#insert chainsaw sound effect

[fuedalreesespieces]

kagome haters confuse me because anyone who can acclimate to a setting as dangerous and violent as the feudal era, quickly learn to shoot a bow with spiritual powers they didn't even know they had, adopt a kitsune kid, remain calm and come up with plans after getting kidnapped (multiple times), push aside ire or jealousy to help heal someone who tried to kill you, take detours during an important quest to help those in need, fight possession, resist evil temptation while being trapped in the dark alone for three days and three nights, all while being told that nobody will come get you, but still holding onto hope because all this time, throughout these traumas and death and destruction, you've always had hope...all while being a fifteen year old junior high student trying not to miserably flunk out of school....

...well, they have my permanent respect. but what do i know.

[truedove]

wanna play a game?

word count - 2,742

content - smut (minors dni), f!reader insert, extremely dubious consent, basically fuck or die, unprotected piv, slight breeding kink, twisted and fluffy feelings

synopsis - a dangerous escapee finds refuge in a haunted house and blends in seamlessly with the crowd of costumed goers. he continues his deadly spree only to run into you.

a/n - i honestly have no idea what this is :/

this was a terrible idea. the thought runs through your mind on repeat as you stand in line for the haunted house, the chill in the october air doing nothing to cool your nerves. your best friend had begged you to come along, promising it would be a night of laughs and good scares. but as the line inched closer to the gaping maw of the house, with its flickering lights and eerie sound effects, you felt less amused and more…trapped.

you weren't a scaredy-cat, no. you were an avid horror movie watcher and only just slightly quickened your steps when the lights were off at home. but this was different. you weren't watching from the safety of your sofa, plush sheets tucked tight under your chin; you were walking into the very heart of it.

in the recesses of your mind, you knew everything around you wasn't real, that the monsters masquerading in the shadows were just actors paid to make you scream. but as you stepped through the creaking doorway and into a dimly lit corridor, the rational part of you took a backseat to the instinctive fear that pumped adrenaline through your veins. the walls closed in around you, painted with scenes of gore that seemed a little too vivid.

your friend lets out a giddy laugh after one of the actors pops out from behind a curtain, a plastic chainsaw buzzing in his hand.

"wooh-boy!" your friend exclaims, leaning into your side as she catches her breath from the jump scare. "that was a good one."

all you can offer her is a strained smile as you will your heart to slow down. the corridor opens into a grim room filled with cobwebs and the scent of fake decay fills your nose. a scream echoes from somewhere deep in the house and you jump, your hand shooting to your chest.

a buzz starts from your toes to the very tips of your fingers, light at first but growing stronger with each step you take into the house. your friend grabs your hand, pulling you deeper into the maze of horrors, her excitement palpable. you swallow hard and try to keep up, the floorboards groaning beneath you as if the house itself were alive and aware of your fear.

suddenly, a strobe light flashes on and a multitude of figures lunge out of a rusty side doorway, your friend's grip on your hand slips away. for a moment, you're lost in the chaos of flashing lights and ghastly shrieks, searching for her familiar form amidst the strangers dressed as creatures of the night. your breath catches in your throat as the strobe light dances off the walls, casting eerie shadows that twist and distort the space around you. you're dizzy, disoriented, and utterly terrified.

you veer off the given path in a panic, stumbling through a foggy hallway that seems to stretch on forever. your eyes strain to make out the way forward, faux cobwebs sticking to your face like a clingy mist that makes you cringe. the air is thick with the smell of fake smoke, and somewhere, distant thunder rumbles. your heart is racing, and the adrenaline is making it difficult to think straight. you call out for your friend, but the echoes of your own voice are the only response.

a cold hand brushes against your arm, and you jump. you whirl around, ready to face whatever horror lurks in the fog, only to find a grinning skeleton, its plastic bones rattling with every jerky movement. a laugh bubbles up in your throat, part relief and part embarrassment.

heavy footsteps begin to approach from the other end of the foggy hallway you find yourself in, growing louder with each echoing thud and your chuckle dies in your throat. the faint flickering lights go out, plunging you into a sudden and absolute darkness.

whoever is on the other end of the hallway is slow in their approach, seemingly not in any rush to get to you. maybe it's a fellow patron lost like you, you convince yourself, but the muted glint of a machete in the person's hand suggests otherwise. you try to rationalize, it's probably just another actor, trying to build suspense before the next jump scare. but the darkness is thick, a velvet shroud that blocks out all other sounds except for the methodical steps.

all logical thought leaves you as the footsteps creep closer and you bolt.

if this was an act, it was one of the best you've ever encountered. the footsteps follow you, unyielding and deliberate before they start to speed up and the person behind you is full on chasing you through this creepy ass haunted house. you can't see a thing in front of you, your eyes having not fully adjusted to the sudden blackout. all you can do is feel your way through the cold, clammy walls, your hands sticking to the damp residue of who-knows-what as you go.

you trip over something—because of course you do—and go sprawling, the wind knocked out of you. the footsteps are closer now, and you can hear the raspy breathing of the person with the machete, their excitement apparent in every exhale. your own breath comes in short, sharp bursts, the sound of your own fear amplified in the silence.

you manage to find your footing only to slam into an apparent dead end. panic sets in as the footsteps are now right behind you. your palms sweat against the flaking wallpaper, searching for any sort of out. there's no escape, no hidden door, no exit sign. trapped, you're trapped.

as you whirl around to face your pursuer, the overhead fluorescents flicker and you're met with the sight of a towering, hulking man with a machete in hand. your mind reels—hoping this is when the actor breaks character with a cheesy grin and a 'gotcha'. but there's no grin, only a wild-eyed stare through a botched halloween mask that sends a jolt of terror down your spine. you're frozen, unable to move or even scream. so terrified that your body seems to have turned to stone, you watch as the man approaches, his machete glinting in the sporadic light.

the man's hot breath fans across your face. he brings with him the scent of sweat and something else—something metallic—that sends your stomach roiling.

was he an actor gone rogue, some deranged psycho who liked to take things too far? you squeeze your eyes shut, tears pricking at the corners, and brace for the worst.

