. He remembers kissing her in the living room for the first time like it was yesterday, he remembers the first time they had sex, the first time he said I love you, and now he’s here and she’s his girlfriend and he’s going to get to make more memories with her.

He’s so embarrassed by how much he’s been crying lately, something about being in his mid-30s was making him feel like he was about to go through menopause— he has never been very openly emotional, but it’s about time he lets himself feel. He wipes the tears and turns to face the wall while he takes his suit off.

He’s been through too much, a lot of which she doesn’t know of. She has promised him forever, whether she means it or not, and he’s worried he’s going to fuck it up before he gets there.

When she comes back, she lays a towel down on her side of the bed and gets in, “guess who got her period on her first day of work?”

“No?” He gasps, playing along with her playful mood. “At least you’re not pregnant.”

“Thank god,” she sighs, “please for the love of God, don’t get me pregnant for at least 5 years? I want a decent career first so that I don't miss much on maternity leave. I really don't want to be benched for having kids.”

He cries again and she looks so concerned as she gets out of bed and wraps her arms around him, “what did I say wrong, Spencer?”

Still facing the wall, he just lets it all out, “I’m sorry.”

“For what, sweetheart?” She attempts to soothe him by running her hands down his arms, “for crying or something else?”

“Crying,” he whispers and she turns him around then.

“Hey,” she looks up at him with the softest expression he’s ever seen, “you are allowed to have emotions, you are allowed to show them and ask for help and tell me when you need something. I’m not going to think you’re too much, or I can’t handle you or think of you as a burden. I know that’s how you feel because it’s how I fell, and we don’t need to go through that together.”

“I love you,” it’s the only thing that feels right to say.

“I love you,” she repeats it, “what made you cry?”

“Can we get in bed first?”

“Yeah, finish getting ready and then come tell me,” she whispers before reaching up and pressing a kiss to his lips.

He slips away to go to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and washing his face. He’s exhausted but he doesn’t want to miss any time with her. He hurries back to her side, getting into bed in his underwear and making sure both his phones are on the night table, charged and ready if they need him.

But until then, he belonged to her.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep?” It’s the first thing he asks because he knows she has a big day tomorrow. “It can wait.”

“What’s that thing you say about intermittent sleep is actually better?”

“Don’t use my words against me, I do that so people don’t stop me from doing what I think I deserve,” he’s truthful. “I’m not going to ever lie or fib to you again. I hate myself, and if I don’t feel like I’ve done enough I won't sleep or eat sometimes.”

“I do that too,” she’s not proud, “are you trying to tell me you cried cause you’re hungry or tired?”

“No,” he smiles, “but thank you for asking for clarification, I like this new system.”

“Me too.”

“I cried because I really love you and I’m realizing this is all real and I’m going to get to make good memories with you, and when you said kids, even in a hypothetical sense, it made it feel real for me,” he whispers the words before pressing his lips together awkwardly.

She glows in the lap light like she did that first night, “it’s a weird concept, isn’t it? The future. At some point I’m going to have known you longer than anyone, one day we’ll have lived with each other longer than we’ve lived apart. We might be grandparents together one day? It’s all weird to think about.”

“Do you seriously want all that with me?” He’s asking because he has another question to ask right after.

“Yes, Spencer,” she laughs. “I really do.”

“Would you like to Marry me?”

“Seriously?” Her eyes widen and her jaw drops and he’s never seen her look this stunned before.

He nods, “my mom isn’t going to able to appreciate my wedding the longer I wait, and if you really mean it; I’d like to have a wedding with my mom there while she remembers me.”

“I know her birthday is coming up, but can we bring her here instead?”

“Why?”

“My parents decided to drive from Salam to here for my graduation and use the flight money on a nice Airbnb for the week. We should do it while they’re all here because I don’t know when they’d be able to come back,” she has had the same worries about her parents missing her life.

“I’ll ask my mom,” he smiles. “So we’re getting married?”

“in like a week,” she laughs, “oh fuck, how are we going to do that in a week?”

He rolls over and grabs his personal phone, he dials a number and she looks even more confused now.

“Hey Penelope, how fast can you plan a wedding?”

Permanent tag list:

@g0lden-cth @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @ssavanessa22 @spookyspence @shemarmooresfedora @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @blanchardsbk @idonotexiste @measure-in-pain @dreams-in-blxck @doc-padfoot @nomajdetective @xoxomgg @mggswhorificlover @dinonuggets1967 @Meganskane @gubeskneescrew

New Romantics:

@bunny-script @ficsrecsforhrnybitches @ne--yo-pets @rexorangecouny @valerieweasley @beepbooptoop @coldlilheart @andiebeaword @anonymous-reading

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #new romantics

250 notes · View notes

aiiwa · 4 years

Text

LET HIM KNOW — SAWAMURA DAICHI.

✗ REQUEST: can i please make a request of jealous daichi ( a fic if it’s possible). this thought has been living in my head for the past week and i just 🤰. so basically daichi gets jealous of a boy talking to you and flirting with you and just grabs you by the throat/jaw and just tongues you down right then and there. a college au would be great too!

— sawamura daichi x fem!reader

⤷ genre: college au

⤷ warnings: suggestive content, cursing, jealous (?) or rather possessive daichi, boy who disrespects relationships and doesn’t know when to give up

⤷ word count: 1.7k

— a/n: hi! i just wanted to announce that i actually reached 200 followers yesterday and i am extremely grateful for everyone who takes the time to read, like, reblog my content and for those who even message me! i appreciate everything, thank you so much! 💖

out of everything you prepared in celebration for your four-year anniversary with your boyfriend, sawamura daichi; the last thing you expected was to spend it tutoring in the hour right before your date.

you had spent months prior planning this special night for the two of you. from having dinner at his favourite restaurant which served the best shoyu ramen, to the rose-petalled bubble bath surrounded by the pine and vanilla candles he’d gifted you last month; and then, of course, ending it in the best way possible with him buried balls deep inside you and fucking you til dawn.

it was while you were getting ready for your date that you received a panicked text message from haru, the sweet freshman you’d been tutoring for the past five months, asking if you could help him today. you tried to schedule a session for tomorrow, but he was insistent almost begging you; and with a discontented sigh you relented, telling him to meet you at the library in twenty. he’d replied with a quick - “thank you y/n-senpai! <3” - and the love heart attached at the end was purposely ignored, as you headed out of your studio apartment.

daichi was less than pleased when you had phoned him, informing him of the last minute tutoring session.

“angel, tell me you’re not serious right now.” his deep voice was clear-cut, despite the sounds of traffic in the background; a tell-tale sign that he was in fact already on his way to meet you.

“i’m sorry, dai. it shouldn’t take too long, haru-kun said-”

“haru? that little shit?”

sighing internally, and making your way towards the red-bricked building with the click-clack of your thigh-high boots against the pavement, you nodded your head as if he could see you. “yes, it was haru-kun who requested the session.”

“you know how i feel about that brat.”

daichi had been more than supportive when you first started tutoring to earn some money on the side, and even though most of your tutees happened to be boys, it didn’t bother him much since they would take one look at him and give up on trying to win over your affection. haru was different. he was the furthest thing from subtle when it came to his crush on you, but you could handle his endless compliments and his attempts to take you out on a date; your boyfriend on the other hand, couldn’t. as intimidating as daichi was, haru had all but given your boyfriend a lazy once over before scoffing and mumbling about how you could do so much better.

that was the first time in a long time that you had seen daichi almost lose his cool. since that day, any interaction between the two of them had been borderline hostile; with your boyfriend hissing whenever haru’s hand would brush against you, and in turn the younger male would complain about how daichi must not be treating you well enough whenever you had chosen to walk home instead of having him pick you up.

“i know, baby, but the session shouldn’t be that long.”

“y/n.” the baritone slivering through his voice had you faltering in your steps. “you know he’s doing this on purpose. that kid has no respect for our relationship, or me- he needs to know his place.”

“daichi…i’ll talk to him today.”

“hm.” he hums in response, his side of the call silent for a beat. you could hear the blinking of his indicator before he asks, “are you at the library?”

“yeah i am, haru is probably waiting inside for me already. i’ll message you, okay?”

“alright, i’ll see you soon.”

the call had been disconnected almost half an hour ago, and you found yourself zoning out for the umpteenth time while haru busied himself by yapping away next to you. flipping your cellphone in the palm of your hand, your brows furrowed, thinking about how daichi hadn’t ended the call with his usual - “i love you, angel.” - perhaps he was mad you? it didn’t happen often, but flashes of you writhing beneath him as his hand cracked against your ass after heated arguments, had you crossing a leg over the other; thighs clenched together in an attempt to relieve some of the tingling pressure.

