#louella power oc

[live-laugh-loverpool]

The Powers That Be

Summary: When Liverpool hires Jonathan Powell as their new doctor, Klopp notices something familiar about Jonathan’s only daughter.

Tags: @millythegoat, @alissonbecksfan234, @moomin279, @lfc-fanfiction

When news came in that Jonathan Power, former FA doctor, would join Liverpool’s medical department, the staff decided to throw a small cocktail party. With all the injuries that had piled up recently, having a new doctor come in was a dream come true.

The coaching staff decorated the auditorium with red, gold and green decorations—it was getting close to Christmas, after all—and Nemmer prepared hors d'oeuvres. Everybody chipped in to prepare the drinks—non-alcoholic, of course, because nobody wanted to deal with a bunch of hangovers the following morning.

“So when’s he coming?” Chelsea asked, taking a sip from her cranberry spritz. “It better be soon, because us medics can’t handle the injury list by ourselves for much longer!”

“He arrives tomorrow.” Lijnders reached for a Lebkuchen, adding it to his mounting plate of food. “So by tomorrow, there’ll be six medics: you, Vera, Robert, Jim, Kerry and Jonathan.”

Klopp nodded in confirmation. He sneakily stole one of Lijnders’ cookies from his plate, avoiding a slap from the Dutchman. “He’s coming with his wife and daughter. I think I met him before, though.”

“You met him before? Where?” Kanchana buzzed with energy, bouncing on the balls of her feet. The Thai woman had a low sugar tolerance, and considering how many sugar cookies had disappeared from the platter, she’d clearly overdone it. “In the park? On the beach?”

Vera shook her head, massaging her wife’s shoulders. “How many times did you head to the chocolate fountain, Chan?”

“Dunno. Four times, maybe?”

The Malagasy medic raised an eyebrow at Kanchana. “You sure you haven’t had a little too much of those margaritas, babe?”

“What margaritas? I didn’t have any margaritas,” Kanchana protested. “You know I can’t have any alcohol, dear.”

Klopp rolled his eyes at the couple. “I don’t remember where I met Jonathan, Chan. It was more than five years ago, and I think Zeljko was still here…” He trailed off, and for a moment his eyes glazed over. But then Klopp briskly nodded at nothing in particular, refilling his glass of ginger ale. “Oh, it’s nothing. Probably my old memory dreaming up stories again.”

“Your stories are true,” Lijnders argued. But it was only half-heartedly, and he hastily stuffed his face with more cookies. “Then again, we’ve all had a slip-up or two in our memory.”

Klopp nodded, but as he walked away, his scowl only grew deeper. “I’m sure I met a Jonathan before,” he muttered to himself, passing the snack table. “But where? And when? I just can’t remember the time.”

As if the radio was listening to him, Michael Jackson’s “Remember The Time” began blasting over the PA system. Klopp decided to let his thoughts go, grabbing Lijnders as the other staff filled the dance floor. There were some songs one just couldn’t resist dancing to, and this was one of them.

*

As promised, Jonathan arrived around noon the next day. Klopp, Lijnders and the medics met him in the Kirby foyer, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries.

“Nice to meet you all!” Jonathan was polite and pleasant, but he nervously fiddled with the buttons on his blazer. “If I may, I’d like to introduce my wife, Louella.”

A bright-eyed, curly-haired woman in an burgundy coat walked up to Klopp, shaking his hand. “Oi, glad we finally met, you old German relic. You sure you didn’t run into an aging machine? Your hair’s as gray as a raincloud.”

“I warned the mass: this team will give me gray hairs!” Klopp smiled and nodded at Louella, clasping her hand. “But yes, pleased to meet you as well.”

Louella smirked, then looked back over her shoulder. “Arwen, dear! Hurry up, we can’t stay out in the draft too long!”

Arwen. The name hit Klopp like a ton of bricks. He staggered backwards, clutching Lijnders for support.

“Arwen’s our daughter, remember?” said Jonathan, as if he could read Klopp’s mind. “I told you in our Zoom interview a few days ago.”

“Why…yes, yes you did.” Now Klopp was sure something was familiar. But whereas yesterday his mind was hyperfocused on remembering where he’d seen Jonathan, now all he could think about was Arwen. Arwen, Arwen, Arwen. Where have I heard your name before?

A sharp, cold gust of wind blew in, and promptly ended. In the place of the open doorway, there stood a young girl, around eight.

