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mothspore · 4 years

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walk me home

i still have literally no idea how to set this up so i guess here’s this

pairing: logince

warnings: none

it’s literally just fluff uhhh

do i need a summary? someone please teach me how to do this i’m dying

Logan sighed as he stepped out of the lobby of his building. He had a long day at work, and didn’t feel comfortable walking home at night, especially not in the freezing rain, when he only really had a light jacket. And so, he ended up calling Roman down, because he was the only person Logan knew who would be crazy enough to be up at 2am.

One thing was wrong with his logic though—apparently, Roman wasn’t crazy enough to be awake at 2am. The phone rang, and rang, and rang, to the point where Logan was about to just suck it up and walk home on his own. Then he picked up.

“Logan? What the hell? Do you know what time it is?” Roman asked, voice still heavy with sleep. Logan immediately felt awful for waking him up, knowing how few hours of sleep he must get because of college.

“My apologies, I wasn’t aware that you were asleep. You usually stay up quite late.”

“Yeah, well, university is exhausting me. But why did you call? It’s not like you to call me just because, especially not at 2am,” he said mid-yawn.

“Well, you have a point there. It really—It’s not an issue, I can handle it on my own, I’m sorry for waking you. You should go back to sleep, I can walk home on my own.”

“What? You’re out?”

“Well—Yes, my work day ended up running a little late—”

“A little late? At 2am?”

“—okay, a lot late. Regardless, I only finished just recently, and I didn’t feel comfortable walking home alone in the rain. However, if it’s a matter of feeling uncomfortable or your health, the obvious priority is your health.”

“Well, it’s your health, too, Lo. You know to trust your gut, if you’re hesitant, there’s a good reason. And it’s raining, you could get sick. Where are you?”

“What? No, go back to sleep!”

“We’ve been talking for a few minutes now, I’m up. And I’m coming to get you. Do you have a proper coat?”

“Roman, no! I can walk home on my own, I’m just being overdramatic. You don’t need to come get me. Seriously. Go back to sleep.”

“Logan, shut up. Now do you have a coat?”

Logan sighed in defeat. He knew that now that Roman had his mind set, there was no changing it. “No, I don’t. Thank you, Roman. You don’t have to do this.”

“Uh, yeah, I do. What kind of person would I be if I just let you freeze out there?” Logan heard a noise that was undeniably Roman grabbing some coats. “Damn it! I forgot my roommate borrowed the car to visit family… Damn. Alright, I’m going to take a little longer than I thought. Here, go back inside your building, I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

Logan told Roman the address, and he hung up. He turned to go back inside, and then remembered the automatic lock on the doors. He was stuck outside in the cold until Roman got here. The icy rain splashed down on his head, leaving droplets on his glasses and soaking his jacket. He sighed shakily and shivered, hoping that Roman would get here soon.

He was very flattered that Roman seemed to care enough about him to run out in the middle of the night in the rain to get his stupid ass home. He chuckled a bit, knowing he’d do the same for Roman. Although he had to admit that his reasons were probably quite different than Roman’s. He doubted that Roman held the same...er, admiration for him as he did for Roman. It was quite frustrating at times, both having said admiration and dealing with the reality that it is more than likely not reciprocated. Sometimes, however, it was difficult to hold himself back.

When he saw Roman running at him through the rain, full speed, still in his fuzzy sleep pants, mismatched socks, and sandals, waving a heavy coat and scarf at him, he was having a particularly hard time holding himself back. Roman’s smile widened as he saw Logan’s bewildered expression.

“What on earth—Did you run here?!” Logan asked.

“Yep! Like I said, my roommate borrowed the car, so I couldn’t exactly drive.”

“You could’ve taken a bus, Roman!”

“Ah yes, the bus, the one that drives around at 2am. Busses have schedules, you know! The drivers have to sleep at some point, Microsoft Nerd.”

Logan opened his mouth to protest, but realized that Roman was right. “Well still, I feel bad for making you run through the rain like this, especially at this hour.”

Roman shrugged, handing Logan the heavy coat. “Eh, no big deal. I’m always up for new adventures,” he said. Logan adjusted Roman’s coat, which was a few sizes too big. “And besides,” Roman said, wrapping the scarf around the shorter man’s neck, “I couldn’t let you freeze your cute little nose off out here.” He booped Logan on the nose, earning a tiny surprised noise. Logan’s face burned. He desperately hoped that it was unnoticeable in the rain.

