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sidekickjoey · 1 year

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March Madness | Steddie

Happy March Madness! Since we all know Steve is a big basketball fan/player, I figured it would be fun to dive into a bit of Eddie’s relationship w/ sports (and Wayne), and maybe how it eventually leads him to bond with Steve. This includes research I did on the record of the Indiana Hoosiers men’s basketball team that weirdly coincides well with the timeline? (Though I sort of fudged the date the Upside Down stuff happened in ‘86 to match the basketball season, shhh). I’ve also linked the final basketball game I mention, which you can watch the final minute of as you read for ~realistic ambience~ Enjoy! 🏀

Eddie hates sports, but he is religious about watching basketball with Wayne.

It’s a ritual stemming back to the first night he spent at Wayne’s trailer in ‘76, when Eddie was 10. The cops had left late in the afternoon, dragging with them Eddie’s father Scott and his distraught mother Corrine, who had been too stoned to understand why she had to leave her son. As they drove one way, Eddie was driven another. He was taken all the way across Hawkins to Forrest Hills Trailer Park, where he was placed in the care of his next closest living relative, and perhaps the only relative willing enough to take Eddie in on such short a notice: Wayne Munson.

Eddie did not know much about his Uncle Wayne. His parents were never the visiting type and were more than happy to distance themselves from anyone who might stop their reckless lifestyle, family included. The only thing they ever mentioned was that he was related to his dad, and that he was some sort of loner engineer. Eddie was terrified to be placed so suddenly in the hands of a near complete stranger like he was. Then again, the alternative of being with his parents in jail did not sound too enticing.

So, Eddie followed quietly. He listened to the cops and the childcare workers and shook Wayne’s hand when they said hello, because he supposed that was the right thing to do to keep him out of that mess. He supposed it would put him on Wayne’s good side, and that maybe staying out of trouble would make this easier to handle. Maybe he’d be okay, in the end.

Trouble, however, had a tricky way of appearing anyway in situations involving Eddie. It came this time in the form of a delayed trauma response, waking Eddie from his new bed and leaving him a shaky, sniffly mess. He sat for the better half of an hour unsure what to do, of what type of response he’d get if he left the room and let Wayne in on how he felt. He’d heard the man yelling at something earlier. What if he shouted at him? What if he could be just as cruel as Scott, or worse? Could he even take that risk?

Imagine his immense relief when Wayne, upon seeing Eddie open the door, instead dropped everything to rush to ask if Eddie was okay, to ensure he hadn’t accidentally woken him up when he was yelling at the basketball game on TV.

“This championship’s a big one,” he had explained with an apologetic smile, wiping Eddie’s tears with a scarf he’d discarded nearby. “Been over twenty years since the last one, and we’re undefeated. You know how it is.”

He didn’t. He had next to no knowledge of sports aside from horseshoes, and it was not like that one ever got heated enough to yell about. Not really. Still, he let Wayne believe he knew. He also let him push his scraggly hair out of his eyes, walk him to the pullout couch, and sit him down to his right with a can of root beer in hand, because something deep down told Eddie that Wayne would do the same no matter what he knew about basketball, or any other sport for that matter. Wayne was the kind who, awkwardness of their new situation aside, really did care about making him feel cared for and welcomed. He was good. Safe.

Even at 10, Eddie knew he would watch just about anything, even silly looking guys with too-big mustaches and too-short shorts with the word ‘Hoosier’ printed on them, for someone who made him feel safe like that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Flash forward to 1981, and the Hoosiers were back in another championship.

Eddie was now a sophomore in high school. He was far removed from his prior timidness and quickly making a name for himself as a boisterous, music loving, nerdy ‘freak’ of a human being to the general population. If he wasn’t getting himself in trouble and rebelling against authority for fun, he was risking his freedom selling ‘stuff’ for that Reefer Rick guy to get some extra cash for records.

It was driving Wayne up a wall.

He had tried stopping Eddie the first time he learned about it. Terrified Eddie’d end up hauled away like his parents, he had pleaded with the boy to reconsider, even offered him some of his own spending money, but Eddie was quick to assure him it would all be okay. He was Eddie, after all. Eddie, who swore to Wayne he would never be like his parents. Eddie, who turned down the chance to see his dad in jail because he did not want to face the man who chose crime over fatherhood. Eddie, who did extra chores around the trailer whenever he felt like he was overstaying his welcome.

Eddie was a good boy - a smart boy. Eddie would know when to stop and back down, when to run away from a bad deal. Not to mention, Wayne had been young and strapped for cash once. He remembered how much it sucked to not have money to see a movie and and how isolating it had been to turn down dates to save for dinner the next day. He didn’t want that life for Eddie. Eddie and his big heart deserved the world.

So, he made a deal with him. As long as he came home in time for the Hoosier games, safe and sound, Wayne wouldn’t ask questions about what he was up to. He’d worry, and Eddie would no doubt see that worry firsthand, but he’d trust him. He’d give him that freedom. True to his word, Eddie always obliged. The delicate balance remained, albeit with a bit more gray hairs on Wayne’s part.

This game day was no different. Five minutes before tip-off, Eddie came sprinting through the trailer’s door with a whoop and a near demolishing of their door-side plant - a tiny thing the boy was determined to keep alive despite not having a green bone in his body. Wayne, nursing a beer, merely rolled his eyes at the commotion and patted the seat beside him. He waited for Eddie to get comfortable and then handed him a root beer. The boy reeked of whatever he had sold, probably pot, but he looked happy next to Wayne with that root beer in hand. Wayne could live with that. He’d always live with that, if it meant being by Eddie’s side.

“Isiah Thomas should put up a good one today,” he said after a moment, patting his nephew’s knee. “Them folks at North Carolina won’t know what him ‘em.”

Eddie chuckled and watched Isiah make a practice shot with ease, the reporters waxing poetic about him to each other in their booth. “With your confidence, Uncle Wayne, any Isiah or Thomas would be unstoppable in battle.”

Wayne clinked his bottle against Eddie’s. Laughed. Gazed up at the ceiling feeling so lucky because Eddie was trying, really trying again, and that always was a good sign.

They continued like this for the rest of the half, making mindless comments and jokes between Wayne’s ranting and raving at the screen. It was comfortable, easy, and incredibly domestic - everything they had built together over the past few years epitomized.

And then, halftime came.

Disney was holding a special halftime contest. If a little boy could make a basket all himself from the foul line, he and his entire family would get to go to Disney World on behalf of the Hoosiers, all expenses paid. The little boy understandably looked petrified on screen. He stood there, shaky knees and big ball in hand as his dad stood off to the side, looking like the court might just swallow him whole. His fear was not that much unlike Eddie’s had been when he first arrived. Eddie had held the same worried expression, screaming ‘I don’t want to mess this up’ with his eyes. It made Wayne want to hug the boy through the screen. It made Eddie, on the other hand, lean forward in his chair. Bite his nails. Actually pay attention, for the kid’s sake.

The crowd soon grew hushed. The announcers held their breath. And then, the little boy stepped forward.

“SCORE!”

“Oh my god he made it,” Eddie said once, twice, then a third time loudly as he shook Wayne’s arm nearly out of its socket. “The little guy did it, Uncle Wayne! Oh my god, I’ll be damned! He did it! His dad’s so proud, look!”

Sure enough, the little boy and his dad on the screen were jumping up and down as if they were the happiest people on earth. Then again, Wayne figured few people were as happy as his nephew was beside him, still shaking his arm like he’d won the lottery. He chuckled, a feeling of fondness overcoming him as his curls swung closer and closer to his face and the shaking grew more ridiculous.

“Heh, you’ll be proud too of your lil’ one if they win ya’ a free vacation someday, kid.”

It was a harmless comment, really. Wayne did not mean anything to come of it - maybe a distracted chuckle or two from Eddie. Maybe a witty comeback. He had not, however, expected the boy to freeze up on the spot. He did not expect the grip on his arm to fall, nor the light in his eyes to fade. He really did not expect him to retreat into himself, there but not fully there. Setting his beer down and lowering the TV volume, Wayne frowned.

“You alright, boy?”

“Y-Yeah,” Eddie coughed. It hardly was convincing.

“I didn’t say something wrong now, did I? Did I remind ya’ about your pa?”

Shaking his head, Eddie set his root beer down on their coffee table right next to Wayne’s drink. His face paled a bit as he looked back at Wayne, and when he opened his mouth to speak, the faintest of tears welled up in his eyes. This most definitely was not nothing, Wayne decided then and there. His frown deepened, joined then by a few crinkles by his eyes.

“Uncle Wayne...what if...what if I didn’t...what if I never had a lil’ one to win a vacation?”

“You mean not have kids?”

“Y-Yeah.”

Wayne paused, glancing at the TV. A reporter was interviewing the little boy’s dad, the boy giggling on his shoulders. It was cute. Not a be-all, end-all, but cute.

He shrugged.

“Well, then I reckon you, your lady, and I’d save a lot on toys, but we’d manage well enough. We’d still be happy. Was that what was eating you up?”

Eddie once again shook his head. He looked ready for the earth to swallow him whole, just like the little boy. It made Wayne’s heart clench.

“N-No,” he sniffled. “I, uh...what if I didn’t have a lady? O-Or a kid? What if I had a...guy?”

Now, Wayne was not stupid. He knew well enough that this was an option - had read the papers, met a few people like Eddie in the city. Admittedly, he had actually been worried that Scott might have kicked Eddie out for this reason when he’d gotten the call to take him in. Scott had never been one to hold an open mind, let alone an open relationship with his kid, and the little bits of Eddie’s personality that he had been able to see throughout the years had shown him he was a polar opposite from his father in many ways. Wayne had wondered what he would have done, if things had happened that way.

Watching Eddie’s tears fall harder before his eyes and seeing his hands shake where they once shook his shoulders in confidence, Wayne realized he had only one option on the table even back then. It didn’t matter what went on in Eddie’s private life. Just like the drugs, all that mattered was that Eddie was being safe and coming home to Wayne at night. Wayne could never, ever abandon him. He was his boy. His incredibly brave, incredibly loving boy who just wanted to be accepted. Who was he to be the one to turn away that love, to abandon him again, over something so inconsequential to his day-to-day life?

Placing his hand on Eddie’s knee, Wayne pushed the scraggly hair reeking of weed out of Eddie’s eyes and gave him a smile - a genuine, kind, scruffy smile only he could perfect.

“Like I said boy, we’d manage well enough. We’d still be happy.”

And really, it was as easy as that.

