#So there is a HIGH chance that someone's BETTER and MORE LOVED oc is gonna be going up against mine

[cherry-blossom-qf]

With this year's Kirby OC Popularity contest happening, I'm thinking about joining the fun next year (if I actually feel comfortable enough to do it)

I think my boi Oakley would get past the first round of voting at least. Just getting passed the third round would be enough of a confidence booster for me. (tho I doubt I'd even get that far)

I didn't join this year cuz I didn't think Oakley would count as an OC (cuz he's the Master Crown reformed as a person, so I didn't think that was "original" enough), and I had no confidence in that OC Chilly Therapist I made a year ago would get far cuz I barely use him in anything.

...Eh, only time will tell.

[joanofexys]

ocs ask • Inner Life • For Bad withhh Jude 🥰

For Bad: Is there anyone who had an undeniable negative impact on your OC’s life? How did your OC deal with that change? Have they been able to move on?

Jude has a string of bad relationships before Merrick. I’ve threatened before to talk about his shitty dating history. But yeah high school through college is just a series of disasters. And this man is a professional at breaking his own heart

By far the worst is his first boyfriend. Quinn Rhodes ruins Jude Reyes’ life and he swears he’s never going to fall in love with anyone ever again.

Just imagine it. You’re a 16 year old Jude, a junior in high school, you just made starting dealer, and you are head over heels for senior starting striker, Quinn Rhodes.

You have your silly high school crush. You become best friends with him. You’re pretty sure he’s straight. He knows you’re not but he doesn’t seem to mind. And one night, a few weeks after prom, as he’s venting about how he and his girlfriend broke up prom night, he kisses you. And Jude is completely and utterly fucked.

There’s no label on it. They finish up the school year, Quinn graduates, and their little thing continues into the summer. They tell no one.

Quinn signs with USC, he’ll be just a few hours away, but they’re going to be seeing each other a lot. Jude becomes captain of his high school team his senior year.

Quinn asks Jude to be his boyfriend that October, over a midnight phone call. They’re attached at the hip during their breaks. Quinn meets Jude’s moms, they love him.

Jude signs with USC later that year. The two are ecstatic that they’ll get to play together. Their relationship doesn’t even make it to their first game of the year. Beginning of September, Jude’s freshman year, now stuck on the same team together, Quinn Rhodes breaks his heart.

I think we should see other people. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t explore in college. You deserve the chance to experience college dating. It was nice but we both knew it was never gonna last. I mean, it was high school, everyone knows high school dating is casual.

Jude hates him. Jude loves him so much. Jude wants him dead. Jude wants him to show up on the porch of his moms’ place in the pouring rain with a rose and say he wants him back.

He’s so fucking distraught. And this is a man who wears his heart on his sleeve 90% of the time. Quinn is the reason Jude learns to hide a lot of his emotions. This breakup has him obviously devastated and it fucks with the team hard. He’s just fucking miserable throughout September. He checks Quinn too hard. He practically runs out of the locker room. He begs to never be partnered with him again.

Fall break works some type of magic. When he comes back he’s the Jude that they remember signing. He’s the Jude that everyone thinks of fondly in later years.

He and Quinn still avoid each other like the plague but they make it through the year. Then Quinn transfers to Edgar Allan University. And that somehow hurts worse. Jude hates it. He wants to reach out to Quinn now and he can’t. He sent a few texts, make a few desperate calls, all for them to never get a response.

But he deals, and he moves on. And he deals some more with the other shit that life throws at him. And then he’s got too many of his own problems to be worrying about Quinn. And he’s got his team and new friends to look out for. Eventually Quinn becomes a distant memory. Something that aches if he lets himself linger for too long. Someone who still makes him feel bitter. But someone he can’t let himself get hung up on ever again.

So yeah, he moves. He deals, poorly at first, and then learns how to cope better. It might hit him again when he meets Emiko, Mara, and Florian. When he learns more about The Nest. Maybe then he’ll look Quinn up. He’ll see that he crashed and burned. Played too violently with his new team, got a career ending injury. That he’s an assistant coach now. He won’t pick up the phone. He’ll think about it. Wonder if Quinn even has the same number, draft a dozen texts that he’ll never send. And he’ll move on all over again.

[thisis-mairo-whodis]

Hello my little stars my name is Mairo Haboshi but you can call me Mai if that’s easier.

Welcome to my ask page

Here is a bit about my oc

Name:

Mairo

Haboshi

Nick names: Mai, the strategist, my dear star, princess, Mimi, hosta

House: Hotarubi

Year: 3rd

Birthday: 6/3

Star sign: Gemini

Likes: creativity

Artifact: strategists feather fan

-can create a shield over her body when held up and when swiped can push enemy back 10ft

(香蕉叶扇; Xiāngjiāoyèshàn)

Stigma: Tallos- dowsing: finding things and truths.

Downside: has to use a medium to use it she mainly uses a pendulum.

Abilities:

-Stigma: she can find the true direction object, people and anomalies with just description she has a better chance with an item that belongs to them or a photo of what she needs to look for. She can detect lies since it only shows her true directions even in people’s souls.

-Other: She knows defensive martial arts started learn it in her late teens because of her strength. and use to do street fighting in her teens as a way to cope with her anger.

Brief Backstory:

Raised by her mother and her grandparents until she was 16 (grandpa died when she was 6 mother died when she was 13, grandma died when she was 16) then her then forced to live with her father and his family who were all awful to her some worse then others.

One particular bad night she thought she was actually gonna die and started to dissociate herself she met her demon who and made her pact with thinking it was just an illusion of sorts to cope with her abuse. She gave up a “piece” of herself and the demon took all the lives and souls of her “family”.

When she fully realized it wasn’t an illusion was when her father collapsed in front of her and then she had to fight off the change in which she survived.

She avoid darkwicks eye for a few more years until she got caught street fighting on camera with her inhuman strength. Then was made to go to darkwick after high school

Weaknesses:

-Has ptsd from her past living with her father befor the ghoulafation.

-insecure about herself about certain things.

-can become very tired if she uses her stigma too much or for too long, she will sleep for hours or days in a coma like state.

Additional Information:

* eyes: teal

* hair: lavender purple

* she comes from a family of artist and astronomers (mothers)

* her name shows this

Mai-ro (ten thousand-colours)

Ha-boshi (feather/winged-star)

* Her name means a ten thousand colourful - comets or shooting stars (winged star)

* She draw and paints and loves crafts, because of her mother and her mother’s family she dabbles in poetry and astronomy as more of a hobby.

* She is apart of same group as are current third years.

* she has a knack for making friends with anyone.

* she loves to dress in alternative fashion. At first glance people and ghouls alike thought she be put into Vagastorm (didn’t help that she punched out a third year on entrance day)

* she has a close friendship with her fellow housemate Subaru (and Zenji)

* though she likes haku and is happy he joined there house she just can’t fully trust him.

* she was there when Zenji got injured before his death and tried to help him.

* after the clash she was made to use her stigma to many times for very long stints for a month and because of the side effect she went into a deep sleep. She awakes after the third year starts.

* she is close friends with Tohma and by being around also Alan. Hung out in vagastorm so much in her 1st yr people thought she was gonna switch to that house come her 2nd year.

* initially became friends with Tohma because she was crushing on him after the first week at school.

* she loves the atmosphere of hotarubi and just feel like it’s the best fit for her personality and likes so doesn’t see the point in switching.

* because of her stigma she is asked to help with other houses on certain missions especially if they are struggling to find or need to find someone or something fast. Because of this she has worked with all of her year and treats them as her friends, some are closer then others.

* she hides behind a cheery personality and only those closest to her have seen hints of her truer side.

* she will use her knowledge and abilities to gain the upper hand on things and to manipulate the situation to her favour if needed this mostly involves making sure the boys don’t kill each other, and navigating the schools treatment of the ghouls.

* this became a very important aspect to her after Rui was cursed and his treatment by the school.

* yes she does find out about Zenji being a spook(having a doll and a biwa floating around is already a tall tell sign something is fishy) even though Zenji didn’t want her to find out she was mad at him for making Subaru and MC lie to her. Then she also got mad at haku for not telling her either.

* she finds it fascinating he’s a ghost though because you know soul pacts and what not. She does keep Zenjis wish’s and doesn’t tell anyone else.

* though I mainly made her as a love interest for Tohma, I am open to role playing with others.

[lucky-lucky-duck]

Tokyo Debunker Match-up: Tasnim

Ahhhh, I'm sorry this took so long! I was having a week long mental breakdown over classes and then needed a day to recover a bit. c': But!! I really loved the one you did for me so I hope this makes up for the wait! Also, you wrote from the character's perspective so I responded the same way. Hope that's fine! @ithseem @courtofmatchups

Request:

Hey! I run the Court of Matchups blog. This is my main. I'm down to do a trade. Are you willing to do a Tokyo Debunker matchup for an OC? Her name is Tasnim. I'm gonna write this as if she's the one speaking so you can better grasp how they speak, for all intents and purposes, so... Here you go.

Appearance: I am a bisexual South Asian demigirl (she/they pronouns) with straight black hair and tan skin. I usually tie into a low braid because I think it looks cute, and I don't like the feeling of loose hair on the back of my neck. I also wear glasses. I am 160 cm tall and pretty scrawny. My favourite colours are pink and orange, and I present myself very feminine, but I do like to dabble in other aesthetics too.

Personality: I like to say I'm a pretty cheerful and upbeat person. I try my best to smile through tough situations, though it can be hard sometimes. I also like to say I'm a family person, and I will do anything to protect them, and my friends. I am perfectionistic, but sadly I am a bit scatterbrained, much to the dismay of my parents and older sister. Hell, I almost burned the eggs I was making for the first time (I have gotten better tho). I have been working on my organizational skills though, and I’m happy to say that I’ve come a pretty long way. I can be quite petty too. If someone wrongs me, I tell them either bad puns or horrifying facts for a period of time as revenge. I'm also good at math, so my friends come to me for help with that. Also, in almost every friend group I'm in, I somehow become a therapist friend. Lemme tell you, THAT really takes a toll on me. I also have a soft spot for unabridged fairytales (they high-key have me in a chokehold). Some more lil' factoids about me: I wear my hair in a low braid because I don't like the feeling of hair on the back of my neck. My friends and family often told me my hands get pretty animated when I talk

Likes: Anime, drawing comics, video games, unabridged fairytales, sweets (my favourite dessert is caramel pudding) and spending time with my older sister

Dislikes: Cruelty, confrontation (I will kick butt if I need to, literally or figuratively), anyone who dares to threaten my friends or family, arrogance when it gets out of hand, black tea or coffee (I cannot drink it unless it is sweetened or if I have it with a LOT of milk)

Here's the design:

I would match you with: Luca Errant☆

Luca is someone who can really appreciate your disposition, mostly because he's the same way. He's also a very family oriented person, so I think he would try really hard to mesh well with yours, especially if you spend a lot of time with them. He might make himself a little anxious trying to make sure they like him, so please give him a pep talk and maybe some advise.

I also think that he would find the whole scatterbrained thing very cute! Luca sees you as someone on the exact same level as him, like a partner. So, when he finds an opportunity to be the one to support you, he jumps at it. If you mention having plans, he writes it down and reminds you later. If you're cooking, he'll try to inconspicuously position himself close enough to react if you turn away and it starts to burn. (he cannot cook, though, so that's probably as far as that goes.) He wants to be everything you need, but he's very good about not overdoing it or overstepping boundaries.

Luca is very much an acts of service and quality time man when it comes to relationships, so there's not a chance in hell that you'd ever be forced into the therapist friend role. He'll probably have a problem with others treating you like that, as well. And unfortunately, Luca definitely doesn't shy away from confrontation when he sees if weighing on you. In the moments where the both of you are going through something tough behind closed doors, you'd be able the comfort the other in a way that doesn't leave either of you to take the brunt of the emotions.

Ask him to braid your hair for you! Please! I don't think he knows how initially, but he absolutely starts learning for you the minute you ask him about it. It's a small act that he can do for you, and it almost feels like he can braid in all of his affection and good will, which I think would make him feel better when he can't be around you for a while. He also keeps one of your hair ties on his wrist, just in case.

Also, how ironic is it that you're obsessed with unabridged fairy tales and then end up with the most Disney Prince lookin' ass in the whole franchise? He loves that you like telling him about your favorite things, and he'd get a lot of comfort just from listening to you ramble about it, even if it's the bloody and disturbing topic of unabridged fairy tales. All-in-all, I think this would be a really happy pair!

[biinkspacewp]

III. Son of the God of Toilets

PAIRING: Percy Jackson x Fem!OC

SUMMARY: Percy gets a tour of Camp Half-Blood, including a closeup of the girls’ bathroom.

WARNINGS: bullying, physical fighting

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They’d only made it a few steps away from the cabin before Annabeth spoke.

“Jackson, you have to do better than that.”

“What?”

Annabeth rolled her eyes and grumbled under her breath, “I can’t believe I thought you were the one.”

Amara stood in between the two. “Annie, that’s not fair. Percy, you just need to—“

“What’s your problem?” Percy yelled, anger taking over. “All I know is, I kill some bull guy—“

“Don’t talk like that!” Annabeth interrupted him. “You know how many kids at this camp wish they’d had your chance?”

“Hold on,” Amara said, trying to separate the two.

“To get killed?”

“To fight the Minotaur!”

“Okay!” Amara screamed. “Stop yelling at each other or I’m leaving.”

She didn’t necessarily have an issue with them yelling at each other, she just hated that she couldn’t seem to get a word in. At least now they could all be upset together.

Annabeth just crossed her arms. Amara pushed her fingers through her hair by her temples, covering her eyes with her palms before dragging her hands down her face. Percy stood there like a kid who’d just been scolded, arms hanging awkwardly by his side as he looked around.

Amara broke the silence.

“Look, most of us are here because at some point we were attacked by something. We didn’t all have to opportunity to kill our monsters so killing the Minotaur is like a dream come true to some of us,” Amara explained. “That’s why it’s important that you make a good impression, Percy. Everyone’s already got these high expectations of you because you killed the Minotaur.”

Percy shook his head. “If what I fought was the Minotaur, like the Minotaur, isn’t there only one?”

“Yes”

“And he died, like, a gajillion years ago, right? Theseus killed him in the Labyrinth. So…”

“Monsters don’t die, Percy,” Annabeth said. “They can be killed. But they don’t die.”

“Oh, thanks. That clears it up.”

“They don’t have souls, not like we do,” Amara explained. “You can kill them, and they’ll stay dead for a while.”

“Maybe even a whole lifetime if you’re lucky,” Annabeth added.

“But monsters are primal forces. They take their time reforming, but once they do it’s like they never died in the first place.”

Percy thought about Mrs. Dodds. “So if I happened to kill one, accidentally, with a sword, it can come back?” he questioned.

“The Fur… I mean, your math teacher. That’s right. She’s still out there. You just made her very, very mad.”

“How did you know about Mrs. Dodds?”

“You talk in your sleep,” the two girls answered at the same time.

Percy didn’t love that. Hopefully, he didn’t say anything completely embarrassing. Heat crawled up his neck and flicked against the tips of his ears at the thought.

“You almost called her something. A Fury? They’re Hades’ torturers, right?”

Percy watched as the pair glanced around nervously, Annabeth staring at the ground like it would open up and swallow her while Amara scanned the sky as if something was going to swoop down and carry her away.

“You shouldn’t call them by name, even here. We call them the Kindly Ones, if we have to speak of them at all.”

“You’re more than welcome to risk it though. I’m sure the Ares kids would love a good excuse for a fight,” Amara joked. Annabeth smacked her arm, the two girls now having an entire conversation through their eyes.

Are you serious?

Someone had to lighten the mood and I’m just pissed it was me.

He needs to learn or it’ll get him killed.

You also need to chill or he’s gonna get mad again and ignore you.

“Look,” Percy said, interrupting the bizarre silent film he was being subjected to. “Is there anything we can say without it thundering? And why do I have to stay in cabin eleven, anyway? There are plenty of empty bunks right over there.”

He pointed at Zeus and Hera’s cabins to prove his point. Annabeth looked like she was gonna be sick. It took everything Amara had in her not to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

“You don’t just chose a cabin, Percy. It depends on who your parents are. Or parent.”

“My mom is Sally Jackson,” Percy said. Amara just closed her eyes and sighed quietly. All the humor from the situation was gone.

You adorable, clueless idiot, she thought. Wait, adorable?

“She works at the candy store in grand central station,” he continued. “Or at least, she used to.”

“I’m sorry about your mom, Percy. But that’s not what I mean. I’m talking about your other parent. Your dad.”

“He’s dead. I never knew him.”

Annabeth sighed this time. Amara jumped in, hopefully preventing Annabeth from just strangling Percy.

“Your dad’s not dead. You wouldn’t be here if he was. You wouldn’t be here unless you were one of us.”

“You don’t know that,” Percy said, anger returning. “You don’t know anything about me.”

His outburst pushed the two over the edge. Maybe Amara would let Annabeth strangle him. Maybe it would kickstart something in his brain.

“No?” Annabeth started. “I bet you moved around from school to school a lot. I bet you were kicked out of a lot of them.”

“You were probably diagnosed with dyslexia and ADHD,” Amara continued, raising a finger on her hand for every point they made. “Letters float off the page when you read and what doesn’t float away is always shifting around. That’s because your brain is hardwired for ancient Greek.”

“And your ADHD. You’re impulsive, can’t sit still in the classroom. That’s your battlefield reflexes. In a real fight, they keep you alive. As for your attention issues, that’s because you see too much, Percy, not too little. Your senses are better than a regular mortal’s. That’s why teachers want you medicated. Most of them are monsters. They don’t want you seeing them for what they are.”

Percy looked unnerved. Amara supposed she would be too if two borderline strangers just summed up her life. But they’d done this speech a hundred times. It was always the same story.

“You sound like you went through the same thing.”

“Most of the kids here did. If you weren’t like us, you wouldn’t have survived the Minotaur, much less the ambrosia and nectar.”

“Ambrosia and nectar,” Percy stated, but it came out more like a question.

“The food and drink we were giving you to make you better. That stuff would’ve killed a normal kid. It would have turned your blood to fire and your bones to sand and you’d be dead. Face it. You’re a half-blood.”

“It’s not all bad,” Amara said. “You get to stay here where it’s safe, year round if you want. Chiron’s a good teacher, a lot better than mortal ones, and since the lessons are in Greek it’s not as hard to understand. And you’ll make friends that you get to spend a ton of time with. And there’s amazing food and the campfire.”