The two started walking through the storm, side by side. Logan was hyperaware of their proximity to each other. Every so often, their hands would brush or their shoulders would bump, and every time it happened, Logan would feel a shock of tingles go up his arm, warming his core. However, the warmth in his chest did little to combat the bitter cold of the rain. He shivered and pulled Roman’s coat tighter around him. The temperature continued to drop. Roman took notice of his shivering and wrapped an arm around Logan’s shoulder. Logan’s cheeks flushed again, and he huddled in closer to the taller man.

Logan’s mind raced. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to say fuck it and tell Roman everything. It would be relatively easy to do, he has played it out in his head enough times to know what he would say. All he would need to do is say it. He mentally prepared himself to say the words he’s kept to himself for so long—

“There it is! There you go, Lo,” Roman said cheerfully, lifting his arm away.

Logan’s heart dropped. No! Just when he had gotten the confidence to actually say something… He slowed his pace gradually until he stopped. Roman turned back to look at him. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern. In that moment, Logan decided to risk it all, because he knew he wasn’t going to get another opportunity like this.

“Logan? Are you alright?” Roman began, but he never got to finish. Logan grabbed his face and stood on his toes, pressing their lips together.

Roman’s eyes widened in shock, stumbling backwards and arms flying up from his sides. Then he realized what was happening. He immediately kissed back. He snaked his arms down around Logan’s waist and pulled him closer to his chest. One of Logan’s arms wrapped around Roman’s neck, and his other hand buried itself in his hair.

Around them, the rain crystallized, and snow began falling in its place. The two men stood there in the middle of it all, lips moving as one. They parted all too soon, gasping for air. Logan found himself breathlessly cursing the low air capacity of human lungs. Roman smiled like Logan had never seen, and if he wasn’t already struggling to catch his breath, it would’ve taken his breath away. Roman grabbed Logan by the waist and lifted him in the air, spinning him around effortlessly. Logan squeaked at the unexpected movement. Roman pulled Logan back to his chest for a moment, kissing him again. He sprinkled kisses all over Logan’s face until he too was smiling like an idiot. Roman let him down, but grabbed hold of one of his hands.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been holding that back,” Roman whispered. Logan chuckled a little.

“I...think I can imagine,” Logan responded giddily.

Then Roman did something that really surprised him. He pulled Logan back into a tight hug. “I love you,” he whispered. Logan’s heart skipped a beat or eight. “More than anything. I’ve been waiting to tell you for so long. I love you, Logan.”

Logan’s eyes filled with tears as he buried his face in Roman’s chest. He smiled as he sobbed, whispering tiny “I love you too”s back at him. Roman melted and held him close. At the end of the night, they shared one last tender kiss before Roman headed home, but neither of them slept. The only thing they could think about was each other.

#wow that beginning part before the actual writing really said “unprofessional check”#i have no idea how to set this up #logince #logince fic #tssides #ts sides #sanderssides #sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #ts logan #ts roman #writing #i don’t know how to tag anything but especially not writing

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sgrayonderii · 4 years

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trials of izanagi

SSM20 #8: Let’s play pretend

Sakura tells Sasuke the reasons why they should get married. RTN!AU (Rated T)

When his father calls for a family meeting, Sasuke half fears it’s been finally revealed that he was the one that burned down the garden shed and not the neighborhood teens as he claimed.

But when his mother also arrives with a stern expression, Sasuke realizes this is worse than a bit of light arson.

He fidgets at the dining table nervously as he watches his father nod to his mother to begin.

“As you know,” she starts, “you are getting to age where one should consider settling down.”

Sasuke groans.

“Mother!” But she raises her hand to silence him.

“Sasuke, this is a good opportunity for you and the clan.”

“What about Aniki?”

His mother’s face adopts a sour look, not pleased to be interrupted. “Your brother has his own duties. You should only concern yourself with your own.”

Sasuke tries to protest once again but his mother’s stony features leave no room for argument.

“I’d expect you not to embarrass yourself or the clan,” Her expression is one of usual exasperation at his antics. “Sasuke, it is time for you to grow up.”