“Arwen!” Jonathan turned towards the girl, a larger than life smile stretching across his jaws. “This is Klopp and the rest of the staff. We’re finally meeting in person!”

As Arwen went from staff member to staff member, Klopp took in every detail of her. Her wavy dark hair, plaited into a single braid with green beads. Her small, bushy eyebrows, hung over clear hazel-green eyes. Her lopsided yet genuine smile, bright white except where a tooth was missing. Her chrome and black wheelchair, with an orange and green flower sticker on one handle.

She was Arwen Power. An eight-year old girl. And now Klopp was sure he had seen her before, and where.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Lila wheeled up to Klopp. She strained her neck to make eye contact, and Klopp bent slightly so it would be easier.

“Klopp, I…” A speechless Arwen shook her head, her braid flying wildly. “You’re standing right in front of me. I can’t help it, but it’s just like…damn, you’re here. Wait, that came out wrong—”

“It’s fine, I swear all the time! I’ve been trying to stop, but it’s almost impossible.” Klopp took Arwen’s extended hand and shook it. “Welcome to the family—er, I mean club.”

“No, he meant family.” Lijnders chuckled at his own joke, while Robert elbowed him.

Klopp rolled his eyes at the two’s antics, but deep inside his conscience was being eaten alive. Even though the events had happened years ago, the guilt still bothered him whenever it was triggered—like today.

“Hey, folks! Would you mind giving me a chance to talk to Louella and Jonathan alone?” He had to get this off his conscience before he went insane.

Most of the staff nodded, leaving without a fuss. Vera, who was having a good conversation with Louella, began to protest, but Lijnders took one glance at Klopp and motioned for Vera to let them talk.

“So, what do you want to talk about, boss?” said Jonathan. “The injury list? Estimated return dates? Living accommodations?”

“No, no and no. I was just wondering…” Klopp tried to make this sentence sound as nice as possible. "Can I…talk with your daughter?”

“Sure, but why?” Jonathan barely managed to hide his snickering. You’re not going to give her the Barcelona treatment, are you?”

“No, no. I’ve done enough already.” Klopp said that part with a hint of regret. “You know what happened. That day. Arwen doesn’t know the whole story.”

Jonathan’s eyes widened, while Louella whispered a faint “oh, god”.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, folks.” Klopp turned on his heel, walking towards the staircase that was the bane of his existence. “I’ve got to get this off my conscience.”

*

He found Arwen in the cafeteria, checking out the room. She was rather agile in wheeling her chair around, often performing the necessary maneuvers with one hand while the other was left unoccupied.

Klopp sighed, taking a seat near the pool table. Imagine if she could have both hands free and still move.

“Arwen!”

“Coming!” Arwen flashed Klopp a thumbs-up, wheeling her chair towards where he stood.

Once Arwen was right in front of him, Klopp found himself speechless. How was he supposed to tell Arwen that his mistake deprived her of the ability to walk? How would he explain that he was unable to catch her, thus letting her fall, as a baby?

Johann Cruyff, have mercy on me.

Somehow, Arwen seemed to sense the tension in the air. “You’ve got a nice training ground here, Klopp,” she said as if to break the ice. “I’m looking forward to coming here.”

“You may not look forward to it as much,” Klopp confessed, “if you knew the whole truth.”

“What whole truth?” Arwen queried. “Klopp, I know I’m adopted; Mum and Dad told me. I know you’re the Liverpool manager; you’re the only manager of this club that I remember. I know that I’m in a wheelchair because of an accident that happened when I was one. I know a lot of things.”

Klopp shook his head, not looking at Arwen directly. “You don’t know everything, though.”

“Alright. Test me.” Arwen defiantly placed her hands on her hips. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

There was no way out of this, and Klopp knew it. “We’ve met before. You were much younger than you are now…”

“Okay, go on.” Arwen flinched, but outwardly she remained calm.

Klopp nodded in silent agreement, focusing on Arwen’s flower sticker. If I just get straight to the story, maybe I can do this.

“I was trimming the garden when Zeljko and I found you in a rosebush. That was why we called you Rose at first. I know, not the most imaginative name in history. We both had a soft spot for you, and we’d often catch each other rocking you to sleep—or asleep in a rocking chair next to your bassinet.”

Arwen’s eyes widened, and the young girl flinched again. “You…you found me? You and Zeljko Buvac found me, as a baby?”

“Yeah. Anyways, the important thing is that you were extremely agile. You could walk, run and climb.” He sighed, fingering the hem of his shirtsleeves. “Too well, in fact.”