Amara stopped when she realized Percy wasn’t really listening to her anymore.

Percy was stuck inside his own head, thoughts flying around faster than he could process them, until a shout snapped him out of it.

“Hey! A newbie!”

Clarisse La Rue and three of her sisters—Sloane, Megan, and Audrey—had pushed their way out of cabin five and were now marching directly toward them.

“Clarisse,” Annabeth seethed. It was probably an Ares’ kid trait, but nobody pissed people off quite like Clarisse did. “Why don’t you go polish your spear or something?”

“Sure, Miss Princess. So I can run you through with it Friday night.”

“Erre es korakas! You don’t stand a chance.”

“We’ll pulverize you,” Clarisse growled.

“Clarisse,” Amara snapped. “Camp is huge. Find anywhere else to be, please.”

“Nah, but good try, Sunshine.” Clarisse smiled when she saw Amara glaring at her. “Who’s this little runt?”

“Percy Jackson, meet Clarisse, daughter of Ares.”

Amara guessed they were skipping over the introductions for everyone else. Shame. She loved calling Audrey ‘Aubrey’ and watching her eye twitch when she corrected her.

“Like…the war god?”

Clarisse sneered. “You got a problem with that?”

“No,” Percy responded, a sudden surge of confidence overtaking him. “It explains the bad smell.”

Amara couldn’t contain her laugh. She quickly pulled her lips between her teeth, biting down to silence herself, but the damage was done.

Clarisse growled. “We’ve got an initiation ceremony for newbies, Prissy.”

“Percy.”

“Whatever. Come one, I’ll show you.”

“Clarisse—“ Annabeth tried to say.

“Stay out of it, wise girl.”

“Hey!” Amara started at Clarisse, but Annabeth grabbed her wrist before she got anywhere. She looked over at her and Annabeth just shook her head.

Not worth it.

She hated it when Annabeth was right. She didn’t actually hate it, Annabeth was right a lot of the time, it just sucked that there wasn’t anything they could do for Percy without getting caught in the crossfire.

Percy handed Amara his Minotaur horn and got ready to fight. Amara had never held a spoil of war before. She turned it over in her hand, rubbing her thumb over the tip of the horn. She should probably give it to Annabeth, not deeming herself responsible enough to hold onto someone’s only memento, but he gave it to her so she hardened her grip until her hand hurt. She wouldn’t lose it.

Percy lost the fight immediately, Clarisse putting him in a headlock and dragging him towards the girls’ bathroom. Percy was kicking and punching the entire time, but Clarisse never wavered. She made it into the bathroom with him in record time.

The girls’ bathroom wasn’t anything spectacular. There was a line of toilets down one side, a few shower stalls along the back, and a line of sinks up the other wall. The cabins all had their own bathrooms, so the communal ones weren’t used often. They were clean, Chiron made sure of that, but they certainly looked original to the camp.

Clarisse grabbed a handful of Percy’s hair and led him into one of the stalls, Percy too busy trying to avoid getting his hair ripped out to stop her. He wouldn’t have been successful anyways. Somehow fighting against Clarisse was worse than fighting against the Minotaur.

“Like he’s ‘Big Three’ material,” Clarisse snickered. “Yeah, right. Minotaur probably fell over laughing, he was so stupid looking.”

“Pot meet kettle,” Amara murmured under her breath. Annabeth smacked her arm to tell her to shut up when Clarisse’s sisters stopped laughing and turned back toward them.

Clarisse shoved Percy onto his knees and pushed his head toward to the toilet bowl. Percy fought against her the whole way. If his head was going to get dunked in toilet water, then he wasn’t going peacefully.

Percy was straining against Clarisse, completely refusing to accept his fate, when he felt something pull at the pit of his stomach.

The pipes began to rumble. Clarisse’s hand loosened in his hair as everything shuttered. Then a stream of water shot out of the toilet, completely missing Percy and hitting Clarisse straight in the face.

She fell, the force of the water knocking her off her feet and pushing her back against the sinks as her screamed. Her sisters came forward to help, but water began to spout from every fixture in the bathroom. Streams from the showers and sinks joined the toilets, targeting the four girls until they were washed away and out of the bathroom.

As soon as they were gone it’s like the plumbing realized it had gotten rid of the garbage and ceased fire, water settling back into the pipes where it belonged.

Unfortunately, Amara and Annabeth weren’t spared. The two were soaked, clothes dripping wet and Amara’s hair pulled nearly straight from the weight of the water. They stared at him in shock.

The entire bathroom was flooded. The only dry spot in the room was a circle around Percy. Even Percy was bone dry, not a drop of water on him or his clothes.

He slowly got to his feet, his legs shaky, and walked toward to two girls.

“How did you…”

“I don’t know,” Percy answered, looking back over the bathroom like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“All hail, Percy Jackson. Son of the god of toilets,” Amara quipped flatly, handing Percy back his Minotaur horn so she could wring out her hair. She grimaced as they walked through the door. The feeling of wet clothes rubbing against her skin was revolting.

Outside, Clarisse and her sisters were sprawled out on the grass recovering. By now other campers had gathered around, curious about the scene that they had caused.

If Annabeth and Amara looked bad, then Clarisse was ten times worse. Her hair was flattened across her face, clothes sopping and covered in mud where the sudden water flow had found bare patches of dirt. Fire burned in her eyes when she saw Percy. “You are dead, new boy. You are totally dead.”

Percy apparently liked to try his luck, words slipping past his lips before he could stop them. “You want to gargle with toilet water again, Clarisse? Close your mouth.”

She went to charge Percy, but her sisters held her back. They dragged her back to cabin five, other campers avoiding them as they went, before finally disappearing inside the gaudy red building.

Amara wasn’t sure if Percy had a lack of self preservation or just lacked a filter between his brain and his mouth, but she had to admit that it was nice to see Clarisse be knocked down a few pegs.

The two girls stared at him. Annabeth was all too good at hiding her emotions from him and Amara wasn’t far behind, her eyes only partially giving her away. He couldn’t tell whether they were grossed out, angry, or impressed.

“What?” He caved, itching to hear what they had to say. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that I want you on my team for capture the flag.”

Amara wouldn’t burst his bubble that he was already on Annabeth’s team, Annabeth all but securing Athena’s alliance with Hermes through Luke and Amara, and let Percy have his moment.

In fact, Amara refused to answer him at all, much to Percy’s disgust. He wasn’t sure why he cared so much what she thought of him, but he continued to pester her as Annabeth showed him more places around camp. They made it through the forge, the arts-and-crafts room, and the climbing wall before they stopped at the canoeing lake.

Between Percy staring at her anytime he wasn’t listening to Annabeth and her waterlogged clothes chafing her skin, Amara was more than ready to get back to cabin eleven.

“I’ve got training to do,” Annabeth said flatly. “Dinner’s at seven-thirty. Just follow your cabin to the mess hall.”

“Look, I’m sorry about the toilets.”

Amara appreciated the apology, running her fingers between the cut off bottoms of her shorts and her legs, unsticking the wet denim. Annabeth seemed far less accepting.

“Whatever.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

Wrong answer. The look Annabeth shot him made it clear that it was, in fact, his fault.

“You need to go talk to the Oracle.”

“After getting approval from Chiron, that is,” Amara chipped in, now pulling her shirt away from her stomach, somehow more uncomfortable in her wet clothes standing still than she was walking around.

“Who?”

“Not who. What. The Oracle. I’ll just ask Chiron.”

Percy didn’t respond. He only had more questions and figured it was probably better to just keep quiet than ask more stupid questions that he wouldn’t get clear answers to.

He stared down into the lake, not expecting two pairs of eyes to be staring back at him. Two teenage girls were sitting at the bottom of the pier wearing jeans and t-shirts, their hair floating up around them as minnows darted about. They smiled up at him and waved. Not knowing what else to do, Percy waved back.

“Don’t encourage them,” Annabeth warned. “Naiads are terrible flirts.”

Amara rolled her eyes. The naiads might be terrible flirts, but they were pretty and they were always nice to Amara.

“Naiads,” Perry repeated, looking back at the underwater girls like he’d finally lost his mind. “That’s it. I want to go home now.”

Amara felt bad for him. After everything—the Minotaur, the bathroom, seeing Chiron—it was naiads that made him think he’d gone crazy.

“You are home, Percy. This is the only safe place on earth for kids like us.”

“You mean, mentally disturbed kids?” Percy blurted, turning away from the water.

“She means for half-bloods, demigods, whatever you wanna call us. The not-mortals, not completely at least,” Amara said.

“Not completely. So we’re supposed to be what? Half-god?” Percy responded. He knew that was true. He wasn’t too sure about a lot of things, but he did know that demigods were half god, half human. He just couldn’t admit that it might be true about himself.

Annabeth nodded. “Your father isn’t dead, Percy. He’s an Olympian.”

“That’s…crazy.”

“Is it? What’s the most common thing gods did in the old stories? They ran around falling in love with humans and having kids with them. Do you think they’ve changed their habits in the last few millennia?”

“But those are just—“ Percy paused. He supposed he’d seen a lot of myths over the last few days. So he was either dreaming, crazy, or they were really telling the truth. “So if all the kids here are half-gods—“

“Demigods,”Annabeth corrected. “That’s the official term. That or half-bloods.”

“I still prefer not-mortal. Has a specific air of uncertainty that calls to me,” Amara chimed in. She knew her quips weren’t exactly well timed, but she couldn’t stand the overbearing tension.

“Then who’s your dad?” Percy asked, finishing his thought from before Annabeth interrupted him.

He immediately regretted asking. Annabeth’s hands tightened around the pier railing and Amara just looked at the ground, any amusement she previously had wiped from her features.

“My dad is a professor at West Point. I haven’t seen him since I was very small. He teaches American history.”

“He’s human.”

“What? You assume it has to be a male god who finds a human female attractive? How sexist is that?”

Percy decided to ignore her outburst before he dug himself an even deeper hole. He looked to Amara. “What about you?”

"My dad’s a curator. He works with Greek and Roman artifacts. He kinda bounces around but last time I saw him he was working at the Parthenon in Nashville.”

“So who’s your mom, then?”

If Percy thought the hole he dug with Annabeth was deep, then he hit the underworld with Amara. She just looked up at him, her smile sad as she shrugged her shoulders.

“The million dollar question. Undetermined,” she stated.

“Cabin six,” Annabeth answered, directing Percy’s attention to her and away from Amara.

“Meaning?”

“Athena. Goddess of wisdom and battle.”

“And my dad?”

“Undetermined,” Amara said. “Just like me. Nobody knows.”

“Except my mother. She knew.”

“Maybe not, Percy. Gods don’t always reveal their identities.”

“My dad would of. He loved her.”

The two girls shared a look, Annabeth trying her best not to harm Percy’s perception of his parents. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe he’ll send a sign. That’s the only way to know for sure: your father has to send you a sign claiming you as his son. Sometimes it happens.”

“Sometimes it doesn’t,” Amara cautioned, bitterness coating her tongue.

“What do you mean sometimes it doesn't?”

“The gods are busy. They have a lot of kids and they don’t always…” Annabeth ran her palm along the rail, trying to find the right words.

“They don’t always care about us,” Amara finished. “They ignore us.”

Percy observed Amara. All the times he’d seen her so far she’d been pretty bubbly and positive. She took care of him, smiled at him, cracked jokes.

Now she looked absolutely dreadful, arms crossed over her chest, eyes a mixture of resentment and dejection. She looked like a crumbling shell of the lively girl he was becoming accustomed to.

He thought back to the situation he was in. “So I’m just stuck here. That’s it? For the rest of my life?”

“It depends,” Annabeth said. “Some campers only stay the summer. If you’re a child of Aphrodite or Demeter, you’re probably not a real powerful force. The monsters might ignore you, so you can get by with a few months of summer training and live in the mortal world the rest of the year. But for some of us, it’s too dangerous to leave. We’re year-rounders. In the mortal world, we attract monsters. They sense us. They come to challenge us. Most of the time, they’ll ignore us until we’re old enough to cause trouble—about ten or eleven years old, but after that, most demigods either make their way here, or they get killed off. “

“So monsters can’t get in here?”

“Not unless they’re intentionally stocked in the woods or specially summoned by somebody on the inside.”

“Why would anybody want to summon a monster?”

“Practice fights.”

“Practical jokes,” Amara chimed in.

“Practical jokes?”

“The point is, the borders are sealed to keep mortals and monsters out. From the outside, mortals look into the valley and see nothing unusual, just a strawberry farm.”

Percy paused, processing all the information that’s been thrown at him in the last few minutes.

“So…you’re both year-rounders?”

The two girls nodded, Annabeth pulling her leather necklace out from under the collar of her shirt. Amara’s already laid on top of her shirt, three colorful clay beads on display compared to Annabeth’s five. Annabeth’s also held a gold class ring in the center of her necklace.

“I’ve been here since I was seven. Every August, on the last day of summer session, you get a bead for surviving another year. I’ve been here longer than most of the councilors, and they’re all in college.”

“Why did you come so young?”

“None of your business.”

Percy just sighed, standing there uncomfortably as silence fell over the group. If they got a bead for every year, then Amara had been there three years, since she was nine presumably. Percy was glad he got the extra few years with his mom, even if he had to suffer through smelly Gabe to have them.

“So…I could just walk out of here right now if I wanted to?”

“It would be suicide, but you could, with Mr. D’s or Chiron’s permission. But they wouldn’t give permission until the end of the summer session unless…”

“Unless?”

“Unless you were granted a quest. But that’s rare and it’s been years since the last one,” Amara said.

“Back in the sick room, you asked me something about the summer solstice.”

“So you do know something,” Annabeth said accusingly.

“Well…no. Back at my old school, I overheard Grover and Chiron talking about it. Grover mentioned the summer solstice. He said something like we didn’t have much time, because of the deadline. What did that mean?”

“I wish I knew. Chiron and the satyrs, they know, but they won’t tell me. Something is wrong in Olympus, something pretty major. Last time we were there, everything seemed so normal.”

“You’ve been to Olympus?”

Amara nodded. “There was a field trip during the winter solstice. That’s when the gods have their big annual council. Some of the year-rounders got to go—Annabeth, me, Luke, Clarisse and a few others.”

“But…how do you get there?”

“The Long Island Railroad, of course. You get off at Penn Station. Empire State Building, special elevator to the sixth hundred floor. You are a New Yorker, right?”

“Oh, sure,” Percy responded, like there was definitely six hundred floors and not only a hundred and two.

Amara didn’t have much to contribute. She knew Empire State Building and floor six hundred, but the rest might as well have been gibberish instead of instructions. She was not a New Yorker.

“Right after we visited, the weather got weird, as if the gods had started fighting. A couple of times since, I’ve overheard satyrs talking. The best I can figure out is that something important was stolen. And if it isn’t returned by summer solstice, there’s going to be trouble. When you came, I was hoping…I mean—Athena can get along with just about anybody, except for Ares. And of course she’s got the rivalry with Poseidon. But, I mean, aside from that, I thought we could work together. I thought you might know something.”

Amara kept her suspicions about Percy’s father to herself for the sake of Annabeth. There was no god of toilets, at least not one she was familiar with. The only god she could think of that would give Percy the ability manipulate the water in the bathrooms would be the god of the sea, Poseidon, and that would be the last thing Annabeth would want to be true. She had a feeling the girl was already jumping through hoops in her mind to deny any possibility that Percy could be a son of Poseidon.

Perry just shook his head, confirming that he didn’t know anything more about the solstice or what the gods could be fighting about.

“I’ve got to get a quest,” Annabeth mumbled to herself. “I’m not too young. If they would just tell me the problem…”

“Then we could go fix it,” Amara smiled at the girl. “Unus pro omnibus, omnes pro uno.”

Annabeth hated when Amara spoke in Latin, but at least this was a phrase she knew. It was something Amara’s dad used to say that she’d accidentally brought to camp with her, saying it to Annabeth and Luke often and almost always using it as the blue team’s motto in capture the flag.

Percy seemed to know it too. “One for all, all for one.” He flushed when both girls looked at him, scrambling to explain himself. “What? Chiron was my Latin teacher.”

Amara just giggled as Annabeth shook her head.

The smell of barbecue was now wafting through the air, mixing with the weaker scent of fresh bread and fruit. Percy’s stomach growled loudly.

“Come on.” Amara gestured at Percy to follow her. “I wanna change before dinner. I’ll see you at the campfire, Annie!”

“See you at the campfire, Mae,” Annabeth mumbled distractedly, tracing her finger over the rail of the pier as she looked out at the lake.

[gigglegoobers]

So, dudes, the time has come! The audience craves to know more about Bob, Manuel and Eduardo. What's their age difference and how do they usually interact with each other in general and in some specific circumstances, like at work or in front of a pretty girl? >:3

EVERYBODY SHOUT YOUR LOVE FOR RUDNI AT THE TOP OF YOUR LUNGS 3 2 1 GO GO GOOO!!!!!!!! WE LOOVE YOUUU RUUUDDNIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYAYAYAYAYYAYAA!!!!!!

okay, we're normal now 🤏🤓 las tres balas are each 4 years apart! manuel is the youngest, 19 years of age. bob was born the middle child, sitting at a good 23 years of age. and of course, eduardo is the eldest; 27 years old!

bro we're gonna be honest, we don't even know where to begin with describing their interactions BAHAHAHHZHHAHAAA it'd be a whole thesis essay's worth for a teeny tiny tumblr post 😭😭 we plan on making some posts with further exploration of their dynamics in the future, so for this one, we'll just discuss the simplest one of the bunch: how they act in front of a pretty lady!

but before that! we offer you the following ancient ash B.C. times shitpost that may reveal a bit abt them,,,,mmMmMmMAYBE?? yaur 🙈 ...naurrr.

CW// mentions of drogas 😈these kitties r high asf idk what to tell u. ANYWAYZ,,, OPEN WIDE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (how they interact in front a purty lady under the cut!!)