---

Sasuke has always been quite bitter that his brother is allowed to gallivant around the countryside with his band of questionable acquaintances while the responsibilities of their clan are dumped onto him.

And it’s not that he doesn’t want to get married either! Having spent so much of his life devoted to his family’s whims, Sasuke at least wants to choose who he wants to spend his life with.

Secretly, he quite enjoys the daydreams where he comes home to have a quiet night with the love of his life and what he is sure to be their small squadron of children.

So Sasuke comes up with a plan.

He supposes if he makes himself an utter unmarriageable fool, this nonsense would be over. Even a name as prestigious as Uchiha would not be enough to secure an engagement if he is the most undesirable human being in the world.

So the day of the marriage interview, he tries to look like the failure his family assumes he is. Sasuke puts on a sweat suit he wore out to training two days ago paired with his sandals and mismatched fuzzy socks. He doesn’t brush his teeth and doesn’t even style his hair. He even spends a few days trying to grow a beard.

Sasuke looks like an absolute disaster. Which is quite a hard thing to do he might add; curse his beautiful face!

He arrives at the casual diner he had chosen feeling confident and clever, because what could be more disappointing to start off a potential marriage than a place he knows has more health violations than he has fingers?

That is until he realizes who his mother managed to set him up with.

Sakura-chan, beautiful as ever, is sitting in the sticky booth the hostess leads him to with a cup of what he is sure is black coffee.

Sasuke immediately regrets every life choice he has ever made. He wonders whether activating the Izanami right now would save him from dying of embarrassment.

A thousand thoughts are running through his head all at once. Is this a joke? What is Sakura-chan doing here? What about Menma? Should he turn around and walk out like nothing happened?

However she glances up at him with those lovely eyes of hers and Sasuke cannot help but blurt out the most pressing thing tumbling around in his short-circuiting brain.

“I thought you wanted to get married for love?!”

Not missing a beat, “Good morning to you too, Sasuke. I see you know how to impress a lady.”

Sasuke wonders if he can throw himself out the window.

But his pride dictates that he cannot embarrass himself anymore in front of Konoha’s fairest, so he squares up, grits his teeth, and slides into the booth.

“Don’t change the subject,” taking in her own outfit. White coat and business casual. So it must be clinic day. “Why are you here Sakura-chan?”

He cannot think of any reason why Sakura would suddenly want to marry him; Sasuke has always considered the greatest tragedy and irony in his life is the fact that the love of his life does not feel the same way. So he waits for her explanation.

Sakura, to her credit, always is cool and collected and is logical to a fault. She does not shy away from his questioning facing him directly to answer.

“Your mother asked me to consider a marriage into the Uchiha clan.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes, “Just because you two get along doesn’t mean you have to humor her, especially when it comes to getting married!”

She takes a sip of her coffee, now not quite looking at him. Almost guilty. “She told me that if I married either you or Itachi-san, your clan would back my bid for Hokage.”

Anger bubbles in his stomach. Envy burns down his throat. Betrayal is bitter on his tongue. It is one thing for his mother to meddle in his life, it’s another for Sakura to be so callous as to use his love for power.

“Why are you meeting me then?” His brother might be a flighty vagabond, but Itachi is the heir and he is the spare.

She seems to understand what he is truly asking. “Sasuke, you are a rising star in the Konoha. The people of this village trust you greatly.”

“You can’t stand me.”

“You’re annoying but I don’t hate you.” She smiles sadly, as if enjoying a particularly cruel joke. “I don’t think I could hate you, truly.”

“Sakura-chan, with all due respect, between your father and the Fifth’s recommendation, I don’t think you need my family at all.”

Sasuke takes a deep calming breath to hide his frustration, trying to act nonchalant, “But if you still want to get hitched Kitten, I’m all for it.” He even throws in a lighthearted wink.

She ignores his last comment. “My father and Tsunade-shishou are popular with the people, but the council is not fond of either of them. Too peace loving apparently.”

“My family isn’t very popular with the council either.”

“But the Uchiha clan is one of the oldest clans in Konoha, its influence is enough to convince other families. Enough to over rule the council.” Sakura smiles wryly, “In return, the Uchiha clan will have ties with the Hokage office. Think of it as a strategic alliance.”

This is just like Sakura, cold and calculating. Sasuke does not hate it; her ambitions are part of her charm.

