#it's always the fear each time a character is released in a new media
Note
Engage dialogue makes me sad honestly also now because of certain Changes that I don’t like. Engage Ike and FEH Ike is “I am shonen protagonist who cares for his friends but loves to fight.” YKB just in Engage to be cutesy and no one mentions that she started a war. I know Engage is fanservice but I wish the fanservice wasn’t FEH remix. Billy is surprisingly cute at least, it made straight men angry when he says things like “hello I am Billy I like flowers and fishing and tea time.” But then it made me sad because Billy can get murdered in Hopes and no one seems to care about the Church anymore even though this Billy seems perfect for Lizard Family Time
Veronica just made me extremely angry! She’s just a gimmick! Her attack is just a dumb, stupid, easter egg mechanic “heehee we included FEH summoning!” Maybe I should be grateful Engage is silly fanservice instead of No Hopes pretentious with dumber fans, but I would have wanted a silly game that isn’t winking at us to spend money in FEH, look it has characters from past games ;;;;)))
If this is the future for the games, I am not buying it yet
Anon,
I'm not the biggest Veronica fan, far from it actually so...
I was always not going to give a fig about her, especially since her base game doesn't either (where is Book 1 Vero?) and gave her a kind of proto-Supreme Leader, without all the things that made Supreme Leader, or should have made Supreme Leader, interesting.
seriously IS should stop to give the "uwu brainwashed!" treatment to their female antagonists for once
I think that was to be expected in a legacy/celebration game, especially since Heroes already flanderised past characters, you can't dwelve that much about Siggy's character arc or uwu about Ike being such a chad when the character dgaf about Tellius post FE10 and ditches his family to live a new "big adventure" with his boyfriend(s).
Billy being cute with his flowers and habit of picking stuff, singing (and dancing!) and eating a lot was already aluded in Nopes, which also reinforced the Jerry isn't the bestest parent ever in that game, but it was eluded because Nopes's "plot" commended us not to care, else some messages would be blurred and Nopes made it clear the game doesn't care about nabateans or nabatean related characters. But I still find a guilty pleasure each time a new Billy alt in FEH is released or with his Engage supports, because it shits on the commonly accepted fandom characterisation of Billy as a caveman who is an ardent follower of r/atheism and prefers to let the world burn because he wants to swing a sword and doesn't want responsabilities.
As for Supreme Leader, well, I still remind firmly convinced her FB's as F!Supreme Leader and B!Supreme Leader were happy flukes, the FeH writers trying to tackle themes/plots FE16 didn't dare to because uwu factor, but now? Supreme Leader is just a bland moeblob used to sell - as if her sailor fuku wasn't a warning sight.
I actually feel bad for what her character was supposed to be, she was just flanderised to be "the chick" in the trio who thirsts after the player character, when she could/should have been much more but... I mostly don't really care tbh.
#anon#replies#fe disengage#sort of#it's always the fear each time a character is released in a new media#i mean an old character#will the new media keep his characterisation?#coupled with the kind of foggy notion about what emblems are supposed to be#and we end up with flanderisation#but don't worry a lot of games suffer from it#let it be in crossovers or in gachas#the tales franchise comes to mind
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Dirty Work 48
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.
Characters: Loki
Note: My tumblr page wouldn't load on PC so I hope this posts?
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
A moan flutters between your lips as Loki's mouth closes around your nipple. His fingers daintily brush over the bruise along the other side of your chest, lingering on the bite mark before quickly trailing down. He fondles you as he swirls his tongue and hums, the low note rolling through you.
Your chest coils tight as you lay helpless. This isn't what you want, you want to talk, yet you cannot stop him or the heat coursing from your core. You tilt your chin up, arching your spine as he tickles along your side.
You close your eyes and try to push away the thoughts storming inside of you. Forget about everything; about Thor, and the locked door, and that fear plucking at your chest. This is what you're supposed to do. As long as he wants this, you still have a place here.
He brushes along the angle of your pelvis and down the crease of your thigh. You gasp as his touch sends a chill through you. He drags himself down your body, feeling along your legs as he lifts your feet onto the bed. You bend your knees, open to him as he slithers over the edges.
He kneels at the side of the bed and you turn your head away, shy as he glides a finger between your folds. You push your hands down to cover yourself, knowing he's looking at you.
He pulls your hands apart, twining his fingers through yours as he leans forward. You tense as his breath scours you and he delves his tongue along your cunt. You squeak and spasm at the cool sensation as it mingles with your warmth.
Your toes curl as he dives into you, cling to your hands as he laps you up ravenously. You moan and squeeze your thighs against his head. You rock as he teases you just so, tasting you with delighted growls.
He lets go of one hand, drawing his down, tracing a line along your flesh and down to your thigh. His tongue flicks over your clit as he prods along your entrance, toying with you as he spreads the slickness gathering there.
You whine as he dips a fingertip inside, he pulls in and out, sliding deeper each time. Your walls clench around him as your nerves ping against each other. You reach down without a thought, latching onto the coils of his hair.
He pushes another finger into you, sinking up to his knuckles. He rocks his hand in time with the motion of his tongue dancing around your tender bud. You tilt your hips towards him, welcoming him in as you block out the world on the other side of your eyelids.
You feel the bloom inside of you, like a morning glory opening to the sweet rays of sunlight. Your breath hitches and your muscles draw tight. You grit your teeth down on a moan and tug at his hair, rolling against his mouth, pleading wordlessly for more.
He keeps going, faster, deeper, working his hand against you as he drinks in your pleasure. You pant wildly as you ascend, higher and higher, and the wave crests, crashing down on you in tendrils. You twitch and whine, giving in to the sheer ecstasy of his touch.
He doesn't relent. He releases your other hand and spreads his hand wide across your stomach as if to hold you there. You couldn't move if you tried. You're so overwrought by his tending, your legs slip down and dangle over the edge.
You lift your head and your lashes part. You peer down at his dark strands as they drape over your pelvis, tickling along your lower stomach. The very sight of him lights a new fire in you. You fall limp and drone weakly. It's too much and yet you don't want him to stop.
Another orgasm breaks within you. This one has your voice pitchy as it piques. You cry out and thrash, the scattering of your nerves too intense.
You yank on his hair and push on the side of his head.
“Please, please, I can't…” you beg.
He chuckles against your cunt and rams his fingers as far as they'll go. You squeal and jolt on the mattress, pulling a hand asay to slap the bed.
“Please,” you whimper, “Loki…”
“Yesss,” he hisses and flicks his tongue up, “say my name, pet.”
“Loki,” you huff, “Loki, please…”
He purrs as he tastes you again, growling into you. You squirm and clasp the blanket, dragging it towards you as your nails graze his scalp. Your eyes roll back and you suck in air through your nose.
“Loki!” You exclaim, “Loki, I-I–”
You quake as you cum a third time. The bed trembles with you as you sink into the waves. Your hand falls away from his head and you just lay there in surrender.
He raises his head, parting from you as his humid breath stains your skin. You shiver as he slips his fingers from you, dragging them between your folds and you close your legs. He retracts his touch with a snarl and stands.
As he looms over you, you fold onto your side. Your heart raises, breath bated, skin buzzing. You watch his shadow against the wall as he unbuttons his shirt.
You inhale and let your eyes close. You're tired already. You listen to the rustle of his clothing as he undresses. A current flows through you at the thought of what he'll do next. A tremor at the question mark still between you.
He crawls onto the bed. He urges you onto your back as he brings himself over you, keeping himself cradled between your open legs. He sweeps his hand along your hairline and down your cheek, framing your face as he bows to kiss you.
His nose presses against yours but the pain fades into the echoes of delight. He curls his other arm beneath you. He breaks away from your lips and smears his mouth down your cheek. He nibbles and nuzzles down to your neck.
His hand creeps down to your chest once more, savouring every curve and line, doting on every inch. His naked body crushes yours into the bed as he growls and nips at your throat. You moan as his length rubs against you.
He shifts his knees, lifting himself, angling his tip down and gliding it along your cunt. You grasp the back of his head, chest clutching, muscles knotted. Are you ready for this?
It doesn't matter. He isn't stopping and you can't make him. His hand snakes down as he guides himself along your folds, wetting himself as he groans into the crook of your neck. He pushes against you, your body resisting his intrusion.
You hook your other arm around his neck, hugging him as he rocks, working against the invisible barrier. He eases inside, stretching you around his swollen tip as you whine and whimper. Your eyes prick with tears as ripples sear through you.
He wiggles his hips, patiently tilting until he slides a bit further. You gasp and push your head back, your arm looping tighter around his neck as you clutch his arm with your other hand. He breathes against your skin as he thrusts carefully, each time a little further.
“Mmm,” he purrs, “pet, you're so good…” his teeth pinch you again, “how could I not want this.”
He delves in even deeper and you exclaim. A heavy pain fills you as he overrides the last of your resistance. You dig your nails into his firm muscle as his hand slips beneath your ass, lifting your pelvis against him.
He sinks to his limit and your tears flow over. Through the agony, the spark remains, burning hot through your core. He unhooks his other arm from beneath you and stretches his hand across your neck, his fingers closing around your throat as he pushes his lips to your cheek.
He rolls his hips as you whimper. You gnash your teeth and you flutter your lashes against the swell of pain. Slowly it recedes and once more you plunge into the raging tides.
The bed moves with him, scraping on the floor as he ruts hard and faster. He puffs against your cheek, gristly whispers wafting into your ear, “pet… so delicious… mine…”
He squeezes your neck tighter as he picks up his motion. The friction of his pelvis strikes heat in your clit, burning hotter and hotter with his tempo. You wheeze above his grip and whine, spasming through another climax.
“Say it,” he snarls.
You obey, “Loki.”
“Louder,” he demands, pounding you into the bed, his body flush to yours, sweaty skin sticking together.
“Loki!” You bluster.
“Pet,” he growls as he buries himself in you over and over. “Do you feel… how much I want you?”
You moan and bite your lip, quivering in the dregs of your orgasm.
“Do you?” He rasps.
“Y-yes,” you babble.
He grunts and tears his hand from your throat. He brings both arms beneath you, hooking his fingers around your shoulders as he hangs his head down next to yours. He rams into you with all his strength, fucking you so you bounce against the bed.
Again, the pressure aches in you. It doesn't take much for it to snap again. You drone madly as pleasure flows from you. Loki drives harder and harder until you think you might break.
He growls and grunts, whipping his hair behind his head as he lifts himself. He slides out of you, your insides twitching, and slides his length along your tender lips, rubbing himself against your cunt as he tenses and shakes.
He cums with a gritty series of groans spilling hotly onto your pelvis and stomach, spreading the mess with his slowing motion. He drops his head and puffs. Dazed and drained, you reach to touch his shining stands. He flinches and raises his head, looking down at you with fiery hunger in his eyes.
He angles himself back and eases down, slipping inside of you once more. You squeal, oversensitive and worn out. He shudders and lifts you, sitting on his heels as he brings you onto his lap.
“Pet,” he utters, his tone agonized, “you will never leave me.”
He covers your mouth with his, swallowing down your shallow breaths as he rock you atop him. He trembles as he does, small whimpers spilling into you. But he doesn't stop. It's as if he means to consume you entirely.
You melt into his kiss and his embrace. You don't have the strength to deny him, you don't even have the energy to think. The world beyond your bodies is fuzzy and insignificant.
✨
The afternoon wears on in shades of blue. You lay beneath Loki’s arm as he dozes beside you. He needs the sleep so you let him be, happy to see him rest.
As you lay trapped, you grow restless. You shift from his grasp, gently leading his arm over the pillow. You get up, careful not to jostle too much, and retreat to the bathroom.
You relieve the pressure in you and sigh up at the ceiling. You rinse yourself and stand gingerly, thighs pulsing as they meet. You limp to the mirror and wince at your reflection.
You forgot it all. The tree cracking cartilage, the stain of dirt and blood, the unheard pleas. You grip the counter and hunch over the sink.
And what is so different now? Loki didn't want to hear you so he took. He took exactly what you promised but is it any better?
You feel sick and dizzy. It's just the concussion. It's the whirlwind of it all. You can't think straight.
You wanted it too, didn't you? You begged for more. You moaned in delight. You even came you don't know how many times.
So why does it feel so… strange?
You close your eyes and turn on the facet. You dab water around your face, trying not to wet the bandages, and centre yourself. There isn't much of a centre to be found. You are more lost than ever before.
He wants you, but do you want this? Do you even know what this is? It's all foggy and he refuses to wipe the glass clean.
You shut off the water and raise your head. Your eyes widen as you notice the figure behind your reflection. Loki stands in the doorway, his face unreadable.
“I thought you'd wandered off,” his voice is brittle as he approaches.
You shake your head and dry your hands, hanging the cloth back on it's hook. Before you can face him, he has you penned against the counter. He reaches to your chin and turns your head straight.
“Do you understand now, pet?” He lays a kiss on your crown, his eyes alight as he watches you ib the mirror.
“No,” you whisper and clear the frog from your throat, “I don't understand. Loki…” you shudder and stop his hand as it rests on your hip, “we need to talk about what happened.”
“We… did we not enjoy ourselves?” He asks with an arch in his brow, his other arm snaking around you.
“Not that,” you try futilely to escape him, “about Walpurgisnacht–”
He hushes you and tuts as he pushes you against the counter, “it's over now. Behind us. Let's not worry–”
“Loki,” you twist around and press your hands to his chest, “Thor–”
“Don't say his name,” he recoils and wags a finger at you, “ever. Not to me.”
“He–”
“Enough,” he snaps.
“I just want to move past it–”
“I am past it,” he insists, “it's as simple as that. Walpurgisnacht is over, this a new beginning. For us. Just us.”
“I… know, but–”
“But?” He sneers. “We are home. We are here. They will not bother us here. I will be certain of it.”
“Them? Loki? What does that mean? Frigga? Odin?”
He scoffs and waves his hand dismissively, “I told you this conversation is over.”
He spins on his heel and marches out. You gulp and follow him as he disappears into the bedroom. He snatches his robe from where it hand by the closet and continues to the door. You scurry to catch him but the door closes before you can reach him.
You feel the lock slide into place and throw your fists against the door, “Loki!”
#loki#dark loki#dark!loki#loki x reader#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#series#au#maid au#dirty work#mcu#marvel#thor#avengers
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✦ Lost in Limbo Devlog #10 | 04.01.24
And just like that, March is over! We are heading into a very busy April, but as nervous as we are about it, we are also pretty excited. This month has been full of newly accomplished goals, new challenges, and wonderful milestones! Let's jump into it, shall we?
<<There’s not much information about the figure that greets you in a mysterious occult shop. The only known thing is that they were the beginning of everything…and also the ending.>>
This month we finished the rework and the sprite of the first character you'll meet in the demo! They're as mysterious as they're charming, which makes them specially dangerous...
Also, we finished March with a boom! We opened a casting call to add some voiced lines and soundbites to the demo. We have received a lot of wonderful auditions, more than we expected! It has been overwhelming (in a good way) and so exciting to finally get to this stage of the demo's production! ; v ; Also, as always, Raquel has outdone herself with the artwork—just look at these two! 💜
Another background finished by our wonderful Airyn! 💜 This is one of my favorite ones (I'm afraid I'll say this about every background Airyn works on, but oh well), so now the only step left is to animate it! There's three backgrounds left (all of them in progress), so we hope this month we can make good progress on them!
Coding-wise, the script is almost fully coded. Almost. Ten pages left. Then, I'll start polishing everything—transitions, animations, sprites, some finishing touches on some screens...But honestly, seeing everything finally come together is quite moving. Being super positive, we'll start looking for beta testers at the end of the month for windows and mac. Sadly, I'm not sure if we'll be able to test mobile at the same time, but we'll see! I'm going to work so hard to achieve it!
We are soon starting the legal process to make Ravenstar Games official. We have been looking for information and professional advice these past months to make sure we do the whole process right, as it's a huge (and scary) leap for all of us. As you may or not remember, we started this as a passion project to be able to work the job of our dreams. Everything we have is either made by ourselves or paid with our personal savings, as only one of us has a steady job. It's terrifying to think we are going to do this, to invest what little we have in something we are passionate about but that could sadly not bear any fruit. Of course, we are staying positive and will work as hard as we have been working to make it happen, but doubts and fears arise every now and then! 💜
Also, our masterpost has been updated! Now it matches our itch.io page. There's more info I'd like to tweak here and there, but the important stuff (the premise, duh) has successfully been updated!
We have also started to think about the Kickstarter, as we are getting very very close to the demo release and we want to take as much advantage as possible of the momentum the release may give us. I don't dare to give a date yet, but we are very, very close ; v ;!!!
What a wonderful month! I'll never get tired of saying that. Everything is going great for us and the success of the casting call has given us the little confidence boost we were lacking. Well, at least when it comes to me—blame it on the OCD! As the director and the one who manages all social medias, I'm always worried of my performance, but the team has been there for me whenever I have doubted my abilities. I can only hope April proves to be as fantastic as March has!
Thank you as always for reading, for supporting us, for being there. It means the world to us. Take care, stay hydrated and healthy, and let's see each other next month! 💜
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FROZEN III
Actually, I wanted to leave Tumblr in a few days and haven't been active for months, with the exception of my big project, the fanfic blog. The Frozen fandom was unfortunately almost dying due to a lack of new Disney content and many moved on to new shores, such as Arcane or Encanto etc., which strengthened my decision. But now the third part of Frozen has officially been announced and I'm more or less back on Tumblr as long as my time allows.
Guys, the Frozen hype is back and I'm totally happy about it.
I still remember the beginning when the first leaked image of Frozen II surfaced, a photo of a Russian Disney calendar. That was the beginning for me to get into international fandom and it was a really good decision. All the speculations and discussions about the possible plot of Frozen II was really exciting and I met a lot of people on Tumblr because of it.
As you all know, unfortunately the fandom split after the release of Frozen II because Disney completely screwed up the ending in the eyes of many. There have been pretty drastic new movements within the fandom, such as BEH and the likes. Many fans have blocked each other on social media platforms because of this and new hatred has arisen. The worry that Disney will now screw it up again is still pervasive today and some, including myself, now fear the worst for the third part. Why? Because Disney has so far always targeted the kids between 3 and 12 and completely ignored us older, adult fans (hence the hasty change in Frozen II, ordered by a person of a higher pay grade than Jen Lee, Chris Buck & Co). It is questionable what would have happened if the original plans had been realised, but such speculation is pointless. So what can we expect from the third part in a few years? And unfortunately we will have to wait that long! The same disaster? Quite possible! In any case, I have drastically lowered my expectations this time. I will definitely watch Frozen III, but possibly not as often as the previous films.
For this reason, my activity on this platform will certainly be somewhat different in the future and I won't be reblogging as many posts, mainly due to a lack of private time. But nevertheless I still have a lot of old posts in my drafts, which I will now post bit by bit.
Thanks to all of you who, despite my long absence, still follow me on my various blogs!
Well, since there are still a few years to go before Frozen III is released and the fears about a bad plot are quite justified, I would like to draw your attention to a new Frozen book. It's nothing official and definitely wouldn't be sanctioned by Disney, but it's already 342,000 words, so it's bigger than any of the previous official Frozen books, written for the adult fans (18+ in places!) and free too!
I'm talking about my big fanfiction project, written by a big Frozen fan for all the other Frozen fans.
I'm writing on my novel since May 24, 2020 and started it again on my new blog on June 19, 2021, so i'm working on my Frozen III novel since nearly 4 years now. A few months more for part V and the ending and it will be exactly 4 years! And that's my plan, to finish my book before any news about the plot of Frozen III will be available.
I already have a lot of followers on my blog, so if you get bored waiting so long for the new movie, I recommend you give my epic FIII story a try. The title is "The Broken Bridge" and it includes nearly all known characters of the Frozen verse plus a bunch of my own OCs. I can promise you an exiting story full of twists and surprises plus an extended view of the Northuldra, based on the real Sámi people. I did a lot of research to keep my story as realistic as possible and included as much canon facts as possible too. But be warned, it also includes some erotic moments (Kristanna, Elsamaren), violence and brutality near the end of part VI, plus a real evil Villain. My heroes are not who or are as you expect and the Northuldra (plus other families) play a very big role in my book.
Here is the link to my fanfic blog: LINK
Plus the link to my chapter overview: LINK2
Link to my character and location list: LINK3
The rest ist linked in each chapter.
All chapters contain handselected music tracks to underline the mood of the scenes, many commissioned fanarts by HARU (xlayers) and own edits.
Please feel free to leave likes, critics and comments to my now 69 chapters!
Please note, i wrote this story not only for myself, but for YOU and i poured all my energy into it. It's my masterpiece and waits for your approval. Please give me a chance as a new writer in the Frozen franchise from fan to fan. I got readers on Tumblr, reddit, Twitter, Discord and who knows where else, from countries all over the world and my slogan is “If Disney can’t do it right, i’ll do it! Including “Bring Elsa home”, if you want :-)
One of the comments of a reader on reddit, 4 months ago:
“Greetings, I started reading an amazing story about Queen Anna and her sister Elsa some months ago. It's a long but terrific story. Tbh, This level of work and details in the narration is worth to be considered a sequel to Frozen2 “
Another one on Tumblr was:
”... Finally, my dream is about to come true. You know, we never saw a worth scene of combat in F2. I mean, the sisters together fighting the main villain in the story. Great work.”
and one more:
"Arendelle was beautiful to behold at this time of year; she found, but no comparison to the extensive birch forests, the wide areas for reindeer husbandry and the winding rivers of the far north. Not to mention the silence, interrupted only by the sounds of nature. There was no place where she felt more at home than there." Beautiful.
and another one;
“@bigfrozenfan no, it wasn’t too much. A little bit of dark things makes the story serious in that areas when the canon only allow itself to hint. Like Agnarr said “The battle was brutal” and that’s all.“
one more:
“Very intense - in all senses - agreeing with [...] I can vision of things coming closer though I am sure you still have more surprises at hand! I liked the descripiton of all parts in this chapter. Good job! And yes, Honey is a curageous woman and I love her feisty spirit! And of course, there is one thing left to compliment you for - the intimate kristanna night - that was a well deserved treat for them (and the reader ??) - thank you
I’m so thankful to get such comments and there are so many more i got on my chapters from my own fandom readers!
When the story, my book is finished this year i will post it on AO3 too, maybe also in my mother language, German. Idk yet, time will tell.
Enjoy!
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The Magic of Suzume (Review with spoilers)
First of all, I’d like to apologize to Weathering with You because I’ve found my new favorite Makoto Shinkai movie. I can see why fans of the director and screenwriter may be divided on his newly imported film because it has several elements that have already been done in his previous ones, but I think that Suzume stands above the others for me due to the excellent execution. It offers a new glimpse into familiar themes such as recovering from grief and finding hope in your future, connecting with strangers, and combating huge forces of nature – usually in the form of natural disasters, but also fate.
Spoilers begin here!
The movie opens on a child running through fields, normal except for the vivid sprawl of blue and pink sky. We see the mysterious figure of a woman who hands her something and then our protagonist, Suzume, wakes up. It’s confirmed eventually that she was the child and that she sees the figure as her mother, who is dead (later on, we learn it was in a tsunami).
Suzume has been taken in by her aunt, who sees her as her own daughter. I was afraid that this familial relationship and the tensions evident between the two at the beginning would get lost in the possible main relationship and the action of the movie, but I’m happy to say that the familial conflict was addressed.
On this particular day, Suzume meets a strange young man who asks her if she knows of any ruins in the area. They part ways but she remains fascinated by him (and it definitely helps that he looks a bit like Howl from Howl’s Moving Castle, just look at that hair!). She stumbles upon a mysterious door standing by itself when trying to find him, opens it, and sets off a series of cataclysmic disasters. An ancient creature called the worm, which is contained only by the closed doors and two keystones that hold gods, is temporarily released. The creature floats in the sky, unseen by everyone except those who have interacted with these special doors, but once it hits the ground, earthquakes and other natural disasters occur. Suzume not only opened the door but also released one of the keystones, which turns into a mischievous cat nicknamed Daijin that refuses to turn back into a keystone.
A quest begins as the young man named Satou and Suzume travel across Japan in an effort to close all the doors that were triggered by Suzume opening the first and to put Daijin back as a keystone. It’s made harder when Daijin curses Satou by putting his spirit into the three-legged child’s chair that Suzume’s mother left her. The cat-god-gremlin then runs off and the two kids are left trying to track him down through social media.
The magic of the show lies in how Suzume combines what is basically a road trip with the more magical bits. I found myself getting more invested as Suzume and Satou meet various folks as they close in on Daijin, only to have the cat-god escape them every time. For me, Shinkai movies shine by contrasting the more fantastical action scenes with the quiet and ordinary moments. For example, seeing Suzume babysitting and then helping out a bit at a bar grounds viewers in the world. When the worm escapes through a door Suzume and Satou must close time and time again, it feels tense every time. We get to know some of the characters that live in the area so there’s a personal investment in there as well as the fear of, y’know, tons of other people dying too.
Suzume running away though means her aunt, Takami, comes after her and it culminates in one of my favorite scenes where the two get into the car of Satou’s friend, Serizawa, who has no idea what’s going on. This part of the road trip in which Takami and Suzume don’t speak to each other and Serizawa’s personality and slight confusion at the family made me realize that Suzume would probably end up being one of my comfort movies.
I’ve always thought that movies that blend magic with modernity like some Studio Ghibli movies or Shinkai’s films are comforting, especially ones that tackle huge disasters. Of course, Japan has its own history with natural disasters that definitely influenced Shinkai, and there’s something so hopeful in these movies in seeing the way life was before and after these disasters. The gravity of them also sinks into you as you watch these movies, seeing how a person’s sense of stability is ripped from them in seconds.
There’s an ache that follows in seeing the effects of disasters, not only when the worm descends, but also in the abandoned and ruined places that have been discarded over time because of disasters or through sheer human indifference. An amusement park, a school, etc. To close the doors, Satou and Suzume must tap into the voices of those that inhabited these places once as well as those of the gods and then “lock” the door. This strong sense of community being expressed through both magical and realistic means is great thematically.
Alongside communal loss, personal loss follows Suzume. When she opens the first door, she remembers seeing her mother in the space it leads her to but is told that the living can never enter it. She gives up but through Tamaki chasing after her and her stories about her mother here and there - sometimes drawn for us as flashbacks with scrawls at the edges like a kid’s drawing - we see her loss and longing for her mother. At the ferris wheel, Suzume is entranced and tempted by the idea of seeing her mother again and almost walks off the ledge to enter the door. Personal loss hits her again when Satou must become the new keystone and is sacrificed to keep the worm at bay.
Instead of taking the sacrifice in stride and returning to her ordinary life, as Satou’s grandfather encourages her to do, she chases after Satou. Luckily, she has been through one of the doors before, which means she can go to the land he’s in if she goes through that door. Returning to it means returning to the home that was taken from her so violently when her mother died. Once this goal is realized, Suzume, Takami, and Serizawa set out in Serizawa’s hilariously cool on the surface but super broken convertible.
The tension between Suzume and Takami is palpable during the ride, and it culminates in the two exploding at one another at a rest stop. Takami lays out all the things she’s sacrificed for Suzume, like her youth and dating prospects, and it’s one of the best emotional moments of the movie. At the end, Takami collapses, exhausted, and it’s revealed that one of the other keys, Sadaijin, has been released and was possessing her. This moment confused me but I assumed that the cat helped Takami vent her negative feelings so they could continue their quest and it makes sense even if Sadaijin’s appearance is pretty sudden.
Revealing that a rift was there between Suzume and Takami is what allows them to begin repairing their relationship. There’s a very important moment in which Takami apologizes but says that she did feel that way and Suzume accepts this, knowing that her aunt’s love for her is bigger than the resentment. The point is not to push down your negative feelings towards someone you love, but to set it aside and make peace with it, knowing that you will love and care for them more than all of that.
The door left by Suzume’s now torn-down childhood home leads her to a hellish landscape full of fire in which the worm is trying to escape again. With the help of Sadaijin and Daijin’s sacrifice, Suzume manages to reach out to Satou, connecting to him through the desire to live. Crying, she tells him, “I want to live more…I want to hear your voice. I don’t want to be alone.” Similar to the protagonist of Mamoru Hosoda’s Belle, Suzume’s character journey focuses on the pleasure of connecting with others and how that helps our protagonists develop a desire to live after deep familial loss.
Suzume and Satou escape, trapping the worm, and they see Suzume’s past child self wandering the landscape. It’s a very Shinkai thing to do (demonstrating the past and present’s connectivity and circularity) and Suzume realizes that she never saw her mother as a child, but rather her future self. She tells her past self, “You’ll meet a lot of people you care for, and you’ll meet lots of people who’ll care for you, too.” Suzume hands the chair back to her past self and waves her goodbye.
It’s a poignant moment and I love the twist that those words that probably helped Suzume survive all that grief came from some version of herself, not her mother. It feels more hopeful and symbolic of how we process our losses and move on, continuing towards our future selves. The magic of Suzume lies in its near-perfect combination of humor, fantasy, and the glimpses of living that ordinary people do every day.
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Chainsaw Man Season 1 Review
Its that time of year again: the time where the hardcore anime fans gear up for a new batch of seasonal shows. This winter, a bunch of popular anime, including Vinland Saga, Tokyo Revengers, and Bungou Stray Dogs are releasing new seasons, to the raucous applause of most of the anime fandom community.
I say 'most', of course, excluding myself. Where am I in this, you may ask? Always behind the curve, picking up the hits years after they've had their debut, like a reverse hipster. What's old is new again for folks like me, who are still trying to watch all the 'old' series, nevermind keep up with new releases. There's merit in this method, though: given enough time, the shiny glow of newness fades, and we can experience the series without rose-colored glasses.
In my never-ending quest to understand why popular media got popular, I stumbled upon Chainsaw Man, a rather recent hit that was practically unavoidable last year. In a sea of generic anime girl snore-fests, it grabbed my attention pretty quickly for its sheer ferocity and love for bloodshed. After being assigned it in a monthly show exchange, I figured it was about time I'd given it a chance. After 12 episodes, though, I feel like my time could've better been spent elsewhere.
Chainsaw Man (2022) is an adaptation of the manga by the same name, written by Tatsuki Fujimoto. The series follows Denji, a homeless teen who is saddled with a ridiculous debt to the yakuza after his father dies. After surviving an assassination attempt, he fuses with the Chainsaw Devil, and gains its powers of, well, chainsaws. Now, he must work together with an elite team of public service agents to hunt down other devils, to keep a newly found comfy life.
One would be foolish to assume this wasn't a shonen series. With a teen protagonist, superpowers, monsters, and an overarching storyline about growing up, Chainsaw Man seems like your standard action/fantasy show. What makes it different, though, is its copious amounts of gore. Most 'shonen' series are marketed towards kids and teens, and because of this, are limited in how far they can go with their violent content. Chainsaw Man, it seems, got a free pass from it's producers to show whatever it wants, and really runs with it.
Most of the series revolves around Denji and his team hunting devils, monsters which personify common fears, and gain power from the fear of them. From hulking furry masses like the Bat Devil, to thousand-eyed pushovers like the Tomato Devil, Denji and his team take them down in a brilliant display of blades, sharp teeth, and blood spray. Violence is the life blood of this series, the thing that keeps its main characters alive, and what keeps viewers like me paying attention.
Each confrontation is intense, as the human-looking heroes face off against monsters that dwarf them in comparison. The series establishes early on in every fight just what the opposing devil can do, and how that poses a threat to Denji and his team, making it feel like there's little hope in their survival. This, combined with the constant reminders from Denji's superiors of how many previous hunters have died on the job, gives each fight a sense of stakes to it. Characters can (and eventually do) die, so each fight, even those early on, are tense.
The music, as well, its pretty damn good. I'd already heard the opening track, KICK BACK this summer, and play it a lot while doing chores, but the opening animation that goes with it is really interesting. Look closely, and you'll see shot-for-shot references to famous films, like The Big Lebowski and Pulp Fiction. Each episode also has a unique ending theme, something unique to this series that made me sit and watch each episode all the way through. Most endings are abstract, mostly just the main characters standing around or posing, but all are experimental, including one that is mostly rotoscoped. They were all a joy to watch, a happy surprise at the end of each episode.
Unfortunately, nice music, dynamic fight scenes and a few gallons of blood tossed around can't distract from the many sins of this anime, ones that made it a very uncomfortable viewing experience. When I started this series, I was optimistic about it, and wanted to learn more about its world and characters. But by the second episode, it became difficult to ignore the less savory aspects of this series, which only worsened with each subsequent episode.
Denji, the show's protagonist, is a teenager who had his youth stolen from him by the Yakuza, when they forced him to take up his father's debt. Once he is freed from it, however, his true nature is revealed, one which makes it challenging for viewers like me to like him. This series, it seems, has broken new ground with its protagonist, since I doubt any self-respecting shonen would have a main character (who we are meant to like and care about) be as unabashedly horny as this one.
