#also she's so pretty in this thumbnail picture. losing my mind

[verdiesque]

MY BELOVEEEDDDDDDDD

[paperwick]

Dragon Age Tarot Style Guide: Part Two

The second of my at least three part set of tarot tutorials. This sentence will link to the first one on composition if you haven’t seen it. It’s been a four year gap between these, and I apologize for that. To all you who messaged me and reminded me of this project, thank you. You kept me from forgetting and I’m glad. <3

It won’t be another four years until I post the next segment, which will be pattern and texture focused. It’ll hopefully be in the next month or two. 

This is going to be a long post, so I’m putting it under the cut. Apologies to the mobile users! 

As a general disclaimer, this is an unofficial guide, I’ve never worked with Bioware. All of this is based on how I approach tarot design, my inspiration being heavily rooted in Dragon Age Inquisition’s companion card designs. 

Secondly, I know nothing about tarot. I tend to use http://www.ata-tarot.com/resource/cards/ heavily as a resource for my understanding of the cards and their meanings.You don’t need to know anything about tarot to do illustrations, just have as much fun as you can. <3 

So I typically work with a color composition in mind, but for those who are struggling to imagine a color scheme, my best advice for coming up with a palette is to just throw down some colors in this sort of an arrangement.

Your Main is going to be whats forming the base of the card, or it’ll be the most widely used color. Backgrounds usually make up the main, but sometimes it’s a foreground element or the character’s clothing. 

Your Cores are going to be colors that accent the base. You can make these pretty wild to be honest, but complementary colors and triads tend to work best for a balanced color composition. That’s what you’re trying to achieve with these--balance. Think about what’s drawing the most attention. The red in this example I did with the Iron Bull is very strong, and the teal I chose is fighting with it so my last color is something a bit more desaturated that accents the teal instead of picking another aggressive color, like a saturated yellow. 

The Accent or HL color is whatever you’re going to use to add the final focus notes. It will typically be your brightest or your most saturated color, though not always. Sometimes your HL color might be the darkest of the composition because your main and core colors are naturally bright. It should be used sparingly, or if you’re using a lot of it, focused in one area.

You can use more colors than this! For my example card with Bull, you can see I made his pants a sort of subdued yellow and added accents to the background and lit parts of his body in in different colors, But you’ll want to keep your major colors limited to keep it cohesive. If you start losing cohesion, I recommend using a gradient map over your picture set to multiply or soft light (not at 100%) to tone down your most divergent colors, and you can mask out areas where appropriate. 

This Bull card is one I made by picking my colors first then deciding on the content and composition. Color picking can be done first, or second as I’ve done with the rest of my examples. 

Card #1: Rayne Amell   [ @dracoangel​ ]

The Queen of Cups

This card went though several iterations with color, and the end product is less about story and more about atmosphere. The drawn composition reflects more of the story: she conceals her thoughts and feelings, but the world bends around her like water. I wanted to add more purple to this card, considering the character’s preference for it, so I skewed the color scheme in the final to be more purple. The first version probably makes for a more cohesive palette, but it lacks the same depth and drama as the one with purple. I added another core color to the second palette, which is totally okay to do. Sometimes the core palette might be 7 colors, sometimes it’s 2. The idea is to strike a balance. Colors that are super eye catching like the red in the scarf might better serve the composition as a lesser accent, whereas the purple core is a great fill because it’s fairly desaturated and doesn’t demand as much attention.

The HL color takes up a fair amount of this composition, but note that it’s strongest in the top two thirds, and is centered in the top third. The foreground water also cradles it against one of the darkest purples of the card, which helps center focus up top.

Card #2: Valora Lavellan [  @kylorensprettymuchanasshole​ ]

The Devil

This was the most difficult of the palettes, I’m working with two separate light sources in two wildly different locations. On the one side you’re at an ancient elvhen temple, on the other, in a burning chantry. It only made sense to have two different palettes for this composition. Where I really failed here was in not having a color that bridged the two sides. If you can engineer a color to be in between two differing palettes, you’re in a good place. 

With that in mind, I revisited the thumbnail. 

The execution is a little weak, but the idea works. The bridge color could work in either of the palettes and is a midway point between the two most similar values of the core colors. It’s used primarily where the separate palettes meet each other smoothing that transition. In this instance, it also helps to define the figure and double down on where the focus is, since before it was fighting between the top left and bottom right corners. Now the focus works as a diagonal from one corner to the other.

Double palettes are hard, but can make for some truly dynamic color compositions.

Card #3: Iothari Mahariel [ @theuselesspotoo ]

Six of Swords

This card was a struggle for completely different reasons. The palette is pretty homogeneous, primarily purple, with a hint of green. This one could use far more variation, and the challenge is in driving interest with such a limited palette. This is where your values are going to be super important. Your darks vs lights are always hugely apart of composition, but in limited palettes they do the most work in driving interest. Make sure to break up some of your larger and more prominent shapes with value differences, the snow vs the dark stone beneath it.

If that isn’t enough though, there’s a few tricks that can help push focus where you want it without heavily changing the color scheme. 

We have three very distinct planes in this; the sky, the distant mountains and skyhold, and the cliff the figure is standing on. We can push the far mountain plane back by reducing the brightness of it, and we can pull the nearby plane closer by adding stronger highlights to the lit areas. I also brightened up the figure since they were getting lost in the sky a bit. 

In addition, I popped the foreground colors with just a bit more red, to separate that plane from the more bluish purple mountain plane. 

Just those small changes really sharpened up the focus of the composition, and we were able to keep the palette fairly limited. 

Card #4: Tighe Lavellan   [ @queen-scribbles​ ]

Nine of Wands

This palette was a breeze compared to the others. We’re working with complementary colors, reds versus greens, and very little divergence in either direction. The bottom half is primarily reds, the top greens, and they meet in the middle with a soft orange and harsh yellow. Palettes with complementary colors are the easiest to work with, the important part is making sure their balance works with your drawn composition because they like to fight. All of my reds are limited and desaturated because the greens and yellows, by the nature of the composition, are the most demanding elements. 

Card #5:  Lathari Lavellan [ @jisabeau​ ]

The Chariot

I knew what I wanted for this one immediately when I started it. I really wanted the character to be falling into a void, to mirror their emotional crisis when dealing with the deadly white bear of their past. But though this works fairly well as a base palette, it’s really missing the intense horror I wanted when I started. 

So in my edits I pulled them further apart, and pushed the darks even further. The challenge here is having a dual focus, since I don’t really know if either stand out enough from one another at this phase. I have to pick a focus, either the bright whites of the bear or the strong orange/green tones of the character. 

This is probably the strongest focus-wise.

But I enjoy the color notes of this one far more. 

The point here is, sometimes things aren’t perfect, and that’s also okay. Pick your favorite, or at least pick one, and take that to completion. It’ll occur to you while finishing it what I needs. Which brings us to the final point, similar to that of tutorial part one: 

Final Note: Don’t spend overlong on one thumbnail. I’ve spent days in the thumbnailing stage, that’s fine, but don’t spend more than 1 hour on any one color thumbnail drawing; it’s not worth it. If an idea is good but not great, just start a new thumbnail of something similar, and you’ll stumble onto the right composition.

Remember to explore your own color intuition. My way of doing this might be helpful, but if it’s not, don’t feel compelled to follow it. Everyone has a unique vision, and we’ve got to feel out our own paths. 

If you have any questions, send them to paperwick [at] gmail [dot] com under the heading “Color Tutorial: Questions”, OR comment on this post (I might not see them on a reblog) and I’ll pool them into one area and answer as many as I can in a separate post.

Finally, I’d like to give another shout out to everyone who sent their character breakdowns to me for this. I wish I had time to get to all of them, and I really appreciate you taking the time to put them together! Thank you all so much!

Not making promises on when Part Three will come out, but it WILL be coming out. Thanks for reading through all this, I hope it’s been helpful. 

[random-storykeeper]

My OHC compilation video is here! This time, I showcase all 29 entries I’ve submitted for One Hour Compos in 2018. The cover art in the centre of the thumbnail is done by my friend catnippackets and I still can’t get over how amazing it is that she took the time to make it for me. :)

Last time I did one of these compilation videos, I made it so that the blurbs I wrote about the individual pieces was on its own, private post. I forgot you could do read mores on video posts, so this time I figured, why not just make this all public? That’s in the full post below:

OHC 482 "Connect the Dots" - When the first OHC of 2018 kicked off, I had a lot of trouble thinking of ideas on how to approach this theme. Eventually, I just settled for keeping things simple, using chiptune with a little bit of guitar to create a more pleasant little nighttime piece.

OHC 483 "Patternwork" - When I first saw the images, I wanted to be direct as possible in terms of my theme approach musically. I would use guitars as my choice of string instruments to convey the “threads” and have them repeat simple patterns with triplets going against eighth notes, taking away and adding layers as the piece went along. I exhausted almost every guitar I had in my soundfont collection and ended up having to use an electric guitar. Surprisingly, it worked out pretty well.

OHC 484 "Going Your Own Way" - I usually approach underwater themes in the same matter - sine waves with lots of release. This time, I wanted to do something a little different, but still chiptune. So I decided to focus more on having a direct melody and using square waves instead. I actually quite like the carefree melody I came up with here - sadly, I didn’t really know how to develop it any further so I ended up just repeating it a lot throughout the piece, haha.

OHC 485 "Rays and Rain" - This theme was difficult to work with. I wasn’t really sure what to interpret the pictures as. I ended up just thinking of “rain with some light coming through” and kind of went off with that in a more laidback fashion. It was this compo that I discovered that slowing down the tempo while using delay that is synchronized to the current tempo creates a cool kind of pulsating effect, which is heard at the end.

OHC 486 "Distant Hearts" - This piece was one of the few vocal entries that felt like it kind of fell into place as I went along. I actually am using an excerpt of the post compo version I did for Chips Compo, the full version which I’ll be posting to my channel some time later this year. 