“What’s in it for me then?”

“If you do accept, your parents would be satisfied you are an upstanding, successful citizen and will no longer have any right prying in your affairs.”

He doubts that it would stop them but allows her to continue, “I also don’t plan to…interfere with your extramarital activities.” Sasuke begins to feel a sense of dread as Sakura continues, “A marriage of convenience if you will.”

This is his boiling point and he finds himself shouting.

“No, it’s a sham! How you could have completely given up on love?!”

Sakura is a woman who has always been loved shallowly and one can only be the object of admiration for long before realizing it’s only empty reverence. The one thing she always craved is the unconditional love she lost so long ago along when her parents passed. Sasuke cannot believe Sakura can give up that so easily.

“You’re the one who doesn’t understand anything Charasuke!” She is now equally angry, “Do you think I want to use my husband’s name to get the Hokage’s seat!? How everything I’ve spent my life working for amounts to nothing in the eyes of the council?! ”

“It doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice your own happiness for this!” Because even now, even though his affections for her are unyielding and painful and true, he just wants her to be happy.

To find love and be loved, even if it isn’t with him.

“I’m running out of time!” She is shaking now, in anger, in frustration, in a hopelessness Sasuke has never seen. “Tsunade -shishou told me that the council is considering making Menma the Hokage after she retires.”

“Menma? What? He can barely carry conversation!” And he is impulsive. Just as likely to start a war as he is to end it.

Sakura looks sick, “Menma has a strong shinobi, but that’s all he is. He is not suited for politics. He only knows how to end conflicts with shows of strength.”

“Do you really think that Menma will actually accept the position?” Because regardless of their disagreements, Menma is still his best friend. Menma isn’t the type to seek power wantonly.

“Maybe, maybe not. But he is now married to the Hyuuga family. And you know how easily he can be influenced.”

Sasuke wants to defend his friend’s honor but he admits she has a point.

“So when your mother came to me about this...I don’t know I just thought this might be my only chance.

I know this is unfair to you, which is why we can just pretend to be a married couple in name only. You are under no obligation to change your ways Sasuke.”

Sakura is resigned to her fate to a supposedly loveless marriage and Sasuke hates it.

“But I cannot let Menma and the council turn this village into a battlefield. I cannot let them ruin my parent’s legacy.”

This is insane. It’s not right. She may be the logical one, but he has always been the romantic.

This is not at all how he imagines their life together would be.

Sakura takes in his uncharacteristic silence as the end of the conversation and gathers her things.

“You don’t have to answer me right now, just think about it.” And with that she departs, leaving him alone in the booth.

---

Sasuke has always pretended that his family’s obvious favoritism and Sakura’s indifference towards him, never bothered him.

He distracts himself with pretty girls and pretty flowers. But really, he just does not have the courage to face the reality of being the fallback and second place.

That no matter what he does or how hard he works, he will never measure up to the Uchiha’s prodigal son or even his best friend.

He just wants someone to look at him and only him.

And maybe that's why he has always been so drawn to Sakura, the daughter of fallen heroes.

Because maybe she just also wanted someone to see her tears. To realize what was underneath her facade.

The pretty girl who cries when she is alone so she doesn’t bother anyone else, yet in front of the rest of the world is the image of stunning grace and confidence. Who heals him when he bleeds and listens to him when he cannot bear the expectations of his family anymore.

He admires her bravery. He falls for her kindness.

Sasuke loves her, he has for a long time.

He wonders if she knows this.

And so that’s why he is waiting outside the clinic later that afternoon, in his best clothes, clean shaven, with a bouquet of lavender flowers.

No more pretenses.

He will give her his name, the world, and their marriage will be anything but loveless. He will make sure of it.

A/N: This was an AU of another AU WIP that went of the rails. Thank you for reading! Happy SSM20 and stay safe!

#sasusaku #SSM20 #SSM20d8 #sasusaku month #sasusaku fanfiction #Sasuke Uchiha #sakura haruno #sgrayonderii #sgrayonder #hope the tags are working!