“y/n-senpai~!” haru waved his hand in front of your face, forcing you to blink away the less than innocent images playing in your mind. “are you okay? i’ve been calling out to you for a while, i have a question.” haru almost whines.

“i’m fine, haru-kun, sorry. please repeat your question for me.”

manicure fingers brushed over the exposed flesh of your plush thighs, between the hem of daichi’s favourite pleated mini skirt of yours you decided to wear for him and the ink coloured boots that wrapped around your calves and past your knees. you hadn’t realised the already short skirt had risen up, and as you tugged it down it was hard not to notice haru’s gaze watching the action intensely. maybe it was time to talk to him.

“haru-kun, i think we should talk.”

his eyes lingered on your legs, slowly dragging themselves past the dip of your waist, over the curve of your breasts, before they met with your own.

his eyes are wide, smirk less than innocent, as he shifts his whole body to face you. “really? about what yn-senpai?”

“about my relationship with daichi.” at the mention of your boyfriend, haru’s expression morphs into a scowl. “listen, haru-kun.” you start, deciding to ease into it. “i’ve been with daichi for a long time, in fact today marks the anniversary of our fourth year as a couple...”

“and you’ve finally realised that he isn’t worthy of you.” ‘worthy of me?’ you think to yourself, completely taken aback; haru nods his head in understanding, as if he didn’t just completely misinterpret what you were trying to say to him.

“no, that’s not it-”

“come on, y/n-senpai, let me treat you how you deserve to be treated.” he rests his arm on the back of your chair casually. “i could give you everything he can and more. you just have to give me a chance.”

“that’s not going to happen, haru.” dropping the honorifics, tone snappy. you crossed your arms tightly across your chest.

“and why not?” he bites back. “what does he have that i don’t- did you tell him to come here?” he questions accusingly, staring over your shoulder.

“no…? i didn’t...”

swivelling in your seat, your breath hitches at the sight of your boyfriend heading straight towards you. each purposeful stride of daichi’s long legs, had the smooth material of his dress pants tightening around his strong thighs, the silver of his belt buckle glinting under the harsh library lights. his navy blue dress shirt stretched over his wide shoulders, first few buttons popped open to reveal his smooth, tanned skin underneath.

daichi stopped right by your seat, so close that you instinctively pressed the palm of your hand against his hip, feeling the warmth of his body through the thin cotton material. you were instantly surrounded by the sweet and familiar woodsy scent of his cologne, wafting around you and sending your senses into overdrive.

looking up at him, his pretty mouth was pulled into a devilish grin, pearly whites peeking from the corner of his lips and a single dimple poking through his cheek.

“hi, angel.” his voice was low, dripping in honey that washed over you; goosebumps prickling across your skin.

“daichi…?” a whisper was all you managed to get out. “h-how come you’re here...?”

“you look so fucking beautiful, y/n.”

haru’s scoff goes ignored, yanking his arm away from behind you and grumbling to himself in the background.

a warm flush rose in your cheeks as daichi continued to smile down at you, walnut coloured eyes appreciating every curve of your body; searing gaze lingering on your skirt, before he released an airy chuckle, almost kin to a growl. you could feel the heat pool between your legs, unconsciously leaning against his towering frame.

“i’m here because we’re gonna let him know…” daichi starts, loud enough for the boy to hear.

one arm flexes against the strain of his sleeves, sliding behind you to grip the back of your chair; the other reaching a large had to press against your cheek. the callouses on his palm are rough against your skin, thumb rubbing lazy circles before trailing down to the pout of your lips. dragging his thumb across your fullness of your bottom lip, your pink tongue darts out to taste the saltiness on the pad of his thumb. halting his ministrations, releasing a heavy breath out through his nose, he grabs your jaw, grip tight, and tilts your face to meet his as he leans downwards.

“...let him know that you’re mine.”

and then his lips are pressed against yours. it starts off sweet, sighing softly into him for a fleeting moment, before daichi deepens the kiss. it becomes sloppy, extremely possessive, and borderline nasty as drool at the corner of your mouth dripped down your chin; moans trapped down your throat. the lewd sounds of his tongue swirling around yours sensually, exploring your mouth, clouds the thoughts in your mind.

your body has a mind of its own, right hand tugging at the tufts of dark at his nape, while the left moves from his hip to trail across his navel. you grin when he bucks against your touch, yet gasp as sucks on your tongue. he consumes you entirely, and you’re all too willing to abide.

when he moves away, a string of silver keeps the two of you connected. you’re a whiny mess, mewling at him for more, and tugging at his sleeves for attention; while he sets his gaze on the sulking figure by your side.

“we’re leaving now. good luck studying, kid.” daichi calls out, smug look on his face.

he doesn’t even wait for a response, tugging you up and into his chest, while leading the way out of the library. stumbling a bit on wobbly legs, you grip his toned arms to steady yourself, as he holds onto your waist.

“dai.” you murmur, pushing up against him. “are we going to dinner now?”

“dinner?” he repeats, staring at you from the corner of his eyes. nodding your head, you feel the coil in your tummy tighten as his hand trails down to trace the underside of your ass. “forget about dinner, angel, i’m ready for my dessert.”

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #daichi x reader #daichi imagine #sawamura daichi #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu college au #sawamura daichi x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #daichi #haikyuu daichi

443 notes · View notes

feminist-propaganda · 3 years

Text

Single Mothers Will Probably Cry During Every Episode Of Queen’s Gambit - Episode 1

I’ll start this long piece with a quote by Toni Morrisson. She once said : “If there's a book that you want to read, but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it.”

After watching Queen’s Gambit yesterday I rushed to the Internet to see if someone had written all of the things I am about to write, all of the symbols I saw in the miniseries, all of the dog whistles, the references. I found articles about chess. About how the community had adopted the film, about which grandmasters the characters were based off of, about chess moves and theories, about production and the unexpected success of the series.

According to me, this is quite mediocre commentary. I eventually clicked on the New Yorker article that seemed to be a tiny bit smarter. After a couple of paragraphs I realized that the male writer was only going to rant about how the actress is “too pretty” to be Beth Harmon, and this seems to upset him. A lot.

But no one talked about Beth’s mother. Or the name of the series. Or the embroidery. The chess board. The tranquilizers. The math. The flashbacks. The exchange of queens. The sacrifice of the queen. Did no one see it? Or is it again one of those things; where the world is so obsessed with single mothers and representing them as huge, massive, quite literal train wrecks, but no one actually wants to look at them in the eye, talk to them, help them?

Let me tell you, as a single mother, this miniseries had me in tears the whole time. It’s really difficult to watch. It’s downright triggering.

Single mothers like to keep their silence. That’s because we know the world doesn’t like it when we start talking. It hurts. A lot. So instead, the world likes to make memes about how single moms are whores, how they are drunks or over worked. How they’re psychotic. How they ramble. They don’t make any sense. Bipolar. Crazy. How their children stare at the television all day, the way they microwave bad food. We laugh at them, and use them as comical relief in our ... what exactly? Cultural objects. Then we move on. We send a message to single mothers when we do this, and the message is important. You suck. Shut Up. Don’t exist. It’s your fault.

We make an entire mini series about a single mother who killed herself to save her kid, we put on the television images that hurt and harm single mothers and then the public responds with nothing. They don’t even bat an eyelash. Miss the point entirely. Great series about chess! Except it’s not about chess. Not at all. It’s about raising children alone, when the world hates you. It’s about a trailer. In the middle of nowhere. A strong willed woman who was a mathematician in the 1940s. Who taught her daughter everything she could. Realized she couldn’t do more. And made the ultimate sacrifice, the queen’s gambit. The riskiest, most reckless, bravest move of all.

So let me tell you about what it’s like to watch Queen’s Gambit when you’re a single mother. So that somewhere in the AI, it’s written. So that when our great grand children will try to understand our times, they’ll read it.

I’ll write an essay for each episode. And in each essay I will review the important lession that Alice passed on to young Beth, and how this takes her to Moscow, where she can live a much more fulfilling life than in the U.S.A.

Lesson 1 : Find A Two Dimensional Algebric Plane. Study It. Control It.

I recently learned from instagram user @itllbeokbaby and Amsterdam based artist and weaver Liza Prins that the words textile and text have the same origin as the word texture.