OHC 487 "Drivin' 'Round the Galaxy" - Space in a car = chiptune blues? Sure...and don’t forget the high whistle with plenty of vibrato. :P

OHC 488 "Glass Curiosity" - I’m really not good at doing “rave” or dance pieces, so I decided to just focus on making something that would kind of try to capture the feeling of “losing yourself” via drinking. I mean, it’s a really basic interpretation, but towards the end, I play around a ton with the tempo as well as the filters. 

OHC 491 "From the Earth" - Whenever we get nature or plant themes, I feel like I’ve always tried to make them happy and joyous. This time, I wanted to go for a more tranquil, calmer approach. With acoustic guitar, flute, piano and violin, everything started to fall into place from there.

OHC 492 "Cybernetic Rush Hour" - At this point, I realized that my own sounds were severely limiting me, particularly in the electric department. Chiptune sounds weren’t quite cutting it for me, so I ended up booting up Harmless and taking a couple presets from there. I only barely know how to use it, unfortunately. Maybe someday, I’ll learn. The piece only started working for me when I hit those running notes at the end, but by then, time was already running out. 

OHC 493 "Routine" - One of the first things I think of when I see a bunch of machines is “conformity” and sticking closely to regular tasks. So I tried to keep the notes as even as possible and then put in some vocals. Ironically, the “just don’t come out of the blue” line really does sound like it came out of the blue lol

OHC 494 "Iris Chase" - I remember playing this one Ludum Dare game that had a red eye similar to these pictures. You would play as a person trying not to die while trapped in a room with several other people. I think the eye would kill people based on a vote and if not it would just kill people randomly. Anyways, I wanted to go with this sort of idea - a sinister eye constantly searching for the kill. I tried to play it really weird with slow pitch LFO, maybe some distortion, tritones, a gradually faster tempo. This was a lot of fun to make, and felt a bit different from what I normally was used to making, which in my opinion, was good. 

OHC 495 "Palace 9" - So I pretty much had my instrument set in mind once I saw the images - harps, violins, pizzicato strings, y’know, things that would be light and heavenly. Then I realized, I didn’t really have a good lead. Turns out, the oboe makes a great lead. Although now that I think of it, pitch bending it doesn’t sound that good haha.

OHC 496 "Paws on the Sidewalk" - Seeing fur made me automatically think of white fluffy dogs, so I decided I wanted to make a piece about taking a dog out for a walk on a pleasant sunny day. And yeah...started out with the first few notes you hear on the guitar, and just sort of went at it from there.

OHC 497 "But Only For a Moment" - I really wanted to do a ballroom dance piece for this one. Not only that, but the experience of sort of “having that first dance”, heart pumping in your chest, the pause of anticipation. Of course, it didn’t exactly turn out that way, but the idea was to set a “beautiful” scene cut short by time. How appropriate, given that this is OHC. Surprisingly, this did well in the compo. 

OHC 501 "IV Dream" - This was a weird OHC to come back to. I had never worked with a text theme before, so I was a bit taken aback here. There were so many interpretations I could go for. The one I felt the most comfortable with doing was an ocean/underwater track, but I wanted to go for something different but still water related. Then I remembered: just the week before, I was in the hospital (I burst my appendix, it infected my lower abdomen and I had to stay there for a week) and they put an IV in my hand for the antibiotics and hydration. As I was falling asleep there, I would recall the dripping sounds as the fluids made their way into my hand. I dunno, I guess that was kind of a weird approach to the theme: “I’m dreaming of flying through the sky but I’m actually just stuck here in the hospital”. Plus my voice got all messed up from the operation, so the vocals probably sound a lot worse than they normally do. :P

OHC 502 "Chipititis" - I missed making straight-up chiptune, so I made straight-up chiptune. That’s all, lol.

OHC 503 "Open Up" - I chose to go with the theme of “solitude” being a more positive theme, maybe focusing more on the calmness/meditative side of being alone and allowing yourself to be open and free in isolation. The pads in my soundfont set, as I discovered in this compo, actually work really nicely to set a fuller atmosphere. 

OHC 504 "Long Lost Reconnections" - In this compo, I tried to make a song based on a dream I had that felt real to me. Unfortunately, I ran out of time before I could fully develop the lyrics and the theme didn’t come across as well as I had hoped. 

OHC 505 "Confrontation" - Falling. How on earth are you supposed to portray this musically? I decided I would have to go with the basics: fast, descending chords. Then I hit a bass groove and decided it really needed a sax melody, so I put in that sax. By then, I decided that this piece would be about constantly falling with no end in sight, and having to come to those terms that eventually, you’ve got to land on something...right?

OHC 506 "Being Bold" - When I made this piece, I put in a definite end, and regretted it soon after hearing it in the listening party. Personally, it sounds so much better when the notes at the end don’t resolve, like in the “where does the hope go from here?” sort of way. 

OHC 509 "Forgetful Traveller" - Another one of those “hard to convey” themes. The chords had to be just right, conveying someone moving forward, but also kind of thinking that “maybe I should have gone back because I forgot something”. Well, I tried my best.

OHC 510 "Conflicting Voices in My Head" - imo this is easily one of the roughest of the vocal entries I’ve ever done. In the original compo version, I had a lot of trouble getting the vocals to be loud enough for people to actually hear them. Third time’s the charm, I hope. 

OHC 511 "Porcelain and Plastic" - I wanted to do a spooky, unsettling piece for this one, so I tried to make a piece about “feeling strange because you’re being watched by a bunch of old dolls in a dimly lit room and also, you might be turning into one of them”. 

OHC 512 "Rest in Victory" - Before I started the compo, I wanted to make a piece that would keep building up until it got to a sort of “grand finale”. So for this one, I tried to keep it simple, with the same set of chords repeating and just adding different layers as I went along. I had this crazy idea of putting in electric guitars and wasn’t really sure how these were going to work, but I think there’s some ideas in there that I kind of like. 

OHC 513 "Lullaby For a Needlessly Productive AllNighter" - I submitted this with a weird title because it was almost too long to be submitted properly (there’s a weird glitch on OHC where if you submit a title that is too long, it just glitches your piece out entirely). As for the piece itself, I wanted to make a lullaby that was kind of related to my own problems of wanting to stay up to constantly get stuff done. 

OHC 530 "Giants" - I missed out of OHC for several months due to one of my classes last term directly conflicting with the time that OHC ran. So I was pretty excited to return. Live entries are always more nervewracking, but they’re a little easier to set up, in a sense - plus, you get more control over the tempo and stuff. That being said, since they are done in one take, there’s a lot that can go wrong. I almost got this one down until I messed up on the last few notes, oops. 

OHC 531 "So Just (Let Me Be)" - The theme page originally showed “sjsj” as the theme, so most people started basing their pieces off this. It wasn’t until a few minutes in that the official theme was actually posted. Rather than starting a new piece entirely, I decided to just combine the two themes together. I tried to make several lines of the lyrics start with “S” and “J” then I ran out of time. 

OHC 532 "Melting Point" - When I saw the hot springs, it immediately made me think of the hot springs I went to in Japan last summer. It was one of my favourite experiences there. But yeah, I tried to grab a combination of instruments that would sort of capture the contrast between the hot and cold. Vibraphone for a bell-like sound, pizzicato strings for the forest setting, marimba for a warmer sound. Marimba worked surprisingly well for this theme, and I wasn’t the only one in the compo who thought this. 

OHC 533 "Hibernal Regret" - Didn’t really want to do a vocal entry, but I couldn’t help myself - this piece needed words, so I put them in. I tried to keep them short and simple rather than spending a huge chunk of the hour just trying to come up with meaningful lyrics. This allowed me time to process them properly and polish things up a little more. Never really thought I’d be combining winter and space, but hey, it was an interesting combination.

[rfsak2]

Cactus, Part XV

This one was loads of fun to write! I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

Cactus, Part XV Summary: Family matters. The Styles Warnings: Media tomfoolery but nothing too bad I hope.

They should’ve known that this wouldn’t be easy. They should’ve known that they weren’t going to get away with it.

They had a solid six months before the paps caught on that they were dating and just shy of that before they realized they had gotten married.

And she still really didn’t know how they managed to pull that off honestly.

They had only put in the bare effort into hiding early on. She would book the table because no one knew her name, they only frequented places where he was less likely to be known or places owned by friends they could trust, they never went to parties together, showing up with ‘separate’ groups of friends and leaving in different cars even if they were going to be spending the night together.

Honestly, she just didn’t think people had been expecting him to be with someone like her. She was too short, too plebeian, too curvy, too appallingly normal. It just never entered anyone’s mind that the Harry fuckin’ Styles would be into normal, everyday Jamie Schwartz.

Look who’s fuckin’ laughin’ now, bitch?

The media.

The correct answer was the media was still fuckin’ laughing.

Jamie sighed and rubbed at her face with her free hand.

They had waited a whole week before going to an OB GYN to have the pregnancy officially confirmed, waiting out the off-chance that some pap had gotten a picture of Lou buying a pregnancy test, had made a logical leap and landed on the truth.

But nothing…

No photos. No twitter or tumblr posts by fans who didn’t #RespectHarry. Nothing. Radio Silence.

So it all seemed rather wasted, this absolutely hellish week spent guarding themselves against working themselves into a frenzy just in case they were destined to be let down by notoriously inaccurate technology.

Really though, you could do a drug test at home now. Should be able to get a pretty bloody accurate pregnancy test… if you asked her.

Jamie chewed on her thumbnail, other hand hooked in Harry’s elbow.

He was seconds from going absolutely ballistic and every flash that he saw despite their position carefully hidden away from prying eyes was only ratcheting it up further.

This was the angriest she’d ever seen him.

This is worse than the time he had lifted his arms (to get yet another candle that he didn’t need, not that she mentioned it) only to reveal a very dark, suggestively low hickey only partially hidden by the low rise of his jeans. A hickey that the media blew (ha! she could make puns too) way out of proportion and still occasionally hounded on.