They embraced. Eddie thanked him. Wayne shoved his root beer back into his hand and teased Eddie about drawing the line at him ogling the opposing team, startling him into raucous laughter. Later, when the Hoosiers hoisted the championship trophy over their heads, they embraced again and did so as if nothing ever happened and they were meant to always be on that couch, just the two of them - just as they had, years ago.

Winning the championship from the safety of their trailer was far from winning a trip to Disney. They also were far from a traditional father and son. But, they were happy, and like before, Wayne could live with that.

Gray hairs and all, he could always live with that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ten years after watching the Hoosiers make the national championship together with Eddie, Wayne had to wonder if he would ever get to do so again.

It was not the Hoosiers’ fault. They were not doing amazingly, but they also were not that bad that year despite losing their final regular-season game to No. 7 Michigan. They had a real shot in the tournament as an underdog and a bright future when it came to their upcoming class of men. It would be maybe two years tops before they were right back at the top fighting for the championship, Wayne was sure.

No, this time, it was because his nephew, his wonderful nephew who had become such a boisterous and interesting young man, was fighting for his life on some operating table.

Wayne had not been told exactly what happened. The Henderson boy, the one Eddie had been taking under his wing, had only spared him a few details before limping away to check on his friends. There was something about an animal attack and Eddie fighting them off before they could hurt others. Somehow the earthquakes made it all worse, and Eddie wasn’t doing too well. Wayne might not have believed it all with how strange the timing was, but the blood coating the Henderson boy’s shirt and Eddie’s guitar pick necklace was fairly convincing. Scarily convincing.

So, Wayne stayed. Waited. Paced.

He worried in the waiting room of Hawkins General, hoping for a miracle and for his boy to come walking out safe and sound to him, to tell him this was all a lot of hullabaloo over nothing. They had a game to catch that night, after all. Eddie couldn’t miss Cleveland State go down, couldn’t let his root beer get warm.

The thing was, it was not a lot of hullabaloo over nothing. It was real, and Eddie was not coming out of that ER anytime soon if the lack of word his way was an indication. And, as if that was not jarring enough of a thought, John Harrington’s boy, Steve, was the one to affirm so.

Wayne had heard a little about Steve through Eddie. Mostly, he had heard that the boy hung out with some real jerks. He never was the one causing the trouble apparently, but he was still caught up in that wrong crowd, still unable to find a real way to escape and forced to appear as a jerk to survive. Eddie swore things would be different, if he only could break free. Wayne had been skeptical - knew better than to think the son of known-asshole John Harrington could ever be kind and worth caring for.

This night proved him wrong.

He just looked kind. Unlike his father, he had a softness in his eyes that said he meant no harm and a cautiousness to his movements that screamed hyper-aware of other’s feelings. He called Wayne sir when he asked to sit by his side, and when he did finally make it down all the way, he made sure to ask if Wayne was okay - Wayne, of all people, who wasn’t sitting there wearing blood and something sickeningly grimy all over himself. It almost made Wayne laugh, in a tragic sort of way, that someone so young could be so selfless even as the world was crumbling around him and his insides threatened to escape him.

Instead, he nodded and gestured to the TV.

“You follow this season?”

Nodding, Steve rubbed at his neck. A bit of red was etched there too, to Wayne’s horror.

‘Yeah. Though, I uh...I missed the ending of the Michigan game. Did they win?”

“Nope,” Wayne said, a bit choked up. “Was a bad one, ‘m afraid.”

“Oh.”

Silence returned.

It stayed, permeated like a thick cloud over the two of them and later the entirety of Eddie’s friend group, all the way through the ebbs and flows of the game. It was a much better game than the Michigan one thankfully, but the Hoosiers stood little chance with the lack of depth they had. They just were not on that night how they needed to be, did not have the spirit to make it happen. Sure enough, as the final seconds ran out on the clock, Cleveland State had them beaten by four. Their tournament run was done and short-lived, over too soon.

Just like Eddie, Wayne’s mind supplied cruelly. He turned to Steve, fighting tears.

“Maybe it’s a good thing Eddie missed this.”

Steve, blinking away his own tears, turned to Wayne confused and frowning. “Eddie watches basketball?”

“Does his best. He’s never been a big fan of the thing, but the Hoosiers are our team. We never miss a game, actually.”

“Oh. I had no idea.”

His hands began to rub at his thighs as if he were nervous. They gave a little shake too, if Wayne was not seeing things, and that just about broke Wayne’s heart.

By then, he knew what fear looked like. He knew when he saw confidence crumbling, when uncertainty was rearing its ugly head. Eddie had made him a pro at spotting it. He’d arrived home terrified plenty of times, had used Wayne as a rock when he felt his cool slipping away.

Steve looked eerily similar.

And in that moment, with the Hoosiers leaving the court on the screen, Wayne realized that there was a reason. John Harrington’s boy was far more than John Harrington ever would be. Steve was a kind boy, a caring boy. A boy who at some point shook the chains of his father and grew to care for Eddie, for the town freak, in his own unfathomable way. A boy who chose to share a game alongside the freak’s uncle and ignore his wounds, all because he wanted to be around when they knew if he would be okay.

Wayne did not know much, but he knew that meant something.

He definitely knew that it would mean something to Eddie, if he ever left that operating room.

So, not caring who saw, Wayne pulled Steve into his arms and refused to let go. Just sat there letting the boy decompress on his shoulder, showing him he was not alone in...well, whatever fearful nightmare they were in. He listened to his choked breaths, rubbed his back when those breaths turned into full sobs, and watched the ER door stay shut as reality washed over him.

There was a chance Eddie would never wake to see another Hoosier game with him.

There was a chance he would never get to bond with Steve over basketball.

There was a chance it would be just him and Steve, watching games in the ER each year, hoping for good news and anticipating the worst between plays.

But, there was also a chance Eddie would wake and get to do everything he wished to do and more. There was a chance Eddie would one day raid his root beers again, laugh at how silly the Hoosier’s mascot looked, and maybe even nag Steve to explain what was going on in the games so Wayne didn’t have to. Maybe, they could all attend a game one day and just enjoy it. Live a little, as the saying went.

Holding Steve tight, Wayne hoped an outcome like that would even be possible.

And then, he hugged tighter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay, this is the LAST popcorn I am buying. Freakin bottomless pits, the both of you.”

Giggling behind a strand of his hair, Eddie took the bucket of popcorn from Wayne’s hands and handed it over to Steve at his side. Steve readily took a handful before passing it back. He then loudly slurped his drink, making Eddie giggle.

“Hey, it’s hard work pretending to care in front of two basketball aficionados. I’ve got to fuel up if I ever want to look like I belong here.”

“Babe, I’m pretty sure that train passed like, an hour and a half ago when you walked in,” Steve teased with a mouthful of kernels. Eddie rolled his eyes and tossed a kernel at his nose.

Steve, of course, tossed one back, starting World War III in section 20.

If it had been any other game with any other relative of his and his relative’s partner, Wayne might have raised his voice and gotten a bit upset at the two to his left causing a scene. However, it wasn’t. It was his nephew Eddie, finally fully healed from the disaster that nearly cost him his life, and his nephew-in-law (or, soon-to-be at least, if Wayne’s guesses were correct), Steve. The two were absolute menaces, but they were having fun. They were being kids. After everything they had seen and been through, and after almost losing them both, Wayne supposed they were allowed a few slightly annoying, borderline embarrassing moments of existence in public.

Well, at least while the TV timeout went on.

“Way-neee,” Eddie cried after a few more kernels went his way, shoving Steve’s hat - a new Hoosiers cap he’d purchased earlier - down his face, “make him stop! He’s gonna waste all the good buttered stuff at the top of the bucket!”

“Should’ve thought about that when you made the first shot,” Steve grumbled back. The moment his hat was back in place, he was reaching into the bucket and teasing a handful of the buttery stuff in Eddie’s face. All efforts to retaliate were soon thwarted by Wayne though, courtesy of the buzzer blaring loud around them.

“I’ll toss the whole thing if you two make me miss the final minute.”

Eddie, in true Eddie fashion, gasped. His hand also landed on his chest dramatically for emphasis, as if he needed it. “You wouldn’t!”

Eyeing the half-finished root beer in Eddie’s cupholder, Wayne shrugged and turned his eyes to the court. “Dunno. Might feel like tossing the drink too while I’m at it if you keep it up.”

“You WOULDN’T!”

“Shhhh Eds, they’re taking the court!”

And take the court, they did. The Hoosiers were neck-and-neck with the Syracuse Orangemen (”We’re playing oranges? What the hell?” “Shut up and eat your popcorn, Eddie.”). With the final few shots imminent and both teams tied at 70, everyone was on the edge of their seat. Syracuse had the ball, and with plenty of time to burn off the clock, it was possible they would render Indiana unable to answer their ‘winning shot.’ That was their plan, after all, and it almost came to fruition with a well-timed two-pointer with under a minute to go.

Wayne gripped onto his arm rest. Steve nervously ate popcorn. Eddie nervously watched Steve eat popcorn.

And then, Indiana not only missed their shot, but gave Syracuse an attempt at making two more points.

“Freakin refs hate us,” Wayne grumbled into his drink. He picked it up just as Eddie picked up his and sipped in harmony. Eddie considered making a joke about it until he noticed the grim look on both his and Steve’s face beside him. He sunk in his seat.

“Maybe they’ll help us out later.”

“Fat chance,” Steve moaned, leaning back in his chair. He ran his hand roughly through his hair. “They’ve been keeping this game close. Fuck, we’re gonna lose on stupid foul shots!”

“Fear not my king, there is still time,” Eddie offered gently with a tiny smile. He then faltered, turning to Wayne. “Right? It’s not like, over? They can still win?”

Wayne shook his head. “Still got time. Thirty seconds or so, I reckon.”

Eddie brightened. “Thirty seconds is plenty! It can still be okay!”

Sure enough, after the Syracuse player made his foul shots (and missed one, thank goodness), the Hoosiers were able to grab the ball and score, putting them at 73-72 with thirty seconds exactly. It was a surmountable hurdle, but the groans from Steve and Wayne both revealed to Eddie that it was not as hopeful as it seemed. Apparently, another round of foul shots were in order for Syracuse. Having to tie and force overtime was a lot less fun than scoring a two and calling it a championship.

Eddie draped Steve’s jacket over their seats and reached for his hand beneath it.

“Maybe they’ll be okay,” he murmured, eyes hopeful.

Steve gave Eddie a soft look.

