#*/fill this empty space : promos/

[love-toxin]

Angelface who gets herself ‘stuck’ in places, so pornstar!steve not only has a nice surprise but gets something good to film <3

im so normal about this i swear

(cws: pornstar!daddy dom!steve, f!plus size!angelface, modern au, stuckage, breeding, loud sex, creampie, daddy kink, a bit of roleplay, steve's a chubby chaser.)

Just a little more wiggling, and--

"There!"

You giggle to yourself, proud of your handiwork as you slide yourself right through the space between the two shelves on the empty bookcase. Steve had bought it as an indulgent IKEA purchase last time you were there, and though he'd put it together as diligently as he's built nearly all the other furniture in your new apartment, it has yet to be filled with books or records or anything else you wanna fill it with, thus it's sat empty in your living room for a month or two at least.

Perfect for your purposes. With Steve raking in most of the money with his rather lucrative business, he's given you free reign to do pretty much whatever you fancy--so, as payment for taking you on trips and giving you gifts and just generally being the best boyfriend in the world, you figure it's the least you can do to help him with some.....content.

Right on time as you call his name, Steve's footsteps come thundering down the hall to respond to your pleas for help, an inquisitive "oh?" burning your face with warmth as you rub your thighs together at the sound of his voice. It always gets low like that when he sees something he likes, and your beautifully round ass hanging out in plain view as you're bent inside the shelf is one of his favourites, especially with those pudgy thigh-high clad legs brought up so you're kneeling on the carpet, too.

Tap, tap, tap tap. Click. You know the sounds of Steve unlocking his phone, and you smile to yourself out of sight as he draws closer, and you know he's got his camera up.

"Reaching for something back there, baby?" He queries, and you can feel that chuckle when you whine and make a show of kicking your feet, toes pushing against the rug and pulling those socks taut around your skin just like he likes it.

"I'm stuck! Please, help me, daddy...." You make sure to do a little wiggling too, just to taunt him that much more. Steve loves your figure, you know that, and it's funny cause almost all his movies and even the casual content he posts to social media--purely the videos he does in collaboration with other pornstars--features primarily smaller women, skinny girls, petite girls, that sort of thing. It's not like he hates working with thin people, not at all, he can get off just fine either way. He's definitely the type that isn't picky, considering he's even tried out some stuff with other guys for a couple promo videos, and he thoroughly enjoyed it in that surprisingly innocent way. "It's guy time, baby!" He'd tease you, showing off his favourite scenes because he was proud, and cause he was hoping you'd get a little excited seeing him get his face cummed all over.

But something about your chubby thighs, your tummy, your boobs, your arms, your back, your hips--it just drives him crazy in a way that he doesn't really show in his other videos. And that's why the few that he's posted with you as his co-star end up doing so well, whether other people like your figure or not. Their opinions don't really matter, after all--cause Steve just loses his mind when you put on a show for him, he goes feral whenever he fucks you, and in the end he usually forgets the camera's even there when he gets wrapped up in making you cum your brains out.

"Aww, poor thing. Trapped just for me?" He slaps your hip, watching with rapt attention as your ass ripples and you squeak in response, already unable to keep your whines back when he starts massaging those soft cheeks through your thin shorts. "That's too bad, bubbles. You know how daddy gets when you bend over like this." You can hear him getting on his knees behind you, his hand possessively refusing to leave your skin even as he's moving around to get comfortable.

"Look at that. Already got daddy excited," He breathes, his hard cock straining his sweatpants and nestling right up against your cunt--begging to be let in even through the layers of fabric that separate you two. "Sorry, honey, you're just too cute for daddy to resist."

He tears those shorts down your legs, making a show of ripping them right off your body with only one hand available. But he leaves your panties, dirties them with a bit of your wetness as he rubs his fingertips up and down your slit over them, before tugging them aside so they're out of the way. "Never get tired of this view," Steve sighs, stroking your folds delicately with his thumb as he holds your panties in place, and groaning as he watches you tremble and leak all down his palm.

"Need my cock, baby? Want daddy to fill you up?" Those words dizzy you, and you push your hips back as far as they'll go for his thumb to dip inside you, earning yourself a groan from your boyfriend and a pleasant shiver up your back.

"Need it, daddy, need daddy to breed me..." For that needy plea, you're rewarded with another hard slap.

"That's my good fuckin' girl. Honest girls get all the cum they can take, don't they, bubbles?" With one quick shup and the sound of his sweats being slid down and kicked off each leg, Steve's cock is freed and bounces softly for the camera, before he aims his phone down and moans out your nickname again as he slowly starts pressing himself inside. Wet, soft, warm--you're so easy to enter, but you're always impossible to leave.

"Fuck--breed you so much, n' you're still so tight-" Steve gasps as he breaches a deeper spot, watching intently as inches upon inches disappear inside you, all while your girlish cries serenade him in the background of his slick cock spreading you open. "Show daddy's fans how good you take me, how tight your pussy stretches just to fit my fat fucking dick--fuck, show em how much you love your daddy." He babbles, high off the clench of your cunt as he starts off hard, and plows you into the wobbling shelf at a pace that he knows you're gonna love. He grabs the top of it with one hand, bicep flexing as he grips the wood paneling and films your ass buckling under his rough thrusts.

"Shit....m' addicted to this pussy..." Steve grunts out in a low rumble, voice coming off even deeper in the recording. It's one of the things he's fawned over for, and rightfully so. "Need a mouthful of it when I'm done barebacking you, sweet girl. Gotta taste you, gonna lick up my cum when it's all mixed with yours."

"Daddy!" You shriek as he suddenly fucks you faster, a surge of energy flowing through him when he watches how hard your ass is jiggling as it meets his hips. It's an endless rhythm, a clapping sound that he gets so high off of and could serve as a drug for him all on its own.

"That's right, baby. Say my name. Let em know I'm slamming your guts into fucking paste right now." Another spank comes down on you, followed by a rough grope of your ass with his newly-freed hand. "My thick little princess--my princess, got that? My chubby little bunny with her pretty little pussy, it's all mine."

You're babbling now, tummy filled with heat and butterflies and your head going white as Steve rumbles that dirty talk loud enough for you to hear. A chorus of his name and please and more get lost in your own moans and in Steve's, but your voice jerks out harder when he hits you over the cheeks again, smacking each one individually before reaching around you to stroke feverishly at your clit.

"Louder!"

Your desperate scream of his title melds with a sob that's already halfway out, throat growing hoarse as Steve pounds the breath out of your lungs and the tears springing from your eyes.

"That's my good fucking girl!" He yells right back, laughing with that sexy smugness as he throws his head back, that makes your brain go blank and your cunt cling to him on every thrust like it never wants him to pull out. "Show the world you're daddy's fucking princess, baby--cum on daddy's cock for all these pervs to stroke themselves off to it. Wishing they could fuck you like I do."

With the skilled hand of a professional entertainer, he effortlessly slides his phone underneath you two, giving the audience the perfect view of his balls beating your clit raw and your tummy rippling with the weight of his thrusts. All that's showing from the edge of the shelf are your thick thighs, your cunt, and your hips--some of Steve's favourite parts of you for his hands to roam possessively over.

"Drain these fucking balls, princess. Take it from daddy--you've been a good girl, take what you want. Take it." Steve's moans rattle you to the core, deep and rumbly and low and sexy as he pumps you so full it hurts, the softest parts of you aching as he fucks you so deep he's practically begging your womb to open so he can pound it into submission.

"Daddy! Daddy, da--f-fuck, Steve! Stevie, I'm cumming-!" You should've known that by offering this chance, you'd be paying for it before you know what's happening--and while you're definitely not gonna be on steady feet tomorrow, the blinding flash of white-hot pleasure melting your mind is completely worth it, and so is the intensity that floods through your boyfriend as Steve shudders at the feeling of you cumming around him. It's all he needs to finish cause pleasing his girl is always enough to get him there, and lucky for you, the gloriously hazy glow that comes as you ride out your end totally numbs the roughness of those last few thrusts that Steve pumps out before he's creaming you til you're completely full.

"Ohhhhh, fuck..." He drawls out, watching intently as you quiver and your pussy still flutters around his cock buried inside you. Pump after pump after pump, he watches with an open mouth and hitched breath as you milk him with each spasm of your soft walls, his cum slowly starting to dribble down your mound once he pulls out and your pussy struggles to readjust to the empty space. With a swipe of his fingers up your parted slit, he huffs out an awed breath before bringing his cum-sticky fingers to his mouth to taste you. It's so pretty, you're so pretty.

"Oh, look at that....you stay right there, bubbles. Daddy'll get you a pillow for those sore knees."

"N-Nooo....don't go...." You reach around for him in a gently growing panic, only for your boyfriend to capture your hand in his effortlessly warm one and stroke it with so much affection, so much tenderness. You feel him lean over you, reaching down for his phone to fumble with it, before there's a soft beep that signals the recording has ended and he breathes a sigh of relaxation.

"Here, camera's off, baby. You did so good for me. C'mere," He makes short work of pulling you gently out from where you've been stuck, the shelf a little more wobbly but he catches it with his hand, and makes sure you're all the way out before he lets it go. "Was it all okay? Did you have fun?" You nod in response, enjoying how warm his arms around you are and nuzzling into his bicep. "Didn't mind my dirty talk?"

"I love your dirty talk," You giggle, finally taking a deep breath and letting it go with a little sigh of pleasure.

"I'm glad." He smiles down at you, cradling you in his arms like he loves to do after any good session, no matter how gentle or rough it gets. "Y'know, doing this stuff with you....it always makes me realize how grateful I am to have you."

"Why?" You loll your head about, enjoying the heated warmth of Steve's body as he shifts to sit cross-legged, all while manhandling you carefully to keep you propped up and comfy in his lap.