Text derives from the Latin textus (a tissue), which is in turn derived from texere (to weave). It belongs to a field of associated linguistic values that includes weaving, that which is woven, spinning, and that which is spun, indeed even web and webbing. Textus entered European vernaculars through Old French, where it appears as texte and where it assumes its important relation with tissu (a tissue or fabric) and tisser (to weave).

Women have been weaving, beading, sowing and stitching since the dawn of times. We also know that women used this technology not just to create clothes, tents or shoes. They used it as a container of information. As cultural DNA.

In South America, in places where writing as we know of it was never created, women would bead important tribal information into skirts. They would then use the skirts as a database of the tribe. To track births, deaths, epidemics, droughts and other important group defining events.

In modern times, women still use embroidery as a means of expression. My memories from childhood contain strong images of my aunts and grandmothers, sewing my name and date of birth onto pillow cases, bathrobes and bedcovers. They would do this by the pool, at the bottom of the ski slopes, on the beach or in the train. They would engage into conversation as they embroidered; as this activity required some concentration, but not their full attention. It was their way of being present; but also transcending into the past and projecting into the future. They sewed our lives into the cloth.

I once heard my grandmother counting the holes in the cloth she was decorating with her beautiful colours. I asked what she was doing. She said that to build the letters on the cloth, you needed to count the squares. Two to the top, four to the right, ten to the middle, etc etc. I was quite mesmerized. I was maybe eight at the time, the same age as Beth when she loses her mother. I had started learning some math in school but somehow the math in school seemed to be presented to me as the epitome of something quite different than this excruciatingly feminine passtime.

Math was presented to me as masculine, out of reach to us girls. And now I was disovering that these women in my family were geometry experts, fluent in linear algebra, and that at a higher level, they were database account managers.

In the first episode of the miniseries, in the first couple of minutes; we discover two Beths. The first Beth is in Paris, the beautiful, the chic; the glamourous Paris. Paris will always be the undisputed capital of Fashion.

Paris is the undisputed capital of fashion not because it is the home of polluting massive textile industries like the ones in Pakistan or Zara’s empire in Spain. Paris is the capital of fashion because it is the capital of Haute Couture. And Haute Couture is custom made, sowed by hand, piece by piece, bead by bead, sequin per sequin. It is delicate. It is slow. It is sacred. It is what my aunt’s did.

It is the opposite of industrial, the opposite of a sewing machine, the opposite of an engine. The opposite of yield failures, punching in and punching out. It is lace. Delicate, personal, eternal.

The second Beth we see is the eight year old Beth, that has just lost her mother. She stands on a bridge. Two cars have crashed into one another. And she stares on at the police officers. One says “Not a scratch on her. It’s a miracle”. The other says “I doubt she’ll see it like that”.

My theory is that the miniseries explain how Beth eventually begins to “see it like that”.

The first time we see 8 year old Beth she is wearing a dress, with her name embroidered on it. It reads Beth, in pink. Feminine. Purple flowers surround it. The embroidery is delicate. It’s on her heart.

We follow eight year old Beth as she gets sent to an orphanage. In the first couple of scenes at the orphanage, we think, for a minute, that maybe Beth will be okay here. The head mistress smiles, has nice hair. Shows her around. Yes, the bed is by the lavatory, but at least she has a bed, a roof over her head.

We only start despising this new mother figure when she takes Beth to choose new clothes. Beth takes off her dress, and stares at her name, written on the front. The headmistress selects a white shirt and grey dress for Beth. She hands to her these new items, symbol of her new life, of her integration within the orphanage and later mainstream society. The headmistress then grabs the dress with the name embroidered and looks at it with disgust. Then, she says “I think we’ll burn this one” and disapears.

Beth then understands that she is no longer allowed to love her mother. That to fit in this school, this orphanage, to survive, she must let go of the embroidery and all of the things she associates with her mother. Her mother, in the words of the teacher was a “victim” of “a carefree life”. A free spirited whore, a lesbian, a witch. There’s a lot of words we liek to use to describe women who don’t conform. And Beth’s mother, as we learn, never conformed.

At night, Beth sees her mother’s eyes, she hears the last words her mother uttered before dying in the car crash. “Close your eyes”. She said it with tears in her eyes and an air of great determination. She knew what she was doing, which is something Beth doesn’t want to tell anyone. Not even her new friend Jolene. Beth’s secret is her mother wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t crazy at all.

Then, Beth discovers the board. One day, she gets sent to the basement and sees the janitor playing chess. Later in the miniseries, Beth tells the journalist from Life it was the board that attracted her. Not the pieces.

As the first episode unfolds, Beth learns that the squares have names. She learns the names. And at night when she looks up at the ceiling she sees the board. She visualizes the pieces moving on the 64 squares. She moves them in her mind and imagines all of the alternatives. What the board would look like if she moved this piece to that square. What would her opponent do then?

To the journalist of the Life magazine, Beth says that the Chess board was a universe of 64 squares, and that she could control this space. All she had to do was study it.

The board is much like the cloth that Beth’s mother Alice would sew information onto when she was a young child. You count the squares and move your material through it. As you go, you make shapes, patterns, motifs. Beth looks up at the ceiling at night and the first night, without the tranquilizers, she sees her mother say “Close your eyes” which is too painful or such a young child. A young child doesn’t understand yet why a mother would say “Close your eyes” and then crash on purpose into a truck. A young child doesn’t know about the world yet.

Alice aknowledged that she was about to do something extremely risky, that the outcome was uncertain. Alice told Beth that she was going to purposely provoke the car crash.

But when Beth takes the tranquilizers at night, and now that she knows about chess, she can transfer her love for her mother into her growing obsession with Chess. She looks up at the ceiling and instead of seeing Alice’s last thoughts, she sees the Chess board. Which is the small piece of universe that Alice controlled, when she was alive. The cloth that she sewed her daughter’s name on: “So that you’ll always remember who you are”.

#feminism #single mom #the queen's gambit

14 notes · View notes

racebox-of-higgars · 3 years

Text

Christmas Kisses - sprace oneshot

It may not be Christmas anymore but I’m still gonna write it

Crossposted on Ao3 at Racebox_of_Higgars

Enjoy!

“I think I’m having a feeling,” Spot groaned, flopping down onto Jack’s couch. “Make it stop.” Jack looked up from his painting, frowning at Spot.

“How did you get in my house?”

“I picked the lock,” Spot said simply, as if it happened every day.

“As you do.”

“Yes.” Jack narrowed his eyes slightly, then shook his head. Today was not the day for questioning things.

“What feeling?”

“Fuck if I know.” Spot gestured at the air in front of him. “ Racetrack! ” That only made Jack even more confused.

Spot, he didn’t really do feelings. He would always bottle them up and ignore them until they became anger, which was far easier to deal with than whatever it was before. That earned him his reputation as the kid with the anger issues, which suited him just fine. It meant no one messed with him, or people around him, and as long as they were okay, he was happy.

“You got a problem with Race?” Jack asked, turning completely away from his painting. He was invested now.

“Yes! No! I don’t know.” Jack grinned, finally catching on to what Spot was getting at.

“You like him, don’t you?” Spot screamed into the pillow and Jack snickered.

Jack loved Race. Not in a romantic way, but Race was pretty much his little brother, and he would do anything to make Race happy. He had seen Race fall in love too fast then each time they would leave and he’d watch Race fall apart, each time losing another part of himself. Slowly, it had worn Race down, and though he didn’t let it show, he was always hurting. Every time he got into a new relationship, he would keep his distance, trying not to get too close Every time he would get his heart broken. Jack never liked any of Race’s boyfriends, but he liked Spot.

“So what do I do about it?” Spot asked. “Do I ask him out, or do I like stab him?”

“You ask him out, dipshit!” Spot screamed again.

“What do I do?” Spot sat up slightly, looking a Jack, and he actually looked worried. God, he was whipped.

“Ask him on a date.”

“What kind of date does one ask Racetrack fucking Higgins on?” That was a good question. Thankfully, Jack had known the fucker since they were basically fetuses, and therefore knew exactly what he would want.

“Take him to the ice-skating rink, then get hot chocolate together and watch a Christmas movie.” Race was a sucker for Christmas, and it being just weeks away now, it was perfect timing. “If you’re feeling bold put up some mistletoe. He loves that shit.”

“Race loves Christmas, right?”

“Yup. If your house isn’t decorated he’ll fly through there like a glittery rainbow tornado.” Spot smiled at that. He could practically picture it, and he felt the blush creeping up his cheeks. “Dude, you’re fucking whipped.”