It was worse than the time he had gotten caught (and recorded) engaging in a particularly raunchy round of phone sex with her. It was worse than when he found out that that recording was still floating around the internet despite #RespectHarry.

This was worse than the time, he found (read: was sent) a crude cartoon of her sucking his dick made by some coward who’d spent entirely too much time perfecting her tattoos and not near as much time learning how to respect people’s privacy.

She pressed a kiss to his shoulder but he was so tense, his jaw so tight she doubted it mattered.

Surveying the doctor’s office with a mixture of disgust and sheer rage, he all but growled down at her. “Are yeh okay, Jamie?”

She kissed his chin. “Course. Are you?”

He turned and laid his forehead against hers. “I should be bloody over-the-moon. I should be fuckin’ floatin’ but these… these fuckin’ cunts are ruinin’ it..”

Hooking a hand around the back of his neck and tangling her fingers in the curls that were forming there, she shushed him, finger pressed to his lips. “I’m over-the-moon. You wanna know why?”

He tried to smile for her. “Why, love?”

She smiled. “I fuckin’ estactic, Harry, because I’m having your baby and I’m healthy and I’ve been cleared to keep touring. Those assholes aren’t going to change that. They can’t ruin that for us, baby. The person who leaked this can’t ruin this for us. I’m having your child. Who gives a fuck what they or anyone else has to say about that?” She flattened his massive hand against her stomach and accepted the kiss he pressed to her mouth.

Looking just shy of nirvanic, blissed out smile on his recently relaxed face, he rubbed his thumb over her still flat tummy, whispering, “You’re having my baby.”

She nodded and kissed him again. “I’m having your baby.”

“Mr. Styles?”

Suddenly all business again, Harry straightened and she slipped her hand from his hair, his hand still laid protectively over her.

“The car is here, sir. And Brandon sent more guys. They’re going to clear a path and then we’re gonna walk out.”

Harry nodded. Swinging an arm around her shoulders, he tucked her into his side and kissed her forehead. He grinned. “Let’s do this shit.”

**

She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. “No, Harry.”

“Love-”

“No. I don’t need a stool. I am perfectly capable of standing.”

He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Jamie, it’s for just in case. In case yeh get tired, love.”

She set her hands on his shoulders and leaned as close in as she could with an acoustic guitar hanging in front of her. “Listen to me. I am barely a month along, baby. I am perfectly healthy and you were there when the doctor said, aside from the obvious, that I didn’t need to make any signific-”

“I’m not askin’-”

“-significant changes to my lifestyle.” She smiled at him as he pouted.

His smile was a bit tight but she chose not to mention it. “I’m not askin’ yeh to change yer (our) lifestyle, monster. I simply want yeh to acknowledge that yer pregnant and that you need to be careful.” He shrugged. “Also I don’t know why we haven’t told at least the guys and Jeff.”

She shook her head and steadied her guitar as she stooped to get her bottle of water. “I’m fine with tellin’ Jeff and maybe the guys, however… however.” She grabbed his hand. “Baby, if we’re gonna miscarriage… it’s going to be in the next couple of months most likely. I don’t… it will break both of us to have to… to have to explain that.” She kissed his hand. “It’s best to keep it to ourselves for now, just you, me and Lou and Jeff if you want. And our parents, of course.”

He leaned in for a kiss and nodded. “Okay. That’s reasonable.”

She smiled. “I knew you were going to do this.”

He winced. “Do want, love?”

Sipping her water, her eyebrow arched and she smirked. “Be a hoverer…There are still six months left in the tour. You’re gonna give yourself a coronary.”

“I’m just trying to take care of you… you two.” He knocked foreheads with her. “Is there anything you need that I can provide you?”

She smiled. “Can we finish rehearsal so I can take a nap?”

Grinning, he started backing up towards his mic. “I thought you weren’t tired, Dolores Styles.”

She did not look amused. “I thought you were a smart man, Harry Styles.”

He held his hands up. “Fine, fine… I love yeh.”

“You are so lucky you’re cute.” She blew him a kiss. “I love you too.”

**

“Do you want tea, Jamie-love?”

She jumped, still staring at the tea trolley.

It had been set up pretty much exclusively for Louis and Jamie to partake in their respective tea obsessions. Her cactus mug and Louis’ favorite mug sat in the places of honor next to the kettle and mocked her.

“No, that’s okay…”

Louis chuckled. “You sure? You never turn down tea.”

She smiled tightly and tore her eyes away from caffeinated heaven only to see her decidedly not pregnant husband with his morning coffee.

Backing away from the trolley, she shook her head. “Nah.. I probably shouldn’t.”

“You sick, love?”

She shook her head and glared pointedly at Harry. “No, it’s just been makin’ my heart race, recently. Fuckin’ with my sleep schedule… probably should cut back.”

Louis nodded vaguely. “If yer sure…”

“I’m sure.” She didn’t look sure.

Trying to be as casual as possible, she made her way to the breakfast table. She leaned over Harry’s shoulder and sucked the lobe of his ear into her mouth. Voice low so the conspicuously un-nosy men at the table couldn’t hear, she purred. “I’m angry that you can drink caffeine-“

“Sorry, love.” He sounded entirely too smug to be truly sorry. “Don’t make the rules.”

“I’m angry and I want to fuck your brains out.” She nipped at his ear. “You comin’ hubby?”

He threw back the rest of his coffee and stood, the chair loudly scraping behind him. “Be back later.”

“Yeah ok, mate.” Liam rolled his eyes.

The door hadn’t even properly closed behind her by the time she’d swept her Eagles shirt over her head and started shimmying her jeans down her legs. Grunting in frustration, she paused the descent of her jeans to toe off her chucks.

She eyed him, standing by the door, one hand absently palming himself through his jeans. She licked her lips, noticing how his eyes followed the motion and he squeezed himself hard.

She loved the crazy suits and the pussy-bows, crooning behind a guitar like the lovechild of Mick Jagger and Elvis. She really did, but there was just something about Harry in tight jeans and a sheer shirt unbuttoned to his bloody navel.

His chest and thighs… Hell, if they didn’t just inform her every daydream.

“You gonna do something, pretty boy?”

**

Lou ran a comb through Jamie’s hair and shook her head, fighting a losing battle against post-nap tangles. “Your child is going to have the most unruly hair imaginable. It’s literally going to be the stuff my nightmares are made of.”

Jamie yawned. “Harry’s hair isn’t that bad.”

Snorting, Lou set the comb down with an audible snap. “He has more bloody hair than anyone I’ve ever met and now it’s getting long again, for which I have you to thank, I’m sure.”

Jamie shrugged. “I like it. Looks good on him.”

Lou smiled at her in the mirror. “It does… just a pain in my arse, is all.”

“So sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.” Jamie grinned and crossed her arms over her chest. Hissing, she pulled her arms away. “Fuck me.”

Chuckling, Lou reached for a bobby pin. “Tender, lovely?”

Jamie nodded. “All’a sudden too. They weren’t this bad this morning.” She adjusted her shirt so she was a bit more covered. “They’re getting bigger too. Jesus, I look like a tavern wench.”

“Hazza’s gotta like that…”

Snorting, Jamie did up one more button before deciding she didn’t like it. “Good maybe he can carry them around for awhile.” She sighed. “I either look like a barmaid or nun… I can’t win.”

“You need a new bra.” Lou eyed Jamie’s chest.

“Can’t buy online, I need to be measured. I hate bra shopping.” Jaime huffed. “My luck I’ve gone up a whole cup.”

“How big were you before?”

“Double-D.” She sighed. “I’m probably a fuckin’ E now or something. What even is after Double-D? I’ll have to get shit made. How many cup sizes did you gain with Lux?”

“Probably one maybe two.” Lou made a face and reached for the hairspray. “But I was never as buxom as you, lovely. Only two months in and you’ve already gained at least a cup. You’re gonna be porn star big by the time you give birth.”

“Fuck…”

Lou grinned at her in the mirror. “The girls with straight hair always want curly hair and the girls with curly hair always want it straight.”

Jamie rolled her eyes. “You don’t want none of this, Lou-boo. They are gigantic pains. Literally and figuratively.”

“Got you one of the most eligible men in the world though.”

“I personally hope that it was my stellar personality and my mad guitar skills.” She stuck her tongue out. “But again, if he likes them so much, he’s welcome to have them.”

“Have what, monster?”

“My tits.” She looked up and smiled at Harry, noticing too late that the door was open and three uncomfortable men were lingering outside of it. She shrugged, not in the mood to care. “You can have them. I don’t want ‘em anymore.”

Harry grinned. “I’d take ‘em, love, but they look much prettier on you than they will ever look on me.”

“Excuses, excuses.” She stood and Harry tried to draw her into a hug. She winced and put a hand out to stop him. “No hugs…” She motioned at her breasts and whispered, “They’re killin’ me, baby.”

He nodded and leaned over for a kiss instead. “By the way… I noticed this morning. Your tits are bigger.”

“No fuckin’ shit.”

**

“Yeh ready, love?”

She nodded and Harry stuck his head out of the little Camry they had rented to be incognito. Brandon strolled back around the corner and reached for the door. “Coast is clear, Mr. Styles.”

Harry stepped out of the car and held a hand for her. They strolled, as casually as possible into the OB GYN office.

Harry walked up to the front and smiled down at the gaping receptionist. “Hi, we’re the-”

“Styles.” The woman jumped up. “Of course, the doctor is waiting for you. Follow me.”

She led them into a prep room where she took Jamie’s height, weight and vitals and then led them to a back exam room where the doctor was waiting for them.

“Hello!” The doctor smiled kindly. “Go ahead and hop up on the exam bed, Mrs. Styles. Mr. Styles, you can take a seat in that chair by the bed, please.”

They did as they were bid, Harry reaching out for Jamie’s hand when she was situated.

“How have you been, ma’am?”

Jamie smiled. “I’ve been fine, yeah.”

“Good.” She flipped open Jamie’s file. “Any morning sickness?” Jamie shook her head. “Really? Lucky you! Fatigue, more so than what you’d expect on a tour?”