"Well, when I'm working, or when we're in between shoots, I always think of you. When you're not there, I just wish so badly that you were--I just spend my whole break thinking about reading with you, or hearing you talk about your shows, or playing those terrible, terrible rounds of Mario Kart--"

"-Not my fault you suck, Stevie!" He laughs with his whole chest, the tender affirmations losing any stiff sense of tension when you can both let yourselves giggle over it. You love him so much, and you've heard those glorious words spoken on repeat--yet they never get old or stale, and they never lose the sincerity that he always manages to speak with whenever he's professing his love. Steve is just perfect, he's just.....he's Steve. "I don't care. I love watching you play, and I love that grin on your face when you smoke my ass out." He grazes your sides with his fingertips and sticks his tongue out when you bat them away, knowing he'll tickle you into a stupor if you let him get away with it. But it melts into a soft kiss that steals the rest of your breath away, his hand cradling the back of your head to keep you there and give you all his love, every iota of it poured into that one kiss that he could give you again a thousand times over.

"Well, looks like I've got a video to edit tonight." He puffs once he finally manages to break away, fingers threading through your hair to rub comforting little circles into the back of your neck. "You wanna sit in my lap while I work, bunny?"

"Clothes, or no clothes?" You tease, walking your fingers up that broad, hairy, manly chest.

"Whatever you want, bubbles. Might have to take a break or two to bend you over the desk, though." Steve whispers back, and suddenly you're in a fit of giggles again as he finally succeeds in tickling you, and brings you to the floor in a bout of laughter so he can make that pretty mouth smile so much more as he kisses away any inkling of that post-coital slump. It's never really a down when Steve's the one soothing you, anyways--and you're certain it never will be.

[blakegopnik]

THE FRIDAY PIC (from April 14) is a still from Chris Burden’s 1977 video called “Full Financial Disclosure,” now in the little survey of his 1970s works at Gagosian’s Park Avenue project space in New York.

I wrote about the show for today’s New York Times ... and if I’d had space for just a few more words, I’d have talked about a story the art historian Thomas Crow tells about a woman who asked what the hell Burden was up to with his weird projects, and he answered: “I’m just trying to make good art.” Turning “weirdness” — non-art of all kinds — into art is, as I’ve argued, the fundamental move at the origins of the entire tradition of what we call “fine art” in the West, so rather than being on the edge of that tradition, Burden is actually at its very heart. Put another way, art has “weirdness” as its natural condition.

And here’s what I wrote in the Times:

There can’t be many artists whose works are as textbook-famous and as rarely encountered as Chris Burden’s. We can’t expect to see repeats of the 1970s performances for which he was nailed to a Volkswagen Beetle or shot in the arm with a .22. He died in 2015, and even when he was living those were one-offs. But this rare Burden show presents other examples of the Angeleno’s radical works of the 1970s. They shifted the boundaries of art, which makes them now look safely “artistic” and gallery-worthy.

The show gathers several of the “relics” — Burden’s term — meant to stand for his performances: An empty display case represents “Disappearing,” a piece for which he made himself scarce for three days; a telephone and cassette recorder represent “Wiretap,” for which Burden taped calls with art dealers.

There’s also footage of Burden’s shooting and of “Bed Piece,” a well-known performance that had him lying in a gallery for 22 days.

More surprising are the one-minute “TV Commercials” that let Burden infiltrate art into broadcast TV, after buying the ad space required. One of them, “Full Financial Disclosure,” sits in Andy Warhol’s Business Art genre, revealing the numbers for Burden’s 1976 income and expenses — and for his paltry profit. In “Chris Burden Promo,” names of world-famous artists fill the TV one after another: “Leonardo da Vinci,” “Michelangelo,” “Rembrandt,” “Vincent van Gogh,” “Pablo Picasso” and then … “Chris Burden.” That final name would once have seemed a joke or wildly wishful thinking, but now it lives cozily with the others.

[bvannn]

Weekly update June 23, 2023

Getting back into the swing of work. Exhausted. I tried getting artstuff done this week.

Finished up storyboards for TRGA today* they aren’t lipsynched yet. I need to lipsynch two or three more shots I forget. Then I’ll try to doll up the puppets tomorrow, and I’d like to do a quick test for some effects as well. I’m also wanting to try actually getting and using Adobe after effects, but installing hasn’t been kind and I do have plans for effects that I can just do in animate so I’ll stick to those for now. I’ll try to make it quick, I did that one promo animation for TRG Colo this year in one day, so I can do a basic little movement in a couple hours, then screw with effects from there.

Artfight I’m a bit more worried about. I *think* I have Mikey’s refsheet done (there’s a bit of empty space but it’s probably fine because I can’t think of another aspect of his design that needs to be highlighted to fill it). I’m partway through Shaun’s refsheet, which shouldn’t be too hard since I don’t need to do all the float effects and transparency (although I’m still doing a bit since it allows me to show off more of his design). Anastasia’s thumbnail is done now and I’ll try to do her refsheet once Shaun’s is done. I’m definitely getting faster at lineart, which is good because that means I can keep my commissions cheap.

I’d love to poke music but I don’t think I’ll have time this week. I have a bunch of paperwork and stuff to mess with, plus I should fix up the puppets for TRGA. I’m a bit disorganized and a bit messy but I think I have leeway for next week being a bit slower since I was able to keep up with stuff this week. I’m still going to try stuff but I’m a bit disorganized at the moment. I’m sure I’ll be okay, though.

[promocode2204]

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[mychicsister]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Wooden Nativity Puzzle Bethlehem Jesus Mary Joseph Shepherd Wise Men Donkey.

[butlersxbirdy]

You Light My Morning Sky Part 12-A

She's Gonna Save Me Call Me Baby

Run her Hands Through my Hair

HERE IT IS! THEY'RE BACK! WE LOVE THEM!

You read that right. This is 12-A. 12-B is coming. Its just really long and I had to break it up but it's all in the same chapter.

Warnings: Ass play, spanking, angst, breakup (almost), smut, dom/sub

Austin Butler is having a no-good, awful, very bad day.

The empty bed was a reflection of his hollow heart upon opening his eyes and finding your space beside him vacant. Preparing to woo new clients for your work was a big part of the promotion he knew you wanted, but that didn’t mean he had to like waking without you when the two of you had to be on the Red Carpet that evening. Even in his most dominant state, which he could feel slipping from him like your silk nightie had slipped from his grasp in the early hours, his shyness prevailed and he preferred gearing up for an event with you.

 He also knew the stakes were higher for you this year given the stories circulating since your display of strength with the paparazzi. He had feared legal action, but thankfully your firm owns the whole building and there was clearly posted signage, so the photographers were all being charged with trespassing, but he still couldn't stop the guilt he felt for the stress he could see you were feeling. He longed to help you, but the calendars filled up around you both and although you both knew it wasn’t anyone’s fault, it weighed on you both that it had happened at all, much less that you hadn’t been able to do more than spend stolen hours here and there despite living in the same house. 

This day was no different. Unfortunately, Austin was booked to spend the day in screen tests and filming for a new cologne promo spot today, and there was no way he could get out of it. He reaches for his phone, frowning a little when he sees plenty of new messages, none of them from you, but he sent you one anyway, sending you his love, before hopping in a quick shower. His hands wander between his legs to his rapidly hardening length; the shower always reminds him of you, of your softness, of your love. He strokes his cock slowly but a little bell goes off somewhere in his brain; You didn’t ask if you could touch Mama’s cock.

He growls in frustration but stops himself from going further, and when he manages to drag his reluctant body out of the shower, his face lights up as he puts his engagement ring back on and sees a text from you.

"Miss you, love you most, Baby. The designers are dropping off our outfits today, yours is a surprise and I didn't peek at what you picked for me. You're gonna look so stunning. I'll call when I can." 

He sighs unhappily at the reminder that he does have to go out tonight, but he focuses on getting to experience his first red carpet with you since getting engaged. The Red Carpet is always a minefield that he relishes to a point. He loves the fans and is appreciative of the life he’s been given, but when he’s feeling private and dependent on his sweet Memphis Mama, it can be the worst kind of hell. However, he looks down at the ring, heavy on his left hand, and a thrill runs down his spine at the possibilities the night offers. He tries not to feel too out of sorts anymore about waking up alone, and as he rereads the text from you, and sends a reply, he can feel the ache of missing you ease a little. He gathers his scripts, then,  and heads out for the day, trying to ignore the remaining ache in his chest when he almost goes back for a goodbye kiss and remembers that you are not there for his lips to adore.

The day is not going anything as he hoped, although the rollercoaster of emotions he experienced surrounding the simple task of taking a shower should have been a clue that there was something darker dwelling beneath the surface of his heart, but Autin truly was not prepared to feel this bad. He's stumbling in and out of character, forgetting his lines, and feeling a huge wave of doubt ripping him apart at the seams. It's bleeding into everything, this empty feeling. He's sure now that not only will he never work again, but that he also will surely lose every award he gets nominated for and he will let you, Baz, his family, and Priscilla down. His swimming head pulls him back to the waters of the Thames he almost dove into, in all those lonely months in London, trying to come back to himself and thinking only of you. 

"Austin, we're trying to work with you, but we need to send out at least one decent tape today, can we do it again?' his agent, James,  asks and that's the last straw. The loneliness and pain he’s feeling all over again wells up and breaks through, tearing through his instinct for patience and sweet pleadings for another chance.

"I'm doing my best, can you fuck off?" He snaps. He immediately regrets it. The looks of shock on the faces of all in the room are enough to tell him he’s made a mistake, and he finds himself looking for warm eyes that aren’t there. "I... I'm so sorry," he stammers. They all see the shift in him and feel a change in the air. A silent agreement seems to be made among the spectators to be nice about it, and move on. The guilt threatens to eat him, but then the rage comes back and it brings him back down to earth. Against all odds and expectations he had of himself following the outburst, he's able to do two tapes. 