She quizzically tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean by ‘too well’? Did I do something bad?”

“No! No, not at all.” Klopp made a mental note to be careful when talking to Arwen. She was catching on—but in exactly the wrong way, blaming herself for what she didn’t even know yet. “One day when neither Zeljko or I were watching, you managed to climb out of your playpen and into a tall tree.”

“I could climb trees at one time?” Arwen echoed, and Klopp didn’t really blame her. Arwen had no memories of herself at one, so she had known herself to be disabled her whole life.

“Zeljko tried to get you from above, while I started climbing the tree from the trunk,” Klopp continued. “I desperately told you not to move, but you got so excited when you saw Zeljko coming, that you tried to pull yourself to a stand. You slipped off the branch and plummeted to the ground with a hard, loud thunk. I tried to jump and save you, but…I was too high up on the tree.”

“So I fell from the tree.”

“Yes. As soon as you landed, you didn’t just cry. You screamed and wailed, and that’s how I knew there was more than just regular pain. Zeljko took one look at you and dialed an ambulance, telling me to hold you. You were hospitalized, and the spinal damage paralyzed you from the waist down.”

“But then…” Arwen had grown quiet as the story had went on. For a brief moment, a flicker of sadness crossed Arwen’s eyes. “Why didn’t you want me? Why didn’t you keep me?”

Those last sentences in particular felt like an arrow to his heart. Drawing a breath, he answered, “I was…scared. I was scared that you would get hurt again in my care, because to be fair, I’m pretty clumsy. What if I hurt you again? So I put you up for adoption, and Jonathan and Louella adopted you.”

Klopp leant against the pool table for support. He felt slightly dizzy and drained, and his conscience felt strangely…heavier. Wasn’t this supposed to ease the guilt? “Arwen, I’m so sorry. You can’t walk, because I couldn’t catch you when you fell from the tree.”

“I…I don’t blame you,” said Arwen. “I always thought it was my birth parents who had me before Mom and Dad. I always thought they didn’t want me because I’m in a wheelchair. But now that you told me the real reason…I think I can forgive you.”

“But you never even knew that I was part of your life until now,” Klopp argued. “And now you can’t walk!”

“The fact that you tried to catch me, and then made sure I was safe afterwards, was enough. If anything, it was my fault as well for climbing the tree.” Arwen came even closer to Klopp, grin as lopsided as before. “So basically, we’re even. There’s no need to feel guilty about it.”

“That’s…” Klopp still reeled with shock. She’d forgave him! After all those years of locked-away guilt and wondering, Arwen had forgave him. “Thank you, Arwen. That’s very generous and mature of you. Your parents raised you well.”

“What do you think? You made a good choice.” Arwen raised her hands to the sky, eyes alight once more. “Let’s hug.”

Klopp wasted no time at all, engulfing Arwen in a mammoth embrace. “That’s what I was going to say!”

[charmingsoa]

■ Bring it On Home to Me (two) ■ John Egan x OC ■ ■ Multi chapter story ■

⚠ Chapter warning ⚠ Mentions of sexual content, cursing, use of slurs, mention of abuse.

Author's note: Hello again! So, first of thank you so much to everyone that has read the first chapter! I really appreciate it. I've been kind of in a slump with this story, having so many ideas, and trying to figure out how to piece everything together. It's definitely a work in progress. I have added past and present as well in this chapter, but going forward, I kind of want to time jump. Like I want to jump around their relationship instead of each chapter being in the same time period. Would you all be okay with that or would it be too confusing. Like I could add time stamps if that would be helpful? Please just let me know whichever you all prefer. Again, you guys are amazing and I thank you all ❤️

✪ If you would like to be tagged, just leave a comment ✪

I watched from the corner as he slept peacefully – the turmoil of war erased from his gorgeous features as the night slowly crept into daylight. Our time together was quickly coming to an end – an end that would more than likely be terminal. He was an American soldier – a major – a pilot that would either soar like an eagle or crash like so many before him.

John Egan was a charming man – one that could sweep you off your feet with just one look. I had gone to the bar down from Louella’s, the night too slow for any business. She had sent most of us home, choosing to close for the evening. Rumor had it, she was expecting one of her “high ranking” gentleman friend – a German that didn’t want to be identified.

I didn’t want to go back to Aunt Beatrice’s – already knowing that she wouldn’t approve of a cashless night. All I wanted to do was nurse a drink or two – maybe get a dance from a lonely attendee. I wasn’t looking to get into anyone’s bed, let alone spend the whole night making love in the shadows of the bombs that were exploding on the outskirts of town.