“Shut the fuck up, I’ll still kill you in your sleep.” Jack just smiled and turned back to his painting.

“Enjoy your date.”

Spot knew what he wanted to say, but actually asking Race out was a whole other story. They were in the library together, a usual hangout spot (hehe get it), when it was cold, and Race was rambling on about some new thing he had grown obsessed with and Spot had listened diligently, completely enraptured by Race’s excitement. His sparkling eyes lit up with a childlike glee and a grin spread across his face as he looked out the window.

“Spotty, look!” He cried. “They’re turning on the Christmas lights!” Race was entranced by the lights, almost like a child, but Spot wasn’t watching them. Spot was gazing at Race. He watched as the colours flickered over Race’s pale skin and the rainbow of lights reflected off his eyes. God, he was so in love with this boy it hurt, and if he didn’t get at least a date with him soon he was pretty sure he’d combust.

Plans went out the window.

“Go on a date with me?” He blurted, screaming internally the second it left his mouth. Race turned to him, shock written all over his face.

“What?”

“I-uh-I wanted to know if you, maybe, wanted to go on a date with me?” Spot stammered out, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. Race smiled, somehow wider than he had when he was watching the lights.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Yes!” Race rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, like he always did when he was excited and Spot couldn’t help his smile.

“Alright, uh, I’ll pick you up at 7, is that okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, and wrap up warm,” Spot added, thinking about how cold it was likely to be on the ice later. Race nodded.

“Okay, I’ll – uh – I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, see you.” Fuck yes!

In Which Race Is A Third Wheel

Racebox of Higgars: GAYSGAYSGAYSGAYSGAYS!!!!

Mom: Do you really need that many exclaimation marks?

SantaGay: GAYSGAYSGAYSGAYSGAYS????

Mom: Don’t encourage him

Racebox of Higgars: GAAAAAAAAAAAYS!

Mom: What do you want?

Racebox of Higgars: SPOT ASKED ME ON A FUCKIN DATE!!!!

SantaGay: HELL YEAH!

Mom: Finally

Mom: It’s only taken him nine years.

SantaGay: what are you doing?

Racebox of Higgars: i don’t know, he wouldn’t tell me

SantaGay: oooh, a man of mystery

Mom: Be safe.

Racebox of Higgars: i always am

Racebox of Higgars: OH FUCK WHAT AM I GONNA WEAR

Mom: Did he give you a dress code?

Racebox of Higgars: no, he just said dress warm

SantaGay: black skinny jeans, that cream turtleneck you literally never wear, your fancy black coat, doc martens, a lil bit of eyeliner

Mom: Jack, you have fashion sense?

Mom: Why do you never dress up nice for our dates?

Racebox of Higgars: o shit

Racebox of Higgars: thanks gays

For the fifth time, Race examined himself in the mirror, scrunching up his face. Something was missing from his outfit. He had to admit, Jack’s taste was good (the eyeliner was amazing), but something was still missing. He rifled through his drawers, eventually pulling out the silver chain Spot had bought him when they were 14. It was simple, plain, but spoke volumes.

Race had only just come out as trans. He was slowly swapping out his wardrobe for more masculine clothes, and they were going through his old jewellery.

He held up a necklace with a small owl charm at the end, grimacing. He hated that necklace. It wasn’t anything against it particularly, but more to do with how feminine it made him feel. He hated it.

“Y’know,” he began absent-mindedly, “I used to love this necklace, but now I can’t stand it. It makes me really dysphoric for some reason, which sucks since I love wearing jewellery and stuff, but I can’t wear most of this.”

“You can get more masculine necklaces,” Spot answered from where he was sitting at the foot of Race’s bed.

“Well, yeah, but I can’t really afford it.” Spot frowned. “I don’t get any money at the moment, and I can’t work.” An idea slowly formulated in Spot’s mind.

“Race, I got you something,” Spot said sheepishly. Race turned, brow furrowing.

“It’s not my birthday, or Christmas. Why?”

“It ain’t much, but you were saying about it the other day and then I saw it and thought of you.” He held the box out to Race, who took it tentatively.

“This isn’t gonna explode or anything, right?” Spot laughed, but shook his head. It reminded him of their prank war a month or so before, which only ended when Spot had broken his nose.

“It shouldn’t do.”

“Alright, good.” Race tore into the packaging with a newfound fervour, dropping it to the floor because he was a firm believer that gift-giving should always be carnage, no matter what the occasion, then opened the lid of the box. Spot watched nervously, suddenly thinking that this was probably a bad idea, but Race’s face cracked into a grin.

“You bought me a necklace?” He said incredulously as he carefully lifted it out of the box.

“Well, yeah. I was out with Hotshot yesterday and I saw it in a window and it reminded me of the other day. If you don’t like it I can take it back I jus-“ Spot was cut off by a weight crashing into him, and arms wrapping tightly around him.

“I love it, thank you.”

Since then Race had kept it in pristine condition, carefully making sure it didn’t rust or otherwise get dirty or break. He carefully lifted the chain out of the box, much like he did all those years ago, and fastened it around his neck. Looking in the mirror, he smiled. It offset the outfit perfectly, matching with the silver buttons on his coat and just providing that extra little touch to the outfit. He took a quick photo and sent it to the group chat.

In Which Race is a Third Wheel

Racebox of Higgars sent a photo

Racebox of Higgars: GAYS DO I LOOK OKAY

SantaGay: damn bitch

SantaGay: if i wasn’t dating davey and you weren’t like a brother to me id tap that

Mom: He means you look good.

Mom: He’s right, you do.

Racebox of Higgars: thanks gays

Racebox of Higgars: OH FUCK HES HERE

Spot shuffled slightly outside Race’s door, flowers in hand. Were flowers too much? Fuck it, it was too late now. Race opened the door and Spot’s breath caught in his throat. Oh god, Race was gorgeous. Spot’s eyes slowly glanced over Race, taking all of him in, from stylishly messy curls, to his bright eyes rimmed by just a little bit of eyeliner to make them stand out, to his breathless smile, to the necklace at his throat, to those criminally tightly jeans, and Spot needed to stop staring.

“Christ, you look gorgeous,” Spot breathed, still hardly able to take it all in. A blush crept up Race’s cheeks as his eyes skirted over Spot.

“You can’t talk, you’re-“ he gestured wildly at Spot, “beautiful.” Spot had been called a lot of things, hot, sexy, handsome, but never beautiful. It surprised him, he loved the sound of it on Race’s lips.

“I bought flowers,” Spot said, holding them out. “I hope it’s not too much.” Race smiled taking them from him.

“Cyclamen,” Race pointed out with a smile, taking them from him. “You remembered?”

“I’ve been doing some research into flower symbolism,” Race said, half hanging off the end of his bed. Spot looked up from his homework.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s actually pretty interesting. It’s weird to think that plants have so much meaning . Like, take hyacinth flowers. Apparently they were created when two Greek God’s were fighting over one guys love and one of them got hella jealous so fuckin killed the guy cus if he couldn’t have him no one could. The other one created the flower from his blood.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“I know. It symbolises rebirth now.”

“Huh, but the guy wasn’t reborn?” Race shook his head. “Fair enough. Do you have a favourite flower?” Spot asked, partly out of genuine curiosity, partly out of hope that someday he’d be the one buying Race flowers.

“Cyclamen,” Race answered easily. “They symbolise love and tenderness.” Spot smiled. Of course Race would like something like that. He was a hopeless romantic at heart. “Do you have one?”

“Not at the moment. I’ll have to do some research and get back to you.”

Spot liked lavender roses – blossoming romance.

“Of course I remembered. I, uh, I had some lavender roses put in too.”

“Your favourite,” Race recalled. “Blossoming romance, right?” Spot nodded, embarrassed. Race smiled. “I’m gonna go put these in some water real quick, wanna come in?”

Race couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he carefully organised the flowers in the vase. Spot had remembered the offhand conversation three years ago. Not only had he remembered, but he had gone out of his way to get the specific flowers Race loved. The blush on Race’s cheeks darkened slightly, doing a little dance as he placed the vase on the coffee table.

“You’re wearing the necklace,” Spot pointed out. Race rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah.”

“You still have it?” Spot was genuinely surprised. That had been eight years ago now, and yet the necklace still looked like it did the day he bought it.

“Of course I do. I’ve kept everything you’ve bought me over the years.” Spot laughed.

“Even the stuffed dinosaur?”

“Especially the stuffed dinosaur.”