Still searching for absent bright eyes, Austin has an hour's break in his day before he has to be on the set for the cologne video, and he knows where he needs to go. 

"I'm sorry, again, I'm just," he sighs. "Sorry," he repeats. 

"It's alright, you got it done. These are amazing, good work," his agent replies kindly, which he appreciates. The saving grace of this day, he thinks, will be his girl and the people kind enough to help him get to her a little faster. He makes a mental note to send flowers or a gift of some kind to everyone there that day, and then he turns on his heel and practically sprints.. 

     Pulling into your work parking lot fills him with unease; cameras flash in his memory and the invasive questions ring in his ears. He looks to the passenger seat next to him, but it’s empty. He needs you. He doesn’t wanna get out of the car without your touch, your whispered words, and your fierce protection. Luckily, the door security recognizes him and escorts him to the elevator.

"Thanks, guys, I feel a lot better, you're the best," Austin says brightly, putting on a trademark brave face and bright smile, though having met him quite a few times now, they seem to know the signs. They wave him off with a chuckle and a friendly pat on the back.

"Go get your girl, man, don't worry about it." 

He grins and hurries into the elevator, impatient to get to you; pacing the floor of the moving elevator, counting the numbers, up, up, up, and then the ding before he is released into a familiar space. 

Between your beauty and your thunder, Austin always says, he will never lose you in a crowd. This is the source of the private, almost naughty smile on his face when he hears you before he sees you; you're running a meeting about the event tonight and even with your hair in curlers in preparation, you look powerful and stunning. Your boss comes out of her office and sees the way he's watching you.

"You feeling okay, Austin?" She asks softly and he nods, giving her a quick hello hug. 

"Yeah, just wanted to see her. But I don't wanna make this worse, I know she's busy," he sighs and she shakes her head. 

"Go wait in her office, I'll grab her," she assures him and he's about to argue but he catches a glimpse of you and he blushes and nods, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Thanks," he huffs. Making his way to your office, he recognizes Sarah, one of your coworkers. 

"Hey, Sarah," he grins and she gives him a cold look.

"You don't know when to quit," she smirks. He frowns.

"What?"

"She was fine, you know. She never missed work, never got in fights, never got caught flipping off paparazzi in Memphis, and never got good people so jealous that they jeopardized the firm. Just go, Austin. She was fine before you just had to tell her you love her. I think we all miss that," she says coldly, and turns on her heel to go. 

The empty feeling in Austin's chest spreads and he flees to the elevator, leaving as fast as possible.

The meeting is almost wrapped, which is good because you’re ready to take your hair out of the uncomfortable rollers and go home to Austin. Your boss pops her head into the conference room with a smile on her face at just the right time.

"Someone's here," she smiles, and you look up, eyes bright and full of hope.

"Is it..?" You ask and she grins.

"The prince, I'm pretty sure," she says quietly and you nod, excusing yourself quickly and going to your office. It's empty. You're confused, and getting worried, but you see Sarah watching you with a smug smile, and you know instantly what she must have done.

"What did you say to him?" You ask quietly.

"Just the truth. And you know you can't leave until everything's done," she hisses and goes back to the meeting, leaving you stunned.

You try to call Austin multiple times, but he doesn't pick up, and you text him.

"I don't know what that bitch said to you, but you're my world, Baby. Whatever it was, you know I can fix it. I love you most." 

Austin is fuming. His anger and sadness thankfully don't end in a car wreck, but he's shaking and even more unfocused than he was when he left home this morning. Having no earthly idea how he made it to the shoot in one piece, but he does by some miracle, having no memory of the drive.  He pulls into the marked space for him and is escorted into hair and makeup immediately, on autopilot as he smiles kindly and greets everyone. 

He somehow makes it through the shoot. He's no longer distracted; he's numb.

It would be best for you if he'd never said a word. 

It would be better for you not to love him. 

He could do nothing about the fact that he's ruining your life until he grows a pair and leaves you like a decent man.

He could do nothing about your suffering, but he could knock this video out of the park.

Luckily, there are lots of brooding stares involved, and his mood puts him in the perfect mindset to deliver on that. Luckily it’s a solo shoot; his arms ache to wrap around you, which the director claims portrays loneliness to perfection, but really he’s just thanking his lucky stars there isn’t a model crawling all over him. He's fully ready to be a brooding dream boy that you love so much, and thankfully they love his work. 

The praise feels empty, as your warm eyes don’t accompany the kind words, and when he's finished, he quickly gets changed back into his comfort clothes and heads for home. 

"Can I talk to you?" You ask Jenn, your boss, stiffly, after getting what Sarah said to your Austin out of someone who overheard. She nods and ushers you in. You sit and you look at her.

"What's going on, girly?" She asks you and you bite back tears.

"This isn't working. This is the second employee in a year who's tried to ruin me and Austin. It's completely unreasonable," your voice is cold but locked up with unshed tears, like water dripping on snow. "Austin is thinking of leaving me right now. Don't argue, we both know it's true."

"Yeah," she sighs in defeat. "I know. I’ll talk to her. Should we keep you two on the DL for a while?" She asks and you shake your head.

  "I have some vacation time, and some paid leave in my contract. I think I'm gonna take it. If at the end of that time you decide keeping me isn't worth it, then that's okay. But I need to step away from this environment that's constantly trying to hurt me and Austin," you say firmly. "Tonight's event is my last for a while. Everything's ready for tonight, I'll see you there," you stand and walk out, trembling with the shock of what you had just done, and with the fear of what Austin was thinking. 

Austin is laying on the couch, surrounded by scribbles of drafts of a letter to you. His heart was still beating in his chest, but he had no idea how such a shattered broken thing could still function. You were his girl, meant to be his forever, and yet you'd probably be better off without him. 

When he came home, he fully intended to write a letter and pack his things. He fully intended to leave you despite his heart breaking in his chest, but the second he sat down he knew he didn't have it in him to go with grace. 

As he worked through his thoughts, phrases kept sticking out and coming back to him. As depressed as he was, and as needy as he was for attention, the letter that was intended to be a loving, if absolutely heart-wrenching goodbye, turned into his wedding vows. His sadness has turned to rage again; how dare anyone think they could keep him from you, the love of his life who he crossed oceans twice over to find? 

He couldn't stop writing about all the things that made you perfect together, and the fact that Sarah decided to try to interfere was one of those reasons, in the end. He knew you had nothing to do with it, and he knew how far you’d go to protect him. Almost as far as he’d go to protect you. He was vaguely aware that writing his vows was a coping mechanism until he could see your face and hear your voice. Then the guilt bubbled up once more, like acid in his throat. He shouted at his agent. He had misbehaved. And he still had to confess to you what he had done during his audition. The anxiety bubbles in his chest and he waits for you to come home and berate him for ruining everything. 

When you walk into the house, it's barely lit, and Austin lays, despondent, on the couch.

"Baby," you exhale like a prayer as you step toward him quietly, kicking off your sandals and approaching slowly.

"Mama," he sighs, looking lost and vacant. He's not even crying. He's beyond tears. You look at the papers around him and you gasp when you pick one up and read it; you know a breakup letter when you see one. He writes of longing endlessly, but being willing to suffer so that you can be the woman he loves, even if you have to do it without him. There's a knife in your heart and you look at him. You knew it was coming. Austin felt like you weren’t right for each other, if people’s reactions to your relationship were anything to go by, but you want to take one last shot at preserving your love.

"Baby, what's going on? You're breaking up with me? Because of Sarah?" You ask, shaking as you stroke his face as you try and fail not to cry.  "We're Austin and Mama... we don't cave to that shit. We're in love, aren't we?" You sniffle, looking into his puffy red eyes.

"I thought I had to, she," he pauses and sits up. "Wait, you know what she said?" He asks, face in his hands. You gently lift his delicate features from the harsh touch of his frustrated hands and bump your nose gently against his.

"Yes," you whisper. "I know. And I took a leave of absence until the firm can figure out why two employees have come after you in the space of a year. It's okay, we're gonna be fine, you're not going anywhere," you smile and he blushes.

"I know," he grins a little through the tears. "I got mad halfway through trying to let you down easy, realized there's no way I can ever let you go or stop loving you, so the breakup letter turned into angry ranting, and now I think I'm almost done with my vows," he sniffles, the blush still present on his cheeks. You can't help but laugh and pull him close, and when you move away from him to move from a crouched position to sitting on the couch next to him, he gets in your lap and wraps himself around you.

"No more moving away from me, Mama," he insists and you smile at him adoringly. "Which should be easy because you quit your job," he smiles smugly. "Don't think I didn't catch that detail." You grin and kiss him.

"I'd do all that and more for my Prince," you whisper and he rests his forehead against yours. There's still something off about his energy, but you don't press him about it. 

"Really?" He whispers, and you nod. "I'd never ask, Mama, you know that," he frowns and you kiss him.

"I know, baby. Good boy," you hum and he frowns deeper, settling back and looking away from you.

"That's the thing, Mama, Sarah wasn't the only thing that happened," he chews the inside of his cheek. "I wasn't  a good boy today." 

"Well, what do you mean, Little Prince? You're always so good," you ask, giving him a chance to speak for himself.

"I snapped at people. I forgot to eat and lay on your pillow for comfort like I'm supposed to if I wake up all out of sorts. I didn't before my screen tests, and I was really mean. I wasn't getting anything done right, they were right to be firm. Then I drove while I was upset, I almost left you without talking to you first, and I didn't get you any pictures of the cologne shoot like you wanted. I wasn't a good boy today," he confesses in a blur of short breaths and stuttered words, and you have to try not to cry simply at how cute he is. None of these make you a bad boy, you want to say, but you hold back.