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musexmess · 4 years

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mix x fem!tezca

If they had a kid

This man deserves a big family and damn it I will give him one:

Name: Cuetlachtli

Gender: Male ( he/him )

General Appearance:

Bronce skin, curly dark hair worn short and combed through since it gets frizzy if he doesn’t tame it. Usually has a stubble, rarely seen clean shaven. Deep brown eyes, a mole on his neck and a few on his body. He has a tattoo of the sun on the right side of his chest and a long scar just above his hip on the left side. He is quite muscular, standing at 1.84. Their nails are usually painted black and their clothing style is very casual; he will more often than not wear black tank tops and jeans, usually bare feet or with flip flops.

Personality:

Sporty and sweet, Cuetlachtli laughs loud and enjoys life to the fullest. He is very protective over his siblings and took a caretaker role with them, following the example of the grown ups around him. He enjoys doing house chores and bakes when he is stressed and happy. He is very difficult to anger but when he does get mad, he is cold as a stone and has a sharp tongue. He love lifting weights and wrestling with the members of Mix’s pack, he is not the brightest when it comes to other things but he is very kind hearted and caring. He likes to take care of animals and the woods, he is patient and very discipline. In all, Cuetlachtli is a big bear that will only show his claws when truly provoked.

Special Talents:

He has the power to control water but only salt water, he is capable of healing wounds with energy and when combined with his water bending abilities, he can heal even the deadliest of problems. He has super strength and his nahual is a wolf that is larger than average. His eyes turn a golden when using his powers and he is stronger in the moonlight.

Who they like better:

They love spending time with Micte and Coatlicue as well as Necu

Who they take after more:

Definetely Mixcoatl

Personal Head canon:

He is dyslexic and struggles to read. He got really frustrated when his little siblings asked for stories and he kept messing them up so he started to invent new ones. He is a great story teller and even has a few written on notebooks. If only his writing wasn’t a mess.

Face Claim: Adam Rodriguez

Name: Xipil

Gender: Female ( she/her )

General Appearance:

Long brown hair, most of the time worn down with an ocasional pony tail. Big eyes, one black and the other deep blue, both of them with star-like specks. She has a beauty mark above their lip on the right side as well as one below her eye on the left. She has a birthmark of the Lupus constellation on the outer side of their left thigh. She is of slim complexion but quite muscular as well, standing at 1.70. Her style is very feminine and she enjoys wearing floral prints. Her go to are flowy dresses, bare feet or sandals.

Personality:

Graceful and bold, Xipil has a flare for the dramatics. She enjoys putting up shows and acting as well as watching telenovelas and mystery shows. She is very clever and has an eye for detail. Xipil is very neat and loves to look pretty, she loves makeup and painting her nails, nothing makes her happier than a day in the spa taking care of herself. She is not very patient and can be rather bossy, specially when she wants to get something done fast and the way she wants. A little spoiled, Xipil has a hard time taking no for an answer. She is, however, really charming and extremely loyal.

Special Talents:

She has the power to control fire and the temperature around her. She is also a nahual and can turn herself into a black jaguar. She possess superhuman strength and can run impossibly fast. However, the faster she moves, the longer she might need to recover. When using her powers, her eyes turn completely obsidian black and when gazed upon them, you see your worst fears.

Who they like better:

She loves Quetzalcoatl and Pilli, they are both her favourites.

Who they take after more:

They lean more towards Tezca

Personal Head canon:

Her ability to move fast makes her have an incredible metabolism so she is constantly snacking. She always went to her elder brother to ask for food instead of her parents and he would always give her the best snacks. Her favourite food is made by Coatlicue.

Face Claim: Carmela Zumbado

Name: Citlalcoatl

Gender: Genderqueer ( he/him || they/them || she/her )

General Appearance:

Black hair, curly and worn short on the lower part and longer on the top part. Thick eyebrows, brown eyes with specks of gold in them. They have their right ear pierced and a tattoo of a jaguar in the left side of their back. Their style is pretty casual and androgynous, enjoying to wear shoes and mismatched socks. They are of medium built, not too muscular and stand at 1.75. They usually paint their nails bright colours and have their tongue pierced.

Personality:

Quiet and serious, Citlalcoatl is not the most outgoing person. They are reserved and keep to themselves most of the time. Or at least that is how it is with their family. For his friends, however, they are very laid back and fun to be around. They are very selfless and like to help others with their problems. However, they tend to put themselves last and bottle up their emotions until they all come bubbling up and explode, making him say negative things and hurt other’s feelings. They like boxing but only in theory for they don’t like the idea of being in a ring and are very good at painting, enjoying graffiti quite a lot. Citlalcoatl loves their family with all their heart but has trouble connecting with them.