Watching as he made his way further into the bar, I couldn’t help but take sneak peaks. His uniform fitting him just right – the chip on his shoulder being held up nicely by his cocky attitude. His drink of choice was whiskey – raw whiskey. One glass after another – his body holding a tight grip on sobriety.

The way his lips tasted of the liquor made me want more – more of his lips, more of his touch. This wasn’t a fuck and pay situation – Louella was not in charge of this union. I think what made it that more powerful was the fact that there was a high chance we would never see one another again. He was an American who just so happened to be sent to the city for some reprieve – a night away from the battlefield to unwind and relax. A time that most soldiers would come into Lou’s for an hour to two of pleasure – their wives or girlfriends back home oblivious to what happened behind the closed doors of the bordello. As soon as their time was over, they would go back to their hotels and call their significant others – whispering sweet nothings in their innocent ears.

As my time with John progressed into the night, the thought of never seeing him again remained in my mind. His promise, whether it was from the liquor or his grandiose illusions, of taking me away from all this was left as an empty promise. This man didn’t know me from Adam, only the tracking of my body as his head found its position between my legs. Many had come before him promising the same – a beautiful life back in the states – a life away from Louella’s bordello and Aunt Beatrice’s abuse. I would just smile and go on – both of us knowing that once they left those doors, everything would be forgotten.

Quietly, I rose from the chair, tiptoeing in the darkness as I started collecting my wardrobe. Each glance at John’s sleeping figure making my heart race and ache simultaneously. How I wanted to just stay locked in those strong arms, listening as he spoke of what he had seen on the frontline or stories of his childhood. He was the first person I had opened up to as well – speaking of my late mother and father – the living situation that I was in now as with Aunt Beatrice being the only family left. All this talking happening in between sessions of love making – a short intermission as we let our bodies rest up for the next round.  The tone of his voice creating a fire in my core as it got huskier as the octaves lowered.

“You leavin without saying goodbye?”

Stopping dead in my tracks, my eyes darting over to the bed as John stared back at me. “it’s not nice to fuck and run, darlin.”

I watched as he picked up the pack of cigarettes, the sheet lying low on his hips as he leaned against the headboard. His hair was disheveled from the pillow, his tired eyes watching my every move as I shifted around. “It’s better off that way.”

He let out a sigh, releasing a plume of smoke between his pursed lips. “Says the one who’s running away.”

I slowly pulled on my undergarments, taking a seat on the side of the bed as his eyes bore into my frame. “I’m not the woman you need in your life, John.” My voice low. “It’s not fair to either of us to keep acting like we’re gonna see one another outside of these walls again.”

“Wow-“He chuckled annoyed. “Sounds like you're killing me off – telling me that I’m not making it back home.” My face expressionless as I looked at him. “You obviously don’t know me very well, little girl.”

I shook my head, “That’s not what I’m saying but I’ve seen it enough to know that that could be the case. But, even if you do make it, survive this hell that we’re all in, I’m sure there’s a beautiful American girl waiting back home for you.” The tears forming in my eyes. “A girl who’s not tainted by the spills of other men –“

“I don’t want that-“His hand grabbing onto mine. “You’re the one that I want – you’re the one that I want to see standing on that front porch when I get home from work. I want to be able to wake up next to you every damn day. I want to watch you waddle around the house as our children grow in your stomach. I want you to get annoyed at me for every little thing.” A sad smile forming on my face. “ I don’t know a damn thing about you, but I know that you’re the one that I’m bringing back to the states come hell or high water.”

We stayed still for a moment – no words said between the two of us – just silence filling the already quiet room. I wanted so badly to cling to his every word –to just go off into the sunset with this strange man that I had known for less than six hours.

My hand pulled from his as I stepped away from the bed. I quickly pulled my dress back over my head, buckling my heels as I stood in front of the mirror. His reflection could be seen plain as day, his head hanging low as tears welled up in my eyes. I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye – a goodbye that I didn’t even want to think about saying. What if his plane were to go down one day – the thought of just leaving with no words would eat me alive if I ever found out he had passed.

“John?”

His head slowly lifting in response as I stepped back to where he sat. His strong arm instantly pulling me into his chest as I wrapped my arm around his neck, my lips faintly connecting to his skin. We sat there way for a moment before I pulled away, his gorgeous blue eyes glassed over with tears.