"I see. And what do you think would help you not do that again?" You ask thoughtfully, rubbing his back.

"Mama, we've never done this before, but I think I need it," he frowns and tugs at his shirt nervously. "I want a consequence." He doesn't look you in the eye when he says it and you nod.

"Okay. We can talk about that. But if you want a consequence, you have to look me in the eye and say it," your words are quiet but he hears that you mean them and he looks you in the eye as he takes your hand and places it on his cheek.

"Mama, I was bad today, and I need a consequence." 

That's all you need to hear before you're on board wholeheartedly.

"Okay, thank you for telling me. What's a fitting consequence, baby? What would help you not do this again and feel secure that Mama forgives you and loves you?" You ask, giving him way more room since this is his first time being punished since you used getting waxed as a way to withhold sex. He takes a deep breath and looks at you, biting his lip as if he’s afraid of the words that just won’t come out, but the request tumbles from his lips anyhow.

"Mama, will you spank me?" He asks, looking into your eyes. You feel a wave of some unnamable feeling well up inside you and you shake your head.

"I thought we said no physical consequences, Prince," you look into his longing eyes. 

"I know, Mama. But we said that a long time ago, and we said it because when you brought up consequences, the first thing out of my mouth was 'don't hit me, as if you would," he smiles a little, and you kiss his forehead.

"I'm glad you know I never would, Baby, you looked like you thought I was going to hit you," you blush and he rolls his eyes.

"Well I don't know, you wouldn't watch 50 shades with me, so I had to go looking on my own and there's a lot of hitting in Mama dom porn. I was fed misinformation," he chuckles and you can't help but laugh with him.

"You seem to have done okay despite the lies and propaganda," you tease and he nuzzles into you.

"I'm NOT calling you Mommy," he mumbles and you gag.

"There's only one Baby Boy who will ever call me Mommy," you say before you can stop yourself and he freezes for a moment, eyes dark as he pulls you into a heated kiss, hand on your stomach.

"Don't distract me," he rasps in a hoarse moan. You nod and keep him grounded with a firm hand on his chest. 

"No distractions, baby. I'm sorry. Let's talk about this," you take deep breaths. He nods, running his fingers over his lips slowly. 

"I felt awful all day. I behaved badly. I don't feel good about it and I want to be punished. Punishments show that Mamas care right? They're not supposed to be too painful or be violent," he says uncertainly but with an eagerness to learn.

“Yes. Absolutely," you say proudly, encouraged to know that he grasps the concept of being punished as a sub. 

"And when Mama knows how to do it, spanking isn't like violent hitting. It... I hope it will ground me. I think it will, and I'd like to try," he explains, and he folds his hands between the two of you, eyes darting to your stomach but otherwise showing great restraint.

"You really wanna try this, Baby?" You ask, and he drops to his knees, bowing his head. 

"I've been so bad, I need Mama to put me in my place," he whines and it hits you in a shock wave that rocks you to your very core; your boy doesn't just want this. He needs it. 

“You need me to own you," you say slowly. "You're not sad about what Sarah said. You were, but you-" you huff out a little giggle. "You're mad as all hell. You want a sore ass from Mama's hand at the event tonight."

He nods, his whole body trembling. 

"Mama, put me in my place," he asks again and you nod.

"Strip, you naughty little thing," you command and he lets out a filthy moan as he follows your command. 

Once he's naked, you press your legs together and beckon him forward. 

"Over my lap, Prince."

He lays himself, face down, on your lap. His half-hard cock presses against your thigh and you bite back a moan of your own. His face presses into the couch and you take a moment to stroke his hair, and then you run your hands teasingly over the soft flesh of his ass. He is, at every angle, stunning. He shivers under your touch and his hips arch to press himself to your hands.

"Okay, we're starting easy, baby. I'll give you 5 spanks. You will count and thank me for each one. You will not cum until I say so, and you'd better behave because we don't have a lot of time before we have to get ready to hit the Red Carpet," you instruct calmly and he nods.

"Use your words, Baby Boy," you command, and he whines.

"Yes Mama, I can do that. I can be a good boy," he promises and you smile.

"Good boy. We're gonna start now," you warn him. You rub his ass gently a few more times, before bringing your hand down sharply on to the soft round flesh. 

"One! Thank you Mama!" He whimpers. His cock is stiffening, and he already sounds wrecked. You bring your hand down again, harder this time, and he moans, trying not to rut against you. 

"Two! Thank you Mama!" He cries and you feel wetness between your legs. You spank him again, even harder, but in an area that isn't already turning a pleasant shade of pink. He squirms a little, and his moan is choked and desperate.

"Three! Th.. thank you, Mama!" He keens and you gently pet the soft skin of his thighs before bringing your hand on his ass twice in quick succession. 

"Oh! Four! Five! Thank you for my spanks, Mama, thank you so much..." he sobs, trying not to roll his hips on you. You rub his sore flesh gently before guiding him to sit up on your lap. He curls up against you, resting his head on your chest. His breathing is even and he reaches up to touch your face, and when he looks up at you he looks so peaceful.

"The thanking you thing," he breathes, eyelids fluttering. "I meant it. I feel so much better," he sighs. You give him a tender kiss and take him in. He is truly a sight to behold; hard but somehow paying no mind, skin glowing, eyes shining. 

"Baby, I have to tell you, you look really beautiful like this," you smile at him and he kisses you softly.

"I feel beautiful," he whispers and you feel yourself getting choked up.

"Oh, Austin," you whisper, and he nuzzles in close. You hold each other for a while, losing track of anything but each other's touch, until Austin's ass brushes against the couch and he winces. You take that as your cue that he's ready for the next part.

"Can you stand, my love? Here comes the good part," You nuzzle him, and he nods. 

"I think so. Hold me, though?" He asks and you kiss his cheek.

"Of course. Good boy," you praise, and he blushes as he stands, holding your hands. His legs are surprisingly steady, but he still holds tight to you as you get him up the stairs. You consciously avoid brushing against his erection, and he pulls you in close when you reach the bed. You back away a little, and make eye contact so he knows you mean business.

"We're gonna start getting ready in a second, baby, but why don't you go ahead and lay face down on the bed for me," you help him lie face down, placing a pillow under his hips. He lets out a whimper and humps the pillow a little.  "I know, you're so hard, Prince. It's gonna be okay, we're gonna do something about that, but not yet so keep those hips still," you assure him with a brush of your fingers through his hair. He whines and rolls his hips once against the pillow just to get comfortable and you grab the soothing lotion you keep for such occasions. You come back to sit with him, and you gently lay a hand on his lower back, rubbing his muscles a little.

"Can I touch you where it hurts?" You ask, and he smiles at you, turning his head.

"Yeah, Mama, you gonna make it better?" He asks and you lean down to kiss him.

"Promise, baby, I'll make it all better," you assure him. You warm the lotion on your fingers before gently applying it to his plump red cheeks. He hisses at first and you keep going but ease up on the pressure you apply, taking great care to listen for sounds of displeasure. He hums contentedly as it starts to work, and you apply more of the lotion. You didn't realize that a drop of the lotion was on the edge of your hand until Austin stiffens and makes a little whining sound. You look down and you swallow audibly. The drop of lotion slipped off your hand and landed between his cheeks. The heat in between your thighs makes you squirm, and the low whine that comes out of Austin’s mouth drives you wild. You’ve never come close to approaching this aspect of submission with him, and while it doesn’t necessarily bother you, it intimidates you. You’re his Mama. He needs you in this moment, and yet you officially have no earthly idea where this day is going.

[terralivedarchive]

new tags i

[astralwanderess]

                                                    Starring:                              Astralwanderess​ as Donna Andrews                           Labarsenal as  Jolene & Joseph Warvey

                       Now Available on Videocassette 

[justice4canyonmoon]

harry x youtuber/influencer y/n ? pls idk but i am obsessed with like famous y/n😂love your work❤️

Hi!!! I ended up going with YouTuber y/n (specifically a beauty guru) because it's an area I'm slightly more familiar with!!! I don't wear makeup, though, so I'm not totally sure how well it turned out, but I had fun writing it either way!!! I hope you enjoy it!!!!

Warnings: none!! just fluff!!!

WC: 1.3k

Ever since your 7 million subscribers had discovered that Harry Styles was your boyfriend, they had been begging you to have him appear in a video. It wasn’t that easy, though; he was constantly busy, between tours, recording, promo, and filming movies, it was difficult for you to snag a moment where you could sit him down and slather makeup on his face. But your first makeup line had just come out, and, of course, you had to make a video to show it off. Harry took a little bit of time off to come to your release party the night before, and he agreed to appear in the video you were filming the following day before jetting off to tour rehearsals.

“I’m sure it’ll be fun, lovie. Jus don’ ruin this pretty face.”

You rolled your eyes, “Won’t be that tough to ruin.”

“Hey! What’s tha’ supposed t’ mean?” he exclaimed with a pout on his face.

You giggled as you prepped your filming space, making sure that the lighting was perfect, the cameras were in the right places, and the makeup was placed on the table in front of you.

He grabbed your wrist, making you stop in your tracks.

“What?”

“Nothin,” he said with a smile, “‘m just really proud of yeh. Got y’ own makeup line and everything. You’re amazin. ‘M sorry ‘m not around more to celebrate your achievements, but I am incredibly proud of yeh. Always.”

You felt your cheeks grow warm, “Thank you, Harry. You’re such a sweetheart.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his cheeks before walking over to the camera, “Ready, babe?”

He grinned, “Yeah. Can I make a dramatic entrance?”

You rolled your eyes again, “If you’d like.”

Harry settled himself under the table, giving you a thumbs up when he was ready. You turned on the camera and walked over to him, sitting in one of the empty chairs. When you saw the red light on your camera flicker on, it was go time.