OMMGG HIIIIIIIIII 🤗🤗🤗

AHEM. ur gonna wanna sit down 4 this one chief.

bob: pre-maria, bob was quite the flirt! thats not to say he was successful in scoring dates, though. if anything, it'd be so obvious that he's trying so ridiculously hard to rizz a girl up that he'd be rejected on the spot every single time. (his go-to was the lightskin stare. he may have gotten slapped for it one too many times). stuff like that, however, never got him down. he's a bit of an optimist and keeps flirting with one lady after the next. eduardo has warned his brothers not to get to personally attached to a lady love, and at the start, bob has no qualms following that rule. he's just a guy wanting to have some fun. he's not insensitive, however. he's well mannered and wouldnt ever dare to overstep a woman's boundaries. unfortunately, he's still remains a fuckass goof, which in turn makes the women he converses with think he's being a pervert. his brothers like to tease him about his failed attempts every chance they get. bob talks big about having game, but rly all he's got are losses. sometimes, they'll even take bets! manuel would suggest that maybe bob will get lucky "this time around." eduardo, on the other hand, would merely mention how bob should just cut his losses. post-maria, bob is less pretentious and egotistical in regards to interacting with a pretty lady, or actually ANY lady in general. his love for maria runs deep, so there's no way he'd flirt with anyone that's not her. instead, he's polite! a total sweetheart just minding his own business. he's been a sweetheart all this time and maria's helped open that part of him even further. of course, in involving himself with someone that personally, he's disobeyed eduardo's rule. eduardo disapproves of his brother's romance with maria. strongly so! there comes a point where he slightly threatens bob to let go of his relationship, but it's not like bob would actually listen. it's useless talking sense to him when it comes to this, so all eduardo can really do is just constantly keep warning bob on how this is not good for either of the love birds. he outwardly makes his disapproval clear. always. manuel, on the other hand, doesn't seem to pay much mind to bob's relationship predicament and seems pretty supportive. he figures bob deserves a little good in his life, and if he's found someone to love, well, how can he refuse his own brother's happiness? (after all, maybe falling in love with maria might even change bob for the better...)

manuel: the most indifferent of the bunch. he's too busy chasing after his own highs to even think about women. it wouldn't ever occur to him to pursue a woman, he's just not cut out for that kind of stuff. he can recognize an attractive woman, but he'd much prefer to just chill and have a good time hanging with them. lamentably, first impressions with him go terribly wrong, so that kind of stuff would never really happen. people keep thinking he's just some crazy that has zero grip on reality! if anything, he ends up scaring the poor lady off. his brothers don't really tease him much about it, maybe a bit on the fact that he's never woo'd anyone, but they wouldn't linger too much on the subject. manuel often finds himself playing along with their teasing, opting to say that there's still time for him and joking that nobody could handle him as he ever so proudly gestures to himself. at the end of the day though, the brothers are very well aware that they are to remain single and eduardo bears a strong faith in manuel in that regard.

eduardo: oh, he's a complete MESS. growing up, he's taken on the role of looking after his brothers p seriously. he claims he's got no time for women, that they should all stay focused on what's what, and that he actually couldn't care less about a lady at all. but nah, don't fall for all that bull (with the exception of the "being focused" part), he's a wreck. he's just terrible with women! all women. he clams up, gets flustered as all hell, freezes on the spot, and then he books it with a beating hyperactive heart. him? alone with a woman? TALKING? no way! not him!! bob and manuel love putting him on the spot, and they love it even more when they see their dear grumpy older brother dash towards the nearest alleyway as soon as the lady opens her mouth to speak. he loves to joke about bob's poor game with the ladies, but when his own brothers turn the tables on him? he's such a sour puss and puts up an act. unfortunately for him, his brothers see right through it. when he's on the job and the situation requires him to interact with a woman, he's dead set on pulling through and hides it pretty well. his heart is beating a million times a minute, but duty calls and he's fixed on pulling through. this does not spare him from the teasing after the job is done though 😭

[churro-lord]

*lays on tummy and kicks up legs* tell me about them

This is when I wish I had access to Discord emotes, but regardless thank you for enabling me and my horrible ocs >:]

Meet Sherri and Myntea! The main teal and goldblood characters in my batch of critters. Some context before I get into both of them individually: The story they're apart of is called Temporal Shuffle, and a running theme among their group is following in their ancestor's footsteps in one way or another, similar to the canon trolls symbolically paralleling their own. However here, it's more extreme. Like- think something along the lines of a session full of trolls who treat their ancestors as Eridan and Vriska did. It's a mess of children who don't know what the FUCK they're doing. Anyways, onto Sherri and Myntea themselves.

Sherri Asafer, Prospit dreamer, Mage of Life [She/They]- Assassin in training, though she has a disdain for it. She's only doing so to follow in her ancestor's footsteps who was a high ranking assassin herself, as they were hatched and raised to do so. In spite of this, Sherri has a prominent side gig online as an anonymous creator who promotes rather controversial ideas online [for alternia] and tries to spread positivity when she can [to mixed results], often getting away with a lot of it due to having connections. However, this has lead to her being subjected to physical danger on multiple occasions on the off chance someone is to figure out who she is. Still, this doesn't stop them as they have a strong belief that things can get better. Aside from that, their other main hobby is plush crafting.

Myntea Horrol, Derse dreamer, Knight of Heart [She/Her]- A psionic who once had rather impressive but destructive and hard to contain abilities, until an incident that greatly burnt out her abilities. She still can use them, however they are pretty weak and can cause strain if used too much. Very much so the edge to Sherri's fluff, Myntea is a reclusive and paranoid troll who works at a convenience store. Her ancestor was a warrior who fought in one of the rebellions against Condy, someone who Myntea admires and unfairly uses to compare herself to. Aside from that, Myntea has a fondness for science, and a curiosity that can make her quite nosy despite her better judgement.

Myn and Sherri met when Sherri had taken a particularly rough job as she ended up taking a beating before she finished the target off. Her body sore and her hive being too far away to walk all the way back without a rest, she decided to take her chances and rest up in a cave she had found hidden away by some boulders.

It was a lot larger than they expected, the entrance was so covered up it seemed like more of a crawlspace, except this cave was big enough to have a hive inside of it. With some consideration, they decided to risk the potential of the troll living there being hostile, eventually running into Myn.

I'm not gonna go into the whole thing here because I am tired and I honestly wasn't planning on typing this much, but hey! It is what it is and I'd love to talk about them more outside of this post. I will say as a fun fact! They are in my Pesterquest comic as side characters, so look out for them ^_^

[twistedtummies2]

How would your twst ocs react if someone proposed to them?

Ohhhhh...oh, this is gonna be a HARD one. XD I'm really not good at the hyper-romantic type stuff! But I'll try my best... First of all, let's completely disregard the gender of the other party: male, female, undecided...it doesn't matter, love is love, a proposal is a proposal. So if you're looking for explicit M/M or F/M stuff, not happening. XD With that said... I feel like, with James, Elias, Grit, and Maelstrom, in particular...no one would propose to them. Oh, no. THEY would propose to YOU first. Inarguably. Why? Well, James has a swashbuckler's sort of cavalier chivalry, despite his piratical attitude at times, so I think he would feel it's his duty to be the one to make the proposal first. Elias, meanwhile, just has a tendency to be very melodramatic in general. So he'd WANT to make that proposal first. He'd have a freaking speech or poem or song prepared for it and everything. Grit and Maelstrom...I feel both of them have a commonality of being raised a certain way by their parents. In both cases, they were taught to be the ones to make the proposal, so propose they shall. So ask not how they would react to someone proposing to them: ask instead how YOU would react if THEY proposed. ;) With those four out of the way, that leaves us with Nakoda, Billy, Reno, Smitty, and Theodore. In all five cases, I think there's a better chance of the other party proposing before they do, for various reasons. With both Smitty and Billy, I think they'd be very, very blushy. I mean, they're both still getting over the fact they have an S/O to begin with, somebody who is "more than a friend," someone who will give them hugs and even kisses and say loving things to them and go out on dates and so on. They're honestly very content there already. So when the other party reveals they're ready to go the next step...it's a mixture of excitement, nervousness, and absolute bewilderment this is happening at all. And you can be darn sure it's going to end in a LOT of cuddling...in Smitty's case, it's like hugging a teddy bear. In Billy's, it's more like the teddy is hugging you. ;) In Reno's case, he'd be caught off guard, but he'd also try to recover and save face as quickly as possible. He'd smirk and try to show off, laughing about how he wondered how long it would take you, before sort of snorting and saying that he'll accept, provided you give him a kiss right there and then. Just ignore the way his pale cheeks turn a bit pink, or how fast his heart is beating. ;) Theodore would, I think, just sort of freeze up, his eyes VERY wide. He'd be absolutely stunned. After you finish, he'd actually start laughing hysterically; a high-flying, cackling, almost insane laugh, wiping as he eyes and cackling about how he thinks you MUST be joking. Once he gets it through his head that, no, you are VERY serious...I think he'd switch instantly from cackling at the "joke" to sort of scowling as he tries to figure out what you even see in him. But eventually he'd accept it and give you a rare, soft smile before saying yes...mind you, with the added (affectionate) taunt that you have to be very dumb to propose to him. The kiss on your nose indicates he doesn't mind. As for Nakoda...he is different from all the rest. Because while all the rest will accept right then and there...he won't. He won't say no, either. He'll say he has to think about it. And he means it: he DOES have to think about it. Nako, as I've indicated many times in the past, isn't really used to long-running romantic relationships. He's used to one night stands...and a lot of those end with his partner ending up as food. So, even more than Smitty and Billy...he NEVER thought he'd get this far. He's been trying hard, mind you, but the very IDEA that this could become something more...that's something he almost can't wrap his head around. And it now means he has to really figure out what it's going to mean if he says yes. It's not that he doesn't trust you with all this, it's that he doesn't trust HIMSELF. Eventually, he'll say yes...then it's all a question of what comes next.

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @mk-writes-stuff, these questions look fun!

OC Question Game

My questions:

What would you wear to a fancy party?

If you could time travel and talk to your younger self, what would you say to them?

What’s the nicest thing someone’s ever done for you?

I'll answer for the Outcasts crew :)

.

1) What would you wear to a fancy party?

Izjik: "...clothes?"

Sepo: "If I had my pick, I'd wear a Shuari-style suit. The fashion compliments my features. Blue is overdone for seafolk and purple makes me look sunburned, so suppose I'd go with a forest green shade. That, paired with some silver hairpins that I could stab someone with in a pinch and a tasteful amount of pointed rings for punching, should do nicely."

Twenari: "I always love a good sundress. They're so elegant without being restricting. I'd go with copper jewelry as well - it sets off my eyes."

Djek: "I don't know - I'm not really the type to get an invite to a fancy party. If I could wear anything though, I'd go with a cape. They just seem so swanky! And you never see someone unimportant wearing a cape. Plus, just things of all the loot I could hide underneath!"

2) If you could time travel and talk to your younger self, what would you say to them?

Izjik: "It gets better, kid. It's not gonna be all sunshine and butterflies, but it ain't gonna be all doom and gloom either, even if it seems like that sometimes. You're gonna go on to meet some incredible people, and do some incredible things. Just keep your chin high and don’t ever give up."

Sepo: "Stop being such a dick. Surface people are sentient. Spend more time with your brother. And go brush up on your Halawema’ishi. It'll be relevant, trust me."

Twenari: "FOR THE LOVE OF THE GODS, STOP FUCKING AROUND WITH ROTTING MAGIC!"

Djek: "Alright, the canal racket numbers in your year were 14-77-85, with a jackpot of half a million tuec. Get a ticket to Hazipili, buy in, and we'll be swimming in coin for the rest of our life. I'm counting on you, man!"

3) What’s the nicest thing someone’s ever done for you?

Izjik: "Other than Sepo saving my life half a dozen times and the humans matching that number between the two of them? I guess that time Djek kept talking to me when we were captured by the church. I wasn't myself. I wasn't acting rational. I'd let End turn me into a beast without it even being all the way in my head. But Djek never gave up on me. He talked and told me stories. He laughed at his own jokes when I wasn't able to. I don't think I've ever been so hopeless, but he never faltered, never let me slip. He's a good man, Djek is; better than he gives himself credit for."

Sepo: "It was within our first week together that Izjik and I had our first argument. I was completely in the wrong and acting like a racist jackass. She gave me what for, as I deserved, but the next day, she also gave me a gift. A little bone flute, carved from a scavenged kill. I think she understood that I was a Singer-Priest stripped of his song. I can't play the flute, of course. I don't have a tongue. But her kindness helped me understand that sirens are wrong about their ideas of a 'superior race.' What uncivilized brute would've done something so perfectly kind for a stranger they knew was hurting? She gave me that flute, yes, but she also gave me the truth of the world."

Twenari: "Izjik and Sepo could've left me to die in the Vay wilderness where they found me. They could've returned me to my mother for a profit. It would've been so easy - I was exhausted and without magic. But they didn't. They took a chance on kindness and risked their lives to keep me out of Undeta’s clutches. I don't think I can ever repay them for that. They gave me the gift of freedom itself."

Djek: "Ok, so you can't tell him I said this, but Sepo is the one who's done probably the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me. We were in an abandoned dwarven temple, interrogating - or trying to interrogate - a cultist. Twenari and Sepo.... They're not really cut out for delicate chit-chat like that. So you know what Sepo did? He took a step back and said I should handle it. Said I was the best man for the job. Me! I know, right? I've never been the best man for any job in my damn life! He trusted me to do it, and to do it better than he could. Everything was riding on getting info outta this lady, and Sepo trusted me."

.

Well, these were fun! Very good questions 👍

I'll tag @elsie-writes @kaylinalexanderbooks @jakkon-and-rose-topic @scribble-dee-vee @steh-lar-uh-nuhs and anyone else who wants to play :)

Your questions are:

What's a childhood fear you had?

What's in your pockets?

Ever considered therapy?

[hunter-hero-nerd]

Bathroom Confessions

Prompt: “I would love to hear those words in any other place than this bathroom, holding your hair back.” Pairing: Dean Winchester x OC!Female Hunter (Olive O'Hara) Warnings: Nothing major, alcohol, sex mentioned, flirty fluff A/N: Hey y'all This is my first fic in a while, so please be kind! This is a one shot featuring my oc, Olive O'Hara. I have plans to make a series with her. So if you like this, be on the look out for that!

The Olive O'Hara Chronicles Masterlist! Main Masterlist!

The Impala buzzes with excitement as the three of us make our way to the bar Dean had spied up the road. I tug nervously at my dark wash denim skirt that is just a tad too short. It has been too long since I’ve gotten any, if you catch my drift, and I am out to play tonight. The hunt had gone way better than anyone, Sam especially, thought would go. So, when the older Winchester nearly demanded that we all go out for a celebratory drink, I said yes when I normally would say no. It’s painful to watch Dean flirt with any random girl and take her home. 

My crush on Dean, I always thought, had always been hidden until one night, a very drunk Sam proclaimed that it was very evident to him. So, after that I decided to stop putting myself in a situation for jealousy and giving my crush away to the Winchester that shouldn’t ever under any circumstances know. As cliche as it sounds, his friendship means way more to me than any stupid crush. 

But tonight, I am going to take a huge step in getting over someone… by getting under someone else. Some townie at the bar would have to do to give me the spark to give others a try. “And here we are! Some random bar! But, who gives a shit as long as they have booze!” Dean cheers from the driver’s seat as he puts the Impala in park in front of said random bar. 

We all climb out of the car and I catch Dean eyeing me up as I straighten out my skirt. “You dressed up tonight. Lookin’ good.” He winks seductively then offers his arm playfully. My stomach flutters but I take it as I know that’s how he is. He playfully flirts with most people. Really Sam is the only one who’s safe.

“Well, maybe y’all will be a man short going back to the motel tonight. If I’m lucky.” I say with some faux confidence in my voice.

“You really gonna go home with some rando?” Dean says, stopping us short. Is that jealousy I hear?

“C’mon, you do it. And plus, I’m not your average girl. Remember? I haven’t been a civilian since I was 18.”  I look up at his face and see it semi-relax, but he still doesn’t seem happy. He drops the conversation and leads us into the bar. His energy shifts and smirks down at me. 

“Who wants a drink!” He says and gets Sam and my drink orders and goes off to the bar. 

“Look, an open pool table. Wanna play?” Sam asks me with a smile. He knows I know he can beat me any day of the week, but he loves to torture me. And me being the friend I am, I oblige with a wave of my arm ushering him to lead the way. He racks us up as Dean came back with their beers and my vodka Red Bull.

“Here’s your girly drink.” He says with a smirk as he hands me the drink. I take it and chug at least half in one swig. “Better slow down! I ain’t holding back your hair if you get sick. You’ll have to get your rando to do that.” I roll my eyes and then place my drink on the high top table we had claimed. I pick up my cue and saunter over to the pool table.

“Ladies first.” Sam proclaims as he removes the rack from the table. I set my shot up and break the balls evenly throughout the table. I even sink one.

“Solids.” I call, proud I have a chance to out run Sam’s impeccable game.

“Finally getting good!” Dean cheers from the sidelines. I roll my eyes and line up my next shot. It just so happens to be in front of Dean and I have to lean over a bit. I flip my way too long hair out of my face. I need to cut it but every time I think about it I get upset. So, I like to let it grow as much as I can. “Liking this view, sweetheart.” I hear Dean say and I’m thrown off my game. I miss the shot terribly, and hear Sam’s roar of laughter.

“Guess it’s my go!” He cheers as he sets down his beer and surveys the table. I head back to the table and chug the rest of my drink.

“Want me to help you with your next shot?” Dean quips flirtatiously. I smirk before replying.

“Only if you buy me another drink.”

Many, many rounds later, I am drunker than I have ever been in my life. Dean and I have been playing this back and forth that has completely distracted me from my goal of getting over him. As I finish another drink, the room begins to spin. “Maybe let that be your last one, sweetheart.” Dean says as he catches me sliding off the edge of the bar stool.

“M-you’re probably right.” I say slurring my words. I grab his shirt to try to stabilize myself and look up at him as the world fades around me.

-Dean’s POV-

Olive has been killing me all night. The way she’s dressed, the way she’s carrying herself, the way she’s just existing. It makes it hard for me to not get sucked in and try to avoid all feelings for my fellow hunter. When I saw her down her first drink I knew she was in for a night. She never holds her liquor well and usually once she starts drinking, she turns into a fish. So, how could I let this woman that I cared for get shitfaced and go home with some rando to do god knows what? So, I glued myself to her hip. 

Olive starts slipping from her bar stool and I instinctively catch her and slide her back on. “Maybe let that one be the last one, sweetheart.” She mumbles something I can’t quite hear in return and grabs a hold of me. She looks up at me and I see her glassy brown eyes try their best to focus. “Oh, you’re trashed.” I joke as I feel a genuine smile appear on my face. She mumbles again. “What’s that?”