That's not to say that having a character who likes sex is a bad thing. People, fictional or not, are allowed to like whoever they want, however they want (with consent of course :)). Denji, though, takes the trope of 'sex obsessed teenager' to the extremes, proudly declaring that the only reason he hunts devils is to have sex with his boss. It gets to the point where one of his teammates accuses him of not taking the job seriously, and Denji has the audacity to claim he is. Meanwhile, Denji is lured into a trap by a female character, all because she offered to let him touch her breasts. These, as well as the countless other instances of Denji staring at women's chests instead of their eyes, or whining about how he wants to 'cop a feel', made him a character that was infuriating to watch get his way.
To make matters worse, it seems like nearly every woman in the series is infatuated with him enough to not only let him do these things to them, but outright encourage them. Halfway through the series, Denji and his teammates join up with another trio of devil hunters to investigate an apartment complex. Before entering, one of the female hunters declares that whoever kills the devil inside will get a kiss from her, and when Denji declines, she whispers that she'll do it "with tongue". Around the same point in the show, Denji's boss Makima explains to him about the Gun Devil, the most powerful and most feared devil ever. When he shows apprehension about taking on such a fearsome foe, Makima offers to do whatever he wants if he kills it, heavily implying that she'll sleep with him.
Never in my life have I watched a show where adult women proposition a teenager, something which I was proud to say until today. I wish I could say that it had its purpose in the overall story, but the show hardly has anything to say about it, almost as if it had no problems with it in general. Denji is sixteen, and the hunters that offer to kiss or sleep with him are easily in their 20's, maybe even early 30's, making every 'romantic' or 'sexy' moment in this show a fur-raising experience that took me a bit to recover from. If it was once, and to make a point about the transition to adulthood, or how its morally wrong, I'd understand, but this is absurd. Whoever thought that a scene where the main character's co-worker drunkenly kidnaps him, then coaxes him into have sex with her is okay, should be fired, and have their hard drives searched by the FBI.
I wanted to like this show. Really, I did, especially after all the hype it has, and all the lovely fanart of it I see on my social media feeds. But after having to sit through all 12 episodes of this, I think I'm tapping out. Sure, the fights are great, especially the final one between Denji and Katana Man, where they fight on a subway. The sharp teeth, blades, and constant blood spray were so thrilling, they almost made me forget about the sexual assault stuff. Keyword 'almost'.
Chainsaw Man isn't just a shonen series about the tumultuous journey from teenager to adult: its an action series with cool monster designs, a feral hero, and more blood than a used tampon. But also, its a series where the main character demands sexual favors, and is rewarded with them by adult women time and time again. This series was a mixed bag, one that had me either glued to the screen or wanting to shut it off, with hardly any in between. The main character should've been anyone else (honestly I'd prefer to be following Power, she's way more interesting), and as the series went on, I felt myself wishing for characters to just die already, so I wouldn't have to put up with them anymore. Here's hoping in season 2 that I get my wish.
#anime and manga#anime review#film critic#review#anime#anime critique#chainsaw man#chainsaw man anime#power is best girl
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I saw the FNAF movie and didn't like it very much
I'm trying to put this old blog to use by putting down my thoughts on various media. Usually I would just send this to discord servers of my friends but now it's the universe's problem.
Of course, since now is the time that I've finally built the resolve to do this, the first thing I have to talk about is the Five Nights at Freddy's movie. Let me tell you, this was not what I expected to be talking about in 2023, but here we are.
To establish my credentials a little, I've been following the series basically since its inception, through lore/easter-egg hunting videos, as many youtube playthroughs as I could get my hands on, and of course, Matthew Patrick. By the time Pizzeria Simulator (that's FNAF 6 for those uninitiated) rolled around, I was thoroughly impressed by the overall quality of storytelling of the series, and was glad to see it reach a natural conclusion. I chose to ignore the existence of the books, spin-offs, remakes, and further sequels from Steel Wool; I had taken all I wanted from the series, and was ready to move on.
Imagine my surprise when the long-rumored movie, which I was almost sure had been canned in around 2018, was finally given a release date for 2023, 9 years after the series' debut and 6 years after I had moved on from my engagement with it. Given its rough production history (and "rough" feels like an understatement), I was only cautiously optimistic. Sure, this was a series I had at one point enjoyed, and which I thought had a genuinely compelling story to tell, but a movie this far past the expiration date for its hype seemed strange, especially as the franchise moved into new territory with Steel Wool's Security Breach.
Then, of course, the trailers. Listen, I love practical effects any day of the week, and the team's commitment to bringing the iconic animatronics to life was admirable. But, let's just say that the games spent so much effort hiding these things from you for a reason.
And, I think that's where we should start discussion of the film itself, so spoilers ahead: what does it bring to the table? After 9 years of sitting with the imagery and storytelling of FNAF, what has this movie decided to add, to embellish, to show in new lights, or to show in more gruesome, vivid detail than ever before? What does its expensive, high quality production bring to the table that the shoestring-budget games were never able to?
The answer is: basically nothing. The animatronics are just as stiff and lifeless as their jpegs in the games, the location is rendered beautifully but provides only what we already knew was there, and the acting is about on par with Scott Cawthon's own performances as the phone guy.
So, its essentially like playing that classic game all over again. What's the problem, then? The problem is that the games had their excuses: their budget, the one-man development team, and the limitations of their engine, things which the movie should've been able to avoid. But even more so than that, the games had other things to fall back on: atmosphere, effective tension-building, deep and engaging mysteries, and the innate heightening of fear that comes from being put into the situation yourself as a player. In each of these departments, the things which truly put FNAF on the map, the movie fails completely.
Now, some may complain about my wording here. "The animatronics are supposed to be a little goofy! They're not always supposed to be scary, otherwise they wouldn't really be good children's mascots!" And to that, fair point. There are moments in this film which truly highlight this aspect of the animatronic characters, where I actually bought into the idea that these were fun, engaging children's entertainers, and this is something the games never truly established. However, its when the movie flips that switch, when it tries to move into the actual horror, that it falls apart.
Like I mentioned, the practical props, as beautifully crafted as they are, simply are not filmed properly. Nothing in this movie even tries to turn the goofy cartoon character robots into something more sinister visually; no tricks of lighting or camera placement ever effectively communicate the horror of these massive death machines, and the cardboard acting of our main protagonist certainly doesn't help. When moving onscreen, they operate exclusively at a snail's pace; it's difficult to imagine them chasing a security guard down, let alone killing them once they caught up. This wouldn't be a problem if I didn't have to imagine it; the movie shows a character moving at speed exactly once, and through so many flickering lights it's impossible to tell what exactly is happening. This is a pretty consistent aspect of the film: deaths happen, but never onscreen, and the more gruesome and spine-tingling elements of the narrative like unsolved murders, a serial killer on the loose, mutilated corpses, the actual crushing power of these giant animatronics, and even what they do with their victims, are merely alluded to. The phone call audio and "game over" screen from the first game does more to establish the actual threat of Freddy and the gang than any moment of this entire film, and these characters take up a substantial portion of the screen time. There were moments watching the characters "walk" menacingly across the screen where I swear it looked like oversized toys being moved up and down by a toddler's hand offscreen. And, the only attempt to make the robots appear more "evil" by *checks notes* giving them "angry eyebrows" falls completely flat.
The one success this movie manages (again, spoilers,) is Matthew Lillard as the main antagonist. By far the most competent performance, and the actual scariest costuming and character acting in the film (which unfortunately isn't saying much), the movie of course relegates him to about 4 minutes of total screen time, and only at the very beginning and very end of the film. For a shockingly long portion of the runtime, the writing fails to clearly establish the existence of a serial murderer to be afraid of, only for one character to exposit his misdeeds and terrible power to our hero about 10 minutes before he gets his comeuppance. And that moment is well executed; that is, if you already know the story of Five Nights at Freddy's, because the movie certainly doesn't have time to build him up for his knock-down. While it makes sense to focus more on the threat posed by the animatronics in your movie about murderous animatronics, it feels almost like a waste to include Lillard's character at all, only for him to reveal his evil plans (which appear to boil down to "I like killing people" unless again, you already have the context of the game series) before dying in the same scene.
To put it all as simply as I can: this movie is exactly what you are afraid it is: a mess created by talented people with good intentions, but a mess nonetheless, hung by its own overambition and commitment to an aesthetic that just isn't scary. To be honest, it isn't even the kind of mess worth studying; it's failures are obvious and the lessons it teaches are trivial. I walked away from the theater feeling disappointment, and not much else, which is the worst kind of condemnation I can provide.
If you are a fan of this franchise, or you yourself enjoy this film, all the more power to you. I only ask that you remember that things can be better. And if you are planning to see this film; don't. Just redownload the game, it's less than half a gigabyte.
Thanks for reading this far; feel free to let me know your own thoughts if you've got any. I'll try to explain anything I haven't already.
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Anthony Hopkins, who has won a Golden Globe, a BAFTA, and an Oscar, is a big name in film, TV, and theater. He has teamed up with Web3 media company Orange Comet for a series of NFT drops that will show off his work as an artist. The actor told nft now about this during an early press junket.
The project is called The Eternal Collection, and it is made up of three drops. Each drop is based on a set of 10 digital animations of Hopkins as different Jungian character archetypes that he has played in his career. Parts of Hopkins' painting work are also used in their designs.
It might come out on OpenSea around September 16th.
Hopkins and the Orange Comet team worked together to come up with the collection's theme, which is based on timeless archetypes. This is how the project got its name. The animations, which use hyper-realistic digital renderings of Hopkins' face, show the archetypes of the Hero, the Rebel, the Magician, the Sage, the Ruler, the Explorer, the Lover, the Creator, the Giver, and the Jester. They will be somewhere between 30 and 45 seconds long. Each of the 10 animations will have a separate release of 100 PFP variants of their own Jungian character theme, for a total of 1,000 NFTs in the PFP part of the drop.
Orange Comet will also auction off a 1 of 1 NFT, which is a one-of-a-kind edit of all 10 character animations put together into a single piece. Hopkins will give some of the money from the sale of the painting to a charity of his choice.
All three tiers of the collection—the 1 of 1 Iconic NFT, the 10 Legendary animations, and the 1,000 Distinguished PFPs—will come with different benefits, such as IRL events (like a one-on-one brunch with Hopkins), autographed physical prints of the NFT artwork, and exclusive audio clips of Hopkins talking about the archetypes in meetings with the Orange Comet team.
"When Margam Fine Art came to us with the artistic idea of bringing Sir Anthony Hopkins' art to the metaverse, we knew this was a one-of-a-kind chance for NFTs," said Orange Comet CEO Dave Broome in a press release that was shared with nft now. "This relationship is a great example of how technology and art can work well together. It was created by one of the best actors and artists of our time."
Why Hopkins is doing something new in the NFT market
During the press junket, Hopkins told nft now, "NFTs are a blank canvas where art can be made." "At first, I was scared to make them, but you just have to do it." In recent years, the knighted octogenarian has talked more and more about the message of getting over your fears and doubts for the sake of art.
Hopkins said, "Try everything." "Whatever age. Don't let your age stop you. You can do it. Both sides have nothing to gain or lose. Simply do it." When asked which of the collection's archetypes he identifies with the most, Hopkins said quickly that the Rebel speaks to him the most.
Hopkins said, "I've been a rebel my whole life." "I have always been different. I feel like the story of my life was written by someone else."
Hopkins' choice of the Rebel archetype makes sense, since the Orange Comet team was inspired by the actor's most famous role, Hannibal Lecter.
Getting to know the NFT community
The actor has worked with the NFT community before, so this upcoming collection is not his first time doing so. Hopkins tweeted in June that he wanted to learn more about space and asked Snoop Dogg, Jimmy Fallon, and Reese Witherspoon for advice on how to get started.
Beeple and other big names in the NFT ecosystem replied to the tweet, and the famous actor ended up buying pieces from Nyla Hayes, Brendan Murphy, and Danny Cole.
Hopkins was also in the movie Zero Contact, which was released as an NFT by the NFT entertainment distribution platform Vuele last year. The actor says that this helped get him interested in the technology.
Hopkins, who will be 85 years old at the end of this year, was typical of him when he talked about how the project came to be.
Hopkins said, "The idea came out of a fog from somewhere." "I thought of psychological Jungian types because I could see myself in them. This is how I learned. All creativity has a bit of a mystery to it, which I don't understand and don't try to. I think we can do it if we have the courage, the drive, or the energy to do it."
https://nftdawn.io/anthony-hopkins-the-eternal-nft-collection-explained/?feed_id=1650&_unique_id=62fdf67c6277e
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What are your thoughts on Jekyll/Hyde and his archetype of the human periodically changing into a monster ?
Jekyll & Hyde was the 2nd horror story I read following Frankenstein, I got it off the same library and it always stuck very strongly with me even before I got into horror in general. I even dressed up as Jekyll/Hyde as a kid for a school fair by shredding a lab coat on one side and asking my sister to make-up claw gashes on my exposed arm and paint half of my face, although in hindsight I think I ended up looking more like Doctor Two-Face than Jekyll/Hyde, but I was 12 and didn't have any Victorian clothing to use so I had to make do. The first film project I tried doing at film school was intended to be a modern take on Jekyll & Hyde, and I didn't get much farther than a couple of discarded scripts
Much like Frankenstein, Mr Hyde as a character and a story is something that's kind of baked into everything I do artistically. And it's not just me, as even in pop culture itself, none of us can escape Mr Hyde. I would go so far as to argue Mr Hyde may be the single most significant character created by victorian fiction, if only by the sheer impact and legacy the character's had.
(Fan-art by guilhermefranco)
Part of what makes Mr Hyde such a powerful and lasting icon of pop culture is that the very premise of the book invites a personal reading that's gonna vary from person to person. Because everyone's familiar with the basic twist of the story, that it's a conflict of duality, of the good and evil sides, but everyone has a more personal idea of what those entail. Some people make the story more about class. A lot of readings laser-focus on sex and lust as the driving force, and there's also a lot of readings of Mr Hyde that tackle it to explore a more gendered perspective, and so forth.
I don't particularly take much notice of the Jekyll & Hyde adaptations partially because the novel's premise and themes have become baked so throughly into pop culture and explored in so many different and interesting ways, that I'm not particularly starving for good Jekyll & Hyde adaptations the way I am for Dracula and Frankenstein. The Fredric March film in particular is one that orbits my head less because of the film itself (although I do recommend it), but because of one specific scene, and that's when Jekyll first transforms into Hyde on screen.
Out of all the things they could have shown him doing right that second, they instead took the time to show him enjoying the rain.
Just Hyde taking off his hat and letting it all cascade on his face with this sheer enthusiasm like he's never been to the rain before, never enjoyed it before, and now that he's free from being Jekyll, he gets to enjoy life like he never has before. It's such an oddly humanizing moment to put amidst a horror movie, in the scene where you're ostensibly introducing the monster to the audience, and it makes such a stark contrast to the rest of the film where Hyde is completely irredeemable, but I think it's that contrast that makes the film's take on Hyde work so well even with it's diverging from the source material, even if I don't particularly like in general interpretations of Hyde that are focused on a sexual aspect.
Because one, it understands that Jekyll was fundamentally a self-serving coward and not a paragon of goodness, and two, it also understands one of the things that makes Hyde scary: He wants what all of us want, to live and be happy. He's happy when he leaves the lab and dances around in the rain like a giddy child, he's happy when he goes to places Jekyll couldn't dream of showing up, he's happy as a showgirl-abusing sexual predator. Hyde is all wants, all the time, and there's not that much difference between his wants, his domineering possessiveness, and the likes exhibited by Muriel's father and Jekyll's own within the very same film, which also works to emphasize one of the other ideas of the original story, that Edward Hyde doesn't come from nowhere. That no monster is closer to humanity than Mr Hyde, because he is us. He is the thing that Jekyll refused to take responsability for until it was too late.
(Art by LorenzoMastroianni)
While many of the ideas that defined Mr Hyde had already been explored in pop culture beforehand, Hyde popularized and redefined many of them in particular by modernizing the idea. He was the werewolf, the doppelganger, The Player On The Other Side, except he came from within. He was not transformed by circumstance, he made himself that way, and the elixir merely brought out something already inside his soul. To acknowledge that he's there is to acknowledge that he is you, and to not do that is to either lose to him, or perish. Hyde was there to address both the rot settling in Victorian society as well as grappling concerns over Darwinian heritage, of the realization that man has always had the beast inside of him (it's no accident that Hyde's main method of murder is by clubbing people to death with his cane like a caveman).
I've already argued on my post about Tarzan that the Wild Man archetype, beginning with Enkidu of The Epic of Gilgamesh, is the in-between man and beast, between superhero and monster, and that Mr Hyde is an essential component of the superhero's trajectory, as the creature split in between. That stories about dual personalities, doppelgangers, the duality of the soul, the hero with a day job and an after dark career, you can pinpoint Hyde as a turning point in how all of these solidified gradually in pop culture. And I've argued otherwise that The Punisher, for all that his image and narrative points otherwise, is ultimately just as much of a superhero as the rest of them, even if no one wants to admit it, drawing a parallel between The Punisher and Mr Hyde. And he's far from the only modern character that can invite this kind of parallel.
The idea of a regular person periodically or permanently transforming into, or revealing itself to be, something extraordinary and fantastic and scary, grappling with the divide it causes in their soul, and questions whether it's a new development or merely the truest parts of themselves coming to light at last, and the effects this transformation has for good and bad alike. The idea of a potent, dangerous, unpredictable enemy who ultimately is you, or at least a facet of you and what you can do. That these are bound to destroy each other if not reconciled with or overcome.
You know what are my thoughts on the archetype of "human periodically changing into a monster" are? Look around you and you're gonna see the myriad ways The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde's themes have manifested in the century and a half since the story's release. Why it shouldn't be any surprise whatsoever that Mr Hyde has become such an integral part of pop culture, in it's heroes and monsters alike. Why we can never escape Mr Hyde, just as Jekyll never could.
It is Nixon himself who represents that dark, venal and incurably violent side of the American character that almost every country in the world has learned to fear and despise. Our Barbie-doll president, with his Barbie-doll wife and his boxful of Barbie-doll children is also America's answer to the monstrous Mr. Hyde.
He speaks for the Werewolf in us; the bully, the predatory shyster who turns into something unspeakable, full of claws and bleeding string-warts on nights when the moon comes too close… - Hunter S. Thompson
There is a scene in the movie Pulp Fiction that explains almost every terrible thing happening in the news today. And it's not the scene where Ving Rhames shoots that guy's dick off. It's the part where the hit man played by John Travolta is talking about how somebody vandalized his car, and says this:
"Boy, I wish I could've caught him doing it. I'd have given anything to catch that asshole doing it. It'd been worth him doing it, just so I could've caught him doing it."
That last sentence is something everyone should understand about mankind. After all, the statement is completely illogical -- revenge is supposed to be about righting a wrong. But he wants to be wronged, specifically so he'll have an excuse to get revenge. We all do.
Why else would we love a good revenge movie? We sit in a theater and watch Liam Neeson's daughter get kidnapped. We're not sad about it, because we know he's a badass and he finally has permission to be awesome. Not a single person in that theater was rooting for it to all be an innocent misunderstanding. We wanted Liam to be wronged, because we wanted to see him kick ass. It's why so many people walk around with vigilante fantasies in their heads.
Long, long ago, the people in charge figured out that the easiest and most reliable way to bind a society together was by controlling and channeling our hate addiction. That's the reason why seeing hurricane wreckage on the news makes us mumble "That's sad" and maybe donate a few bucks to the Red Cross hurricane fund, while 9/11 sends us into a decade-long trillion-dollar rage that leaves the Middle East in flames.
The former was caused by wind; the latter was caused by monsters. The former makes us kind of bummed out; the latter gets us high.
It's easy to blame the news media for pumping us full of stories of mass shootings and kidnapped children, but that's stopping one step short of the answer: The media just gives us what we want. And what we want is to think we're beset on all sides by monsters.
The really popular stories will always feature monsters that are as different from us as possible. Think about Star Wars -- what real shithead has ever referred to himself as being on "the dark side"? In Harry Potter and countless fantasy universes, you have wizards working in "black magic" and the "dark arts." Can you imagine a scientist developing some technology for chemical weapons or invasive advertising openly thinking of what he does as "dark science"? Can you imagine a real world leader naming his headquarters "The Death Star" or "Mount Doom"?
Of course not. But we need to believe that evil people know they're evil, or else that would open the door to the fact that we might be evil without knowing it. I mean, sure, maybe we've bought chocolate that was made using child slaves or driven cars that poisoned the air, but we didn't do it to be evil -- we were simply doing whatever we felt like and ignoring the consequences. Not like Hitler and the bankers who ruined the economy and those people who burned the kittens -- they wake up every day intentionally dreaming up new evils to create. It's not like Hitler actually thought he was saving the world.
So no matter how many times you vote to cut food stamps and then use the money to buy a boat, you could still be way worse. You could, after all, be one of those murdering / lazy / ignorant / greedy / oppressive monsters that you know the world is full of, and that only your awesome moral code prevents you from turning into at any moment. And those monsters are out there.
They have to be. Because otherwise, we're the monsters - 5 Reasons Humanity Desperately Wants Monsters To Be Real, by Jason Pargin
(Two-Face sequence comes from the end of Batman Annual #14: Eye of the Beholder)
For good or bad, Hyde has become omnipresent. He's a part of our superheroes, he's a part of our supervillains, he's in our monsters. He lives and prattles in our ears, sometimes we need him to survive, and sometimes we become Hyde even when we don't need to, because our survival instincts or base cruelties or desperation brings out the worst in us. Sometimes we can beat him, and sometimes he's not that bad. Sometimes we do need to appease him and listen to what he says, about us and the world around us. And sometimes we need to do so specifically to prove him wrong and beat him again.
But he never, ever goes away, as he so accurately declares in the musical
Do you really think
That I would ever let you go...
Do you think
I'd ever set you free?
If you do, I'm sad to say
It simply isn't so
You will never get away
FROM MEEEEEE
(Art by Akreon on Artstation)
#tw: injury#tw: blood#tw: disfigurement#replies tag#dr jekyll and mr hyde#the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde#robert louis stevenson#two-face#batman#monster tag#universal monsters#horror tag
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The Tarnish Series - Complete
Summary: y/n finds a letter that isn’t meant for her
Warnings: ANGST, mentions of vomiting and nausea, mentions of implied smut, mentions of drunk driving, angst in the beginning, angst in the middle, angst near the end, time skip of 2.5 years and slight fluff
Word Count: 32.3k words
A/N: a repost of my collab with @devilinbetweenthesheet-s so you can find all the series parts in one post! p.s the word ‘thought’ was used 72 times
DISCLAIMER: this is not an accurate description of who Harry/Camille are in real life. this is purely fictional for the purpose of entertainment.
It was one of those days where Y/N had a sudden itching in her body to clean. Not just her closet, or her and Harry’s room--but the entire fricking house. The size of their shared home was ridiculous. There were many times when Y/N suggested moving into a smaller home, a cozy house with just enough rooms to hold them and an unexpected guest for the rest of their nights. It led to numerous fights about how Harry felt like she was dictating how to spend his hard-earned money, but they all ended in mushy hugs and soft-spoken apologies.
Y/N learned how to wake up in an empty house. The sudden chill raised goosebumps on her skin as she walked into the home studio Harry had installed a few months after buying the mansion. He felt as though he would be more productive knowing that he didn’t have to travel when inspiration struck. Harry was a bit private with the room, opting to not have anyone else in there unless he was present; not even Y/N. She understood that he needed something that was just for him. Living in the spotlight surely strips an individual out of their humanity and presented in a cookie-cutter way as if he was perfect. All his childhood memories were simply origin stories--a life he once lived before it changed forever. Now, he was Harry Styles the singer/songwriter, actor, host, and situational comedian.
Despite the voice at the back of her head practically screaming at her to not enter, Y/N was stubborn enough to ignore it. It was the last room she had yet to clean and she wanted to feel accomplished knowing that she was productive today. Y/N hummed mindlessly, twisting the knob before pushing it open. The lights flickered on to dim lighting, the clear glass reflecting a subdued figure of her as the glowing bulbs highlighted the expensive instruments littering the room.
Y/N puffed her cheeks out as she inspected the space. It wasn’t as messy as she had expected, only a few crumpled pieces of paper probably thrown out of frustration beside the trash can, the couch and the mechanic board. She rolled her eyes at Harry’s tendency to not clean up, especially after scratching ideas that weren’t good enough. He didn't want to give those a second thought.
As she approached the coffee table in front of the sofa, Y/N couldn’t help but notice one of the many leather-bound journals that Harry kept to scribble his thoughts and ideas into. A sharp corner of a crisp envelope was buried beneath it.
My love.
Y/N raised her brow at the cursive lettering on the back, assuming that it was her for her. She should have known better when she caught sight of the stamp at the left-hand corner, ready to be mailed but her excitement overshadowed the looming truth, gently raising the flap to pull the handwritten letter out.
My love,
I hope you find this letter well. I apologize for acting like such an old man, sending a letter by post instead of living in the modern age of instant messaging.
She chuckled at the words Harry wrote. He really did have an interesting sense of humour.
First of all, I’d like to thank you for sticking with me throughout our relationship. I know that we’ve had our ups and downs but I wouldn’t have anyone to spend it with aside from you, my love. I’m away too much—I know. I leave for work to see the world, to see the fans while sharing them a piece of myself. But I could never forget giving a piece of myself to you. You absolutely have my whole heart in the palm of your hands’.
Y/N blushed at his confession. She felt a little guilty for reading without his explicit permission but there was no doubt in her head that he was getting the best treatment as soon as he walks through the front door. Y/N couldn’t believe how lucky she was for finding a man like Harry willing to be so open and vulnerable with his feelings.
The times at the cafe where we read together, sipping on our coffees and I’d catch your eyes staring at me.
She sighed dreamily, picturing his forest green eyes in her head. The intensity that he wore whenever he observed made a flush appear on her cheeks and butterflies to go haywire in her stomach. It was what they had done during his break. Starting a book club with him made the actual book interesting because he read to her in the softest voice and asked her what she thought when a character seemingly has done something out of the blue.
The Beachwood Cafe will always have a special place in my heart.
That was the moment when anxiety struck her like a bolt of lightning; quick to change the enchanted feeling in her heart and replacing it with fear. Harry talked about the cafe with such adoration that Y/N requested for him to bring her there one day. They haven’t done so yet.
Y/N bit her lip nervously, gnawing at the skin despite applying lip scrub on it the night prior. The organ in her chest pounded with each syllable sticking to her tongue as she silently whispered along. Hands shaking with passing seconds, Y/N almost did not want to let her eyes drift to the bottom of the page, fearing that what she feared would stare at her straight in the face.
I’m finally ready to face my fears of telling her that our relationship isn’t working out. I know that we have both been wanting it to be just us for a while.
She repeated the statement over and over, trying to make sense of who he was talking about. Was it their relationship? It couldn’t be because that would mean that Harry was being unfaithful. Was he cheating on her? Y/N’s mind was dizzy with thoughts being fired back and forth. The impulsive side of her was dead set on confronting Harry about this letter but the logical pair wanted to reach the end of the letter before making an assumption. She couldn’t just start a fight based on a misunderstanding; that was one of the things that Harry hated about his exes. They were too easily manipulated by the media to immediately doubt him when the tiniest rumour rose. But this letter was written right from Harry’s hand, his pen lying innocently on the table beside the journal.
You're the love of my life, Camille. I promise I'll end it with Y/N soon. We're meant to be, I truly believe it. I love you so much.
Petrified. If there was one word to describe the lump building in her throat and the churning of her stomach going awry; it was petrified. The sinking feeling as if her esophagus was stretched to its extent, swallowing a chunk of realization down her throat to the pit of her stomach swelling in nausea and nervousness.
Four years, Harry and Y/N have been together. There was no doubt in her mind that she loves him dearly, dreaming of a life that they would share in the future. He wanted it with someone else. He was building it with someone else. Y/N released a sob from her soft lips, her breath hitching as she tried to calm down. Talk to him first, she reminded herself. But what was there to talk about? Y/N had evidence in her hand that he was still speaking to Camille (Did he even stop?). That Harry was going to leave her, that he was cheating on Y/N.
Y/N had a plan in case this happened to her. She has watched way too many movies and snickered at the way the character always seemed to let the news of a cheating partner break their whole being. And she would like to apologize to them right now because she understood exactly the type of weight smashed unto her shoulders; too heavy to lift up by herself and it seemed as if she was crushed, watching Harry walk away from them; from her.
The words appeared to jump out of the page, especially her name. Camille. Written so prettily as if Harry took the time to pen her name with such carefulness and design. Y/N wanted to projectile vomit from her discovery but she couldn’t leave a mess in his fancy studio. And God, she hated herself right now for thinking about how Harry would react when her world was crumbling around her.
I’m leaving Y/N. We can finally be together and I wouldn’t have to worry about getting caught, Camille. I’m sorry that it’s taken me such a long time. I’ve kept you waiting for me but your patience is something that I greatly appreciate.
With her heart rate picking up, Y/N’s hand shook as she struggled to fold the letter properly as if she never saw it. One glance at the paper showed dotted streaks of wetness and only then did she realize the tears lathering her cheeks. Her cornea stung slightly, sensitive to the air as she blinked hard to will her tears back in. How long has this been going on?
“Y/N!?” Harry’s husky shout of her name boomed from the entrance. The large interior reverberating his voice, yet she failed to hear.
Harry quickly walked to the studio to retrieve the letter he was supposed to mail out today before he came home. Unfortunately, he forgot it in the midst of rushing after a slow-session of love-making with Y/N between the sheets early this morning.
Y/N did not know who’s heartbeat was thumping in her ears; hers or Harry. His lids peeled back to showcase surprise and horror plastered on his lips in the shape of an ‘o’. Harry could only hope that Y/N hadn’t gotten too far in reading the private letter. However, the way she rejected to meet his gaze after catching the guilty expression of his features; it was too late.
“Baby, please,” He whispered, the humming of the mechanic board switched on from last night’s session. Y/N shook her head, refusing to hear a bullshit apology spewing out of his mouth in a word vomit of ‘sorry’s’ and ‘i didn’t mean to’ because if he didn’t, why did he do it in the first place?
She walked past him, flinching as her shoulder brushed his and a gasp fell out of her mouth. Y/N didn’t know what to do but she knew that she wasn't to be surrounded by the one person who she thought would never hurt her. Long strides led her to the bedroom where she swiftly grabbed a duffel bag hidden away in the corners of the closet to pack a few items.
Harry stared at the piece of paper gracefully wisping against the air to fall on the ground. It was crumpled slightly on where Y/N held it. Tear stains blotted some of the ink, causing it to bleed through. Did he feel guilty? Of course, he did. Harry felt terrible that Y/N had to find out this way, but he cannot lie that he felt relieved because it’s finally over.
He walked to the seating area just after the entryway to the main door. He stood in the middle of the room with the letter tucked away properly in the envelope. Harry guessed that he didn’t have to mail this anymore. He heard her before he saw her, huffing slightly from the heavy bag on her shoulder. Sniffles scrunching up her nose like a cute bunny.
“Y/N, I’m--,” Harry reached out to her, not knowing why he did but seeing her struggle was never a sight he wanted to see.
Y/N stuck the palm of her hand out to him, pausing him in his footsteps, “I never want to see you again. Don’t contact me.”
The shiver crawling up his spine was something that he would never admit. Fear was picking away at his insides but he won’t let it show. Not when Harry was the one that insinuated it in the first place. And he won’t lie, his ego was as bruised as a ripe peach because annoyance immediately filled his body right after.
“Thank God,” He rolled his eyes upwards, placing his hands on his hips, “Took you long enough to realize that I don’t want you around anymore,” The moment the words leave his lips, Harry regretted even thinking about them. It wasn’t exactly the whole truth. He still cared for and he still wanted her around--just not in the way he used to. Maybe they could even be friends but he fucked up that chance when he decided to speak like an asshole to her, especially when he could practically see Y/N holding on to her last thread of not letting the tears fall in front of him.
His ego clawed at his muscled chest, exacerbating everything when he continued, "I'm not in love with you. Don't think I ever was. You're nothing compared to her and you know it. Can't believe I ever dated you,”
Y/N was trying to process his words on top of the emotions that were swirling inside of her. She felt as though her mind was about to explode. It was overwhelming. All these feelings and new information confusing her to the point where she was rendered speechless because didn’t Harry just tell her that he loved her last night? And weren’t they talking about starting a family last Christmas in his childhood home? Anne had even dropped the ‘baby’ bomb during dinner to which Harry blushed and stuttered his words over. Memories flashed before her, yet the only thing that came out of her mouth was a dreary, flat question of, “How long?”