instead of a painful blow, you feel the man's ragged breath inch towards your face and then a pair of chapped lips press upon the damp skin of your cheeks. they're scorching, and you flinch when his tongue snakes out to taste the salt of your terror. your eyes fly open to see his masked visage only an inch away, his eyes low lidded and a furrow to his brows just barely visible through the slits of the mask.

he crowds you, his armed hand coming up to steady himself against the wall, the other finding it's place on the wall beside your head, trapping you in a prison of cold plaster and sweaty latex. you attempt to scream, but all that comes out is a pitiful whimper, your throat constricting with fear. you're acutely aware of the weight of the machete's tip pressing against your ribs, a silent reminder of the power he holds over you.

a grin forms against your skin and the man idles closer, his teeth scraping against your cheek like the sharpened edge of a serrated blade. with his bulk pinning your frozen body to the wall, you feel a suspicious lump press against your navel, and panic shoots through you anew.

no, no, no. this couldn't be happening to you right now.

there was no way you were lost in some haunted house with a disturbed, possibly murderous stranger grinding his erection against your stomach. it just couldn't be.

you let out a plaintive cry as the gravity of your situation sinks in and the man coos, a sound meant to be soothing but only makes your tears fall faster.

he seems genuinely distressed at your tears, his shoulders slumping slightly as he hunches in on himself. but his grip doesn't lessen, nor does the pressure of his body against yours. if anything he presses closer, seemingly trying to comfort you in the most perverse way he knows how. but that was crazy, right? this monster couldn't actually be trying to console you. right?

when your cries only continue to escalate, the hulking man silences you in the only way he knows how to. he covers your mouth with his own and swallows your sobs greedily. you squirm, the 'fight' part of 'fight or flight' finally kicking in. your hands push against his chest, feeling the solidity of his frame beneath his grimy costume. but your efforts are futile, like trying to move a mountain with your bare hands. the man's kiss is wet and sloppy, his tongue pushing against your teeth as if he's trying to taste the very depth of you.

his hand snakes down from the wall, gripping your waist and pulling you closer, his machete now digging into your spine. your muffled protests are ignored in favor of his deepening of the kiss and you feel his other hand move to the back of your head, his fingers weaving through your hair as if he's trying to cradle your skull.

growing increasingly frustrated with your constant struggling, he slams his hand into the wall beside your head, making the plaster crack and sending a spray of dust into the stale air. the sound is deafening in the enclosed space, and you feel the vibration in your teeth. you flinch— hard—and the sudden stillness of your body seems to be what he's been waiting for. his grip on you grows less punishing and more consuming, his tongue sliding against yours with a fervor that turns your stomach.

you force yourself to calm down enough to finally take stock of your situation. this man, this monster, chased you down and seemed pretty intent on killing you before apparently deciding you'd make a better paramour than a corpse. was it your tears? did the sight of them get this sick fuck hard and he allotted you a different, more twisted fate?

you don't know and frankly don't care to. all you know is that you have to make it out of this alive, even if it meant playing into his twisted games. so, with trembling hands, you tentatively wrap your arms around his neck, feigning compliance. your stomach turns with every touch, but you force yourself to respond to his kiss, moving your mouth against his with as much passion as you can muster. he groans, a low guttural sound that makes your blood run cold, and abruptly lifts you off the floor, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist to keep from falling.

"little lamb." he croons into your mouth, his voice thick with undeniable lust.

terror is a living thing inside of you, desperate to escape, but you keep it buried deep. your body goes rigid as he starts to grind his cock against your clothed cunt, mere fabric the only barrier between his sick desires and your trembling flesh.

he's quick to rectify that though, impatience getting the better of him as he full on tears the denim of your pants open with one swift motion. the sound of the fabric ripping echoes in the small space, making your heart stutter. the cold air hits your exposed skin, the difference between the chilly room and his burning hands a veritable assault on your senses.

his own pants are next and you feel the heat of his cock pressing against you. the heavy, leaden weight of him pokes you through the fabric of your underwear and he grunts, hips rutting against you. your eyes widen in horror and you squeeze them shut, trying to think of anything but the reality of what's happening. you can't help the whine that escapes your throat as he starts to tug at your underwear, ripping them away with a sickening sound.

some fumbling occurs and you feel the tip of his cock pushing at your entrance, and fuck. he's big, stupidly so, and you know there's no way he's fitting without tearing you apart. you pant at the thought, cold fear making your cunt clench tight around him. he seems to like this, though, because his grunts turn to growls and he shoves harder, pushing through your tightly wound muscles until you're forced to open for him.

there's a sharp, burning pain as he breaches you and you bite down on his shoulder to keep from crying out. you relish in the wince he gives, the bitter sap of his blood that fills your mouth when you bite down just that little harder. he's oblivious to your silent rebellion as he starts to fuck you, his strokes rough and unyielding; desperate. the wall bites into your back with every frenzied thrust, sending shocks of pain throughout your body that you don't mind as much as you should. this whole thing isn't revolting you as much as it should, which in itself is a horror to grapple with. you fervently try to ignore how good his strokes feel inside of you and the way your body seems to be betraying you with every shiver of pleasure that races through your veins.

his cock stretches you wide and broken moans escape you unbidden, muffled into the crook of his neck. you hate the way your body responds to the intrusion, the way your hips instinctively rock to meet his thrusts as if seeking the relief it knows is on the other end of this. he seems to notice your shift in demeanor, a smug grin spreading beneath the mask. his tongue traces the line of your jaw, teeth scraping against your skin and leaving little indents in his wake.