“HE MISSED!”

The two boys’ heads whipped toward the court in shock as the Hoosiers stormed down it, ball in hand. In seconds, they were standing alongside Wayne and the rest of the Hoosier faithful, shouting for the Hoosiers to ‘go.’ The clock ticked. The roar grew louder. The anticipation rose.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

“SMART SCORED!”

Before Eddie could process it, Wayne’s arms were tight around his body. He was being jumped around and shaken like a rag doll, while Steve yelled louder than Eddie had ever heard him yell at their side. Apparently, they were winning and might have won it all. Apparently, he had been right.

He had been right.

They were okay.

“WE WON?”

Well, sort of.

There was some issue with the clock that meant they might not have seen the end of the game just then. Eddie thought it was all a bit confusing - mumbled so from behind his drink. Wayne tried to parse it out for him, as did Steve, but Eddie just didn’t really know what they said. His brain was too caught up in the possibility that this might be a win. He wanted it so bad, craved it after everything that had gone down. He wanted to see his two favorite people happy.

Patiently, he waited for them to give him an update he did understand.

He got his answer when one second was placed on the clock.

“We’re gonna win it, Stevie,” he said in the quiet hush that fell over the crowd. “I can feel it. We’re gonna’ win.”

Glancing his way, Steve tried his best to smile. “I hope so.”

Eddie then turned to his uncle and bumped his shoulder. Wayne chewed at his lip before giving him his attention.

“We’re gonna’ win, right Uncle Wayne?”

It was small. It was nervous. It was incredibly like Eddie had sounded on that first night, when he had just wanted everything to be okay. Everything had turned out okay that night, in the end. It always somehow seemed to be okay in the end when it came to Eddie.

So, without any idea of what might happened, Wayne gave him a nod and nudged him back.

“Sure, kid.”

Syracuse held the ball on the far side of the court.

The Hoosiers held their breath, as did Eddie.

They took their shot across the court, time stood still, and-

“IT’S OVER!”

Everyone suddenly was jumping in the stadium. Wayne, even with his aching knees, jumped in front of his foldable seat like a little kid. Steve, screeching like before, jumped against Eddie and shook him enough to almost knock him off his feet, screaming ‘WE WON, IT WAS OKAY’ over and over. And, even though it hurt his ears and he really feared falling into the people in the row in front of them, Eddie had never felt more alive or glad to let him do it.

There was beauty to that moment, after all. It really had all worked out. He really could be happy and enjoy a win for what it was. He could look to the ones he loved, see them happy, and not have to question it or worry when he might feel happy next. That was beautiful.

Almost as beautiful as his happiness looked to Wayne, who Eddie knew deep down would do it all again just to get them there to experience that moment of stupid balls-in-laundry-baskets bliss.

Eddie hates sports, but he is religious about watching basketball with Wayne (and Steve), and after the Championship of ‘87? Well, he damn might always will be.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #stranger things fanfic #st4 #stranger things ficlet #mini fic #stranger things fanfiction #st fanfic #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #march madness

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parvuls · 2 years

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okay. so I couldn't very well post all those meta posts and not analyze 'coach', could I?

there is just. so much to unpack here.

bitty's fear of confrontation

(bitty's first mention of coach vs. the coach arc)

could you even imagine bitty yelling at his dad like that in year 1? could you even imagine him explicitly seeking out the confrontation instead of taking the easy way out and making peace with not knowing?

year 4 bitty is sick and tired of feeling ashamed of who he is. that's not where he's at anymore. bitty found a home, and found a family, and came out to them, and found love, and came out with him, and faced every bad thing the world had to say about that, and is now leading a division one hockey team as an out gay man.

bitty learned to overcome his fear of confrontation one tiny step at a time over three long years, and this is the final step. the boss level. bitty is going to face the root of all that and demand an answer, and is going to learn to live with that answer, whatever that may be.

2. coach's Emotions

and that's emotions with a capital E.

the most telling statement coach gives in this whole comic is this one: I don't know what to do with you. and he means that super literally. bitty knows that; suzanne knows that; we know that.

coach spent his entire life with one type of men, and then he had bitty, and he does not know what to do with him. not because he thinks bitty's wrong in some way (although bitty certainly fears that), but because he literally doesn't know how to talk to bitty. in coach's world, coming all this way to watch bitty's game (and, also, routinely watch all of bitty's boyfriend games), is a straightforward way to support bitty. that's the love language between father and son that coach knows. much like: signing his son up to peewee football so he can coach him - so they could share a love for the sport.

coach doesn't know how to express his emotions in words. he really does think that not making a big deal out of bitty's sexuality and just quietly accepting jack into their life is the best way to support him. and honestly? coach probably wants the path of least resistance (much like... someone else we know). he's not exactly comfortable with this whole concept of """gays""" yet, but what good would that conversation be? and he's actually pretty hurt that his son let him find out about this with the rest of the entire fucking world, but what good would that conversation be?

let us flash back and remember that coach, in the midst of the cup party, didn't say a word about bitty coming out on tv before ever talking to them. all he said was "jack played a good game" and "call your mother [you're hurting her]". coach didn't give any indication that bitty hurt his feelings, too - but now it comes out in a burst.

3. plot twist: bitty is his father's son.

('summer with jack' blogpost)

so you thought bitty takes after his mom, huh? haha. NOPE.

so bitty represses his feelings, huh? so bitty would rather solve everyone's problems before admit he's hurting? so bitty would do anything to avoid confrontation? so bitty would escape tough conversations even when they're so important and hurting the people he loves ('hi honey', anyone?)?

yeah. so. the bittle men.

bitty has been in pain for, like, coming up to a decade now, because he really does think that his father considers the way he is as 'messed up'. and coach has been struggling to connect with his only child for about ~22 years now, and actually in pain for about 5-6 months, because his son apparently thinks his parents are on the same level of importance as every other living soul on the planet.

and they... choose to acknowledge this only when it literally explodes out of them.

how could coach know the right way to support bitty if bitty never told him? he couldn't. how could bitty know his father loves him as he is if coach never told him? he couldn't. it's like? words are? important? listen, when jack zimmermann tells you you need to talk to your daddy about your issues, something must be truly fucked up.

4. a hopeful future

so that's the bottom line. arguably four years of growth coming to fruition. bitty willingly confronted his dad; coach said the word 'boyfriend' and told bitty he's good; they parted ways knowing the next time they're going to see each other isn't in vaguely 7-8 months again. it's not just making nice with each other: they both took actions to communicate. coach using the word boyfriend is the representation of his willingness to learn and grow for bitty.

why do you think bitty nailed that check in the finale? because he can finally face the memory of that symbolically traumatic peewee game, and all that comes with it, without having to also wonder if his father is ashamed of him. he is now ready to (symbolically and uhhh kind of literally) take on the face of the hatred and homophobia that plagued him his whole life without holding himself back.

#omgcp #omgcheckplease #literally... this is so long I'm so tired the coach arc is so hard #LONG POST #meta #I probably have 100k more words to say but like. no more.#text

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hannahhook7744 · 10 months

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Hey Little Hope Fandom!

I'm trying to make a list of hobbies and info about The Clarkes (Plus Vince) and need a bit help.

If I missed anything let me know in the comments down below.

Here's what I got so far.

James:

Born on April 8, 1929.

Died on January 17, 1972.

Factory Worker at Ravenden Textiles Factory.

Worked with Vince.

Married Anne at 19.

He adopted all 4 of the kids.

He likes sports and darts.

May have had a bit of a drinking problem.

His middle name started with T.

42 when he died.

Has a temper.

Didn't approve of Tanya and Vince dating.

Worried about the factory closing alot and thought the kids would be fine, though he did tell Anthony to look out for Megan due to Anne's worrying.

Anne:

Born on February 12, 1931

Died on January 17, 1972.

Married James at 17.

40 when she died.

Was unable to have biological children.

Worried about the kids alot. Megan especially.

Didn't approve of Tanya and Vince dating.

Had a book on parenting.

Was frustrated with James.

Looked to the reverend for help after reaching her wit’s end with Megan.

Tanya:

Born on August 22, 1949.

Died on January 17, 1972.

22 when she died.

Middle name started with A.

Hated Little Hope and wanted to get away.

Practiced Paganism.

Dated Vince Barnes.

Yelled at Megan for playing with matches once.

Poured coffee on a handsy guy at work.

Was a waitress.

Had coworkers named Murray and Jeannie.

Painted stars on a tire swing with her dad when she was ten.

Liked Jewelry.

Gets frustrated easily.

Owned a diary.

Was miserable at home.

Calls Megan M and a living hell.

Drunk whiskey before.

Likes bowling and burgers.

Might have shared a room with Megan.

Dennis:

Born on April 29th,1951.

Died on January 17, 1972.

Was 20 when he died.

His middle name started with F.

Didn’t trust Vince.

Was a band guitarist.

Had tons of records and was a big fan of music.

He might have been adopted first.

Also may have been a thief based on a one off joke but maybe not.

Calls Megan bigfoot.

His band had posters.

He participated in a concert.

His band was a rock band.

Played rugby and maybe football.

He won several awards.

Anthony:

Was born on either 1953 or 1954. Exact date is unknown.

18 at the time of the fire.

Became a bus driver after his family died.

Is depressed and suicidal.

Tanya calls him ‘Mr. Knight in Shining Armor’.

Was annoyed with his parents’ fighting and his dad’s drinking as well as with how everyone treated Megan.

He resents Megan after their family’s deaths.

Built a doll in jail to remember Megan by.

Got burnt in the fire.

Was the second youngest of the family.

May have a fear of being left behind and might feel left out by his family.

Is traumatized after the fire.

Was fond of the witch trials.

Has mental health issues.

Was blamed for the fire.

Was helpful to the family.

Got along great with Vince before the fire.

Shared a room with Dennis.

His middle name was not revealed.

Played darts and may have played baseball or basketball.

Megan:

Born on June 16th,1960.

Died on January 27th, 1972.

Was 11, almost 12, when she died.

Her middle name started with R.

She was a problem child.

She had a history of playing with matches.

Was called M and the little princess by Tanya,

She was resented by a lot of people in the family.

Was mentored by the reverend for months.

Was the youngest.

Had a doll.

Became rebellious and felt like her family didn’t care about her.

May have read Tanya’s diary.

Watches tv.

Is called Big foot by Dennis.

Has mental health issues or may be able to talk to ghosts.

Was scared of the reverend.

Art was her best subject.

Had a C average and had an F in history, writing, science, and physical education.