“Dean, I don’t feel good…” Her voice is small and almost embarrassed. 

“Okay! Bathroom!” I say without a second thought, scooping her into my arms and carrying her to the single bathroom. We’re barely in the room when she rushes to the toilet and pukes up all the vodka she’d been drinking. I follow her and sweep her long ebony hair out of the way. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” I shush as I rub circles into her back with my free hand. She starts to relax and come back to reality.

“I’m sorry…” She whispers as she sits back a little, wiping her mouth.

“Don’t start with the I’m sorrys. Once you start, you don’t stop, Drunk Oli.” She looks up at me with her beautiful eyes.

“I love you, Dean. Like. Love you love you.”

“I would love to hear those words in any other place than this bathroom, holding your hair back.” I say as I sweep a few stray hairs away from her face. She whines drunkenly.

“You don’t understaaaand.”

“It’s okay. You can tell me in the morning.” I laugh and help her to stand. “Let’s get you back to the motel.”

[hungry-tum-stuff]

Thank you for responding! I suppose you wouldn't mind indulging in a few more questions regarding your characters, I love them and find them interesting, both from a kinky and design standpoint! 1) What are their favourite foods? How much do they allow themselves to indulge? 2) Has there been any moments where characters are flustered by the other's belly or tummies in general? After knowing each other for a while, have they grown to being more comfortable with more personal stuff? 3) How do they deal with a particularly prolonged session of being starved or stuffed, either alone or with somebody else? 4) Let us know, do you have any specific fantasies that you like to imagine with your characters, OC or otherwise? 5) If you had to pick one, and there are no repercussions, which character do you want to see in real life? What might you wanna do with them? 6) Can I give belly rubs to your characters? :3

Haven’t checked my asks in awhile, but I’m gonna tackle this one!

1. What are their favorite foods? And how much do they allow themselves to indulge?

🦊 - Azeban likes things with a lot of different and interesting textures, and for a long time that was just meat. But once he’s introduced to regular food it’s all over. He’s found he likes stew the best, it does a great job of filling his belly and it can be prepared with so many different ingredients! He will take any chance he can get to stuff himself to the gills if he’s presented with a pot of stew.

🖋️ - Cecil has pretty high standards when it comes to food. He’s partial to any kind of shellfish though: Scallops, clams, shrimp, he loves seafood! He hardly ever gets to indulge in such a luxury anymore, but even if he got the chance he probably wouldn’t stuff himself the same way Azeban would. He’d eat until he’s content, even if he really wants to eat more.

🧶 - Lumen’s favorite food is tricky. Obviously there’s only one thing they can really indulge in until they’re full, but they’ve found that they adore Jonah’s baking. Cookies, muffins, cakes, they’re just such a welcome change of pace from meat. They indulge in Jonah’s cooking every chance they get <3

🥧 - Jonah loves starchy, carb-rich foods. He can’t resist anything with bread or potatoes. And he certainly isn’t one to hold back when it comes to sitting down and enjoying a meal: if he’s sitting down to eat he’s going to eat.

2. There’s less getting flustered by someone else’s belly but instead getting flustered by their own tummies. Cecil gets incredibly embarrassed whenever his stomach speaks up, he thinks the noises are impolite and that’s not helped by the fact that Azeban has very sensitive ears. Thankfully Azeban doesn’t care much about politeness. Lumen is also quite embarrassed by the noises their tummy makes, only because they’re so loud. Azeban and Jonah could care less about the noises their bellies make, they just continually worry about their friends getting enough to eat.

3. How do they deal with a particularly long session of being starved or stuffed, either alone or with someone else?

🦊 - Azeban does not handle being hungry very well. Despite having to hunt and forage for every meal, his appetite is big enough that going hungry for more than a day really saps his energy. It heightens his senses and makes him hunt better of course, but that doesn’t make the ache in his gut feel any better until he actually catches something. He is perfectly content being stuffed however, it is not often that he gets to experience a truly full tummy and he relishes every moment when he gets the chance.

🖋️ - Similarly to Azeban, Cecil is awful at dealing with hunger. He’s not used to going hungry for any prolonged periods of time, and he finds that he mentally and physically shuts down when he’s starved. He also gets pretty whiny. He’s not any better when it comes to being stuffed though, he hates the sensation of being too full that it makes him nauseous, so if he’s full for a prolonged period of time, he will also not be enjoying it :(

🧶 - Lumen, of course, is used to prolonged stretches of starvation. That’s just everyday life for them. That doesn’t mean they like it though, and they absolutely hate the exhaustion that comes with the starvation. But unfortunately, being full doesn’t bring much respite either, because when they give in and ‘eat their fill,’ they only feel guilty.

🥧 - Jonah used to be able to handle going hungry. He didn’t grow up with much, and starvation isn’t a new feeling to him. Now that he’s older and more spoiled however, he finds that it’s much harder to miss a meal and not get grumpy. As a result, he also really enjoys the feeling of being full. Being overstuffed is no big deal to him, because he knows he can just sleep it off until work in the morning <3

4. See my writing masterpost :3 That’s pretty much in line with my fantasies for these guys

5. Azeban, just so I can give him a big ‘ol hug and tell him I’m sorry for all the tragedy I’ve inflicted upon him 🥺

6. Absolutely! They definitely need it <3

[idyllic-affections]

Hi there! So thank you for your feedback about Kokoro. Im glad you her since she is my sweet bby （＾∀＾） .Kokoro is one of my more recent OCs that i have, so im still making her, which is why i thought asking a feedback but after reading your feedback, yeah you’re right. She’s my OC, someone i love and makes me happy, i shall do whatever i want with her! Which is make her have a happy life ^_^ (and make her unintentionally torment Gorou, she lives with Yae Miko for god sake) I also decided to let Kokoro have a hydro vision, while there are many points that i like with Kokoro having a dendro vision. Something about her having a hydro one feels right idk why tho :p (but she would actually get along with Nahida really well, crap now im reconsidering, guess it’s back to the drawing board then (⁠ب⁠_⁠ب⁠) ) why must i be so indecisive about an fictional character’s element (⁠ノ⁠ಥ⁠,⁠_⁠｣⁠ಥ⁠)⁠ノ⁠彡⁠┻⁠━⁠┻

Also PLEASE DO HONKAI STAR RAIL IF YOU EVER GET THE CHANCE TO DO SO, the found family in this one is STRONG. Like there’s the Astral Express which is just (≧∇≦). I wont spoil anything so you can enjoy it firsthand but the ideas and potential for platonic stuff is HIGH

Also im honestly excited and scared for Fontaine with how the trailer set the plot. Lynette’s death!?!? Lyney’s ARREST!? CHILDE’S ARRIVAL!?!?! What in archons name is going on!?!?? I honestly feel bad for Freminet since 1. His sister is “dead” 2. His brother is the suspect and possible murderer of said sister’s death. Really not a good time for him huh? Also can i talk about Navia for a second? I love her. She just gives off Chaotic good vibes which she probably has. I first thought she was gonna be like a phantom thief character but then the 4.0 trailer came out and there are security guys with her which now makes me think she is some sort of bodyguard for hire??? I just love her and i like to imagine her lovingly teasing my Fontaine OC for her famous pastries (i might talk about her here, so keep an eye out for that)

(Sorry for the many “also” btw ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ)

- 🐱 Anon

hi again dear!!!

yes!!!! do whatever makes you happy!!!! and indecisiveness is totally okay, too. you can switch backk and forth until you feel completely content! there's nothing wrong with changing up details and whatnot. you'll eventually settle on something that feels right <3 for me personally, i often go through many phases where i change important character details. it's usually while i'm writing their backstory or just their story in general that something seems to click in my brain, and all of a sudden, i have decided on the detail i wasn't sure about.

I GOT INTO HSR YESTERDAY ACTUALLY i am having so much fun with this game... it's so pretty??????? the characters are so dynamic????????? genshin feels so flat compared to hsr which is interesting to me, but hopefully hoyoverse takes steps to fix that lifeless feeling that genshin has sometimes in-game! or maybe i'm just burnt out? who knows! either way, i love hsr. it aligns with my interests so well.

CHILDE IS MR. WORLDWIDE HE IS EVERYWHERE AHSKSJSJGJFJ tbh i cannot WAIT for fontaine, i am so so so excited to see what this archon quest has in store.

i'm thinking about making a fontaine oc myself actually. lawful evil to lawful good kind of vibes, like.... they're evil-aligned at first but slowly change for the better once they realize how much they are hurting their beloved people. character development <3 but i would love to hear about yours, so i will definitely keep an eye out!

(and no need to apologize!!! i do that too sometimes <33)

[rhynerd]

Y'know what, I'm gonna try to answer all of these myself for one of my own OC's who I've only got a few notes, this sketch (and another page of sketches I'm still working on but I don't have a picture of that), and a lot of brain time for:

🍇: Going off the meme, the Fighter. Otherwise, she's not often the one to initiate activities (unless her friends are also coworkers) but she'll be encouraging them and helping plan them.

🍉: Jewellery? no. She tends to forgo that stuff outside of special occasions. Although she does always wear a rather nice neck scarf.

🍋: There was somebody she was close to, probably even loved. She never knew how much trouble they were win until she found them dead.

🍍: In one of two places: Somewhere that's hers and would require a small explosive to break into, or somewhere personal to someone who trusts her dearly.

🍎: She has her father's eyes and her mother's curly hair.

🍑: Someone kind, compassionate, and good at seeing the nice things about this world. Although it'd probably be smart if she was somebody who could look out for herself.

🍒: There was probably some guy in high school she dated for a bit. He was probably the last guy she ever kissed.

🍓: Likes caramel and a fair sum of floral scents, and saltwater is probably about as pleasant as a week-old unclean ashtray to her.

🍆: Oh, she's a cuddler.

🌽: She doesn't mind a bit of flirting and other minor acts, and the cuddling's already been mentioned for more invested affairs, but the biggest sign of love is being able to trust her with something you'd demand most other folks take to their grave, and not for any business reason.

🍰: If you got what it takes to make it far in the world of business then you probably don't wanna be in her line of sight.

🎂: Lot of folks tend to mistake her for either a modern day femme fatale or a cheap punk. They're always surprised by how caring and generous she can be. That, or they notice something's off about her in a way like "when was the last time this gal took a breath?"

🍪: Her original jacket was. Unfortunately it was destroyed but she keeps a copy or two to preserve the memories tied to the original.

🍩: I suppose on average she'd violate laws against donating to pan-handlers more often than the rest, but she is ostensibly a mercenary so chances are she's better remembered by law forces for more violent crimes.

🍫: I imagine she'd have a desk or table she'd stand around like she's plotting a heist when she needs to think.

🍾: She's become open to believing a lot of things, luck included. Thing is, she's not a strong believer in luck being something easily shifted by rituals.

🍷: She doesn't like drinks that need to be shaken up first and never likes it when somebody pops open a wrapper.

🍹: I imagine there could be two. The first involved a car chase. The second was at a carnival or state fair.

🍻: If it's just one of those days, perhaps she'll just try (with a heavy emphasis on try nowadays) to get some sleep. If not, one things she likes to do to let off steam is grabbing a friend, some caramel-filled chocolates, and watching a dumb movie that she can crack jokes about with the friend. Then again, that's if the day was just a lot. Sometimes a day goes bad in a way that the only way to get back to normal find something okay to destroy and ruin it.

🥃: I think she'd probably be a fan of Katie Gately. Might also like the Garages and Pussy Riot too, but she prefers more hard noise in her music (and chances are I'll need to find a band with harder noise to change this answer too). It's hard for her to choose a favorite book or show.

🍕: If possible: hang out with friends. If not, then she'll probably just go somewhere to kill time or read a book.

🍔: I don't think I have enough knowledge of recent trends to give a good answer to this.

🍟: Admitted: Trashy romance novels in a language she's trying to learn/keep in practice. She does have a worry that her real guilty pleasure is a penchant for violence. Fortunately, I think her real guilty pleasure lies in pranking people with minor scares.

Odd OC ASKS

🍇: What sort of friend are they? Where are they in the group dynamic?

🍉: Does your OC have a particular piece of jewellery that they always wear or refuse to part with?

🍋: What is your OC's most painful memory?

🍍: Where does your OC feel most comfortable?

🍎: Do they share any features or traits with any family members?

🍑: What sort of traits does your OC look for in a Significant Other?

🍒: Has Your OC had their first kiss yet? If so, with who?

🍓: Does your OC have any particular scents they like? Or hate?

🍆: Does your OC have any favourite form of affection, physical or otherwise?

🌽: How does this OC feel about acts of affection? What's their favourite act of affection, physical or emotional?

🍰: What's something your OC counts as unforgivable?

🎂: Has your OC have any contradictory interests or traits to the first preception people have of the? How do they surprise people?

🍪: What is something that's sentimental to you OC?

🍩: What's a crime your OC is most likely to commit? What's a crime they're most likely to get arrested for?

🍫: Where does your OC go to think?

🍾: Does your OC believe in luck? If so, do they have any charm or ritual they do before a stressful event?

🍷: What's one of your OC's pet peeves concerning food?

🍹: Does your OC have any funny anecdotes told about them?

🍻: What's your OC's favourite comfort ritual? How do they calm themselves down after a rough day?

🥃: If your OC was in this universe, what would be their favourite show/book/band/social media platform?

🍕: How does an OC spend a lazy day?

🍔: Are there any recent trends you think your OC would hate? Or love?

🍟: What does your OC admit to be their guilty pleasure? What actually is their guilty pleasure?

[lolliputian]

Write what you fucking want!

A few days ago, I reblogged a post where the OP talked about how we went too far in the direction of "write what you want." At the time, I understood what they were trying to convey, but, the longer I think about it, and the more I talk about it, the more I realize I disagree.

You absolutely should write what makes you happy and here is why:

I've been in fandom spaces on and off for twenty-five years. I come from a background where if you wrote anything that wasn't canon compliant, you were attacked. Let's not even get into the treatment of OCs. You're not gonna make everyone happy. Write what you fucking want.

Fanfic is harder for people to consume these days. (Personally speaking, I've had trouble concentrating on reading since early COVID.) Chances are high that people won't be reading your work not due to quality but because they cannot sit and focus. Or, it could be because what they're interested in reading is different than what you're interested in writing. Write what you fucking want.

The argument in the post from what I recall was not being afraid to talk about ideas, to bandy them back and forth with mutuals. This is a great idea. I love getting feedback from readers or friends, especially if I'm stuck. This is also not what I think of when I say write what you fucking want. What I think of is people who are more focused on writing what they think others want to read to the detriment of what they want to do. While writing for other people is nice, it's very obvious when you're not passionate about what you're writing. IMO it's also making yourself small in the hopes you make someone else happy. You can't control whether someone else is going to like your work, but you can control if you like your own. Write what you fucking want.

In conclusion: Write what you fucking want, because you'll be happier for doing so, and you're going to create a better work for it.

[spnexploration]

Brotherly Figures

Part 2

Series summary: (Early seasons) Sam and Dean save a 15 year old, newly orphaned teenager from vampires. Much to their chagrin, she ends up tagging along on hunts, giving them both a fresh chance at acting like a brotherly figure.

Series masterlist

Part 1 <- -> Part 3

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Ava (teen!OC)

Episode summary: Ava and the Winchesters deal with the vampires, but Ava struggles to deal with returning to her new life.

Word count: 1.3k

A/n: This fic hasn't had much love, but I already wrote a few more parts to it so I figured I may as well post them. Feedback is more than welcome!

“When I say jump, you jump,” Dean lectured. “Don't wait to ask how high and don't even bother with why, you just do exactly what Sam or I say, understand?”

I nodded.

“I'm gonna need a bit more than that, kid,” he grumbled.

“Ye-ESS,” I sassed at him. “I get it, do as I'm told.”

“You wanna show attitude, fine. But you do not do it during a hunt.”

I swallowed. “Ok,” I said quietly, looking at the floor.

“Good.”

We went over the plan. Sam had worked out the general vicinity of where my mother and the other vampire had gone, but couldn't pinpoint. The best plan to stop them hurting someone else was to draw them to me; to use me as bait. Sam had argued against the plan, but conceded that we didn't have a better one.

I was sitting down, fiddling with the knife they'd given me. Dean crouched down in front of me. “Are you sure you want to do this, kid?” he asked gently.

I found my voice. “I'm sure. I can't let them hurt anyone else.”

Dean stood up, then put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it gently. “Alright, let's go.”

---

It was a blur. Somehow, they'd found more vampires to team up with, so rather than the 2 we were expecting, there were 4. The Winchester boys had fought tooth and nail, but somehow in the melee my mother had still managed to sneak up to me and bite my neck again. Dean had quickly beheaded her with an upwards strike from in between our bodies, right in front of my face.

I shook violently. I'd lost my knife early on in the fight, unable to swing it hard enough or with enough conviction for it to be useful. I wrapped my arms around my body and felt the shock set in.

Sam pulled me into a hug. The vampires were all dead, and the 3 of us were covered in blood. I bawled against his shoulder.

“It's ok, it's over,” he said reassuringly. “You did great. It's over.”

I continued to shake. I could tell Sam was mouthing to Dean over my head.

“How about we get back to the car?” Sam asked. I slowly nodded. “Can you walk?” he asked. I nodded again. He turned me around and wrapped an arm over my shoulders, leading me back to the car.

Dean pulled out my bag of clothes at the car. He passed Sam a towel who gently cleaned up my face. They encouraged me to get changed, and turned around while I did so. Then I climbed in the backseat while they cleaned themselves up.

They eased themselves into the front seats and closed the doors. Dean turned around to me, “You ok, kid?”

“Yeah,” I said, somewhat shakily. “It was just a lot.”

He nodded. “You did good, and it's over now.” He turned back to the steering wheel and started the car. “Alright, next stop, hospital. Let's go over your cover story.”

“Wait, what?” I asked, confused.

“Telling them you are kidnapped by vampires is probably not going to go well,” Dean said, not turning around.

“You’re leaving me?” I asked, quietly.

“Sorry Ava, we have to move on to the next monster,” Sam said kindly, looking back at me. “I'll give you both of our phone numbers in case you ever need us.”