“A year,’
Y/N knew that she had opened a can of worms ready to plague every happy memory she shared with him because a year ago, Harry and she were celebrating their third year together in Italy. A year ago, he promised to stay by her side ‘forever, until the end of time’. Exactly twelve months ago did Harry slow dance with Y/N at a friend’s wedding, drunk off his ass but coherent enough to mumble, ‘Want you to be my wife, Y/N,’ in her ear.
Harry was remorsing it more and more with every word that came out of his mouth. Though, he could not stop because he wanted to get the last word before she left.
“Y’know when I said I wanted a family with you? I lied. I felt sorry for you. No one else is going to want you anyway, so I thought I might try.” He was close to tears himself, his lip pursing tightly because all he ever wanted was a family with her. They had spent so many nights planning where to live if kids came up in the future. Harry can’t give up his facade now, not when suddenly apologizing will make him look like a jerk and an asshole.
“She's pretty y’know? Could’ve never have lived up to that. . . Camille, she's someone I'd want a family with. I'd marry her because she's worthy of me. Who are you in comparison?"
Who was she? Who was Y/N without Harry? Her life was centered around the one man she thought would stick around until her skin wrinkled in old age. Until her voice withered with a shaky plead. Until her arms felt too weak lift and so they had to settled for a simple graze on the hand.
Her shoulders slouched with emotional exertion. She didn’t even notice her fingernails digging into her skin as she pondered over her next words. Staring at him with a wilting confidence as he breathed heavily, daring her to talk back at him. To answer his difficult question fully knowing that Y/N didn’t know the answer to it and Harry has no problem taking full advantage of the way he was put on a pedestal in this relationship with her.
Y/N was trying her hardest to be strong. No way was she going to let Harry see her cry. Harry who has seen her cry many times before due to serious reasons and silly breakdowns because the book she had been reading didn’t end the way she wanted it to. And this relationship wasn’t progressing like how she had envisioned it to.
He was blatantly describing how much he did not appreciate her. Putting her down by attacking her with dreams that she had discussed with him because it was the easiest way for him to dispose of the guilt and sorrow he would’ve been feeling otherwise. Making it seem like it was her fault for not being enough for him when she has always been a match for him. Y/N knew that she was worth something and Harry not seeing how valuable she is doesn’t mean she had lost the ability to see herself as someone worth loving.
Y/N held his gaze, memorizing every speck of gold litter on his irises as she took off her engagement ring, throwing the jewellery at him without a second thought. In a rush of confidence, Y/N raised her arm to retreat behind her and shoot forward with a slapping sound as her palm met his cheek. If Harry taught her anything during their relationship, it would be to ‘treat people with kindness’ and that included herself.
She staggered a few steps back, watching as he stayed unmoving, his cheek reddening with a handprint. Shaking her head, Y/N aimed for the exit, opening the door to leave.
“Wait!”
She was only human to admit that that one word sparkled the light of hope within her. Y/N turned around, gripping the door handle.
“I feel guilty, my love. Please don’t leave, let’s talk about this properly,”
“I’m sorry you feel that way but you’re a liar for making me think that this relationship wasn’t over a year ago when you started cheating on me with her. You’re a coward for not telling me that your feelings have changed and an arrogant son of a bitch to not admit that you’re sorry,” It was her turn to speak now and it was best if Harry stayed put and listened. Perhaps it would even be the last time that he shared this close distance with her.
“I can see it in your eyes, H. I know you. You don’t mean it when you say you didn’t love me because I felt it and you showed me. I just don’t understand why you couldn’t tell me when—” Y/N suddenly clutched her stomach, cupping her hand over her mouth.
Harry’s body moved before he could even think, reaching his arms to steady her as she stumbled slightly. The hinge of the door creaked as she used the momentum to stabilize herself and push him away from her. She coughed harshly, piercing his ears as the dreadful sound scratched her throat. Harry was scared because Y/N wouldn’t let him touch her.
Y/N gagged, racing to the kitchen sink to empty her stomach. Retching sounds filled the otherwise quiet home as Y/N held her hair away from her face. Harry offered to thread his fingers through but she shook her head. He backed away.
Hushed coughs dripped past her lips, her body slouched and panting over the sink.
“Love? Are you okay?” Harry remained his distance, following her body in case she fell. The furrow in his brow warmed Y/N’s heart but she soon realized that caring was in his nature.
The refrigerator door opened, Y/N grabbed a bottle of water, twisting the cap open and putting the opening against her mouth. “Don't touch me. I don’t want you near me. I never want to see you again,” She slammed the half-drunk bottle on the counter, not caring if the water spilled; it’s his mess now.
Harry followed her like a lost puppy, “Where are you going? You can't go out in that state,"
Y/N ignored him, opting to crouch down to pick up the duffle bag she had dropped with a searing glare directed to him.
"Please wait, stay here. You're sick. Y’can't go out, love,”
At the sound of the word ‘love’ leaving his lips, Y/N shuddered. All she can remember was reading the letter addressed to someone else when all this time she thought it was reserved for her. She turned around, gasping in surprise when he abruptly stopped in front of her. Harry’s hands wrapped around her waist to prevent Y/N from falling backwards.
Upon inspection, Harry could see that Y/N was paler than usual. Her eyes decked out with glossiness and he wasn’t sure if it was from the tears she had managed to hold back or from the recent sickness. She pushed him away harshly, heaving all her strength to create distance between them.
“No,” Y/N spoke with grit, “You wanted to leave, right? I’ll make it easier for you—I’m gonna leave first.” Her clumsy nature decided to act up, causing her to stumble down the short steps of the door to the walkway. Harry caught Y/N by the forearm.
Y/N shrugged his warm hand off of her, “Get away from me!” Her shrill voice pierced a knife in his chest. Harry’s lips began to quiver because she has never pushed him away before.
“You'll never speak to me again?"
The door slammed in front of his face in response.
“Hmm, I guess not.”
The driveway is littered by the sound of her engine starting, then driving away. Now, Harry’s alone in the spotless house that Y/N had cleaned all day. He sat on the sofa, fiddling with the ring that Y/N had taken off. He had not let himself fully immerse in the gravity of how much he had hurt Y/N yet. He was about to--but one ring of his phone distracted him.
Harry smiled at the caller ID, swiping his thumb to answer.
“Hi, my love.”
When the relationship ended, Y/N imagined being bed-ridden. A lack of motivation to do anything casual such as standing. Watching the television seemed to be a task that required all of her energy and full-attention to be able to understand the subtitles on the screen. Her friends would knock continuously on her door to be met with no response because she was asleep or Y/N couldn’t be bothered with pitiful conversation asking her if she was okay. She would be too tempted to ask how Harry was doing when she could easily pull out her phone and search his name in a few quick taps. These used to be easy; as easy as breathing and loving Harry was easier than loving herself.
How was he doing? Y/N hoped that Harry was regretting his actions. She was yearning for the vibration of her phone to restart her heart like an AED stuck to her chest, sending her pulses to remember that they were not what they used to be. Or maybe the snippy ringtone Y/N had set specifically for him and only him would ring through the air as she wallowed in a burrito blanket. Frankly too emotionally worn out to even move an inch as she watched her phone face down on the bedside table of her new apartment.
Life doesn’t wait until Y/N is capable of being back on her feet before thundering down with the foundations of living. Five days into the breakup did she realize that the money she had saved up would be spent faster than she can replace it if she stayed any longer at the hotel near the heart of downtown. It was a spur of the moment decision to ‘treat herself’; she thought she deserved it after being called names and thrown aside like a used toy. And on the fifth day, she was on the lookout for places to live in as she adjusted to her new life without Harry.
It wasn’t like Y/N was completely dependent on him. She had a well-paying job; just not as good as his. And she could afford a nice apartment, just not as nice as his mansion. Nor did it have the same toasty feeling that enveloped her when she walked through the doors. Y/N told herself that she would give it a few months; that maybe it was just the change in setting that misplaced every bone in her body because everything she did felt off. Deep down, Y/N knew that things weren’t the same without him. She could either live a life reminiscing how she--they--used to do things or she could change and adapt to this ball thrown at her.
The decision was in her hands, yet she hesitated with every gambling thought crossing her mind. On one hand, she was used to a routine. It was a routine that never got boring to her, solely because Harry found a way to make things interesting; refreshing. On the other, Y/N would be in a never-ending comparison of how much she missed him or pat her shoulders because she was able to compromise the old parts of her that existed when Harry was around and to integrate it with a new version that was wary of anybody getting close to her.
The challenge was not easy when the media got hold of the news. It seemed as if everywhere Y/N went---mixed reactions and judgement attacked her with doe eyes offering the best of luck or disgusted snickers telling that she deserved it and that they--Camille and Harry--were perfect for each other. But when Y/N quite literally was carrying a piece of him and her inside her stomach did she step up to what she had to become to raise her baby.
It seemed like yesterday when Y/N stared at her reflection in the en-suite bathroom of Harry’s home, pinching at a subtle layer of fat that she was sure wasn’t there a few days ago. Bloated cheeks that added a fullness to her face were substituted as the result of a bright smile plastered on her face because she Harry had pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead before she left for work that day. The sudden aversion to fragrant foods she absolutely adored flew right over her head and excused as a bad batch.
And the most painful memory was the day Harry and Y/N’s relationship ended. The beginning of something new, something beautiful was right under their noses. Y/N wondered what could have happened if she didn’t find the letter. When the symptoms of pregnancy became more obvious each day; would Harry notice the change in her physique? The crinkle of her nose when met with a sandwich containing pickles that she used to love?
Y/N couldn’t help but envision holding the stick with a tiny ‘+’ pixelated by dark colours. Sitting on the closed toilet seat as she contemplated delivering the news to him in the early hours of the morning after she was awoken by a flush of morning sickness. Y/N daydreamed about watching his sleeping face smooth out of any lines as he dreamed peacefully and wondered if this was still a part of what he wanted with her. Maybe she would jostle him gently, rousing him with a poke as she kneeled on his side of the bed, flailing the pregnancy test between her fingers until he blinked the sleep out of his waterline. Harry would present her a doozy smile before realizing what she held--to which he would sit up faster than he had ever done, gazing at her with a pleading stare. For Y/N to confirm that yes, she was pregnant. Yes, they were going to have a baby and yes, Harry was going to be a father. A little family in the works.
But that daydream was reeled in like a fishing hook in grave waters as reality grounded her. She was apparently two months into her pregnancy when Y/N had mistaken the sickness as an inevitable reaction to finding out his infidelity. Hearing him say the term of endearment as if he had not used it with another person made Y/N want to grab him by the shoulders to hold a steady contact, jostling him until answers spilled out of his mouth. Answers that Y/N deemed justifiable but was there ever a good excuse for cheating? She wanted to strip him out of the apologies filling his mouth and get straight to the question of why he had done it. But even then, Y/N knew that there was no way she was going to be satisfied with his answers. It was just a matter of her accepting that the idea of ‘what could have been’ would live inside her head because she was the only one that knew about the life inside of her.
Harry had not made an effort to speak to her besides arranging the dates to pick up her things. She had to wear large clothes to hide her growing belly because Y/N wasn’t sure if she even had the right to tell him something so personal anymore. It fit well with the narrative that she was a depressed homebody that craved the touch of his fingertips on her skin, the taste of his lips on her tongue and the weight of his arms around her. Albeit that he was the father, Harry had obviously moved on way before they ended; a little over a year ago now to be precise.
Y/N was almost one-hundred percent sure that Harry had blocked her number. Scratch that, she was certain if the way her messages failed to send were anything to go by. She could handle seeing the handle of ‘read’ on the bottom of a message because at least she’d know that Harry did read it and that he was aware. But watching the encircled, crimson exclamation point appear was just another reminder that he planned to erase four years from his life to start anew.
So what if at four months, Y/N was attending another doctor’s appointment by herself, trying to amount to as little attention as possible? Well, today was the day that she was going to find out the baby’s gender. Her bump was definitely noticeable now and extremely uncomfortable especially sitting on a plastic, grey chair in the waiting room. The device in her hand felt like stone perceiving the icon of blaring red that indicated yet another failed message to the contact previously named ‘My Love’, now to just ‘Harry’.
Y/N: I’m finding out the gender of our baby today
Y/N: I’m hoping for a girl but either way, I just want the baby to be healthy.
“Y/N? Dr. O’Sullivan is ready to see you,” The nurse clad in scrubs walked out with a clipboard gripped in her hands.
Y/N stood up, pausing to retrieve her items. She took a breath before entering the room, catching sight of the doctor in his stereotypical white coat focused on the computer screen that showed her information.
“You know what to do. Good luck today,” The nurse mused, handing her a folded hospital gown to change into as she pointed towards the direction of the room with a little nook to change privately. After struggling a bit with pulling off her top, Y/N tied the strings of the hospital gown.
“Hi, Y/N. How are you today?” He asked, standing up to gather the items he would need. Y/N made herself comfortable on the small bed, the white paper crinkling as her weight shifted.
She sighed deeply, “I’m alright. Really excited, actually,” A grin appeared on her face with just how close she was to find out the gender of the baby, “How about you?”
“Good as always,”
Connor O’Sullivan was the name of the doctor. They met when Y/N was in search of the top-tier family doctor’s around the city and instantly had a connection. He had a trustworthy aura that Y/N deemed acceptable to guide her to a healthy pregnancy. A friendship had definitely blossomed around the doctor-patient boundary but they stayed within their limits. Inside jokes existed but it had never crossed the line. And sure, touches to the shoulder happened once in a while but nothing had escalated further.
Y/N’s baby bump was exposed to the cool room. She shivered when a gloved hand applied the gel on her taut skin. Stretch marks were littering the sides of her tummy. It was itchy and uncomfortable. However, it was tolerable especially after applying a combination of creams and oil to soothe the ache. It was also another reminder that she really was about to become a mother.
“Cold?” Connor teased with an easy smile. Y/N rolled her eyes upwards in response, “You’re the doctor here,”
He chuckled, directing her attention to the small screen beside them. The static fizz of black and white slowly morphing to a more discernible image as he attached the device to her skin, finding the perfect angle to produce a clear picture. The first time Y/N saw her little baby; it was the size of a lemon. The next couple of visits showed progression in their growth; tiny baby feet, stubby legs, and sprouting fingers could be seen on the ultrasound.
They looked more and more like a proper baby now--like the ones one would see in the clinics and Y/N really couldn’t believe that she was about to find out their gender. Y/N couldn’t tell just by inspecting the picture because of her lack of expertise.
“You’re having a. . .” Connor began, edging his voice at the last word. He wiggled his brows as Y/N’s eyes widened.
She balled her fists, “Oh, hell. Just spit it out, C,”
“A girl. You’re having a little girl,” He peered up at the patient, watching tears fill the brim of her waterline as she gasped, palming her slightly open mouth.
“A-a girl?” Y/N craned her head to look at the square image, blurrier because of the tears but beautiful nonetheless. “I can’t believe I’m having a girl,”
The doctor wiped the gel off of her tummy with a cloth, switching off the machine as he waited for another reaction out of her. Y/N tossed her legs to the side, putting on her slip-on vans to fully-comprehend the news. “I’m having a baby girl,”
Connor nodded, releasing an ‘oomph’ at a sudden pressure around his middle. Y/N wrapped her arms around him, feeling the tube of his stethoscope dangling against her cheek. Her lashes fluttered, happy tears streaming out. He returned the gesture with soft rubs on her lower back.
“I’m sorry, I’m so emotional,” Y/N pulled away with a huff, using her fingertips to rub the wetness towards her temple. “I’m so happy but I just wished that he was--,” She cut herself off, pursing her lips as an image of Harry carrying their baby appeared in her head.
“I understand, Y/N.” Connor mirrored her distraught expression as he really did feel sorry for Y/N. However, he couldn’t explain the extra twinge in his heart at seeing her frown over a lost love. “You’re doing great on your own,”
She sighed for possibly the tenth time that day, “We both wanted to name her Halo if it’s a girl or Arlo if it’s a boy. It reminds me of what an angel she will be,”
“Wait until she gets older,” Connor joked to lighten the mood, receiving a glimmer from Y/N. “What d’ya say you get changed and I’ll print out this ultrasound, sounds good? A few more months then we can meet baby Halo,”
Halo.
Harry’s relationship with Camille was a dream. It was everything he imagined, maybe even better. The first time they dabbled on getting together was four years ago, before Y/N was even around in his life. There could be so many things right about a relationship and it could still be wrong. Maybe it wasn’t the right place, the right time, or they simply had too many disagreements and flaws that both parties were unwilling to work it to make them--work.
Usually, the third time would be a charm but Harry felt that he and Camille didn’t need a third time. As he said, the past couple of months felt like a dream. He could close his eyes and still feel the soft skin of the woman he loves grazing his fingertips. He couldn’t help but transpire into a new chapter of their love; one where it wasn’t just them tumbling in the sheets. When the squeals in the kitchen while making breakfast were paired with pleads for whipped cream on their pancakes; a child.
Harry was old enough to know what he wanted--at least, he thought he was--and a family was in his books. He finally found a partner who had the same mindset in their future; Camille. At first, he was absolutely sure that Y/N could not be erased from; but her name wasn't set in stone and once he found someone better--no way in hell was he going to let that be a missed opportunity.
__
Camile sighed softly, laying on Harry's bare chest as he pulled the sheets over their clammy bodies. Their orgasms settled in their veins, the rush and panting breaths calming down with each blink of an eye.
With her finger swirling patterns on his skin, Harry stared at the ceiling in hesitant contemplation, “Babe, have you ever thought of getting off the pill?” She paused.
“Uh, sure, but then we would have to use a condom?” Her voice raised at the end in curiosity.
Harry released an awkward chuckle, gently swivelling her body off of him so he could sit up. Reaching over, his fingers found the flip of the light switch that turned the bedside lamp on. He smiled at her appearance, mirroring his stance as she sat on the bed, a sheet clung around her body.
He shook his head, “No, no. No condoms, no pills and, y’know. . .”
The confusion was evident on Camille’s features, “I don’t exactly understand what you’re trying to say, H--,’
“‘M asking if y’wanna try for a baby, love.’
Silence overtook the room. Harry held his breath in his throat, seemingly trying to swallow down the lump that had formed because of her lack of response. She cleared her throat.
“A baby?” Harry nodded with excitement despite the flat tone whipping past her lips. “I--don’t know how to say this, Harry. I’ve never wanted kids.”
His face fell, the words lingering around his head like a flock of birds. The dizzying epiphany rattled his head clear of any other thoughts besides the fact that there was a hole in his book; burnt and toasted with sparks inkling his skin.
“W-why not?” His palms fell flat on the silky sheets, fisting the fabric to keep him settled. “A mini you and a mini-me running around the house. Won’t that be fun, baby? Don’t you want that?”
It almost hurt Camille to see the grin plastered on his face, hopeful eyes practically begging her to change her mind. But she couldn’t.
“Harry, that part will be fun. What won’t be fun is getting huge, morning sickness, weird cravings, hormonal imbalance, the aftermath of labour, the sleepless nights, the puke, the changing diapers, the back pain, the headaches, the fights when they’re older and so much more” Her accent rippled with each explanation rejecting the idea.
Harry huffed, crossing his arms subconsciously to shield himself, “But it’ll be worth it,”
“It won’t be,” Camille scooted closer to him, situating herself on her knees so that she could look into his eyes clearly. “Look, I made up my mind ages ago and I thought you felt the same since you haven’t settled down yet”
“I was jus’ lookin’ for the right person,” His head dipped down, dropping his gaze their intertwined hands. “It’s gonna’ be okay, Cam. We can make it work. We’ll have our own family. We’ll be okay,”
She shook her head in refusal, “It will be okay for you, H.” Harry could feel her hands itching to slip past his. He held her tighter. He didn’t want to lose her. “You can get back to work immediately. I’m a model and it takes time to lose weight. Even when I do--I won’t look the same. It’ll take me months, if not years to even resemble my present body.
“I don’t care how your body looks. You’re still gonna’ look amazing. You think I won’t love you after birthing our little baby?” With brows pressed together, he pouted his lip in curiosity as she rolled her eyes.
Camille sighed exasperatedly, “I don’t want children, Harry. The sooner you understand that the better. It’s MY body. I’ll be carrying the kid around for 9 months. No thank you.” She stood up, stumbling slightly as the sheets tangled around her feet.
He followed suit. His height towered over her as she crouched down to collect the pieces of clothing strewn around haphazardly in a rush to have each other. “But it’ll be MY baby, Cam. OUR baby, don’t you want that?”
Fingernails dug into the skin of her palm, holding her clothes as she spoke, “I don’t, Harry. Why can’t you just accept that?”
In the heat of the moment, Harry couldn’t help but quell the ache in his chest with a memory he thought he had thrown away, “Because Y/N and I planned to have a family. A-and I thought you and I could have one too,”
Camille huffed, keeping her distance. She walked to the bathroom, “Well, maybe you shouldn’t have fucking cheated on her then,”
His fight with Camille left the both of them on edge, barely able to handle the thick tension surrounding the house. Even though she took refuge in the bedroom and Harry wandered to the kitchen to cool off; it was impossible for them to stay in one place without having another argument.
Harry didn’t mean to let the memory slip past his lip. He hated it when he found himself comparing his past relationships to his current one. He felt that there was no need to do so, especially when the point of all of it was to start anew. Harry guessed that his desire to have a family was too powerful to keep his thoughts in check. The ache bubbling in his chest rose to a boil with each rejection that Camille answered with.
It wasn’t like he didn’t respect her decision. He really did. But Harry didn’t know if he was going to be happy being with her without progressing into something more through the years. What he was asking from her is just as difficult as what she was asking from him. Camille didn’t want to have children and Harry didn’t want to not have kids. There was no room for compromise if they both, mutually, wanted to respect each other's' decisions’ to the absolute fullest. However, the chances of him living a content life were zero to none.
And that was how Harry ended up at a bar, alone, at nine o’clock in the evening. They were invited by his friend, Kora, to a birthday celebration. Harry was reaching the limit of his threshold having to fake a smile and a chuckle while saying, “Camille’s feelin’ a bit sick tonight. ‘S just me,”
The thing with this celebration was that Kora was initially Y/N’s friend. He and Kora had become close friends while he was with Y/N and he guessed that that was the reason why he was invited. Although, it made him wonder why one of Y/N’s best friends invited him when she was aware of what happened between them. Surely, there was no way that Kora would invite Y/N, Harry, and Camille to the same crowded space, would she?
The sudden nervousness swirling at the pit of his stomach came with a quick neck as Harry scanned each premise of the bar. It was difficult considering the dim lighting and endless amounts of heads moving against each other. He hoped to see Y/N; just to see how she was doing! But he also felt like puking the alcohol he consumed because--as much as he wanted to admit it or not--he missed her.
After a half-hour of being vigilant, Harry willed himself to relax by the counter. Leaning one elbow on the wood as he spoke to another person regarding his upcoming album.
‘Yeah, yeah. It’s goin’. ‘M really excited for it cause’ I’ve got a lot of inspiration for some reason,” Harry answered with unyielding precision.
“We both know where that came fro--Oh hi! Sorry, H. Gotta check in on, Johnny,”
He rolled his eyes under closed lids, sipping on his drink, eyeing Kora when he heard a quip of Y/N’s name. Harry inconspicuously moved closer to her, making sure that he didn’t catch her attention.
“You’re not here,” Kora yelled with a whine to her tone. Her drunk self was still coherent enough to embark on the bartender to make another drink for her. However, Harry guessed that her senses were obscured with the way she yelled through the phone despite it being held to her ear and the function tapped to ‘speaker’.
“I know. I’m sorry. I promise to make it up to you, Kora,” Y/N’s gentle chuckle rumbled through the speaker, making Harry smile. It was the first time he heard it in a while. He sometimes wondered if he had the right to feel relieved when Harry was the one that blocked her number in the first place.
“It’s my birthday! Why aren’t you here drinking with us?” Kora quietly thanked the bartender.
Harry’s curiosity spiked; why wasn’t Y/N here tonight?
“It’s because I’m pregnant, silly. Can’t really do that when I’ve got a bubba in my tummy,” Both women giggled, Kora, making a sound of acknowledgement, “Ohhh right!“
He really wished that he would have stuck by long enough to hear more of their conversation but Kora’s boyfriend was approaching her and he wasn’t in the mood to discuss anything if he was honest.
She moved on fast, Harry thought. He was definitely sounding like an entitled jerk. Hear him out though; Harry was happy with Camille. Yes, he had been cheating on Y/N for a whole year and yes, she had to find out through a letter but Y/N was pregnant. Did she really move on that quickly?
Despite the guilt gnawing at her for missing her best friend Kora’s birthday, Y/N was also looking forward to getting some sleep. It was a couple of hours after their phone call together when the nauseating tightening of Y/N’s chest woke again and had been for the past three days.
It was a horrible feeling that spread from the confines of her stomach. The bile rising up from her throat that left a burning feeling from the acids that escaped her mouth as she quickly threw the covers away from her legs, running towards the direction of her bathroom where she emptied the remnants of her stomach from last night’s craving of pickles and hot Cheetos. Her chest heaved with exertion as she draped her arms over the white porcelain of the disinfected toilet, hunching over as her stomach seemingly pumped away toxins.
Y/N wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, visibly shuddering as she pointed a finger to flush the toilet. She had a feeling that she won’t be getting any more sleep despite the time being three o’clock in the morning. Halo was insistent on staying up past normal bedtime hours. Y/N sighed, walking lethargically towards the dresser to retrieve her phone before heading to the living room nearby.
Y/N: You up, doc?
The blue loading bar swooped to the right as Y/N sent a message to Connor. She was at the peak of her pregnancy and her due date was occurring within a few weeks. A lot had changed since the day she found out the gender of her baby. Between the emotional trauma of having been broken up with--the hard-hitting fact was that Y/N was pushed into a direction of pregnancy that wasn’t exactly her ideal path. She pretty much preferred the dream-like sequence of having Harry accompanying her to her ultrasounds.
Just as Y/N was about to delve into another imaginary scenario of Harry sending her cute baby onesies that he would absolutely need to purchase for their little one, the humming of her phone pulled her from drowning in pathetic wishes and desires.
Connor: What’s up, Y/N?
She jutted her lips as she typed out a response. Contemplating whether or not to send the message as Y/N’s thumb hovered over the arrow, she paused to wonder why she was feeling so guilty in texting another man months and antecedent her break up with Harry. He was happy with someone else, yet Y/N felt as if her feet were planted in a puddle of sticky glue; unable to move on from the life she built in her head. Although it hurt to admit that Harry only existed in her memories now, reminiscing the spoken words they have discussed was another stab to her already bruised heart.
Y/N: Halo’s keeping me up again..
Connor: Want me to come over?
To keep you company
The reply was instantaneous and she could not deny the flutter of her heart beating subtly despite the extremities it had endured. And Y/N couldn’t help but notice the jitter of her baby bump morphing a plump bulge where Halo had kicked it as if it was a stamp of approval of the man coming over.
It wasn’t the first time that Connor drove to her place at the brink of dawn to keep her company in case the sickness became too much for Y/N to handle. The first time was simply a desperate action because she was rattled by the sudden spike in dizziness and incoherence of her sickness that Y/N wasn’t confident in herself to handle it alone. Times after that were more for his comfort when Connor said that he would ‘rather be safe than sorry’ while he rubbed his palm up and down her back.
Minutes later, a knock on her door sounded, forcing Y/N to haul her plump body to the comfort of the sofa, pausing the rerun of a television show. She waddled towards the entrance, the fit of her pyjama waistband snuggly wrapping around her mid-belly. A stretch of skin exposed between her bottoms and her tank top.
“Hi, thank you for coming,” Y/N greeted shyly, widening the door to let Connor in as he chuckled, toeing off his shoes by the closet door.
He waved her off, “It’s no problem, really,” Connor assisted her back to her couch, aiding her by letting his hands stabilize in the air in case anything happened.
The moment their bottoms hit the cushions did Y/N realize the gravity of the guilt spiralling in her chest. Connor laughed softly, his back resting on the couch with his right arm resting on the top, fingertips barely brushing over her shoulder. He reached over the coffee table to obtain the bowl of freshly popped popcorn, picking one to munch on but not before looking over at Y/N.
“Want some?”
She snapped out of her daze, cheeks heating profusely at being caught blatantly staring at how Connor fit naturally into her home both physically and metaphorically. He couldn’t have appeared at a better time when Y/N not only needed medical assistance and a support group by her side. However, she asked herself if he could be anything more than a friend. She shook her head ‘no’.
“No thanks. I’m quite full,” Y/N pressed a palm to her belly when a kick halted her breath. ‘Okay maybe a little,” She rolled her eyes, scolding Halo. “She’s a hungry one,”
“I’m gonna pop some more popcorn, kay? Be right back,”
Y/N heaved a sigh, watching Connor’s retrieving figure. Her admiration was cut off by the ringing of her phone.
Harry wasn’t so sober when he opened the door to his car. He wasn’t in his right mind either when he unblocked Y/N’s number and tapped on her name, switching the screen as it rang. He threw his head back against the headrest, biting his lip when the dial tone rang and rang.
“Hello?”
Harry’s breath hitched, losing his voice momentarily before his slowed brain caught up to move his tongue.
“Y/N? It’s Harry,” He spoke quietly, “Don’t hang up. Hear me out,” His ears stretched to pick up the click of a dropped call but he didn’t hear any.
“Heard from Kora that y’were pregnant, yeah? And I was wondering, whose is it?” The venom in his voice dripped. His drunken stupor rendered him unable to grasp reality.
“I’m not answering that,” Y/N’s tone was firm and direct. Harry could imagine her pursing her lips inwards.
“Why not? Scared that y’gonna have to admit that everything you put on was an act? How can y’move on so fast and give me shit about it?” The parking lot was filled with cars yet Harry could see that he was the only one currently occupying one. If there was a better metaphor of feeling alone in a crowded place; then he would love to hear it.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Harry? You cheated on me! You slept with another woman while we were together. You loved another woman while we were together. For an entire year, you lied to me and deceived me,”
“Jus’. . .answer the question,” He pinched his nose bridge, a headache pounding from the bottom of his skull.
“How dare you speak to me this way? You have no right calling me up out of nowhere,” Y/N lowered the volume of her voice, “and asking all these ridiculous questions,”
“S’not ridiculous,”
She gave a smile to Connor who entered the room with a bowl of delicious smelling popcorn. Y/N clutched the phone to her chest. Connor situated his body beside her with a glimmering smile, his mouth twitching as he eyed her bump, “Can I talk to her?” A gentle question breezed past his lips, moving closer when Y/N gave him approval.
The man kneeled down on the floor, leaning his head downwards to speak to Halo, “Hey little one, y’gotta be nice to momma, okay?” His fingers waved when her feet kicked out. Connor looked up to Y/N with a proud smile, “Did you see that? She responded!”
____
Harry felt his heart clench as a new voice filled the speakers. His neurons were fried with each thought firing endlessly, “Who’s that?
“Don’t call me again,”
The dial tone rung in his ears, echoing in the quiet space of his Range Rover.
_____
Pressing the power button for a few seconds, the device turned black and was left on the arm of the couch. The excitement in Connor’s voice brought a dreamy smile to Y/N’s face, chewing on some popcorn. The beating of her heart seemed to double at the sight of him being so thrilled with her baby.
“We can’t wait to see you. I bet you’re gorgeous,” Connor dropped his volume to a whisper to prevent Y/N from hearing, ‘’Like your mom,”
Y/N’s relaxed and comfortable state of mind mindlessly worked her hands to thread the hair on top of Connor’s head. Just like she used to do to Harry. Her expression dimmed at the thought, painting a faint simper when Connor looked at her in surprise before shrugging it off, continuing to talk to her bump. She shivered when a warm pair of lips attached to the skin of her stomach. Gentle pressure planting a kiss as Connor said his goodbyes to baby Halo.
“She’s a smart one, that much I can tell,” He confirmed, moulding his body to the lingering shape he had left behind in his previous position. And Y/N was flustered to say that she might have scooched a little closer to his body, snuggling her head at the junction of his shoulder.
“Can I?” She asked, doe eyes raising a question that would allow them to cross the boundary they had limited themselves to. He nodded reflexively as if he was awaiting this moment. Connor took the initiative to pull Y/N closer to him, subconsciously kissing the top of her head. The scent of the woman’s shampoo wafting through his nose and invading his senses in a sweet smell that he would gladly immerse himself to.
It was the most pleasant feeling for Y/N to completely let go of her former worries about starting anew when Connor was as cozy as a heater. He made Y/N feel safe and secure with his body shielding her and his actions hinting at a subdued attraction he hadn’t fully shown to her.
And Connor was proud of himself for not quite literally freaking out when Y/N smothered her face to his chest as time passed and the sun rays filtered through the blinds as she fell asleep. Her words mumbled in a jumbled mess about how she wished that morning sickness wasn’t called morning sickness.
It wasn’t totally accurate, she complained. She thought that it was a misleading name; catfishing perhaps. He had chuckled in response, tracing his fingers up and down her arm and feeling goosebumps rise on her skin.