Was resentful towards her parents.

Vince:

Factory Worker at Ravenden Textiles Factory.

Worked with James.

Has a temper.

Tanya’s boyfriend.

Has a nice car everyone is jealous of.

Likes whiskey, western movies, burgers, and bowling.

Plays dumb but is actually really smart.

Practiced Paganism.

Never got over Tanya and drank a lot after her death.

Got in trouble at work because of it.

Visits little hope after it closed down in 1979.

Wasn’t that much older than Tanya based on his looks.

Became depressed after Tanya died.

Abandoned his car after carving a sun into it and rides a creaky bike.

Took care of Tanya’s grave.

Got along with Anthony before the fire.

He drinks the brand of beer ‘singing nickel’.

Played pool/darts with Anthony before.

If you can think of any hobbies I missed let me know please. I'm trying to write some fics and want a better feel on the characters and would hate to miss something. Please and thank you. Even if it's just one off things the characters have said when Anthony was hallucinating them.

#little hope #dark pictures little hope #anthony clarke #dennis clarke #anne clarke #tanya clarke #james clarke #megan clarke #vince barnes #Vincent Barnes

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charmsandtealeaves · 7 months

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Hmm, 🤔 I’ve always wondered what made you fall in love with Rugby, seeing all your posts, which are very enthusiastic and intense about a game are always fun to see. Which makes me wonder when did this passion for this sport begin? I have no knowledge of any sport except of MMA but that’s about it 😬.

Oh, and also if given the opportunity would you ever try to join the rugby league?

I hope your having a great day…. Or night, not sure haha

This is a brilliant question!

I’ve always grown up surrounded by rugby 🏉 in NZ you’re sort of hard pressed to find someone who doesn’t like watching rugby in some form.

My dad used to play in a social league when I was young (both in the UK and once we immigrated to NZ). So it was a big social thing growing up, watch dad play and then spend the afternoon at the pub.

As dad got older and more injury prone he stopped playing but we’ve always watched games on TV.

Then when I got together with my partner (and ultimately moved in a few months later), he and the lads were very much into the NRL. So it sort of came with the territory, either you got with it or you’d be bored as hell during the season 🤣

But I suppose that’s where the true humour of it is. The boys play the fantasy league (make a team of real life players from the league and put then up against each other- there’s an app it’s a big thing anyway). And I knowing very little, because my family preferred to watch the Super League, chose my first fantasy team based on who I thought had a funny name or a nice looking bum (e.g with a surname like Best he had to end up on the best team 🤣). Which apparently was a solid tactic because I beat 2/3 lads in the house and others who’d been doing it for YEARS. The only one I didn’t beat was K who used literal spreadsheets and follows the league like a religion. (Side note: this was the inspiration for my fic Evans Guide to Quidditch 🤣)

So yeah… it’s sort of tradition at this point. Even thought we don’t all live together anymore we collectively go to at least one live game a year, we get together to watch games on tv and participate in the fantasy league. K even bought my daughter her first supporters jersey this year.

I’ve played a little social touch rugby here and there over the years. But I’m not… physically gifted shall we say 😅 so I think I’ll stick to my passionate yelling at the TV and tumblr about it!

#ask answered #Ray rambles #Ray watches NRL

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necros-writing-stuff · 1 year

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Darius as a dad?

He wants one at most, no matter if its biological or adopted. He doesn't like the how things turned out between Marcus and him, so no sibling rivalries in his home. His kid wants siblings? Tough shit, play with your cousins.

Darius doesn't want to be anything like his dad, so he is open to gentle parenting. He doesn't want to hit his kid. He may snap and yell on occasion when too overwhelmed, especially if its over something that could have caused serious harm to his kid.

He's the dad other parents don't like leaving their kids with because their kids come back knowing some of the most disturbing facts, as Darius has no filter and will tell them graphic details about murder cases he worked on. Sometimes he just tells them facts he thought was cool he read about and then gets really confused as an angry parent yells at him for it over the phone. The kids found it interesting that dolphins are bastards, why is he being yelled at? As you can tell, he's not the most socially competent. Perhaps undiagnosed neurodivergence. But his borderline-awkwardness gets him a lot of laughs.

Of course, this means he's the preferred house to hang out at because kids like his honesty and also his barbecues. He's an introvert at heart though, so they can only come over once a week. At first. He accidently becomes something of a scout leader as a hobby for the gaggle (as he affectionately refers to them as).

His kid and their friends will be able to rope him into playing TTRPPGs. He'll pick orc ranger types every time. If you play too and flirt with his character, he'll implode. Man kidnapped you but can't handle your fictional characters flirting. Of course you two keep it PG around the kids, but once they're gone he's not opposed to the role-play extending to the bedroom. His buddy Dean will also want to come over and play (Dean likes warlocks and bards and makes up the funniest backstories).

He bonds well with his kid's friends, and if one of them comes over upset about something he'll totally offer to beat up the person responsible. Sure, he only has one kid, but this little gaggle that has formed around him are psuedo-kids at this point. Which means, yeah, they unfortunately get his lectures, too. Especially once the teen years hit.

Bad influence friend? No, friend without a hobby. They're coming camping. He knows it works, it worked on Dean. Oh yeah, Dean used to be a little trouble maker till Darius took him under his wing. Dean is the little brother Darius always wanted, but unfortunately he got Marcus instead.

Darius is in control of the TV in the living room. This is not up for debate. If his kid wants to watch something they can fuck off to their room or watch it on a laptop with headphones. But when they're toddlers he'll sit them in his lap and watch animal documentaries with them every morning. He enjoys having family movie nights on Saturdays with a take-away. The choice of movie is based on a rotation, and he'll grumble about picks he doesn't like but he'll respect the rotation rule and watch.

He's the kind of dad who does not get traditionally feminine interests, so to ensure that his kid doesn't only bond with you (if you're into traditionally feminine interests), he'll make damn sure to take them outdoors and teach them to build things with him. He doesn't discourage feminine interests, he just doesn't want them to exclusively like those things because then he'll be left out. His kid could not only pull together a wardrobe out of old pallets from a junkyard, but they could wear the best damn outfit while doing it.

Because he was raised by a misogynist on steroids and gained a lot of those traits himself, prepare for the "I'll shoot your boyfriend if he tries anything," kind of parenting if you have a daughter. Or if she really got into hunting and maybe took up a fighting sport: "You shoot him if he does anything wrong, okay sweetie? I have lawyer money."

Also, he's 100% a "Hey kid, when I'm too old to care for myself and the wife ain't able to do it, just take me outside and put me out of my misery, will you?" guy.

No revealing clothes. No matter the sex or gender of his child. No sex, alcohol or drugs under his roof. They can fuck around and find out when they move out. And if they bring weed home he'll confiscate it (for him and you to smoke lol). This is until they hit 16, in which case alcohol and weed may be had at home, sometimes with friends, so Darius can keep an eye on them and they can learn their limits before they hit the legal drinking age and are able to go out into bars. But he limits it, because he doesn't want his kid to be an alcoholic like him.

Will not go through their things though, even internet history. He'll lecture them on safety, and until proven otherwise, he'll presume they're staying safe. He'll allow 3 fuck ups before he does begin checking, but if you point out that they may be being unsafe because they need x thing, he's open to trying out what you suggest instead.

Will not notice if his kid is neurodivergent, because as previously mentioned he likely is too, so he just thinks it's normal. Especially if you're also neurodivergent.

Doesn't exactly understand mental health issues, and will likely keep dragging his kids out and about and force them to try new activities to keep them busy, cause that's what he does to feel better. He won't do therapy himself, but if the kid asks to go he'll pay for it. Don't expect him to hold himself accountable for anything he did though. At least, not at first. Darius may learn to undo certain ways of thinking he has and become more caring, but he'll never be a Saint.

Oh yeah, under no circumstances will he ever be honest about how you two met. As soon as you know you're having a kid, he'll make you come up with a happy little meet-cute as a smoke screen for the reality of your relationship. Unless he accidently confesses it in a drunken stupor. But he'll deny it if he's pressed afterwards. He may learn to be better in regard to his kid, but he'll never ever admit wrong-doing where you're concerned.

Overall, this is not a responsible parent, but he tries his best.

#spill your guts #anonymous #darius radner #not dol #'nw abduction'#'nw alcoholism'#'nw drug mention'

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inky-snowdrop · 1 year

Text

Mortal Kombat 11: Civil War

A Mortal Kombat Multi-Chapter Fanfiction

Pairings: Mileena/Scorpion || Hanzo Hasashi, Kitana/SubZero || Kuai Liang (implied), Sonya Blade/Erron Black

Rating: M (18+)

(canon-typical violence, implied sexual content, strong language, cannibalism, graphic depictions of blood, gore, and death)

Originally Written In: 2015

Notes: I wrote this a very long time ago, before MK11 came out... This has literally nothing to do with the canon MK11 lore and follows directly after the events of MKX. Basically, if I worked at Netherrealm Studios, this is what MK11 would look like.

<- Prologue || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 ->

When Cassandra Cage walked into her dad's house three days before Christmas, she did not expect to see him jumping on the couch and shouting at the tv. She stepped inside cautiously and stared at the minefield of garbage that lay before her, a jaw dropping amount of pizza and buffalo chicken wings covering the majority. After navigating through most of the garbage, Cassie swiftly took her phone out and took a short video so when she visited him in a mental hospital, she would have proof of his insanity. She uploaded it to Facebook and set her bag right on top of a box of pizza. "Shit!" She exclaimed as she tried to remove the oily pizza from her sports bag.

🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀

Chapter 1 ~ Cassie Cage

It was only then that Johnny Cage turned from his game and saw his daughter. "Well, welcome home kiddo!" Johnny said as he climbed over the couch to give his daughter a hug.

Cassie pushed him away and said, "Seriously dad! I was only gone for two days and the house is already full of a bunch of crap!" Cassie lifted up her shoe to show him the pepsi and buffalo sauce already covering it.

Johnny lightly punched her in the shoulder and said with a laugh, "Its game day, Cassie! On game day, you unlock your inner manwolf and turn your living room into a messy, dirty man cave! And, nobody cares cause it's GAME DAY!" He hollered the last part as he vaulted over the couch to watch the game. Cassie watched with disgust as her father turned back into a teenager. "Come on, watch the game! I think you'll enjoy it!" Johnny said as he pulled Cassie over the couch and dumped her right next to him. Cassie sighed loudly as she curled her feet under her and got out her phone.