“Hello, my lovelies! It’s time for another makeup tutorial, and today is gonna be a special one!”

You brandished your eyeshadow palette and gestured to the other products lying on the table, “I’m going to be using products from my first ever makeup line, Ice Queen!”

The palette in your hands was filled with cool blues, greens, and purples, as well as neutral colors and a bit of sparkle. The packaging was blue and silver on the foundation to the concealer to the lipsticks and everything in between!

“I’m so excited to finally release this! I’ve always wanted my own makeup brand, and now I have one, with products that are cruelty free, vegan, and just plain awesome! But for such a momentous occasion, I’m not going to be doing makeup on myself. Instead, I’ve brought in a special guest! Would you like to introduce yourself?”

It was then that Harry made his presence known. He popped up from behind the table with a cheesy grin and waved at the camera.

As he settled into his seat, he said, “Hi! ‘M Harry Styles, singer, actor, entrepreneur, and makeup model.”

You sighed, “And drama queen.”

“‘M a musician, darling. We always have a flair for the dramatics. Don’t you beauty Youtubers also have a lot of drama?” he quipped.

“We do, but I’ve always tried to stay out of it. They don’t call me ‘The Unproblematic Queen’ for nothing,” you replied.

“Tha’s true. Y’ literally the nicest person ‘ve ever met. Lucky I snatched yeh up, t’ be honest.”

Your cheeks grew warm at that, “You’re too sweet, babe.”

It was his turn to kiss you on the cheek, “So are yeh, m’ love.”

“Anyway, we should probably start with the meat of the video,” you said.

Harry clasped his hands together, “Yeah, baby, make me look pretty!”

“You don’t need much help with that,” you flirted.

He blushed a little, but still managed a reply, “And you say I’m the flirty one.”

“I have my moments,” you quipped, “anyway, first we’ve got to put on foundation. Since Harry’s whiter than a ghost-”

“Hey!”

“-we’ll be using one of the lightest shades, but there are 60 total to choose from! We’re all about inclusivity here, and everyone should have a foundation that matches their skin tone!” you explained as you opened the liquid foundation.

“It’s cold,” Harry whined as you began applying the foundation with a beauty sponge.

“Stop squirming,” you scolded, “this is why I only put makeup on myself.”

He pouted, “But I like when you put makeup on me.”

You couldn’t help but smile, “I like it, too, but only when you stay still.”

Harry willed himself to keep still throughout the use of the foundation, concealer, and blush painted across his features. You two threw in plenty of jokes and teasing that you knew your viewers would enjoy when the video came out. Sharing in this moment with Harry really was special to you; you loved bringing him into your world just as much as he loved bringing you into his when you went on tour with him.

“Okay, now for eyeshadow! I’m really excited to make looks with this palette because blue is by far my favorite color. Let’s see what we can do.”

You dusted silver in the corner of the lid, followed by blue more toward the center and black at the edges. You finished the eyes by sweeping black eyeliner at the bottom of the lid, highlight at the corner to accent the silver, and black mascara on Harry’s already annoying long lashes. You also added highlight to his nose and his cheeks, making him sparkle.

“So now all we need is a lip color. I feel like using this beautiful metallic blue.”

“Blue lips? Tha’ sounds kind of weird,” Harry questioned.

You shook your head as you uncapped the lip gloss, “Not weird at all! People wear ‘weird’ lipstick colors a lot now. I think you’ll look great.”

“Okay. I trust y’ judgement, Beauty Guru.”

You smiled as you applied the gloss to his pretty lips. Soon, they were coated in blue, and your work was done.

“And I think this look is complete! You wanna take a look, Har?”

He nodded, “Yeah! Wanna see if I look like an ice queen!”

You giggled as you pulled out the mirror, allowing him to take a look.

“Oh, this is really cool! I actually really like the blue lip! Y’ so talented, baby!”

You giggled again at the compliment, “Thank you, baby! I’m glad you like it! So, I think that’s it for today! Thanks to Harry for being a wonderful model, and thanks to all of you for making it possible for me to finally have my own makeup brand! Ice Queen will be out in beauty stores across the world, so make sure to keep an eye out for it! I’ll catch you all in the next one!”

You and Harry both waved goodbye to the camera before you got up and stopped recording.

“Now for the fun part: editing.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Don’ yeh get someone else t’ do it?”

“Usually,” you said, “but he’s got the flu, and I’m not about to put that on him. So, I’m going to do this one myself.”

“Can I help?” he asked.

You agreed, and the two of you sat down to edit. It was honestly really fun having Harry around to help, and he gave some good suggestions! You didn’t quite finish it that day, but you definitely made some good headway. Unfortunately, Harry had to leave for rehearsals.

He gave you a tight hug, “Today was so fun! Thank yeh f’ lettin me be a part of y’ video.”

You smiled, squeezing him back equally as tightly, “Thank you for being a part of it. I love you, Harry.”

“I love yeh too, baby. I’ll see you again soon.”

Harry pressed a quick, yet sweet, kiss to your lips before heading out the door. A few days later, the video was ready to post. It quickly became your most viewed video yet. Not only was the makeup look stunning, but your viewers loved the chemistry between you and Harry. You definitely needed to have him in another video.

[kopawz]

that new promo art is so cute! :D weird how much empty space there was on the right though. i feel like somebody could have filled that in?

[imjustboredguys]

Like Dewdrops - Kit/Ty

Short fanfic inspired by a comic by @toka-sketch

(I was basically bullied into writing this by @kieran-lovebot and @ithurielkeepsgettingkidnapped, so you have them to thank)

(By the way it’s not very good)

(Read at your own risk)

(I’m really bad at self-promo, if you couldn’t tell.)

If I could gather all the tears I spilled for you, they would cluster like dewdrops and form an ocean.

"Kit!"

As soon as his name left Ty's lips--it seemed as if Ty's lips were made to speak his name--Kit turned. His golden hair was damp, weighed down by the moisture that accumulated between its fine strands. Yet still it gleamed like the sun, bright against the dark background of the night. His eyes were half-hidden by the heavy locks that fell in front of them, their blue light as piercing as a sharpened sapphire.

If only your eyes could carry my ocean; but they are too alive to carry the burden of something so hopeless.

"Ty?"

Somehow, Ty was in Kit's arms. His hands clutched at Ty's shirt, and Ty buried his own into the soft fabric on Kit's back. He could feel the warmth of his skin, the solid shape of his shoulders, the slight tremble of his body. He clung on to Kit, the way he'd never thought to before. He should have held him at every chance he got, held him closer than he'd ever held anyone.

If I'd known we couldn't have infinity, I would have kept you with me and never let you leave.

They were on the ground: Ty had knocked Kit over in his haste. But who wouldn't be hasty when the thing they had wanted and had and needed and lost was right back in front of them, found again? Who wouldn't rush to snatch it up and make sure it was real, to claim it for their own?

Ty had been so quick to run to Kit that he hadn't noticed the flush on his cheekbones, the tangles in his hair, the ash and charcoal smudged on his bare skin. Ty wanted to say something, to do something, to tell Kit all the thoughts he'd had, all the times he lay thinking about him. The regrets and the realizations that had hit him like a crushing gravity since Kit had gone lay on the tip of his tongue. Ty longed to let them spill out, but for the first time, he was afraid that he would say the wrong thing to Kit.

If you would hold me as tightly as I hold on to you, you would understand everything without me saying it.

"What's wrong?"

Kit drew back from Ty as he spoke, and reached his hand up to Ty's head. He threaded his fingers into Ty's hair. Warmth spread through Ty. He closed his eyes and relaxed into Kit's hand, snuggling closer as Kit's fingers wove the dark strands away from Ty's forehead. The corners of Ty's mouth lifted into a soft smile. Affection beat through his body like blood through his veins. He could only think of how gentle Kit's hand was, how comforting his presence was, how he wanted to stay like this for as long as he could. What would happen if he curled up right here, with Kit beside him, and they stayed there, and he didn't have to worry about anything, and he would be happy with Kit and Kit with him? He opened his eyes a crack and gazed fondly up at Kit.

If I could make you understand how you make me feel, if you could see the stars in your own eyes as I stare into them, when would you get bored and leave?

"It's nothing."

Kit drew his hand back suddenly. The absence of it was enough to snap Ty out of his stupor and open his eyes fully. Kit was crouching on the wet cement, his head bent over and his face stuffed into his arms. Was he okay? Was he injured, or cold? What did he need? The bit of Kit's face that Ty could see was pale, and his eyes, peeking out from under his arm, seemed distant and as sharp as the tip of a needle. Ty wanted to comfort him, to reach a hand out and make the tension in his muscles ease with a touch. The look in Kit's eyes stopped him when his hand was halfway there. Confusion stirred in Ty's stomach.

"Kit?"

If happiness was not so easy to lose and not so difficult to gain, we would have it all and I would never worry about you.

"Hey, Kit."

Ty let his arm drape over his knees and hugged them to his chest. He grinned dopily and pressed his face to the crack between his knees. A giddy feeling ran through him, like when he watched small puppies chase each other around with a carefree joy. The only time Ty felt like that was around Kit. With a small sound, Kit lifted his head and looked up. His whole face was red, and Ty could feel his cheeks burning, too, as he drank in the sight of Kit. Energy seemed to be rolling off of him in waves, making the blue of his eyes jump out, the movement of his throat as he swallowed, the breath escaping his nose. Ty's smile and that giddy feeling turned into something deeper, an emotion so intense, compelling him, and he couldn't stop himself when he reached out again.

If I could control myself around you, how much pain would we have evaded, how many blades could have been turned away from us?

"Christopher."

It was barely a whisper, a rush of air, as light as Ty's hand on Kit's face, cradling his cheek, his chin, pressing against his chapped lips. Kit's eyes were fixed on Ty's face, round and blue, magnified by unspilled tears. His brow was drawn in, his features forming an almost worried expression. But why would he be worried? There was nothing wrong, nothing to fear. Just him and Ty.