The orange hue of the bright star painting the sky lighter and lighter until the pitch-black sight morphed into a mixture of shades that could only be described as beautifully grandiose--just like Y/N’s sleeping face when the sun casts a shadow to highlight her nose, scrunching with the slight graze of the back of Connor’s finger rubbing the tip. Or the way the luminescence caressed the apples of her cheeks where her lashes rested, mouth puffing breaths of air as she allowed herself to be vulnerable for the first time in months.
____
A heavy feeling had settled into Harry's chest after Y/N hung up the phone. The new voice he had heard had unmistakably been a man's. Who was he? Was Y/N having that man's baby?
Before he could help it, Harry was seething. He saw red, and if he were in a children's movie there would be steam coming out of his ears right about now. How dare she move on so fast? How could she have a baby with another man so soon? But when he thought about it; Harry couldn't even recall how long it had been since they'd broken up. It made him feel somewhat guilty. He hadn't meant to forget her. It had just happened.
His guilt soon manifested into frustration-- her being pregnant was a constant reminder that she had moved on with another man. Insecurity clawed at his insides- did he really mean that little to her? 'You cheated on her' his conscience pricked, but he brushed away the thought. He hated being reminded of his infidelity to his fiancée.
His defence mechanism kicked in like clockwork, using aggression to shield his insecurities. He opened his messages app and clicked her contact, typing drunkenly.
Harry: 'Your a whore'
'You're*'
'Diid yu cheat on me? I bet youu did'
'Do u sleepp arond a loot?'
'fck u'
He smiled smugly at his phone screen, satisfied with what he had sent her. He shut his phone off, and started his car, ready to drive back home. He knew he was being irresponsible, but between his current girlfriend not wanting a child and his ex being pregnant with one; he couldn't bring himself to care. He drove himself home, only to find a terribly worried Camille waiting for him to arrive.
He glanced at the huge clock on the wall behind her. 1:32 am. He shrugged his shoulders and brushed past her to their bedroom. In his drunken gait, he knocked over a metal tray. The loud 'clang' made him hiss and clutch his temples, a headache pounding in his skull.
Camille sighed and made her way over to him, wrapping her arms around his torso and muttering a "come here, H" Despite his sour mood, he found himself craving affection. What he wouldn't admit was that he didn't crave Camille's affection in particular. He just wanted to be held and feel safe in someone's arms. Anyone's arms. But despite himself, he mumbled, "m'sorry I left like tha'. Should'nt 've spoken to ya that way,"
She nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "It's okay, Harry, you're back home now. C'mon, let's get you changed and then let's sleep."
He bobbed his head up and down, willingly letting her drag him up the stairs to their shared bedroom, "Love ya,” Camille helped him out of his trousers.
She smiled softly, "Love you too, mon Cheri,” He giggled drunkenly at the showcase of her accent.
Harry woke up with a pounding headache, whining as his alarm rang at eight am in the morning. He opened his eyes to see that Camille wasn't in bed with him. His lips fell into a pout because of waking up alone.
There was a note on the bedside table.
'got called in for an emergency meeting for the show next week. be home by 5pm. love you!'
He sighed and reached for the glass of water she had left him. His brows furrowed when he didn't see Ibuprofen next to the water. Y/N left him ibuprofen beside the glass of water. Always. Harry snapped himself out of his daze, reprimanding himself for even thinking about her. Why is he thinking about her?
__
After a hot shower, Harry made his way downstairs to make himself breakfast. 'Eggs and toast', he thought. Placing 2 eggs in water and setting it on the stove before loading the toaster. He looked mindlessly through the drinks in the fridge, settling on 'Organic Orange Juice'. Y/N had introduced him to this particular brand after he had complained that all the others had too much sugar to be 'healthy'.
"This has no added sugar, H," she mentioned, "They sweeten it with honey."
Harry groaned, snapping himself out of the daydream, ashamed for thinking about his ex. Again.
He placed his breakfast on a plate and poured himself a glass of juice, sitting at the dining table alone. He chewed slowly with a mouthful as he unlocked his phone, beginning to go through his notifications.
Camille sent him a text. It was a selfie of her at her meeting, smiling and holding up a peace sign. He mirrored the expression, sending a tet back
Harry: "stop being so cute"
He clicked the ‘back’ icon.
The second he does, his heart positively skips a beat. Not in a good way, either. Y/N's contact was just below Camille's, suddenly remembering the nasty things he had texted her the previous night.
"Fuck," He whispered under his breath, opening her contact. 'Read' was plastered under the messages he had sent. Y/N had seen them.
____
Connor had left a few hours later because he had morning rounds at the clinic the next day. Y/N had bid him goodbye with a shy kiss to the corner of his mouth,
“Thanks for coming, C,"
He smiled and pulled her into an embrace "Anytime, angel," into her hair. A warmth spread through her chest--one that she hadn’t felt in a long while.
After Connor drove off (with a final wave from his car window, of course), Y/N walked back in to settle on her couch again. Halo kicked a few times as she sat down, making Y/N squirm and giggle.
"Hi, you little goose! What's got you all excited, hm?" She rubbed over the area where Y/N felt the kick. As if, in response to her mother's voice, baby Halo kicked out again, right where Y/N's palm was. "Are you trying to high-five me, precious girl?"
Y/N cooed at her swelling tummy, a huge smile plastered across her face. "Or are ya just excited about Connor coming over to spend time with us? Got a good feeling about him, have you?"
She feels a gentle kick, it was almost as if the baby in her tummy wanted to say 'yes'. Y/Nhummed softly, caressing her tummy, "Me too, angel. I've got a good feeling about him, too."
___
A few minutes later, Y/N reboots her phone her previously switched off phone so that she could see if Connor had texted her. He had.
C: Thanks for letting me spend time with you and Halo tonight. I loved it. I have a bit of time off on Sunday, do you want to get Pizza?'
Her eyes gleamed, but she hesitated for just a second. Connor had texted her. But so had Harry. He had sent her five messages, and Y/N wasn't sure if she wanted to see what he had to say.
She wanted to make sure before texting Connor back. Y/N was not sure what she was expecting or hoping for, but what she saw was certainly not it.
Harry: 'Your a whore'
'You're*',
'Diid yu cheat on me? I bet you did
'Do u sleepp arond a loot?'
'fck you'
She felt tears stinging her eyes, cursing at the pregnancy hormones that have gotten her feeling this emotional about drunk texts from her ex. Her body ignited with fury quicker than she realized she could. Y/N doesn't hesitate to click the 'block' button to his contact.
She didn't need a man like him around her or her baby. Or her potential boyfriend.
Y/N: 'Hiya!,'
'it was great having you over, and I'd love to hang out! Down for pizza anytime. Halo loves it too :P'
The reply was instantaneous
C: 'Great!'
'See you Sunday, then! What are your favourite toppings?"
Y/N smiled brightly, finding his curiosity incredibly endearing. She typed back a response, gleaming with joy at the fact that she finally had someone she could rely on.
____
"Fuck. fuck fuck fuck," Harry repeated, clicking the call button to Y/N's contact. He needed to apologize. Desperately. He needed her to know that he didn't mean any of those things; he was just drunk. Not that that was an excuse.
'The number you are trying to reach is not in service', an automated voice said.
Harry groaned in frustration, opening her message contact, typing out;
Harry: "I'm so sorry, I don't know what had gotten into me. I was drunk. I'm very sorry, Y/N xx H."
He took a bite out of his toast before looking back at his screen to see if she had read the message yet. He almost wished he hadn't. Harry’s heart plummeted. His chest constricted as tears stung at the back of his eyes. Throwing up the meal he just scarfed sounded like an option right now.
A flaming red exclamation mark met his startled glance, and his chest heaved as he read,
'Not delivered,'
A writer that cannot write is dead.
When one loses the ability to tell their stories and anecdotes through the mere action of swirling words together to create an imaginable atmosphere of real-world fantasy; they are dead. A writer recovering from the mundane and mediocre way of penning experiences to bounce back into what they used to be is difficult. It is easier to free fall and drown in the depths of despair. The moment thoughts and rumination fog up to form a blurry image of conviction is a warning sign, blaring at the back of their minds and sometimes even in their faces.
Harry is a writer--or, he was. Picking up the pen to style the words lingering in his head used to be as easy as blinking; quick and natural. Now, the words claw at the swell of his throat, trying to spit an adjective to describe the way he felt. It was at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be lathed into existence. It did not matter if his cognition was mingled with various chemicals aimed to be able to feel happiness.
He was sober but he had trouble placing his finger on why it was so strenuous to narrate his feelings throughout the breakup. Being high or drunk was never the answer for him. Weed made him tired and made him have a case of cottonmouth. Harry learned from a young age that he should only ever engage with alcohol if he was in a mindset and setting that catered to increase existing good vibes. He thought that maybe he was in an odd phase of perceiving the opposite, and so he intoxicated himself enough to understand that it didn’t matter if he was soaked head-to-toe in sobriety or whizzed out of his mind by the amber liquid swirling in the glass in his hand. But that wasn’t the circumstance. It also didn’t matter if he was grasping his favourite pen to write--because it was comfortable--or tapping his calloused thumbs against his phone keypad. Hell, it didn’t make a difference when he sat down and prepared his typewriter to indulge in a headspace of vintage songwriting. Maybe that would help.
It didn’t.
He had stories to tell. Everything was laid out in misty overcast yet Harry’s great ideas morphed into gentle mistakes, harsh mistakes and discoveries that had him almost ripping his hair out of the roots of his scalp. When he felt the wave of his ocean-thoughts rise and peek where the sand shifted, his fingers were ready to move and discern for the eyes to see. But with each fritter, he couldn’t seem to get even two paragraphs in to decide that it was utter shit.
Harry was old enough to understand that slumping on the wet sand was a part of life. Sometimes picking up a fistful of grains and throwing them back to the sea was a great way to release frustration. But it seemed like this plunge of his ability to write was a hole of quicksand. He was trying his hardest to displace himself as swiftly as possible but it only made his scenario worse. The muddy sand clung unto his legs like sticky glue, heftier with each effort to leave. He wanted to move on. He wanted to forget everything that occurred in the past four years. Harry wanted to erase Y/N from his life because she wasn’t around anymore to bring those memories back to sparkly existence.
What he needed to do was nestle himself into a certain depth, calmly, in order to pull a limb out and ensure that his progress on the so-called ‘moving on’ did not have any drawbacks. Until then, he cannot possibly create songs that he was well-known for if he wasn’t patient enough.
He wanted so badly to tell his side of the story. Harry craved to think as clearly as he did when he told Y/N about his plan for their future. Admitting to his feelings was a hard route. Sure, he can be vulnerable but it took a great deal of convincing on his part to immerse himself in the deepest parts of his brain to understand why he felt the way he did. He usually had the means of songwriting to help him out but that obviously wasn’t working out that good for him.
___
Harry was packing the rest of Y/N’s things in boxes to be picked up later in the afternoon. He was annoyed at first at how she depended on him to fold her clothes properly instead of doing the bundle of the work herself. But he guessed that she didn’t want to be around him for longer than she had to. To be frank, he also did not want to indulge in what might turn into an argument if they spoke about the reason for their breakup. It was just a bit confusing because he had an urge to still want her around despite their less than likely situation.
Torture. If Harry had one chance to describe the way he felt right now; it was torture. With every nook of Y/N’s side of the closet emptying into brown, cardboard boxes--he physically how much she had integrated her life with his. How much space she took up in his life. How his clothes and her clothes were so interchanged between them that he couldn’t decide if the gray pull-over was actually his or hers. And in a moment of selfishness did he tuck it away for his safe-keeping despite seeing the tag imprinted on the inside; a shop that he hadn’t set foot in so it was a guarantee that it was hers.
Her scent embedded in the thin threads of each fabric wafted to his nose; each with a new wave of memories engulfing his senses as if each piece garnered a specific scent tailored to a specific event. Like her sunflower sundress--it smelled of fresh flowers as if the print was a scratch and sniff that released a fragrance. Or their DIY-ed tie-dye shirt of pastel blue and cotton candy pink. It was a matching piece made out of the cheap dye and a simple white tee but it was theirs. Things like these made Harry want to yell in frustration because every time he thought that he was completely over her-- Y/N appears out of visibly nowhere and towers over him.
Seeing her for the first time in days was a breath of relief. She looked fine. Glowing even, and Harry did not know what to make of it. As sadistic as it sounded, he was expecting dry-stained tears and a birds’ nest of hair trampling her head. Instead, Y/N was dressed for comfort in her baggy jeans and an even looser sweater covering her body. Her lips were drawn in a thin line, giving him a nod in greeting as he gestured to the boxes littering the floor.
Harry offered to help--it was the least he could do. And somehow, silence protruded from the tense atmosphere, begging to be cut by a knife yielded through their voices nipping at each others’ emotions.
“Let go of my damn hand,” Y/N stated, her hard stare could turn Harry into stone. He just wanted her to listen before she left.
He shook his head in denial of her request, tightening his grip further. “No. Listen to me, Y/N,”
“What do you possibly have to say that will change anything between us?”
And maybe it was her fault for assuming that he wanted to fix things. The sliver of hope thinly dressed behind closed lids enabled her to think that maybe he was going to say that he wanted to make things work again. That he had broken up with Camille and he realized what a stupid he had done throwing away everything they built up to for the past four years for an affair that couldn’t quench the thirst of his desire to have a family.
Harry sighed, a shadow of mischievous smirk painted on his lips. But maybe it was Y/N’s sight in deception because she could never see Harry as anything other than sweet and kind Harry incapable of hurting a fly.
“What? I don’t intend to. We’re broken. We’re beyond fixing,”
The hitch in her breath was as sharp as the stare he was searing her with. Forcing her to please understand that this would be their last conversation--if time and fate were on their side. “You’re not something I would take the time to handle,”
“Stop saying shit you don’t mean, Harry” Y/N rolled her eyes in annoyance. His macho act was barely an act and more like a stage curtain easily pushed with a flick of a wrist.
“Things I don’t mean?”
“You heard me,” She crossed her arms over his chest in defence, leaning against the closed trunk. “Say what you will but our love was real. Don’t make me seem like I’m crazy. Don’t tell me that I’m a mistake,” Her voice was filled with confidence because she knew the affection that Harry diffused.
The cradles of his palm at the small of her back when they had to walk past a crowd. The subtle graze of the back of his fingers caressing the bare skin of her arm. Kisses pressed to her temple as she read a novel and swirling fingertips twirling her hair. These were acts of love that happened nearly every day in their relationship. A routine that felt different if it wasn’t done to or with each other.
Exasperatedly, Harry felt the same itching crawling up his spine. His ego ballooning into a delicate size and one more word from Y/N’s lush lips would have him on his hands and knees, begging for her back.
“This, us, was a fuckin’ mistake,” Harry’s accent thunked heavily in her cochlea, practically spitting the words out of his mouth as if they were poisonous. Ringed fingers gesticulated the space between them to emphasize how much of a misunderstanding they truly were. “I should’ve known the second things went further than planned,”
Y/N felt her heart drop to her full stomach. The feeling so nauseating that she instinctively palmed her belly over the fabric to protect her little baby from his harsh words. Even though they weren’t directed towards anyone but Y/N. She didn’t think that their unborn child deserved scrutiny from their own father.
“You don’t mean that, Harry.”
Because how could he? Not when he emulated sincerity through his syrupy voice. Not when he spent hours loving on her tummy and spoke to it like he would if she were pregnant. Especially not when every kiss from him felt like a buzz of electricity coursing through her veins because he was the main distributor of her happiness.
Harry truly was an asshole for making her hope and wonder of what the future held when he was unsure himself. He did want a family. That was a statement in all its truthfulness. What he wasn’t sure about was if he wanted a family with Y/N. He could have a family; kids of his own in his own time. But Y/N didn’t have to necessarily be the mother. So was he besotted with the concept of family and marriage regardless of who it was with?
“But I do,”
The rain started drizzling in frequent spurts, planting a fat droplet on her cheek that could be argued as a tear escaping Y/N’s eye. It hurt a lot to hear that from him. The man of her dreams blatantly denying each sugary word because his plans had changed.
“You’re a goddamn mistake is what you are,’
“Why are you. . .saying all these things to me? Are you trying to hurt me?” The shakiness of Y/N’s tone had Harry swallowing his words down his strep throat.
He shook his head in disagreement, “No, I’m not. ‘M just tryna make you see my side. So you can understand,” His head dipped to the side, softening his tone yet stern as though he was speaking to a child.
And that was one of the reasons why Y/N didn’t believe his all-too stoic demeanour about her. Harry was great at making others see his side regardless of how much in the wrong he was.
So why was he struggling?
___
Needless to say, he wasn’t very respectful towards Y/N any other time afterwards. He had unblocked her number months after blocking it at one point and demanded answers that he didn’t have the right to know. In retrospect, Harry was embarrassed by the way he acted. He did cheat on her and suddenly he was a saint because she moved on quicker than he thought she would? Unbelievable.
In his defence, the night he became the drunk caller was the same night he fought with Camille about having children; having a family they can call their own. Ever since that discussion did Harry notice a dispatch in their relationship. It was like they were aware of a missing link that had disappeared in their connection, but neither one of them wanted to be the one to bring it up. Harry supposed that now that Camille knew what he wanted (and vice versa)--she was feeling the pressure of giving in to him. Don’t get him wrong, Harry absolutely wanted a family and he thought that Camille was the right partner to build it with. However, he couldn’t help the voice at the back of his mind slyly whispering that he had forced her to give him what he wanted for the sake of saving their failing relationship.
It had been two and a half years since he mildly and miserably accepted that his dream family was being erased like a pencil on paper.
The first year; Harry still clung to the obscure hope that Camille might change her mind of having kids. Many fights sprouted between the two of them concluding in them sleeping at different places for weeks on end until they eventually crawled back to each other like an invisible string. The second-year; Harry brought up the idea of adoption. It was a hard choice for him as he desperately wanted kids of his own. A boy that looked like him and his love or a little girl that smiled at him with deep dimples mirroring his own.
And Harry liked to think that he was just on the edge of convincing Camille to consider the option when his tour was scheduled a few months after. A new dealbreaker was that Harry wasn’t going to be around much to watch and nurture the little bub they might’ve adopted. It was a sudden intrusion to think about since Harry was good with kids. He knew that. That was why he had three godchildren of his own. But what hit him the most was how sure Camille sounded when she yelled at him about leaving for months at a time and returning for a bit, only to leave again. Now, Harry hadn’t considered that part. But surely he will be ready to choose between a family and his career, right? When the time comes, he thought.
It pained Harry to admit that his relationship with Camille was dwindling down the drain. The knowledge that there was no future--the one that Harry envisioned--for them was getting more and more real each passing day.
A late-night grocery trip was one of the many examples that had Harry rethinking his actions for the past couple of years. It was the time period where night owls arose and barely any customers littered the aisles. Still, Harry made sure to keep his hoodie up to shield his face.
Camille had an early flight to Milan in just a few hours later that day and she wanted to purchase some things to bring with her; in case they weren’t available in the country. So here they were at three in the morning.
As Camille walked ahead of him in her sweatpants and a plain tee, Harry couldn’t help but let his eyes flicker to the clothing section to his right The first-floor space was decorated with pastel blues and pinks; a stroller was displayed with a price would not make a dent in Harry’s bank account.
“‘M just gonna grab somethin’ over here, Cam,” Harry muttered as he pointed a thumb behind him. She nodded, “Meet me at the produce? Need to get you some fruits,”
Harry felt guilt thudding his chest because although he was losing feelings he thought were written in stone, Camille appeared to care for him the same way she always had.
He walked to the brightly lit area, puffing his cheek as a cute onesie caught his eye, “You’re so golden” with the word ‘golden’ printed in a shiny, yellow glimmer. He smiled at the thought of baby angel cooing at him as he tickled her tummy. Harry passed by the shoes next, picking up a pair barely the size of his palm. His mind flashed back to a conversation with Y/N years ago,
“I’m just saying,” Y/N took a bite of a pickle she held on her left hand, “Baby shoes have no business being that expensive,”
Harry chuckled from his place across the counter, “Babies need shoes too, love,’
She grabbed her fork and stabbed a piece of strawberry from her bowl, “I didn’t say the don’t need shoes. For tiny things, they could at least be a bit cheaper,”
Harry watched as she munched on a pickle on her left and took a bite of a strawberry on the other. His tongue poked out in a gag at the odd combination, resorting in glare and a huff from Y/N.
“You should try it instead of judging me,’
“No, thank you. Watching you eat it is enough for me,’
Harry craned his head at each aisle, hoping to find Camille and to distract himself from the endless Y/N related thoughts that somehow returned to his brain. He needed his girlfriend to remind him that he cannot just knock on Y/N’s door and ask her about the baby she has. If he could hold them for a bit because his baby fever was through the roof.
Locating the produce section, Harry whistled mindlessly as he searched for a blonde head of hair, failing to notice that there was a basket in front of his feet. He had kicked it, jolting him out of his thoughts in a hurry.
A man with brown hair sporting an outfit similar to his (sweats and a hoodie), chuckled at him as Harry leaned down to retrieve the gray basket filled with a jar of pickles.
“Sorry man,” Harry muttered, holding the handles up for the man to carry.
“It’s alright, it happens,” The guy had not seen his face yet, too busy inspecting the carton of strawberries.
He decided to continue the conversation, “Strawberries and pickles? Odd combo, huh,” Harry was briefly reminded of Y/N’s obsession with the two rival products.
“Yeah, m’lady loves ‘em. Had a craving in the middle of the night. She’s in the car right now with our lil bubba,”
Harry’s heart fluttered at the mention of a baby. He needed to get his rails in check. He cannot keep having his heart bursting with adoration at the mere mention of a baby.
“I’m Connor,” He said, finally facing Harry after choosing the best carton.
“I'm--,”
“Harry!” Both men turned their heads towards Camille carrying a basket full fruits and green veggies, “Got you some stuff to blend for your smoothies,”
Connor squinted his eyes at the couple and Harry internally screamed because he knew that he and Camille had been recognized. “Harry. Yeah, I know you,” The sudden hostility made Harry confused as Connor grasped his basket from him in a harsh manner, heading towards the checkout.
The rest of the time inside the store was filled with curiosities as Harry carried the paper bags towards the car, barely recognizing Connor’s figure heading towards his own vehicle. Luckily, Harry has parked only a few slots away and could inconspicuously watch Connor and his so-called ‘lady’.
Except, Camille was ushering him to hurry up as she still had a few things to pack at home.
On most days, Harry was used to waking up alone. Used to feeling the shiver crawling up his side, used to seeing the indent left by Camille’s body instead of her. He had grown familiar with the sudden cast of loneliness blanketing him thicker than the duvet on top of his body.
The early morning trip to the store had tired him out, paired with the overthinking of the man named ‘Connor’ that flipped his attitude towards him quicker than he could kick the grey basket with his feet. He flopped back to the mattress after washing his face and brushing his teeth. It was noon when he jolted out of bed again at the sound of his front door opening, voices filling the empty space that had Harry running towards the foyer in case there was an intruder.
His tense shoulders sagged in relief when he caught sight of his mum and Gemma, “Oh, s’just you guys,”
Both women looked up at him at the top of the stairs, “You forgot we were coming over for the weekend, didn’t you?” Gemma teased as she headed to the living room. Harry followed, walking down the stairs.
He scratched the nape of his neck nervously, “No. . . “
“Can you help me reach this, H?” Anne called out from the kitchen.
His mum gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, “Yes, you did, by the way. Slept through the whole morning. Good thing Camille let us in before she left,”
At the sound of a bag crumpling and squeals echoing the hollow house, Harry scrunched his nose in curiosity, briskly walking where Gemm was currently holding up tiny baby clothes in front of her. “Who’s that for?” He thought of any possible friends that had had a baby recently but couldn’t recall any.
She immediately stuffed the clothing into the bag, nervously placing a hand on her chest, “Gosh, Harry, you scared me,” Her brows went high on her forehead in alarm, sharing a look with her mum trailing behind Harry.
“Well? Did I miss something?”
“Oh, it’s for one of my friends,”
Harry contemplated on his next words, “D-did you know that Y/N had a baby?” It couldn’t be right if his sister and mum knew about his exes baby and not him, right? That’s just plain odd to still be in touch with an ex's family. His brows furrowed in suspicion as both of them declined his question.
“What? Nooo,”
Awkward silence filtered through the air as Anne sipped water from her mug and Harry was slowly putting the pieces together. Gemme dove to the centre of the couch where her phone was when it rang suddenly, surprising all three of them. Harry was quicker, eyeing his mum and sister and inspecting the emoji substituting as a name before sliding his thumb to answer it.
"Hey, Gems! Are you coming to the park? We're waiting for you,”
Harry felt his heart drop to his stomach just as the phone nearly slipped from his clutch. That voice. He could recognize it from everywhere having spent nearly every morning for the four years that they were together hearing it lulling him out of sleep. It was Y/N’s voice calling his sister who was looking extremely anxious.
He tapped on the ‘mute’ button, “What does she mean ‘we’?”
“Nothing! Give me my phone back,” Gemma tried to reach for the device but Harry held it high beyond her reach.
“I saw the picture you sent me. I told you that you and Anne didn’t have to get me anything,” Harry felt dizzy. “Connor and I got some things a few weeks ago. But that skirt is so adorable!”
One part of him was glad to hear her voice. In fact, Harry found himself smiling too, despite what he just heard. Connor. “Harry, won’t be there right? Hello? Have I been talking to myself this whole time,” Y/N laughed a little; she had a habit of talking endlessly when she was excited. It made Harry more sombre, letting his guards down and his arm in reach for Gemma to grasp.
“Hey! I'm just organizing the clothes, see you soon!" Gemma jammed her finger on the red end call, anxiously glancing at her brother, piecing everything together.
“Who's Connor?" Could it be that the Connor he met last night was the same as Y/N’s? The one who bought pickles and strawberries--one of Y/N favourite food combinations? He mentioned that he had a little girl and Y/N just called to meet his sister and his mum at the park. And baby clothes?
Anne and Gemma looked at each other, quickly deciding that for the benefit of Harry that they should tell him at least a little bit. He was looking as if he was going insane, especially with his bed head pointing his hair out in different directions.
“He’s Y/N’s partner”
Harry gulped, reeling his thoughts to a halt, “Partner? And the baby is...?” The last bit of confirmation was all he needed to lash his feelings out.
“Is... waiting for us at the park! Sorry H gotta go,” Gemma was swift enough to gather all the bags without having Harry chase after her. His state of confusion and shock was enough to render him partially speechless and immobile.
“Hey wait!”
Anne garnered his attention, “Oh, Mrs. Q from next door wants me over for dinner. I’m sure wants to see us both. Why don’t you get ready, Harry?” Anne tugged his arm in the direction of the staircase pushing him to stumble up a couple of steps.
Harry was confused. He made the sounds of his footsteps creeping up the wooden stairs, hearing his mum quietly talking to Gemma on the phone, “Elmsway Park, you said? How long till you're home? I’m not sure how long I can keep him occupied,”
With that being said, Harry was out of his house, silently unlocking and locking the door. He was dressed in some basketball shorts and a graphic tee, slipping on the first pair of sneakers he had tossed aside. Harry jogged to his car, typing in the name of the park on his phones’ GPS. The route was only a few minutes away so he decided to take his time, gathering his scattered thoughts along the way.
He parked just beside the playground scouting the trees around the premises. Harry decided that it was the perfect day. The sun was out. It wasn’t too humid and the birds were chirping on the branches. He could see why the playground was full of children running around in delight. The green patches of grass were partially filled with picnic blankets and food to be shared. Families laughed with each other as one in particular caught his eye.
It made him smile at first, seeing just how adorable the couple was with their baby. He exited the car, making sure to lock the vehicle. With his hands jammed deep in the pockets of his shorts, Harry could feel the tethered grass rubbing against his legs. As he got closer, he couldn’t help the twinge of familiarity spark in his chest, recognizing that what he was staring at was Connor playfully chasing a little girl of about two-years-old as she squealed at how close he was getting to tagging her.
Harry stood by a tree, shielding him away from view. He tried to appear invisible without seeming too creepy. He knew that it was only a matter of seconds before his eyes found the woman he had been missing, whether he wanted to admit it or not.
Connor picked up the little girl in his arms, dotting pecks all over the girls’ cheeks, causing her to giggle and push his face away with a tiny palm. And there she was standing outside the raised platform of the playground, coming up to the both of them with a juice box in hand to hydrate the little angel. Connor turned his attention to Y/N, planting the most adoring kiss on her lips that made her smile so wide and the baby cover her eyes. They laughed together, looking like a picture-perfect family.
Gemma sat on the bench, flickering her gaze to the precious family in front of her and to the figure of her brother walking away from the scene. Her heart broke for Harry, and it cracked, even more, when he turned back. This time, watching Connor and Y/N cheer on baby angel to go down the slide. Both of them clapped their hands in enthusiasm as the girl hesitantly slid down the plastic slide. The smile on her face was infectious.
It almost made Harry smile, too.
Harry was crying.
Admitting his feelings when he was younger was quite a task for him. Now that he was nearly in his thirties, the journey of being vulnerable with himself and with his feelings became easier with each emotion that he permitted himself to submerge in. Harry validated those emotions--he was allowed to experience them because it makes him human. It added texture to the ever-growing mosaic that painted who he was as an individual. Adding to the people that surrounded him, influenced by their kind-nature and the goodness of their heart to become who he was now.
And now, it seemed like his emotions increased tenfold. The clench of his abdomen and the harsh jolt of his chest forced his slouched shoulder to stay deflated. His breathing hitched as sobs threatened to take over, throat sore with the effort to keep it all in because Harry was smart enough to know that these emotions coursing through him right now were ones he wasn’t validated to feel. Paired with the latest information that that little girl being held by another man was his own daughter--and that the woman who was glowing with her caring, motherly-instincts was supposed to be his family; it broke him completely.
Quaking thoughts circled his brain and punctured his muscles as if they were attacking him not only mentally, but physically as well in exchange for his past mistakes that he couldn’t quite place if he deeply regretted or not. Was it a mistake to cheat on Y/N? To leave her alone in the exposure of the public eye while she was carrying his child in her tummy?
Harry should have known the day she fell sick and vomited in their kitchen sink. He was, sadly, too busy throwing a subdued celebration of finally having time alone with Camille. He should have noticed the way her face brightened with radiance. Or the way her cravings for strawberries and pickles either grossed her out or completely compelled her to consume more than she usually would.
But Harry guessed that that was around the time his efforts went out the window because he didn’t have to pretend to care as much anymore. Camille appeared to be his one and only. With their relationship coming so close to being revealed and Y/N having one foot out the door, Harry let fate play out the rest. Don’t get him wrong, Harry still loved Camille; that was why his slashed heart still throbbed at the sight of her watching over her little cousin, yet knowing that the topic of children was still not a card on the table.
The distress that he was feeling right now was core-shredding, heartbreaking grief that left a hole in his heart. The worst part was that Harry didn’t exactly know how to fix it or whether he even could. As he walked to his car with hands jammed into his pockets, he was grateful that the hood of his sweater hid his face and the tears sliding down the slope of his cheeks.
His senses were in overdrive, figuring out how to fix the mess he created. Wanting to run up to Y/N and ask her why she didn’t tell him, needing to feel his little girl in his arms. Pinching his skin to transfer the pain he felt in his heart because of the thought that he missed his baby’s first words, her first steps. Was it ‘dada’ that babbled out of her mouth? Did she reach out for Connor when she stumbled over nothing when she walked on stubby legs? Did Y/N mention his name to her?
“Harry!”
He kept on walking despite the hushed call of his name, assuming that it was a fan that caught sight of him and wanted a picture. Harry adores them, but now is hardly the time to fake a smile or act like his life didn’t just flash right before his eyes--quite literally.
The vehicle beeped as Harry pressed the ‘unlock’ button on his key fob, just about ready to pull the door open and shield himself from prying eyes. He flinched when a hand fell on his shoulder, “Harry,”
He looked up to find Gemma panting, resting her hand on the roof of the car, “Are you. . .alright?” Her drifting eyes inspected his face, tinted a slight pink and moist with the salty liquid dripping from his tear ducts.
Huffing in annoyance, Harry clutched the handle to let himself in. Gemma followed his actions, shutting the door and locking it. The tinted windows of the car provided a semi-private enclosure that was filled with Harry’s sniffling and Gemma’s heavy breathing, trying to catch her breath.
“H-her name is Halo,” Gemma began, gulping when Harry paused his ministrations, straining his ears to listen despite the dull thud occupying his vessels. “She’s almost two years old,”
“You said you didn’t know,” Harry’s gruff tone echoed. Gemma anxiously rubbed the ends of her palms against her jeans. “Why didn’t you tell me? You knew all this time and y’didn’t tell me,”
“I-I was--she didn’t want me--”
“Why would she tell you and not me? I’m the one that dated her,” He raised his voice with every syllable he spoke. The frustration he felt from seeing the woman he once loved living the reality they shared together, except he wasn’t anywhere in the picture and that reality was only a fantasy in his life now. “It doesn’t make sense,” He rested his forearms on the wheel, facing the car’s symbol.