“Yeah, I’ve been taking naps on top of sleeping later than usual. I tend to sleep late but I rarely ever take naps.”

She made a note. “Any headaches?”

“Just from quitting caffeine.”

“That will do it. Moodiness?” Harry nodded for Jamie and she pinched his arm. Chuckling, the doctor made a note. “Breast tenderness?” A nod. “Any anxiety, more severe than you’d expect. Of course, some anxiety is very normal.”

“A little but, I’ve chalked it up to the general moodiness and fatigue. It hasn’t been debilitating or anything.”

“Good. Good.” She smiled. “Have you been eating normally?”

“Yes, she has.” Harry muffled a snort into his hand. “She’s been eating bloody everything. A bag of those baby carrots a day… if not two. Never seen anyone eat so many bloody carrots.”

“Hush you.” Jamie swatted at his arm and Harry leaned in for a kiss. She shook her head. “No one asked you.”

“It’s cute, love. I, for one, am glad yer not pullin’ a Kate Middleton and gettin’ stuck in hospital.”

The doctor chuckled. “Exactly. With the lack of morning sickness, that’s to be expected and it is a good thing considering you seem to be craving something healthy. Some women have problems keeping weight on while others gain too much during the first trimester. Are you experiencing any strange symptoms that you’re worried about?”

Jamie shook her head.

“Well your vitals are great and as long as you’re feeling well then let’s move on. Do you have any questions before we do what you really came here for?”

Harry squeezed her hand as Jamie shook her head.

The doctor smiled. “Well then, roll up that shirt, Mrs. Styles and lean back.” Turning back to Jamie with a gloved hand full of jelly, the doctor chuckled. “My! You’re covered in tattoos, aren’t you? Might be the most tattooed mama I’ve had.”

Jamie tensed as she spread the cool gel over her lower stomach. “Jeez… It’s cold.”

“Yes it is.” The doctor winked and lifted the wand. “Let’s go! Sit back and relax. Sometimes it can take a bit to find them this early.” She focused on the screen. “So do you plan on getting tattooed for this little one?”

Jamie shrugged, eyes also fixed on the whole lot of nothing on the screen. “Yeah, I’d think so… I haven’t really given it much thought honestly.”

“I am.”

Jamie turned to Harry and squeezed his hand. “Yeah? What are you gonna get, baby?”

He shrugged and lifted her hand to his mouth. Pressing his lips to her knuckle, he grinned. “Don’t know yet. I’ve got a couple ideas.”

She smiled. “I think I wan-”

“Here the little one is!”

They both turned to the screen, eyes wide as the doctor pointed to the screen. Jamie covered her mouth with her free hand. “Holy shit.”

The doctor pointed to a light spot in the sea of black. “There they are. This right here,” She enlarged the image and pointed to a tiny rhythmically quivering spot. “That is the baby’s heart. Can’t hear it on the machine so we’ll use a different piece of equipment. It’s good that we can see it. Everything looks normal.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Jamie saw Harry wipe at his eyes. She cupped his jaw and pulled him to her. He grinned. “That’s our baby, love.”

She nodded and kissed him.

Jamie turned back to the doctor as she pressed another piece of equipment to her belly, setting aside the previous wand. She moved it around a bit and Jamie gasped as the sound of a very fast, very muffled heartbeat filled the room.

“That’s Baby Styles’ heartbeat and it sounds wonderful. Good and strong.”

**

She pulled her cord through her guitar strap and plugged in, eyeing Liam as he made his way toward her.

“Yeh like carrots, dontcha, Jamie-love?”

She grinned and squatted to talk to him from the band riser. “What?”

“Carrots?” He held up a bag full of baby carrots. “You’ve been eatin’ loads of carrots.”

“Yeah… I mean I like carrots.” He offered her the bag and she took it, wearing a confused frown. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

He shrugged, already turning to walk away. “Eat them? Pregnant ladies need to eat.”

She went pale. “What! How did you know?” She stood and motioned at Harry. “Harry Edward Styles!”

Liam chuckled and came back to the band riser. “He didn’t tell, Jamie.”

“Monster, sit on the edge of the platform. Don’t want yeh fallin’.” Harry loped over. “What is it?”

“Liam fuckin’ knows I’m pregnant!” She turned back to Liam. “How did you know?”

“What? Y’know?” Harry frowned at Liam, but turned back to her, patting the edge of the platform. “Sit.”

“You’re hoverin’ again, baby.” She sat, guitar sitting awkwardly in her lap. “Seriously, Liam, how did you know?”

Niall came up behind Liam and Harry, Louis right behind him. “Know what?”

Liam motioned vaguely at Jamie. “Y’know.”

“Oh, that.” Niall nodded. “Yeah, we all know.”

“What?” Harry frowned. “How?”

Niall chuckled into his fist. “Well, first, Harry is actin’ like he wants to wrap ye up in bubble-wrap.”

Louis laughed. “You two are not as sneaky as you’d like t’think. Jamie-love, you take a nap everyday at four and you’ve been turnin’ down tea, both of which you never did before.”

Niall nodded. “You’ve also been a wee bit irritable and aside from the morning, you’ve never been all that irritable befo’.”

“I am not irritable. You take that back!”

Laughing into his fist, Liam nodded. “You are irritable, Jamie-love. Sorry t’tell ya.”

“And who goes to a normal gyno appointment with their woman, Haz? No one does that!” Louis smiled. “I don’t even think the media believed that.”

“I like to be a supportive husband.”

“No one is that supportive and if you tell me that you’ve gone to any of her other appointments, I’ll call you a liar.”

“And last but not least,” Liam grinned. “You two have not been able to bloody keep your hands off each other. Seems like you’re bloody nippin’ off to have sex every five minutes.”

Jamie blushed, looking absolutely mortified. “Jesus.”

Harry rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

Liam shrugged. “It’s nothin’ to be ashamed of or anythin’, I just find it hilarious that you think you’re that sneaky.” He smiled. “How far along are you?”

“She’s ten w-”

“We’re on in two. Everybody get-”

Jamie turned towards the assistant and whisper-screamed. “You’ll have to give us a minute. We’re havin’ a bloody family meeting!”

The boys went silent, before Niall dissolved into giggles, doubling over, as the other guys joined him. “And yer not irritable, right, Jamie?”

She frowned and flicked Niall off, before turning back to the assistant. “I’m sorry about that. Give us a minute more please?”

Liam reached over to squeeze Harry’s shoulder. “So ten weeks? Pretty much out of the danger zone, yeah?”

“Danger zone?” Niall looked confused.

Liam nodded. “Most women miscarry in the first trimester. That’s why it’s kinda traditional to not say anything right away.”

She nodded. “Yeah, we uh.. We heard the heartbeat last week. Doctor said that chances are now low that I’ll miscarry… We were just tryin’ to figure out how to tell y’all.” She winced. “Hope you don’t feel like we were keepin’ secrets or anythin’.”

Louis squeezed her knee. “Nah, Jamie-love, sometimes you gotta keep things to yerself… keep it in the family and all that.”

Harry shook his head. “Yeah, but you are family, innit right? We’re family. We didn’t want t’haf te go back and break everyone’s heart if we lost.. lost the baby.”

“We’ve got ye, bruv. Nothin’ to worry ‘bout.” Louis pulled him into a hug. “Now Niall jus’ needs to get his bird pregnant and everyone’s got a sprog.”

“Well, actually…”

Everyone turned to Niall who shook his head. “I’m just kiddin’...”

Liam reached over and popped him in the back of the head. “On a serious note, congratulations you two. You’re both going to be great parents.”

Jamie pulled her guitar over her head and set it on the floor. “Help me down. I want a hug.”

Harry helped her down and the boys all but enveloped her in a hug. Pulling away a couple minutes later, she wiped at her eyes. “Now get set before production hates me.”

Part XIV Up Next: Part XVI

[thatweirdmod]

Windowless Moviemaker Chapter 2: Subject

Windowless Moviemaker Chapter 2:

Subject

Street lights twitch above me as I walk down the sidewalk, not yet wearing the mask. My black backpack and all my clothes are nondescript, common brands. I wear no watch or jewelry.

This is so that if Mrs. Horatay braves the humiliation and tells someone about tonight, the police won't have good leads to go on. It'd be safer, admittedly, to keep a blindfold on her for the entire time, but that ruins it.

We are making movies here,after all, not just raping. We bring urges and emotions out of our subjects that most humans never get to see in all their lifetimes. The eyes convey a great quantity of that emotion, and I avow to commit as much of it as I can to film.

I gain base sadistic pleasure by doing these things, of course, and I'm able to relive those moments of pleasure by watching the recordings. However, this is also my legacy, and the internet makes it possible for me to share it with the world.

Well, not just the internet. I have a specific person to thank. Mitchol. I was on the school roof, when he showed up.

"You come here too?" And that was how it began. We talked during that lunch break, and many more.

Then one time, he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, and gave it to me. "I think this is something you'll be interested in, Jeeto. Check it out after school," he'd said.

On the piece of paper was a URL for a private site called "adesireisfulfilled", and a password.

Later, I went there and logged in. I was greeted by a dark page with 3 red boxes. They were marked as, "Local Files", "Files 2", and "Files 3", respectively.

I clicked on "Local Files", and to my surprise saw Nana, my class rep, naked and hogtied on a blue tiled floor. I almost couldn't believe what I was seeing as my eyes traveled over the rest of the thumbnails.

There were picture folders and videos, all of girls from nearby schools being molested, tortured, and raped. I continued to scour the website, getting harder and harder, until it hurt to leave my dick in my pants. I had to take it out and jerk off more vigorously than I ever had before.

The next day, Mitchol met me on the roof. "So, how was it?" He had asked. I knew exactly what he was referring to. I'd responded that it was awesome, and he'd looked pleased at that.

"It might say typical stuff like 'extreme bondage' and 'forced play' for a lose backup cover, but it's all real." He had said with a fiendish smirk.