If we could run away, how soon would it be before I drove you back?

"I'm so happy to have you."

Ty leaned closer to Kit until their foreheads brushed together. A sense of surety and calm settled over Ty. This was right, this was how things were supposed to be, this was how things would always be. Kit's face in Ty's hand, his palm on Ty's sleeve, his lips so close that Ty could feel where the air was stirred between them. Ty's heart was beating so fast in his chest that he knew Kit could feel it.

If you have this effect on me now, how will it feel when you split me apart like a fallen branch?

"Really?"

The word barely registered in Ty's mind. He was too focused on Kit, on everything about him. He shifted his head infinitesimally closer, closer, closer, until there was barely a centimeter between their faces.

If I can finally know you like this, maybe I will be able to think straight.

And then suddenly Ty was being thrown back against a wall, and Kit's hands were on his shoulders. The force with which Ty's head hit the brick reverberated through his body. Kit's fists, far from gentle, as they had been before, were digging into Ty's shoulders, his arms, as stiff and straight as arrows, pinning Ty against the wall. Kit's back was curved, as if his body was bending over itself to get as far away from Ty as possible. There was a ferocity in him that Ty had never seen before, never imagined would be directed at him.

"Then tell me why, Ty?"

If you love me, if we can get through it together, why did you leave me?

"Why didn't you listen to me?"

If I could know every word you'd ever said, I would memorize it all.

"How could you do this?"

If you leave, how could we get through it together?

"To Livvy..."

If my sister could see this happen, what would she say?

"To me..."

If you'd refused at the start, where would we be?

"It's your fault."

If it's my fault, why do I not feel guilty?

"Ty. . . My Sherlock. . ."

If I'm yours, why can't you be mine?

"I loved you so much..."

If you could fill me up with all your love, how much empty space would there be?

"But now I-I..."

As Kit spoke--words that filled Ty's eyes with tears and chest with lead and head with throbbing thoughts that swirled and sank like oil in water--he'd loosened his grip on Ty's shoulders and moved his hands to Ty's jaw. They lay there, deceptively tender as he brushed his fingers over Ty's face. Ty was numb everywhere; he could barely feel the pressure of Kit's hands, or the hard brick behind him, or the cold of the chains that hung around his neck. Yet it was like the rest of the world was magnified, stretching out towards him, strangling his breath and tugging on his limbs and stretching out his skin.

And Kit's hands were still there, even though Ty couldn't feel them. In the back of his mind, the thought occurred to Ty that he could move away. That tantalizing ghost of a sensation on his face would be gone, and he wouldn't have to hear the rest of Kit's sentence. But another part of Ty that couldn't understand what was happening wanted to move forwards. Wanted to react to Kit's hands, to sink into his touch as he had just moments earlier, let himself be comforted.

If you blame me so much, why are yours the hands that bring me ease, yours the voice that mitigates the sting of reality?

Silence was the only thing Ty was truly aware of. The absence of Kit's voice, the sound of it as it had faded away. But now I... What? Now he what?

Ty swallowed--with as much difficulty as it would take to swallow a blade--and forced out, in a scratchy voice barely above a whisper, "Kit?"

It was like the second the words slipped past Ty's lips, a flip was switched in Kit. He flinched and yanked his hands back, anguish filling his face, tears welling from his eyes, falling--falling and landing perfectly on the ground like dewdrops. A sob choked its way up his throat, then words, words that had echoed in Ty's head and seemed to drain his energy and bleed the colour from his surroundings--

"I wish I'd never known you!"

If I knew how you would burn more than the wounds of consciousness, would I have welcomed the strain?

"Kit!!!"

He was gone. Cold air replaced the heat that had radiated from Kit's body. Stiff blankets twisted around Ty where the soft cloth of Kit's shirt had been. Ty's hand clutched the pillow beneath his head rather than the spun gold that was Kit's hair, moist from the dew in the air. The only constants were the tears that blurred his vision and the loops of metal around his neck. Despair filled Ty--at what, he didn't know. At what Kit had said in his dream? At what he had said in the past? At the image of Kit, in front of him? At losing him again? At having him again?

If I could have you back, would I take you without hesitation or would the fear of my nightmares hold me away?

A forced breath flew past Ty's lips as he felt his eyes tingle with another round of tears. He clenched his teeth, gripped his arms tightly, bit his lip, to keep any sound from following the sporadic inhales and exhales that shuddered through him. He squeezed his eyes shut and water seeped past his eyelids, catching on his eyelashes and tracing a path down the side of his head. His hand, covered in blood like the sheets tangled around him, flew to his mouth and smothered the sob that rose up against his will.

Kit.

Tears like rain.

I'm so sorry.

Like a river.

Please forgive me.

Like a current.

I miss you, Watson.

Like an ocean.

I love you.

Like dewdrops.

[calmbefxrethestxrm]

TAGS - MAIN

[askmajiinsonic]

Welcome, Welcome! (Promo post!)

**FAIR WARNING TO ALL!! THIS IS SONIC.EXE BASED AND THERE WILL BE BADLY WRITTEN HORROR SOMETIMES!! KEEP THAT IN MIND!! THANK YOU AND HAVE A GOOD DAY**

You take a deep breath as you load up the sound test screen, your hands typing in the code shakily. Are the rumors true? Do they really appear if you type in this code?

You take one last look at the digits, making sure they're correct...

You hit enter.

The accept noise sounds off and a flash of white hits you.

You blink, groan from the intensity of the flash...And find yourself in a void like space. It's dark blue and black, and figures look at you from pillars leading to nowhere.

Wh-What? What just happened?

"Why, Hello there!"

You spin around and see...Sonic. But it's not Sonic. Instead of sonic's face, it has a creepy, mask like, smiling face with a wide grin and large empty eyes. You shiver. It's so...off.

"Came in from the Sound test, huh? Curiosity really gets at you, doesn't it?"

The creature holds out a gloved hand to you.

"Nice to meet ya! I'm Majin Sonic! Feel free to Call me Majin or Ji. Feel free to stay as long as you'd like! ...I only have one warning. "

The creature's aura grows dim and dark, and intimidating. Your body fills with the weight of dread. Their expression, while still holding a smile, seems foreboding. And frightening.

"Stay close to me, and do NOT wander off without me. Understand?"

You nod in fright, and the shadow lifts from the creature's face.

"Splendid! Ask away! And have fun! After all, the FUN IS INFINITE!"

**CHARACTER INFO, EVENT CHARACTERS, AND SUCH UNDER THE CUT!!**

Name: Majin Sonic/Majin/Ji

Age: ??

Pronouns: He/they/it

Height: A bit taller than classic sonic

Speaks: Like so!

Sexuality: Ace/Aro

EVENT CHARACTERS:

Green wisp

Nicknames: Hover, Roh.

Pronouns: They/them

Appearance: A green wisp. Duh.

Explanation: During a mishap, Roh and a lot of his friends became trapped in the Infinite. Majin found them and became friends.

Currently in the Infinite? No.

Infinite Majin

Nickname: Inf. Majin

Pronouns: He/they/it

Appearance: Majin, but with a mustache. Occasionally his eyes glow with white pupils.

Explanation: Early in the Infinite, Majin used to help the Endless spread their fun. This is the result of what would happen if Majin continued on that path.

Currently in the Infinite? Yes.

Minus Majin

Nickname: Minus

Pronouns: He/they

Appearance: Like Majin, but a lighter blue. He has a bright orange bowtie and a wind-up toy turn key in his back.

Explanation: A random rift opened up and dumped him in the Infinite. Simply my interp of the Minus Majin design.

Currently in the Infinite? Yes.

Tenma Mighty

Nickname: Tenma, D-sides Majin.

Pronouns: He/him Xey/xem clown/clowns/clownself

Appearance: Resembles Mighty the Armadillo, but a purplish pink color with mustache and a clown nose. And, of course, a large grin.

Explanation: Mun needed a way to conclude the Infinite Majin event, so here we are.

Currently in the Infinite? Yes.

Majin Snick (Dimin)

Nickname: Di, Creepy Snick

Pronouns: He/him

Appearance: Like Snick from pizza tower, but dark blue instead of purple and red. Has a small infinity sign on his hat.

Explanation: The Majin version of Snick from Pizza tower, got lost in the Infinite during April fools. Mun basically saw Snick and Snick.exe, and thought "MAJIN SNICK TIME" and created this version. He appeared during April Fools' 2023.

Currently in the Infinite? No

((THE MOD WILL SPEAK LIKE THIS!!))

TAGS:

Infinite fun!--Ask

A break from infinity--Ooc

Another soul--Anon

What fun!--Rp/reply

A change in infinity--M!A/Rp meme

What's this?-- Random posts/etc

the fun grows

The Fun Army Event

"Reach for the fun!" Event

Welcome to the Fun! --Promo

Nonsensical babbilings... the Endless

BEFORE YOU FOLLOW:

--Please do not spam my inbox, replies, reblogs, etc. If you sent in an ask or a rp starter, I'll get to it eventually! Just be patient, ok? However, it is alright to ping me after a day or so if I forgot an rp thread.

--Majin Is Ace/Aro- Little kisses and flirting is fine, just keep in mind that he's not looking for a relationship. (Mun is an adult, but this isn't a place for sex rp.)

Dni's don't really do anything, but keep in mind: Here we love trans folk, queer folk, jewish folk, black folk, and if you are here to spread hate of any kind, you will be blocked.

[lambourngb]

a skeleton of something more [malex wip]

Inspired by the promo/trailer for season 3. Spoilers and speculation ahead. 

A tumblr work-in-progress

Pairing: Michael/Alex, Alex/Forrest

Summary: Alex goes undercover to seek out Deep Sky. Starts mid-2x13.