“The baby is yours, Harry,”
His head quipped with speed, grazing his forehead on the rounded leather but that pain didn’t amount to the new wave washing over him. “W-what?”
“It’s really not my place to tell,” Gemma said nervously, making eye contact with Harry’s searing yet teary gaze. “She wanted to tell you but you were so happy with Camille. She was posting these things on her Instagram about your trips and Y/N called me crying because you looked so free and happy without her. Y/N didn’t want to ruin what you guys had by dropping this on you,”
"That's-that's my baby?" Harry stuttered over his words while tugging his head out of his memories. Gemma nodded in confirmation. “Then why in the world was she--Halo?--calling him ‘dada’?
“Look, Harry, you’re not stupid. You know why Halo called Connor her dad,” Gemma spoke slowly, “This is a conversation that you need to have with Y/N if she lets you,”
At the mention of the man’s name, Harry couldn’t help but be filled with anger. He barely knew this man yet he received everything that Harry wanted in life. ‘But she’s my kid. I’m her dad. I’m the one who’s supposed to give her kisses and make her laugh,” He mumbled quietly as if his inner thoughts were far too strong to be kept in his mind
He was staring mindlessly at the numbers on his dashboard, hands gripping the leather steering wheel to try and ground himself. "But if that's my baby, how can she call someone who's not her father, dad?" He whipped his head towards Gemma, searching for validation that would make him feel better but the siblings were aware that he lost that title three years ago.
“I think you know you lost that place in their lives,” She reached a comforting hand to pat his arm, feeling just how tense he was under the fabric.
Harry shrugged her off, pinching his brows and pursing his lips as sadness began to swirl down the drain only to be replaced with resentment, irritation and bitterness. The taste on his tongue was hot with anger and his ears felt warm as he wheezed air instead of opting to yell his dissatisfaction near his sister.
“This isn't fair. She's m’baby too. Connor is not her father,” He spat with venom, “I am,” A pointed finger poked his chest. "She knew she was pregnant when she left me. She’s so fuckin’ selfish. How could she do this to me?
Gemma was quick to remind him of his actions, "You cheated on her, Harry.” Gemma cowered back at Harry’s beady eyes glaring at her with an unreadable emotion, stone-cold. “Maybe you should go home. Calm down a little bit,”
“No!” Harry cut Gemma off, “Need t’a hear her say it myself,”
Harry didn’t know what his plan was when he harshly slammed the car door behind him, practically storming on the patches of grass like a mad man. It wasn’t hard to spot the picture-perfect family sitting on a park bench which brought a scowl to his shielded face. He wanted to give Y/N a piece of his mind and it wasn’t necessarily the nicest thoughts that crossed his brain.
Halo was sitting on Connor’s lap while he was feeding her a peeled cupcake. Red velvet with cream cheese frosting--Harry felt like he was punched in the gut. The baked good was Y/N’s specialty and it had a lot of sentimental value to both of them. It was what she baked for their first year together. He could vividly see her frosting-dotted nose, aiming to splotch the cream on his cheek while she laughed. Harry wrapped his arms around her, hugging Y/N from behind and proceeding to kiss her sweet cheek, leaving the perfect opportunity to stain his skin with the frosting.
But he didn’t care if he was smashed headfirst into the cake (as long as it wasn’t ice cream cake)--Harry just wanted to see her smile and hear her laugh heartily.
Y/N was snuggled on Connor’s shoulder, fixing Halo’s hair as she made grabby hands at the confection. He cannot lie--Connor was a handsome man. Harry rarely felt intimidated or insecure, but seeing that this man managed to snatch everything Harry could ever want seemingly in a blink of an eye; Harry felt very jealous.
He pouted, eyes rimmed red and lips quivering wishing that Cory or Connor--whatever that little shit’s name was would disappear so that Harry could take his place instead. Actually, it was his spot in the first place. Only if he didn’t mess up, he thought. He missed Y/N so much! Seeing Y/N in her element of niceness and bright-gleaming smiles sent a truck full of sand down his throat as he gulped his emotion below the surface. The closer he got to them, his vision tunnelled towards Halo; brown, flouncy curls and a cute dimple embedded in her cheek as she giggled, accidentally knocking the cupcake on the ground.
If that wasn’t symbolism staring at Harry straight in the face; a sign that their so-called relationship really had no chance of reprieve. Harry chose to ignore it.
Connor clutched Halo tightly against him, crouching down with a napkin to clean up the scattered cake on the ground. Y/N was the first to notice him, her forehead creasing as her eyes bulged at the sight of Harry walking towards them. She subtly poked at Connor’s arm, hurting Harry even more because it meant that Y/N felt uncomfortable with his presence.
He was close enough to read her pink lips, “We should go,” matched with Y/N’s frantic actions of packing the juice boxes and the Tupperware of cupcakes into the tote bag beside her. Connor searched the park until his gaze landed on Harry, protectively shielding Halo from him.
Is he serious? Harry thought. That’s my own daughter.
Speaking of Halo, the two-year-old happily continued munching on her new cupcake, frowning slightly when Connor stood up, “Why we leaving, Daddy? Did I do somethin’ bad?”
Y/N sighed, they promised that Halo could play at the park all day and now it was cut short because of a certain someone.
“No, you didn’t, bub. Let Daddy explain at home, okay baby?” Connor hitched Halo higher on his hip, hoping that she wouldn’t ask any more questions until the trio left.
“Who’s that?” Halo asked, pointing at Harry only metres away from them. Her stubby finger outstretched at the stranger in front of her, eyes bright and sparkling with curiosity. There was no sign of recognition painting her green orbs.
Harry gulped, wanting so badly to scream “I’m your dad!” but he knew that Y/N will add that to the list of his mistakes he had made.
“No one, angel,” Connor planted a kiss on her head, looking over at Y/N who had finished packing everything up. He tilted his chin in an attempt to scare Harry off.
But the thing was, Harry was already scared. He could feel his stomach in his throat but vomiting wasn’t the right word to describe it. His heart drooped deeper than the levels of the Earth. He was scared because his family was right in front of him but he couldn’t touch them or hug them in his arms. He was only allowed to look from the outside because there was a small possibility of being forgiven.
“Y/N. . .” Harry began hesitantly. The surge of confidence he had decreased with each passing second. He kept a close eye.
Y/N shrugged the strap on her shoulder, “Leave us alone, Harry.”
He felt his anger disappearing, a new emotion cascading his tear ducts and the blood in his veins. Harry looked back in retrospect; she really did mean it when Y/N said that she never wanted him around again. “I just want to talk. Please, let’s talk,”
“She doesn’t want to talk to you, Harry,” Connor interrupted, grabbing the bag from Y/N and wrapping an arm over her shoulder, guiding them away from Harry. “She’s happy without you, mate. can’t you see?”
Harry kept his gaze trained on Y/N’s face, actively avoiding eye contact but drifted when Halo’s frown caught his stare. The little girl’s chin was hooked over Connor’s shoulder, squirming in his arms in an attempt to stop him from walking. Halo was smart enough to know that Harry’s expression screamed sadness and her mummy said that “you need to find a way to make them happy” if someone was sad.
“Wait!” Her shrill yell caused both Connor and Y/N to turn around. A piece of Harry’s heart shattered on the floor when Halo pulled Connor down by the nape of his neck, small hand leading his ear next to her lips. Then, she did the same to Y/N, pointing at Harry which caused him to straighten his stance, wanting to impress his daughter even though there was no point.
The couple shared a look before ultimately having Connor walk closer to Harry. Halo gripped her cupcake towards him, “‘ere y’go hawwy,’ She still couldn’t pronounce her ‘r’s’ yet.
Harry began to sob.
It was his daughter and those were the first words she had uttered to him. She didn’t know him yet Halo treated him with kindness and it ripped at his chest because Y/N must’ve taught her that. His palms became wet as tears streamed from his eyes, dampening the sleeves of his hoodie. He didn't care about looking foolish in front of them, not when his daughter saw him as a stranger and called Connor her ‘dada’.
Halo recoiled at the sudden reaction, her lips curving downwards, “Dada, mama, he’s cwyin’,” She tucked her face at the junction of Connor’s shoulder and neck, scared that she made him cry. Halo didn’t mean to make him cry. She felt so guilty that she started spilling tears of her own too, her face contorting into a scrunched expression as her mouth wailed open sobs, matching Harry’s.
Harry’s first instinct was to take a step forward and comfort Halo but he was rendered frozen when Connor shot him a glare, shifting Halo’s body out of reach and he could only see her face over the man’s shoulder. Y/N dimmed her eyes, brows pinching when she couldn’t help but let a smidge of sympathy wash over her. She muttered a few words to Connor, pushing him by the small of his back towards the parking lot.
When they were out of earshot, Y/N faced Harry, “What were you thinking? Are you trying to mess everything up again?” He tried to cut in, “Isn’t it bad enough that we’re talking about this in public? Why must you ruin everything, Harry?” She whisper-shouted, trying her best not to garner them any attention.
“N-no, Gemma told me and I jus’ wanted to see her--and you. Wanted to hear the truth come out of your mouth,” His large hands jammed into his pockets to prevent him from fiddling with them.
“Look, you have no right coming here,”
“I know that b-but I--,”
She held a palm up, “I’m not sadistic like you Harry. If you thought that I wouldn’t let you around her then you’re wrong. As much as I hate to admit it, I do miss you and I wish that you were there for us when we needed you,”
“I had no idea--,”
“Will you let me speak?” Her tone carried irritation. “But we’re alright now and we don’t need you anymore.”
Harry never thought that those statements would ever come out of Y/N’s mouth. “Don’t you think I deserve to get to know her?”
She sighed, “Deserve? Definitely not.” He nodded in agreement. “But I’d live in regret if Halo never got to know her real father. . .”
Harry’s expression lit up, hopeful eyes shooting glances at her, “D-does that mea--? Are you--?”
“You can see her. You can get to know her but only because you’re Halo’s father,” Y/N took a brave step forward, ignoring the way her heart throbbed as if she was being stabbed by a thousand knives. Painful memories drifted in and out of her train of thought until she shook her head to muster them out. It was in the past but she could never forget the feeling of hopelessness taking over her whole body.
With a hand on his shoulder, she continued, “Anyone can be a father and you’re just that. Don’t think that you’re entitled to anything more. You will never be her dad. Connor is. Understood?”
Harry took a deep breath and swallowed a heavy gulp, “I. . .understand. Thank you, Y/N. For letting me back in when I don’t deserve it,” He glanced at the two tiny figures piling in the car. He could just imagine himself plucking little Halo into her booster seat, booping her nose as she asked for the hundredth time why she had to sit at the back and not at the front with them.
“I’m not finished,” She deadpanned, “You are going to be there for her. Not for me, not for us because our relationship is over. You can hurt me as you did before and I can accept it but don’t you dare try to hurt her,”
And it was true. Having endured his painful game once before, Y/N was stronger now. She could take heartbreak as agonizing as that but she wouldn’t dare stand seeing Halo’s teary eyes staring back at her, asking why Harry had left them. She was far too young to experience the feeling when a piece of herself is ripped apart.
“I won’t hurt her. I promise,”
“I heard those words come out from your mouth years ago and look where we are now. Once you hurt her, it’s over.”
“Y/N, t-that’s hardly fair. I am her dad, aren’t I?” Harry cleared his throat at Y/N’s raised brow.
“No, you’re not. We just went through this, Harry.”
“Don’t call me that,” He muttered quietly because she only ever called him ‘baby’ or ‘h’.
“Will you stop? I laid out my cards. If you want to even have a speck of presence in her life, then you have to abide by what I said,” She crossed her arms in defence, “You will never be Halo’s dad, Harry. Connor is her dad. I don’t know how many more times I have to repeat this before it gets through you thick head,”
He opened his mouth to talk, “No wiggle room whatsoever?”
“No. Do I have to write a letter for you to understand that?”
In a moment of hurt and despair, Harry spat out, “Might as well, yeah? Waited over two years to tell me anyway,”
“Are you kidding me?”
His throat ran dry, realizing that he just ticked another box to favour against being a part of his daughter’s life, “I-I’m sorry. I didn't mean to,”
“Whatever. Are you willing to make the sacrifice?”
“This isn’t the place to talk about this,” Harry suggested, wanting to have some sort of foot on the ground so he doesn’t feel like he’s topping over with guilt and sadness. “Maybe you can come over to my house,”
Y/N shook her head, glancing briefly at her phone when it buzzed, “No. I will not step foot in that house again. If you really want to discuss it, you can come over at our place,”
“Your place?” Did they all live together? Well, that was another slap to the face. Not only was Connor playing dad to Halo, but he was also part of the household. Harry’s face must have contorted into a grimace because Y/N sighed softly.
“Yes, our place. Meaning all three of us,” She gestured behind her. “I have to go. You can probably get my number from Gemma; you can text me then.”
“Yes, yes! Of course, I want to talk to you. . . about this, I mean,” Harry lowered his enthusiasm. The small voice in his head reverberating that this was not about him and Y/N; this was about Halo.
“And make sure you don’t bring anyone else,” Y/N said sarcastically, subtly pointing in the direction of the paparazzi hiding behind some bushes. Harry was usually good at spotting them but today was just a puddle of hurt and confusion. “I don’t want her having to read nasty things like I did,”
What Y/N said may have been a side comment, but Harry couldn’t help but take it to heart. Was this a good idea? Sure, he wanted to be a present dad in Halo’s life. However, is it worth it to stir unwanted drama? If only he didn’t cheat on Y/N, all of this could have been avoided.
With his mind in a haze, Harry barely noticed Y/N’s figure moving away from him. He jogged to catch up with her, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. Harry felt numb to the way she shrugged her touch off of her immediately, “Were you ever going to tell me about our daughter?’
Y/N stared at him quizzically, tilting her head a little bit sideways, “I thought I did? Wait!” A look of recognition plastered across her features, “I did try to tell you but you blocked me before the message sent through,”
Harry gulped with realization. He blearily remembered bitterly blocking her number just as she texted “I need to tell you something,”
Y/N: Since you’re not picking up my calls
I need to tell you something
Y/N took a deep breath as her thumbs tapped on the letters slowly as if to withhold the news from him. She was not at all ready to reveal that she was pregnant and that he was the father but Y/N knew that it was the right thing to do. Despite the fact that he was currently out of the country on vacation somewhere on an island with sandy beaches with Camille. Y/N was aware that this spike of courage was rare and so, she had to do it now.
Y/N: I’m pregnant
And you’re the father
She locked the device as soon as she pressed the arrow to send the message, clutching the phone close to her chest and shutting her eyes so tightly that it hurt. Minutes passed with no response and Y/N was shouldered by curiosity to check if he had sent anything back or simply left her on ‘seen’.
It was neither. The screaming red exclamation mark surrounded by a circle indicated that she had been blocked.
The times when she left missed calls on his phone were for a reason much bigger than the two of them. Y/N didn’t call to beg for him back or to ask Harry to want her again. He was ashamed to admit that he had rolled his eyes upwards every time he clicked on a voicemail she had left, stating, “Hey H, it’s me. Call me back when you hear this. I need to talk to you,” which he deleted without a second thought. She didn’t text him endlessly to politely ask for her things packed and settled for her pick-up because Y/N could not bear to spend another second in a room with him.
It wasn’t that at all.
Y/N was physically moving farther and farther away from him, settling herself into the car before driving off to hers and Connor’s shared house. Halo sat in the backseat, singing along to the radio.
Harry was surrounded amidst the joyful squeals of children and reprimanding voices of their parents.
He stood alone with no one but loneliness by his side and the brisk flash of cameras in his peripherals.
Harry felt out of place.
As a world-renowned pop star, he was used to being paid a different kind of attention in most of the places he went to. He should be used to it. Harry had to take measures in order not to get recognized for stepping into a local coffee shop. Even in hot weather, his recognizable tattoos gave easy access for fans to whisper amongst each other, wondering if it was the right time to ask for a photo or merely share a conversation with him.
His voice--the thing that made him as famous as he is now--was tinted into his fans’ heads. Recognition blaring in their ears when the deep, gruff tone projected the open air. It would be quite disturbing if he had to change the pitch for everyday errands. Harry would rather feel out of place than go to extremes to change who he was.
This lifestyle was something that he was used to, having been under the scrutiny of the public eye for a little over a decade now. But Harry knew that Y/N was a small, town girl practically bickered and poked until she was forced to cough something out to taint Harry’s name in vain. From the way, he preferred sniffing his nose into a hanky instead of a Kleenex. The way he snored loudly when his nostrils felt dry. The way his hair isn’t as naturally curly as it appears to be. All of these things were the borderline crossing of his privacy that she could’ve taken to the press, urging in many articles written about his odd habits or preferences.
Not that he thought Y/N was that type of person to spill secrets in the midst of desperation, but Harry had cheated on her for God’s sake. If she did run her mouth, Harry wouldn’t blame her. He was horrible to her; cheated on her for a year, not even bothering to tell Y/N that his affection was teetering in favour of not hurting her and wanting to keep his side relationship a secret for a taste of adrenaline that came with his less-than boring life.
Harry left her alone while she was going through a life-changing period of her life. To be fair, Y/N didn’t actually tell him. She tried, but the message never reached his cognition. Harry wanted to save his salvation by choosing to believe that it was her fault for not visiting him in person to tell him the news.
Really though, how could Harry possibly know about her pregnancy if she didn’t make the effort to inform him of his own child. It wasn’t like he was supposed to check in on her, his ex-girlfriend, right? That was unheard of. And frankly, Harry thought that the day everything blew up--when she read the letter meant for Camille; Y/N made it very clear that she did not want to speak to him again. So really, Harry was just respecting her wishes.
Y/N was supposed to be the one feeling out of place; not Harry. If only she had told him when she identified the symptoms of pregnancy, he could have helped out. Harry wasn’t sure if he would have left Camille to begin a family with Y/N (if she took him back) or if he was only a parent of support. One that was there for the sake of raising a child but not sharing the means and affection to build a relationship with Y/N.
These were Harry’s thoughts as he sat with the family of three. In between Y/N and Connor as they sat on opposite ends of the round table with baby Halo in her high chair and Harry across from her. Halo was staring at him with wonder and curiosity; a shy type of look that tinted her cheeks a tad rosy and her lashes to peer at the man adjacent to her, wondering why he was joining them in their family dinner.
Harry felt out of place.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Connor asked, feeding the child a spoonful of peas. “Not usually like this,” She shook her head, tucking her arms together and pursing her lips inwards in a sign of rejection.
Halo looked at Y/N who was giving her a soft smile, then to Harry. “She’s not usually like this. She must be shy that you’re here tonight, Harry,” Y/N explained, a tone of indifference that she tried to mask to help Halo feel a little more comfortable.
Harry gulped heavily. His child was uncomfortable because of him. He almost felt guilty for wanting to scoop her up and canoodle Halo in his arms. Harry still hadn’t had the chance to do that.
When the door opened earlier this evening, Harry was met by Y/N’s furrowed brows, firmly reminding him that this dinner was for him to be slowly introduced into Halo’s life. Harry would get the chance to care for her by helping the child with her nighttime routine. That included brushing her teeth, tucking her in, a bedtime story and possibly a kiss on the forehead.
Harry was giddy, to say the least. Harry was confident with kids and could easily mould into what they needed. If they wanted him to pretend to be a car while they jumped on his back as they grasped onto his curls to steer him, he would. If Harry was instructed to be a pretty princess with a plastic tiara on his head, he would exaggeratedly lift a pinky up to play the part. It was easy for him to win the hearts of his little nieces and nephews because they were familiar with him. They knew him as ‘Uncle Harry’ who gave them gifts whenever he came over to visit or if there was a large family reunion.
He couldn’t exactly do that with Halo. She was familiar with him, yes. However, the one time they interacted, Harry had made her cry. It didn’t sit right with him that tears sprung from her corneas when she was only trying to make him feel better, sensing that her parents wanted nothing to do with him.
It wasn’t like Harry knew what she liked either. Did Halo like playing with dolls? Animals? Race cars? The most basic of things, Harry didn’t know. What was her favourite colour? When was her birthday? His resumé was already tarnished since he wasn’t present when her mother fell pregnant. Then, he missed her first steps, her first words. He was just a stranger to her.
And it showed from the way he stepped foot into the kitchen.
Harry heard her before he saw her. Tiny squeals and giggles fell from her mouth as Connor chased her around with plates grasped in his hands. Y/N had scolded the man for getting distracted instead of setting the table. Halo’s noises quieting down when she caught sight of the familiar yet unfamiliar man loitering the doorway.
“‘M sorry, love. Halo wanted to play,” Connor gripped her waist to pull Y/N closer to him, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she fought off a smile from splintering her face. “Right, cutie?”
“Wanted to play! Sowwy mama,’ Halo apologized, tugging on her pant leg.
That was when Harry realized the possibility of ruining the little family they had in the words. But this was supposed to be his in the first place so he couldn’t care less if he wrecked it. As selfish as it may be, Harry thought that there was meaning in him accidentally hearing Gemma’s conversation with Y/N. Sure, it was bound to happen, but it couldn’t have come at a better time. The hole in his heart caused by Camille’s confession of not wanting kids was growing each day, accentuated by the late-night trip to the grocery store and seeing the small baby clothes that took up half of his palm.
It was a sign, right? He felt like he was drowning in a relationship that had no future and the next day, he was met with Y/N and their baby.
Symbolism. As a writer, it was absolutely crucial to introduce some sort of word, item, place, or person and infuse it with impeccable meaning. Irrefutable to the point that that noun is and will be what the writer makes of it.
Round tables were supposed to be better at sprouting conversations than rectangular or square tables. Any conversation between a pair must be shared with everybody who sat around it. There was no room to quietly snicker or ration secrets. Yet somehow that theory was not working. At all.
Harry felt like an intruder sitting in a table that never held more than three people because it was always just them: Y/N, Connor and Halo. As the child got more comfortable with his presence, she slowly started babbling incoherent and coherent words alike, conversing with her ‘parents’ as they asked her about her day at daycare. Y/N asked about Connor’s day at work and the latter reciprocated the question which she was currently answering.
“It wasn’t as busy as I thought,” Y/N shrugged her shoulders, forking a piece of mash. Connor made a sound of recognition, “S’that why you texted me to go home instead?”
Y/N nodded, helping Halo scoop her own forkful of mash, “Yep, I had time to go to the store. I know that you were swarmed at work,” The couple allotted a loving glance towards each other.
Harry’s heart was cracking. He was witnessing what he could have had and He had a front-row seat to it. Was it jealousy? Maybe. He was in a relationship so he shouldn’t feel like swarming Y/N’s smaller frame in his arms, shielding her and baby Halo away from Connor. But he did.
“What about you, Harry?” Connor questioned him with a kink to his brow. Harry could tell that the question wasn’t sincere, purely out of consideration.
In a surprise, Harry coughed a little, reaching out to his cloth to dab the corners of his mouth. Truth to be told, Harry spent the day in a state of anxiety. From the moment he woke up, Harry could feel his chest expanding with nervousness, heart beating loudly and pounding in his ears. He picked at the skin of his lip in the wonder of what he was going to wear. If he should wear cologne or if it will irritate Halo’s senses. He spent the better half of the morning browsing online for toys he could get in a hurry to give to Halo.
Harry contemplated cancelling the dinner because of the uneasy feeling boiling in his stomach. Heightened senses and pinched nerves convinced Harry that he could feel the muscles of his esophagus contracted as he swallowed. Lungs punctured with the tip of the pen he was using to scrawl a list of ideas to build a bond with his daughter
“It was alright,” Harry said warily, “Didn’t really have anythin’ to do today except come here,”
Y/N pulled her head back in surprise, “Sorry, we ruined your day off,”
His eyes widened immediately. Harry’s usual aura of confidence nowhere to be seen, “N-no, no. I didn’t mean it like that,” He could feel stray curls hitting his cheekbones lightly. “I jus’-- it’s m’break so I haven’t got anything for the next couple of months,”
___
Harry’s settled nerves were awoken when it was time to clean up. Y/N insisted on doing the dishes with Connor while Harry bonded with Halo.
“Remember, you’re doing this for her,” Y/N whispered in his ear, causing shivers to crawl up his spine, “Don’t be nervous, Harry. She’s going to love you,” She added, seeing the way he blinked warily at Halo and Connor. Even going as far as giving him a comforting smile.
“Thank you, Y/N--for giving me this,” She nodded in response, jutting her chin downwards.
“Hawwy? Mama said you gonna help me get to bed?” Halo’s green eyes still shone despite the dim kitchen lighting, reminding Harry that this was his and Y/N’s creation. Throughout the dinner, the child had somehow warmed up to Harry’s presence. With a promise of an ice cream trip after her nursery classes earlier in the morning, Halo was quick to befriend the man who she pointed out: ‘has the same dimple as me!’--while poking a stubby finger to her plush cheek, grinning to showcase it.
Harry could feel his heart thud, crouching down to her level, worried of her straining her neck looking up at his tall stature. “Tha’s right. Wanna show me where the bathroom is?” She nodded, grabbing Harry’s index finger to drag him along, exerting his lumbar to keep his height low. He could feel Halo’s feet stumbling, keeping her balance by tightening her grip on Harry.
Their time in the bathroom was fairly short. Halo had learned to brush her teeth by herself. She only needed Harry to guide her up the stool so that she could reach the sink, spitting the foam from her mouth when Harry made a funny face in the mirror, giggling loudly that had Harry’s chest feeling light.
As they walked through the hallway, Harry couldn’t help but let his ears be numb to Halo’s babbling about her favourite stuffed toy. He didn’t mean to. Instead, his neck craned to the door left agape, assuming that it was Connor and Y/N’s with the way the Gucci shoes that Harry had bought her were neatly placed at the bottom of the foot of the bed. He stared down at his moving feet, mood souring despite the bright colours of his loafers imprinted in a little rainbow--the same ones that he just caught sight off and wavered just as quickly.
“You like it?”
He snapped out of his thoughts when Halo climbed on her tiny bed, clutching her favourite stuffed toy. Harry plastered a beaming grin on his face, inspecting the painted room, the small desk pushed against the wall and the numerous artworks taped to almost every surface.
One, in particular, had his heart aching more so than it already was.
It was a hand-drawn stick figure portrait of Y/N, Halo, and Connor. Harry couldn’t even pretend that the skinny, stretched black marker was him because the child messily penned Connor’s name underneath. The figures were holding each others’ hands, oblong faces paired with a curved mouth shaped upwards. It didn’t help that the title at the top was “My Famli” which was crossed over with a red marker and re-titled underneath as “My Family” in neat handwriting that Harry could recognize as Y/N’s.
“Hawwy?” She repeated, wondering why he was staring so hard at the drawing taped on her bedside table. Her brows furrowed when a drop of tear fell from his eye and landed on Connor’s head, smudging the ink and making it blurry disarray as Halo gasped. “Oh no!”
“‘M s-sorry, Halo,” Harry’s tongue felt too thick in his mouth, sobbing threatening to escape but he remembered how that would make his daughter feel. Halo placed her soft hand on top of his.
“It’s okay, Hawwy. I can do it again,” Her timid voice made his heart flutter. Halo didn’t want Harry to cry again and it looked like he was about to so she scurried in planting her shaky legs on the floor. A blank paper was already stable on her desk, grabbing a marker to draw the ruined project again. She could see Harry’s shadow towering over her, thanks to the light projected by her lamp.
Flipping the paper over, Halo giggled, “Go away! Y’cant see it till it’s done,” She used her force to push him backwards which wasn’t a lot so Harry walked backwards until the back of his calves hit her bed frame. “Stay there and play with Honey,”
As she got back to work, Harry searched for ‘Honey’, finding an oatmeal coloured bear with a pot of honey clutched between its threaded paws. He stared at the plush toy for what felt like forever, wondering how special this must be to her. And how Harry wasn’t the one to have given it to her.
“Done!” Halo’s timidness returned, hiding the paper behind her back yet Harry heard the slight crumple.
Placing the stuffed toy on the bed, he asked, “Are y’gonna show me?”
She handed the artwork to Harry while he watched, smiling softly. Halo slapped her palms on her cheeks when Harry turned it over, his breath hitching when he saw the extra figure that she had drawn.
Harry. With a head of wild curls and dotted green eyes that appeared more black with the lighting.
He couldn’t help it when happy tears seared his waterline which Halo mistook for complacence. “You don’t. . .like it Hawwy?”
“I-I do. I love it, honey,” Harry admitted, chuckling slightly as he patted his upper thigh. She climbed onto the bed with him, the wood creaking beneath Harry’s weight. Halo clumsily climbed on his lap, lifting his heavy forearm so she could sneak between his legs.
Harry could feel his nonexistent double chin crowding his neck as he looked down at Halo who was cuddled to his chest, lips turned into a pout, looking at her quick-minute work. “I like it cause you’re there,” She pointed at the ice cream in Harry’s hand before yawning loudly.
“You’re sleepy, baby Halo?’
She nodded, pressing a small hand on his chest. Harry took the initiative to lay the child down on her pillow despite every nerve in his body urging him to stay in that position. But Harry figured that he had probably overstayed his welcome for the night.
Harry pressed a passionate kiss to her forehead, caressing her head gently. Sleep eyes stared at him as he pulled her fleece blanket to her chin. “Stay?” She questioned, fists crumpling to clutched the end of the fabric.
“I can’t, bub,” He informed with regret, shaking his head sadly and his mouth curved downwards. His knee was sore with weight pressed on his knee cap and his lumbar was aching with how he crouched down one too many times this evening, but all pain seemed to disappear when Halo picked up Honey the Teddy Bear from beside her and gave it to Harry. “For me? Thank you,”
Halo laid back down on her bed, “Mhm,”
“Why?”
As a two-year-old, Halo could only say so many words, yet her thoughts went far deeper than her brain could comprehend. That she felt a profound attachment to Harry despite seeing him twice. How pleasant it was to spend even just a small amount of time with him. Harry was nice and gave her forehead kisses and rubbed her head that placed a smile on her face. He cried because he loved her artwork and he apologized when he did something wrong. He contorted his lips into a silly face to make her laugh. He was going to be picking her up from school and Harry said he was going to buy her ice cream tomorrow!
“I dunno,” Halo shrugged, peering downwards to avoid eye contact. Harry chuckled heartily, puckering his pink lips to another peck on her forehead, and then both of her cheeks.
Harry tried to see the brighter side of the situation because it truly was something to look forward to. Having the chance to get to know Halo was something that he should be grateful for. As Y/N said, Harry did not deserve to be a part of her life, despite the fact that he was the father. And somewhere, somehow— he understood where she was coming from.
Harry honestly wouldn’t know what he would do if the roles were reversed; if Y/N were the ones to have been cheating on him. He would not have a clue if Harry would be as kind to her as she was with him. If an outsider were to assess the situation between Harry and Y/N, they would definitely choose her side to be in favour of. So far, Harry still wasn’t able to pinpoint what exactly Y/N had done wrong for him to be swayed by an illicit affair. Was there even a moment in time that he could vividly see where he made the decision to just up and betrayed her trust? Because if there was; either his memory has gone to shit or Harry was more of a jerk than he served himself.
To put things into perspective, Y/N was the perfect partner and Harry had somehow lost sight of that by cheating on her. Don’t get him wrong; Camille was good, great, even. Yet Y/N was an amazing woman who knew exactly what she wanted. Coincidentally, those were the same type of things that Harry needed, too. As much as it pained him to say it, Camille’s rejection of their own little family made him rethink his decision-making process. Harry has learned more about himself in these past few months than he did in his entire lifetime.
For starters, he cleared it up that he had absolutely no excuse for cheating on Y/N except the fact that his retention span lasted a good few years before he was in search of something fresh; something new and exciting. Maybe it scared him just how serious she was in having a family in the future that his subconscious thought that Harry needed one last hurrah to get the infidelity out. Besides, divorces are more complicated when there are children involved.
Secondly, being with Camille was an infatuation that lasted for a long, three years—beginning while Harry was in a relationship with Y/N. Feelings were still there for sure, but he just didn’t know if it was enough to make him stay, especially when Y/N and baby Halo were right there waiting for him. They actually weren’t; Harry just liked to pretend that they were so that he could justify the consequences of his actions.
Camille was trying to make things work with him; Harry could see that. However, there were only so many things that she could do to improve their relationship before she had to change the choices that she had made years prior. Camille really didn’t want to say that she had refuted the idea of not having kids for the sake of making a relationship prosper, but maybe it was what she had to do to make him stay. She wanted a happy life with someone who wanted the same things as her. Harry wasn’t the man who shared a mutual agreement and she was pushed to question her options.