Then, I remember him chuckling at my agape expression, and saying, "That makes it even hotter, though. Doesn't it?"

He'd then paused and looked at me thoughtfully, before saying the words that changed everything.

"You could do it too, you know."

I'm grateful that Mitchol took the risk of letting me in on this. And he's grateful now too. After all, I contribute just as much as he does.

I begin cutting through some woods that lead to the back of the Horatays' house. I only don my mask once I'm out of view for sure. I don't need anyone associating this thing with me.

I'm almost there when I spot a silhouette crouched down behind a tree. I approach as quietly as I can, but a twig snaps under my foot.

They suck in a quick breath and look back at me. A bit of light from the house catches their face, and I see that it's Kidney, wearing the same kind of mask as I am. I loose a breath, and approach.

"You scared me for a second there," Kidney chuckles.

"You scared the shit out of me too," I say.

He scoffs. "You were careless enough to leave criminal evidence on your shelf, but this scared you? I mean, who would it be other than me anyway?"

"'Who would it be’, eh?" I muse. "That makes me wonder if there are other guys like us around here."

Kidney shrugs. "According to the news, rapes are pretty rare around here. The problems most people worry about are burglaries and drunk driving."

I notice he's holding binoculars. "Were you trying to get a peak through the window?"

"Yeah," he responds. "She's still up in there. It's easier to catch them sleeping, so they won't hear us breaking in as fast and call the cops."

"Did you see if she's in her pajamas or not?"

"Yeah, she's getting ready for bed."

"Good," I say. "Now lets hope she's not an insomniac, or we'll be waiting here for a long time."

"It would've been better not to have to wait at all," Kidney says. "I told you it was kinda early, man. This is so boring. I didn't even bring my Gameboy."

"I guess you were right," I concede. "If you ask me though, it's no shame you didn't bring your Gameboy. Pokemon's like the only thing you have on that. I just can't get how people enjoy that tedium."

"Not 'tedium'. Momemtum," Kidney corrects me. "Sure it takes a lot of hours, but you're always leveling up and getting more Pokemon. It feels like a flow of perpetual progress."

"Boorrring," I drawl. "I'd much rather capture people on film than fake, pixelated animals on a Gameboy."

"Fine, suit yourself," he says, crossing his arms. Just one less asshole I've got to worry about competing with for the latest figures."

"Gimme those for second," I say gesturing towards the binoculars.

"Sure," Kidney responds, and hands them to me.

I squint through a space between the blinds. They've got the big, fancy kind. They're made of wood, and have kind of wide spaces in between them.

I'll take the tight, vinyl mini blinds I have at home over these bloated ass, big money ones, because I can see her sleeping all too well from here.

"Looks like we're in luck," I announce.

"What? She's crashed already?"

"Seems like it," I say, smirking. "Wait here," I tell Kidney as I hand his binoculars back. "And make sure Mrs. Horatay stays in bed while I go in."

He nods and says, "I'll text you pronto if she starts waking up."

With that, I sleuth around the corner to the window of another room. It's still facing the woods, but far enough away to not to wake her if she's an average sleeper.

I push up on the window- locked. No matter. I take the crowbar out of my backpack and, as quietly as possible, use it to pry it open. I flip open my phone.

No text. Jackpot. Screen still bars my entry, but I swiftly and noiselessly dispatch it with a few slices from my pocketknife.

I lift the blinds, thankfully less noisy than vinyl, and look around the room. It appears to be a bedroom that's been designated as an office or study.

What really matters, however, is that the floor is wooden. The open bedroom door is across from me, so I can see that the floor beyond is also wooden.

I click my tongue lightly in annoyance, take off my shoes, and put them in my backpack. I shoot Kidney a text saying, "Window open. Hard floor."

He appears around the corner as I'm climbing inside, and comes in after me. We quietly take out our "capture gear." With me holding the syringe of animal tranquilizer and Kidney holding rope and a gag, we pad down the hallway to Mrs. Horatay's bedroom.

As we approach cautiously, I observe her in peaceful slumber: strands of her mid-length brown hair strewn carelessly and perfectly across her fine features, silky, beige nightclothes covering her hourglass figure, the lines of nipples underneath as her luscious bosom rises and falls slowly.

Once we're close, Kidney pounces. By the time she's seriously started to make a stir, he's already gagged her and roped her wrists. He hops on the bed on top of her, pinning her legs down.

I lean over and plunge the syringe into her neck. I press down with my thumb, and fill her body with the potent chemicals. She only struggles for a few more seconds before falling under and going limp as a corpse.

I heft Mrs. Horatay up, and Kidney helps me stuff her into a large bag with straps. We feed our backpacks and the woman through the forced-open window, exit, and close it behind ourselves. Kidney puts on both of our backpacks, while I carry the woman on my back.

"Where'd you park?" I inquire.

"Just follow me. It's a few blocks down, in a private-ish spot right outside the woods."

We dash through the Horatay's lawn and back under and through the cover of the woods as quickly as we can. Once we reach the end, Kidney holds a hand up to me.

"Wait up. I'm gonna peak out to see if anyone's around."

I stay nervously, my back aching from holding the woman's weight all through the woodland trek. I should probably workout more.

"Okay," Kidney says. He waves me forward, scurries to the rental, gray mini van, and opens its trunk. "Hurry!" He whispers.

I toss Mrs. Horatay in the back, and then hop in the passenger's seat.

He presses moderately on the gas, obeying the low neighborhood speed limit. These speed limits have always annoyed me. You know it's for the dumbass brats running around on the street.

I say let the car engines run, and let natural selection run its course on the crotch goblins that are too stupid to stay off the road. They've all been told before. If they don't listen, why should that be anyone's responsibility except their own?

Once we're out of the bullshit zone, we take off our masks, that way, no one who sees us in the car will pay us any mind.

"This really is a whole lot of work," Kidney says with a sigh, as he presses down on the accelerator.

"I hope you're not thinking of quitting," I say to him.

His response is silence.

"Unlike you," I say. "There's no good sex that exists outside of this for me. Doing it normally over this past month would've been even worse than staying in my room with my hand and porn.

I can't stand either, though. I'd have gone nuts if I had to continue on forever like that."

"All the content on adesireisafulfilled isn't enough to fulfill your desire for this?" Kidney asks.

"That's way different than a real woman," I say. "Besides, I've already watched all the stuff on adesireisfulfilled. I need new content, and the other members need new content too."

"Where there's a demand," Kidney muses. "There's always someone cashing in by supplying. Have you ever wondered how much Mitchol's making off of the members?"

"Huh?" I question. "We don't pay anything."

"Well of course not; we're the suppliers, the content creators. We should be the ones getting paid."

I can sense Kidney's irritation.

"Look," he says. "As far as I know, there are only 5 uploaders on the site. Us, Mitchol, and the other two guys,  Redhand Heriolt and my uncle, Stoulfer. But," he continues,

"Mitchol said before that there are about 600 members. You think they're all friends that he just gave the password out to for free?"

"Probably not," I admit.

"Yeah," Kidney says angrily. "I bet Mitchol's charging registration and membership fees. Maybe he's even charging for access to "premium content."

"But," I argue. "Mitchol's the one who pays the bills to keep the site online. He needs money for that. And for us, well, don't you think the work is its own reward?"

"Maybe for you it is, but that doesn't change the fact that the profits of our labor are being swiped out from under our noses. If I'm gonna keep doing this," he says as he veers onto the obscure dirt road, "It'll be for the full reward."

We put our masks back on and get out of the mini van. Kidney parked in a grassy clearing in the middle of a bunch of wild land. There's a rundown little house here, but the main purpose it serves is to be a distraction.

I go to the edge of the clearing, and move some "fallen" branches and shrubs to uncover the metal door of the underground bunker. I open it, and Kidney carries Mrs. Horatay over from the car.

We walk down the concrete stairs, and I flip on the light. Thanks to the house, it doesn't appear suspicious that electricity is being used in this middle-of-nowhere location. The company and the police would just assume that that's where it's going, I hope.

As Kidney and I set up our filming equipment, he says. "Hey, Jeeto. Check out this new camera and tripod my uncle gave me."

"Wow, it's super tall."

"Yeah, now we can get even better angles. If I set it up here," he says, rolling the tripod in front of the bed, "I can get a top down shot of her tits jiggling and the dick going in and out."

"Top down isn't a favorite of mine," I say. "However, interspersing shots like that would lend a more professional feel to the movies."

"Exactly," Kidney says, then looks over at the bag Mrs. Horatay is in. Moaning comes from it. I can see her weakly squirming around. She's just come to. I rush to grab a camera and start filming.

We leave her in there, allowing her state to progress naturally. Her muffled cries rise from confusion and fear to outright shrieks of panic and terror.

"Heermmmmpphhh!" Mrs. Horatay screams through the loosened gag. She squirms viciously in the bag, rolling and flopping over, her wrists and ankles bound.

Kidney and I both laugh heartily. Upon hearing us, her animalistic flight response slows down somewhat into human diplomacy.

"Hmmm errmm yeourr?" She attempts to speak again through the gag and the bag.

"I think she's asking who we are," I say.

"Well, I guess it's time to get her out of there," Kidney says. He goes over to her, unzips her prison, and pulls it off.

She's shaking violently. Salty tears stream down her face and soak the gag in her mouth as she looks up at the masked Kidney- petrified. I'm reminded of Kidney's earlier comparison of women to rabbits.

I zoom in on her face. Through the window of her eyes, I see the horror of the certainty of doom. Chills prickle up my skin.

"Oh, she looks good," Kidney says, unzipping his pants and freeing his semi-hard dick.

Mrs. Horatay bursts into a noisier fit of tears, pleading incoherently. I put the camera on the tripod, walk over, and finally take the gag off.

"Please, please, please." She says rapidly. "You don't have to do this."

I give her a perplexed look, which she can't see underneath my mask anyway. "I don't know why some of you women say that, like we're doing this out of some solemn sense of duty to you."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" She says, high pitched. "I never... I didn't mean it that way. I'm so sorry."