Alex leaned his back against the solid wood of his front door, letting the heavy oak take up his weight. He kept making the standard uneven bargain with his body, of giving just a little more, going through the motions for a little longer, and then it would be over. But the tally sheet his body held was long, overflowing with so many unfulfilled promises that it seemed ever more likely he would end this journey in the red. 

If it ever ended.

At least, tonight, he had haggled wisely for some space to breathe. On the other side of the door, he had managed to escape Forrest’s hopeful and not subtle attempts to follow him inside, toward the bedroom for a long-awaited reunion. A reunion that Alex had deftly avoided without a trace of guilt. He had used the bland excuse of fatigue from a long, cramped ride from Holloman Air Force Base to Roswell on a bus that had predated the ADA by a good thirty years. It was transparent but still true, written on every line of pain in his smile as he had said “Not tonight.” that even Forrest could read it, even if only Alex knew the real source of his fatigue. 

He waited several long moments, before turning to look out the peephole to watch Forrest’s Prius silently reverse out of his driveway. Exhaling out long and low, the tension he had started carrying a little more than a year ago slipped away, letting the calm certainty of safety of his house slip down his body as he released the facade. 

Alex was almost done with this assignment, he reminded himself, as he rubbed the back of his hand against his mouth, scrubbing away the taste of Forrest Long from earlier. 

Just a little while longer, and he will have enough good will built up to finally meet the leader of Deep Sky face-to-face, after all who could resist the request of a senior member, especially one with the last name of Long? It had been a lucky find that Alex had made in cleaning out his father’s house after his death, a ring and an old photo of the members. In washed out Kodak colors was the cabal of Deep Sky. Former military men with names Alex had memorized off the salvaged hard drives from the Caulfield prison. Linked not by overlapping time on the alien project, but what had become of their careers after their military service had ended. All of them vowing to carry on the protection of Earth against an alien threat, but without the oversight of the government. 

The photo in his dad’s desk had been expected, but the silver ring? He had remembered clutching it, his hands still sore from tearing down the shed with Michael, and feeling the imprint of the symbol press deep into his skin. Searing across what Mimi had called his long-love line, singular and deep on his palm. Searing even deeper inside with the recognition that the symbol matched the ring Forrest Long wore.

The genial historian with the loose-fitting cardigan and blue-streaked hair, who had shown flattering interest in Alex, had worn the same ring. Easy on his hand, flashing in the bright sunlight when he had eagerly met up with Alex at the paintball fields with sharpshooter skills. After that date had crashed and burned thanks to a mishmash of his father’s voice and the feeling he had whenever he thought about kissing someone, not Michael, well, Alex had figured that would be the last he would see of the man. 

It hadn’t been. 

Suddenly, Forrest was everywhere he was, the Crashdown, the Wild Pony. It should have been suspicious to Alex, after months of sharing the same town with the other man without a single encounter. His heart was still bounding uselessly after Michael, while his hands had been full of his suddenly feeble father, and he had missed the snare of the trap. Not just the one his father had laid. Then after his kidnapping, two things had become clear to Alex, his father would never change from the hateful man he was, and Alex’s heart would never change when it came to his feelings for Michael.

Alex pushed his leaden body away from the door, tottering on his feet for a moment before the new prosthesis shored up his balance and he took a deep breath for the strength to move forward.

Fuck. That was a mistake. 

His house smelled like rain. Michael. The unexpected consequence of having Michael watch over his house while he had moved around the country, playing up the role of the grieving scion of the Manes family legacy. After a year of brief trips back to Roswell and long stints on the road, the house now smelled like Michael. 

Alex sucked in greedy gulps of air, chasing the taste of green and petrichor with his tongue to wash away his previous actions at the bus stop. His security system, his reinforced door and window locks, the weight of his gun still tucked in his back holster, none of it made him feel as safe as the smell of Michael in his home. It was the smallest crumb of promise, but it filled him.

Moving toward the kitchen for a drink, he clocked the changes Michael had made in his absence. His heavier luggage, shipped ahead of him, was already stored, including the set of crutches and the charging station for his back-up prosthesis. The lights in the kitchen came on with a single touch, all of them bright. Dammit, Michael had fixed the two burnt out bulbs, along with the slightly weeping fitting on the sink faucet.

There was zero sign of neglect in his house, no matter where he looked. Not even the faintest trace of dust on his guitars. The house looked warm and well tended. Loved. 

The rush of tears welled in his throat, an impossibly large lump, as Alex fought to keep from breaking down. Don’t fucking cry, don’t do it, that’s for at night, he swore creatively at himself. Tears were only allowed under the cover of dark, in hotel rooms or visiting officer quarters, not in the middle of his brightly lit kitchen.

A knock sounded on the front door.

Abruptly, every drop of tortured longing was gone, as Alex straightened his shoulders and crossed the threshold back to the door. He pasted the right amount of faked aspiration mixed with real annoyance on his face as he yanked the door open, expecting to see Forrest back on his step with a weak excuse concocted to overcome the earlier rebuff.

Michael looked up in the porch light, his black hat in hand and his curls wild with nervous raking. “Uh, hi.” He scuffed his boots against the concrete before growing still under Alex’s gaze.

He looked over Michael’s shoulder nervously, for the distinctive truck that everyone in town knew belonged to Michael, but his driveway was empty.

“I parked a few streets over. I don’t think anyone saw me-” Michael’s explanation was cut off short as Alex grabbed his wrist and yanked him inside. Stumbling from Alex’s strong grip, Michael fell forward, and then back as the front door slammed shut with them both safely inside out of view. His mouth was still open in surprise as Alex covered his lips in a kiss. 

The surprise was short-lived. Michael came alive under the kiss, opening and yielding to Alex’s hungry lips and tongue. Alex brought his hands up into Michael’s curls, cupping his head protectively as he pressed Michael firmly against the door, drinking in every sound Michael was making. 

Hours before, he had kissed Forrest at the bus station, playing up the role of a dutiful boyfriend returning home. It was the tariff he paid with his body to get closer to the roots of Deep Sky, but this, feeling Michael whole and safe under his hands, tasting him now, that was sustenance. Lifeblood. There was an evolution of difference between the two, like comparing simple bacteria wiggling toward complexity and the finished product of a man, standing upright. 

It was both a reminder of why he was doing this and a reinstatement of focus, as he slowly broke the kiss with reluctance. Michael chased at his lips, his mouth red and wet, his eyes dark with want. He could feel the heat coming off of Michael’s thin brown shirt, his hands itched to pull it off, to descend back into the physical, but Alex knew that he owed Michael an explanation for earlier.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t know he was going to be there to meet my bus. I thought it would be okay for you to give me a ride,” Alex explained quietly, as he ran his hands from Michael’s neck down to his fingertips, drinking in all the changes that had happened while he was gone. Michael looked thinner to him, as if he wasn’t eating enough despite the healthy amount of work and money. “I guess he wanted to surprise me and thought it would be romantic.” 

Michael made a face at the idea of surprises ever being considered romantic, especially to Alex. He turned sweetly toward Alex’s palm, kissing the center as Alex pushed a stubborn curl out of his eyes. “Are you sure that’s all it was? He wasn’t testing you, was he?” 

“I don’t think so.” Alex couldn’t pull his hands away from Michael, and leaned in to kiss him again. It started soft and shallow, trading breaths with Michael, lips against lips, licking deep into his mouth as his previous weariness disappeared now that Michael was here. “He saw you watching us. Now that I’m back, he’s worried about losing my attention to you. He hasn’t hidden his jealousy that I asked you to watch my house last year.” 

“Did I look sufficiently broken-hearted?” The question was light, but Alex could hear the grain of truth under it.

“You did.” Alex closed his eyes, the guilt of the situation flooded back inside. The statue of his father looking down on him didn’t make him feel nearly as sick as having Michael’s eyes on him as he let Forrest kiss him in front of the town in a cinematic homecoming moment. It was a cruel reminder to Alex that he had never been able to give Michael that, a public welcome that spelled out who they were to each other, not once in ten plus years of deployments and duty station assignments. Trading a glance across the Wild Pony was as close as they came. “I wish it wasn’t like this, sneaking around, pretending-”

“Hey, I agreed to this, right at the very beginning when I was your only back-up. Remember?” 

“We were just friends back then, you couldn’t have known that things would end up like this.”

Michael laughed, his head tilted back against the door, casting an attractive line of his throat to his collarbone. “We’ve never been just friends, Alex, but I knew what I was signing up for when you told me what you planned to do to smoke out Deep Sky. We’re in this together.”