“You take care of yourself, Major Egan.” The pad of my index finger lightly tracing his plump lip.

He didn’t say anything, just nodding his head as his grip on me loosened. If this wasn’t my chance to leave, then I would have stayed for the rest of eternity. I didn’t bother with one last kiss or one last hug – I simply pulled away from his touch for the last time, marching out of the hotel room before I could change my mind.

I watched as Aunt Beatrice sat next to the fireplace, the flame running low due to the dampness in the small room. I shifted nervously as she remained silent – not even an expression on her aged face. I already knew that my news would not be taken well – Loella basically throwing me out of the building once I told her. Telling me that she was just keeping me around because she felt sorry for me. – not like I was one of her top earners among the servicemen. I had left John back at the hotel – letting him know that this needed to be done in private. If Beatrice caught wind of John being around, that would only set her off even more.

“You’re running off to your American dream and I’m being left here to rot.” Her voice low. “After everything I’ve done for you, Vanessa.” Her piercing green eyes whipping in my direction. “After I took you in when you had no one – I put a roof over your head when you should’ve been wasting away on the streets like everyone told me to do.”

“You made me sell myself – made me give up my virginity so you could have your bills paid.” I began to speak. “Had me out there working for Lou every night just so you could sit on your ass and collect the money in the morning. Do you even know what some of those men made me do in order to earn that money?”

“Bullocks!” The packed ashtray shattering against the wall behind me from the force of her throw. “I didn’t hear you complaining when those men were buying you fancy dresses and expensive jewelry. You were sitting pretty every single night just asking to be fucked like the whore you are. You could have quiet at any time – took a job anywhere else – in those factories down by the river – but no. Don’t act like you were keeping me up, sweetheart. If it wasn’t for me, you would be dead and buried somewhere just like your fucking parents.”

This was going nowhere – there would never be a resolution between her and I. It was pointless to keep the argument going because there was no way, even if there were proven facts, that she would backdown and forgive and forget. She was a hateful and spiteful woman.

When Aunt Beatrice passed away, I didn’t find out until four months later. I had been living in the States for almost two years by that point. She had told the hospital that she didn’t have any living family members – saying that they all died years ago. She was buried in a pine box at the poplar cemetery with all the other individuals that didn’t have the means for a proper burial. No tombstone – no marker. It would take many years after the fact for me to forgive and forget myself.

I ran a hand through my hair, the frustration boiling over as I pulled at the strands in silent anger. "You truly are a miserable old bitch," the words spilled out, a release of pent-up emotions that had been building for far too long. "Always wanting those around you to be just as miserable as you are. Well-"

I closed the distance between us, stepping closer until our faces were mere inches apart. The fire in my eyes matched the intensity of my words. "I'm no longer that little girl who's afraid of you. You can't use that cane or ash shovel to beat me anymore. You can't call me hurtful names or tell me that my parents died because they didn't want me as their daughter."

The air crackled with tension as I held her gaze, unflinching. The weight of years of abuse and manipulation hung heavy in the space between us, but I stood tall, my resolve unshakeable.

"And when that rent payment is due," I continued, my voice low but filled with a newfound strength, "you will never have me pinned down to the mattress as those bastards from the bank have their way with me."

The creak of the floorboard caused us both to look up as John stood in the doorway, his hands shoved in his pockets, his expression unreadable. Beatrice's body stiffened, her eyes narrowing as she processed the words I had just spoken.

"Well," she began, a sickening smile spreading across her face, “Looks like we have ourselves a visitor.” I felt a surge of anger rise within me, but I forced myself to remain composed. Stepping forward, my heels clicking against the floor, I took my place next to John. His arm wrapped protectively around my middle, a silent gesture of support and solidarity in the face of Beatrice's barbed words.

"If it isn't the little tinker soldier coming to whisk the distressed maiden off to a great new world." Her tone was laced with sarcasm, each word cutting through the tense silence of the room. “Tell me, Major.” She struggled to stand. “How does it feel knowing that ever soldier from here to Russia has had a taste of your little tart’s pussy? Knowing that your dick and hundreds of other dicks have been in the same hole – a stretched-out hole for someone who’s only 19 years old.”

John's tall frame began to move forward, his muscles tensing with anger as Beatrice's cruel words hit their mark. I acted on instinct, my arm reaching out to stop him from advancing any closer towards her. I could feel the heat of his rage radiating off him, his jaw clenched tightly as he struggled to contain his emotions.