Nonetheless, Camille and Harry stuck with each other because they were all they knew for the past three and a half years. It was definitely ironic for Harry to say that he couldn’t just leave a three-year relationship behind for another woman; because he had done that before. Now, he was a hypocrite too? His ego cannot take it.
Connor wrapped his arms around Y/N’s middle as she washed the dishes in the sink. Their water heater was broken so the stream that came from the faucet sometimes teetered from freezing cold to extremely hot. Right now, she was scrubbing the sponge on the porcelain as quickly as possible while the water was at the right temperature.
Y/N turned her head to the side, pressing a kiss on Connor’s cheek. He rested his chin on her shoulder, bobbing up and down as she moved her arms.
“Is this really a good idea, baby?” Connor asked, staring at the way her lashes fluttered in a pregnant pause, taking a deep breath.
She nodded, reaching over slightly to rest the wet dish on the drying rack. “Halo deserves to at least know her real father,”
And it was true. What kind of mother would Y/N be if she kept a secret like that from her own daughter? The past two years was a constant ping-pong battle of reaching out to Harry and sharing the news to him; then, Y/N would be hit with a shot of realization, wondering if this would ruin his current lifestyle.
“I understand. What if he leaves again? Hate to remind you but Harry left you once before, don’t think he’ll hesitate to do so again,”
She froze at Connor’s words. Y/N was aware that he only said that in good faith, to remind her of how hurt she was at the time and just how long it took for her to be able to finally breathe again.
One side of Y/N urged to still defend Harry. She wanted to turn and around, yell at him because Connor doesn’t know Harry as she does. Harry wasn’t the type to build a child’s dreams up only for him to personally manhandle the heart and crush it in his fist. There was a reason why he was a godfather to so many kids; Ruby, Arlo and Jackson—because he was capable. Harry was a nurturing father who put himself on the back burner in favour of making sure that the little ones were safe and secured. He had no problem being third if it meant that the kids were first, then Y/N, then him.
It all sounded so good in Y/N’s head; so well-rehearsed and very well thought out. The monologue that had somehow stuck in the sides of her brain like a script taped to the wall, ready for the time it needed to be recited. The shredded pieces of paper also reminded her that Y/N might’ve known Harry before, but she certainly doesn’t anymore. In fact, she knew just as much as Connor did.
Just like Y/N had grown and evolved into a new person, Harry was not the same guy he once was when they were together.
“I told him the consequences if he did,”
Connor pulled back, stepping away from her. “But wouldn’t it be better if we didn’t take that chance? Who knows what he might do. . .” He trailed off, grabbing a dry rag to wipe the water dripping from the dish.
Y/N took a leap of faith in letting Harry in. He was a wild card. He could promise one thing but would mean another. Or he could recite a vow and completely annihilate the person as he did with her. Yet somehow, Y/N couldn’t resist the opportunity to give him one chance. Maybe it was because a small part of her craved to re-create a happy family that they had always wanted.
“It’s a risk. I know that” Y/N rinsed a cup, swirling the water in circles. She felt like that whenever Harry was around.
“So why are you still doing it?” Y/N opened her mouth to answer, “And tell me the truth this time, yeah?”
Her boyfriend stared at her with an unreadable emotion in his eyes, lips drew taut in a straight line and arms were crossed over his broad chest. The pressure was immense on Y/N’s shoulders. She was torn between admitting what she had buried deep below the sand or simply glossing over it like a figure skater. Nonetheless, Y/N was on thin ice.
For years, she had flicked away the remaining feelings that stayed with her. But they were persistent in sticking by her side. It wasn’t like Y/N could completely erase Harry from her life--from who she was. She still dressed like him, evidenced by the matching pair of Gucci loafers she chose not to wear for the night in fear that he would coincidentally be sporting the same footwear.
Furthermore, they had a child together! Halo was the spitting image of him. It was hard not to be reminded by a man she once loved when their little baby was both of them mixed in one. So did Y/N still love Harry? She couldn’t deny how much her heart fluttered seeing him stutter over his words at the park. Y/N just wasn’t sure if it was from anxiety and nervousness or excitement and anticipation.
Unbeknownst to the couple, Harry had sneakily closed a sleeping Halo’s bedroom door. His trek back to the kitchen was slow, slightly afraid of the awaiting talk he and Y/N--and possibly Connor-- have yet to have. Harry wanted to be there for Halo and for Y/N every step of the way, but he knew that Y/N would not allow him around if his intentions were to cater to a relationship with her. She was already tolerating him as is.
Standing behind the thin wall that acted as a partition from the hallway to the kitchen, Harry carefully placed his hands against the barrier to steady himself. He didn’t know if his legs could take whatever answer would spill from Y/N’s mouth. If she admitted her true feelings, he would stumble and melt into a puddle. He would be confused, but Harry wouldn’t be opposed to it; he was in a relationship after all. If she denied it--which was the more likely option--, his heart would break silently in his chest.
Harry numbed himself of the guilt raking at his ankles. He was well aware that this was a private conversation but hey; it was not his fault that he had ears straining to listen to Y/N’s reply.
“Do you still love him?” Connor followed up, voice grim. Almost fearful to find out the truth. Harry was, too.
Y/N paused her thoughts as well as her actions, flinching at the sudden intrusion of Connor’s question. She flinched, yelping a little and jumping backwards when the broken water heater subdued the filtering liquid into a burning hot splatter on her skin. Connor picked his feet up in alarm, grabbing at Y/N’s wrist to see the minor injury on the back of her palm.
“Ow!” Y/N whisper-shouted, soothing the ache by situating it between her thighs before shakily showing it to Connor; the doctor.
“Let me see, baby,”
Harry peeked his head around the corner, almost losing his cover with the way his feet instantaneously wanting to move towards a hurting Y/N. Good thing he caught himself. Surely they would put two and two together and realize that Harry was eavesdropping.
That decision came with a laceration to his heart. Harry got a first-class ticket to register that the couple was everything he and Y/N were. The pet names, the domesticity of their actions. The caring glances and constant check-ups.
Deciding to come out of hiding, Harry almost had a heart attack when he turned the corner and was met face to face with Connor. His brows had dipped in worry, face determined to grab some cream to apply to the burn from their first-aid kit in the bathroom. Harry guessed that his whizzing thoughts failed to hear the quiet instruction.
The man jolted in surprise, stopping quickly in his tracks, “Oh hey! Is Halo asleep?” Connor gave him a smile despite the confusion etching in his forehead. Harry nodded dumbly, lips pursing like a fish. “Y/N’s just burned her hand, nothing too serious though,”
He looked over his shoulder to see Y/N eyeing the both of them suspiciously, still clutching the burnt skin close to her. “Oh, I see,”
Connor smacked a firm hand on his shoulder, stepping around him to grab the cream. Harry walked towards Y/N, noticing that she was soothing the painful ache with ice wrapped in layers of tissue. She was softly hissing through her teeth once in a while.
“You okay?”
She tilted her head at him, appearing to be dazed out in her thoughts. “Yeah, uh, nothing too bad,”
Harry kept his distance, leaning on the other side of the counter. He started off by saying, “Thank you for giving me this chance,”
Y/N graced him with a smile, standing up straighter when Connor appeared with a tube in his hand. Harry watched as he unscrewed the cap, placing it beside her. He squeezed a bit of the cream unto his fingertip before applying it directly on Y/N’s skin. She winced, wanting to pull her wrist away from his grip but Connor didn’t let her, “It’s gonna be fine, baby,”
He pressed a kiss to her temple, continuing to rub circles on the burn until Y/N visibly relaxed through slouched shoulders and less shaky breaths.
Harry was staring at them like a kicked puppy. He was fussy and frustrated all in one. He wanted the attention that Y/N was giving Connor. He wanted to be Connor, but both of them were too wrapped up in their little love bubble to notice Harry’s squinted eyes and pinched brows.
He was frustrated because even if he wasn’t the direct cause of her pain, Harry had somehow found a way to continue hurting her and Connor was always there to pacify his wrongful actions. Harry hated that this was how fate had planned his life.
Harry cleared his throat, raising a fist to his mouth, “Think I should go,” His thumb pointed over his shoulder, “Uh thank you again,”
Y/N snapped her head to him, gaze lowering in a timid manner as if she forgot that he was even there in the first place. Connor was the first to reply, “Alright, man. See you whenever,” He capped the tub, shoving it in his back pocket to return to its place.
She leaned on her tiptoes to press a kiss on his lips, muttering something in his ear that had Connor teasingly wrapping his hands on her hips. Harry looked away, taking long strides to the entryway instead.
“Harry, wait!”
He shuddered at the memory of the words that had changed his life when Gemma told him the truth. Harry’s shoe was half-way one when he turned around. “Yeah?”
Y/N was holding a folded brochure, “Halo has a recital this weekend for her dance class,” She handed it to him, “Maybe you’d want to go? You can bring Camille if you want but I think it would be better if you didn’t. She’s still new to this and I don’t want her asking too many questions until she can unders--,”
“I’ll go,” Harry cut her off, unfolding the folded paper. The venue was about twenty minutes away from his place. It was only an hour-long considering the skill set of two-year-olds but it was a fun way for parents to cheer on their little ones. Harry’s previously sour mood was now replaced with giddiness at the sight of his daughter in a pretty pink tutu, twirling on her feet. He was sure that Halo was born to become a performer like him.
She sighed in relief, puffing her cheeks out cutely, “It’s a private dance class. Pretty high end so the security should be okay,”
And there it was again. The constant reminder that Harry was otherworldly to some people. As much as he loved living his lifestyle, he sometimes wished that he was a normie. That was a lot to ask for considering his current situation with his daughter, but a man can dream.
“Got it,”
Y/N leaned over to show him the back of the leaflet, “Just show them this ticket and security should let you in. Halo wanted me to give that to you because she was too shy earlier. I know it’s short notice but I guess she was comfortable enough to ask you,”
Harry blushed at the admittance, mentally patting himself at the back for making his daughter feel at ease in a short amount of time.
“I’ll be there,” He pushed his heel to adorn his sneakers. Y/N bit her lip, she looked hesitant, “It’s okay if you don’t want to go, by the way. I can explain that you’re busy. She’ll probably understand,”
He placed a hand on her shoulder. Harry wasn’t going to ruin his progressive relationship with his daughter on ‘probably’. “Y/N, s’alright. No problem, yeah? I’ll be there,”
Where was he?
It was two days after the dinner and Harry’s promise of attending Halo’s recital was vanishing with each passing second. Every time the hand of the clock ticked to indicate that another minute had elapsed. Harry still wasn’t jogging through the carpeted middle of the small theatre to where Connor and Y/N were seated. Two empty seats were left at the end of the aisle to aid Harry--and possibly Camille--a smooth arrival without creating any distractions.
There were only five minutes left before the stage crew were to dim the spotlights illuminating the room. Y/N was checking her watch what felt like every second, clicking her phone on and off once in a while worried that something may have happened to Harry. Maybe security wouldn’t let him in. The gnawing feeling at the pit of her stomach suggested that Harry just forgot the event tonight but Y/N would cross the bridge when they got to it. Regardless, her nerves were left unsettled as swallowing proved to be more difficult with the way a sip of her water had her gulping audibly. Connor wasn’t there to lend a soft hand on her upper back to help her breathe.
Speaking of, Connor had taken the initiative to visit Halo backstage. The ballet teacher was growing weary of the way the little dancer ran out from beside the stage to stop in front of her parents, asking, “Where’s Hawwy?”.
Halo had done it three times in hopes of receiving an answer aside from, “He’s not here yet,” Y/N tucked a fallen strand of hair from the otherwise sleek bun from beside her cheeks. Her daughter’s form slouching as her pretty eyes watered slightly, “He’s not coming? You told me he was coming, mama,”
Y/N glanced at Connor nervously, being met with an ‘I-told-you-so’ look which didn’t really help the situation. Luckily, the teacher had approached them with a clipboard on hand, searching for the ballerina. The teacher had suggested that one of them stay with her behind the curtain until the show began. Connor volunteered.
“Better hope he comes or else we’ll have to deal with the consequences. I really don’t want to see her heartbroken before of a promise he couldn’t keep,” Connor muttered, following the woman but not before thumbing circles on Y/N’s flushed cheek.
Y/N knew that he meant well. She also didn’t want to comfort a heartbroken Halo because Harry failed to show up where he promised he would be. And now, with a little less than two minutes before showtime, Connor was sent back beside her. Parents were being ushered to find their seats before the lights dimmed and it would be difficult to maneuver through knees and legs.
“Is he here?” Connor questioned, draping a hand on her shaking knee. Y/N shook her head, casting another glance at the auditorium doors. He waved at Halo who peeked her head between the silk curtains, wandering eyes looking at the empty seat beside Y/N.
“No. Hasn’t texted or answered his phone either,” Y/N was about to dial Harry’s contact once more in a desperate attempt to reach him. However, the dimming lights indicated that it was too late. Connor laced their fingers together, offering apologetic eyes and a tight-lipped smile; they would have to nurse a broken heart later tonight.
Harry was in the middle of buttoning his patterned shirt, staring at his reflection in the mirror to silently judge his fashion choice for the night. Was it too much for a kids’ ballet recital? He deemed that it was, stretching his arms to remove the fabric adorning his chest, moving to grab the pink, flamingo patterned shirt instead. He took his time, granted that he had about an hour before the recital started.
He smoothed the fabric over his broad shoulders, pausing when Camille walked in. Harry locked his green eyes at her through the mirror as she walked to their shared bed, sitting at the foot of it.
“What d’ya think?”
She hummed in response, absentmindedly nodding in agreement when Harry asked if it was good. Both Camille and Harry had talked about his relationship with Halo as soon as she landed at the airport. He didn’t want to keep any secrets from her. Fortunately, Camille was very understanding of his situation, offering him support and encouragement to build a bond with his daughter.
What Camille didn’t reveal was that she was a bit antsy of Harry’s relationship with Y/N. She meant everything she had said to him, but it was no guarantee that Harry would ignite another connection with his ex-girlfriend. Not that Camille didn’t trust him. It was just a bit concerning because she believed that how a relationship starts is how it will end. Harry certainly had a history of straying away from his present partner.
Harry was currently in their walk-in closet, finding a pair of slacks that weren't too formal or casual. Camille mulled the thoughts in her head. She loved Harry dearly and would do anything for him. Well, anything except having children of their own. He had mostly accepted her decision, only wincing a little when the topic of a family was brought up by mutual friends and family once in a while.
Truth to be told, Camille was scared. She was afraid that Harry would leave for Y/N because she had Halo. They were the family that he had always wanted and although Camille wasn’t too keen on giving him the same; she was debating on it.
“How’s this, Cam?” Harry retreated with two pairs of pants. On one hand was a pair of straight-leg skinny jeans that he hadn’t worn in years. The other held brown, corduroy, striped slacks. “Or this one?”
She bit her lip, standing up slowly, walking over to him. “What do I think?”
He nodded, innocently jutting his bottom lip at her as he looked back and forth.
Camille swathed her hands on his shoulders, ghosting her mouth over his ear, “I think I like you better without them,” Her finger traced his collarbone, swirling at the dip of his throat. “Without anything,”
Harry gulped harshly. He felt Camille unbuttoning his shirt, gliding her palms downwards until she was cupping his bulge, “Camille, wait,” He flicked his watch to check the time. It took twenty minutes to get there, maybe even more with traffic and parking.
She dragged him to the bed by the ends of his opened shirt, locking her lips with his plush ones. He rested a knee on the mattress, his hands at the back of her head as Camille continued to pull him down.
Pulling away, Harry panted, “What are you doin’?” He laid his creased forehead on hers.
Camille supported herself on her hands, moving her face back until she was able to get a clear view of his perplexed expression, “I was thinking that maybe we could. . . try having a baby, H,” Her voice was soft, almost timid and she was doing her best not to break eye contact to show her sincerity.
Harry gasped in surprise, “Wha--? Really? Are you serious?” His tone gained a pitch as excitement enthralled his senses. The smile on his face was wide and reached his bright eyes. “Baby, are you sure?”
Camille nodded, grinning softly. “Yes,’
“Oh my--this is. . .,” Harry pulled at the locks of his hair, pacing around the room. “This is great! Our own family. Jesus. I can’t believe it,” Tears sprung on his corneas.
He kneeled between her legs, taking her wrist and pressing a gentle kiss on her skin, murmuring ‘I love you’ repeatedly.
“Are you going to keep doing that?” Camille asked, spreading her legs rhetorically. Harry observed her position, nodding enthusiastically.
Another glance at his watch indicated that Harry was absolutely pushing it with being late to Halo’s recital. Yet one enchanting kiss from Camille wiped his thoughts clean. He was getting what he wanted; a family of his own.
Harry puffed a breath of air from his plump lips, chest weighing heavy with the pressure that came from Camille’s head. Her blonde strands were splayed all over his inked chest, fingertips softly tracing over the detailed butterfly on his belly. The giant smile spread over his cheeks made the muscles hurt, yet Harry couldn’t help the expression from overtaking his face.
He was happy.
Camille nuzzled her face closer to him, only looking up when she felt Harry thread his digits through her hair, “Do you think we did it?”
Harry chuckled, wrinkling the skin under his chin as he captured her gaze, “If not, we can always try again, no?” He leaned over to press a kiss on her hairline, breathing deeply to catch the last scent of her shampoo.
The woman cast a glance over the shimmering metal-wrapped around Harry’s wrist, the hands of the watch ticking with each second passing by. “Wanna try again now?”
Harry blinked his lids, tired from their ministration. However, the enthralling feeling boiled from deep within his chest, excitement buzzing all over his vein. The throbbing itch on his fingertip had him doubting the events of today. Like a red shoe-string knot tied over his index, Harry felt like he was missing out on something important.
The discarded shirt laying limply on the floor had Harry’s thoughts humming with whispering desire. Was he too fascinated with the prospective idea of starting his own family that he forgot about the one he already had?
With that thought zooming in his brain, Harry sat up with intensity, accidentally jolting Camille’s upper half with a quiet ‘oomph’ slipping past her lips.
“Sorry! Sorry Cam,” Harry yelled over his shoulder, bending down to grab his shirt. He trudged down the steps, sliding his taut arms over the holes of the shirt as he scrambled to button the stubborn links to close the shirt.
He almost lost his balance on the last couple of steps because of his socked feet against the varnished wood, catching himself at the last minute with a ringed-hand clutching the railing tightly. Harry reached the foyer dresser where he kept his essentials--his keys and leather wallet--, patting down the back pocket of his dress pants to check if he had his phone with him.
Harry paused for a few seconds once he slammed the front door shut, catching his breath. He watched the last rays of sunset projecting over the horizon from where his mansion stood from the hills, wondering if he was too late. Clicking his phone on, Harry’s eyes bulged from the white letters bolding the time.
A few minutes left before Halo’s recital was yet to begin and Harry had to figure out some magical way to make his twenty-minute trek shortened into a mere five minutes. Not including the time he had already wasted frozen on his porch step because of idling fear creeping up his spine. He was scared because there was no way that Harry would be able to make it on time-- he knew that. But he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try.
Y/N cheered Halo on when the curtains swayed to reveal the tiny dancers. Her fluffy tutu made her look absolutely adorable as she stood on her tiptoes, gracing her arms over her head with a practiced smile on her face. The music from the speakers shifted the mood to gather the guests’ attention to the girls on stage, parents cooing at the sight of their small children dancing their hearts out.
Y/N was unofficially assigned to gesture with silent claps and bold thumbs ups’ whenever Halo happened to glance over in their direction. Connor squared his fingers to clutch the edges of his phone, the red button rippling as the time duration changed, recording the whole performance from start to finish.
Despite the fact that the dance classes’ media team made an announcement that a professional videographer would be capturing the whole thing, Y/N wasn’t going to let memories of her child be left in clear-cut transitions. Both her and Connor wanted the recital captured from their point of view. To be reminded of the time Halo rewarded their sleepless nights with a proud, gleaming smile because of how talented and well-rounded she was at such a young age---it was all worth it.
For a moment, Y/N was reminded of the empty seat beside her, the cushions cold and not at all moulded to the shape of Harry’s body. She wondered if his expression would mirror hers; brows drawn in, eyes wide and lips slightly agape as their little girl gave them a subtle wave before doing a twirl.
Y/N couldn’t help but notice Halo’s dimmed features when she caught sight of the gap beside her mum, her ballet slippers skidding of the varnished flooring of the stage, causing little Halo to stumble and fall hard on her knees. A loud thud echoed throughout the auditorium from the hollowness of the flooring, her head staring down at her hands, shoulders slouched as her tutu spread over her minuscule limbs.
Connor shifted his device lower, peaking over his hands to see the child glance around helplessly. Her lashes fluttered around the room; the concerned faces of the audience, her teachers’ gesticulate hands urging her to stand tall, and finally, to her parents’ gentle encouragement.
Y/N shared a quick look with Connor before the couple directed tender smiles to Halo.Y/N mouthed silent cheers, watching Halo’s lips morph upwards, green eyes gleaming against the reflection of the stage light. With one last hopefully glance at the doors, Halo’s pink tights stretched over her knees gathering the strength to push herself up. She shook her head, her adolescent thoughts wondering why she ever put her trust in Harry.
Halo didn’t even know him that well! He was just a person that showed her much of what she wanted, enabling her to the type of love that felt so natural to the point that she pondered why Harry hadn’t been there to drop her off on her first day of preschool. Or made pancakes for breakfast with the small breaks of flour fights in between while Y/N slept soundly in bed. Why Harry’s eyes were the same shade as hers and how her tiny fingers fit perfectly well on the dimples on his cheeks---the same one she had on her plush ones!
The pain in the child’s chest was confusing for her to fully comprehend, yet Halo understood enough that it had to do with Harry's absence in a performance that she was excited for him to attend. Halo tried her best not to look at where her parents stayed seated because she knew that that empty seat would make her lose focus and that was exactly what happened.
With the remaining minutes of the set, Halo blocked the sight of the unoccupied chair, opting to watch her parents instead until the set came to an end and she was to switch costumes for her the grand finale with the rest of the students later on in the evening.
Harry slammed the end of his palm against the leather material of the horn, honking blaring sounds that hurt his own ears. Cursing under his breath, he huffed at the driver who flipped him off for not running through the yellow light, causing Harry to get stuck behind him. He could’ve pressed on the pedal and speedily grasped through the next intersection. Albeit unsafe, but that was the last thing on Harry’s mind.
The digital clock on the dash switched to ten minutes after the performance. Harry was hoping that there was some sort of technical difficulties that pushed the designated time back. Possibly rowdy parents were unable to find their seats because of excitement. And as ashamed as Harry was, he hoped that a child had thrown a fit about performing because that always ate uptime.
His fingertips tapped in a staccato pattern against the rim of the wheel while the other pinched the skin of his bottom lip between his index and thumb. Sweat formed on his hairline, only then did he notice the heat turned up to the highest level from the night before. Harry adjusted the knob, feeling immense coolness from the air vents, thinking once more when the light turned green.
It was an asshole move to honk 0.001 before the light turned green, but every nerve in his being urged Harry to move faster and quicker. He really wished that he could snap his fingers to erase the traffic ahead of him, his mind immediately crossing the bridge to wonder if there was even any parking at the lot--but that was a problem that he’ll handle once he gets out of the congested roadway.
Harry knew better than to text and drive, knowing that his attention span wasn’t meant to be split. Not when his gaze was wild on the road, eyes bouncing back and forth from the time to the seemingly endless traffic. He attached his phone on the car mount, speaking hoarsely to ask Siri to ‘call Y/N’
After the call went straight to voicemail, Harry spewed the words clawing up his throat, “Hello? Y/N? It’s Harry. I’m sorry that I didn’t make it on time. S-something came up and I’m runnin’ a bit late--fucking shit!”
His foot slammed hard on the brake pedal when a sneaky traffic light switched to red. “Sorry I-I’m almost there,”
The beep sounded a few seconds after. Harry was grateful because he had no more words to say after that, realizing that whatever he had to say had to be spoken in person. It was much more sincere--and with the way, his chest was being burdened with guilt---apologies over the phone were never going to fix this.
“Mumma! Dada!” Halo squealed, running over to the both of them. Y/N and Connor were down on one knee, greeting Halo from her height with an engulfing hug with the child in the middle.
The medal on her chest bounced against her body, wrapping her short arms around both of their necks. The couple showered her chubby cheeks with endless kisses, making Halo giggle with delight.
“I’m so proud of you, angel,” Y/N spoke, grazing a thumb over her hairline. Connor handed her a mini-bouquet of flowers which she accepted with glee. “Thank you!”
The dance teacher, Mrs. Dabney, approached the couple armed with compliments for little Halo.
“She truly does deserve that award. Halo comes to class with a friendly aura. Always eager to learn,” Mrs. Dabney shared, evoking a heartwarming feeling in both Connor and Y/N. “You two did a great job raising her,”
Y/N blushed, glancing in amazement at her child. Connor chuckled, kissing Y/N’s temple, “It’s mostly her doing. Such an angel,”
Halo’s grip loosened the slightest bit on Y/N’s and Connor’s hand, zoning out when the adults got into specifics of the choreography and future tuition prices due to the expansion of the dance studio. Looking around to see the families celebrating with the performers, Halo couldn’t help but let curiosity take over her.
Where was Harry?
“It was great seeing you guys,” Mrs. Dabney concluded, rubbing Y/N’s shoulder softly.
Connor examined the emptying room, seeing the families exit through the doors, probably heading out for dinner. The rumbling of his tummy reminded him he was hungry too.
“Ready to go, love?” He asked. Y/N nodded, pursing her lips at Halo’s sad expression.
“Yeah, it’d be best to take this off of her mind,” She kneeled down to Halo’s level, lifting her wobbly chin. Y/N’s heart shattered upon seeing the teary irises staring back at her, “He didn’t come, Mumma. Hawwy didn’t come,”
Halo’s tiny whimpers were a stab to the heart, nearly dropping her mini-bouquet as she sobbed into her mothers’ arms. Her salty tears damped the skin of her neck. “I know, bubba,”
Y/N made eye contact with Connor, who offered her a sympathetic smile, stroking the nape of Halo’s neck in a comforting manner.
Connor crouched down as well, muttering quiet phrases of ‘it’s okay, angel. “How about we get something cake, yeah? ‘Know y’like those, don’t you?”
Halo lifted her splotchy face-off of Y/N, swiping a small finger under her eyes. “A cake?
Her pretty pupils dilated with the light, as well as the prospective concept of her favourite treat dangling under her nose. “Yeah, baby. A chocolate cake,” Y/N voiced out, aiming to remove the pain from the little girls’ heart.
“That’s right, Halo. You can have as much as you’d like,”
Y/N squinted her eyes, she really wasn’t up to a sugar-high Halo nearing bedtime but she guesses it was better than nursing a mopey one. Connor mouthed a ‘what?’, his grin betraying him.
“Alright, let’s go,”
Harry frantically rammed his thumb on the key fob to lock his car. The latch of the door barely grazed past the edge of his sleeve before it slammed shut. He inhaled deeply, not taking notice of the nearly empty parking lot as he ran as fast as he could. Harry’s many experienced years of physical activity--including yoga, football (soccer) and early morning jogs-- have made this so much easier on his calves and asthmatic lungs.
“Fuck,” He whispered out, tightly closing his eyes, backtracking the progress he had made. He unlocked the car, hastily walking over to the passenger’s side to retrieve Honey the Bear situated on the leather seat. With the stuffed animal gripped tightly in his hand, Harry boosted his speed once again towards the entrance.
He stopped in his tracks abruptly when a family opened the door from the inside, almost hitting him square in the nose if his fast reflexes didn’t halt his frame. Harry smiled apologetically, large hands clasping in front of him as he bowed slightly to show sincerity. He could see the flash of recognition whizz past the man’s eyes.
Before he could say anything, the little girl coming to about hip level tugged on his pants, reflecting his attention to her. Harry quickly slipped past the opening, adjusting his vision to the dim lighting. He jogged down the slanted flooring, the carpet aiding him not to skid, especially since he was not wearing sneakers.
Harry panted with exertion, feeling the uneasiness weighing in from the tips of his fingertips, buzzing through his forearms and embedding itself in his taut biceps. His shoulders slumped, using his arms to propel himself towards the front faster. The emptiness of the room should already tell him what he was frightened to face. However, Harry wouldn’t let this stop him.
He dashed straight to the backstage area, not caring if he was caught since he really wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place. Still clutching the toy in his palms, he peeked his head in every room he found only to conclude that it was barren of life, lights switched off and the only sound that echoed was the radio somewhere in the area.
Harry could feel his slim hopes dwindle down the drain. He rested his lumbar on the wooden stage, staring at the Honey the Bear and wondering if it was worth it to miss Halo’s recital for selfish reasons. But was it really selfish?
Halo would have a half-sibling. She would be an older sister. Surely, it wasn’t too selfish of a deed, right?
He sighed lowly. Disappointment showing with the way Harry closed his green eyes in realization. The sound of rolling wheels snapped him out of his destructive thoughts, making contact with the janitor sweeping the dusted floor covered in pink confetti and ruffles. The broom shifted the dirt into one area.
The janitor took note of the paper that Harry held in his hand--his ticket that granted him access to the venue. “A bit late, huh?”
Harry chuckled bitterly at the sarcastic humour. Of course, he was too late, emphasized by the emptiness of the room and the barren reverberation of his voice.
“Just a bit, I guess.”
“Got a lot to make up for, then?” The man asked him, whistling during the pauses they took in the conversation.
Harry nodded, nudging his chin outwards. “S’messy out there, yeah?”
“After every show,”
Harry glanced around at the amount of tidying there was to do, halting suddenly at the row near the stage. He briskly walked over the little ways towards the spot, focusing his gaze on the stickman drawing on the blank paper, moving slightly with the wind.
“Harry”
The label at the centre of the page was capitalized in black marker with stars around his name. Brown circles of curly hair rested on the oblong shaped face that Halo had drawn. His arms, legs and body were thin lines but the smile on the drawings’ face was wide--similar to the one Halo had drawn in her bedroom. The sheet was crumbled, creasing more with the compression of Harry’s grip.
He messed up. Really bad.
With a sleeping Halo nuzzled under the crook of Connor’s arm, the little family cuddle on the soft cushions of the couch with a Barbie Mermaidia movie playing on the screen.
It was only about halfway through the plot when Halo fell asleep. Her hair was freshly washed, smelling like grapefruit and berries. The tendrils of her hair were released from the tight bun which sat at the top of her head for the majority of the night.
Her tired body was exhausted from the activities of the day, begging for relaxation and sleep that came easily with the way her tummy was filled with yummy food. Halo mumbled something in her sleep when the doorbell rang. The loud sound ringing through the house.
Connor hummed in his sleep, shifting his neck to rest more comfortably on the neck of the couch. Y/N rubbed her eyes clearly, checking the time and wondering who could possibly be ringing the doorbell at this hour. She stretched her arms over her head, releasing a sleepy yawn.
She stuffed her feet into her slippers, shuffling the soft footwear towards the front door. Y/N peaked through the hole to find Harry’s face filled with worry. Rolling her eyes, Y/N unlocked the barricade, swinging the door open.
“What do you want?”
“Look, before you say anything,”
Harry paused, looking up at Y/N with a pleading gaze.
“I told you not to hurt her. I told you that you had one chance and you messed that up,”
“I know but I was--” Harry shut his mouth instantly. What was his excuse?
Y/N raised a brow, annoyance wafting from her body language and the firm tone of her voice. “Well?”
He gulped hard, shown by the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “There was traffic. . .”
The woman in front of him laughed humorously, “Oh there was traffic? That’s what you’re going with? You could’ve left your house early, you know?”
He agreed with her, “I know, but I--Camille, s-she told me--”
“Camille?’
Y/N crossed her arms, kicking off the doorframe where she previously rested her body.
Scratching the nape of his neck nervously, Harry meekly responded. “Camille said that she wanted to start a family. She didn’t want to before but she must’ve changed her mind,”
Harry’s usually syrupy speech increased in speed. The information swirling around Y/N’s head as she tried to make sense of what she was hearing. He missed his daughter’s recital for what?
Y/N shook her head to herself. There was absolutely no way that she could get herself to think that Harry was capable of doing that but the facts were stacking up against him.
“Please tell me you didn’t,” She spoke, hating the way a pleading tone was drifting in and out. “Oh God, you did!”
Harry didn’t say anything; he could barely move. He stayed stoic and let his silence do the talking.
“You missed your daughter’s recital to have sex?” Y/N said incredulously, trying to keep her volume down to no wake up the sleeping individuals in the living room. “You’re despicable,”
“Y/N, you have to understand. I just wanted--,” Harry paused, his gaze landing on the small child creeping behind her mum.
Y/N snapped her neck to look behind her, seeing Halo walking over towards them in the chilly night air. “I’m sorry, did Mumma wake you up, bub?” She stroked her head softly, feeling Halo nod.
“Hawwy?”