“You’re gonna think it’s stupid!” Spot cried, a blush creeping up his cheeks. Race laughed, holding Spot back with one hand as he clutched the wrapped gift in the other.

“Nope!” He answered, popping the p. “I’ve never found anything you’ve bought me stupid, why would I start now?” Spot groaned and backed off slightly, rubbing a hand over his face. Race eagerly tore into the paper , throwing it onto the pile left by Spot. He grinned, laughing. “I love him!” He said, pulling the blue stuffed dinosaur against his chest and wrapping his arms tightly around it. “I shall name him Steeb.” Spot shook his head, laughing. He had genuinely thought Race would hate it or think it was stupid. Race had been going through an obsession with dinosaurs, and of course he was always a sucker for stuffed animals, and thus Steeb had been bought.

“Steeb?”

“Yup!”

Race pulled him into a tight hug, still laughing. “Thank you.”

“Where are we actually going?” Race asked as they walked outside onto the freezing street. Frost coated the grass, and their breath hung before them, pockets of heat suspended in the cold air.

“It’s a surprise,” Spot said simply. Race forced his hands into the pocket of his coat to shelter them from the cold.

“You know I don’t like surprises,” he mumbled.

“Yes you do, you just say you don’t to try to get me to tell you shit.” Damn Spot and damn the fact that he knew Race better than anyone.

“You brought me ice skating?” Race asked, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“Yeah, Jack said you used to go a lot as kids.” Race grinned, kicking off his shoes and replacing them with skates, lacing them up tightly. Spot copied him, putting their shoes and bags into lockers.

Race quickly made his way onto the ice, gliding like a pro and kicking off with a small spin, just to test it out. Spot got onto the ice and promptly fell on his face. Race, however, was lost in the moment, gliding and spinning and twisting, then leaping into the air. Spot watched in wonder as Race closed his eyes, lost in his movements.

Race closed his eyes when he danced. Losing himself in the music, he would just close his eyes and let it take over. It would decide his movements for him, and he would follow along. Spot stood in the corner, mesmerised by the boy in front of him. A small smile crept onto his face as he watched Race. It was rare for Race to let Spot see him dance, so he took any moment he could. Watching Race, it was like he was made for this, with the way his body moved so gracefully, so purposefully. Spot loved every moment. No matter how hard he tried (not that he was trying), he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Spot!” Race said excitedly, opening his eyes and pausing the music. “You came?” Spot smiled.

“Of course I came, dumbass. I wasn’t gonna miss this.” Race bounced on the balls of his feet excitedly.

“I’m on in half an hour. Just going through some basic stuff now to get ready.” Spot scoffed.

“You call that basic?” Race ran a hand through his curls, damp with sweat.

“I mean yeah, compared to what I’m doing in the show.”

“What are you doing in the show?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Race said with a wink.

“Ever the cryptid.” They stood in silence for a moment, then Spot had to break it. “You’re not binding, right?” Race’s face fell and he subconsciously crossed his arms over his chest. “C’mon, you know it’s not good for you. Can we take it off before you go on?” Race shook his head.

“I don’t have anything else to put on.”

“I brought a sports bra, could you change into that?” Race hesitated for a moment, before nodding. Race always struggled being safe when binding, so when he had events like this, Spot would always bring a spare sports bra and one of his hoodies for Race to change into. Just in case.

He handed Race the sports bra.

“I have a hoodie for you to wear after,” he said, handing him the hoodie too. Race smiled as he went into the bathroom to change.

“Thank you.”

“Spot!” Race cried, skating over to his side and offering out a hand. “Are you alright?” Spot shook himself out of the memory and took the hand, shakily getting to his feet. He immediately slipped again, but Race caught him, laughing. “You can’t skate, can you?” Spot shook his head. “Why did you bring me ice skating if you can’t skate?”

“Because I knew you’d like it.” Race took both of Spots hands in his, so they were facing each other, then he slowly began skating backwards, locking eyes with Spot.

“Thank you.” Spot tried his best to mimic Race, and soon they had a steady speed and rhythm going. “By the end of tonight I’ll have you skating on your own.”

“I doubt that.”

“Bet.”

Race won the bet.

“Wanna go get hot chocolate?” Spot asked. “Not the shitty watery stuff they serve here, we’ll go and get the good hot chocolate from the library.” Race rubbed his hands together to try to regain some feeling in them and he nodded.

“Hell yeah.”

The library’s café was a big reason why they always hung out there. They’d found it while studying one night, and it had slowly become ‘Their Spot’ over the years. All the staff knew them and their orders, and always greeted them with a smile. They knew all the staff by name too.

“Thanks for this, Race.” Spot said, setting his books down on the table. Race smiled, setting his bag down on an empty seat.

“It’s alright, don’t worry about it.” He glanced around. It was a cozy, quaint place. Squashy armchairs surrounded tables and the whole place was filled to bursting with old wooden bookshelves. Towards the back was the café, a large chalkboard with all the prices hanging above it. “Wanna grab food and stuff before we start working?” He asked, gesturing towards the café. Spot looked up, and nodded.

“Yeah sure.”

“I’ll pay,” Race said as Spot reached for his wallet.

“But-“

“No buts, I’ve got it.” Race tapped his card on the reader and took his mug of hot chocolate, laden with sprinkles, whipped cream and marshmallows back to the table. Spot sat down shortly after him, lifting the mug to his lips. Race took that moment to admire Spot, backed by the sunlight streaming through the large windows. His brow was furrowed slightly as he concentrated on his mountain of a drink, and the contended smile on his face brought out his laugh lines.

There was whipped cream on his nose.

Race burst into laughter at the sight of Tough Guy Spot Conlon with whipped cream on his nose. Said Tough Guy Spot Conlon looked up, brow furrowing more in confusion.

“Is something on my face?” He asked.

“There’s – there’s whipped cream on your nose,” Race said through laughter. Just to make Race laugh more, Spot attempted to lick it off. He loved watching Race laugh. It was the most magical sound in the world to him.

“Boys, can you quiet down a bit,” a waitress asked, “this is a library.” Race pressed his mouth shut to muffle his laughter and Spot wiped the cream off with his finger. That was the beginning of their library ‘study sessions’.

They settled into what had become their corner of the library, curling up in two opposite armchairs, setting their drinks on the table. They had chosen a spot right next to a large window so they could watch people go about their days on the streets beneath them. Sometimes they would make up ridiculous stories about the people walking by, just to make the other laugh. Often, it would turn into a competition about who could come up with the funniest story. It would reach the point where they were howling with laughter, tears streaming down their faces, and the library staff would shake their heads fondly as they told them to quiet down.

“Thanks for tonight, Spot,” Race said, a small smile on his face.

“It’s not over yet.” Race tilted his head. It had already been one of the best nights of his life, how on Earth was this not the end? “We’re gonna go back to my place one we’ve finished these, get takeout, watch a movie.” Race grinned.

“A Christmas movie?” He asked excitedly.

“Even better – a crap Christmas movie.” Race’s eyes lit up and he wiggled a little in his chair with excitement.

“Oh my god, you are the best.” Race was obsessed with Christmas movies, but the shitty, cheesy ones that you laugh at because of how unbelievably bad they are, and Spot was his long-suffering companion who had put up with this bullshit for nine Christmases in a row now.

“Can we watch a Christmas movie?” Race asked, draped over Spot’s lap. This was their first Christmas as friends, and Race was going to make it a good one.

“Which one?” Spot smiled down at Race, automatically starting to run his fingers through his hair.

“I dunno, something super cheesy. The kind so bad you have to laugh at it.” That was Race’s favourite kind of me. Probably why he enjoyed the Twilight Saga. Not because he actually liked the films (Edward was an abusive douche, he had physically fought someone on that before, and he would do it again), but because it was so easy to laugh at how unbelievably shitty they were.

Spot nodded, opening Netflix and putting on some shitty movie.

Neither of them actually watched the movie though. Spot was distracted by Race’s soft smile and how peaceful he looked. Race was distracted by the feeling of Spot’s hand in his hair and Spot’s arms around him.

It had been a while since Race had been in Spot’s apartment, (they usually preferred to hang out at Race’s, he had a bigger TV for movie and game nights) and he looked around slowly. It wasn’t a big place, but it was still nice. He had a large, squashy sofa, plus an armchair, a coffee table that clearly had been cleaned recently. In fact, the whole apartment had that smell like it had been cleaned just a few hours before. Had Spot cleaned for him?

“Do you want tea or coffee or anything?” Spot asked from the kitchen.