“Oh, ok.” I felt shattered, like yet another person was leaving me, even though I'd only just met the brothers yesterday. I suppose it was one of those trauma moments, that you want to stay with your rescuers because you feel safe. Even though with them I’d just nearly been killed by vampires, again.

---

The next few weeks sucked. I told the hospital my parents and I had been attacked by a bear, and I’d only just gotten away, but both of my parents had died. I didn't have any other relatives, so they put me in the foster system. I was assigned a group home, and bullied. Everyone at school acted like I was different; I didn't fit in any more.

And I couldn't stop thinking about monsters.

I couldn't look around me without thinking ‘are any of these people vampires? Are they something else?’ I was paranoid, looking over my shoulder constantly. I bought a small knife and kept it with me at all times, practising using it. Then the foster people found it and it was confiscated and I was punished.

I bought another one.

I had one thought. The only place I’d truly felt safe was in the back of that old black car, with the Winchester brothers.

I was going to find them.

---

I messaged Sam a bit, asking how things were and where they were. He was usually cagey about their exact location, but he would give general info. I googled, looking for likely cases they might be following.

One night, bingo. A case in a town only a 10-hour bus ride from here, and a message from Sam that almost perfectly confirmed they were there, if you knew what you were looking for.

I packed my bag. I pocketed my knife. And I got on that bus.

---

It wasn't hard to find the right motel, with Dean's unique car parked out front. It was night and I was wearing a black hoodie with the hood pulled up. I went over to the car and got out my length of wire to use to jimmy the lock open. Just my luck he'd actually closed the windows this time.

I had fed the wire down the window but not managed to unlock the door yet when I heard the click of a gun and Dean's voice, “You sure picked the wrong vehicle to jack.”

I turned to him.

“Ava?!” he asked once he could see my face. He lowered the gun. “What the hell are you doing here?”

I bit my lip, suddenly shy. But then I remembered what I wanted to be and I steeled myself. “I want to join you,” I said.

Dean looked at me incredulously. After a few seconds he sighed, “Come inside.” He led me to his and Sam’s motel room.

“Guess who I found trying to steal my car,” Dean deadpanned as he walked in.

“Ava?!” Sam exclaimed when he saw my face. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

“I want to join you,” I said with a little more courage and conviction than I had managed outside.

“The answer is obviously no,” Dean said firmly.

“Ava,” Sam said more gently, “You have your whole life ahead of you. You don't want this.”

“Not to mention that this is dangerous and amateurs get killed,” Dean continued, arms crossed.

“I lost my normal life the instant those vampires took my family. I'm in a hell-hole foster home and I can't relax, I can't stop looking around me for every monster. Fighting them is the only thing I can think about. Besides, you must've been amateurs once too and someone taught you. You can teach me.”

“I ain't no babysitting teacher,” Dean growled. I stood my ground.

“We wouldn't wish this life on anyone,” Sam said. “You have choices, Ava, you have a future. You don't get that when you're a hunter.”

“I'm just going to keep finding you,” I said, arms crossed and glaring. “Or maybe I'll just set out on my own.”

Dean and Sam awkwardly shared a bed, so I could take the other one. I could see they were struggling to both fit, but I appreciated the effort. I slept better than I had in weeks, knowing the two hunters were near.

Dean groaned, rubbing his hand down his face. I could tell the only thing worse to him than an amateur he had to train was an amateur by themselves, getting killed. “Fine, you can stay the night. But we will continue this conversation in the morning,” he warned.

[talesofstyles]

Reconcile II

Ok so I know that I wrote the first part with reader insert, but after many, many attempts to keep it that way, it just didn’t work with this one. So I’d like for you to meet Emma. This is my first time writing with OC and wow game changer. I love her and I hope you do too!

Also, I honestly can’t thank my beta queens enough @oh-honey-styles @for-fucks-sake-h 🥺💛 thanks for allll the comments and suggestions and nice words!!! ily both xx

Read part I here

Harry

“So… are we okay now?”

We’re sitting here on the sofa, finally having that very much needed father-daughter date. Granted, a movie night in was not what I had in mind. I wasn’t too thrilled when she said she wanted to just go back home after we dropped George at his classmate’s house for a birthday sleepover. I thought she would hole up in her room instead and ignore me. But she didn’t. I got us pizza for tea, and we’ve got Shrek 2 on the telly. Her animosity towards me disappeared just like that after she asked for a puppy the other day. Of course, I’m glad to have my happy-go-lucky daughter back, but deep down I know that we need to have a proper chat. The change in her behaviour is so abrupt that I know there’s a chance that my daughter is still bitter with me deep down. And that won’t do. I can take a lot of things, but my daughter’s resentment is not one of them.

“Yeah, we’re okay,” she nods as she takes a bite of her pizza. “You’re still getting me a puppy right?”

“I still need to talk to your mum about it, poppet,” I tell her. “Puppies need a lot of attention. It’s going to be hard work and that puppy is going to be a permanent member of our family. We’ve really got to think about it before we decide.”

I expect a little excitement knowing that her mum and I are really considering getting a puppy. But what I get is quite the opposite. My little girl’s gaze drops, her face slackening. Her voice cracks a little when she mumbles, “except… we’re not a family.”

I wince, realising how serious the effect our split has on my daughter. Despite Emma and I putting on a friendly, united front for our children, Minnie is still sad that her parents are not together. 

“Of course we’re still a family,” I assure her, pulling her to me for a comforting side hug. “I’m still your dad, mummy is still your mum, and you and George are still the lights of our lives.” 

“But you and mummy aren’t together anymore,” she points out bitterly. “And you live so far away from us now. I miss having you at home.”

“I know, my love,” I murmur gently, and turn sideways so she can see my face. “It’s killing me too. But you never know what the future holds, right?”

“I guess,” she says glumly.

I wish I can tell her that I’m trying to win her mum back so we can be together again, but I know I can’t do that. This is far too early. I don’t want to get her hopes up in case I’m not successful in convincing my wife to give me another shot. That’ll only break her heart all over again.

Thinking back, I realised that this is the first time we have a proper chat about our split. I fled to LA the next morning after my wife asked me to leave our marital home back in London, leaving her to sit down with our children to tell them that I was not going to live there anymore. I was shocked and angry because I had no idea what I’d done. I thought we were fine. There were no fights leading up to that. I still remember exactly what I told her. ‘You’re the one who wanted to end it, you tell them.’ And then I left.

Just like that. Without a fight.

I swear to God, it’s something that I would never be able to forgive myself. 

“How’s your mum?” 

“She’s sad,” Minnie sighs. “She cries a lot. She thinks we can’t hear her in the shower, but we can.”

Knowing I caused that physically hurts. I rub at the throb of pain behind my breastbone and I think about all those private tears I shed through it. The ones you hope are hidden and silent.

“Can I ask you something, daddy?”

“Anything, poppet.”

“Do you still get sad too?”

I’m not sure how much to divulge here. Does my daughter need to hear that I stopped eating? That I once cried in the loo at Cafe Habana, and once had to be fished out of a bath by Jeff after I turned into a human prune? I was sad. I still wear that hat. 

“I do. It’s the end of something, that’s always sad.”

“I think mum is dating someone,” she says and my eyes widen. “She told us Luke is her friend, but I think he’s her boyfriend. They’re on a date now, aren’t they?”

I can try and deny it, but I know my daughter is smart and won’t buy anything I tell her.

“What do you know about boyfriends?” I tease, my attempt to lighten up the mood. 

“I’ve just turned nine, I’m not stupid,” Minnie rolls her eyes. “‘Sides I’m thinking about getting one of those boyfriend thingies.”

I sit there slack-jawed, and my daughter roars with laughter.

“Minnie Alexandra, you’re going to drive me to an early grave, you know that?”

“Hey, what are you middle naming me for? I was joking!” She says, still laughing as she picks a piece of pepperoni off her pizza.

“How do you feel about your mum dating again?” I ask her.

She pauses. “I don’t know yet. As long as he’s nice and doesn’t put me under the stairs…”

“I’m sure he won’t. In the attic maybe,” I joke.

She laughs again. I’m thinking about keeping that bloke in the attic so my wife won’t date him anymore. Or even better, six feet under my patio. That’ll do.

“It’s gonna be okay, right, dad?”

Honestly, I’m not sure. But I don’t have the heart to tell her that.

“Yeah, Min. It’s gonna be okay.”

***

I see the headlight shining into the front windows as I walk down the stairs from tucking my daughter into her bed. That must be Emma and her date. I pull back the curtain a little to peek outside, and I’m right as I see that bollockface’s car in front of the house. 

You know that saying; curiosity killed the cat? Well, in my case, curiosity fucked me with a chainsaw. 

I’m a bloody idiot. I should have just closed the curtain back as soon as I recognised the car. I mean… it’s the end of a date. What did I expect to see? A high five? I knew I was so sure when they left that he would not be getting anything more than a friendly kiss, but that date must have gone really well, because right now, my eyes may as well fall out of their sockets as I see that bastard’s tongue down my wife’s throat. 

I’m frozen. I’m gripping the curtain so tight that my knuckles are turning white. I stand there—stunned. Watching. I’m not even sure for how long. It does feel like forever. Like an eternity. 

In hell.

And then Emma pulls back, and everything seems like a blur. I have to remind myself that my daughter is sleeping upstairs so I won’t go apeshit and knock that wanker square on his arse. 

I’m still glued to the floor by the door. I’m too shocked to move. I hear the sound of keys rattling before the door swings open, and she looks surprised when she sees me.

And all hell breaks loose.

“What the fuck, Emma?!” She jolts at hearing me shout. I rarely did it. In fact, I’m not even sure if I’d ever yell at my wife before throughout our marriage. “You told me last night you’d never even kissed him. You told me you weren’t ready.”

“I- I don’t know. He caught me off guard. That was-”

“I told you I wanted to make this work,” I remind her, trying to lower my voice so I won’t wake my daughter up. She doesn’t need to see this. “Us. Our marriage. I told you I wanted to fight for you. But I can’t do that with someone shoving their tongue down my wife’s throat, can I?���

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I see her tear up and I immediately feel regret. That was harsh. But before I can apologise, I can see her lip curls up and I know she’s about to get nasty. It’s a rarity with her when we’ve fought in the past, but I feel it coming.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” She sneers. “You think that if you put a toy down, it’ll still be sitting there when you want to play with it again.”

“That’s-”

“You have no right to be upset at me. We’ve split up for nearly a year now. What I do and what I don’t do on my dates is none of your business.” 

“I want us to give our marriage another shot,” I say in exasperation. “I want to try to win you back, but fuck’s sake you’re not even giving me the time of day.”

“Oh, look how the tables turned,” she taunts. “Sucks, innit? Being the one struggling to find the time when it seems like the other doesn’t give a crap?”

“Cheap shot, Ems,” I retort.

“Truth hurts, doesn’t it, H?” 

Emma averts her eyes, her lower lip quivering. I can’t tell if she regrets her harsh words or not, but she doesn’t look back my way, and she seems to have said her piece.

I knew sooner or later this was bound to happen. We never had our big fight, not even that night when she decided that enough was enough.

“I cannot possibly go through that again. It physically hurts,” she says softly. “I know I was the one who ended it, but when you just left like that the next morning without so much of a fight as if ten years means nothing to you… that really did hurt. You left me alone to talk to the kids about what happened. And sure, you did call every day. But it took you nearly nine months to finally come and see your children?”

“I needed some time. Some space,” I tell her. “Do you think it’s easy for me being there? Away from my wife and kids?”

“You chose to be there.”

“You know I couldn’t stay in London,” I murmur. “It’s too hard. At least in LA sometimes I can just pretend that everything’s okay. That we’re okay. That my wife and kids will be there waiting for me when I get home. I can’t do that in London.”

“That’s a shit excuse and you know it,” she mutters.

“I still love you, Em,” I say with a sigh. I know trying to defend myself further for what I did will get me nowhere. “We can fix this. We can be a family again.”

“Harry, it’s too late.”

“Is it him?” I can’t help but go there, because that’s a possibility. “Do you love him already?”

“Luke is a fresh start for me, H. I may not love him now but at least it doesn’t hurt looking at him. It took me months to be able to get back up again, to get to where I am right now. To finally find a little bit of peace.”

Emma’s head hangs low, and she rubs at her temple with her fingers. I want nothing more than to pull her into my arms. But by how stiff her spine is, I can tell she wouldn’t come willingly. 

“I’m sorry, Emma,” I whisper, resigned. Tears well up in our eyes. There’s nothing I can say that will change her mind because we’re not seeing eye to eye. She’s still focused on the past, not that I blame her because I did hurt her badly, but I know that there is no way we can go anywhere if she can’t see past the harms I’ve caused in the past.  “I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me.”

“I’ve forgiven you a long time ago,” she says, her expression softens. Her thumb runs at a part of her finger where a ring used to be. “Now, I just want us to try and make this separation work. Focus on the kids. Let’s do the right thing by them.”

I nod.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“When did it all start?” I ask, my voice cracks a little. “When did you start feeling like you’re invisible to me?”

“I’m not sure I can point down to one exact moment,” she takes a shaky breath and pauses. “The change was gradual that by the time I realised it, I didn’t even recognise us anymore. I spent days and nights wondering what happened to us. That wasn’t us.”

I wipe that one tear running halfway down her cheek, and as soon as my thumb touches her skin, I lose it. I can’t help it by this point. Tears flow as much as I try to hold them back. She’s crying too. This is painful. 

“And it’d be too easy to say that I felt invisible,” she continues. “Because the truth is, I felt painfully visible. You ignored me on purpose. I wasn’t even sure what I was to you anymore, because the only chance for me to get your attention was by getting you in bed. And that was wrong. It hurts, because it felt like you only needed me to warm your bed.”

I want to deny that statement. I want to yell it’s not true. That I never intended to take her for granted. That she still makes my heart skip a beat like a bloody teenager seeing his first crush. 

But I don’t.

Because she’s right. I’m not sure what happened either, but we’d changed. Maybe it’s our jobs, maybe it’s the endless responsibilities. Domesticity, children, they wore us down. Kisses became perfunctory. Hugs became less frequent. Hell, I couldn’t even remember the last time I took my wife for a date night other than for social obligations.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her again. I’ll spend the rest of my life apologising to her if I have to, she deserves it. “I hurt you badly. I really am sorry, Emma.”

“It wasn’t all you though,” she mumbles. “I never called you out on it.”

“You didn’t,” I reply. “I never worked out why?”

“I swept it under the carpet because it was embarrassing. It felt silly having to ask for your attention. And I don’t know… pride, maybe? And the kids. I didn’t want them to know something was wrong. So I played along and carried on like nothing was happening.”

“When really…”

“It was like a punch to the guts each time. You were an excellent father. You still are, the kids adore you. This may sound insane and it’s embarrassing and painful for me to admit this, but there were times when I saw you with the kids and I couldn’t help but feel jealous. When you couldn’t even be bothered to look at me… it felt like you took a dump over all my love for you.”

“Emma…”

“I wish I could get past that. I wish I could just forget what happened and trust you again.” 

I bring her in for a hug and say nothing. She needs to get this all out. This is part of the process, and I’m here to listen. 

But where do we go from there?

Reconciling a broken marriage is tricky. I am not a violent person but I have never wanted to strangle people as much as I want to strangle those who wrote articles with countless advice regarding this subject, making it seem like it’s easy. Talk it out, get your point across, and you’re out of the dog house. Well, you know what, bollockface? It turns out that listening is not enough. Sod you and your dumb articles. 

All I know is that I can’t rush this. She’s not ready, and that’s okay. Right now, we both have things to work on. She needs to learn to let go of her resentment, and I have to learn not to take anything and anyone for granted ever again. This is killing me, but there is no one to blame but myself. I take solace in knowing the fact that I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. Maybe one day we’ll be back together. Maybe we won’t. 

“Thank you for telling me all that,” I mumble against her hair. 

“Thank you for listening,” she looks up and gives me a sad smile.

***

Emma comes from a big family. 

There’s Jamie, her eldest brother and the only guy. I think the fact that he grew up surrounded by sisters was what made us the closest in the first place. He hates wine, even though he makes a career out of managing his own vineyard. I know, the irony. The next is Suze, sister number one who lives in Sheffield with her husband and three girls. Suze and her husband are both orthopaedic surgeons. Then my wife, the middle child. Then Meg, sister number two who just had a baby. It’s another girl so my George is still the only grandson in the family. And then Lucy, the youngest of the clan who’s still in university. 

They all live nearby, and I knew that all my in-laws hated me a tiny bit for taking their daughter and sister away. They were a hard outfit to infiltrate. You don’t enter into a relationship with one of them, you get a whole gaggle of them. It was hard to get in, but once you’re in, you’re in for life. 

After we’d split, I called my parents-in-law the next morning just before my flight to LA. I wasn’t sure whether or not Emma had told them about what happened, but I felt like it was the right thing to do. After all, they’d become my parents too for a decade. So I explained and apologised. Of course, I didn’t tell them the details because I knew they were between Emma and me, and they respected us enough not to ask. They were upset, but they also understood that these things happen in life. All they wanted was just for their grandbabies to come out of this unscathed. 

Now here I am, walking behind Emma and our children as we step over the threshold into her parents’ home for their monthly roast. Her parents invited me and I accepted. I don’t want to turn down any extra time I have with my kids as I’ve decided to leave today and head back to London. I was prepared to stay longer, take some time off work and fight for my marriage, but since it all has gone to pot, I figured I should leave. The world doesn’t stop even when you’re struggling with marital woes. I’ve got work to do, and I also know that it is best to give Emma space. 

I hear voices as we walk inside.

“If littl’uns are going in highchairs then what’s that extra space for?” I hear Meg’s husband say.

Meg tells him. “Count again, addition was never your strong point.”

“Oh.”

The house is suddenly quiet when they see me. This is my first time seeing the whole family again after we split, and even though my parents-in-law and I are on good terms, and Jamie too, I know the sisters would be a different story. All four of them are beyond close and they’re now looking at me as if they should’ve chucked me in the oven instead of the chicken.

You don’t do that to our sister. You hurt one, you hurt all of us. 

“Uncle Harry!” Freya shouts in excitement. She is one of Suze’s daughters. She and her twin sister Tessa are only a few months older than my George.

Suze, who is sitting on the sofa, looks a bit sullen, not knowing what the right call is to make. Meg and her husband freeze. 

“Alright there, mate?” Jamie greets me, trying to ease the tension. Suze glares at him.