I laugh. "Looks like we've got an ass kisser over here," I remark to Kidney.

"Even if she wasn't tied up, she might be groveling down there anyway."

"Hmm, I think we can work with this... Hey bitch!" I bark at Mrs. Horatay.

"Ye-yes?" She answers meekly.

I squat down at eye level with her, and pull the knife out of my pocket. When I flip it open, she flinches.

"Hmph," I observe, amused. Then, I grab her by the collar of her silky night shirt, and press the blade up against her neck.

She gasps, and I laugh again. "If you keep shaking like that, I might accidentally cut you." I say this with sarcasm thick enough to let her know that I don't really give an iota of a shit about her well-being.

Then I switch to grave seriousness. "I caught your eyes when they darted around the room a moment ago. It's true-" I dig the knife in, puncturing her skin as I say the next words. "There isn't any way out."

Mrs. Horatay whimpers as tantalizing red blood trickles down her supple neck and stains her beige pajamas. I lick my lips, trying not to pant. She cries out softly as I pull her closer to me by the collar, slicing her skin more.

"And the worst places your mind went, the places it's going now, I could take you there." I feel unbelievable elation from the look on her face, and the fact that the camera behind me is recording it all. I soften my tone a mite.

"You're a smart woman, Mrs. Horatay, so let me do whatever I want to you. It won't even take the whole night."

She nods slowly.

I untie the ropes around her ankles and wrists, and she lies obediently, even once freed of the bindings.

"Stand up," I order her.

She stands nervously.

"Unbutton your shirt."

She swallows, and glances uncomfortably at Kidney, who's lightly stroking his penis.

I wait, a firm object before her. After looking up at my masked face, then back down to my shoes, she begins to undo her buttons. A sheen forms in her eyes.

"Hurry up and take it off," I tell her impatiently.

She pulls the shirt away, exposing her bare body. My eyes feast upon her voluptuous breasts, like ripe fruits hanging heavily on a tree branch. Her eyes widen when she notices my erection, bulging in the front of my black pants.

"Take off your bottoms too."

She slips them off. Pale pick panties with a little red bow in the front. Not very adult-ish, so it's kind of funny.

I step closer to her, and she stays still. I grab and squeeze a handful of her breasts with my left hand, while my right runs down her torso and dives under her panties.

Her pussy lips feel dry under my fingers. I fondle and rub her to my heart's content, then push two fingers inside her. I move them in and out roughly, and she gasps and groans at the painful molestation.

I let up once her body starts reacting, finally making her pussy slick. She looses a breath when I withdraw.

"Go to the bed, take off your panties, and bend over," I tell her.

Mrs. Horatay follows my instructions with a red face. She keeps her legs close together, as if that does anything to preserve her dignity. I can still see her pussy, but I say, "Spread your legs."

Kidney films her face, which must be twisted in shame and frustration.

Her legs open a few inches, and I click my tongue. I slap her on the ass, hard. "Spread them more!"

Tears trickle down her face as she scoots her knees out, splaying her legs enough to make her pussy lips part.

"Yeah," I say, rubbing her cunt and grabbing her ass from behind. "That's what I like to see."

I unzip my pants and whip my cock out. Without warning, I grab her by the waist and line her vagina up with my thrusting dick.

With one fluid motion, I plunge all the way inside her. Mrs. Horatay cries out at the sudden intrusion. Without giving her a moment to adjust, I begin a high tempo pounding rhythm. Kidney fixes the tall camera and tripod to get a better shot of me doing Mrs. Horatay.

I take my left hand off her waist and latch it around her arm. I pull, forcing her back to arch up, and giving the camera a good shot of her bouncing tits.

I lean down slightly while pulling Mrs. Horatay up against myself, then I grab her by her breasts. My nose is inhibited by the mask, but I think her hair smells nice. I would love to get my teeth around her ear or her neck, and bite while I'm thrusting into her.

I increase the force of my movements. The sounds she's making are enough to make me shoot my load all over her back.

"It's my turn," Kidney says. So, gather my bearings and go to man the cameras.

Mrs. Horatay is lying on the bed, shivering in the fetal position.

He climbs on with her, and grabs her by a fistful of hair. She groans sharply as he yanks, twisting her over onto her back.

"Does your husband ever do this with you?" Kidney asks as he sits over Mrs. Horatay's chest and slides his erect penis between her large breasts.

"Hmm?" He pries again as he moves his hips slowly, awaiting an answer.

Her eyes dart down to the head of penis, poking in and out of her cleavage. "N-no..." She says in a soft, broken voice.

"Oh," Kidney says, surprised. He tweaks her pink nipples and squeezes her breasts together around his cock. "That's a shame, because this is great," he tells her, moving faster now.

I make sure one of the cameras is trained on her face. When they talk about rape, they never tell you about the awkward expressions and the not knowing where to look.

The heavier feelings like horror and violation take precedent, but also, being naked in front of and doing sexual things with two complete strangers is uncomfortable, bizarre, and embarrassing for the average woman.

With a satisfied moan, Kidney spurts semen all over her face. Luckily for her, she closes her eyes in time.

While he's recuperating, I make scissors with fingers and put one "blade" in her anus and the other in her vagina. I chuckle when she moans in a whore-like manner.

With a camera zoomed into the action, I thrust my fingers in and out, making sloppy sounds. Once I've filmed enough of that, I lie on the bed on my back.

"Come sit on my lap," I say.

Mrs. Horatay obeys, tired and afraid.

"Show me what you'd do if I was your husband."

She abashedly begins moving her hips, dragging her pussy along my flaccid length to get me hard. Once I'm ready, she lifts herself up, then slowly impales her vagina on my cock. I smirk.

As she rides me, I trail my hands over her thighs and up her tight stomach, to the lovely breasts swaying above me.

I grope them fondly, before leaning up and taking a nipple in my mouth. She moans as my tongue twirls around the soft pink bud.  I suck and clasp her breasts, occasionally nipping with my teeth.

When Kidney comes over, I lie back again and pull her down so that she's lying on my chest. We continue moving together as he spreads her asscheeks.

Mrs. Horatay groans through her teeth, close to my ear, as Kidney pushes his member inside her anus. My dick hardens and twitches inside of her.

"Fuck, she's so tight... and hot," Kidney groans as he struggles to push his cock in and out of her anal cavity. We time our thrusts together. The pressure of his dick on the other side is making her cunt feel even tighter.

"Ahh," I moan. "I'm gonna come again." Mrs. Horatay is whimpering in my ear in pain. There's no way I can hold my come back now that I feel the wetness of her tears on my neck. I cream inside her pussy. Kidney's climax follows soon after.

We put our pants back on. For the final sequence, Kidney gets a vibrator out of his bag.

"Lie back on the edge of the bed and spread your legs," he says to Mrs. Horatay. I lower the height of one of the tripods,  roll it over, and focus the camera on her genitals.

For the next several minutes, Kidney carefully masturbates her. He licks, sucks, and rubs her red little clit while moving the vibrator in and out of her vagina at a steady, moderate pace.

One of the most frequent users on adesireisafulfilled recently left a few comments requesting a "spasm closeup."

So, I guess this is Kidney providing customer satisfaction. Going by what he said earlier, he does plan to get paid, after all.

Kidney finally makes Mrs. Horatay's body climax, forcing a strangled moan from her mouth. I make sure every undulation and twitch of her privates is recorded in perfect focus.

"Alright," he announces once her orgasming has ceased. "That's a rap."

I throw Mrs. Horatay's clothes and a roll of paper towels at her.

"As I'm sure you can tell," I begin as she re-dresses. "Everything that we did has been filmed." She frowns knowingly.

"Can you imagine what would happen if everyone in your life saw this? Your friends, your dad- it could even find the eyes of any future children you might have.

And your husband... some of this looks pretty consensual, you know."

She perks up at that. "Oh yeah," I say, huffing a laugh. "We could only release those parts. Tell me, how good is your relationship with your husband?" I don't wait for an answer before continuing.

"Are you positive he'd take your word that you were forced, against video footage of you on top of me grinding on my dick? Against footage of your pussy spasming in pleasure?"

Her eyebrows are furrowed, and it looks like she's going to be sick. "What do you want me to do?" She questions desperately.

"We want you to keep quiet about this. That's all."

Kidney tosses her the pills and water.

"Is this some kind of birth control?" Mrs. Horatay asks skeptically, examining the bottle.

"Right on. They're good too. Sure to work, with no awful side effects. Take 2 of them," Kidney says.

"No matter how you feel later," I insert, "Be sure to keep on the face you normally wear, and keep up with your usual tasks."

She cautiously twists open the cap and shakes 2 pills into her palm.

"Swig a shot of hard liquor. Sneak a smoke every now and then. Go punch around a bag at the gym. Do whatever you need to do."

Then, I lower my voice. "Just don't let anyone know, or you'll lose everything," I tell her as she swallows thickly.

"Did you know?" I say. "All the cells in our bodies are replaced every 10 years, but we don't say we're new people every 10 years because of that fact.

This is because who we really are is what's inside our hearts. This might sound like bad news for someone like you, so full of pain, shame, and confusion.

But, there are sayings: 'We are who we pretend to be, so we must be very careful what we pretend to be.' And, 'If you gaze into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.'

If you pretend everything's fine, eventually, it truly will be. The act will transmute from second nature to first before you realize it. And, if you gaze into the abyss of wellness and happiness, those things will reflect back into you."

Mrs. Horatay looks as unconvinced as could be expected, but I go on with the drivel anyway.

"Your heart can be disciplined- molded and changed by your own will. You need only know what your will is. So... do you wish to be a victim?" I ask her.

"Another statistic, a shell being dragged along barren sand through days filled with pity? Do you want to live the rest of your life in the worst moments of your past, with your mind trapped in this bunker forever?"

Her expression is one of disturbance and confusion.

"You might think you have no choice, but that's a lie," I say. "Not everyone who's been belittled must be nothing, and not everyone who's been shoved down must wallow in the mud.