Johnny took one look at Cassie's phone and chucked it at the wall. Cassie watched as her life smashed into a million pieces. "Jesus dad!" Cassie lemented as she crossed her arms. "Was that nessaray?!"

Johnny waved a hand in her direction. "I'll get you another phone. Just watch the game!," He said with what sounded a little like a whine in his voice. Cassie thought about it. 'It's not that I don't like football,' She thought to herself. 'It's just as boring as hell.' She let out another sigh.

"Fine dad, but just because you were giving me the sad dad eyes."

Johnny fist pumped the air. "There's a good girl!" He said as he slapped her on the back. Cassie unfolded her arms as she said, "So who do we want to win?"

"We want the Patriots to win." Johnny said without removing his eyes from the tv.

Cassie nodded and felt immediately stupid after saying, "And what color are they wearing?" This time Johnny looked up.

+++

"Omg, do you remember when Jacquinn first joined the force and Jax broke your jaw because he thought you had recruited her?" Cassie asked as she picked another card. The game had finished nearly an hour ago and now, Cassie was whoopin' Johnny's ass in a game of Scat. It was 11 to 4 and her father was not happy about it.

"Of course I do! I still get the migraines!" Johnny grumbled as he picked another card. Cassie knocked hard on the table, just to push her father's buttons a little. It worked perfectly. Johnny through his hand into the air and yelled, "I got to go once and you're already knocking?! Thats bullshit!" Cassie smiled and put her feet on the table.

"When your done complaining, it's your turn," Cassie said as she examined her nails. She put her hand on the table, a queen, a jack, and a king. Johnny sat down and gathered up his cards quickly as Cassie asked, "Let me guess. You have a 2, a jack, and a 8, right?" Johnny froze and looked at her with curiousness in his eyes.

"And how would you know that?" He asked as he picked another card.

Cassie shrugged. "All I did was pre shuffle the cards so you got all the crappy ones and I got all the good ones." Johnny stared at her for a long time and then burst into guffaws. Cassie also giggled like a little girl who fooled her parents… again.

As Johnny struggled to breathe, he choked out, "Next time I go to Vegas, you're coming with!" Cassie snorted. Johnny's phone then began to ring. He picked it up, looked at the caller ID, rolled his eyes, and answered with a, "Hey Sonya! What's up?" Cassie's giggles died on her tongue as she began to put the cards away. 'Why does mom always have to ruin everything I do for fun with dad?' Cassie thought sourly as she put the cards neatly in the middle of the table. She stared at them for a long time, sadness creeping into her chest. She was interrupted by her father pressing the end number and pushing his chair away from the table, actually moving the table with it. Cassie looked up as Johnny started speed cleaning, which consisted of shoving the food under the couch and the crumbs along with it. Cassie got of her chair and walked over to her father saying, "Whoa dad. If we're going to clean, we might as well do it right." She tried to remove one of the pizza boxes from under the couch, but Johnny stopped her.

"Wait. She's… she's coming HERE," Cassie asked as she began to pick up the empty bottle of Pepsi on the floor.

"Your mother is coming in 15 minutes to take us... somewhere," Johnny said as continued to clean. Cassie's heart almost stopped and she got sick feeling in her stomach.

Johnny nodded as he said, "Go get changed." Cassie charged through the living room to the winding, iron staircase and took two steps at a time to the top. She slammed into her door, almost taking it clean of it's hinges. Her room was painted a sky blue color and was pretty small considering Johnny Cage lived in a mansion. She ripped open her closet and grabbed her sergeant uniform. She changed out her yoga pants and white sweatshirt into the more uncomfortable grey uniform, which she hadn't worn since Shinnok. It was a pretty tight fit, but she got it on after lots of tugging on her underside. She looked at herself in the mirror and found herself smiling. 'An adventure,' she thought as she pulled on her kombat boots and yellow biker gloves. She grabbed her sunglasses and ran back to the iron stairs and slid down the railing. Her father was still cleaning like a madman, pushing things under couch and under the rug. " The living room looks almost okay," Cassie said as she picked up an empty pizza box and threw it in the trash. Johnny looked up and pushed the broom into her hands. "Finish 'cleaning' while I go change," Johnny called as he ran up the stairs towards his bedroom. "Okay dad," Cassie said quietly as she swept the remainder of the food under the couch. The living room looked pretty good, considering the pigsta it was earlier. She looked out the glass sliding doors, into the countryside. 'So peaceful,' She thought as she closed her eyes and leaned on the broom. The peace was shattered by a knock on the door.

🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦

🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 11 #cassie cage #johnny cage #mileena #mortal kombat fanfiction #mortal kombat fanfic #mortal kombat 11 fanfiction #mortal kombat 11 fanfic #cassie cage fanfiction #cassie cage fanfic #johnny cage fanfiction #johnny cage fanfic #mileena fanfiction #mileena fanfic #Mortal Kombat 11: Civil War #fanfiction #fanfic

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fionaosmanarchive · 1 year

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Aslıhan Malbora | She/Her | Cis Woman | Have you met Fiona Osman yet? They’re the 27 year old front desk worker at a women's health clinic that lives around Swindelbrook Street Apartments. I think they’ve lived in Seattle for eleven years. From what I’ve heard, they’re vivacious but they can also be imprudent if you get on their bad side. When I think of them, I usually think of God Save Our Young Blood by BØRNS.

BASICS.

Full Name: Fiona Osman Nickname(s): Fi Gender: Cis woman (she/her) Sexuality: Bisexual Birthday: Tba (27) Religion: None Hometown: Presque Isle, Maine Current Residence: Swindelbrook St. Apartments Occupation: Front desk worker at a women’s health clinic Education: Associate’s degree Languages: English TL;DR: Moved to Seattle with her family from northern Maine when she was 16, weird relationship with her parents, got her associate's degree but doesn't know what she wants to do, currently working the front desk at a women's health clinic and not really bothering to find any direction in life. Goes for instant gratification over delayed satisfaction. Parties too much and respects herself too little

FAMILY.

Mother: Cemile Osman (59) Father: Emir Osman (68) Sibling(s): Max Osman (brother, 30) Pets: A 3-year-old sugar glider named Jenkins

PERSONALITY.

Pos. Traits: Energetic, risk-taker, gregarious, creative, affectionate Neg. Traits: Flaky, reckless, impulsive, imprudent, likes to talk shit Likes: Taking baths, clubbing, horror movies that are actually scary, the TV show Rake, staying in hotels, airports, bike riding, rollercoasters, slutty lingerie, sunbathing, haunted houses, aesthetic lighting, candles, mermaids, being in the woods, collecting sea glass, being wine drunk, the comment section on Tiktok Dislikes: Routine, sports, hot people being fake humble, ASMR videos, superhero movies, cooking, not immediately being good at things, basic fashion, the desert

BACKGROUND.

**trigger warnings for toxic parenting

Born in the town of Presque Isle, one of the northermost cities in Maine, Fiona grew up in the dark and the cold and surrounded by nature

She spent a lot of her time exploring the abundant forests and rivers and ravines of Aroostook County as a kid, both with friends and by herself. She was chronically coming home with scrapes and bruises; it was nearly tradition at her grammar schools that at least once per year Fiona Osman would end up in a cast that everyone signed

She didn’t have bad parents in the way some of her friends had bad parents – in fact, her parents weren’t really bad at all on the surface. Her mom was a third-grade teacher at one of the local elementary schools and her dad was head of HR at a bank. They were nice people and, for the most part, chill parents. Her friends always liked coming to her house because no one was yelling at them for making a mess and often her mom or dad, whoever was home, was even willing to do projects with them and take them fun places or out hiking

The problem with Fiona’s parents was that her dad had another side, and it wasn’t a nice one. Usually a pleasant personality to be around, when he got in moods the best thing to do was steer clear, which Fiona was pretty good at doing but her older brother was not. She witnessed a million fights between them that she typically tried to stay out of, but it always made her feel sick to see it and to feel, on her end, that their dad was being a dick. One of the worst parts of it was that their mom always, without fail, took their dad’s side – something Fiona thinks in retrospect was because she was afraid of him turning it on her

It created a lot of deep-seated issues. Her older brother began seeing their dad only for his bad side, whereas Fiona started seeing him as two different people: the fun dad who watched movies with her and took her on outings and showed her all his favorite music, and the man with an irrational temper who couldn’t be talked out of his bad moods. Not knowing which of them she would get each day and having that unreliability in a parent she was sometimes scared of gave her some trauma she’s never really explored

At sixteen, Fiona’s grandma in Seattle broke her hip and didn’t recover well enough to be able to get back to taking care of her husband whose dementia had been growing more severe over the last few months. Her dad went out there to help out for about a month before the decision was made that the whole family would be uprooting and moving across the country so they could be nearby. This was, of course, the worst possible news to Fiona and her brother, who had friends and a life in Presque Isle

Fiona adjusted okay – she’d always been social and made friends relatively easily, and she understood on a logical level why they had to move, but it didn’t stop it from being hard going to a brand new high school on the other side of the country. It was even worse for her brother, who was a senior at that point with not only a close friend group but a girlfriend he was in love with. He held it against their dad, who – with the added stress of his parents’ situation on top of his penchant for taking his anger out on his loved ones – didn’t handle the whole thing very well and was not quite understanding or compassionate about it the way he should have been. In private their mom sometimes sympathized with them, but she never stood up to defend them when Fiona or her brother got into it with their dad

As she’s gotten older, Fiona’s grown further from her parents. Her mom is significantly less bright and happy than she used to be when the kids were little and her dad has remained the same as he always was

Her grandpa passed about five years ago and her grandma just last year, but they never moved back to Maine

After high school, Fiona went to community college and received her Associate’s degree simply because she wasn’t really sure what else to do and didn’t have the desire to go to a regular university like most of the people at her school. Following that, she wound up working the front desk at a dentist’s office for a while before deciding it was draining her soul of life and found a job doing front desk work at a women’s health clinic, which at least felt like she was part of a good cause

She had a couple boyfriends in high school and her first girlfriend in community college, but she tends to sleep around mostly with no urgent desire to be in a relationship until she finds someone who really gets her excited

HEADCANONS.

used to have all her old casts from grammar school that were signed by her classmates but they got lost in the move to seattle

runs a popular stan account on twitter for some band i haven't decided on yet

needs a lot of external validation and tries to fulfill that by sleeping with people. depending on the situation, she's the kind of person who would ditch her friends for someone giving her attention if she was feeling especially insecure

will play devil's advocate just to get a rise out of people

has a diary she writes in almost every night

keeps a little box of memories like receipts from first dates, pictures, jewelry, etc

CURRENT CONNECTIONS.

tba

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

a few besties

roomate(s)

people she's known since high school if they're around the same age

frenemies/only friends when they're drunk vibe

fwb, hookups, exes, etc

apartment neighbors/people she's annoyed by being loud and coming home late

coworker's at the women's health clinic

someone who's just a rly bad person for her to be around bc they fuel each other's recklessness

any connection through her older brother

someone she's friends with through stan twitter (we can figure out what fandom

#sewa.intro #toxic parenting tw

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heroicvilliansometimes · 2 years

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Camp Easy pt1

1978 Summer Camp Au

“WHY CAN’T YOU JUST DO THIS ONE THING FOR ME HUH JOHN”

“HOW MANY TIMES WILL ME COVERING FOR YOUR ASS KEEP BEING A “ONE THING” HUH NANCY” hearing as the argument between the two adults continued Hunter grabbed the pillow he was using and wrapped it around his head, covering his ears. Hoping that would help tune out the yelling he would grow to be deeply mistaken

“Why me” he sighed out, lifting himself up so as to rest on his elbows, now fully awake, Hunter attempted to collect his thoughts on the situation that seem to be occurring at this very moment.