“Are you here to do magic then, Uncle Harry?” Tessa asks. 

I bend down to her level. “Not sure I know any magic, Tessie.”

“Yeah you do!” Freya pipes up. “Because when we were driving here, daddy said you did a disappearing act on Aunty Ems. Show us what you did!”

“FREYA!” Her dad barks.

Meg can barely contain her giggles.

“But we like magic. You’re rubbish at magic,” she says to her dad. He widens his eyes. 

The sisters are now all smiling smugly, knowing a couple of six-year-olds just shamed me on their behalf. Extra roast potatoes for those two.

Lucy, the littlest sister, suddenly enters. That’s definitely not a happy face. “Oh, it’s you. Is that why everyone went so quiet? What are you doing here?”

“Luce,” Emma mutters.

“Because I invited him,” says a voice emerging from the kitchen. My father-in-law. “Harry, glad you could make it.”

“Of course,” I reply. “Thanks for the invitation.”

Lucy stares daggers at her dad, knowing she can’t unleash her trademark rapier wit as she’s surrounded by her little nieces and nephews. That one may be the youngest but she’s the scariest out of all the sisters, my wife included.

“Look, if it’s weird, I can just leave?” I offer.

“Nonsense, you must stay for supper,” Emma’s mum replies.

“Yeah, Harry, stay,” says Emma’s dad, staring at his daughters. “I want you lot to be nice. Otherwise, I’m putting you on the kids table. You hear me?”

The three of them nod in unison. 

“You two look well,” I say, my attempt to make small talk. 

“You know, dad’s been singing this morning,” Emma’s mum chirps, tilting her head towards her husband. “He joined a male choir. They think they’re Westlife.”

We all can’t help but laugh. This is classic mum. The tension seems to ease away. 

Let’s just hope it stays that way.

***

There’s a strange feeling of déjà vu as I take a seat on the steps in front of the cottage. 

I’m all packed up and ready to go. My weekender bag is in the boot of my car. Nothing left to do but say goodbye to my wife and kids, but I don’t go straight inside. 

Not yet. I need a moment.

These steps witnessed a lot of our marriage even though we’d never stayed here for longer than a couple of weeks at a time. We loved to sit out here in the summer. I remember when I first brought my stuff here shortly after we got married, we sat out here with beers, sleeves rolled up, boxes stacked into Jenga-style columns. 

I also remember sitting here last year on Christmas morning. Emma and I were both in our pyjamas and slippers, sipping coffees out of our matching Christmas mugs. We watched the kids ride their new scooters up and down the street. Everything was perfect. I had no idea that my marriage would end in just two months after that.

“Harry?”

I look over my shoulder and I urge her to sit beside me. She comes over and does just that. There is silence. We don’t say a word to each other. A quiet hum of traffic in the distance, puffs of breath cloud the air making me think we should both be wearing coats. Christmas is nearly here again. My heart aches at the thought of this being our first Christmas since everything fell apart.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly.

“I should be the one apologising, Em.”

“I know you wanted to work things out,” I hear the sadness in her voice. “I really loved you, you know that, right?”

“I do,” I nod. “Our marriage, all those years… it wasn’t all bad, though, right?”

“Of course,” she quickly replies. “We had our moments. We have Minnie and George.”

We pause, letting that sink in. In all this mess, those two were and remain everything, some symbol of our marriage not being a complete disaster. 

“There were also times when you were a good husband,” she adds.

“Why do I feel like you’re going to pat me on the head?”

Emma laughs under her breath.

“Your new bloke seemed a nice sort,” I tell her, because it’s true. I may hate the guy with a burning passion, but that’s only because he’s dating my wife. 

“He is.”

“That got legs?” I ask her.

“Possibly.”

“I want you to be happy, Ems,” I tell her. “With or without me.”

“Harry…”

“But I also want you to know that I’ll be waiting for you. No rush, no timeline. I’ll wait for as long as it takes. Because for me, it’s either you or no one else.”

The front door opens and two little faces pop out from behind it.

“What are you doing out here? It’s freezing!” Shouts Minnie.

“Well then come here and give me cuddles to warm me up,” I tell her.

Emma and I take a kid each. She takes George and lets him entangle his legs in hers, cradling himself into the hook of his mummy’s arm. Minnie uses me like a climbing frame. I bop her on the nose as I’ve done since she was a baby, and I like that it never stops being hilarious to her. The sky starts to dim, trees casting shadows onto the pavement. A house down the road has some festive lights that switch on and flicker on and off in strange syncopated patterns.

“This is nice,” Minnie mumbles. “I miss the awesome foursome.”

“The awesome foursome, huh?” I ask.

“That’s what you used to call us,” I hear the sadness in her voice and my heart aches. I know she feels this all a lot more than her little brother. “I still remember.”

“Do you really have to go again, daddy?” George looks at me with sad puppy dog eyes. 

“Yeah, do you?” Minnie asks. “I love having you here.”

“I do, my loves,” I reply sadly. “Be good for mummy, alright? I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“I don’t like seeing you go,” George mumbles.

The emotion is a little unbearable and I see a tear trail down my wife’s cheek. George looks petrified seeing his mum cry. 

“Don’t be sad, mummy.”

“I’m not sad,” she shakes her head, quickly wiping the tear off her cheek. “I’m just sorry daddy and I couldn’t make it work.”

“Did we do something wrong?” George asks, looking at his mum and then me.

“Oh, mate,” I reach out to cup his face, Emma pulls him into a hug. “Of course not. You didn’t do anything wrong. You two are perfect, you hear me?”

“Do you still love each other?” Minnie asks.

Emma looks at me in the eye as she answers our daughter. “I’ll always love your dad, because he gave me both of you.”

“And I’ll always love your mum,” I say, my eyes pinned on my wife. “No matter what.”

Emma

“So… tell me, he a good lay? He looks the sort to have some girth.”

I probably should have warned you beforehand about this sister of mine.

Lucy is my entertainer sister who has done every job going alongside studying. She went to dance school, spent six months on a cruise ship, has been an extra and once did a two-month stint in Les Misérables. On weekends she dresses up as Disney characters and does kids’ parties which means she owns a lot of wigs and always has glitter in her bra. She’s the fun one. I keep her close because as much as I love my other siblings, this one has been a good entertainment through my separation. Mum suggested for her to live with me for a couple of weeks when I first moved back to the Peak, and I’m so glad she did. It was around the time I lost a stone and would spend most of the time napping, crying and staring at the wall, surviving on cups of tea and Rich Tea fingers. She couldn’t cook or clean and she used all my shampoo but she brought some light into the house when grey clouds threatened to consume it. She was also a great distraction because I could live vicariously through her tales of going to gigs and clubs and hear how she’s not slept and got her boobs out for reasons of fun and frivolity.

However, when you talk to her, she always goes there. She’s brash and has no conversational limit. She thinks her purpose is to not only feed me but also revive a pretty dead sex life too. Actually, it’s not just her. After my husband and I split, my sisters think it’s their job to pique my interest in men again. Luke happened after a boozy Chinese takeaway about two months ago when I joked that a spring roll was the most phallic thing I’d had in my mouth for over half a year. I remember a dumpling rolled out of Meg’s mouth in shock, so Suze decided to play the matchmaker and introduced me to Luke who worked at the same hospital with her.

Tonight, we’re having another takeaway night since my parents have all the grandchildren for the weekend. Bless them for entertaining that crew of children we seem to have acquired over the past nine years. We have seven between Suze, myself and Meg, and I just hope that my parents are well stocked with wine. They will need it. 

We all sit around my dining room table with the remnants of a KFC bargain bucket, a selection of Thai food, a giant bag of chips and some battered sausages. I’d admit that we were already a little drunk to buy food sanely. Luke is also here, I thought it’d be nice to give my sisters the chance to get to know him. And it doesn’t take Lucy more than thirty seconds after Luke gets up to take a phone call before asking such questions. 

“I don’t know? I haven’t slept with him yet.”

Lucy looks at me in confusion. “But you’ve been on dates and stuff?”

“We did have a cheeky snog last week but we’re taking it slow.”

“What are you waiting for? Just go shag him. Erase the memory of that wanker?” 

“Hey, he’s your niece and nephew’s father,” I chastise her for calling Harry names. “Don’t call him that.”

“Why don’t you want to sleep with Luke?” Meg, my other sister asks me. “Lucy is right though. He’s really tall, I bet he’s VWE.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Very well-endowed.”

I chuckle. “Honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

Meg giggles and places her head on my shoulder. 

“Last time I had sex was on Valentine’s Day, girls. Do your maths. The next day, my marriage collapsed.”

Both of them huddle into me like penguins. 

“Which is why you just need to get over yourself,” Lucy remarks. “You need to remember what sex is like. It’ll be fun and make you feel good. If you don’t want to do it with Luke, you can have some taster session? I’ve got a uni mate who’d shag you.”

“Lovely. No.”

Lucy huffs. “You’re so boring.”

“Honestly, Em, Luke is fit. Seems like a nice fella, and he genuinely likes you. I’d have a go on him if I weren’t married. You should just do it,” says Meg.

“Yeah, you could shag him tonight,” Lucy adds. “Meg and I can piss off out and then…” 

Then she does a strange rave-style dance as she thinks of her plan coming together. Luke returns from his phone call and Lucy jiggles in her seat. Don’t you bloody dare. 

“Luke, we need more wine,” says Lucy. “There is not enough and we thought you could walk down to the shop and get some?”

Meg and I look at each other for a second, wondering what our sister is up to. 

“Sure, yeah, I could get wine,” Luke replies. “Any other requests?”

If she tells him to get condoms in then I will skewer her with a chopstick.

“Anything you might fancy or need?”

She’s walking an incredibly thin, thin line. 

Luke gets up to retrieve his coat and grazes my hand as he does. This move doesn’t go unnoticed by Meg and she gives me a sly wink. I hand him my keys and he heads for the front door. Meg stares Lucy out.

“Seriously?” She says.

“We need to prepare you if you’re going to sleep with him.”

“Like mentally?” I ask.

“Like have you had a tidy? This will be your first time. You’ll need to at least tidy up the flaps and do a bit of topiary.”

“LUCY!” I gasp and laugh at the same time, holding my hand to my face. Who is this woman? How can you raise five children in the same house and come up with such a random entity?

She stands up and heads for my kitchen drawers, rifling around until she pulls out a pair of scissors.

“Show me your bush,” she orders.

“Lucy! I prepare food with those scissors.”

“And we’ll wash them?”

Meg is in hysterics as she sees this scene unfolding in front of us.

“I’m not getting my bush out in my kitchen.”

“You’re so dull,” Lucy complains. “I’m trying to help here. What are your pits like? Shame there’s no time to tackle your upper lip.”

I put my hand over it instinctively. “I’ve got a moustache?”

“Well, you’re not Tom Selleck but it could do with a bleach.”

“You’re being cruel now, Luce,” Meg giggles. “But I think we do need the comedy of seeing Lucy trimming your bush in the kitchen.”

I stand up reluctantly and unbutton my jeans.

“Ha!” Exclaims Lucy. “You’re wearing nice knickers, you knew this was going to happen. Just peel them back a little and let me have a look.”

“Be quick for fuck’s sake. This is something that no one needs to see.”

“Do you want a shape?”

“What?”

“Yeah, like a heart? It’d be cute.”

“No!”

Meg roars with laughter.

“I’ll just trim the length then,” says Lucy. “Meg, put your hand out.”

“Do I have to?”

“Don’t you love your sister enough to at least hold her pubes?”

I’m not even sure what’s happening here. One sister is very close to my private regions with a sharp object and I hear the creak of metal as she shears away. The other collects the trimmings in a napkin in her palm. This feels like an opportune moment to ring Suze, our other sister, and start a FaceTime chat. That time we all took one for the team so Emma could reclaim her sex life.

“Thanks, Luce.”

“You don’t say this enough I feel.”

“We really don’t,” says Meg.

“Want me to look at yours, Meg?”

“I’m good.”

“What if he’s into weird stuff?” I ask.

“Like?”

“I don’t know… maybe like choking? Stuff like that.”

“Well, no one breaks out all the moves on their first time,” says Meg but Lucy gives us a look like she begs to differ.

“And I’m not on anything. I stopped the pills months ago. What if I get pregnant?”

“That’s what condoms are for?” 

They both give me a look that says I am not fourteen and that I should have an inkling about how reproduction works and the preventative measures that I can put in place to stop myself from getting pregnant. 

“How do I initiate it?”

“Maybe you could dance for him?” says Luce mockingly. “You’ve both had a drink, let it just happen. Planned sex is the worst kind of sex.”

“I planned nothing. You’re the one who’s got the kitchen scissors.”

“I’m done, anyway. Not my finest work but then at least he’ll be able to find it?”

Meg laughs again as she goes to the bin with her napkin of pubes. I do my jeans up and sit at the table, downing what’s left in my glass. What if he can’t get it up? Or worse, what if he doesn’t like my boobs? I have modest boobs. They wouldn’t win any competitions. What if he wants better boobs?

“You’re overthinking,” says Meg.

“I haven’t got any condoms.”

Lucy reaches inside her handbag, pulls out two packets of johnnies and hands them to me. How far ahead has she planned this?

“Any other excuse?” Lucy asks.

“Look, tonight, just get naked with the fella, have some bloody fun. Enjoy yourself.”

I hear the key go in the latch of the front door. That was quick. Crap. Luke enters the kitchen with two bottles of red that I immediately feel guilty about as I’ve got a rack of it in the utility room. He also carries a few packs of crisps and takes the kitchen scissors that were on my table.

“No!” I stop him. “Those need to be washed.”

He looks at me in confusion and I love that he puts them in the sink without any further questions asked. He rips opens the packet of crisps with his hands instead.

“Crisps?”

Lucy grabs a handful of crisps before she grabs her phone, pretending to read some texts. “Bollocks! Meg, we forgot about the party.”

Meg quickly plays along. “Oh yeah, crap. It’s that birthday party, innit?”

I feel awful. I’m sending the sisters back out into the cold so Luke and I can have the house to ourselves. They both keep winking at me which is more down to the fact that they’ve had at least a bottle of wine each for themselves tonight. Luke stands at the kitchen door while I wave everyone off. This feels weird. 

“Have fun, kids!” Chants Lucy as she shepherds Meg away from the house. I shut the door.

And then there were two. I turn around and Luke is no longer at the doorway. I tiptoe into the kitchen to find him stacking plates. 

“Shall we tidy up now?” He asks.

“It can wait.”

My phone on the table lights up with an incoming text. It’s Lucy. Don’t forget to adjust your tits. Make sure they’re facing forwards. Show a bit of bra. 

Does this mean my boobs are not always facing forward? Where are they looking? This isn’t helping at all. I ignore it.

“Alright,” Luke says with a smile that makes me feel relaxed but also on the faint side of nauseated. It’s probably first time nerves. Is it weird that I’m thinking about the cleanliness of my bedroom? Did I pick up yesterday’s bra from the corner of my room? Do I remember how to go down on a man? What if he doesn’t fancy me?

Sometimes I can’t help but wonder whether my marriage ended with Harry because I was terrible in bed. Maybe I wasn’t attractive enough. I’ve had kids, parts of me are stretched and doughy. Maybe I didn’t provide what he needed. 

In the last year of our marriage, I think it’s safe to say that I was mainly the one to initiate things between us and my success rate wasn’t 100%. There’s this nagging thought in my head that maybe even on those nights I succeeded, those were just pity shags.

You know what, sod it. 

I grab him by the collar and kiss him. He stumbles a little but then lets his body fold into mine. I can do this. Crap. He’s lifting me up. He sits me on the counter and I’d like to say the moment overtakes but there’s red wine inches from my arse so I move the glass with my hand whilst still kissing him. We’re kissing. This is weird. It’s different. It’s not my husband’s lips. Why am I thinking about my husband’s lips? 

I shake my head, banishing that image. Harry doesn’t belong in this room with me right now. 

I feel his hands in the small of my back and then he lifts my jumper over my head. I’m in my bra. Don’t overthink it. Oh, the bra is off. My nipples are out in the kitchen. I run my fingers through his hair as he trails kisses down my neck. Is it weird that right now, at this very moment, all I can think about is that his blond, floppy hair looks like a golden retriever?

I gasp and push him away involuntarily when his mouth wraps on my nipple. This is wrong. This feels wrong. I thought it was just first time jitters but now I think this is deeper than that. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, looking concerned.

I grab my jumper and quickly put it back on. “I… I’m sorry, Luke. I can’t. I have to go.”

“Emma, I’m sorry,” his face reads panic. “Did I read the signals wrong? I thought you wanted this. I feel terrible. I’m so sorry.”

“No, please don’t apologise,” I say hastily. “You didn’t. I did want this. Or so I thought. It’s just… I’m not ready. I don’t think I’ll be ready any time soon. Or ever.”

“What do you mean? Are you breaking up with me?”

I have to be straight with him. I take a deep breath. “I want to give you the opportunity to walk away. You’re a good guy, Luke. I just don’t think it’s fair for me to string you along if we can never progress.”

“Is it your ex-husband?”

He’s still my husband. But I don’t say this out loud. 

“He told me that he wanted to give our marriage another shot about two weeks ago when he was here,” I tell him. “I did say no right away. I didn’t think it was a good idea. But…”

“Is it really?” He asks. “You two have a lot of history. Two kids. Why wouldn’t you give him a chance?”

“I’m worried.”

“And what are you worried about?”

“My heart?” I say quietly. “I don’t want to go through that again.”

Luke smiles at me through sympathetic eyes. “Listen to me, Emma. I’m not a cardiologist, but I know that the hearts are the strongest organs in the human body. They can go through anything.”

What happens next feels like a blur. All I know is that by midnight, I’m already halfway down the M1, on my way to London. 

Harry

It was a knock on the door that woke me up.

When I first open my eyes, I’m disoriented. I don’t know what time it is, or how long I’ve been asleep. Then I realise I’m on the sofa, and it’s still dark outside. It’s also raining. I walk towards the door and open it, just in time to catch a figure going down the steps, which doesn’t take me more than a second to recognise. I am in complete shock. Is this real? Is that really my wife, standing in front of my door in the middle of the night? Or are my eyes deceiving me?

“Emma?”

She stops on the pavement and slowly turns to face me. She’s spooked through—her jeans moulded to the curves of her legs, the sleeves of her jumper dripping, her hair flat, lips slightly tinged with blue.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” she says. “Don’t know what I was thinking.”