“Coffee would be good,” Race answered, getting comfy on Spot’s couch. Spot set to work making it as Race glanced over the takeout menu. Then, he had an idea. “We should build a pillow fort!” Spot turned to face him, one eyebrow raised, a bemused smile playing on his lips.

“A pillow fort?”

“Yeah!” Race’s smile dropped slightly. “Unless you don’t want to. We don’t have to-”

“Of course I want to.” Spot set the coffee mugs down on the table, plopping down next to Race. Race’s eyes lit up when he saw the mugs.

“You still have those?” He asked excitedly.

“Of course I do.”

“Spot look!” Race exclaimed, pointing at a shelf. Spot put down the mannequin hand he was turning into a middle finger and turned to look at Race, who was holding up a matching mug set. They were plain white, except for black lettering. One said ‘his bitch’ on it, while the other said ‘his slut’. “They’re for gays!” Spot laughed, looking at the price tag.

“And they’re only like, $3.” Race’s eyes lit up with mischief, the way they always did when he had a stupid idea.

“We’re absolutely gonna buy them, aren’t we?” Race said.

“Obviously.” Spot took them from Race and paid for them.

Later, Spot handed Race the mug reading ‘his slut.’

“Why am I the slut?” Race said indignantly.

“Come on, we all know you’ve slept with like, half the guys in the school.” Race’s face fell a little.

“You don’t mind, do you?”

“You sleeping around?”

“Yeah.” In truth, Spot did mind, but he wouldn’t say that. The only reason Spot had an issue with it was because of his huge crush on Race. But he supposed he had no reason to be jealous, it wasn’t like Race was his.

“No, I don’t mind. It’s your body, you do what you want with it.”

“Sometimes I worry if I’m doing something wrong. If, I dunno, whoever I end up dating doesn’t like it.”

“Have you ever dated anyone long-term?” Spot asked, more out of curiosity than anything else. Race shook his head.

“Nah. There’s people I’ve seen for a couple months or so, but never longer than that. They realise I’m fucked up and leave.” Race laughed bitterly, trying to add humour to the situation.

“You’re not fucked up.”

“Mhm, that’s not what they think.” Spot took Race’s hand in his.

“Look at me.” Race hesitantly met Spot’s eyes. “You aren’t too fucked up. There’s no such thing as too fucked up to be loved.” Race blinked back tears.

“Thank you.”

“It’s alright, now shut up and take your slut mug.” Race laughed.

“You do realise it’s gonna have to stay at your place, right? No home will let me keep this.”

“We can keep it for special occasions.”

They curled up together on the couch. Spot reached for the remote and started flicking through Netflix, putting on a shitty movie. Both pretended to watch the film, but they were both too focused on the close proximity. Both wanted to make a move, but neither knew the right moment. The distance between them was painful.

Slowly, achingly slowly, Spot reached an arm around Race’s shoulders. Race wiggled slightly, getting comfy, before relaxing into Spot’s side, resting his head on Spot’s shoulder. Warmth spread from every point of contact, and he couldn’t believe he’d spent nine years missing this. He had spent so long pining for Spot, but never worked up the courage to make a move, instead throwing himself at any other guy who would take him to try to distract himself from his helpless crush, but nobody gave him the same feelings as Spot did. Spot was it for him, he had known for the last nine years, and he knew it now.

Spot was screaming inside. Race was right here, in his arms, and he wasn’t pulling away. They were on a date, and it wasn’t painfully awkward. Since meeting Race, Spot had hardly dated anyone. He had a couple flings here and there, but none lasted long. None could hold a candle to the brightness of Race. Nothing could compare to the warmth in Spot’s chest he felt around Race, or the safety and comfort he hadn’t felt before, but with Race it seemed so easy. Everything was easy with Race.

Race took the moment to look around the room. In the corner, there was a photo frame, with 9 photos in it. He looked closer at it, and realised it was one of the two of them together, each one taken a year after the one before. The first one was taken when they first met, before Race had come out, before he had cut his hair. The second one was just after he had cut his hair. He still remembered each one being taken.

“Spot, can we take a photo together?” Race asked, fiddling with the ends of his hair.

“Why?”

“I like having photos with all my friends, I like keeping the memories.”

“Sure. You want a selfie or are we gonna make someone take it for us?”

“Should we get someone else to take it?” Spot nodded. “Can you ask them?”

“Alright.” Spot took Race’s phone and walked up to a middle aged woman walking by. They spoke briefly, then Spot came running back, throwing an arm around Race’s shoulder. Race grinned, looking at the camera, wrapping his arm around Spot’s waist. A few seconds later, the woman gave them a thumbs up, and Spot ran back to take the phone back. Spot handed the phone back, leaning over Race’s shoulder to look at them.

“Are they good?” Race nodded, smiling.

“Yeah, really good.” Spot backed off slightly, wrinkling his nose.

“Your hair got in my nose.” Race frowned.

“Sorry. I’m gonna cut it shorter at some point.” Spot tilted his head.

“Really? How short?” Now Race was gonna do a special trick called lying to avoid outing himself.

“A bob, so around my chin length.” Spot smiled, picturing it.

“Yeah, that’s gonna look good.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be good.”

Race pounded on Spot’s door, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Wha- oh.” Spot opened the door, face scrunched up in annoyance, but softening when he saw Race. “Oh, Racer, come in.” Race came in, sinking down onto the couch, fiddling with the strings on his hoodie.

“Can I crash here for the night?” He asked, voice breaking. Spot’s brow furrowed with concern as he crouched down in front of Race.

“Yeah. What happened?” Race hesitated, before pulling his hood down, revealing his messily chopped hair.

“I cut my hair. I just- I couldn’t look at myself with long hair anymore. I got kicked out.” Spot frowned.

“What do you mean you couldn’t look at yourself with long hair?” Race’s breath hitched and his heart hammered in his chest.

“I-uh-I'm trans. I couldn’t deal with the dysphoria anymore. It hurts too much.” Spot’s eyes softened and he wrapped Race up in a tight hug.

“It’s alright. I don’t care. Do you have a new name and pronouns you want me to use?” Race rested his forehead on Spot’s shoulder, trying to keep from crying.

“Could you call me Antonio? I mean, I’ll still go by Racetrack and everything, but Antonio for my real name. And he/him pronouns.”

“Sure, Antonio,” Spot said, trying the name out on his lips. Race’s face split into a grin at the use of the name.

“Thank you.”

“It’s alright.” Spot reached up to touch the choppy hair. “Now how about I sort your hair out?”

“Please.”

Race ran a hand through his freshly cut hair, examining it from all angles in the mirror, and he smiled brightly.

“Thank you,” he said, turning and wrapping Spot in a hug. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“Why don’t we update that photo we took last year?” Spot suggested, and Race’s eyes lit up.

“Could we?”

“I don’t see why not.”

Spot threw his arm around Race’s shoulders, just as he had a year ago, and Race wrapped his arm around Spot’s waist, and they both wore matching grins as they looked into the camera. The woman taking the photo gave a thumbs up and Spot ran to take the phone. They looked at the photo, then back at the one from the previous year.

“You look happier,” Spot commented. Race smiled.

“I am happier.”

“You kept those photos?” Race asked, nodding slightly to the frame. Spot tore his glance away from Race momentarily to look.

“Of course I did. They’re my favourite pictures.” Race smiled, settling back on Spot’s shoulder. A blush rose in his cheeks as he felt Spot press a kiss to his hair, then his hand replaced his lips, fingers slowly carding through his curls. Race hummed contentedly, wrapping an arm across Spot’s stomach and leaning into his every touch. Now this, this was something he could get used to.

The credits rolled, and by that point it was well past midnight. Race slowly sat up, regretting the loss of contact with Spot.

“I-uh-I should go,” he said, moving to stand.

“I’ll walk you home?” Spot offered.

“Are you sure? It’s cold out.”

“I’m sure, c’mon.”

Somehow, the street was even colder than when they had gone out before, but neither of them seemed to mind. A snowbank piled up on one side, and Race struggled to contain his grin as the idea formulated in his mind.

He knocked once, twice against Spot, playing it off as an accident, before shoving Spot into the bank. He erupted into laughter, but maybe it was too soon, as Spot grabbed his coat on the way down. Both of them shrieked as they landed in the snow, Race landing on top of Spot. They breathed heavily, making eye contact for a moment, faces flushed, but whether that was the cold or something else was anyone’s guess. Just as they had been staring long enough for it to become awkward, Spot finally made his move. He leaned in, like he had been longing to for years, holding the back of race’s neck and gently pressing their lips together. Electricity sparked through his body and he couldn’t quite believe he had spent years missing out on this. One of his hands subconsciously moved to tangle in Race’s hair, who tilted his head slightly to deepen the kiss. The world around them seemed to melt away, and all that mattered was them, and this.