"you like this." he says with a definitive air, his voice deep and sure like he's simply stating a fact. an irrevocable truth.

your head shakes instinctively—the act slipping for a moment—but even you're not sure if it's in protest or in response to the dark thrill his claim sends through you.

when his groans lower in pitch and his already desperate rutting becomes more frantic, you realize with a jolt that he must be close. a swooping sensation fills your stomach—part fear, part relief—knowing that this might soon be over. but you can't just wait for him to finish and hope he lets you go, you need a plan. especially since the idea of him coming inside of you is too much to bear. you're not on birth control and nothing is shielding him from painting your insides white with his seed.

your barely-formed plans for escape are promptly cut off and interrupted by your own impeding climax, the alarm in your veins mixing with the sudden, not totally unwanted bliss.

it's blinding, all-consuming and leaves you feeling more than a little light-headed when it hits. the whole of you tenses around him, muscles clenching, and you can't help the cry that's torn from deep within your chest. the man grins into your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin as he lets himself go, filling you with a thick, hot rush of his cum.

the only sound that fills the space between the two of you for a long while is his labored breaths and your own shaky ones. his cum drips down from between your legs, viscous and pooling in the crevices of your inner thighs, your body still trembling with the aftershocks. when your head clears, you register the soft nips and kisses he's pressing against your neck and shoulders, as if he's trying to be sweet in the aftermath of his violation. aftercare, you think with slight hysteria.

it's silent, too quiet, and this is where your supposed to do something, get him while he's open and exposed but your body is a traitor, limp and spent against the wall. worse yet, his cock is still lodged inside of you, pulsing with the last of his orgasm and you feel his weight shift, his chest rumbling slightly as he murmurs, "again?"

[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?”

-

tag list: @gohometoacactus @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @kikisparadise18 @2am-2pm @rogersdirty-louse @harrys-cherriesss @icycoldbeanieweanies @niallbestie3 @peakascum @coucoukayy @awesomebooklover17 @sunflowerryvol6 @stylessugarhigh​ @umadirectioner​ ​

[pandapupremade]

Danger (Part 1)

WORDS: 1,304

WARNINGS: Mentions of explosions/evil plans basically

in case u wanted to know context of the Sympathy fic I did yesterday, I’m writing a prequel tihngy. this is part 1 and doesn’t feature much Self shipping (though it references my ship with Quackerjack and @sphearts‘ insert Patch), but pls know the next parts will. reblogs also appreciated!!! I had a lot of fun w this ;w;

------------

      The Fearsome Five were once more up to something very dastardly. When weren't they? But it seemed today that in that warehouse just off town, not all members of the group were feeling so dastardly. A nervous Bushroot tapped his leafy hands together as he looked over the crate in front of him, one that wires were extending from.

     "Are we sure this is such a good idea? I -I m-mean...There's - there's just - there's innocents down there, you kn-know?" He shook his purple-foliaged head and frowned. "Oh, I c-couldn't bear to destroy the poor things...N-not so gruesomely..."

      Bushroot's concerns fell on deaf ears, of course, and in fact his words were met with a laugh from Quackerjack, who was dangling upside down from the rafters for whatever goofy reason. "Since when do YOU care about the civilians, bush brain?"

     "W-who said anything about people?" The scientist almost seemed offended, "You know I'm talking about the plants! The - the - the trees! The f-flowers! They're all blooming at this time, I couldn't stand it if they..."

      "Are you having second thoughts?" Came the voice of Liquidator, poking up from a puddle on the floor, "Tired of destroying your family trees? Not to worry, the Liquidator will set things right! Lots of water for lots of plants, right?"

     "Uh, I-I guess..." Bushroot nodded, but still seemed tense. "A-anyway, Quackerjack - don't think you're one to - to talk. You're the one with a f-family at home. Shouldn't you be worried about them? What if they get caught in the explosion - bet you'd be pretty bummed then...!"

     "Please, they know to stay out of any destruction zone!" replied the jester with another laugh, "Well, except Patch - but who knows where they go....Maybe your plants oughta do the same...You know...Make like a banana and split! Hohohohoooo~!" As he said banana, he pulled out Mr. Banana Brain, because of course he did.

     "Just better hope they don't get in the way again," Megavolt sneered. "They're always so unpredictable...But then again, so are you."

     "Hohohooo!"

    "Which one of you idiots is making Quackerjack a fool of himself again?" growled a new voice, and one that shot chills down each Fearsome member's spine. Negaduck had finally arrived. "Or is it just Quackerjack being a fool all on his own? Either way, his laughter is getting on my nerves."

    "Oh, goody!" Quackerjack grinned from above. "Boss is back! Great to see you, Negaduck! Buddy, ol' pal!"

      "Yeah, yeah, roll out the red carpet." Negaduck waved his hand with disinterest. "Is everything in place, boys? 'Cause if it's not..."

     "The Liquidator has a 100% satisfactory guarantee! Indeed, you, Negaduck, will be pleased - or your money back!" The watery dog seemed a bit too cheery considering all this talk of explosions...

     Negaduck shook his head. "I'll hold you to that, you walking infomercial..."      But at this, Megavolt spoke up, "But Boss, you didn't give us any money, so we can't exactly give it back..."

    "Well,  your life can repay any debt, don't you think?" He tapped his foot on the ground. "I mean, really, that's what you're gonna give me anyway if you losers screw this up."

     "That's our Negaduck! Always so forgiving..." Seems like even the concept of dying a bloody death as punishment for failing sounded like a fun time to Quackerjack. "Anyway, boss..." He dropped down from the ceiling and landed directly in front of Negaduck now, "I've got a question for you, if you've got the time..."

      "I don't have the time." Negaduck tried to walk past the insolent clown, but Quackerjack quite literally bounced back to front and center.

     "It'll only take a second! See, Bushroot and I were just having a civil little conversation -"

     "Nothing civil about it," huffed Bushroot in the background.

      "9 out of 10 reviews give that conversation a thumbs down," added Liquidator.

      Quackerjack snorted. "Anyway, it got me wondering if YOU have any ties that could be -"

      And then, his beak was grabbed quite cartoonishly to shut him up. Negaduck was obviously unamused. "No, Quackerjack. Unlike you, I don't need a family to keep me stable."

     "Yeah, you only need a chainsaw," chuckled Megavolt.

     "Bingo. And frankly, I don't even need that. Any weapon will do, yeah?" Negaduck let go of Quackerjack now, but walked past while purposely stepping on the guy's foot. (Though this backfired, because there was a honking sound effect and that just annoyed the boss more.) "If that's all you nubs needed, then let's start the operation."