“Hi, my love,” Harry greeted, crouching down to get closer to her. However, the child moved away from him, hiding behind her mothers’ leg. Harry felt the pinch in his heart at the action.
“You didn’t go,” Halo said, stating the obvious, yet both Harry and Y/N knew that the statement ran deeper beneath the surface. “You pwomised Mumma you’d come. I was waiting fo’ you,”
“I know, baby,” He cooed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t make it, angel. I promise I’ll come to the next one,”
Y/N snickered under her breath, like hell she was inviting him again. Harry stared at her briefly with pain in his eyes.
“Look who I brought,” He revealed Honey the Bear in her sight, giving a smile in hopes that that would make everything better. Halo merely stared at the toy in his hand, a sad pout on her lips. She was even hesitant to make eye contact with Harry.
With a bit of coaxing, Halo took the bear from Harry, inspecting the animal with a careful gaze before throwing it on the dirty ground. Y/N tensed at the action while Harry audibly gasped.
“I don’t want it and I don’t want you!” Halo ran back inside the house, disappearing through the wall that separated the living room.
Harry slowly picked up the dirtied fur, holding it by the clean area. Y/N felt bad for him but she knew that he deserved it. There was only so much she can do to console the child to forgive him and Halo was pretty adamant about not doing so from their talk earlier.
“I hope it was worth it, Harry.”
“No no no, please. Give me one more chance,” Harry slumped his knobby knees on the welcome mat, grasping at Y/N’s exposed ankles from the short stature of her pyjama pants.
Y/N tried to kick him off, but he was insisting. “Get off of me, Harry!”
“Not until you give me another chance. I can fix this,”
“No, you can’t,” Y/N stayed firm, “I made it very clear that if you hurt her, it’s over. And you did. Over what? So you can have sex while Halo spent her time looking for you? Do you know how helpless I felt seeing the way she looked at the door, hoping that you would walk through?”
Harry expected that, but it did not do grace to the guilt that was mounting.
“She fell, Harry. Halo stumbled on her spin and she fell because she saw the empty seats beside me and saw that you weren’t there,”
Harry stood up to his full height, staring at Y/N and waiting for her to tell him that it was all made up. “I-I didn’t mean to,”
“Of course, you didn’t. You never mean anything, do you, Harry?” Y/N stated exasperatedly, “You didn’t mean it when you said you loved me, that we would wed and that we would start a family. You didn’t mean jack-shit when you promised not to hurt Halo--your daughter--but you did. You didn’t mean it then and you don’t mean it now. So please, save both of us the energy because we both know that you’ll break it over and over again,”
“T-that’s not true,”
“Is it not? You hurt me. I’m still hurting from what you did to me and I tried so hard to protect Halo from you. I gave you a chance because I couldn’t take the burden that Halo might never meet her real father and this is what you do?” Y/N closed the door behind her when she took notice of her voice rising.
“All you do is hurt people, Harry! You don’t care about anyone but yourself. You wanted a family so bad that you leave the one you could’ve had to start a new one,”
“That’s bullshit,” Harry said more firmly. “You would’ve never let me back into your life and you know it,”
“That’s not the point! I wanted you to be present in her life, not mine,” Y/N coughed a little, lifting a balled fist towards her mouth, “We have a child together for God’s sake. I love you, Harry. I still do and I don’t think I’ll ever stop because every time I look at Halo, I’m reminded of you. The good, the bad, the happy and painful memories. I can see it all playing in my head when she looks at me with those big green eyes or gives me a smile and your dimple pops into my mind,”
Y/N sighed, “I love you but I know my limit. I wanted you around for Halo, and now--I understand why we would have never worked out. You’re too selfish,”
“Selfish? That’s hardly fair, love. I tried my best, didn’t I?”
“That’s not enough. You’re too enthralled by the idea of this perfect family that you run back and forth between Halo and I or Camille. When the other doesn’t play out the way that you want, you change gears so fast to the other. That’s selfish in and of itself.”
Y/N lingered her hand on the golden doorknob, twisting the mechanic to open the door. “You can’t just leave when things don’t go your way, Harry. That’s not how it works.”
“What does?” Harry stuttered out.
“That’s not how love works,” Y/N smiled sadly, looking into his eyes as if trying to take him back to their relationship years prior. “That’s not how a family works.”
Harry’s expression crumpled, wrinkled his eyes and dampened his rosy cheeks.
“I hope you find your happiness one day, Harry. It wasn’t with me and it’s not with Halo. Wherever it is, don’t mess it up as you did with us.”
Harry was rendered speechless.
His mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. The arm of Honey the Bear dangling from his fingertips as he watched the door shut behind her.
Over the years, Harry had tried desperately to get in contact with Y/N and Halo. All he wanted was his family back. His relationship with Camille was spiralling down the drain with each passing day, dwindling hopelessly, and Harry felt helpless.
He had overheard that Y/N and Connor had moved houses-- somewhere a few miles away. He had persuaded her old landlady to give him her forwarding address, and he had flown out that very weekend. He wanted his family back-- no, he desperately needed them.
He doesn't know what exactly he's expecting when he shows up at the doorstep, but Y/N's harsh tone of voice and unwelcoming demeanour was not it. He had hoped-- prayed, that there might be a sliver of a chance that she might forgive him; that Halo might forgive him. He hadn't seen the little girl since that night; Y/N hadn't allowed it.
"Come here again and there will be a restraining order sitting on your doorstep, Harry, I promise you that. And unlike some people, I keep my promises."
"A restraining order--? Y/N that's not fair!"
"Take it up legally if you'd like. Want to have a custody battle? Bring it on. Let's see whose side the judge is on after they find out that you cheated on me while I was pregnant with Halo."
"I didn't know you were bloody pregnant, dammit!" He yelled, tears pooling in his eyes.
"Oh wow! That makes it all better! You didn't know I was pregnant so you cheated on me. Nice. Great going, Harry!"
"Please for heaven's SAKE stop fucking calling me that!"
"Get out, Harry. Leave. I don't want you here. She doesn't either. And if you think I'm joking about getting a restraining order-- think again. I'm serious. Do not come near my daughter."
"She's my daughter too!," He all but shouted, "you can't keep her away from me!"
"Watch me."
And with that, she slams the door shut in his face, ignoring his incessant knocking and pleading through the wooden panel.
It was years later.
It was a cold February morning, and Harry was fresh out of a hot shower, and he put on a woollen jumper to keep from freezing.
The weather was distasteful, dull and cold, but a smile pulled on Harry's lips. It was her birthday. His little girl's birthday. So what if he hadn't seen her in 10 years? So what if Y/N hadn't spoken to him in a decade? Tears stung in his eyes at the thought that he was missing yet another of his baby girl's birthdays. Except, she wasn't really a baby anymore. She turned 13 today.
There was nobody on the planet he felt more love for than that little girl, of that he was certain.
So when Harry sat down with his letter pad and ink pen, his thoughts drifted to the short span of time he had spent with her. He reminisced on her sweet smile, the tiny dimple that carved into her cheek. Her tiny lips quirked into open-mouthed laughter. He walked to his closet and picked up Honey the Bear from among his clothes.
"Hi," he grinned, talking to the bear as if he were 5.
He sat the bear in his lap and sat at his dining table, and began to write. To his daughter, his little love. He knew that a letter wouldn't make up for what he'd put her through. He didn't even know if he was going to send her this letter, or if Y/N would let her read it.
But what's the harm in trying?
From 'Hawwy',
Hi, my love
______
Reading this again brought a lot of emotions to the surface
#harry styles imagine#Harry styles one shot#harry styles x reader#harry styles fanfiction#Harry styles x you#Harry styles angst#harry styles x blurb#harry styles
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what your paladins main says about you
a comprehensive essay by a paladins player of right around 4 years
this is like really long so i’ll make it under the cut so my followers don’t have to scroll through this if they don’t wanna
(for context i’m a current maeve main, i used to main skye and sha lin and played tyra a long while ago)
.
Androxus
it’s not a phase, mum
“i don’t care we don’t have healer, i’m really good at him i swear”
you ult every time it loads in and you die before the final shot
your favorite mode is siege because you can fly up and shoot the whole point on ult
you’re usually really stand-offish and don’t communicate much and/or a 13 year old boy with anger issues
.
Ash
you are level-headed but in a scary way
you will hold the point solo even if it costs you your streak
“get on the point” “guys get on the point” “attack the objective”
you’ll ult to save yourself 99% of the time
good leader
.
Atlas
you probably used to main lex or androxus before he came out
“he’s like a flank, but a tank, he’s great!”
you chase after solo kills instead of sticking to the point
healers hate you, flanks and damages fear you
your favorite mode is death match
.
Barik
you’re a former/current tf2 player looking for something fresh
you don’t like working too hard so you spam turrets on the point and hope for the best
“healer stick to me i’m boutta ult”
actually really nice between rounds
but you don’t communicate much mid-game and kind of do your thing
.
Bomb King
you’re a really old player. you have the beta makoa skin and you were there when lex was first released. veteran’s discount.
your favorite maps are the old ones and they barely show up any more
the team always underestimates you
“who plays bomb king in 2021 lol?”
you need a hug
.
Buck
“wait, he’s a flank? i thought he was a tank??”
you’re also a veteran in the game
you’re a dying breed. i like never see you. do you even exist?
you’ve been here since like the first day of the game
buck gets so many skins and you want all of them but the best you have is a random recolor
.
Cassie
sweetest person alive
“we can do it guys! let’s try to all rush the point this time!”
you are the bane of every flank
the opposing team hates you, your own team kind of doesn’t notice you’re there
*casually gets a pentakill*
.
Corvus
you know those weirdly political kids who like ww2 and know the details of every tank to ever exist? yeah that’s you
but like that’s corvus. as a character.
but no one ever plays him.
like i never even see him do you exist???
you are a cryptid.
.
Dredge
yo ho you’re a hoe
no seriously the other team views you and they FEAR you
“yeah i just got a penta kill” “YOU WHAT?” “eyes on the point mate don’t get distracted”
hella good at the game and hella casual about it
you like onslaught on the one sea map the most
.
Drogoz
another veteran, are we?
you’re either useless or can wipe out a whole team in seconds. there is no in-between.
you always have a really cool skin.
dovahkiin, dovahkiin...
“i don’t care about the point i gotta get them trips”
.
Evie
you bought her because you thought she was cute, admit it
*turns into ice right before dying* *turns into ice right before dying* *turns into ice right be
your personality type is identical to her. no question about that.
always buys faster reload and better speed
strangely good communication with the team
.
Fernando
gay gay homosexual gay
“he’s kinda hot if you look at him the right way”
fernando is the tank for gay people
you are gay people
i don’t have much more to say
.
Furia
mum energy. not as much as inara mains, but still, mum energy.
will protect every member of the team with your life, even the flanks
you’ve been maining her since she was first added
i bet you didn’t even know she’s canonically seris’ sister
“we’ve literally failed to capture the point the last 3 times we might as well give up and go to another game”
.
Grohk
“yeah i have a gremlincore tumblr blog, how could you tell?”
i honestly have no words
you’re kind of like a catboy but a racoon
do you even heal the team or do you just pretend
you were there when lex got announced and thought he was cringe, now everyone finally agrees with you
.
Grover
he was your first purchased character and he’s stuck around ever since
he’s the only healer you can play well
“i am groot lmao”
you would never say a word to your team
would give your life for the tank but that’s about it
.
Imani
daenerys targaryen on drugs
your favorite anime is my hero academia
your husbando is todoroki
you see where i am going with this
“team protect me i’m gonna ult” *dies 5 seconds into ult*
.
Inara
BIG MUM ENERGY
your team is your family. you will protect them with your life.
can only hold your own with a good healer so you have good teamwork going for you
*cutely places wall in front of your ult*
useless in tdm so you stick to onslaught, siege and koth
.
Io
are you a furry, furry, or a furry?
“victow! dont ult on my tweam pwease! uwu!”
you 100% find her attractive in some way shape or form
you are either a 30 year old redditor who enjoys loli content or a 16 year old teen who is playing a shooter for the first time
she’s kind of cute, i guess
.
Jenos
i can never tell if i’m going to absolutely destroy you or if you’re gonna kick my ass
*cutely holds you up so the whole team can shoot you to death*
kamehameha
you’re a healer??? i guess???
your character has such deep lore and i bet you don’t even know half of it
.
Khan
one day you were playing and your team desperately needed a tank. you picked the first one you saw. suddenly, you’re lian’s foot stool
despite 2 layers of heavy armor, you’d still let this man walk all over you
“this skin is really cool, wish it wasn’t behind a pay wall...”
YEET
you actually know the game’s lore, for some reason
.
Kinessa
i never trust people who are good at a sniper. if you’re bad that’s natural and you’re 99% of the population. if you’re good you are definitely up to something
you’d sell your sister for 5 pennies if you could
you’re missing from the team all game and somehow have the most kills
“we have a kinessa???”
you are an urban legend to your team
.
Koga
someone’s been watching naruto
you are so shit at the game. like i’m sorry. no one’s good at koga i’m so sorry
how do you have so many skins for one character???
you’re always missing from the point
healers hate you. so does the enemy kinessa.
.
Lex
quit the game /nm
“who mains lex in 2021??? lmao???”
wall hacks, aimbot, and it’s all legal for you as an ability. you are a hacker in a world of puny vanillas. you like it easy so you go for the easy min max character. have fun getting hated
you think he’s hot and press on his loading abilities just so he can scold you and you can hear him being mad at you
*bonk* go to horny jail
.
Lian
"she could step on me”
you used to main some sort of healer but switched over when you got sick of everyone being needy
you can hold a point all on your own for a really really long time but the moment your team gets there you start flunking
you wish you had more skins for her
you don’t
.
Maeve
so imagine this. it was like 2018 and you were just chilling playing the game. you kept getting killed by maeve. in every game. she was in every game you went to and she kept killing you over and over and over again. you got frustrated, snapped, and bought her to see if you could do the same to others. you are now the maeve in every game. the cycle repeats.
your whole team doubts you but then you casually get a quad kill and they just sort of look away
you die a total of two times each round and 99% of the time it’s because you go too fast and fall off the map
you repeat everything she says in her accent because you think it’s cute
“welcome to ze meant streets, kitten!” “can you shut the fuck up” “i hate to cut and run, he-he!”
.
Makoa
you have the plushie skin or the beta skin, otherwise you don’t main and only play casually stop lying to yourself
“attack turtle go brrr”
you’re really good if you get paired with a good healer
otherwise you’re useless
you wish you could get better teammates because you could really thrive with an organized group. but on paladins you won’t get that, i’m sorry-
.
Mal’Damba
i always forget this guy is even in the game
you’re definitely under 6 foot IRL
you have an older sibling you always fight with
you’d love to have a snake irl
you’re really chill outside of the game, but when playing you hella rage
.
Moji
you are so precious
but also such a little shit
you annoy me but i also want to give you a hug
“let’s go guys!! to the point!! wheee!!”
please never change but also get out of my sight
.
Octavia
you always main the new character until the new person drops
somehow always have enough credits to buy the new champion whenever they come out
you don’t like having a stable main cuz you get bored
you like hanging out at the training rage
hate siege and love team death match, you like your games quick
.
Pip
you are the worst and best thing to ever happen to this game
you only pick him to heal yourself and hardly ever heal your team
no one notices you there until you ult
then you get focused
honestly you just seem like you wanna do your thing and i can respect that
.
Raum
you probably go to therapy or desperately need it
“BIG MAN BIG. HE IS BIG. BRRRR”
you always love the demons in media
you like being in charge of the team and wreck the point any time you are there, you like fighting on your own but having a healer nearby is nice too
you probably have daddy issues
.
Ruckus
you think ruckus’ and bolt’s dynamic is cool and that’s one of the main reasons you started playing him
he’s the only tank you can play
you used to main either inara or ying at some point but chose violence instead
really short irl. you physically relate to ruckus and spiritually to bolt.
“funny goblin man :)”
.
Seris
certified girlboss
you can hold an objective all on your own or heal your whole team no problem. either way you are SLAYING
“alright. who’s ass am i kicking today?”
mum energy is inferior to inara but still kind of there
i’m like 50% sure you have a foot fetish
.
Sha Lin
*pointing and chanting* incel, incel, ince-
whether that’s about you or the character you can decide
you like minecraft bedwars on the side
“if i don’t get this headshot i am literally going to spontaneously combust”
really useful when there’s no other long distance people - otherwise a nuisance
.
Skye
AWOOGA *jaw drops to ground, eyes roll out of head* BOOBA BOOBA BOOBA
you bought her for the tiddies, didn’t you?
she’s actually really satisfying to play once you get the hang of her, but can be real tough on rough days
you need a break i think - maybe play some other game for a bit?
*casually gets team kill with ult*
.
Strix
you own at least one pretty knife
you played him when he was unlocked on rotation, fell in love, and spent a whole evening collecting credits to buy him fully
“haha bird man”
i’ve said what i said about snipers. if you’re actually good at him you are hiding a body somewhere. i fear you.
why does everyone ship him with viktor????
.
Talus
little furry child
he reminds me of tommyinnit because he is small and annoying
if you play him you are tall and intimidating
i’m friends with a tall scary talus main
i can’t say bad things please spare me
.
Terminus
you always ult at the worst time and just get killed again 5 seconds after
“hey losers watch this” *goes on the point, dies, revives, kills one person and dies again*
you’re only a good tank if you cooperate
you don’t
on your own you’re a pretty good player
.
Tiberius
*sigh*
you think the cat is hot, don’t you?
“his accent is kinda cute tho hehe”
you saw that one ending scene in zootopia with the dancing tigers and it CHANGED you
you are probably a furry. if not your awakening is coming. be ready.
.
Torvald
you’ve been playing this game for too long
you’ve seen skins rise and fall. you’ve seen nerfs and buffs. you’ve seen reworks and remakes. you are ancient. older than the dragons and wiser than makoa. respect.
people see you on the opposing team and get really annoyed
“the point is really crowded, we can’t move in” “don’t worry guys, my ult is charged up”
you’re really good at all the characters but you like this guy a lot because you think he’s funky fresh
.
Tyra
you’re either new to the game or have been playing for too long
either way you can KICK ASS but you need to keep behind your team to do the most damage
flanks are the bane of you, especially the fast jumpy ones
you really want one of the cooler skins but you can only ever get the basic ones. such is the curse of maining one of the OG characters.
“bite me”
.
Viktor
you are level 100+ guaranteed, and everyone fears you
“oh shit they got a victor. flank focus him”
you probably play COD and CS:GO normally and wanted to go with something familiar and easy. your skill from the other more advanced games DWARFS everyone else
but why are you playing “guy with gun 132″ in a game with magical elves and fairies. like come on bro.
you don’t have any in-game friends because paladins is your guilty pleasure game you would never admit to
.
Vivian
“step on me” syndrome cranked up to 100%
this woman could spit on you and you’d still respect her more than your own mother. good for you
“i’m not a simp. i’m just tier 3 subbed to pokimane ironically”
you sweat the game hardcore. former victor main or he’s your secondary.
you’ve got her on level 50+ at least
.
Vora
like the maeve mains but somehow worse
bought her out of spite or played her while she was on rotation, now here you are grinding credits for her a day after she became unavailable
honestly you’re really good at the game i have nothing else to say
you enjoy the newer characters more than the OGs - you’re either a former vivian or lian main
you miss the play of the game feature in the game because you’d get all of them with this girl
.
Willo
you seem like the moji mains at first but show your true colors soon after
“fuck you” x50
you are a trash talker on max overdrive. you need to sit down, do some breathing exercises and have a drink.
you hate your own team more than the opposing guys
when you see a willow on the opposing team you make it your sole goal to eliminate her as many times as humanely possible
.
Yagorath
i bet you didn’t know she was canonically female until you read this
you don’t like sweating too much so you pick the tank that leaves you heavily relying on your healers and damages
you can hold a point really well so you like siege and onslaught
“are vora and yagorath connected in the lore somehow and do i really care?”
you have a friend who you always party up with to be your healer, otherwise you might switch to another character
.
Ying
“tanks love me, flanks hate me”
you are too powerful. literally. how are you so strong
you’ve mastered the most difficult healer in the game. the others are really easy for you to play but you have trouble with seris
motivate your team a lot but start shading and trash talking if they don’t cooperate
you’ll gladly play someone else for a long while and like taking breaks from her
.
Zhin
this is your first main after switching over from overwatch. we can smell it on you.
you’re really annoyed with his personality and voice lines but the character is too good to play for you to pass him up for that. you respond to his voice lines aloud very aggressively to let him know he’s an ass
“YES ZHIN HEALERS AREN’T USELESS YOU SELFISH PRICK”
you try your best but you’re not a great team player
infinite trips on a good day, die repeatedly without kills on a bad one and you switch over to vora or skye for a bit.
.
this took me hours to write out pls leave reblog and note thanks uwu
#paladins#paladins champions of the realm#paladins meme#paladins text post#maeve of blades#ying the blossom#skye twilight assassin#paladins viktor#paladins maeve#paladins ying#paladins skye#paladins octavia#paladins khan#paladins vora#paladins zhin#paladins vivian#paladins torvald#paladins makoa#paladins cassie#paladins inara#paladins evie#paladins seris#paladins furia#i tagged all the pretty girls#lets hope this gets around pog#pcotr
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so netflix just announced the schedule for that fan event on saturdays and now its official: there wont be a tog panel. charlize will make an appearance though, alongside other 5 actress in a panel about action movies. there's a moderator so its most likely gonna be a general discussion about the genre with an emphasis on female protagonists - she's certainly going to talk about andy and nile's characters as well as her experience as a producer - and maybe there will be a comment or two about the sequel, but i feel like nothing too specific or revealing and more like a brief statement. i hope i'm wrong tho! i mean they did kinda hint that there would be new content at the panel? (or maybe it was never gonna to happen and we're just clowns being baited yet again).
anyway, i keep wondering if its a case of netflix not giving a shit about promoting the movie, or if it there's another perfectly reasonable explanation for it and i'm being super extra about it.
because really, netflix has a lot of fucking money and they dont usually spare it on their marketing campaigns. and still we get nothing. not before the film came out (if i didnt have access to the gays from tumblr/twitter i would have never even discover the film - it had me at the joenicky gifs, obvs - and still, i had to introduce it to so many people from inside the community who had never heard of it.) and not even after people started engaging with it, basically begging for some crumbles. not a single photo or video of cast together, not any deletes scenes; we're all starving here!!! in fact, netflix just released the raw footage of an audition/chemestry test featuring the actresses from fear street vs the actual scenes from the film - including some dialogue that was cut from it which reveal some background info about the characters - so clearly they understand the appeal. SO WHY CANT WE HAVE THAT
[nonetheless i'm a fool who still hopes that someday we're gonna get more content of them together (i want behind the scenes footage! i wanna know more about their experiences training and shooting the film! i wanna hear funny stories from the set! i wanna see them teasing each other in several languages! also would sell a lung to watch luca and marwan taking part in back to back chef!). ]
anyhow, i honestly find that even when we take into account the global pandemic and its effects, the publicity was kinda wack; we can basically count on one hand how many interviews were made while they were promoting the film.
and i truly dont get it!!!!!!! im not even speaking as fan here. the old guard has the potential to be a hit among several demographics; now that disney took away what used to be netflix's flagship content the competition has never been more fierce in the superhero/ish genre!!! and its not like we're talking about some low-budget film cmon its a significal production with both experienced and emerging actors. its chiwetel ejofior ITS CHARLIZE FUCKING THERON. anyway my point is that in a time when movie theathers were closed and streaming reached its peak tog could - SHOULD - have been much more popular.
SO LIKE. WHY?????? does it have anything to do with skydance and copyrights? re: interviews, can it be that the cast just didnt sign up for this (is that even a thing? i dont know anything about the film industry, clearly)? unlikely for a movie that big i would guess but who knows??? i mean contrary to some hollywood folks most of the cast is extremely private and discrete people (GOOD FOR THEM) so perhaps they have some reservations about it? or we're really just the poor bastards that end up being obssessed with a media no one gives a fuck about it and thats it? WHYYY
p.s.: sorry for the word vomit! this was not supposed to be an essay i just had to get this off my chest and you're the most welcoming blog around these woods. thank you for the tea (or is it coffee? heh) and the biscuits and for always indulging our passionate rants. HAVE A NICE DAY I LOVE YOU
re: TUDUM, geeked week mentioned there will be a little interview thing for greg & leandro so i have a feeling if anything of tog importance will be discussed itll happen then
but yeah i get what youre saying; sometimes i wonder if the reason that theres like no bts content is bc it just.. .doesnt exist? just people didnt film things like chemistry readings or the like while creating tog and thats why theres been basically no crumbs? (but then again, it was gina who took it upon herself to post the hair & makeup test footage AND theres at least one deleted scene that we know of thats never been posted so maybe not)
and yeah it does seem so bizarre since tog got such a big response from audiences (it was one of netflix's most watched original movies!) and critics did actually like it, unlike some of netflix's most watched originals. PLUS it has that ✨ Franchise Potential ✨that everyone has been searching for as of late and it also gives netflix their sought after Woke Points. idk it just seems like they should be leaning into tog as hard as they can but it feels like theyve been largely ignoring it. i mean i get the holdups in regard to finding a new director but other than that the response from netflix has been so underwhelming
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Hi! I’ve been on a social media break for a while and I think I missed some new book releases, do you know where I can find a recommendation list for 2021-2022? Or if you have any recommendations (preferably by authors of color). Thank you so much 💜 No worries if not
hello hello!! 🤍 here is my recommendations list tag, where i think you'll be able to find some 2021-2022 recs there!
i also looked back at my 2021 reading tracker, and some of my favorites of 2021 are:
young adult
ace of spades by faridah àbíké-íyímídé: an incendiary and utterly compelling thriller with a shocking twist that delves deep into the heart of institutionalized racism, from an exceptional new YA voice. 🌈
fat chance, charlie vega by crystal maldonado: a sensitive, funny, and painful coming-of-age story with a wry voice and tons of chisme, that tackles our relationships to our parents, our bodies, our cultures, and ourselves
hani and ishu's guide to fake dating by adiba jaigirdar: their mutually beneficial pact to fake date, hani and ishu start developing real feelings for each other. but relationships are complicated, and some people will do anything to stop two bengali girls from achieving happily ever after🌈
indivisible by daniel aleman: a remarkable and timely story-both powerful in its explorations of immigration in American and deeply intimate in its portrait of a teen boy driven by his fierce, protective love for his parents and his sister. 🌈
last night at the telegraph club by malinda lo: a story of love and duty set in San Francisco's Chinatown during the Red Scare. 🌈
luck of the titanic by stacey lee: the richly imagined story of Valora and Jamie Luck, twin British-Chinese acrobats traveling aboard the Titanic on its ill-fated maiden voyage.
not here to be liked by michelle quach: a cheeky, feminist and searing novel that unpacks just how complicated new love can get…when you fall for your enemy.
these violent delights & our violent ends by chloe gong: an imaginative Romeo and Juliet retelling set in 1920s Shanghai, with rival gangs and a monster in the depths of the Huangpu River
this poison heart by kalynn bayron: an inspiring and deeply compelling the secret garden retelling about a young woman with the power to conquer the dark forces descending around her. 🌈
you've reached sam by dustin thao: a heartfelt novel about love and loss and what it means to say goodbye
new adult/adult
arsenic and adobo by mia p. manansala: the first book in a new culinary cozy series full of sharp humor and delectable dishes—one that might just be killer...
crying in h mart by michelle zauner: from the indie rockstar of japanese breakfast fame, and author of the viral 2018 new yorker essay that shares the title of this book, an unflinching, powerful memoir about growing up korean american, losing her mother, and forging her own identity. *non-fiction
honey girl by morgan rogers: a coming of age story that grapples with fears that make us human, the family scars that need to heal and the longing for connection, especially when navigating the messiness of adulthood. 🌈
dial a for aunties by jesse q. sutanto: what happens when you mix 1 (accidental) murder with 2 thousand wedding guests, and then toss in a possible curse on 3 generations of an immigrant chinese-indonesian family? you get 4 meddling asian aunties coming to the rescue!
trigger warnings under the cut as always! you can also always add me on goodreads here! if you (or anyone else) is interested in my 2022 anticipated releases so far/favorite 2022 reads (or anything at all! happy reading 🤍
trigger warnings for:
ace of spades: racism, homophobia, bullying, blood, alcohol consumption, car accident, racist slurs, stalking, emotional abuse, panic attacks/disorders, outing of queer characters, suicide ideation , suicide attempt, death of parent, gun violence, murder, toxic relationship, sexism, forced institutionalisation, drug use, police encounter/involvement, incarceration, mentions of death penalty, revenge porn
arsenic and adobo: fatphobia, drug abuse, evidence planting, police intimidation, (implied) domestic violence, racism, fatphobia/ableism/misinformation about diabetes*
crying in h mart: death of a parent, death of a family member, trauma, addiction, cancer
dial a for aunties: death, murder, description of dead bodies (no gore), casual racism, attempted sexual assault, drug use, alcohol use
fat chance, charlie vega: fataphobia, mentioned death of a parent, mentions of sex, underage drinking (chapter 13), racism, a strained relationship with a parent, diet culture, emotional abuse + manipulation
hani and ishu's guide to fake dating: racism, homophobia (specifically biphobia and lesbophobia), Islamophobia, toxic friendship, gaslighting, and parental abandonment
honey girl: discussion and depictions of mental illness, self-harm (scratching skin, nails digging into skin as an anxiety coping mechanism, cutting), past suicide attempt by a side character, anti-Blackness, racism, homophobia, casual alcohol consumption, minor drug use (marijuana), mentions of war, PTSD, past parent death (side character), grief, medical talk, self-destructive behavior, police, amputation (chapter 4)
indivisible: deportation, anxiety/panic attacks, homophobia, racism
last night at the telegraph club: abandonment, parental abuse, family trauma, sexism, misogyny, racism, racial slurs, deportation, death of a loved one, homophobia, internalized homophobia, miscarriage, police brutality
luck of the titanic: racism, use of slurs, death of a parent, death of a loved one
not here to be liked: sexism (challenged), racism (challenged)
these violent delights / our violent ends: mentions and descriptions of blood, violence, gore, character deaths, transphobia, explicit description of gouging self (not of their own volition), murder, weapon use, insects, alcohol consumption, parental abuse / blood, violence, gore, character deaths, murder, weapon use, insects (chapter 3 & 14 particularly are quite descriptive), alcohol consumption, parental abuse, transphobia
this poison heart: brief depictions of grief, mentions of adoption, murder, death of a parent, blood and gore, decapitation, dismemberment, strong language
you've reached sam: grief, death, divorce/separated parents, racism, car crash
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Interview: Shilin Huang, Creator of Amongst Us and Carciphona
Shilin Huang ( @okolnir )is a Canadian freelance artist and comic creator, known for her long-running series Carciphona. She has a Bachelor of Music in Performance from the University of Western Ontario. Carciphona is a long-form fantasy story set in a world where demon-magic is forbidden. The series follows a young sorceress named Veloce, and the mythical assassin assigned to kill her, Blackbird.
Shilin’s newest book, Amongst Us, based on the webcomic of the same name, is an alternate universe comic that reimagines Veloce and Blackbird as musicians and girlfriends in the modern world. You can support the physical release for Amongst Us book 1 on Kickstarter today.
The first book of Amongst Us is coming soon. How do you feel about the release?
Eager and relieved!! I had worked for so long to make the web format viable for print format, as well doing all the extra drawings that were necessary--like covers--that I had to keep under wraps, it felt great to know that that part is finally done and I can release my child into the wild. I was very worried too before the launch of the Kickstarter, because though I am the one who made this story, I am not quite a slice-of-life type of person myself, and it was hard for me to see value in this mundane, not-plot-driven kind of story as a printed book. But I was very lucky to have that worry dispelled!
What drew you towards creating comics and artwork? Was it a dream of yours?
I’ve been drawing since before elementary school because I enjoyed it, and somewhere along the way, I wanted to create my own characters, and then I wanted stories for them. It was always just me doing what I felt like doing, more so than something that I aspired towards achieving consciously. If I had to analyze the allure myself, maybe it was because people and the world are so interesting, I’ve always loved thinking about their nature and circumstances, and art/storytelling was the best way for me to explore and share those thoughts.
Could you briefly walk us through your creative process for making a page of Carciphona or an episode of Amongst Us?
Carciphona is a long, plot-driven story, and so the scale of preparation required before the page eclipses the actual drawing of the page itself. [A] small moment has some larger impact in the plot, character development, and accuracy of world-building. So I usually spend about half a year or more writing out an entire volume, read it over many times over the course of the years, before I do the same thing with sketching the entire volume on the computer, rearranging pages and panels and entire scenes for best delivery, before I finally commit to drawing out each page in detail on the computer.
Where Carciphona is like an elaborate set course where I chop up and measure ingredients and time their cooking with a careful game plan so everything can be served as they should, Amongst Us is more like an omelette that I’m making to taste. There is still planning and writing ahead of time, but each episode is much more self-contained, and I do more of the planning of the episode within the episode itself, adding and taking away details as I see fit before I feel like it reads naturally enough for me to fine line, colour, and paint.