*** to be continued... here

[sanstropfremir]

sm really set aespa up with their coachella stage… thought they would make some changes given it’s with a live audience. but like not even some dancers to support the stage?

also you can tell how awkward/empty/weak their choreo is without the fancy camera work. ningning the only one who had some sort of stage presence

apparently i'm on aespa defense today but that's fine lmao. i don't think their performance was stunning but it was fine. aespa's music in general just isn't well suited for festivals so i'm not really that surprised by anything. there are a couple of points i want to bring up though, since i don't think this was an 'sm setup' really.

firstly: sm was not the one responsible for getting aespa playing at coachella in the first place. aespa was invited to perform by 88rising during 88rising's time slot, so aespa had approx 15min within a larger set with several other artists. they weren't headlining or anything like that.

secondly: imo from what i've seen aespa isn't really being pitched seriously at the western market. they are very popular domestically and with a younger audience to boot, so although they have appeared on american stages in a couple places, i don't think a 15min set at a local music festival on a different continent with an entirely different demographic is a priority for sm at the moment. i suspect that they gave the ok on both coachella and the macy's thanksgiving parade because they figured it would give a chance for the girls to cut their teeth on live performances with very little blowback on their main market AND without sm having to take care of the technical prep. to them, it's a low risk opportunity to get the girls to learn what it takes to fill a stage. do i think it's been successful? eh. i do think there are some things that they should have done, like have backup dancers for more than a minute and definitely some rechoreographing to adjust the spacing, but to say their choreo is weak overall is a bit hyperbolic in my personal opinion. like i said in the previous ask, aespa's choreo is filled with small detail movements that are specially meant for video + virality, so yes if you put it in an enviroment that is exactly the opposite of that it's not gonna look as good. it's just a different style of choreography. one could argue that yes it is weak in this particular arena and therefore that makes it 'weak' over all as an idol choreography, but i don't really find that as a huge fault, because it was an experimental push from sm and it does work for what it was intended for. i do think we will probably see some broader variety in any of their comebacks from now on though.

also considering that they performed an unreleased song it's very possible that aespa + team are in the middle of comeback or promo prep so it was just easier for them to go perform the stuff they know already rather than build something new 🤷‍♀️

[hes-writer]

Favourite (2)

Summary: harry loves one of his children less

Warnings: angst

Word Count: 1804 words

A/N: y’all know I’ve been feeling sensitive about posting this piece so if you have any comments BE NICE BE NICE BE NICE 🥺

Part 1

___

The events from the previous weeks rattled the Styles’ household. Caleb woke to a tense morning the next morning where his dad was nowhere to be seen and Beatrice was holed up in her room. Dinner was even more awkward when silence draped over their backs like a cold blanket. Y/N tried her best to continue a dwindling conversation but there was only so much she could say until Beatrice’s silence towards Harry’s questions started to suggest that she didn’t want to speak to her dad. The youngest daughter, Ruby, seemed to be the holy grail of each family dinner when she babbled about her day in pre-school.

Beatrice was set to leave home in exactly two days. Y/N could feel a sense of pride seeing her eldest leave the family home, setting off to university and becoming her own person. Y/N knew that Beatrice had a difficult time separating Beatrice, Harry Styles’ daughter, to just Beatrice. Y/N looked back to when Beatrice was younger--an unexpected surprise that she learned to love when she felt the first symptoms of morning sickness--how she was bound to change her and Harry’s life forever. 

___

Y/N wasn’t sure if her brain blocked out the memories of Harry being hostile to their first child until recently; maybe it was a denial that there was no way Harry could blatantly show anything less than love for their child. But the more Y/N thought about Beatrice’s birthdays, recitals and school events; all she could see notice now was Harry’s distanced posture. His distraction when Beatrice performed on stage, the excuses when she had a dance recital, and unenthusiastic greeting of ‘happy birthday’. 

Harry leaned his shoulder against the door frame of the barren room, observing the bed and bedside table as it was stripped bare of the flower-printed sheets, watching his wife flip through the photo album filled with Beatrice’s accomplishments. The parents could not help but let a wave of nostalgia wash over them. The lamp on the bedside table lit the entire room. The fairy lights that were hung on her wall were taken down a few days ago; one of the items that Beatrice packed last. 

“She asked me to help her put the lights up,” Harry whispered, tracing his fingers over the cream walls, walking over to where Y/N sat on the mattress. “I told her I was busy and she did it by herself,”

Y/N sighed, lifting her head to direct Harry to the spot beside her, “I know,” She sunk with Harry’s weight at her side, his slouched shoulders further emphasizing his despondent mood. “We raised a good done, hm?”

Harry shook his head in disappointment, “No..not me,” His chest ached with missed opportunities to bond with his daughter; all because he couldn’t get over the fact that she came as a surprise. He was at the peak of his career and he wasn’t too glad that he was forced to push everything back--his album release, promo, and tour--to the next year all because of a child that he didn’t even plan on having in the first place. 

In retrospect, Harry should have known better. He should have reacted like a mature adult, a father-to-be and became an actual dad to Beatrice instead of holding a grudge to an innocent little baby. He still had a successful career that he always dreamed of but he can never turn back time for all the shortcomings he had with his child. 

Harry felt extremely guilty for missing Beatrice’s childhood, so he tried to compensate for the guilt looming over him by presenting his younger children the type of love that he failed to give her. How daft was he to not notice his actions would only push her away from him? That, to Beatrice, it was Harry’s way of highlighting the fact that he would never accept the way she was conceived? 

“What’s this?” Harry mused, tilting his jaw on where her hand rested to keep the page bookmarked. 

“Jus’ some pictures over the years. Wanna see?”

Here Harry was, flicking the glossy pages of an old photo album, looking at a dopey-smiled Beatrice on her first day of kindergarten. Her hair was in pigtails done by Harry that morning because Y/N had an early day at work. She was saddened that she couldn’t go but Harry reassured her that he will be there every step of the way. It was a half-lie. Harry dropped her off, took a quick picture and left the premises as soon as he could, missing the way his daughter’s eyes glazed over. Lips formed a pout and her tiny chin quivered as she watched her dad drive off in his black Range Rover.

The next photo was 7-year old Beatrice in her pink long sleeve and a wispy tutu wrapped around her waist. Her hair was pulled back in a ballerina bun; this time was done by Y/N if the slickness of her hairstyle was anything to go by. The left page was of Beatrice on the sidelines of the auditorium. The room was partially filled. Harry concluded that it was before the performance because of the dimple printed on her cheek since the right page showcased a sullen girl surrounded by her dance mates and their parents. Harry could remember Y/N’s frantic phone calls that night, asking ‘where are you?’ and ‘what time are you getting here?’ as the faint music blared through the speakers. 

Harry gulped at the memory. He came home to find Beatrice asleep in her costume, a plastic tiara gripped in her hand. Y/N said that she wanted to give it to him. Beatrice could at least give him something from her performance because he didn’t make it.

__

Y/N’s phone buzzed in her pocket, halting Harry’s thoughts as she answered the call. She pointed towards the door, mouthing silently that she had to answer it. “It’s Beatrice,”

Harry’s brows perched on his forehead, nervousness filled his body at the sound of her name. He didn’t even make things right before she left; too afraid of rejection when he deserved it. 

His fingers flicked through the pages. Beatrice’s piano recital. 

She was fourteen at that time. Caleb was sat on the seat next to him while Ruby was being nursed in Y/N’s arms. Beatrice peeked through the curtains, wanting to make sure that her dad was planted in his seat. She was excited to showcase the skills she learned in the past year. She was hoping to impress Harry in musical terms when she won first place. Beatrice was sure of it! She practiced for long hours until her fingers were stiff from overuse. Her other tries to catch her dad’s attention garnered her little-to-no attention and this was her last idea. 

Y/N gave her daughter a thumbs up as Beatrice walked towards the grand piano center stage. 

Beatrice was in the middle of her piece when she heard her Caleb’s curious voice over the silent crowd, “Dad, where are you going?”

She looked up just in time to catch Harry’s emotionless eyes. His expression was painted in annoyance and his phone was clutched in his hand. Beatrice’s fingers jittered with a shaky breath, feeling her fingertips trace over the wrong keys and eventually stopping altogether. The crowd gasped, murmurs flittering in and out of her ears as she stared at her lap. She tried to compose herself, maybe even pick up where she left off and continue playing as if she didn’t stop. The show must go on, right?

When Beatrice gathered enough courage to continue, she took a deep breath and lifted her head towards where her family sat. She was certain that her dad took his seat again but she could not be more wrong. Beatrice was just barely able to see Harry’s blazer flapping as the door closed shut behind him. 

__

“She ran off stage after that,” Caleb spoke from beside him. “Didn’t want mum around. She kept asking for you but you left or something,”

Harry closed his eyes tightly, tears dripping from the corners as he breathed out a sigh. He did. He left the building as soon as he could. The urgent phone call he received was from Jeff relaying that the media claimed to have found where his kids went to school. He couldn’t jeopardize their safety because of people wanting to meet him; because of him. There was no way he would let anything hurt his children. 

“I know I haven’t been the best dad to your sister,” Harry shut the book softly, wrapping his arm around Caleb’s broad shoulders. “But I really do love her,”

Caleb’s curls tickled his ears as he nodded, “She knows,”

Harry’s eyes widened in surprise, “Really?”

“Yeah. Before she left, she was talking about everything she was gonna miss. She said she was going to miss you, even if you, and I quote, ‘might not miss her’,” Caleb formed his fingers into bunny ears.

Harry desperately wished that he was brave enough to fix his mistakes. A simple, wholehearted talk with Beatrice might’ve been all he needed to start mending his relationship with her. But he stood back like a coward; hiding from his own daughter because of an irrational fear of rejection. Instead, he walked by her room, door left wide open as Beatrice gathered clothes from her closet to pack in the next box. Each time he would pass by the hallway to his and Y/N’s room, more of her items would be packed up, taped and ready to go. Packed boxes slowly filled the hallway and her closet emptied as her clothing was folded in an organized manner.

First, it was her desk. Her pens and notebooks leaving the cluttered space empty. Then, it was her hangers stripped off her dresses, jackets and coats. Her shoes were the next to go, leaving more space in the downstairs closet by the door until only one pair remained unpacked; the one she used to walk out of their house. Next, it was her dresser packed with moisturizers and makeup closed tightly to prevent spillage. Beatrice peeled off her duvet and bedsheets to wash the night before she left, opting to sleep next to Ruby on her final night at home. 

One image that he kept reeling in his head like a film projector was Beatrice climbing the metal steps of the ladder from the garage. She placed it sturdy on the floor before she stretched her hands to unhook the fairy lights from the wall. Unlike before where Beatrice knocked on his office door, hesitantly asking for help to put up the fairy lights--she didn’t ask for Harry’s help taking it down. 

___

A/N: I know that a lot of people might've wanted a full circle ending where Harry apologizes but I'm pretty happy with this ending because it's open-ended. 

___

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