     "Aye-aye, sir!" came the chant of his cohorts. Negaduck would walk towards the earlier mentioned crate, which with the little help of a button on a remote he had, opened to reveal a computer inside. On the screen was a map of St. Canard in neon green color, and Negaduck began to type in some coordinates from a sheet of paper - one that he'd somehow taken from Megavolt when the rodent wasn't looking.

     "And...we...are...good...to....Eh?" His finger paused over the last number, "No, wait a minute, that ain't right..." He back spaced and tried again. Still no.

    "Somethin' wrong, boss?" asked Megavolt.

    "The coordinates I'm inputting on this detonator...They're nowhere near the correct ones." He glared at Megavolt. "Where did you set up the bombs?"

    "On the south side of -"

   At this, Negaduck's eyes narrowed. "The SOUTH side? You LOSER, you can't even follow orders right...I said the NORTH would be destroyed..."

     Megavolt stared, and became increasingly panicked. "W-wh-wha? W-well, it shouldn't be too big a difference! A-after all, it's still just a threat, r-right? Not like we won't get our point acro-"

    "That's not the point, you dolt! There's some stupid art convention going on in the South Side of town, and I wanted to specifically avoid that area!"

   Silence.

   "Uh....Why-" began Bushroot, but he quickly retracted his inquiry as Negaduck shot a nasty look at him. "Th-that is....We can just set the bombs up elsewhere, right?"

   "Yeah, and it's gonna take all day! Forget it, this plan was a failure...And it's not my fault, I'd like to say..." Negaduck crossed his arms. "Quackerjack and Megavolt can be in charge of defusing all the bombs."

    "Hmm...Is it really such a big deal?" Quackerjack smiled in a way that sorta said he was about to cause trouble, "It's just strange you'd care so much about a little setback that you'd cancel your whole plan...Not even a Plan B...."

   "Y-yeah, that's  - that's right!" chimed in Bushroot. "We should just go ahead with it, already!"

   "Act now, and the Liquidator can wash away YOUR worries, with a bang!" 

   "It will SURELY shock you!" beamed Megavolt.

   "Will you all be quiet?! I'm sick of your puns!" Negaduck snapped, "You're all so...useless!" Well, this was getting nowhere fast. Soon, in a comedic fashion, the Fearsome Five became the Fumbling Five - everyone started arguing, and in the midst of it...Somehow, probably when nobody was paying attention, that last digit got put into the detonator.

    "Forget this," Negaduck growled, "I'll just have to..." And then he noticed the timer. "W- No! Oh, for the love of -" Everyone watched as he rushed to the computer and began trying to stop the detonator. "UGH! YOU IDIOTS!"

    The others looked at each other. Then at Negaduck. Then at each other. And as they ran away so as not to meet his wrath, Liquidator shouted out another quote of "Act now, the offer ends soon!"

   "Oh, more than that is gonna end...." But there was no time to worry about that with the clock ticking. He gripped his hat in a stressed manner, yanking on it to try and calm his nerves. But he couldn't stop the detonator - he'd specifically planned that so that Darkwing couldn't screw things up...What irony!

    But why did he care about that art convention? Well, as he rushed off to try and find a certain someone,  he wondered that himself.

[heronamevilllain]

NCT 127 “Chain” Reaction/ Review

Alright, so it is very rare for me to come out of the comfort of my tags to share my full thoughts on something, especially a single MV, but here I am because I have so many things to say about Chain that I genuinely could not stop myself from making this post. 

As soon as the song started, I was annoyed by the instrumental with all of the metallic clanking which felt extremely overwhelming as well as the little electronic whirring underneath. Then there was the snare with a strange distortion over it that I just really don’t like even now. It sounds like my head phones have a loose wire or something. I had seen a few people already saying they didn’t particularly like the song and, within the first 15 seconds, I was already under the impression that I would agree with them. Simultaneously though, the visuals were wrecking me. They looked incredible, that shot of their silhouettes in front of the blue and yellow sky is magnificent, and I was so excited for them to return to a darker concept (not that I disliked Touch, I thoroughly enjoyed it, but this concept is just my preference). In other words, I was prepared to just ignore the instrumental to the best of my ability and enjoy the vocals and visuals instead.

Then halfway through Mark’s verse, the distortion comes off the snare. We also had a bass beat added to the track in the first chorus and the annoying metallic sounds were pushed further back in the mix, so things started to come together for me musically. The visuals throughout this whole section of me focusing more on the musical changes were of course wonderful as well, but nothing particularly stood out to me (other than the boys’ beautiful faces, they’re always ethereal). I’ll also note that I didn’t really like the adlibs at first, but the more I listen to this song, the more I find myself enjoying all of them and especially Mark’s ridiculously high-pitched and adorable “brrrr-ah”.

Now we get into the pre-chorus and the point where my heart opened to this song/MV forever. I swear to you I listened to this pre-chorus about 15 times before moving on to the rest of the MV because I was so worried it was only going to go back downhill and I needed to fully enjoy it while I still could. We got two (2) full seconds of Johnny’s glorious vocals and I nearly pissed myself. They were sandwiched between a lovely line from Jaehyun and a lung-collapsing one from Yuta, but my heart stayed in the middle with Johnny. It’s still there to this moment actually. I love how even the choreography here allows for “Oh the center is facing backwards, I wonder who it could be... NO F’ING WAY ITS JOHHNY! JOHNNY’S MOUTH IS MOVING AND WORDS ARE COMING OUT AND I CAN HEAR THOSE WORDS ABOVE EVERYONE ELSE AND IT’S ON PURPOSE!” I shouldn’t be this excited over two seconds of lines, I really shouldn’t have to be, but this is what SM has done to us. Johnny says to “make a wish”? I wish for a Johnny, Yuta, WinWin, and Kun subunit. This was also the shot where I noticed Doyoung’s incredible white jumpsuit and I never want him to take it off. 