Special Talents:

He can’t fully turn himself into a jaguar but he can make his teeth turn to fangs and his hands turn into sharp claws and can make his form change to his gender’s liking. He has the power to control the wind can manipulate clouds, even when he can’t create them from scratch. He has the ability to blend with nature and feels his most powerful with the sunlight. His eyes glow when using his powers and he can throw knifes with incredible precision.

Who they like better:

They like to spend their time with Ollin and admire Xolotl

Who they take after more:

He is not particularly like either but most would say he is like Tezca.

Personal Head canon:

Their gender and their sexuality were a real struggle. First to figure out their gender and then, to come to terms that they liked boys. Telling Mixcoatl and Tezca about their gender wasn’t that big of an issue but they still hadn’t had the courage to come out in terms of their sexuality, afraid of disappointing Mixcoatl. Part of them knows that Mix will love him no matter what but it still scares him to tell him the truth.

Face Claim: Deigo Tinoco

Name: Yoali

Gender: Demigirl ( she/her || they/them )

General Appearance:

Long brown hair, worn down or in braids. They have black eyes and thin brows. They have a thick black line going around both of her upper arms, both of her ears are pierced and usually wears golden earnings. Their style is casual, mostly printed t-shirts and jeans with worn out converse. They enjoy long sleeves and have a tendency to wear hoodies all year round. They are dainty and stand at only 1.56. They have long fingers and their nails are well taken care of with the exception of the thumb in her right hand which she tends to bite on when nervous.

Personality:

Bubbly and imaginative, Yoali enjoys ballet and hunting in the same respects. They like to wake up early in the morning and go on jogs, having a ver specific routine that they do not like to break. Yoali is very focused when she has a goal in mind and takes great pride in her accomplishments. She is very responsible and sets high standards for herself. She can get anxious when stressed and try to chew more than she can bite. Yoali is very empathetic and will always notice what others around her are feeling and will try her best to help if those emotions are negative. She is energetic and very capable, despite being the youngest of her siblings she is extremely mature and wise for her age.

Special Talents:

Out of all her siblings, she is the best hunter. Her nahual is the wolf and when she turns, her fur is completely white and almost ethereal looking. She can walk through air when she is in this form and run through the very skies. She has the ability to walk on any surface without effort and can communicate with all canis. When using her powers, her hair turns white and seems to glow like starlight.

Who they like better:

They love to spend time with Huitzi and adore the pack.

Who they take after more:

A good balance between both, tho leans more towards Mixcoatl

Personal Head canon:

When she was little and her siblings were practising with bow and arrow, she had to just watch. However, tired of being seen as the baby, she grabbed a bow and an arrow and show one right into the middle of the target from further away than any of her siblings. Everyone thought it was beginners luck until she did it again. And again. And with her eyes closed. Mixcoatl was ridiculously proud and took her to get more ice cream than she could eat.

Face Claim: Jenna Ortega

#long post for ts

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sapphicvevo · 6 years

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unpopular fashion headcanons

lance: is the future equivalent of a hipster. i’m sorry but it’s true. look at his old school outfit compared to everyone’s casual attire that seems to be the status quo of the times (fingerless gloves, fanny packs, leather, vests, etc.). lance is shopping through his family’s clothes and good will. rocks the same black and white converse with the occasional different pair of shoes. a sandals bitch through and through. if he lives in southern california, no shoes are an option. minimalist.

allura: comfy and casual in altea fashion or is an absolute disaster in regards to earth fashion. look at her casual dress she wears. no flavor. when i think altea fashion, i’d like to think they were the most extra—think of capitol fashion from thg. she wasn’t interested because she’s running around in the forests of altea and loves to fight and roll around in the dirt. you need to be cute and casual with the most flowy fabrics for that. on earth she doesn’t realize earth fashions and is patterns on top of patterns. mismatched socks because they’re fun. feaux fur jackets with a polkadot dress. a fashion disaster for the ages but she’s rocking it. peak wlw fashion. thanks for your time.