“Fucking fags!” A voice yelled next to them. Spot was about to shake his head at Race, tell him to leave it, but Race was already on his feet.

“Hey! What fucking century are you living in? So what I happen to be dating a man, please inform me of how I’m hurting you by loving him.

“It’s against God’s will. You’re digusting,” the man said, rounding on Race.

“No, I’ll tell you what’s disgusting – discriminating against people who have done nothing to hurt you, just because of a fucking book that was mistranslated. Wake the fuck up. People fall in love, they don’t hurt you by doing that, they just do it.”

“Fuck you!” The man spat, turning to walk away.

“I bet it’s fucking tiny!” Race yelled after him, turning back to Spot, who looked at him in amazement. ��Sorry about that.” Spot shook his head, taking the hand Race offered to him and pulled himself to his feet.

“That was amazing,” he said honestly, smiling.

“I just- I couldn’t let him just say that y’know? I mean, I’ve heard shit like that for years, but I wasn’t gonna let him say it to you.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”

“That’s not the point.” Spot leaned up to kiss him quickly.

“Either way, that was wonderful.” Spot had never seen Race angry like that before. Not when the Delanceys had constantly torn him down, not when he moved from foster home to foster home, not when he had gotten detention just for trying to use the right bathroom. But one homophobic comment and he had gotten furious like Spot had never seen before, and god Spot didn’t think he could possibly love Race more.

Race smiled, hesitantly lacing his fingers with Spot’s as they walked the last few blocks to Race’s apartment.

“Your house wasn’t decorated,” Race commented.

“Yeah, I haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

“I’ll come over tomorrow and help you decorate.” Spot didn’t get a say in it. Race was gonna deck that apartment out in so much glitter and coloured lights it would be like a very gay tornado had gone through and left parts of itself all over. Not that Spot minded. He would take any opportunity possible to spend time with Race. “I expect you up early.” Spot’s face dropped. “I’ll bring coffee,” Race added, solely because he knew coffee was the only way to bribe Spot into getting out of bed before 10am.

“Alright, I’ll be expecting greatness. It better live up to the expectations Jack’s given me.”

“It’ll be worse, I promise,” Race said with a grin.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

They slowed when they reached the door to Race’s apartment, lingering a moment before Race unlocked the door.

“Uh, thanks for tonight, Spotty. I had fun,” Race said, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t really want the night to end, but at least he would see Spot tomorrow.

“Yeah, so did I.” They shuffled slightly, neither wanting to end the night. “Are we- are we gonna do this again sometime?” Spot finally asked.

“Are you kidding me? If we’re not doing this like, weekly, we’re doing something wrong.” Spot chuckled a little, before looking up. He laughed, seeing mistletoe hung in the doorframe. Race’s eyes widened, before he looked at Spot, blush rising in his cheeks.

“Do you wanna-” Race’s question turned into a squeak as Spot crashed their lips together, pulling Race close. He was gonna take every damn opportunity to kiss Race that he could. He had already missed out on nine years, he wasn’t gonna lose any more.

Slowly, they broke away, neither wanting to, but both knowing they had to. Their faces were flushed, eyes wide.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow, or would it be today now?” Race asked.

“Technically today.”

“I’ll see you later today then,” Race said with a smile.

“Yeah, I’ll see you later.”

They kissed quickly once more, then Spot disappeared down the street.

In Which Race Is A Third Wheel

SantaGay : did you guys enjoy my surprise???

Mom: I told you not to.

Racebox of Higgars : YES!

#sprace #newsies #fanfiction #fluff #spot conlon x racetrack higgins #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #first date #yes steeb is based on something my joyfriend bought me #i love these boys #soft

5 notes · View notes

nightglider124 · 7 years

Text

DickKory Week: Day 7

I am so happy with this one like I have wanted to write something like this for a while but never got round to it. I love period pieces and I love the second world war as in, I find it absolutely fascinating.

I hope you like it as much as I liked writing.

What better way to wrap up dickkory week than with some fluff amidst war?

AU of Choice

December 20th, 1941.

It was only spiralling, with no clear end in sight as of yet.

There was no certainty of who would come away from this war a winner; if there would be one at all, that is. Was there ever really a winner when it came to war?

Everyone seemed to lose in warfare.

Death was everywhere. People gave their lives; sacrificed everything they had for the honour of fighting for their country. The ones that opposed them and threatened their way of life were the ones who soldiers worked to protect their civilians from.

It seemed like a very black and white world.

Good and evil was the way that most saw it. The people invading or killing soldiers were the evil side of war and the good were those trying to defend their home soil. However, it was always reversed; people would always see it the flipped way as well.

In the end, soldiers being deployed here, there and everywhere were simply doing their job and doing their duty to their country.

None of them wanted to inflict pain; none of them wanted to hurt one another. It was a difficult job but one that had to be done.

Pearl Harbour was still reeling from the recent attack by Japan. The wreckage had been unbelievable with countless lives being taken. It was a devastating blow on both sides. Pearl Harbour’s obliteration fuelled Congress’ decision to declare all out war on Japan the very next day after the incident.

A domino effect seemed to happen then; with Japan’s allied forces of Germany and Italy reciprocating with their own declaration of war on the land of the people.

How could such a war ever be won?

In these dark times, the soldiers were deployed to locations that needed them most and in turn, the soldiers had those on hand to seek help from when themselves were in need.

Kory wiped a stray tear from her cheek as she busied herself in the ladies room. She scanned the paperwork attached to the clipboard to familiarise herself with her next patient. Taking a deep breath, she unclipped her dark blue cape and hung it up by her cubby hole. She straightened her cap and brushed her uniform down; a simple thing, really. Her blue blouse was short sleeved and sat nicely beneath her white pinafore dress that reached past her knees; marked only with the red cross on her chest. She checked herself in the mirror, making certain she looked presentable for the ward.

Whilst she loved being able to help the sick and injured during such an awful time, it made her feel so sad; to know that so many were dying.

She had her reasons though.

Her little brother had been drafted when it all began and had perished only 1 year into his service. He’d been shot along with his men in a night time enemy ambush. Her heart still felt sore at his loss but these terrible times had taught her to repress and stay strong; she could mourn when it was all over.

If that time ever came.

Ryan’s death had not been in vain; it was not and would never be meaningless.

After it happened, she had a moment of clarity, frustrated with not being able to help in the way that all boys and men were allowed to. She knew they had little choice in it; soldiers were desperately needed so the army were taking everyone who were able and of age.

Kory had picked herself up, trained and schooled herself until she had the medical knowledge required for a nursing placement at one of the emergency hospitals stationed all across the country, helping those who found themselves on the wrong side of an explosion or bullet.

She saw Ryan in so many of the men she gave aid too and so there were mixed emotions when she arrived at the makeshift hospital everyday at dawn.

The building itself had previously been a high school, cleared out as an immediate evacuation zone and used for rescue aid to nearby soldiers, wounded in active duty. It was just off the coast, the closest to Hawaii and so there was an urgent influx of patients after Pearl Harbour was attacked.

It had been some weeks ago now but it still felt as if it had occurred yesterday.

Kory had been rushed off her feet with patients in need of help. Some had died, some had lived; some still waited to find out their fate.

It was a tough time to live in but Kory tried her very best to be a ray of sunshine for these men; a perky personality in the midst of their nightmares.

Clearing her throat and tucking a loose strand of auburn hair behind her ear, Kory picked up the clipboard and wandered out onto the ward. She smiled brightly as she moved, nodding to some of her regular patients.

“Mornin’ Red!” One African-American man called out to her and she smiled at the sound of his voice.

She turned and felt brief joy spread through her.

Victor Stone was large in physique and could be misconstrued as intimidating when really he was a gigantic teddy bear. He’d been in terrible shape when he was first wheeled in on a stretcher. His right leg had been amputated after being caught in an explosion caused by a land mine. The entire base had been blown to kingdom come and it’d been a miracle he came out of it alive.

He was quiet at first, self-loathing and guilt ridden for not being able to save his friends; his brothers. Slowly, however, he was coming around. He and Kory had built quite the rapport and she often looked forward to her chats with him.