Next the chorus starts bumping and we get a really nice visual transition following Taeyong’s hand motion from the party truck shot to this open set with the members in all black and honestly? I wouldn't have even been upset if the entire MV was shot on this scene as a performance MV because they all look so fantastic and the blue lighting looks really pleasant. I’m just a big fan of this shot and specifically the move they do in the choreography on the word “reaction.” But is it just me, or immediately after that are they miming taking a shot? Boys, Haechan is still a baby! I can’t watch him pretending to take a nonexistent shot of alcohol! He’s too small! (I’m going to insert a gif that I made because I can’t find one made by anyone who actually knows what they’re doing, but I have to share this moment with you all so I’m sorry for the quality. It is very bad.)

But let’s forget about all of that because there’s a Johnny.. holding a chainsaw... I had to pause the video there for a bit and contemplate everything I’ve ever known about large men holding chainsaws near me without a tree that needs to be cut down. I mean look at this! I should be afraid right?? That would be the logical response.. and yet here we are. They follow it up with some more choreography that’ll make you choke on your noodles and my heart is about to fly out of my chest.

Then the vocal trinity comes in. Well specifically, Jaehyun comes in and he’s making all these faces that my soft Jeffrey would never even know how to make and his voice sounds so smooth. I swear I'm not saying this to meme, but it just sounds like warm milk. I can’t describe his tone any better than that. It’s so welcoming especially when it immediately follows the gravelly texture of Taeyong’s voice.

And then Doyoung slides in to build off of Jaehyun and I’m convinced that they can’t make my heart beat any faster, but Taeil follows and I was actually right about that sentiment because rather than speeding up, my heart just stops. Next, give it a few Mark lines and a couple more seconds and OUT OF NOWHERE, TAEYONG JUST DECIDES TO GO TF OFF?? WHERE DID THAT EVEN COME FROM??? Now I already made it pretty clear earlier that I am one to be disappointed by really unfair line distribution.. but um, can the song just be like 6 minutes long and maybe a third of it be Taeyong throwing down some bars? Because that brought me right back to life after vocal trinity killed me. It was just so invigorating and this has happened a couple of times now where he will just really have a moment in a song and then it gets cut so much shorter than I want it to be. Personally, if I were doing arrangements for them (LMFAO AT THAT IDEA) one change I’d make would be to take Taeyong off the chorus and spread those lines a bit more and then give him Mark’s time at the end of this verse to really give him a chance to resolve the motion he creates with the speed rapping because the transition back to Mark feels rushed and anticlimactic. Also, Doyoung’s little “yeah” at the end is adorable and if he takes one step closer to me with those bolt cutters against his neck I’m going to have an aneurysm. The same goes for Yuta in those goggles leaning against that thing with his earring dangling down on his shoulder and sparks flying in front of his face. Just stay back, please.

Okay, but more than anything else, I think the bridge really sells this song for me. The vocalists just sound so good. It’s also my favorite part of the instrumental when we ditch all of the extra noise and strip it down to a whirring synth that I actually really enjoy the texture of combined with the powerful vocals and building percussion. I love the layering in Haechan’s voice here because it creates such an interesting effect following the clarity of Jaehyun’s entrance and preceding the power of Taeil’s vocals. I would also like to just mention how much I really like WinWin and Taeil’s hair here. The braids on WinWin really highlight his bone structure and the shaved pattern in Taeil’s undercut is so effective for the mandatory side-profile, power vocals shot. It’s almost enough to distract me from the glorious opportunity to appreciate his jawline and neck-- almost.

After that heavenly note we see the rare center Johnny and Haechan and I have been thoroughly blessed. Honestly, Pinkchan at 3:15 is so precious and I’ve giggled and smiled at that like second and a half for probably 10 minutes now because even though he stays center, that moment is just so playful and everything else is hard and I just love a soft Haechan okay? He’s my baby, sue me. 

In conclusion, Chain is a certified bop (other than the first like 30ish seconds that I still can’t get behind) and NCT 127 continues to ruin my life with magnificent vocals, stunning men, fantastic choreography, and power tools.

[hogwartstheaterfreak-blog]

I Was In Heathers: High School Edition And I’m In Post-Show Depression Mode So Here’s Some Stuff From That

•”I’d like to kidnap a Heather and dress her in one of my Wonder Woman costumes” ~ Beleaguered Geek 1989

•You eventually become numb to the clean lyrics in Candy Store (and virtually every other song) because the vocals are the same and they still sound amazing. Half of us don’t even remember the original lyrics for some of the songs

•Still

•”If you lack the juice, go play duck-duck-goose, let your mommy fix you ice cream” ~ Heather Chandler 1989

•When you’re in the ensemble you kind of forget Freeze Your Brain exists because you’re focused on the ensemble numbers. Therefore every tech run and show, everyone would run around backstage to get ready for Big Fun after Fight For Me and then Freeze Your Brain would start and we’d all be like “oh yeah”

•I understand why Big Fun had to be censored but in what world do high school parties consist of breaking the kitchen sink and setting the house on fire? In what world is property destruction the only thing that happens at parties?

•”Come give my pig a swat” ~ Kurt Kelly 1989

•The sexy-time interlude is still in Dead Girl Walkig even though there are no sexy times had. In our production JD threw Veronica over his shoulder and then placed her on his “couch” (stage blocks). That would be effective if they weren’t already sitting in the “couch”. Future directors take notes

•”Let’s git’er done” ~ Veronica Sawyer 1989

•*insert first onstage kiss our director’s ever done here*

•”I am more than fun beneath the bleachers” ~ Principal Gowan 1989

•I was the Young Republicanette who in the clean version of Me Inside Of Me is basically the “one time she punched me in the face” girl from Mean Girls

•Kurt and Ram say “Heather touching me” instead of the Stoner Chick and I’m still salty

•I know everyone loves Blue, but You’re Welcome is such a bop?? You wouldn’t expect it to be because it’s more serious despite the corny lyrics and yet it’s so catchy??? And everyone’s favorite???? The version we performed isn’t the final version because the writers want to make Veronica more active so for all I know it’ll turn out really different but our version was so good?????