“What time is it” he questioned, glancing at the clock he saw 5:00 A.M flash on his digital clock in big red font then groaned

“The sun isn’t even up what could they be possibly arguing about now.” Pulling the blanket off his form Hunter took one step on the ground and then immediately pulled his legs back on the bed. His mind not expecting the floor to be this cold he reached toward his bed stand and pulled a pair of socks out of the drawer. Now being fully prepped for the ground the fourteen year old took his feet off the bed, got up, and headed out the door of his bedroom. Making his way to the kitchen Hunter could hear his parents finishing up on their argument, ending with his mom storming to her room and his dad plopping himself on the couch.

“Hey sport” his dad greeted, not expecting to be acknowledged the teen jumped which in turn spooked his dad

“Hey kid relax it’s just me” his dad said, a clear nervous expression on his face. However instead of responding Hunter merely dipped his head and returned to scrounging for breakfast.

“Oh so you’re just going to ignore me too now huh” his dad mumbled, but instead of waiting for a response the man just begrudgingly turned the TV on, not even caring what was on. As minutes passed both males just continued to mind their business until something interesting happened on the TV that caught Hunter’s attention.

“You yes you do you have a kid or know a family that have a kid that wishes to stay active during the summer well come on down to Easy Camp. A camp made specifically for kids all over America wishing to have an outlet for their interest or meet kids who are just like them.” Perking up at the informercial the teen quickly searched for a notepad to write as much information about the camp as possible. Sensing he was being watched Hunter turned too see his dad glaring at him from the living room

“What dad”

“You are not going to that camp.” Almost as soon as he said that Hunter immediately began to beg for reasons for why he couldn’t

“It could be a scam”

“Well I wrote the number down let’s just call them and clarify” Hunter countered

“It’s going to be too expensive”

“They said everything was free as long as we signed the waiver form” the teen refuted. Seeing as his father tried to find more reasons to argue with him Hunter grew to be more confident in his triumphant until his father said the ultimate shut down

“BECAUSE I SAID SO” he shouted at him, realizing he had no chance of going Hunter quickly closed his mouth

“I’m sorry it’s just a summer camp in Toccoa Georgia is not someplace I want you to be in especially since it’s a 10 hour drive from here. I mean what kind of parent would I be if I didn’t know what my child was doing for the entire summer.” Grumbling the teen stood, bowl in hand, and headed for the sink

“Why is it you only remember to be a parent whenever I asked you for something” he grumbled under his breath,

“What did you just say to me” his father asked, evident anger in his tone. Scared at his question the teenager quickly apologized for his words only for it to fall on deaf ears

“I’ll teach you a thing or too about respect” yelping as his father grabbed his arm roughly the teen begged and cried for father to let him go. Going as far as to even say he wouldn’t mention the name of the summer camp ever again if meant escaping punishment. However none of that meant anything as he was pulled into the room and thrown roughly on the ground. Hearing the door slam shut and the lock click Hunter heard his father shout that he wouldn’t be allowed to leave until dinner and how that gave him a lot of time to think about his behavior.

“Well at least he didn’t grab his belt” the teen muttered, wiping falling tears from his cheek with the balled up piece of paper in his hand.

“Wait” he thought, opening the paper he soon came to realize he had all the information needed about the camp all he really required was a signature and a ride. So calling the number he pretended to be his father saying how he was signing his son up for this camp and how he couldn’t wait to get there.

“Alright sir all we need now is for you to show up with your child to the bus area, sign the waiver forms, and the rest is smooth sailing from their” covering the phone so they wouldn’t hear his excitement Hunter swiftly pulled the phone back to his ear and confirmed his arrival. Eventually hanging up Hunter landed on his bed, rolling around in pure happiness, however he soon realized he needed an adult with him if he wanted to actually go. Sitting there thinking for hours how, the teen’s thought process was interrupted when he heard his mom shout dinner time. Getting up Hunter could hear his door being unlocked then as he watched it open his father stood there a neutral look on his face.

“Have you learned your lesson or do you want to have dinner in your room” nodding his head yes Hunter could see the pleased look grow on his father face as he gestured for him to follow. Sitting down in the dinning area the family sat quietly as they ate the spaghetti that was made. Eventually the silence was broken by Hunter’s mother as she asked him this

“Hunter I need you to drop this mail off to Mr Harbor”

“Again”

“Yes they keep dropping his mail at our house for some reason and it’s really starting to get on my nerves. Tomorrow I’m going to call the mail delivery service and tell them to stop that” his mom said. Reluctantly agreeing the male finished his plate, accepted the envelopes, and headed straight for the front door. Walking past a couple houses he soon reached the forty-eight year old’s house

“Mr Harbor I have your mail……again” he said while knocking. Waiting for the older male to show up the young male jumped when the door abruptly opened revealing a disheveled, cigarette smelling, old man. Not getting a response the man merely stuck his hand out for the mail

“Here” Hunter nervously stated, watching as the man snatched the envelopes then slam the door in his face the teen huffed commenting on how his house smelled like rat piss anyway.

“Stupid crabby adult” stuffing his hands in his pockets the teen walked backed to his house however stopped at his door when he came to a realization

“Adult…..Mr Harbor is an adult…..THATS IT” turning and running back to the nasty smelling house the teen excitedly banged on the door. This time instead of jumping when the door abruptly slammed open the teen merely smiled at the face of the angry looking man.

“I need your help” confused when the man didn’t say anything Hunter began pleading to him about how he needed a ride to a camp

“So that’s why need you to be there-” shutting up when the man placed his hand up Hunter quickly came to realize that what he said fell on deaf ears, literally. Watching as the man pointed to ears then shook his head no the teen became amazed at the new fact

“Wait you’re deaf” he asked, not getting a response the teen mentally slapped himself for asking

“Ok hold on- can…can I come in” not waiting for an answer Hunter went into the man’s house, to the confusion of Mr Harbor, and began looking for something to write with and on.

“Here read this” handing the man the paper Mr Harbor stood there reading then in a quick moment began to chuckle at the words. Seeing as the man turned the paper around then grabbed the pen to write something Hunter wondered what he could be writing. Being handed the paper Hunter read out what it said

“Running away I see” the paper said, immediately replying with “No just escaping for a quick moment” below the last statement then handing back to the older man Hunter watched the man go into a fit of laughter before writing something down and handing the paper back.

“I was just like you once an ignorant teen just trying to catch a break from my old man” growing angry at the accusation that he was just a teen going through a rebellious phase Hunter wrote back

“If you’re not going to help me just say that” seeing as the man smiled at his words the teen sighed then thought

“Adults will never understand.” Flipping the paper back to have more writing space Mr Harbor wrote then handed the paper back saying

“I’ll help only to teach you a lesson.”

(Bonus)

After two hours of conversation Hunter momentarily thought for a moment then wrote down

“If you’re deaf how did you hear me at the door” getting a “I saw you through my blinds” as a reply the teen shook his head yes indicating he understood

“Ok.”

#fanfiction #1978 #summer camp #summer camp au #easy company #band of brothers

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casspurrjoybell-26 · 1 month

Text

💖Sweet Revenge💖 - Chapter 11

*Warning Adult Content*

Back in my tiny apartment, I let out a sigh of frustration and regret and bang my head against the door I just slammed shut at my back.

"Fucking Drama Queen," I berate myself under my breath.

"You couldn't hold it together for five fucking minutes? Shit."

Now I've got a raging hard-on and Blake thinks I'm some kind of mental case.

At least one of those things I can deal with.

In the bathroom, I turn on the shower and shed my clothes.

Beneath the hot spray, I stroke myself off with swift efficiency, gasping and leaning heavily on the wall as I come with an intensity I haven't felt in months.

My legs feel weak and I slide to the floor, letting the hot water beat against my back while I rest my head on my raised knees.

Great, now I'm acting like a mental case, too.

I shouldn't have let Blake kiss me, no matter how much I wanted him to.

He'd wanted it just as bad and clearly would have taken it further if I'd let him but it wasn't his reaction that alarmed me... it was mine.

It's true it'd been a while but I'm no virgin and it's not like I don't take care of my own needs and yet I almost came in my pants from that kiss alone.

Worse, now that I've tasted what Blake has to offer, I don't think I'll ever stop wanting more.

Just when I thought I'd finally left the past behind me, too.

I'd even stopped dreaming about it.

~♡~

Chad's fingers left dark bruises on my face where he'd grabbed me.

When I'd got home that night, my Dad looked away from his sports program long enough to notice.

"What the fuck happened to you?" he'd asked.

"Got in a fight," I'd said.

That answer seemed to please him.

Fighting was manly, so it had his approval.

I like to think if my Mom was still around she might have pressed for more, might even have scolded me or given me a lecture or something but she was in Europe somewhere with a wealthier, handsomer man than my father.

She'd been too young when she had me and domesticity hadn't agreed with her.

I didn't blame her, really.

My Grandma told me my dad used to be 'sweet as apple cider' when he was young and in love with my mom.

I guess time hadn't been kind to his body or his soul and his apple cider had turned to vinegar.

I made chicken and pasta that night.

The extent of my Dad's talent in the kitchen was the ability to operate the microwave, so the cooking fell to me.