Standing before her now, he was mastering his physical rehabilitation sessions. He needed constant use of his crutches but he was becoming so at ease with them and that made Kory’s heart swell. It was the aftermaths, such as this, that made the efforts by her and the patients worth while.

“Victor! Oh! Look at you!” She praised, lightly clapping her hands,

He shrugged but the grin didn’t falter as he took a seat on the edge of his bed, “Doc says I’ve a still got a long journey ahead o’ me, though.”

Kory touched his shoulder, “But you are making excellent progress. That is what is important.”

Vic playfully rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, I know nurse sunshine.” He paused and nodded to her clipboard, “New patient?”

She looked around the ward, “It would appear so.”

“I’ll let you get to work then. We’ll chat later.”

Kory winked at him, “Well of course.”

Vic chuckled and settled back with a newspaper, setting his crutches to the side of his bunk.

Narrowing her eyes in concentration, Kory swept the room, searching for bed 63 where her latest patient awaited her.

Her eyes lit up as she found it and hurried over. Kory propped the reports on his condition up on the railing at the end of his bed and let her eyes wash over him.

His hair was dark and his skin pale but was thoroughly littered with scars, bruises and bloodied wounds. The gentleman was bound up in several casts. There was one on his arm, both legs and one around his torso whilst a brace was fitted carefully around his neck.

Kory’s heart went out to him and she politely addressed him, “Mr Grayson?”

Slowly, the colour of his eyes were revealed and she admired the shade of blue they were; deep and dark like the ocean.

“Y-Yes?”

“Good Morning… I apologise for waking you-“

He coughed a laugh, “Don’t you worry… I shouldn’t… be so damn lazy.”

Kory smiled, “Not lazy at all, Mr Grayson.”

“Please… Just called me Dick…”

She hesitated, “I do not think that would be polite. Your rank is that of a lieutenant-”

He offered a weak smile, “Just Dick will be fine, Miss.”

Kory nodded and pulled her mini flashlight from her pocket to conduct general checks, “I am just going to do several checks; if that is alright.”

“Sounds perfect.”

As she shone the light in both eyes to check for any pupil constriction, she spoke, “How are you feeling today?”

“Better now that I have a pretty nurse checking up on me.”

Kory pulled away and blushed, her smile timid, “Perhaps you have a concussion gone untreated, Dick.”

He chuckled, “I don’t think so.”

Dick stared at her as she moved; she was stunning and it really was refreshing to see such a vision of loveliness since being cooped up in this place.

“So… you were deployed at Pearl Harbour?” Kory asked, hesitantly,

Dick tried to nod, winced and thought better of it, “Yes.”

Kory furrowed her eyebrows, “… I am sorry.”

A dark eyebrow lifted, “Why?”

“The war… It is most ugly… I have been seeing many men from that location in recent weeks. It is a tragedy.”

“Such is life… during war. It’s hard… but it’s the way it is…”

Kory solemnly nodded and realised his voice was sounding more strained. She leaned over him and slid her hands beneath his back, gazing down at him, “I am going to lift you so you may have some water. Is that okay?”

“Of course.”

She began to lift him and heard him grunt so she looked pointedly at his undamaged arm, “Hold on to me.”

He did as he was told and found it much easier to sit up. Kory held him still until she was certain he would not flop back onto the mattress. Torso casts made it extremely difficult to hold your balance and she didn’t want him to hurt anymore than he already did.

“You are comfortable?” Kory asked, her face mere inches from his,

Dick’s eyes met her emerald ones for a brief moment before they trailed over her lips, then back to her eyes, “Very.” He admitted,

Kory smiled and stood back, grabbing the tall glass of water on the bedside table and a long straw from her front pocket. She sat in the chair before him and held the glass whilst his lips sucked on the straw, replenishing his thirst.

“Not too fast… I do not wish for you to choke.” She scolded, light-heartedly,

Dick swallowed his mouthful and smiled, “Wouldn’t that be the way to go… Here I am fighting a war and I go and die, choking on water.”

Kory giggled and the sound was like a melody to the soldier’s ears.

“Would you like some more?” Kory asked, her tone soft,

Sitting up gave him more manoeuvrability so Dick gave a tiny nod. Kory sat forward and let him gulp down more water. After a moment, he sat back and exhaled upwards.

Kory raised an eyebrow until she realised he wanted his hair out of his eyes. He could hardly do it with his uninjured arm as he was using it to hold himself upright.

“Here,” Kory breathed, brushing her fingers against his forehead and tucking the silky ebony locks out of the way, “Much better.”

Dick grinned at her as she stood up and placed his water on the table again. She did the usual checks; making sure his heart rate was steady, checking his painkillers were being administered regularly and accurately as well as fluffing his pillow and making him all round more comfortable.

Whilst her back was turned, Dick spoke, “Miss…”

She threw a small smile over her shoulder, “Kory.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

Kory smiled to herself. He may be broken and bruised but the gentleman sure was a charmer, “Thank you.”

“Miss Kory… Sorry if I come across as rude or too forward… but I was wondering if I could ask you a question.”

Kory paused but turned back with his water again, allowing him another sip,

“Of course.”

He cleared his throat, “I noticed you aren’t wearing a ring… And, I was wondering… If I could possibly… Take you out on a date?”

Kory was flabbergasted. She blinked at him, “Excuse me?”

Dick lightly coughed but stayed confident, “Now, before you say no… I want you to know… I think you are lovely and… Would treat you like the lady you are.”

The red headed woman turned away to wash her hands, glancing over her shoulder at him in shock as he continued to try and coax a date from her. It was honestly very amusing, considering his current state and she had to applaud his boldness.

“And… I can assure you… I look much more attractive when I’m not all bruised.” He finished,

Kory quirked a smile of disbelief but it faded when he started having a coughing fit. She was quick to aid him,

“Okay, handsome…” She mused, helping him to lie down once more, “Why do we not wait until you have recovered and then we shall talk about that date, hm?”

Dick inhaled a deep breath before smirking at her, “I’ll… hold you to that.”

Kory giggled, “I am certain you will.”

After finishing up, she left the emergency hospital with a slight spring in her step. His personality was intriguing and he was charming; there was no denying it.

And so, for the following weeks when Kory was there, the two got to know each other. They talked late into the night when Kory made her rounds and she blushed every time Vic smirked at her on her way out after her shift was finished.

He’d gotten discharged a fortnight ago and Kory was sad to see him go; sadder than she thought she’d be. She hadn’t been on shift when he was allowed to go home.

Gotham; that was his home. He was so far away now and she wondered, wistfully, if she’d ever see him again or if he’d be lost in another battle during the remainder of this war.

Kory sighed as she pulled her button up sweater tighter around her body as she stepped out into the morning light. It was frosty this morning; a true winter bite in the air.

She had just finished a night shift at the hospital and was eager to crawl into bed; to get some shut eye after a long night of caring for the broken heroes around her.

As Kory walked across the street, she caught a glimpse of a man out of the corner of her eye. He was leaning up against the wall and from what she could tell was extremely well dressed but she didn’t want to gawk.

“Oh, Miss?”

Kory stopped and slowly turned around. She knew that voice.

Her heart practically melted. There, leaning back against the brick wall with his ankles crossed stood Lieutenant Richard Grayson in his full service uniform. His numerous medals shimmered in the light and he was correct; he was much more handsome than she initially gave him credit for.

His dark hair was slicked back and his face was flawless; no marks or bruising anymore; just pale skin and a defined jaw. Kory felt her cheeks get hot; he was ruggedly handsome and she felt a fluttering in her stomach.

“Richard…” She all but whispered, truly surprised to see him standing there,

Dick wandered closer to her, giving her one of those deliciously lopsided grins, “I’m all better now.”

Kory giggled, “So you are.”

He brought a single rose from behind his back and offered it to her. Kory accepted it and blushed, looking up into his face. This man was full of pleasant surprises.

“How about that date?”

Kory rose an eyebrow, “Well, how could I possibly refuse such a request?”

He smirked, “I suppose you can’t.”

Kory giggled and sniffed the rose, “So, when would you like to take me on this date?“

Dick glanced around at the street before beaming at her, “Would you like to go for a coffee? I know a great little diner about 5 minutes from here.”

“Now?”

He only grinned more, “No time like the present.”

Kory shook her head, smiling and suddenly, she found she didn’t feel quite so tired as she accepted his arm.

#dickkory week 2017 #dickkory #dick grayson #richard grayson #koriand'r #war au #nurse #soldier #au of choice #day 7 #DC #nightglider124

71 notes · View notes