•Kurt and Ram making rap noises is a MOOD

•Plus then showing that Kurt and Ram are trying to prey on Veronica and not making a joke out of it is so effective

•Regardless of Blue vs You’re Welcome opinions, everyone in the cast agrees Chainsaw (the You’re Welcome reprise) is better than Blew. It really is. Fight us

•”Get off the fence, GET OFF THE DAMN FENCE” is the best line in the whole show

•Kurt’s last lines before he dies is me in Bio

•”I’ve seen gay lions show their pride on documentaries” ~ Ram’s dad 1989

•Seventeen has no changes because it’s sacred

•Dead Kurt and Ram are with Dead Chandler in the scene between Seventeen and Shine A Light. Their purpose is more for comedic effect than to add anything new to the scene but I like that they appear as ghosts before Yo Girl

•”And you’re not fooling anyone with that comb-over” ~ Miss Flemming 1989

•In Shine A Light Reprise “kill yourself” is replaced with “end your life”…because they are totally different…definitely not the same thing…

•Lifeboat and Kindergarten Boyfriend also have no changes because s a c r e d

•Yo Girl and Meant To Be Yours are put together as one track and they do the same with I Am Damaged and Seventeen Reprise. I don’t know if they do that for regional productions of the full version, but

•We can talk about drugs here in Yo Girl and we mentioned alcohol in Seventeen but we couldn’t in Big Fun…Samuel French explain

•In Meant To Be Yours, they changed “burnt bodies” to “destruction” but everyone said “burnt bodies” for a variety of reasons

•The Meant To Be Yours harmonies are so good if the vocal director actually teaches them to you and you don’t have to guess

•”Let’s go be seventeen, take off our shoes and dance” ~ everyone but JD 1989

Overall, I went in a little skeptical but wouldn’t have traded this experience for the world. The censoring is inconsistent at times and the show drains the energy out of you but I loved it so, so much. I guess this was a don’t-judge-a-book-by-its-cover thing but really I just learned that theater friends are the best friends and that as sucky as life is we can make it beautiful.

Get it?

Okay I’m done now.

[theavinashkumar]

increasing awareness in workers’ health and safety will increase Personal Protective Equipment Market

Personal Protective Equipment is the protect the worker against safety and health risks at work. Items included in this process is gloves. Helmets, eye protection, high-visibility clothes, high-tenuous shoes and clothes for safety. It is mainly used for Making the workplace safe includes providing instructions, procedures, training, and supervision to encourage people to work safely and responsibly. If you work day to day worker, then use PPE because it can protect you from harm. When you use a product and after the work finish your first priorities to save the PP Equipment by stored in, e.g. in a dry, clean cupboard. If it is reusable it must be cleaned and kept in good condition.

Types of PPE you can use

Eyes

Hazards  Chemical or metal splash, dust, projectiles, gas and vapor, radiation

Options  Safety spectacles, goggles, face screens, face shields, visors

Note  Make sure the eye protection chosen has the right combination of impact/dust/splash/molten metal eye protection for the task and fits the user properly

Head and neck

Hazards  An impact from falling or flying objects, a risk of head bumping, hair getting tangled in machinery, chemical drips or splash, climate or temperature

Options  Industrial safety helmets, bump caps, hairnets and firefighters' helmets

Note

Some safety     helmets incorporate or can be fitted with specially-designed eye or     hearing protection

Don't forget neck     protection, e.g. scarves for use during welding

Replace head     protection if it is damaged

Ears

Hazards  Noise – a combination of sound level and duration of exposure, very high-level sounds are a hazard even with short duration

Options  Earplugs, earmuffs, semi-insert/canal caps

Note

Provide the right     hearing protectors for the type of work, and make sure workers know how to     fit them

Choose protectors     that reduce noise to an acceptable level, while allowing for safety and     communication

Hands and arms

Hazards  Abrasion, temperature extremes, cuts and punctures, impact, chemicals, electric shock, radiation, vibration, biological agents and prolonged immersion in water

Options  Gloves, gloves with a cuff, gauntlets, and sleeving that covers part or all the arm

Note

Avoid gloves when     operating machines such as bench drills where the gloves might get caught

Some materials are     quickly penetrated by chemicals – take care in a selection

Barrier creams are     unreliable and are no substitute for proper PPE

Wearing gloves for     long periods can make the skin hot and sweaty, leading to skin problems.     Using separate cotton inner gloves can help prevent this

Feet and legs

Hazards  Wet, hot and cold conditions, electrostatic build-up, slipping, cuts and punctures, falling objects, heavy loads, metal and chemical splash, vehicles

Options  Safety boots and shoes with protective toecaps and penetration-resistant, mid-sole wellington boots and specific footwear, e.g. foundry boots and chainsaw boots

Note

Footwear can have     a variety of sole patterns and materials to help prevent slips in     different conditions, including oil - or chemical-resistant soles. It can     also be anti-static, electrically conductive or thermally insulating

Appropriate     footwear should be selected for the risks identified

Lungs

Hazards

Oxygen-deficient     atmospheres, dust, gases, and vapors

Options – respiratory protective equipment (RPE)

Some respirators     rely on filtering contaminants from workplace air. These include simple     filtering facepieces and respirators and power-assisted respirators

Make sure it fits     properly, e.g. for tight-fitting respirators (filtering facepieces, half     and full masks)

There are also     types of breathing apparatus which give an independent supply of     breathable air, e.g. fresh-air hose, compressed airline and self-contained     breathing apparatus

Note

The right type of     respirator filter must be used as each is effective for only a limited     range of substances

Filters have only     a limited life. Where there is a shortage of oxygen or any danger of     losing consciousness due to exposure to high levels of harmful fumes, only     use breathing apparatus – never use a filtering cartridge

You will need to     use breathing apparatus in a confined space or if there is a chance of an     oxygen deficiency in the work area

Whole body

Hazards  Heat, chemical or metal splash, spray from pressure leaks or spray guns, contaminated dust, impact or penetration, excessive wear or entanglement of own clothing

 By the Hexaresearch Report, The global personal protective equipment market to reach USD 55.6 billion by 2028, owing to the increasing awareness towards employee health and safety issues at workplace coupled with rising industrial fatalities in emerging economies on account of shortage or lack of protective gear. Technological innovation, along with changing consumer needs for protective equipment which offers complete safety and is fashionable and appealing at the same time is further estimated to augment the market over the forecast period.