My Dad appreciated that at least, though he always found a way to include a barb in his complements... tiny razors hidden in something sweet.

I served him his dinner where he sat in front of the TV. I'd have preferred to eat at the table, like a normal family but he didn't want to miss whatever was happening in whatever gladiatorial game he was watching.

So I sat at the other end of the couch and pretended I was interested too.

"Hmm, this is good," he said, mopping cream sauce up with a piece of chicken.

"This a recipe?" I shook my head.

"Not really. Just something I made up."

"Huh?" he grunted.

"You'll make someone a fine wife someday."

Out of someone else's mouth, maybe that would have been a funny, lighthearted joke... a little jab meant more as a compliment than anything else.

From him, it sounded ugly and mean-spirited and I knew he didn't mean it in a good way.

I stood and snatched his plate from his hands and some pasta fell in his lap.

"Fuckin' hell, boy. What the fuck are you doin'?" he yelled.

I took his plate and mine and dumped them... plates, forks and all... in the trash.

"What the fuck, are you wastin' good food for?"

He was on his feet now, face red with fury.

"You think I'm made'a money? I work hard for that shit."

I dashed up the stairs to my room and locked myself in.

From the living room below I heard him continue to rant and curse for a minute but he quickly ran out of steam.

"Now what the fuck 'm I s'posed to eat?" he grumbled and then he was quiet, probably having answered his own question with another beer and settled back in front of the TV.

I cried.... quietly, of course, so he wouldn't hear me... for a long time.

I cried for my broken heart and my broken family and my stupid little broken dream of making something worth loving... or of being something worth loving.

I guess I thought those were the same thing.

~♡~

'Sweet Revenge' is closed on Sundays.

Not because I'm religious but because even I need a day off and it's the quietest day of the week.

I'm roused by a loud rapping on the door and drag myself from bed with a groan.

It's not coming from downstairs, I realize.

It's coming from the door of my apartment.

It has an outside access at the top of a flight of wooden stairs around the back of the shop but most people don't realize it's a residence unless they know me or they've looked it up.

I rub the sleep from my face and run my hands through my hair.

I didn't sleep well and I'm hoping whoever's out there will give up and go away.

They don't and continue to knock with increasing insistence, until I'm not sure whether to be more worried for the door or their hand.

I decide to reward their impatience by not bothering to get dressed.

If it's the Jehovah's Witnesses, they're in for a treat. It's not, though.

It's Blake and his eyes go straight down while his brows go up.

At least I don't sleep nude but my briefs suddenly feel very small indeed.

"Holy shit," he says.

"Jesus Christ," I say at the same time and try to slam the door in his face but he's too fast and catches it.

"Wait, Aaron. I need to talk to you," he says.

"Please?"

I briefly consider which would be more painful... paying his hospital bill if I slam his fingers in the door or letting him in my apartment while I'm dressed in my underwear and listening to what he has to say.

"Fine," I let go of the door and step back.

"What?"

"I... I didn't like how things ended last night," he says.

Yeah, he's not alone there.

"And I... I know you don't want to hear this but... I really like you."

Actually, I don't hate hearing it.

He draws a deep breath and finally spits it out.

"And . . . I'm really worried about you."

Ah, fuck.

Time to set the record straight.

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pikku-peruna · 3 months

Text

I wish I had never been born

I wish I had never been born because my life has never been good

When I was born my parents weren't married but they wanted to separate, so I became a ward of the state (Florida) and my dad fought 9 months in court for my custody- while it was considered the norm for mothers to always get full/most custody.

My dad got full custody though! Because that's just how bad my mother was. (I can't say how she is now, but from what I've heard she hasn't gotten any better)

Then we lived in Florida for awhile, it was normal-ish. I watched my dad get arrested when my mom refused to give me back after a custody visit because surely it was the guy with full custody who was in the wrong (fucking idiot cops) -I saw my mother snort a line of cocaine the second he was dragged out in handcuffs too. I was 4, that crackhouse is most of my memories from that age because that's how bad it was. My dad eventually found a woman online and we packed our shit and left for Texas.

There we lived in a redneck's smoke-filled chihuahua-shit-covered dump of a house with an abused green macaw that my dad tried so hard to befriend but he never got the chance to with all the smoke that poor bird was breathing in.

Then my dad and my now step mom found a shitty rental house and moved us and my step brother and sister into it. it wasn't really that good. We made do with what we had though. We couldn't go out to play with other kids so we played with ourselves in the backyard and in our "play room" with our toys and rarely watched TV. We couldn't afford videogames anyway. We had a Wii for a bit, and boy we played the shit out of it- That Play-Room smelled like a highschool football gym locker room because we only ever played Wii Sports Resort. Those were the good days- what I consider to be "The Golden Days"

Then school started. -And for some reason I was never able to handle it. I hated it. (I still hate it) Even as a 5yr old I would try to escape school and i remember trying to open the big front doors until i was left as a crying mess on the floor because I didn't want to be without my dad. I remember- that every year I would have issues. We'd move schools around alot because of my parents' work and how badly i was behaving. I was 5! 6! 7!

When I was about to start 3rd grade my babushka got cancer, and it never really hit me what that meant until it was too late. Halfway through the school-year we moved into a biiig house! (2 stories, 3.5 bathrooms, HOA neighborhood but we took what we could get) And us kids were so happy! It wasn't the house we wanted but it was what we got and we were happy- Plus my littlest sister had been born so there were 4 kids now. Then babushka died. And I had to leave a school that had all my friends and everyone I knew- and go to a new school the fucking DAY I learned that she had died. I was a wreck. I didn't cry though- my dad would yell at me for crying, so i learned to never cry- crying was weakness- my dad would give me something to cry about if i cried- crying was for little bitches.

So I didn't make any friends that year... Or the year after that... because i was in the Gifted and Talented (GT) program- so i was a "nerd" and a "smart kid" and I should've been friends with those kids, right? Well I wasn't, because I was the dumb one, because I didn't watch TV or play videogames and because i never played outside and i never went to parks or anything, how can you when your dad succumbs to the bottle and your step mom works her ass off as a nurse?

Then the dam broke- and my dad got divorced from my step-mom (i never even knew they were married)- and I had to go, because I was never her kid.

I never the night it happened too. It wasn't something where us kids were sat down and told gently- it was violent, it was scary, and it hurt more than anything. To be 8 years old, watching your own father take his car and peel out of the driveway while your step mother (the women I had grown to love over so many years of being scared to let her into my heart after losing so much) takes her three kids and leaves you in the driveway. cold. Alone.

She left me alone like that for about an hour, then she finally came back for me and took us to a neighbor's house. I didn't even know there were other kids in our neighborhood because we were never allowed out to play. I felt like I didn't belong. I didn't belong- and I don't think I ever did. (When we would go to "family's" houses it would always be my step mom's family, never my family- because they were all in Russia or scattered around the USA- or dead... and I never could relate to anybody, they were always strangers to me, and I was always scared)

I don't remember when my dad came back for me, but he did- and when he did I had to leave my siblings. And I didn't see them again for 7 years- I didn't even recognize them. They had been hurt, but their wounds were physical- from their mother's newest ex husband (not my dad)- their wounds would heal. My wounds were the words my dad would tell me. So much hate, so much anger, so much sorrow- anytime i made a mistake or fell into a bad habit it was all my fault, and then he would say he was sorry, that he would never say it again. I learned to just say ok, to say what he wanted to hear just so he'd leave me alone. All I wanted was to be left alone again, but I couldn't even have that. My sister would come over every so often because of custody dates. I hated her. She got to see the good side of my dad, my dad treated her so much better than me, she didn't have to know how badly my dad wanted to kill himself, how sad he was, she never heard how much of a failure she was when she got a bad grade or when she didn't notice the dog had to use the bathroom, but she got to see her sister, 7 years older than her- be used as the example of 'what not to do'

I hated her for 7 years because she had everything I wanted, and I still hold resentment towards her because she still has everything I want- everything I can't have.

eventually me and my dad found a rhythm, and we started to get along- then we became thick as thieves! We were inseparable! it was Pikku and Pikku's Dad against the world! All I had to do was tell him what he wanted to hear! All I had to do was lie about my dad at school- or my grades- or what I wanted for my birthday... (All I had to do was give everything up for him- All I had to do was throw everything away for him...)

At the end of 8th grade year I finally got to see my family again. As a whole- because my Dad and my Step Mom became friends again. It wasn't perfect, but it worked- but I had changed (i still have trouble with it) and I had tried to kill myself 4 times over those 7 years they were angry at each other. At school I was doing good at everything but math, because I've always been terrible at math (the numbers never made sense, the formulas always felt like a waste of time)- but I got an opportunity- the ability to do highschool AND college at the SAME TIME and finish college early!!

So I told my dad about it, and he was so happy! And it made me happy- because he would be proud of me! He would brag to the neighbors about how smart his daughter was! he would tell his works friends how he loved his daughter! No more of him complaining about me! he would finally love me! So I threw away my dreams of joining the Creative Media/Digital Art Academy- even after I got accepted to it... (It hurt to call the school and tell them I wouldn't be going...) But! I got accepted into College! I passed my entry exams! I did it! My step mom was proud of me... My dad? My dad wanted more... it wasn't enough- it wasn't enough I had to do more- I had to do more... There was nothing else to do... I had to realized that I threw everything away.

I leapt into a black-hole expecting a new world on the other side, just to be stuck in a black void of nothingness. I dreamt up this persona of my father to nurture that small hurt child in my heart- but it was never true. He was never that person. He'll never be that person.

I'm still going to College, I'm still living with my dad- now he has a girlfriend with kids (I hate them all, I have no reason to like them, they only cause issues and I don't see how he loves them like he does)

I don't know what's next for me

I'm scared

And I wish I had never been born

#personal rant #pikku rants

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despair-to-future-arcs · 6 months

Note

Everyone failed you Masaru. The ones who were supposed to help ended up stopped by others.

*Walk into a living room, standing at a TV and lounge chair*

...This is where my dad usually sits at and when I watch cartoons. Most of the time when he's drunk, he usually is yelling and is angry.

So he's like that, but what happens when he isn't drunk?

It's... hard to imagine when he isn't but mostly he tends to be asleep or not around; I never seen him happy or saw me perform at cultural festivals.

So your dad never saw any of you performing on sports days?

Not really... I mean, I tend to get first place or with lots of medals but he never care at all, I even saw other families supporting their kids despite not getting first place... I always thought that if I got first place then he might have notice but never did.