Despite all the media's talk of coming forward and closure, your contentment doesn't have to be chained by being hinged upon things outside of your control. You have the right to live freely from here on out.

You have a right to thrive, to leave the shadows of the past behind in the darkness, and to run straight ahead into the brightness of the future, without inhibition.

Your life is still full of positive possibilities, and the truth is, not a single one can be taken away without your releasing it."

I speak more firmly. "Hanging in the balances now are your marriage, your dignity, and even your identity, because no one would see you the same way if they saw these recordings. You can tip those balances in your favor, easily."

She blinks slowly, clutching her arms with her hands. I let the silence linger for a while until Mrs. Horatay quietly says, "Okay."

I grin, pleased. "I told you didn't I? You're a smart woman."

I actually have no idea what effect these speeches I give have upon the women we rape. They might even be destructive.

All I really need to say is, 'We'll show everyone you know these recordings if you tell anyone about what happened.'

Their minds would do the rest, and do a much better job than I ever could. I guess I just like having someone to rant at for a few minutes.

[georgiabread]

confused

summary: dan loves girls. right?

- a little story about learning to accept yourself.

word count: 2.9k

trigger warnings: a few homophobic slurs and some mild anxiety

a/n: i feel like there's a bit of gender stereotyping in here, but i couldn't really avoid it idk

Dan loves girls.

He loves the way their hair tumbles over their shoulders like silky waterfalls. He loves the way their dainty fingers fit tightly in his own. He loves it when they laugh, tinkle-y and soft as wisps of cloud. He loves how tight-fitting jeans accentuate their thighs, and low cut shirts expose their collarbones and cleavage. He loves the lipstick stains that pepper his neck. He loves the finely manicured nails scraping gently over his skin.

He loves girls.

When his girlfriend presses him against the lockers in between classes and her breasts crowd his own chest, his lust and yearning spiral out of control. When his parents are out and she grinds into his quickly-forming bulge that night, he bites down eagerly on her bottom lip and lets out a soft moan.

Girls are gorgeous. Mascara makes their eyes pop, his heart flutters when they grin with their teeth, their own strength makes them as admirable as ever. Dan can still remember his first crush – a freckled, mousy-haired girl by the name of Liddy. Even though they were both eight at the time, her hazel eyes intrigued him and his stomach hopped on a rollercoaster whenever she spoke to him. Sitting opposite each other in class in Year 3, a friendship was quickly formed through a shared tin of colouring pencils and a common adoration for one specific picture book. Liddy wanted to swing on the swing sets with him, talk about her annoying older siblings and have play-dates with him every weekend.

Dan just wanted to hold her hand. The only times she let him occurred when the class had to walk in two straight lines, “holding your partner’s hand very, very tightly!” as Miss Blair would say.

Every other time, Liddy would tell him with an endearing laugh, “I don’t want boy germs! That’s gross.” She never meant it, but she also never failed to sink Dan’s naïve little heart.

Liddy moved away in Year 5. On the first day when she wasn’t sitting across from him like she usually did, or begging him to play tag once they’d finished morning tea, Dan got home and cried into his mother’s shoulder.

Dan loves girls. He’s loved them since he knew how to love them. So he’s confused when, 17 years old and sitting quietly at his friends’ table during lunch, he finds he can’t tear his eyes away from the lips of his best friend Asher.

Asher. A boy.

He doesn’t know what Asher’s talking about. All he knows is that staring at the boy’s lips makes a spark burst within his heart – a spark normally reserved for girls only. And it terrifies him.

Dan has a girlfriend. Dan loves his girlfriend. Dan loves kissing his girlfriend.

So why does he want to kiss Asher? Asher, with the painful dad jokes and the obsession with vomit-inducing country music and the blonde fringe that flops messily over his face, the fringe Dan would love to brush away so he can see his pretty blue eyes better – shit.

He doesn’t know what’s happening to him.

Dan knows about gay people. He knows one or two personally. His uncle is currently seeing another man. But Dan’s not gay. He can’t be gay. Not when he loves staring at his girlfriend's boobs and texting her heart emoticons until 1 am.

Dan decides that he’s fucked up. He’s broken. Something’s wrong with him. And he doesn’t tell anyone about it.

Months rattle by, filled to the brim with exams and friendship dramas and any other difficulties you can think of. And Dan never stops thinking about boys – in that way. He suppresses it. God, he tries so hard to suppress it. He even yanks open his grandmother’s Bible at one point to see what the supposed gay-hater has to say about all this. He doesn’t find anything useful.

But it isn't just Asher he stares at. His gaze lingers on the features of other boys – dark gentle eyes, wavy hair, other kissable lips – and he doesn’t know what do with himself and his hormones when he’s stood in a locker room surrounded by muscular, bare-chested boys. And it overwhelms him.

During one of his familiar 3 am Wikipedia odysseys, Dan is reminded of his identity crisis and worries for a moment before clicking off the page about the Battle of Sedan in 1870. He opens up the search bar on his phone.

I like girls and boys, he types with quivering thumbs.

Multiple websites and forums slide onto his screen. Dan considers them, before tapping one. Nearly an hour later and he’s managed to find satisfaction in the information he’s gathered. So far, his feelings suggest he’s bisexual – attracted to males and females. Or he could be pansexual, but he doesn’t really understand that one, so he discards it for the moment.

“Bisexual.” Dan whispers it into the pitch black shadows of his bedroom, the only things willing to listen. It sounds…odd on his tongue. He’s never considered himself something other than straight, so he’s not sure how he feels about being something else. He’s not even sure if he is something else.

Dan isn’t willing to accept it. No fucking way. He can’t be anything other than straight because…what if his parents find out? What if his friends find out? What if he gets bullied just for…staring at a guy too long or…being a complete weirdo by taking a guy’s hand or something? Dan’s anxieties suffocate him, and he fumbles to load up YouTube – a popular escape of his when everything becomes too much to handle.

All the vloggers he’s subscribed to – none of them have uploaded anything. Goddammit, where’s the new content? Dan wonders bitterly. Just when I really need you guys, you’re not there.

Okay, he might sound a little overdramatic. But YouTube is his counselling session and the YouTubers are his therapists. He’ll never tell his parents how much he needs a real one. They don’t have the money anyway.

In desperation, Dan clicks the first thing in his recommendations without even looking at the thumbnail. After four excruciating seconds of buffering, a face pops up on the screen. And not just any face. Dan’s stomach does that flippy-over thing again because of it. Shit, he needs to control that.

“Howdy folks, so this week I haven’t been on the internet like hardly at all, because I’ve been outside absorbing radiation into my face,” a pale-skinned, ebony-haired boy explains immediately to the camera.

Dan snorts a little at his words, partly listening and partly lost in his bright cerulean eyes. His eyes wander to his lips, his shoulders as they fill out a yellow-and-black check shirt, the light dusting of chest hair peering out from an open collar. He learns that the guy's name is Phil – or AmazingPhil – he tends to attract weird people/situations, and he’s a genius when it comes to editing. How does he even get those pictures to move across the screen? Dan asks himself incredulously.

When the video ends, Dan can’t help but feel a little disappointed. He tells himself it’s not because he misses looking at AmazingPhil’s face. Then his eyes drop to the subscriber count – over 6000 people watch his videos. Dan shakes his head in disbelief, hits subscribe and enters his channel to find a new video. (Just to see if this guy is really worth his time, Dan tries to convince himself).

*

Dan loves boys.

He loves staring when shirts cling to their muscular frames. He loves listening to their voices, low and sultry with the occasional endearing voice crack. He loves it when they push back their hair and expose their whole face. He loves the strong curves of their jaw, the broad shoulders, the way their Adam’s apple dances when they swallow. He loves how strong their arms feel beneath his hands. He loves how protected his fingers are when they’re curled in those of another boy.

He loves boys. But he hasn’t entirely accepted it yet.

Concealing his feelings is harder than he expected. Hiding spontaneous erections, losing himself in a boy’s eyes, relentlessly reassuring his girlfriend that he still loves her – those are just some of the difficulties he faces. He joins forums and talks about what he’s going through. He tries imagining himself in a relationship with a boy, just to see if he’d really want it. He does.

Dan's girlfriend is a bit of a challenge. He does love her, but this sexuality crisis chucks a wall between them and Dan is petrified. What if she finds out? What if she thinks he's gay and ditches him? What if she tells the whole school, and the story spreads and people call him faggot and queer and – god forbid – his parents find out?

It isn’t his girlfriend who tells the whole school.

The day after a blurry house party, some guy he’s never spoken to jogs up to him and asks, “Is it true you hooked up with Lucas last night?”

Dan’s stomach plummets. All he remembers from the party is dancing bodies, some kind of fight between two dickheads, and downing an unhealthy amount of alcohol before flirting with a dark-haired guy – oh. Oh.

Lucas. The boy in his biology class he may or may not have fantasised about. Dan blinks and all of a sudden hazy memories flash through his brain. He sees Lucas pressed against a wall, feverishly sticking his tongue down Dan's throat and…Dan loves it. He kisses the boy with a fierce intensity, fingers trailing up his arms and under his shirt and through his hair, and it feels so right. Moments later Lucas takes his hand and fumbles with the door handle of the closest bedroom.

Dan squeezes his eyes shut and buries his face in his hands. He doesn’t remember anything else after that. Except a feeling of ecstasy. But he knows he didn’t sleep with Lucas – his ass doesn’t hurt and he’s pretty sure an experience like that would be stuck in his mind for all eternity.

So…a blowjob. Or something like that. Fuck.

Everyone’s talking about it. The hushed voices intensify when Dan passes Lucas in the hallway; the boy’s eyes are trained to the old lino tiles and his face is flushed red. Dan wants to apologise. But Lucas avoids him at all costs.

Dan's girlfriend breaks it off as the school days ends. She snarls at him with spite behind her eyes in the hallway and calls him a worthless fag. The words tear Dan's heart to pieces.