Europe emerged as the leading regional market for PPE accounting for more than 32% of the market revenue share over the forecast period. The implementation of strict safety standards by regulatory agencies such as Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA) mainly in Europe and North America is expected to fuel the need to use personal protective equipment over the forecast period.

Protective clothing segment accounted for more than 23% of the market share owing to the growing occupational hazards coupled with the mandatory implementation of regulations to use protective clothing in most of the core industries such as oil & gas, refining, metal manufacturing and automotive is expected to augment market growth of the protective clothing segment over the forecast period.

Construction is anticipated to be the fastest growing application segment for personal protective equipment in future on account of rising constructional activities in the Asia Pacific and Central & South America. Overhead costs associated with workplace fatalities is expected to increase product penetration in the segment over the foreseeable future.

Access full report or request for free sample at: https://www.hexaresearch.com/research-report/personal-protective-equipment-ppe-market

[snoringhq]

How to Block Snoring Forever

Despite the availability of many devices and procedures that aim to manage the problem, sometimes snoring is incurable. The market for products that prevent snoring and reduce the risk of airway obstructions is large, but results can vary significantly depending on the user. For some, they don’t work at all. This can be frustrating for affected parties, especially non-snorers that may lose sleep because of the noise. If your partner has tried anti-snoring devices, snoring pillows, or even surgery and still has a snoring problem, there are alternate solutions you can try to block snoring.

Methods of Blocking Snoring

If trying to eliminate the source hasn’t worked, try blocking the sound. Some individuals find that using a simple pair of earplugs blocks snoring. However, many others need more creative solutions. If sleeping on the couch doesn’t appeal to you or you can’t escape to a guest room, try listening to music or to mobile apps with prerecorded nature, water, or storm sounds. If you’re willing to invest in more expensive solutions to block snoring, purchase a pair of isolation or noise-cancelation headphones. White noise machines are another blocking device you can try.

Snoring’s Sound Frequencies

The average frequency range for snoring is approximately 45 to 55 decibels (dB), which is around the same loudness as a normal conversation. For comparison, the sound of a vacuum cleaner averages around 70 dB, and a chainsaw is roughly 100 decibels. Loud snoring is snoring that exceeds the 45 to 55 frequency and reaches levels of 65 dB or more. If your partner’s snoring is around 60 dB, more often than not, you’ll need a capable solution to block snoring.

Our Testing Methods and Goals

To determine the most effective way to block snoring, we used the Sound Meter App for Android and tested various against snoring videos on YouTube. Our goal is to provide readers with the best value solution to block snoring, so we kept parameters the same on each test and had multiple users assess the comfort of each item. We bought the products we examined from Amazon or individual retail sites.

What is the Most Effective Method for Blocking Snoring?

If you want a simple, direct way to block snoring, you could always get a pair of $1,000 custom earplugs tailor-made for snoring. Gun enthusiasts often buy these to block noise while shooting. There are also $300 to $400 white noise earplugs available, but there are cheaper and better ways to achieve the same results. While there’s nothing wrong with choosing expensive, high-end products, they don’t always work and many have mixed reviews from users.

At first, we thought we would find a single earplug or product that blocks snoring. However, during our testing trials, we realized that no one product can completely block snoring noises, although some are better than others. After testing items individually, we decided to mix and match products you can wear simultaneously. For example, you could wear sleeping earmuffs and earplugs or use a white noise machine while wearing earplugs. Read on to see the results.

Products We Tested

Hearos Extreme Protection Earplugs – The Hearos Extreme Protection Earplugs have the highest noise reduction capabilities of most foam earplug products. These plugs are soft, comfortable to wear, inexpensive, and able to reduce sound by as much as 33 decibels.

Etymotic Research HF5 Portable In-Ear Earphones – Etymotic’s earphones have the highest noise isolation of all in-ear earphones, as measured by an independent laboratory accredited by the National Institute of Standards and Technology. Etymotic’s HF5 series earphones are highly rated and deliver clear acoustics for audiophiles as well as excellent noise reduction for users who need to block noise from the outside world.

SleepPhones – AcousticSheep’s SleepPhones are soft headbands with built-in Bluetooth headphones. With SleepPhones, you can fall asleep while listening to music without worrying about wires tangling or your earphones slipping out of your ears. The headbands are made from a hypoallergenic material, and you can remove their wireless audio system when you need to wash them. SleepPhones are also rechargeable and have an average battery life of 8 to 12 hours.

Decibullz Custom Molded EarPlugs – As the name states, Decibullz earplugs are custom fit to the shape of your ear. These earplugs are well-made and comfortable. Buy these if you don’t like the feeling of standard earplugs or if your foam earplugs tend to fall out while you’re asleep.

Flare Audio Isolate PRO Titanium – On Facebook, this company advertises that the Flare Audio earplugs will block snoring, but it does nothing to block snoring noise. This is a truly terrible product. They ship internationally, don’t accept returns once you’ve opened the packaging. Stay away from these earplugs. They’re overpriced, you can’t return them once you try them, and they don’t offer anything you can’t get from using regular foam earplugs.

Ohro Reusable Wax Earplugs – Ohropax is a German company, and these earplugs have been their primary product for over 100 years. The Ohro wax earplugs protect your ears from harmful noises by forming an insulating seal in your ear. They are made from a soft, pliable hypoallergenic wax compound that fits easily inside the ear. These earplugs are meant to reduce noise over a large frequency spectrum while offering an excellent level of comfort.