I open the door wider, and my voice is drowsy and deep when I say, “Come on, let’s talk inside.”

She takes a step back instead.

“I just… I wasn’t thinking. I’m here. I don’t know why,” she sounds genuinely bewildered—even a little panicked.

“Are the kids in the car?” I ask her and she shakes her head. The wind blows, spraying ice-cold drops across my bare skin where my shirt hangs open. “You’re shivering, honey, come inside.” 

She stares at me, so many emotions swirling in her expression. She’s like a skittish kitten who can’t decide if she should let the stranger pat her head or haul up the nearest tree. It breaks my heart.

“I don’t think I can.”

So I go to her. 

The rain is cold and hard, soaking my shirt. Her eyes dart from the pavement, to my chest, up to my eyes and back again, like she’s ready to bolt—but her feet stay glued.

I lean in so she can hear me through the rain. “Do you remember the first time we went to Paris together? When we were young and crazy enough to only rent one electric scooter for both of us, and we rode around the city at night?”

The corners of her mouth tug up a little. “I remember.”

“But then I was going way too fast and we hit a rock, and both of us went flying. I didn’t want to ride anymore the next day, because I was afraid you’d get hurt. Do you remember what you told me?”

“I said…” she begins, her eyes meet mine. “I said we had to keep riding. Because it’s the only thing that made falling worth it.”

I nod tenderly and hold out my hand. “I’m not going to let us fall this time, Emma.”

Her eyes are back on the pavement. “I’m not sure-”

I know she still doesn’t trust me. I know that sadness on her face and how it penetrates so deeply. I know she’s probably better off without me, the bastard who crushed her heart and soul and took her for granted for years. 

We shy away from the things that hurt us. But that’s what scars are for. They protect the wounds. They cover them with thick, numb tissue so we’ll never have to feel that same pain again. The scars that my wife has inside? They’re tough. 

I beg when she continues to stare at my hand, “Please, just come inside.”

Slowly, tentatively, her hand slides into mine. 

And we go in out of the rain.

I take her upstairs to the bedroom that used to be ours. Her teeth chatter as she sits on the edge of the bed. I throw a blanket over her shoulders, rubbing her arms, sliding down to cup her hands. 

“Shit, you’re freezing. How long were you out there?”

“A while. I was walking… thinking.”

“Just some friendly advice. Next time you go a-wandering, stop and buy an umbrella.”

Emma shivers as she laughs. I pull the blanket closer around her and rub her back. 

“So… you gonna tell me what’s this midnight adventure about?” 

Her voice comes out soft and wavering in the dark room. “I was with Luke.”

“Did he do something to you? I’ve watched enough crime documentaries to pull a perfect murder.”

She shakes her head and chuckles. “We were having a takeaway night. Meg and Lucy were there too, but then they left and there were just the two of us and-”

“Please spare me the details,” I beg.

“Nothing happened. I just… I couldn’t get through it. Your face kept popping out in my head and I knew that if I went all the way through, we’d lose our chance. And I didn’t want us to lose our chance. I know this is completely the opposite of what I said to you two weeks ago but it’s true. I wasn’t ready then and maybe I’m still not ready now, but I don’t know about the future and you said you’d wait for me and…”

Her words trail off and my chest clenches with that sublime mix of excitement and trepidation. Of wanting something so much it’s like every cell in your body is stretching, reaching for it, yet there’s a grey shadow of worry that you might never get to touch it.

“Oh, Ems…”

I cup my hands around hers and blow into them. Another shiver vibrates through her. 

For a moment we sit there in silence. Memories of us in this bed come flooding back. Of the kids piling in here bright and early, and us having cuddles and catch ups over the week just gone. Of the two of us and that sacred half an hour we had together before we go to sleep. Where we could have a proper chat without little voices interrupting us every few seconds. Sometimes we’d read together too, and other times when we just couldn’t be arsed, we’d simply spend that half an hour scrolling through memes and having a laugh together.

“You’ve got to get out of these wet clothes,” I say gently, with absolutely no teasing suggestion. We’re right on the precipice. I can feel it. And I have to tread so carefully, because one wrong move could send her away, truly lost to me.

I peel my soaked shirt off and let it drop to the floor. Her eyes move, trailing over my shoulders. I stand and slowly unbutton my jeans, leaving me in black boxer briefs. 

Her eyes follow my every move, looking at me.

I push the blanket off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. I grasp her jumper at the bottom and lift slowly. I wait for her to push me away but she doesn’t. She raises her arms instead. I pull the jumper over her head and it lands with a plop on the floor. I remind myself not to enjoy the view. I’m trying hard not to look.

My chest rises and falls as rapidly as hers. I sink to my knees in front of her and reach out for the button of her jeans. She lifts her hips and my fingertips graze her skin as I slide them down her thighs, leaving the white lace knickers in place. 

“Get under the sheets,” I whisper and she does just that.

She scoots to her side of the bed, and I slide beside her. Without a word, she snuggles into my side. The cool feel of her flesh is a shock at first, but in just a few moments, my heat chases away her chill. Except for her feet. I practically jump when she runs one up my calf.

“Yer a bloody ice cube!”

She laughs kind of evilly. 

We face each other, almost nose to nose. Her hair still drips at the ends and a drop trickles over her collarbone, down her chest, and I’ve got to take a deep breath—because I want to lick it off her so badly.

“Talk to me,” she says softly.

“I’m taking time off work.”

“But you never take time off work?” 

“I’ve got a lot to make up to the kids,” I tell her. “So I told Jeff to bugger off for at least until after New Year.”

I see her smile in the dim light.

“I’m gonna stay up with my mum,” I add. “I’ll only be an hour away from you lot.”

This is something that I’ve been mulling about. If I really do want a chance with Emma, I need to move up there because absence does not make the heart grow fonder. That may be true in secondary school when you went away for the summer. But in marriage, especially in a broken marriage, absence separates people. It creates distance. That’s the opposite of what you’re trying to achieve. You want the closeness back.

My wife’s palm runs over my bicep—tentatively at first—then with a surer touch. “They’d love that.”

“Also, you remember my old mate Stu?” She nods. “We got in touch just earlier today. He’s got a litter of puppies and he offered one for us. I told him I need to talk to you first. So what do you think?”

“A puppy, huh?”

“A puppy.” 

“I think that’s a good idea,” she says. “But I’ve never had a dog though.”

“I can train it first at my mum’s?” I offer. “I’ll get it all settled. Then when it starts sleeping through the night, I’ll bring it over.”

“Does it make me a terrible mum for wishing we had that kind of service when the kids were newborns?” 

“We had that service. It’s called sending them to the grandparents.”

We both laugh, and when the laughter dies down, we’re silent for a few minutes. The thrum of my heartbeat jacks up as her hand continues to stroke my arm. 

“Harry?” Her voice is the barest whisper, like she’s checking to see if I’m asleep. 

“Hmm?”

“I… I’ve missed you. So much.”

And I’m done.

The need to kiss her, to touch her, has been pulling at me like a raging current ever since I saw her on the front step, and with those few words, I let the current take me. 

***

Numerous studies have shown that having sex extends the human life span. At this rate, Emma and I are going to live forever. We probably slept twenty minutes max throughout the night and I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve done it. I’m pretty sure the last time we did something like that was ten years ago on our honeymoon. 

We’re sitting at the breakfast nook. Her hair mussy and she’s wearing one of my T-shirts. She looks freshly fucked, which I know to be true, and I reckon she’d be ready to crawl back into bed with me if I just crook my finger. But I don’t do that. Because this, us, sitting here in the morning sunlight, playing footsies under the table while we talk over coffee is all I’ve been dreaming about every morning.

“What are you thinking about?” She asks when she catches me looking.

“You,” I smile. “You look perfect.”

“No, no more,” she shakes her head frantically. “I won’t be able to walk.”

“You dirty lass, I was trying to be romantic and all that,” I can’t help but snort in laughter. “And you always do that… rebuff any type of compliment I try to give you.”

It’s true. If I tell her she looks beautiful, she waves a dismissive hand at me. If I compliment her mind, she blushes. Even an appreciative look from me has her turning shy like a schoolgirl.

When she doesn’t respond to me, I continue to poke at her. “Why is that? Why does it embarrass you when I tell you that you’re smokin’ hot?”

She wrinkles her nose at me. “Because it’s weird. I feel like you just have to say that.” 

She pretends to go through one of her old magazines from when she still lived here. I reach across the table and bat at it, causing one side to pull out of her hands and reveal her entire face to me. Now she’s glaring. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

And I grin when I see red stain her cheeks.

“And you’ve got the most gorgeous body. I take one look at you naked and I can’t help but get rock hard.”

“Stop it,” she blusters, now blushing all the way down her neck.

I change tactics, but I know this will embarrass her just as much. “You are the most amazing woman. Kindest, genuine and grounded. Funniest too. And you’re the best mother for our babies.”

“Okay,” she snaps at me as she closes the magazine and slams it down onto the table. “You’ve made your point.”

Chuckling, I stretch back in my chair and nudge her foot with mine under the table. “You’re adorable.”

She rolls her eyes, which I find to be beyond adorable. 

Standing up from my chair, I walk around the table and hold my hand out to her. She willingly takes it and stands when I give her a tug. It’s a natural move for her, to walk straight into my embrace and press herself against me. I tilt my head and kiss her on her jaw. “It’s something you need to get used to… compliments from me. It’s never going to stop.”

She moans softly in my ear.

“Want to know what else you’re going to have to get used to?” I whisper as I kiss my way down her neck.

Her fingers come up, tangle in my hair, and fist tightly. “What’s that?”

“My face between your legs.”

***

Some people might not put Quaglino’s into the romantic restaurant bracket, but they’d be wrong, very wrong. In actual fact, it’s quite hard to top. The interior has this 1930’s romance charm with candlelit tables, dark-panelled walls and an adjoining room for dancing to the soft tunes of the piano man singing bluesy versions of classic songs. 

Tonight, I managed to convince Emma to go out to dinner with me before she goes back to our babies. I insist on driving her since I don’t want her to drive alone at night again, which she initially refused but finally agreed.

We finish our dinner and split a slice of cheesecake for dessert. Probably not my brightest idea since I keep having to readjust myself because seeing her slowly swallow a mouthful of white, creamy concoction is a pure kind of torture. But I try to kick those dirty thoughts out of my mind and focus. 

Since last night, we’ve successfully managed to avoid the talk. It feels like we’re in a bubble where everything is perfect and we’re just scared to burst it, but I know this can’t go on. Emma and I need to have a proper chat if we want this to work.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“You and I need to talk, don’t you think?” I begin. 

“You’re right,” she nods. “So…”

“What is this?” I gesture between us. “Are you ready to give us another shot?”

“I think so,” she nods. “But I want us to take it slow.”

“You set the pace,” I assure her. “I want this to work more than I want anything else in my life. So I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

“We’ll see this as a new dalliance,” she adds.

I know this is supposed to be serious so I try hard not to break into laughter. “Okay. I will court you but I won’t ask you to move to an estate in the country. Not right away at least.”

“I’m serious.”

“You sound like Austen.”

She rolls her eyes. “And we can’t tell anyone either.”

“I agree,” I tell her. “And from now on, we talk to each other, alright? I’ll try to make you happy the best way I know how. But if it’s not enough for you, then you need to tell me.”

She nods, but then her graze drops before she asks. “You really do want this right?”

“I told you I want this to work more than anything else in my life.”

“It’s just… when you first told me you wanted to fight for our marriage, I was overwhelmed because it was all so sudden. You told me everything I wanted to hear. Even at that moment, everything in me screamed for us to just fall back into it all the way. But there was also a part of me that thought you were just lonely, and maybe you thought that us getting back together was the answer to it.”

“Not true-”

Emma holds up her hand. “Maybe not true, but it’s my fear. That’s why I kissed Luke that night, because I was desperate. I wanted to push things with him because I knew I’d never love him the way I love you. I knew that if things went to pot, I wouldn’t be half as devastated. But with you? I don’t think I can survive that type of heartbreak again, H. You don’t know how much it killed me to end our marriage. I can’t afford to fall back into something that’s not going to last.”

“Emma,” I reach across the table to take her hand. “I can’t even imagine how hard it was for you. I know for sure it was not a decision you made lightly, nor on a whim. I wish I had fought you on it then… had fought for you then. There was a time when I thought our marriage was over, and I was going to let you go. But I’m not going to do that now. If it takes you weeks, months, hell, Emma… if it takes you years to fully trust my devotion to you, I’m in this for however long it takes.”

Emma nods, biting into her lower lip. I can see her eyes starting to water because every bit of this is overwhelming. She turns her head towards the music floating in from the other room. It’s a Van Morrison cover, Crazy Love.

“Wanna dance?”

The request takes me by surprise since this isn’t like her. But I toss my napkin on the table and move to stand next to her, holding out my hand. The simple delight on her face when her hand slides into mine is everything.

We step out onto the edge of the dance floor. I wrap my arm around her lower back, holding her tight and flush against me. One of her hands rests on my shoulder, playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. The other is clasped in mine just over my heart. We sway, eyes pinned at each other for a few moments.

“Thought you hate dancing?” I smirk.

“Still hate it,” she answers. “I’m just using it as an excuse to be closer to you.”

She sighs, practically sinks into my arms. Emma’s head fits against my chest like she was made to be there. My chin rests against her hair.

“Emma?”

She lifts her head from my chest. “Yeah?”

“You don’t need an excuse.”

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love… 

***

“What the-”

“Oi!” I yell, quickly pulling the duvet over my wife and I. “Heard of knocking?”

“Heard of a bedroom lock?” Lucy challenges.

Last night, we drove up the M1 straight from the restaurant. We took breaks in deserted services with shiny floors and bad lighting where we had coffees and wandered around WHSmith bulk buying sweets even though it’s really not that far. But you can never have too many travel sweets, can you?

And now, here we are, back at the cottage. The kids are still at their grandparents until this afternoon so Emma and I are enjoying the benefit of having the house all to ourselves by having a morning shag. That is until one of her sisters walks in on us. I’m very aware that I’m still inside Emma.

I pull out, roll over to lay down next to my wife, and we both stare at Lucy who is dressed from head to toe like Princess Jasmine from Aladdin.

“Party?” Emma asks her sister. We both try not to giggle as she sashays in to look at herself in the mirror then perches on the bed in her harem pants. Today, she’s gone heavy on the winged eyeliner and shows off a flat midriff. I quite like the pointy silver shoes though.

“No, Tesco,” she says dryly. “Obviously a party.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask her. 

Lucy glares at me. “What are you doing here? Besides rearranging my sister’s guts, of course.”

I don’t even flinch. I’ve been married to Emma for ten years, I’m used to this sister of hers.

“I’m trying to win your sister back,” I say earnestly. I know that Emma and I talked about keeping this a secret, but she literally walked on us shagging. There’s no point in denying it. It’s best that she knows my true intention rather than thinking we’re divorced with benefits.

“Eh, about time,” she replies nonchalantly.

“Luce, please keep this to yourself for now,” Emma begs her. “This is still new.”

“I will,” she nods. “Just a friendly reminder, though, Styles. If you hurt my sister again, I won’t even think twice before starting a business selling voodoo dolls of you. Bet I could make a fortune of that.”

In their girl gang, Lucy is the wildcard, the likeliest to carry a shank. I don’t even laugh because she could be serious. 

“Duly noted.”

“What are you doing here this early?” Emma asks her sister.

“I wanted to ask if I can borrow that giant tiger in George’s room?”

“Feel free to borrow the rug in the front room as well,” I cackle.

“Ooh yeah,” Emma chirps. “Are you going to find a whole new world?”

“Have you got your Aladdin?”

She pulls a face at our mocking. “My mate who’s supposed to be Aladdin is sick so I asked Jamie to fill in and he agreed because he owed me a big favour. But this lot changed their mind and wanted a genie so now I have to go to Jamie’s and convince him to let me do a full blue body paint on him.”

Emma and I roar with laughter. “Please, please, please, take some piccies.” 

***

A month later…

I can only imagine the joy on my children’s faces when they open the door. I’ll be standing there with the pup in hand, but I know I’m practically vibrating with excitement myself. I glance over at the little dog crate that we’d prepared to transport him in. It’s a sweet, nine-week-old Bernese mountain dog. He’s pretty chill, curled into a round ball, but he’s not sleeping. His eyes are open and alert, as if he’s just waiting to find out what’s around the next corner.

The back of my Range Rover is loaded with two boxes of food, dog toys, bowls, a leash, and appropriate treats. Since I’m still crashing at my mum’s, that will go to her place for when the kids and this puppy come to stay. Emma has an identical list at her home, already purchased and hiding until we hand the puppy off to the kids.

I’ve got a feeling that today is going to be a good day. All morning, Emma and I texted back and forth. Some of it was practical, like making sure we agreed on all the dog rules we’d lay down with the kids tonight. Some of it was lighthearted teasing. Some of it was dirty.

I can’t remember the last time I texted my wife throughout the day just for the hell of it. I had fun with it, and I know without a doubt she had fun with it too. Which made me realise what a twat I’d been for never doing something as simple as letting her know she was on my mind in just such a way. 

Pulling into the drive, I cut my headlights so the kids wouldn’t see me approach. I shut the engine off, quietly get out of my side, and press the door closed quietly. On the other side, I open the passenger door, then spring the latch on the dog crate, and this tiny little puppy totters straight at me with tail wagging.

I lift him in my arms. I shut the door and then move over to the patch of grass. I put the puppy down so he will go potty before I bring him in. When I was a kid, we had a dog called Max, but I sort of grew up with him so I didn’t remember when he was a puppy. And Emma never had a dog before, so we’re sort of winging it with this puppy training thing. But I don’t fret about it. I mean, we’ve had babies, they’re harder than this, surely? 

I patiently wait for this little fella to do his business, which includes a few minutes where he attacks my shoelaces and tugs. Shite, he’s cute. 

Eventually, he sniffs around, tail high and then abruptly squats to pee. I thought boy dogs lift their legs when they pee but maybe not at this age. I immediately bend and give him praise with an upbeat, positive tone that makes him excited. Who’s daddy’s clever little fella? You are! Yes, you are! You did well, mate. That was brilliant! He puts his paws up on my shin, accepting my stretches with tail wagging and tongue lolling out the side of his head. My kids are going to fall in love with this little guy. 