It... was always like that with him so I guess I just try to make it where people wanted me around...to appreciate me when I won.

...I see.

...

#dr #danganronpa #dtfa #despair to future arc #fs:rw #future side: re write #udg #danganronpa another episode: ultra despair girls #dr:thh #danganronpa: trigger happy havoc #masaru daimon #komaru naegi #otoha yasuda #sunako inoue #mayumi tamon #fs ep 7

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tommyspeakycap · 3 years

Note

omgg write something about playing or braiding jack’s hair

oh em gee I love this !!!!! I loved his hair braid too omg

Jack had a very specific barber he liked to go to to get the same quality haircut he always got. He trusted that specific barber and his appointments were always made in advance to absolutely ensure he could get it done the way he liked by whom he liked at the right time so it never got overgrown or hard to manage. Jack was very specific about his hair and about keeping it the way he liked it to be. It was part of his image, part of him really. The Brummie boy hated when anyone else touched it. Be that joking team members giving his head a teasing push or his dad ruffling his hair each time he walks in the door, it irks the living daylights right out of him.

So it seems as though it’s Jack’s own personal nightmare now the barbers are shut with absolutely no sign of opening up for at least another month and Jack can’t seem to take one minute more of training with his hair getting all up in his eyes, dropping into his face and blowing wildly in Birmingham wind even with a headband in. It is driving him absolutely insane. It’s all he can think of in this moment.

And that is because he currently has your fingers tangled in it completely absentmindedly as he lays in between with your legs with his legs stretched out along the L section of the L shaped couch. Your eyes are fully focussed on the storyline evolving throughout an old episode of Greys Anatomy. Jack’s arms are around your torso as his head rests comfortably on your lower stomach with his eyes peacefully shut. He would usually engage in the TV with you, but the preseason after an unexpected break that had him doing less exercise than he definitely should have been doing had him absolutely shattered.

It was rare for even you to touch the locks he took so laughably serious, but it felt like the most soothing experience he’d maybe ever had to feel the gentility of your finger massaging over his scalp in the most relaxing manner he’d ever known. Even his sports massages after long matches weren’t this relaxing.

“Mmmhm, feels so good.” He murmurs, his voice ticking your stomach as he speaks against it, the sigh that leaves him making you giggle in response. “So annoyin’ in training.” He adds tiredly, but not lacking in the obvious irritation he feels towards it. Jack tends to feel a lot and often, and even seemingly small things like his hair getting in the way of his play was unimaginably irritating for him.

“I could cut it?” You suggest.

“Yeah,” he snorts, “And end up like the poor dog? I’ll pass love.”

“Aw come on! It wasn’t that bad.” You retort

“He looked like a street rat with curls, sweetheart.” He laughs, despite the disappointment he feels for your hands leaving his hair for the first time since he lay down tonight.

“Cheek.”

“Sorry baby.” He lulls, finally looking up at you for the first time, lifting his face to offer you a smile that strained him. Holding his head up like that was too much for his already tired muscles, so he’s quickly laying his head back to its resting place. You can’t think of anything else to retort with, knowing full and well the incredibly poor state of affairs that occurred in your household three weeks into Lockdown 1 after you attempted to give the dog a haircut out of pure boredom and lack of open dog grooming services. The state of affairs being Jack crawling to the bathroom on his knees and one hand with the other hand holding onto his crotch because he was trying so hard not to wet himself from laughing at the poor pup who looked so confused that his dad hadn’t been able to greet him as normal when he returned from the weekly food shop.

Jack very nearly did piss on your good cream carpet that day, so it was fair for him to not trust your barber skills either. Especially being the way he is about his hair.

“You know the old episodes make me miss Derek.” You announce after a moment of only the television speaking between the two of you.

“He the one with the hair?” Jack mumbles. You snort a laugh.

“They’ve all got hair, Jack. Go on, say it then?”

“Fine,” he huffs indignantly, “The one with the good hair.”

Your giggle makes his heart erupt into butterflies that dance through his stomach and chest just like it does every single time he gets to be lucky enough to hear it. Jack doesn’t like to admit when others have hair he likes. He prefers to live in a world where his hairstyle is simply the best, and truly he usually does. He tends to live in his own world anyway. The world where his hair is fantastic, he gets to do what he loves for a living and come home to you each and every day. That’s his world and fucking hell does he love that world.

In reality though, part of that world is that however fictional Derek Shepherd may be, his hair is fantastic and always looks rather immaculate. Something Jack can’t quite relate to at this current moment in time. “You know this episode is kinda about his hair,” you note softly, hands smoothing back over your boyfriends brown locks. He knows by the tone of your voice that you’re going to go into more detail about the episode currently playing through on Amazon Prime TV. Some people may well have been annoyed listening to their girlfriends recounting entire episodes of TV shows that they weren’t exactly inclined to watch, but Jack was not one of those men. He didn’t care what you were talking about, just the sound of you talking was enough to make him listen intently. He loved to hear you talk, and if that was the only thing that he ever got to hear for the rest of his life then he’d still be happy.

“They adopted a little girl and he hasn’t quite figured her hair out yet but everyone’s shocked ‘cause his hairs pretty good. Like you, a little. You got good hair, just haven’t learned to manage it yet eh?” You explain, weaving your fingers in and out of those stands of hair that make him hum in both understanding and enjoyment. He isn’t sure what you’re doing, but the weaving of stands, pads of your fingers dancing over his scalp carefully, softly feels like what he might imagine heaven to be. “Yeah?” He asks, “And what does he do then?” His voice is filled with genuine interest for what you were saying. It was the first time you’d ever known that in a relationship. He heard you snigger softly to yourself. “He learns from someone who knows a bit more about hair than he does.” You state pointedly, prompting him to roll his eyes even if you can’t see him.

“I’m not letting you cut my hair, (y/n). Not happening, I’m sor-“

“Alright, Jack. I bloody know! That’s not what I meant.” You grumble. Jack can immediately imagine your disgruntled pout already, with those irritated narrowed eyes and the playful scrunch of your nose. “Sorry.” Every time he sees that look on you, he moves to kiss that furrow out of your nose. It makes his heart smile each and every time he sees it. You are simultaneously the most beautiful, more adorable and hottest woman he has ever laid his eyes on. “Sorry baby,” he reiterated, “Go on.”

“I could braid it for you?”

That earns a belly laugh from him that reverberates through your body, jostling with the force of his whole body laughter. “So you will,” he bellows in breaks between the ever comedic gasping from breath after each loud laugh. “Not a chance.”

He pushes himself up to sit back on his knees, trapping your legs between his as he looks down at you with a huge grin still stretching his lips and creasing his eyes, yet they still sparkle in adoration for you. “Oh yeah?” You muse with a giggle to follow despite the firm attempt to seal it behind clenched lips. The giggle sets those dimples into your cheeks, his eyes just drinking you up as you lounge back on the huge couch there in front of him, sinking back into the pillows just like he had been sinking against you in comfort for hours only moments ago. “Yeah.” He repeats firmly, the playful jest of his words not lost on your ears as he leans forward.

With the emission of only a small, surprised yelp from you that turns the head of the dog in his bed for only a moment, Jack has grabbed your legs to tug you down so you were laying flat on your back on the L of the sofa. He leans over you, hands and strong arms keeping him above you with ease. “Realllly?” You tease, one eyebrow quirked. Jack loves it when you do that, mostly because he can’t and he finds it beautifully funny.

Your hands reach up to his face, cupping over the beard on his cheeks to bring his face down to peck his lips before letting him press back up like a simple press up over your body. This was a common occurrence between the pair of you and Jack had always loved to show off. “Not cuttin’ about with a braid in my hair baby, sorry.”

He dips down for another kiss and you break out another giggle that parts your lips from his. “You already are, bub.”

“Ya what?” He pops straight up, sitting again back on his knees. “Not falling over your face now eh?” You taunt with a cheeky grin that makes him furrow his brows. Jack removed his hands from beside you to run one after the other over the top of his hair, a weird mix of a grin and disbelief washing over his face. Your sweetheart smile warms his heart as you lay there looking up at him with tired eyes and a lazy smile, cheeks flushed and one of his old cotton shirts keeping you warm long after his body raises from yours.

“Wait there!” He yells, bounding off the couch to all but leap through the living room until he reaches the mirror in the hall just outside the door. “Babe!” He cheers through the house, appearing back in the doorway of the room. “Nah it’s kinda cool, you fuckin’ smashed that!” You sit up and turn around towards him with your hand covering your mouth in a giggle that makes him stride forward and tug your hand away so he can see that beautiful smile. He jumps back again. “And look; stays in when I move around like-”

An immediate howl of laughter breaks out of your mouth with your head tipped back in hysterics as you watch him run on the spot, jump on the spot and then shake his head around like your puppy when he had a cone on his head. You laugh so hard your laughter looses its noise, simply existing as a elongated wheeze and a sudden gasp for desperate air to aid and allow for only more laughter. “Why you laughing for?” He yells, his words split by his own laughter as he tugs you to your feet, standing taller than him when your on your feet on the couch. Jack wraps one arm around your waist and moves the other down to the bend of your knees to sweep your legs from beneath you, perching you on the edge of the back of the couch.

“It,” kiss, “is,” kiss, “perfect.” Kiss.

“Just like you, baby.” He rumbles lowly, “Perfect just like my girl. Gonna wear it to training. Keep hair out my face, remind me of you, perfect.” He just keeps talking, keeps praising you between kisses while he brings you closer and closer to him until you can wrap your legs around him. Locked in place, he takes your face in his hands.

“So you’ll let me braid it again?” You chime, eyes lighting up. Jack chuckles, thumbs smoothing over your cheeks with a kiss pressed to the tip of your nose. “Course baby. Every day.”

True to his word Jack Grealish is. Every night he comes home from his training, he’s laying on the couch letting you massage the days stresses out of his mind, letting your fingers weave the tension out of his scalp. Jack’s never let anyone take care of him so much. He’s never felt comfortable to be taken care of like this, but you are his exception. His one single exception. And every morning he sits in the floor at the foot of the bed while you sit with a leg on either side of him, fingers weaving the strands into place for the day and tighter for match days. People make comments but Jack doesn’t give even half of a shit. His hair is how he likes it; out of his face so he can concentrate on his game and it gives you more of a reason to actually be up in the morning when he leaves before the sun rises above you. That’s perfect for Jack.

Until his next haircut, the only time that footballer doesn’t have a braid through his hair is when your fingers are tangling in it while he’s between your legs for another very enjoyable reason.

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