Beatrice stood her ground, her expression unreadable, almost daring John to lash out at her. The tension in the room was palpable, thick with unspoken words and unresolved conflicts that hung in the air like a heavy fog.

I held John back, my grip firm but gentle, silently urging him to stay his hand. Despite the torrent of emotions swirling within me, I knew that violence was not the answer, no matter how much Beatrice's words cut deep.

"Don't," I whispered to John, my voice barely above a breath. "She's not worth it. Let's not give her the satisfaction."

John's gaze flickered to mine, a storm of conflicting emotions raging in his eyes. Slowly, he began to relax under my touch, the tension in his body easing as he took a deep breath to steady himself.

With a final, defiant glare at Beatrice, John stepped back, his fists unclenching at his sides. The standoff between them remained unbroken, the silent confrontation speaking volumes of the deep-seated animosity that simmered just beneath the surface.

"Go get your stuff," John's voice cut through the tension, sharp and commanding. His words were a clear directive, a signal that it was time to leave this toxic environment behind.

I glanced between John and Beatrice, their silent standoff continuing as I quietly shuffled past Beatrice, determined not to engage further in her games. With purposeful strides, I made my way to my makeshift room, the weight of the impending departure settling heavily on my shoulders.

I wasted no time in gathering my belongings, selecting only the most essential items and packing them into the duffle bag that the army had provided John during his service. The meager possessions I owned were carefully chosen and placed with care, each item a precious link to a past I was preparing to leave behind.

As I sifted through my belongings, a mix of emotions washed over me - sadness, anger, but also a glimmer of hope for a new beginning. I knew that I would have to leave behind most of my things, the material possessions that held little value compared to the memories they carried.

Clothing could easily be replaced, but the mementos that my parents had given me were irreplaceable. Each trinket, each keepsake held a piece of their love and guidance, a reminder of the family I had lost but never forgotten.

As I slung it over my shoulder, ready to embark on the journey ahead, I felt a sense of liberation and determination take root within me. The road to America beckoned, and I was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, armed with the strength of my resolve and the unwavering support of John by my side.

John gently removed the pack from my shoulder as I reentered the living room.

"You're making a grave mistake, Vanessa," Beatrice's tone filled with contempt as she spoke. Her eyes bore into mine, searching for any sign of doubt or weakness. "Do you truly believe that this man will fulfill his promises of calling you his wife and providing you with the perfect life in America?"

I remained silent, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a response. The doubts that she tried to sow in my mind were like seeds of discord, but I refused to let them take root. I knew the strength of the bond between John and me, and I held onto the hope of a better future with unwavering conviction.

A bitter smirk played on Beatrice's lips as she continued, her words dripping with disdain. "If you believe in such fairy tales, then you are even more of a mug than I thought you were. Don't be blinded by false promises and empty dreams, Vanessa. Reality has a cruel way of shattering illusions."

I met her gaze steadily, refusing to flinch under the weight of her scorn.

"Any place that's away from you and this godforsaken place will be considered a fairytale ending,"

[ikeytv]

Hello!! Hope you are well?? ^.^ Your newest OC is super cool!! And...it is just me but I am getting Cromdo's kid vibes with her?? 030 I just wondered but she is a cutie all the same! Also, IF she is Cromdo's kiddo, do you think she'd get on well with my OC, Louella Macapeach? (Whom I ship with Crom <3)

I'm doing pretty good, thanks for asking! As for my OC, yeah those were the vibes I was going for. I mean, two siblings can end up on the island without knowing so, why not a dad and his daughter he hasn't seen in ~12-15 years? As for your OC, it can be a bit of a coin flip when it comes to optimistic people (She's fine with Wiggle, but gets annoyed with Filbo), but I think they'd get along alright. Besides, Coffad didn't end on a very high note with her mother, so if her dad's found someone else, more power to him.

[ask-glitch-bitch]

[ @oc-rp-louella ]

Anti paced nervously outside his daughter's bedroom, panic rising in his chest as he recounted what had happened. Only a few weeks ago, Ruth had been happily playing with her older brother outside with her train set while he practised his powers for the first time. But in recent days, she had become increasingly unresponsive to games, complaining she ached all the time and was tired and didn't want to play. He and Lou had put it down to growing pains, since she was only 7 and still small for her age. That was when things took a turn for the worst. He had gone to wake her up that morning and she hadn't responded. She had a cold sweat, her skin was pale, and she had been sick multiple times after she finally woke up. They had called a doctor immediately - he was in the bedroom performing a diagnosis on her.