#p #lance #allura #oritjgoirtjgoirt

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greenishbucket · 7 years

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Autumn Serenade

Ford, summer, and hockey. 1.8k, also on ao3.

For Day 1 of OMGCheckPlease! Women Week 2017

Here’s the thing: Ford loves playing hockey.

Her brothers had balked when she’d told them happily over Skype that she’d joined up for the local rec league, no real training but enough vague knowledge and passion to power through. She’s hardly expecting to be on the first line or anything, it’s just fun and exciting and a way to get to know people. Ford’s been involved in local theatre for as long as she can remember – and it’d been the first place she’d looked at when she moved into the area – but stage managing is her forte and it’s a lonely task, the gratitude and respect warming but the responsibilities endless.

Ford can let go in hockey. It’s no contact but there’s the same satisfaction in using careful moves to snatch the puck from the opposition as there is in watching the curtain fall on a perfect show. Only the satisfaction is several times a game rather than a few nights preceded by weeks of organisation and she has a whole team to burn with the satisfaction in time with her.

Her parents had been worried about injury but were easily comforted by the assurance she’d have a full face cage and enough ragtag gear to keep her safe (though she didn’t share how the league had probably had since forever the way it stank). Both her brothers played football well into their college days; her parents are no strangers to accepting their kids playing dangerous sports.

She’s under no misapprehensions about the level of acceptance in the league compared to her usual theatre crowd as her mother suggested, either. Ford knows how hockey is. Besides, theatre kids are so, so far from perfect and Ford’s been black and a lesbian her entire life; she’s not going to let some jackasses stop her from expanding her horizons, especially since she seems to have lucked out massively with her teammates. Lardo, as both her team captain and one of the founders of the league, is both one of the coolest, chillest and one of the most unflinchingly assertive people Ford has ever met.

Ford wouldn’t have let her parents stop her anyway. She’s an adult now, free from college and just about managing to live away from home by sharing her apartment with a squirrely PhD student and a midwife-in-training and carefully budgeting every penny. So what if she wants to portion some of the careful budgeting to the rec league fees, to going out for drinks with the girls after a game? It’s fun, it’s new, it’s giving her thighs to die for.

Here’s the other thing: so far she hasn’t actually played in a real game.

Ford signed up as part of the rec league after coming to watch their final two games before the long summer break. Rec league never really breaks – or so Lardo and Farms both remind anyone who dare use the term ‘break’, five timetabling spreadsheet tabs open and four group chats pinging continuously on three laptops between them – but summer means people vacationing with family and wanting to be outside in the sun rather than holed up in a scruffy ice rink no matter how hockey-loving Ford knows the girls to be.

There are a couple of games for fun over the months and plenty of street hockey and people can practice as often as they like in twos or threes – plus Heaven knows Ford is busy enough with the local theatre summer production, she couldn’t resist – but their first real league game isn’t until the very end of September. Ford has it circled in red marker on the calendar in the kitchen and every morning she looks at it with a mix of burning hot excitement and sick trepidation.

Until now, Ford has always been a summer girl. Every year as school or college started the transition ached, the first few days spent forcing herself to look away from the windows and focus on work again instead of grabbing hold of the last stretches of real warmth, the sunlight golden and the leaves just beginning to turn brown. She always feels weird and mismatched pulling on her jeans and socks and fall sweaters again, the layers and weight a trap compared to her light summer dresses and skirts and shorts, the ease of simple flats or sandals. Ford loves summer. Everything feels possible and endless on a bright summer’s day stretching out into a warm summer’s night and it revitalises every part of her that gets worn down and exhausted in the decay of fall and the long, cold winter. Spring is a start but nothing gives to Ford like summer does.

This year Ford feels like summer has passed at half the speed it usually does, even now in mid-September the weather reflecting a September dragging its feet on leaving summer behind, and she’s impatient with it. The rush of playing what few games ran during the summer was a wonder but Ford can’t help but think what it could be like in a real game, in something that doesn’t count in the grand scheme of things but counts to her and her teammates in this rec league among rec leagues. She can’t help but see her experiences now as a pale imitation.

Ford is already half in love with hockey and now she wants to play it.

This year each browning leaf and pumpkin-themed Pintrest board and knitted scarf means moving closer to the rec league getting under way for the season. Fprd finds herself watching the transitions with anticipation rather than her usual sadness and the thought of her summer clothes being replaced by the weight of her gear, disgusting though the pads may be, doesn’t have the usual quasi-claustrophobic panic.