Results Chart

Snoring Distance: 2-3 ft.Hearos Extreme ProtectionEtymotic HF5SleepPhones WirelessDecibullz Custom Molded Flare Audio Isolate PRO TitaniumOhro Reusable Wax Earplugs 45dB – 55dB (average snoring)Snoring is noticeable, but you can sleep through itSnoring is noticeable, but you can sleep through itMust play white noise to block out the snoring. Snoring is still noticeable.Snoring is still noticeable, but you can sleep through it Snoring is still bothersomeSnoring is still bothersome 55dB – 65dB (loud snoring)Snoring is still bothersome.Mutes Snoring sound.Must play loud white noise to block out the snoring. Snoring is bothersomeSnoring is still bothersome.Doesn’t help.Doesn’t help. 65dB+ (extreme snoring)Doesn’t help.Snoring is still bothersomeDoesn’t help.Doesn’t help.Doesn’t help.Doesn’t help. ComfortPassFail. It has wiresPassPassFailPass NRR Rating (higher is better)GeneralN/AN/AGeneralN/AGeneral Price14 pair for $4.74[$$-102]102[$$-100]100[$$-26]26[$$-62]62[$$-12]12 Worth Buying?YesNoMaybeYesNoYes, only to use with other products NotesVery comfortable, but can fall out. This has the highest sound blocking available.Not recommended for use while sleeping.Comfortable but may fall off during sleep. Not effective by itself to prevent snoring.Very comfortable. Stays in while sleeping. Lower snore blocking rating than foam earplugs.$62 earplugs do not work any better than cheap foam earplugs. Uncomfortable.These are old school earplugs that have been around since 1907. Comfortable but greasy.

Further Testing

After testing them individually, we tried pairing products together to take snore blocking even further. Since the product with the highest snore blocking capabilities was the Hearos with a 33 NRR rating, we decided to use it in conjunction with other sleep-friendly products. The Hearos are cheap and comfortable, but if you don’t like the feel of foam earplugs, the Decibullz molded earplugs are another choice. Ohro’s wax earplugs are also comfortable and won’t leave your ears sore in the morning. We analyzed the effectiveness of the following combinations:

SleepPhones w/Ambient Noise + Earplugs

Although this combination isn’t the most comfortable, it completely blocks average snoring levels. However, you might notice snoring if it’s considerably loud. Buying the SleepPhones and Hearos Earplugs together will be a bit pricey, but they work better than the white noise machine or the app.

Sleep Earmuffs + Earplugs

The Sleep Earmuffs and Hearos earplug combo works best for non-snorers who don’t like wearing earplugs. This pairing works well to block average snoring levels, but loud and extreme snoring noises may bleed through.

White Noise Mobile App + Earplugs

For these trials, we used the White Noise Free App for Android, the most popular background noise app in the Play Store. We tested the products with Ocean Waves and with Rainforest background sounds at a high volume. The only problem with these settings is the white noise could wake the snorer. We’re assuming the snoring is about 4 ft away from the white noise sound, and the non-snorer is one foot away.

Marpac Dohm-DS All Natural Sound Machine + Earplugs

The Marpac Dohm is a dome-shaped white noise machine that’s easy to use and promises to help drown out irritating noises. We placed the white noise machine about 1.5 ft away from the partner and set it to the highest volume possible. This was the best performing combination. When used together, these products provide a comfortable and effective solution to eliminating low-level snoring noises across the sound spectrum.

To successfully block snoring, place the classic Marpac white noise machine about 1 to 2 ft away from you on a nightstand and play it on highest volume that feels comfortable. Then, insert foam earplugs with a rating of NRR 31 or higher. This is the best solution we found for price, comfort, and success.

Combination Results

Parameters: Snoring Distance: 2-3 ft., White Noise Volume: High, White Noise Distance: 1-1.5 ft.White Noise Mobile App + Hearos Extreme EarPlugsSleepPhones w/Ambient Noise + Hearos Extreme Earplugs. Sleep Earmuffs + White Noise Marpac Dohm-DS All Natural Sound Machine + Hearos Extreme Earplugs. (winner) 45dB – 55dB (average snoring)Snoring is barely perceptible.Snoring cannot be heard.Snoring barely perceptible.Snoring cannot be heard. 55dB – 65dB (loud snoring)Snoring is noticeable, but you can sleep through it. Snoring is noticeable, but you can sleep through it.Snoring is noticeable, but you can sleep through it.Snoring is noticeable, but you can sleep through it. 65dB+Snoring is still bothersome.Snoring is noticeable, but you can sleep through it.Snoring is still bothersome.Snoring is noticeable, but you can sleep through it. NotesWhite Noise must be loud to block out snoring, may wake up the snorerWorks better than a white noise machine or white noise mobile app. Price is high. SleepPhones may fall off. Not the most comfortable solution.This is for the user that don’t like to wear earplugs. The Sleep earmuffs do very little to block out snoring by themselves. The Sleep Earmuffs are not comfortable for side sleeping.This is the best combination we found. The white noise machine, when placed close to the non-snorer does not disturb either sleeper. Very comfortable, cheap.

Other Possibilities

We didn’t test Bluetooth wireless earbuds with white noise streaming from a mobile app. Theoretically, you could play white noise all night while using the earbuds’ noise cancellation technology. This could offer promising results, so please let us know if you try this. Wire-free earbuds prices tend to fall between $50 and $300.

Our Advice

Make sure to use a combination of items. These products won’t do much to block snoring noises on their own, but when paired with other devices, they can make snoring significantly less noticeable. You also don’t want to sacrifice comfort for quietness. Products that block snoring noises aren’t worth buying if you can’t wear them to bed. Just use something that gets the snoring volume down to a level where you can sleep. Using 100% sound reduction products could cause you to miss a phone call, the fire alarm or other emergency sounds during the night. For sleepers who don’t enjoy wearing earplugs for extended periods, keep the products on the nightstand and put them on if snoring occurs.

Summary

In conclusion, no single device completely reduces snoring sounds. Therefore, you may need to try a few products simultaneously to successfully block snoring. While you consider noise blocking products, have your partner try more anti-snoring devices. Results vary by person, so many individuals give up after only trying a few. Smart pillows may help, so be sure to try them as well. If your partner is having trouble finding a capable anti-snoring device, have them read our reviews on anti-snoring mouthpieces.

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