I scoop him up in my arms when he’s done and make my way inside. But instead of entering from the front door, I circle the house so I can enter from the back, knowing they must be all in the kitchen as this is usually the time when the kids would do their homework for next week. Walking past the window, I see that I’m right. Emma is at the kitchen island with George next to her and Minnie on the opposite side. My heart starts beating faster at the thought of spending the day with my family—and apparently our new third child in my arms—and I find it almost shameful I have such excitement over it. Shouldn’t I have always been this excited? Or is it normal for things to just settle, and we take them for granted?

I shake that thought off of my mind. I had this important talk with my wife a couple of weeks ago about how we shouldn’t focus on the past. We’re both committed to repairing our marriage, and for it to work, we both know we must commit to living in the present. Because at the end of the day, the present is all we have.

I knock on the door and as planned, Emma will tell the kids to answer it.

In moments, it’s swinging open. I get a flash of Emma walking up behind our kids, but my eyes are pinned on them. They’re both in complete shock, eyes wide open staring at the puppy squirming in my arms.

Both stare at me mutely, frozen, as if they can’t believe that this is real.

Finally, I say, “surprise!”

Minnie’s gaze rises up to meet mine. “Is that ours?”

“This is ours,” I nod, laughing. But still, neither of them move forwards, so I goad them. “Come and get him?”

That’s all it takes for Minnie to scoop this little fella into her arms, pressing her nose into his head and murmuring little endearments. George scratches him and he reacts to their greetings by wiggling frantically and trying to lick both of my kids’ faces. They both laugh in a delighted way I’ve never quite heard before.

I look at my wife and see her tender smile as she watches our littles. I can tell she’s as charmed by it as I am. 

I walk inside because it’s colder than a witch’s tit outside and shut the door. “He just peed outside, but we need to keep a close eye on him. If he starts sniffing around or circling, that probably means he needs a wee. Scoop him up and take him out to the back. After he’s done with his thing, give him lots of praise and affirmation.”

“Got it,” Minnie says as she plops down on the living room floor with the pup. The puppy jumps around, and all three of them start to play.

“Now, what should we name him?” Emma asks.

“Droolius Caesar?” I joke.

Emma laughs. “Jimmy Chew?”

“Sarah Jessica Barker?” I continue. “Wait, no, it’s a boy. Franz Fur-dinand?”

“Sir Barks-a-Lot?”

“Deputy Dawg?”

“Bark Twain?”

We both laugh. We’re shite at this. The kids are too busy with the puppy to comment on our suggestions.

SpongeBob SquarePants is on the telly playing in the background. None of them are watching, but I see SpongeBob scratching his snail pet under the chin before he picks up said pet and says, “I love you Gary. Gary, Gary, Gary, Gary…”

“Gary,” I say. The kids look at me and I point at the telly.

“That’s a ridiculous name for a dog,” Emma cackles. “But I like it.”

“That’s a human name?” Minnie’s brows knit slightly.

“I like it!” George exclaims, then proceeds to baby talk the pup who’s chewing on the end of Minnie’s braid. “I love you Gary. Gary, Gary, Gary, Gary…”

We laugh.

“H,” Emma calls, and my gaze moves to her. She jerks her chin to the kitchen. “Help me set up the table? I’ve got a cold beer for you.”

Minnie and George still completely ignore us as we move into the kitchen. 

It would be natural for me to sit at the kitchen island while Emma gets the beer and checks on the supper, but the kids can see me from where they sit in the living room. So I follow my wife behind the island instead.

Before she can make it two steps, I move right into the back of her. Hands at her hips, I push her all the way forward until the counter catches her hips, then I dip to put my lips to her neck. 

Emma’s head falls back and she utters the tiniest of sighs, one arm looping back to go around the side of my head so she can thread her fingers in my hair. It’s an intimate embrace, but not one to provoke lust. Just a message that I missed her even though I saw her two days ago, and I love touching her in this gentle, loving way.

“The kids,” she murmurs. “They might see us.”

“Oh, the tragedy,” I whisper dryly. “Our children seeing  their parents hugging.”

Emma snickers and pulls away, glancing over her shoulder. “It would be shocking to them. And until we know for sure what we are and where we’re going, we need to keep them in the dark, remember? I don’t want them to get their hopes up.”

“You’re right,” I mumble in a low voice before moving to the island. I glance back at the living room and see the puppy on George’s back, trying to climb up. “No touching around the kids.”

She smiles and hands me a beer. She’s got one in her hand, and we tap bottles. She then moves to the oven, where she bends to take a peek through the window. Obviously, I stare at her arse as she does.

“It’s done,” she announces, opening the oven to pull the pan of shepherd’s pie.

“Need help with that?’ I ask, noting it looks like it probably weighs fifty pounds.

Twisting, she grins. “Sure. I made a double batch to send you home with some leftovers.”

That gets me. Not only she made one of my favourite meals, but she’s also sending me home with leftovers. I pop off the stool, round the island and take the two potholders she’s holding out to me.

After I carefully lift the pan from the oven, she shuts the oven door. I set it down on the two trivets she’s placed on the counter.

Bending over, I inhale the scent deeply. “Smells fantastic.”

Emma bumps her hip against me. “Well… you’ve been pretty amazing these last few weeks, so…”

I bump her hip back before sliding my hand around her waist. Bending my head, I murmur. “Admit it… it’s for the orgasms I gave you after the school run the other day.”

She chuckles with a sly smile. “Possibly.”

Leaning in closer, I touch my temple on the top of her head, lowering to a complete whisper. “You do know that I can give you that any day you want, right, Em? All you’ve got to do is ask.”

“Oh, I will,” she teases.

“What’s going on here?” Minnie says from behind us.

Emma and I jump apart as if we’d been electrocuted by each other. We spin to see Minnie standing there, with George next to her holding Gary in his arms. These two must have worn that pup out as he is still, watching us curiously.

Minnie’s expression, on the other hand, is condemning and suspicious.

“Nothing’s going on, poppet,” Emma says, her voice a little squeaky in panic. It’s adorable.

“Your mum and I were just talking,” I calmly explain.

“With your arm around her waist and whispering,” Minnie challenges. “Looks more like flirting to me.”

“Are you upset about it?” I challenge back. I knew she was upset when we separated and she struggled with it for a long time. 

Her brows knit together. “I’m just confused.”

Emma’s expression indicates she has no clue what to say. I can’t say I’m any more well equipped, but I’m going to take this one. I give my wife a subtle chin tilt, silently telling her I’ll handle this and relief evident in her eyes.

“Come on, you lot. Help me sort Gary’s stuff,” I say, herding them towards the garage. 

All three of them follow me into the garage, Gary still cosy in George’s arms. 

I immediately spot the stack of supplies, which includes a dog crate similar to mine, as well as bowls, a soft dog bed, food and toys. I pick up the soft bed towards the door that leads back into the house. Minnie turns to precede me, but I stop her. “Hang on there a second, poppet.”

When she pivots to face me her expression is guarded. “You asked about your mum and me. What do you want to know?”

“Were you two flirting with each other just now?” She demands. Crap. She’s nine. She’s not supposed to know that stuff. 

I can’t believe I get a little warm in the face at such a question, but I nod. I know it’s probably too soon to tell them but there’s no point in denying this. Both of my children are smart, and they deserve to know what’s going on. 

Her eyes narrow. “So are you… what… getting back together?”

“Does it mean you’re gonna live with us again, daddy?” George chirps.

“Not yet, nuggets. It’s not that simple.”

“It kind of is,” she replies. “You left for months. You didn’t even come during the summer. Then once she started dating Luke-”

“What’s dating?” George turns to his sister.

“It’s when you like someone and they like you back and you become boyfriend and girlfriend then you go out to eat together and do other stuff,” Minnie explains, then she continues. “Then once she started dating Luke, you’re suddenly coming around more often. And then she told me that Luke wouldn’t come over anymore and now you two are making googly eyes at each other.”

We lapse into silence for a moment. I need to think carefully about what to say next. George beats me. “I think I’m dating someone.”

“You what?” My eyes widen.

“Yeah. I asked Poppy in the playground to be my girlfriend the other day and she said yes. Then after we were done playing on the slides we got hungry so she shared her raisins with me. I also let her take a sip of my Ribena.”

I try hard not to break into laughter but Minnie doesn’t even crack a smile. 

“Okay… so here’s the thing. I was very upset. I know that was wrong of me to just leave without saying goodbye, and it was wrong of me for not visiting sooner. I needed time to let it go, and to accept what your mum wanted. But not once during that time did I not want to come back home. I’ve always wanted my family back.”

“Then what changed?” Minnie asks.

“Your mum and I spent some time apart because we both thought that was the best decision. But we were wrong. Because we realised that we didn’t want to be without each other. So now I’m trying to prove that I’ve changed. That I’m a better man, and I’m ready to be a better husband. The one your mum deserves.”

“See,” Minnie murmurs, her expression filled with confusion. George dips his head and rubs his cheek against Gary’s head, who seems to be on the verge of falling asleep. “I don’t get it. You and mum always seemed to get along great. You never argued. I never understood why you left.”

I move in close to my daughter and brush a lock of hair behind her ear. “A lot of that stuff is private between your mum and I, poppet.”

George asks. “But why can’t you just move in now, daddy?”

“It takes time, mate. Your mum and I need more time to sort ourselves out. But I promise you two that we’re trying our hardest here, okay? We need you both to be patient. Can you do that for us?”

They both nod in unison. Gary blinks twice.

“I can’t wait for us to be family again,” says Minnie.

Grinning, I bend to kiss her head. “Me too, poppet…”

***

Emma

“Gary! This way, Gary!”

Harry and I look at each other across this rather windy hilltop. The kids and Gary are exploring the neighbouring bushes and pathways as we perch ourselves on a rock nearby. We take in the view, the breeze biting at my cheeks.

My husband turns to me. “Tea? I put some whisky in it.”

“Hell, why not.”

Harry pours the tea out and we clink mugs. He brushes his thumb across my nose for no absolute reason. I was born and raised here, but this is something I’ll never tire of: these swooping hills and valleys, infinite skies and bracing breezes. As much as I loved London, I’m glad we’ve traded that life with this simpler one. There is no taxi nor Tube in sight but our kids are somehow a little bouncier and carefree. They’re happy here, and that’s all that matters. 

 “Ey up,” greets Harry at a group of people walking past us. They are obviously tourists as they have no way to respond and one of them is wearing bog standard Reebok Classics.

We hear the kids squeal in the distance and we both smile at each other. Getting that pup was probably one of our best decisions.  

“Do you remember when we first dated?” Asks my husband. “You brought me up here.”

I nod. “I do.”

“The view was decent,” he grins. 

“I know you’re not thinking about the view.”

“I was thinking about what happened when we got to the top of the meadow…”

“That was some decent shag,” I chuckle. “Nowadays, I’d worry about getting ticks on my unmentionables.”

We laugh.

I stare over at my husband taking in the view and sipping tea noisily. He always pauses for a moment on any walk to drink it all in. He rustles in his bag and gets a packet of biscuit out, opening the packaging awkwardly and offering it to me. 

“Did you know that you’re supposed to call it ‘niece’ and not ‘nice’? Apparently, they’re named after the French town.”

“That’s proper pub quiz trivia knowledge right there, Styles,” I tease.

We stay up here for a little while, but since it’ll get dark soon, we start our walk back to the car. The one thing you forget about taking kids up mountains (small hills) is that for all that experience of green space and fresh air, eventually, you will have to bring them down. Despite having an entire packet of biscuit (with a whole lot of why did you bring this one? This is rubbish. You could’ve brought hobnobs), we failed to remember to pack enough snacks and a fine drizzle is now scratching at our faces. It takes George much persuading to keep walking and by the time we return to the car, the sun is dipping behind the clouds and the twilight sits in the air. 

Harry decided it was fine to park in a deserted car park in the middle of nowhere to escape the throngs of regular walkers and tourists but strangely enough, when we get back there, we are one of six parked up.

“Come on, mate. Literally, just to the car. Like twenty more steps,” Harry begs our son to keep on walking. 

“You lied!” He complains. “You said that twenty steps ago.”

“I’ve got Haribo in the car.”

He progresses to a light canter. 

“Where did all these cars come from?” Harry asks as he approaches our motor cautiously.

“Maybe you’re not the only smart one here and people are following your lead.”

A car flashes us. 

I look around at all the cars. People are sat in them. What are they waiting for? You see this sometimes when waiting for the rain to pass or when people decide to eat their lunch in the car. 

Suddenly, I hear a car door open and a gentleman approaches us. His footsteps are low.

I know him. It’s Patrick. He’s our postman, so, yes, we have our very own Postman Pat. It was the first thing that tickled Harry when he found out years ago. And even better, the joke is not lost on Pat. His wife even got him a stuffed black and white cat for his cherry-red van window. I smile at recognising him, as do all of the occupants in our car.

“Emma, Harry, kids. Fancy seeing you here, of all places.”

“We’ve got a new dog and we were just taking him for a walk,” I inform him.

“Oh, lovely. What’s his name?”

“Gary,” the kids say in unison.

“Have you got a dog, Pat?” George asks him.

“No, my wife’s a cat lady. But funny you should mention dogs. This place here, people like to come here for that reason.”

“Gary seemed to like it,” pipes in Harry. “I think it’ll be his favourite.”

“That it is. People come here all the time for walking and with their dogs and other such endeavours.” His face looks slightly ashen at this point, his eyes darting towards the other cars. “And the other sense of the word… I just thought I would mention it as you have the littl’uns and it’s getting darker. I think someone just flashed his lights to warn you.”

Harry and I realise what he means exactly at the same time. “OH!” we say at the same gobsmacked volume. 

“Dogg…ing…” Harry mumbles. “We should-”

“Leave, like definitely leave, like now,” I say finishing his sentence.

The kids appear confused. I look around and shield my eyes. I should shield the children’s eyes. Pat’s wife waves from the passenger seat.

“Give our regards to June,” I say.

“Will do.”

He salutes us and returns to his car. The kids have all the questions. “People come here to look at dogs?” George asks. “Where are the dogs?”

“Get. In. The. Car.” Harry mouths very deliberately.

I slink into the passenger seat. Our eyes dart in different directions trying to divert focus from any of the cars ahead. We’ll be good if Harry doesn’t drive us off a cliff face. He turns on the wipers, the engine roars to a start and he pulls away slowly.

“We could have stayed and seen the dogs,” says George, a little despondently. “Gary would’ve loved to see his mates. Wouldn’t you, Gary?”

I throw a packet of Haribo at him. Harry and I are silent. We’ve just strolled our children and our very young dog into an outdoor sex hotspot. We are terrible parents. 

“Who fancies chips?” Harry says as he changes gear. He finds our littles in the rear-view mirror and studies their faces. “There’s a decent chippy down road.”

There’s a chorus of approval from the back seat. My husband smiles. He then moves his hand over from the gearstick to find mine, fingers interlocked, the sky glowing a thousand different colours.

***

“Are you calling my turkey dry?”

I look over at my older sister Suze in the corner of our family kitchen wondering where on earth she had the courage to come out with a comment like that. Even her husband stops washing up to absorb what his wife just said to our mother. I mean, you think it, but you just douse it in gravy and make do. Such is the joy of white chalky meat like turkey. Why do this now? Now she’ll harp on about the bacon she puts on the breasts and all the goose fat. But it’s Suze. She likes the challenge. I secretly think the only way she believes she can have a relationship with our mother is to spar with her regularly so they at least have one line of communication.

“It was a lovely dinner, Mum. Did you make the mince pies?” Suze winks at me.

I shake my head at her and bring the plate of mince pies through to the living room. Amidst my mother’s wreaths and tinsel wrapped around the lampshades, it’s a familiar tableau: Pop, my grandfather, asleep in the armchair in the corner, a holy green paper hat covering his eyes. Small children crawl on the floor and make angel shapes with their bodies amidst remnants of old glittery wrapping paper.  I hope Mum’s made a trifle. My other sister Meg and her husband snooze on a neighbouring sofa, catching on much needed sleep since they just had a baby four months ago and I still remember four months sleep regression is hell. I like this part of Christmas where bits of old crackers litter the floor and twilight takes over.

I take a mince pie and escape to the last vacant spot on the sofa. George rests his head on my knees. “What are you eating, mummy?” I look down at his bright green eyes and wonder how he can still be hungry as he must be ninety per cent roast potato at this point.

“A mince pie.”

“With cow mince?”

“No, like fruity bits,” I pick out said fruity bits and drop them into his mouth like a baby bird. He pulls a face, tasting it, and then walks away.

Harry smiles at me from the bottom of the Christmas tree. He’s laying down on the floor with one of my nieces. He’s always been great with kids, long even before we have our own. My niece has her palm out, and Harry runs circles in it as he sings, “round and round the garden, like a teddy bear…”

She smiles and laughs, poising her fingers, ready to bounce. 

“One step, two-step, tickle me under there,” he pretends to collapse into giggles and my niece’s little face broadens into laughter before she rolls over and walks away to play with her cousins.

Finishing my last bite of the tiny pie, I roll under the tree to join my husband. He looks at me as I cosy up next to him, the lights reflect off his eyes.

My mother likes a real tree for Christmas. It’s the smell, you can’t beat the smell. I like to think you can get that real pine smell from a good supermarket brand toilet cleaner but I don’t say that out loud for fear of incurring her festive wrath. And so there’s always a real tree and like we endured when my siblings and I were teens, there’s still a daily rota of vacuuming up the needles as we watch that bastard go crusty and brown as it’s shoved up against the radiator. 

We lay there in silence, looking up at the branches and my mother’s multicoloured lights twinkling in some erratic fashion that my eyes can’t quite handle. I’ve been to raves that were less of an assault on the senses. It’s an overwhelming memory of our childhood, lying in silence wigging out on mum’s trippy disco lights, absorbing the magic of the season. 

“You’re drunk aren’t you, tipsy-tits?”

“You were the one who poured double shots of Baileys in our coffees this morning,” I cackle.

“That’s called Christmas milk.” 

“What are you doing here?” Minnie asks, her head nestling into my shoulder. I rake pine needles from her head.

“Nothing…” Harry replies. “Where’s yer brother?”

“Here,” George suddenly appears, rolling under the tree next to his dad to join us.

“Looks like the awesome foursome is back, huh?” Harry grins.

Minnie and George hum in agreement. I can see my babies smiling. 

It’s time.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” 

I take a deep breath. “Will you come back home with us?”

-

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