“Last day of summer today,” her brother says, eye on his own calendar as they try and figure out a time to meet up over FaceTime. “Always makes me think of you.”

Once when Ford was seven she’d cried inconsolably on the last day of summer even though the weather hadn’t been truly summery in weeks, confusing and worrying both her teacher and parents. It had just been the finality of it, the confirmation that all the opportunities of the summer really were passed. This morning she’d spotted the tiny note in the day’s square and felt a twinge of something, a sadness that it was over for another year and a weariness at the prospect of the aches and pains and boredom of winter, but nothing like when she was seven. Ford’s pretty sure she’d even been a lot more upset the year before, too, wearing summer clothes in protest even when it was cold enough that she was shivering all day.

“I know, I saw,” she says, “and like it sucks, my God fall is boring and winter sucks, but I’ve got my first hockey game tomorrow. Which is pretty cool.”

Her brother is silent for long enough that she looks over at the screen to make sure he hasn’t been cut off. He’s still there, face up close to the camera like he’s trying to get a better look at her.

“Who even are you?” he asks, phone so close all Ford can see is one eye.

“Quit it, your eye is freaking me out.”

“You’re freaking me out. What happened to ‘summer is all that matters, all other seasons are a capitalist cage, I want ice cream but I’m too cold, football can kiss my ass, all my theatre nerds are sick with flu’ blah blah whatever the fuck?”

“I never said any of that!”

“You know what I mean,” her brother finally pulls his phone back a little but the look he’s giving her is still alarmed. “You’re always complaining that summer is over until, like, April. It’s part of my routine.”

Ford shrugs. “I don't know. I guess the game is taking precedence over mourning summer. Fall is so depressing and winter is so cold I can’t go anywhere – I’m looking forward to having enough to do that I'm too tired to miss the sun but also, like, getting to actually hang out with people instead of just bossing them around.”

Her brother considers this then laughs. “Well, shit, if you say so. Maybe we should have tried to get you into hockey when you were younger if it was gonna make you this okay with seasons passing. Remember that time you cried all day? How old were you, twelve?”

“I was seven, you asshole.”

His voice goes high pitched and whiney, a horrible impression of seven-year-old Ford: “Summer’s gone and I don’t want to learn more math I want to go swimming and eat bugs and I hate school and–”

She hangs up on him. A minute later he texts a suitable time to meet up and good luck for the game tomorrow. Seconds later her other brother, probably prompted to do so, texts a reminder to keep her teeth intact if possible. Ford sends both of them back a heart, smiling and genuinely touched in spite of herself, then sets her phone aside to make dinner.

Outside, there’s rain lashing against the windows and the weather report last night had confirmed it was unlikely the weather would pick up again before temperatures started sliding for real. Ford listens to her phone buzzing while she cooks and knows it’s probably one of the girls getting chirped to hell and back in the group chat, checks neither of her flatmates have disturbed the gear bag she’s left by the door for tomorrow.

Spring and summer have always been Ford’s time, the pressure pleasantly on with shows to polish up and perform and the long days to fill, with fall and winter at a pace too slow and unfocused to be satisfying. Ford knows herself and she knows needs to be challenged and kept driven, anything else feels draining. Hockey is giving her direction, not to mention friends she so desperately needed in a new place, and Ford thinks she could love it for that alone.

Luckily, she doesn’t have to. The next night she gets a messy assist and even their team losing in the final minutes after a close three periods doesn’t soften any of the thrumming delight under her skin, doesn’t stop the helmet-taps she receives for getting an assist in her first game (her first game!) or the exclamation marks her family text in response to the news. Not even the cold wind that’s icy against her neck as she stands outside the rink and answers three separate emails on set production can ruin her mood. It's fall and she's still busy enough with things that excite her that she feels the pressure of it, feels the tiredness in her muscles. It's amazing.

Ford loves playing hockey.

Feeling charitable, she gets herself a pumpkin spice latte on the way home. It’s not quite her usual cold vanilla sweet cream, a flavour that’s like a mouthful of summer to her, but Ford thinks perhaps it’s something she could learn to like.

#omgcpwomenweek #check please fic #my writing

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