You talk about being a self-taught artist, how did you learn to create artwork? What are some of your favorite educational resources?
While I did come across many tutorials, they were mostly short ones here and there made by my peers, so I don’t have any favourites in my mind that I can share ): . I learned by just looking at the art of my peers at the time and drawing a lot myself, thinking about what I could learn from each time I see something great, and what I could try next time to make the next drawing look better to me. When I had just started drawing digitally, the internet was quite new, drawing tablets expensive and uncommon, with no social media to share art or find resources. Over time, I did try to learn more properly by doing studies and seeking out professional tutorials, but I found that I hated it and decided that I’d rather learn and make mistakes at my own pace and be happy than to commit to effective and efficient learning and make myself dislike drawing.
Amongst Us is, of course, an Alternate Universe comic featuring characters from Carciphona. What inspired you to put your characters into a GL slice of life work?
Back in 2006, when I started drawing Carciphona, I had no plans of this frenemies dynamic for the two main characters, Blackbird and Veloce, and when the thought had occurred to me as I continue to tweak the story, canon GL relationships were still rare and rarely accepted. I was even told on many occasions by readers that they hope the two do not end up with some couples dynamic, or they will no longer be interested in the story. Ultimately, Carciphona was a fantasy story about an entire world, and I wasn’t going to risk the story’s reception over a small detail like whether or not Blackbird and Veloce sleep together, so I just played with the ideas of their relationship on the side, in paintings of many different AUs. Eventually, all that did was make me become so attached to the idea that I decided to say, screw it, I need someplace where they could be together, and I’m drawing an AU for real.
Where do you draw inspiration from for your work? Both Amongst Us and Carciphona.
I love a lot of things, feelings, aesthetics, and I eat up all of that and take it back out in the form of my stories. The inspiration is everywhere, from beautiful imagery I witness in pictures and in real life, to [the] lives of people that I hear about or experience firsthand, to the ethics and structures of professions from mechanics to medicine… In feelings, knowledge, and perspective, there’s an infinite amount of things that makes me think, and that thinking is what creates AU and Carciphona, whether or not that line of inspiration can be clearly drawn back to the root of the thought.
What are some of your biggest challenges or fears creating Amongst Us? Was there any realization or advice that helped you overcome those difficulties?
My biggest fear is always in relatability because it’s a difference between me and the reader that I do not and cannot have a solution for because it involves another person. In such a relatable genre as slice of life/comedy/romance, where the readers have more experience and therefore more varied but stronger expectations of a version of life that is relatable to them, I know that even if somehow I become a master writer, I still would not be able [to] say whether I could story that others would get or would be interested in, especially because I am aware I am an oddball when it comes to how I think, how I live, and what I value. What helped me the most was simply seeing that there were readers who did enjoy the stories for what it was, and reminding myself that I’m telling the stories to find those who might enjoy it, not to avoid those who might not. It’s a different perspective, rather than a solution, so the worry constantly resurfaces, but I hope it becomes easier over time as I am proven wrong more often!
Amongst Us readers have gotten to see Veloce and Blackbird as an established couple, and now we are witnessing flashbacks to how they first met. Where do you hope to take the series in the future?
I intend to tell both of these timelines concurrently, so as the couple timeline ended at episode 20, I intend to end the flashback at around episode 40, and then switch again at episode 60, and so on. While this kills the momentum for each arc, I made AU so that I can have the cake and eat it too--I want both their back story and a happy ending at the same time without having to wait 10-20 years for it, like I do with Carciphona’s plot haha!
What is one dream or aspiration you would like to accomplish? Even if it is unrealistic.
My only dream right now is just to finish both Carciphona and AU before my time’s up! Funny how unrealistic is specified, it made me realize that I rarely consider unrealistic dreams/aspirations as worth thinking about as they are unlikely to happen when there are so many other things I want to do that are actually possible. Most of my unrealistic dreams actually revolve around music, a profession I had left behind with an aching heart. I dream to play a concerto with an orchestra someday, or even learn to conduct, but for now, drawing my dreams out feels enjoyable and fulfilling enough a compromise!
What advice do you have for people wanting to create artwork and comics?
The true challenge these days I feel like is rarely in the work itself; there are so many readily available free resources that anyone who is capable of working hard and thinking critically will sooner or later be able to master skills they acquire to some degree. What is truly challenging is finding, and then accepting, what paths work for you. Someone might find great joy in working in a studio with a group on something big, while someone else might only enjoy drawing what they feel. Both, in this current climate, will be compelled to adhere to the standards of drawing what others want to see in order to gain recognition and financial stability, one will thrive, one will not.
I think the most important thing to keep in mind is understanding what you want out of drawing/creating, and why. Understanding yourself is often not as straight-forward as it may seem, everyone has different circumstances that subtly motivates them to sometimes misdirect energy and misinterpret what it is they truly want. Some people need to be understood, some people want an excuse to execute, and some people want fame, money, recognition, validation. Whatever it is, and all valid, understanding and accepting your own motivations to create can tremendously help you find the path forward that is suitable for you, not anyone else, even if it might mean following an impractical path that no one else recommends.
Finally, after the release of the first Amongst Us book, what is next for you? Anything special your fans can look forward to?
My game plan through the decades has always been to just keep going. I did choose long-form projects such as the comics that I draw, and the best thing I can do is to just keep it up and reach those exciting points of the story that I’ve always worked towards, no matter how uneventful that may make my work routine sound. However, I do have a little side thing with a(nother) recurring theme that I’ve been doing here and there for fun whenever I had time, people who keep up with my social media art posts may have noticed. If I ever accumulate enough material, maybe there will be some bonus snacks for my readers on the horizon!
Read Carciphona and Amongst Us online now and be sure to support the physical release on Amongst Us book 1 on Kickstarter today. Also, be sure to follow Shilin on Twitter @Okolnir.
#yuri#news#essay#lgbt#lgbtq#lgbtq+#queer#gay#shilin#girls love#gl#wlw#essays#interview#art#artist#comics#indie#carciphona#amongst us
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Inspired from birth ｜ Emptiness that you want to hug
Dialogue with the Bungei Prize-winning author.
Tono Haruka, who received the Akutagawa Prize (1) less than a year after the 2019 Bungei Prize (2), and Sakurai Atsushi, the frontman of BUCK-TICK, who continues to play an active role in music culture after their major debut in 1987 and who this September celebrated 33 years from that day. As if real father and son, as artists of different genres - what do they feel and get from coexistence? That which was not told before; what I always wanted to hear. Here, for the first time, is presented a dialogue that pushes creative boundaries.
ᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠ Resonant feelings
Sakurai: I didn’t think the day would come when we could talk like that. I am very grateful.
Tono: Likewise, thank you very much.
— Sakurai-san, when you read Tono-san’s novel, what impression did it leave on you?
Sakurai: Cultivation shocked me. Not in the sense that I didn’t like it - it is rather akin to art that I like to touch. Regarding the Catastrophe — thanks to the Cultivation I am tempered enough for Tono-sensei’s books; and even though there are a lot of hardcore scenes of sex and violence, it didn't shock me too much. While I was reading, he pulled me in and repulsed me - this both disturbed and soothed. Although it is rather ridiculous to describe my impressions of the novel that way.
Tono: It's hard to share your impressions, isn’t it?
Sakurai: After reading Catastrophe, the emptiness of the protagonist seems to leave an aftertaste. She resonates with the emptiness in me, as if I want to embrace something passionately — but there is nothing to embrace. The feeling was like that. I was the kind of child who started to really get into the festival after it was over. Not having fun in the midst of the fun, but thinking about it when it’s already over. And as I grew up, nothing changed. First and foremost, I come to terms with everything, so [for me] the “emptiness” of Tono-sensei’s novel was refreshing.
Tono: Many people mention the word “emptiness” (решите, что вам больше подходит — “emptiness” или “void”). And the main idea of Catastrophe speaks of “the emptiness of a new era”.
Sakurai: Tono-sensei gives the impression of a composed and calm person, and this is imposing on the main character. It seemed to me that the hero contains not only emptiness, but also a certain composure.
Tono: It’s a bit surprising to hear that Sakurai-san has an emptiness. I have listened to BUCK-TICK since elementary school and I think that this band has more of a well-established dark worldview rather than emptiness. Their world is original, which completely sets them apart from other bands, don’t you think?
Sakurai: Been listening since then, really? Thanks. I am very touched.
Tono: My work couldn’t be called bright either, so maybe [their music] subconsciously influenced me.
Sakurai: Dilettante question, but — The Cultivation and Catastrophe are not about personal experiences, they are a product of the imagination, right?
Tono: Yes, that’s right. I was not describing my own experience, but I designed and took everything from imagination. It is much more interesting to write, thinking about what you yourself have not experienced or what you don’t know about, because you can discover something new for yourself.
Sakurai: That is, before you start working, there is no fully-formed concept, it is formed step by step in the process of writing?
Tono: I sketch out something like a rough draft, but when I start writing, I move away from it, and the result is something completely different. It seems that I am writing it myself, and then suddenly something unexpected appears [in the text], which confuses and complicates everything, but this only makes it more interesting.
Sakurai: Something unexpected — for example?
Tono: In Catastrophe, there is a girl named Irori who gets scared at one point. Before starting the work, I thought about including a child somewhere. But when I was already writing, I surprised myself when, at an unexpected moment, she hid under the bed and watched the hero.
Sakurai: Yes, it happens. Could it be that the story itself is rejecting [the planned] in the process of writing? There are deviations from the original design, and in the end it turns out completely different. These changes are fun, it’s great.
ᅠ Life and art
Sakurai: Although not a first-person novel, do you have the same sudden madness and cruelty as the protagonist, Tono-sensei?
Tono: I think I’m a very decent person. I don’t fight people, I don’t stay up late. In that sense, the main character and I are completely different.
Sakurai: So this madness is purely imaginary?
Tono: It doesn’t really happen. This was not conceived in the characters, and yet from time to time they did things that should not have been done, or found themselves involved in unexpected events due to some minor misunderstandings. So I could, in the heat of the moment, do something rash. I still have some kind of crazy thing in me, and this could have affected the characters.
Sakurai: As I read it, it worried me if you were experiencing what you described, or if you are going to experience it in the near future. It was constantly spinning in my head. Perhaps it bothered [me] from a different point of view, not as a reader.
Tono: There is almost nothing from my life or personal experience in this work. The location of the Catastrophe is Keio University (3), and I also studied there. Is that the issue? I have not participated in such events and do not plan to. *laugh*
Sakurai: Thank goodness. *laugh*
Tono: It’s hard to make a story interesting just by describing how the characters sleep and go about their day, so you have to weave in some twists and turns.
Sakurai: There’s a font of worries in there. Very stimulating. Because of this, when I was already finishing it, it felt a little sad, because I wanted to read on, but it seemed that the end was close.
Tono: Of course, as the saying goes, “This is where everything ends”.
Sakurai: How would you, Tono-sensei, suggest to read [this book]?
Tono: How should I put it... I don’t want to impose on readers [thoughts] like “I wrote with this intent” or “This book needs to be read this way and that way”. I do not want to limit the potential interpretations. I would be happier if they read it on their own, calling it boring if it was boring, or interesting if it was interesting.
Sakurai: It's very courageous.
Tono: If I was debuting as a teenager, it might have been different. But since it happened when I was already 28 years old, I do not take readers’ reactions to heart and am not afraid of it.
Sakurai: II only recently came to this. Probably in my fifties, somewhere around the last three released albums. In my youth, I was still that little tyrant, digging in my heels, so that everything was my way. Now it all seems somewhat extreme. Now I think: “Listen as you like”.
Tono: Do you look up the listeners’ impressions?
Sakurai: I don’t want to worry about [reviews on] social media. Not in the sense of “I don't care,” but in the sense of “I don’t want to worry”. So personally, I am not involved in checking such things.
Tono: Well, I’m checking it. I’m trying to figure out, in general, how people read it. It doesn’t affect how I write, though.
Sakurai: Oh, just to confirm [your thoughts], correct? A sensible approach. Of course, in my case, there should be no paranoia at all. You start taking everything to heart and fears will arise, so it’s better not to get carried away.
Tono: Companies conduct surveys of who use their services, don’t they? It’s kind of like that. If all the experiences are completely different from my expectations, it is worth considering how I write.
Sakurai: A top-notch entrepreneur.
Tono: No, I’m a newbie. *laughter* Not a year has passed since my debut...
Sakurai: A very courageous newbie, from where I am looking.
[At our next meeting, I will already be
the winner of the Akutagawa Prize]
Sakurai: Last December he attended the BUCK-TICK concert in Yoyogi. Even before the Catastrophe was published in the magazine. After the performance, we were able to talk a little in the dressing room, and when he was just about to leave, Tono-sensei said, “By our next meeting, I will win the Akutagawa Prize”.
Tono: Ah, yes, he did. It was probably terribly immodest to say that. But if before you roll the dice you declare that it will come up six, and then it really comes up six, it seems that something amazing just happened, right? I wonder if they will ever say: “Just like he said”?
Sakurai: And the promise was fulfilled. It couldn’t be cooler. He was wearing a mask, so it was difficult for me to see his expression, but I saw that dazzling confidence.
Tono: I often say these things even if I haven’t finished my work yet.
Sakurai: It was the last push, right? Thank you for coming to the concert then.
Tono: How could I not? And the next concert will be the day after tomorrow (September 21*)? I bought a ticket.
Sakurai: Is that true? Wow, I am suddenly nervous.
Tono: Is this the first time you broadcast a concert online without an audience?
Sakurai: We performed without an audience at WOWOW once before, and I had no idea how much tension to expect. And a few days ago we had a film-concert shoot — in a large hall, without an audience. Of course, there was no applause or shouts of joy. After each song there is a complete silence.
Tono: Not very encouraging, right?
Sakurai: Right now I'm trying to get inspired by myself. Even now, during the coronavirus epidemic, there are many things you can get latch on to. I realized that even these days I can be on the same wavelength with the energy of my fans. It was not an ordinary feeling. You also can’t do autograph sessions and meetings with readers right now, correct?
Tono: Yes, there are no autograph sessions yet, and the conversations are taking place online. The Akutagawa and Naoki Awards (4) usually serve a lot of food, but this year there was no such thing, and the number of guests was limited.
Sakurai: Very sorry. Still, it must have been an amazing experience.
Tono: The day after tomorrow the sales of the new album “ABRACADABRA” will start, right? What does it look like finished?
Sakurai: After Tono-sensei debuted as a writer, we exchanged messages with him, and it gave me courage. Or if not courage, then determination to write and juggle words. I think it showed itself in the album. Perhaps I’ve managed to open - more precisely, to throw open the door to a vocabulary that I had not used before.
Tono: It seems to me as well, that you succeeded.
Sakurai: Moreover, now I have the strength to use those words.
Tono: Any desire to write a novel?
Sakurai: No way.
Tono: I would read it even if it was very short.
Sakurai: I think it would take an incredible effort from me.
Tono: You were writing song lyrics originally, correct?
Sakurai: Yes, I’m writing. Music has always been on my mind. Although in elementary school I was often praised for [written] reviews of what I have read.
Tono: It was exactly the opposite for me. I was completely unable to describe these impressions. I couldn’t even set it up.
Sakurai: This is amazing.
Tono: I couldn't understand what kind of impressions they were talking about. No matter what I read, everything seemed to me “Well, okay”, but you can’t call that an impression.
Sakurai: In some interview it was mentioned that you were a member of a band when you were at university.
Tono: It was a copy-band, there isn't much to talk about. But Cultivation has a character who plays drums in a band, so that experience influenced the novel.
Sakurai: I’m even a little happy.
Tono: I did a lot of things, but for the most part I gave it all up quickly, so writing is my longest-running occupation at the moment.
Sakurai: Since when have you been writing?
Tono: I started somewhere after I turned twenty, so it’s about seven or eight years old by now. I thought that being on the other side [of the book] was a completely different matter. Like, shouldn’t I become a creator myself and start giving shape to things? Perhaps BUCK-TICK influenced this in some way from the very beginning.
Sakurai: And then a novel ended up being written.
Tono: Yes.
— Did Sakurai-san know that Tono-san was writing a novel?
Tono: The first time I told him about it was when I won the 2019 Bungei Prize for my debut.
Sakurai: I’ve heard something [about this] since he graduated from university, but was amazed when he suddenly made his debut as a writer. However, I was looking forward to [the release of the book]. What kind of work will it be, could not wait to read it — something like that. And I was amazed a second time when Cultivation came out. How did you feel after finishing work on this novel?
Tono: I gained confidence and I decided that I could make it to the final round. I didn’t know, of course, how it would go in the future, if I would end up regretting it.
Sakurai: And he wrote to me about it.
Tono: Yes, that happened. I wrote “I got to the finals”. It was still cooler to report this after receiving the award.
Sakurai: And the coolness of the statement that “next time I meet I will be the winner of the Akutagawa Prize” then went off the charts.
Tono: This is just the beginning.
Different hobbies, same tastes
— This year BUCK-TICK celebrated 33 years from the date of their debut — without breaking up or changing membership of the group. What is the secret of such longevity?
Sakurai: Patience. Group work requires patience. The others and I, by the way, we often say this. But it seems to me that writers are have it more difficult in terms of moral, because they work alone. You have to evaluate yourself. When you are in a group, there is always someone who will express their opinion.
Tono: Perhaps so.
Sakurai: The writers of the old days appear to us to be some kind of alcoholics and drug addicts, down on their luck, with a ruined life — but now people are different.
Tono: In our era, being a writer, you can support yourself with more than just creativity, so in this sense the profession is more reliable than before. And I don’t drink much at all. And you, Sakurai-san, drink a lot, right?
Sakurai: Yes. I am one of those who seek salvation in alcohol. *laughter*
Tono: By the way, do you still read lots of novels?
Sakurai: Recently I reread Mishima Yukio again (5). And also [books] by Numata Mahokaru-san (6) and Taguchi Randi-san (7).
Tono: You’ve loved Mishima Yukio for the longest time, right?
Sakurai: Yes, quite true. It's not just about books — I’ve watched YouTube videos about Mishima Yukio and Kawabata Yasunari (8), and they really are very interesting people.
Tono: I haven’t read Yukio Mishima at all. My preferences in literature are very different.
Sakurai: What is your favorite writer, Tono-sensei?
Tono: When I was just starting to think about the novel, I had no idea how to write, and started by imitating the prose of Natsume Soseki (9). Have you read it?
Sakurai: I love his Heart very much. But now you probably don’t have time to read.
Tono: Right. But they often say that you need to read more, so I think about it anyway. Sakurai-san, do you study other artists’ music?
Sakurai: I’m a slob, so I’m not really up to date, so to speak. But good things still find their way to me. I can catch it on the radio when I’m driving, or hear it somewhere by accident. The youth of today like Kaze-san Fujii (10), don’t they?
Tono: Wow. A bit surprising.
Sakurai: You probably like something harsher, right?
Tono: I love King Gnu (11). Mentioned this in an interview for the monthly Bungei Shunju (12). Many were surprised that the music favored by young people and the traditional image of the Akutagawa Prize are not related.
Sakurai: King Gnu is great. I bought their CD as well. Just like that, I found out about King Gnu when I accidentally heard them. They have such an interesting lead singer.
Tono: Iguchi Satoru-san is interesting, yes. On Twitter, I would send links to [my] videos to anyone, even to the Pope himself. And when I appeared at Music Station, I stunned everyone with my descent down the stairs.
Sakurai: Showed up wearing sandals, yeah. *laughter* Do you watch a lot of TV?
Tono: From time to time. I saw your collab with Shiina Ringo-san at Music Station. “Elopers” is a great song, very powerful.
Sakurai: Really? I am very happy.
You can't lie to yourself
Sakurai: Has the third work been written yet?
Tono: Yes. The events transpire in an institution that raises people with supernatural abilities. The main character attents it along with the rest, tries to awaken superpowers in himself, but since he does not possess them, he gets no progress. This is the story I am writing. It will differ from the two previous works in meaning.
Sakurai: Is there a deadline?
Tono: I want to submit it to the editors by early next year. You, Sakurai-san, also have deadlines, right?
Sakurai: I have deadlines, of course. Release and tour dates might be pre-determined and songs should be worked on accordingly. And I will stubbornly work on them until they tell me: “That’s it, you can't put things off any longer”. However, I still try to keep within the appointed time.
Tono: Are there any serious challenges when you work?
Sakurai: It's very difficult to work when I’m drained. If you try to force something out of yourself, you get only lies, and then it turns out that you are insincere with yourself and with others. You can’t lie to yourself. But with a bit of personal experience and imagination, on the other hand, you can make very good progress.
Tono: You have to rewrite everything a lot, right?
Sakurai: Depends on the song. Sometimes I have to rewrite over and over again, and sometimes I write the first word that comes to my mind and everything is ready. Most often, some kind of shape may emerge first. How is it with you, Tono-sensei?
Tono: More often than not, I have one scene at the beginning, and I start writing based on it. At that time, I do not yet know how the story will develop, I have only scattered fragments, and as they are combined and edited, I am finally getting the feeling that the world of of this work is acquiring its finished form. By the way, I had some trouble coming up with a name for Cultivation, and I was given one piece of advice, do you recall?
Sakurai: Ah, yes, but in my opinion, it was not very good...
Tono: When I asked “How do you come up with names?”, You replied, “It should express the essence, but at the same time cover the whole thing. That word would fit the best”.
Sakurai: Wow, I put it remarkably well. And [I said that] to the future Akutagawa Prize winner, such arrogance. *laughter*
Tono: Even though I didn’t really understand how to apply this advice in practice, I still relied on it.
Sakurai: Cool title, isn’t it? Even though I said there were some disturbing moments when I was reading Cultivation for the first time, I think it read very cleanly. For example: “To my delight, I managed to look great. <…> I just wanted to be beautiful” — here, as it seemed to me, the words are very good - fresh and clear, without unnecessary embellishments.
(2020.09.19)
Sakurai Atsushi, musician. Vocalist Buck-Tick. 66 years of birth. New job: 「ABRACADABRA」
Tono Haruka, writer, winner of the Akutagawa and Bungei awards
END
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Anybody - N. Horan Imagine
NOTE: I sincerely appreciate everybody’s patience with me getting to requests. Sometimes its just nice to take a lil break and write a niall amnesia fic, ya know? anyways, here’s another requested imagine (i combined two because they were vv similar), enjoy!
“You’re telling us you’re still single?” The girl scoffs. “Yeah, right.”
It made your cheeks flame up incredibly and your stomach turn in guilt. Normally, this conversation would not have you so antsy or defensive if it had not been for Niall’s presence beside you. The idea to share lunch with the cast one day and have Niall tag along was entirely your idea, so there was nobody else to throw blame on. You were happy Niall agreed almost immediately to your proposal, despite knowing the repercussions if either of you somehow clued that you were together in front of your friends and especially in public.
Your lifestyles were definitely a commonality in your relationship. The constant interviews and public appearances were what led to the two of you introducing one another. You both had a disposition for complimenting people greatly, but had a difficult time taking them to heart. Your first meeting could be illustrated with the two of you gawking over each other’s work and red cheeks, with the subtle flirtatious remark thrown in. But it was the impetus for the exchanging of numbers, and a couple of dinners and intimate nights shared in the bedroom.
More importantly, it led you here at a restaurant surrounded by your costars for one of Niall’s favorite television shows and the man himself. He claimed it to be one of his favorites before he even met you, which you still doubt to be the truth, but you never pushed him for validity. The question from your costar, who could also be considered one of your closest friends, left both you and Niall stunned for a moment.
“Oh, come on. Why is that so hard to believe?”
“You’ve got guys crawling over you all the time.” Another chimes in. You could not argue his point; it happened every time you stumbled across a male fan of the show, over twitter direct messages or blatantly in response to something you posted online. Even during interviews some male hosts would flatter you in the objective to get in your pants, in spite of how clear you made your interests to be platonic.
“So, I can’t be independent and say ‘no’?” You raised your eyebrows, feeling inferior to your colleagues. Unlike them, having a public relationship was off of the table.
“You can. But admit it, you could literallu have anybody, Y/N.” Your friend looks around the table, earning many nods of agreement. You wish every day to wake up and just have the world know your secret. But it did not work like that.
Your publicist immediately refuted the idea of publicly dating when you mentioned your affair with the musician. She went ballistic, claiming you were insane to just post a picture of the two of you to your socials with the mindset of “whatever happens, happens”. It would lead to speculation, which will lead to a closer eye on the two of you and your every move, she argues. Her demands made you want to keep your mouth shut about your fear of being mobbed by cameras off of the red carpet before this conversation. She went on to say the longer you were “available” in the eye of the public, the more popular you would grow. Teenage boys would fawn over you, their girlfriends would google you to see what the hype about you was and hate-stalk you, which would result in a larger following.
Having that disappear all because you were off of the market would make your numbers plummet and lose grip of your male demographic. You were nearly tuning her voice out by this point, until she pointed out that Niall was probably in the same boat. Girl’s loved him; guys were fuming over him. Bigger album sales, followers for days, until the announcement that one of the world’s biggest heartthrobs is officially taken.
You informed Niall about the conversation later that day. And as much as he wanted to say it was bullshit, he could not. It was true. He had attempted many times to present the relationship reveal presentation to his manager and publicist, but both shut him down the moment he began to speak. As of now, both of you were bound by contract to keep your lips shut.
Niall’s aura screamed its independence, so there was no speculation circling him lately about a possible affair. You however, were fresh meat. The new, hottest thing one of few top, trending shows. Everybody wanted to know your whereabouts and who you we’re hanging around with everyday, all day. And it never really seemed to stop.
The night your followers on various media platforms doubled, then tripled, then quadrupled in a matter of hours was when you needed to turn off all receiving notifications. Messages, mentions and questions were flooded to your phone at such a rapid rate that your phone froze. If a photo was even published online of you hugging a man, you would be interrogated about it for the next five interviews following that day.
Recently, the man in question has been your co-star in the series, Ryan. It was clear in the show that your and his character had major chemistry, but outside of the set, Ryan acted like more of a brother figure than anything. He would scare you whenever you turned random corners in the studio, ruffle your hair and bicker with you at any opportunity.
Many gossip news sources were asking both you and your co-star if the relationship between your characters was the same on-screen and off-screen. But it seemed the countless amounts of “no’s” you both delivered immediately after the question was asked was not enough. The other day, a video of him handing you a water bottle with a smile gained thousands of views overnight, as well as theories that you two were hiding a relationship from the public. It could not be further from the truth, but you and Ryan knew it was useless to comment otherwise.
In fact, everybody around you was discouraging the idea to cancel the rumors. All except one person, who always seemed to be cheering you on in your worst moments. And by the eighth week and hundredth photo of you and Ryan allegedly “confirming” your relationship, you had enough.
You stormed into Niall’s apartment with hot feet. You passed by him and paced his kitchen, while he sat up from the couch. Turning down the volume on the golf match playing on the television, he ventures after you and into the kitchen, finding you scavenging his fridge.
“Hang on.” You held up a finger, before retrieving a cold bottle of booze from the fridge. Niall eyes you carefully in your haste to grab the bottle opener already accessible off of his kitchen island and pop the bottle cap off the drink and down half of it. While you guzzle down the drink, Niall gulps, licking his lips.
Chugging a beer, as weird as it sounded, was one of the hottest things Niall had witnessed you do to date.
“Okay,” you slammed the near empty bottle down, taking a deep breath of preparation. “Go ahead.”
“What happened?” He already knew the answer, but it could not hurt to ask. He figured if it bothered you too much to speak about it, you would deny answering. But, considering he was the only person who allowed you to rant to him, you were not going to throw away the opportunity to do so.
“More shit about me and—” That’s the farthest you could let Niall peek at your day before a familiar ringing noise sounds in the kitchen. Niall releases a sigh as you collect your phone from your back pocket, seeing who was calling.
“It’s Ry—”
“Take it. It’s okay.” Niall assures, without you even having to ask. You nod, promising to be quick, though he knew it would be at least twenty minutes before your attentions could turn back to him. That is, if another article was not sent to you about the situation.
“Hey…yeah I saw…” you eye Niall strolling out of the kitchen, his bare back and tense muscles prominent from your view. “Uh huh…” you murmur, before you and Ryan are venting about your day to one another. All of the interrogations at interviews, the photos people had snuck while touring the set, and the trailer for the newest episode that was just dropped. The trailer went viral within two hours because your editors and marketing team decided to include the kissing scene your two character’s shared in that episode along with the montage of other points. By the time you had ended the call, you found Niall showered and lying on his bed. The television in the living room was black, a sign that the golf match ended much earlier.
“Hey…sorry about that.” You mumble, crawling into his bed beside him.
“It’s okay…I assume you don’t want to talk about your day?” He inquires, looking down as you wind an arm over his stomach.
“W-what makes you…”
“I mean, I don’t want you to waste your breath or anything. Judging by the earful you gave Ryan it must’ve been juicy.” Niall remarks through his teeth.
“I was just—”
“Because why waste your time talking to me about it, right?”
“Niall! Stop!” You yell, allowing a heavy silence to fall in between you two. You take your arm away from his middle and sit up, brows scrunching. “Why are you acting like this?” You ask, tone quieter.
“I…don’t know. I’m sorry, I’m just…I’ve been in my head a lot lately. Thinkin’ about lots of things.” He huffs, turning his gaze down to his legs.
“Like?”
“Like…us.” He answers, face solid.
“What about us?” You hesitate with a trembling voice.
“Well, more like how there isn’t an us.” Niall mumbles, voice gravelly. “To everyone else, anyway.” He breathes, trying a smile but with no avail. The sight delivers a brutal sting to your heart.
“Niall…”
“I know we can’t tell anybody; I know.” He rushes out before you could remind him. “But shit, can we at least act like they do when you’re here?” Your lips part, but fail to generate the right words. “Because right now it kind of seems like I don’t exist when Ryan calls and—and when I ask about your day first but he interrupts, it seems like I can’t get a sound out of you after about it. And damnit, Y/N, I want to hear about it! All of it! And having to listen through the walls just to know you’re okay…”
“Yeah?” You whisper.
“I see what everybody else does. And I don’t like it. Not one bit.” You nod, biting your lip to hold back tears much like Niall was doing judging by his crackling voice. The only reason you really spilled your guts to Ryan was that he was in the same exact position you were in, so he would understand you the most. But that was not entirely true. Because right in front of you sat Niall, who was hiding just as much as you were for the same exact reasons.
“I’m…I didn’t know you felt that way.”
“Yeah,” Niall sniffs, “who could blame ya? Ya never have time to ask.”
“And that’s not right.” You shake your head, bringing your body up to straddle his lap. After swinging a bent leg over both of his, and situating yourself over his thighs, you stare into his eyes with a shameful gaze. “It should never be like that. I should tell you about my day, and ask you about yours and…I’m sorry, Niall. I’m so sorry I haven’t.”
“It’s okay—” He tilts his head down, but your hand grabs a hold of his chin scraggly with hair and lifts it back up.
“No, it’s not.” You decree. “To be honest, the reason I never really talk about it is because…I thought it wouldn’t matter to you?” At your admission, Niall’s eyes bulge. The feeling of his warm hands flying to your hips calms both of you to an extent.
“Why would ya think that, love?”
“Wouldn’t you be annoyed hearing me rant about some guy people think I’m dating?” Niall nods his head, understanding your point.
“I suppose…but I’d be angry with you. I’d be on your side.” Niall guarantees with a firm squeeze to your sides. It makes a giggle bubble up from your throat, and a smile crawl up to his lips at the sound of it resounding against his bedroom walls. After bringing his hands in yours and lacing your fingers together, you say, “I’m sure you would. You’d hold me…pleasure me…sing me to sleep.” You smirk, watching Niall grow flush beneath you at his noticeable methods of affection.
“Ryan can’t do any of that.” You bite your lip.
“Damn right he can’t! You’re mine.” Niall looks you up and down, pulling your chest closer to his.
“And I’ll start taking that into consideration more. Now, how about I pleasure you this time to start?” You raise your eyebrows.
“I like the sound of that.” His hand starts to reach up to comb through your hair, but the boisterous rings of your phone interfere once again. Niall heaves a breath and sits back, all while you roll your eyes and reach out for the phone.
“Hey, Ryan.” Niall looks up at you, expecting in less than a second to be off of his lap. But he is rather surprised at the feeling of your hand reaching up to tug the loose sweats down off his waist. “You mind if we talk tomorrow? My boyfriend and I are kind of in the middle of something.” You answer with a smirk, watching Niall’s eyes grow right before you. Ryan’s screams of puzzlement could be heard by Niall as you dragged the phone away from your ear and ended the call. And soon, your grip made its way back to Niall’s boxers with a devious smirk on your lips.
“Now, where were we?”
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