That night, tears clouding his vision and thoughts caught up in a hurricane, he opens YouTube again and struggles to find AmazingPhil’s channel. By now he’s been subscribed for a few months, and he just can’t get enough of the dark-haired boy. Not only does he take Dan’s breath away, but his fears and anguish as well. Phil’s channel is a safe haven, and Dan can’t get enough.

After ten videos, he decides to open up Twitter again and loads his hundredth tweet to Phil, clinging to the frail hope that one day the guy will reply. He doesn’t expect to receive one that very night.

haha ^.^ thank you & I think we’d be good friends :) @danhowell

Dan’s heart stutters. Stops. Restarts. He doesn’t even remember what he said first. His jaw hangs slack as he receives the notification and his eyes scan once, twice, a billion times over the small tweet. He favourites it, before rolling over and screaming into his pillow.

AmazingPhil just replied to him. Phil Lester, a god – out of everyone, he noticed him. Dan looks back at his phone, and now his hands are trembling and he wants to cry for a different reason.

For the first time in a long time, Dan falls asleep happy.

*

Dan loves girls and boys.

He loves the way they laugh, giggling, snorting or letting out obnoxious guffaws. He loves the shape of their faces and how they look when they smile. He loves the feeling of their lips pressed to his skin, whether gentle or rough. He loves noticing details about them – the crinkles behind their eyes, the freckles on their nose, the bitten nails, the curve of their hips. He loves holding their hand or running his fingers through their hair or tying their shoes for them.

He loves girls and boys. And he’s almost comfortable with that.

But Dan loves one boy specifically. He currently has his head resting on this boy’s chest, his curly hair brushing against this boy’s neck as he lays between his legs. The boy’s arms are encircling his waist and playing with his fingers. A movie is running on the old TV, but Dan can barely pay attention to it.

He loves Phil. It’s an unalterable fact. He’s loved Phil since he discovered his videos. But meeting him for the first time, sinking into his arms at the train station, clinging to his hand, spending the day with him in Manchester…Dan has fallen in love with him.

He doesn’t know if Phil loves him back.

Dan’s eyes flutter closed for a moment, and he allows himself to focus on Phil’s chest as it rises and falls beneath him, Phil’s fingertips dipping and swirling over his hands, Phil’s cheek resting partially atop his head. He is surrounded by Phil. And he loves it.

But Phil…Phil won’t want to be with him. Dan is a disaster of a human being, he’s worthless and immature and his body is just disgusting and…he doesn’t even know if Phil likes boys. And besides, why would Phil – who’s four years older than him and has experienced so much more – ever love him in that way?

Dan hasn’t kissed a boy since the Lucas incident. He’s not entirely sure he’ll be very good at kissing Phil.

The movie comes to an end, sooner than expected, and Dan and Phil are still cuddled on the green and blue duvet, watching the credits roll by. They lie there in peaceful silence for a few moments before Phil breaks it.

“I don’t want you to go home,” he mumbles shyly into Dan’s hair.

Dan isn’t expecting those words, and his stomach somersaults when he hears them. Warmth quickly blooms on his cheeks, and yet his heart breaks at the sorrow weighing upon Phil’s voice. Phil shouldn’t be sad. Phil doesn’t deserve to be sad.

Nerves coursing through his veins, Dan turns in Phil’s lap and stares up at him, placing one hand on his chest to remain steady. He waits until Phil's electric blue eyes meet his dark ones and draws a small breath. "You are my home," he tells him sincerely.

And then Phil does the last thing he expects. There’s fingers on his cheek and a warm look in Phil’s eyes, and they’re kissing.

Dan takes a second to register what’s happening – Phil’s lips are soft like cushions pressing gently against his own, almost afraid that Dan will break. And then Dan kisses back, deepening it, a passionate affirmation that he wants this, god he wants this so bad. Phil tastes like winter, dew-drops and the galaxy, and he smells like safety and scented candles as his fingers tangle in Dan’s hair. They’re close, so close, and Phil is tugging Dan forward, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip and Dan almost opens his mouth to allow entrance when he realises –

He’s kissing a boy for the second time in his life. He loves it. He’s hooked on Phil, but it’s overwhelming him.

Dan accidentally lets out a muffled grunt and pulls away, winding his arms around Phil’s neck as he pauses. His eyes fall shut. He desperately fills his lungs, breathless after the kiss. He can feel Phil’s concerned gaze without even looking at him.

“Dan…” Phil murmurs anxiously. “Are you alright? Did you…not want this?”

Immediately shaking his head, Dan lifts his head and meets Phil’s fearful eyes. “No, no, I do…I do want this,” he says quietly, reassuring him with a gentle peck on the lips. “It’s just…it’s been a while since I kissed a boy, and I’m still…adjusting to my sexuality, I guess. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Phil sighs softly and brushes his fringe out of his eyes, before pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You don’t need to apologise for anything. I’m sorry, for rushing you and pressuring you,” he tells him.

“But…but wouldn’t you want someone who actually knows their own identity? I’m so fucked up, Phil, I can’t even kiss you properly,” Dan says, averting his eyes to his lap.

“Hey.” There’s pressure on his jaw as Phil gently lifts his head up. Dan struggles not to look at him until Phil brushes his thumb over the corner of his lip. “I’ll wait for you – for as long as you need,” Phil says. “And for the record, that’s one of the best kisses I’ve ever had.”

Red spreads across Dan’s cheeks and he leans forward, hiding his smile in Phil’s shoulder. “I think I’m in love with you,” he blurts into the boy’s t-shirt, the words making it past his lips before he can even register them.

But Phil doesn’t reject him. Instead, he seems to sigh in relief and plants a lingering kiss on the top of Dan’s head. “Thank god. I was thinking the same thing.”

*

Dan loves girls and boys. And that’s okay.

phanfics

[saving-people-shipping-things]

Sick of Losing Soulmates: Part 1

Title: Sick of Losing Soulmates: Part 1

Pairing: Cas x Reader

Theme song: “Sick of Losing Soulmates” by Dodie

Word count: 2,690

Request: @amy-de-l-abc requested a Cas fic and I’d had this one mulling around for a while now, so here it is! :)

A/N: So this was originally intended to be a one shot, but it sort of got away from me. I had the idea of a story where the reader is working for Crowley, but is also in a relationship with Cas and has to keep the two separate somehow. Why is she working for Crowley? Will she be able to keep it a secret? What happens if Cas finds out? You’ll have to read and see . . . I’m not sure how many parts it will be, but I’m guessing two or three. Let me know if you want to be tagged in future fics!

You always hated the smell down here. And the lighting. And how cold it was. Everything, all of it, it reminded you of years in your past you tried to forget. It reminded you of flashes of figures that came back to you in your dreams. It tasted like hopelessness and smelled like death.

Just how Crowley liked it.

You followed him to his throne, where one of his demonic henchmen stood with a clipboard, ready to read His Majesty the list of traitors who needed sentences to determine the severity of their punishment. The demon leered at you, and if your stomach weren’t already in knots, you would have bared your teeth or flipped him off. Something to make Dean proud.

“Sir,” the demon said, turning his attention to Crowley. “We’ve got quite the list today, so if you don’t mind, I think it’d be best if we got started right away.”

“Can’t a king get a minute around here to breathe?” Crowley grumbled, all but flopping into his throne. You stayed a safe distance away from them both. Or as safe as you could get when you were in the heart of Hell. Your fingers itched for a weapon—a knife, a gun, a big stick, it didn’t matter.

“Will all due respect, sir, the prisoners are getting restless. We’ve lost three guards already.” The demon cast his gaze back to you, as if his problems were your fault somehow. Tingles ran up and down your spine, like tiny spiders.

Crowley’s dark eyes flicked to you. “You don’t have anywhere to be, do you, Kitten?”

“Don’t call me that,” you snarled. “And yeah, actually. I have to be back at the bunker like five minutes ago.”

Crowley gave a soft chuckle, but you’d known him long enough to recognize there was no humor behind the noise. “That question was a courtesy, Kitten. I wasn’t actually giving you permission to leave yet.”

Of course he wasn’t. “Crowley, we’ve talked about this. If you’re going to make me do all of this, you have to give me a little a freedom. They’ll get suspicious if I don’t go back soon.”

You stared at each other, neither of you blinking, both of you sizing the other up. A muscle near his eye twitched, almost imperceptibly, but you were attuned to those sorts of movements. As a hunter, you were always sizing a person up for potential weaknesses.

“What a strange being you are,” the demon mused in your direction. “Questioning the king of Hell, like you’re his superior.”

Crowley waved a hand to silence him. “Fine,” he relented. “But our next meeting will be longer. Text me with any updates. And I expect you to get your hands on something worthwhile the next time I see you, otherwise your friends the Winchesters will face the consequences. I won’t take no for an answer.”

It was his usual threat, his typical farewell to you, and you always rolled your eyes at him to show you weren’t afraid. But secretly, you wouldn’t dare test that promise. “Great. Can I go now?”

He snapped his fingers, and there you were, back by your car in the darkened parking lot. You put your face in your hands and let out a long sigh. How had it already been nine months of this?

#

“Freaking finally!” Dean called out from the kitchen as you descended the stairs, paper bag in hand. “How long does it take to pick up a few burgers and beers?”

“Calm down, drama queen.” You handed him the takeout and shrugged off your jacket. “There was a long line. I had to wait behind this old lady who couldn’t decide between sweet potato fries or curly fries.”

Dean wrinkled his nose. “Is there even a choice? Who would go for fried vegetables over deliciously seasoned bits of crispy heaven?”

“Maybe people who actually want to live to reach fifty?” Sam suggested. He smiled at you as you slid him his salad.

Dean grumbled something under his breath, but you didn’t catch it. You restrained from snorting at the noise he made after biting into his burger.

“Pretty good, huh?” You said.

He gave you a thumbs up. “Definitely worth the wait.”

“Where’s Cas?” You asked when you glanced around and couldn’t find the angel.

“Can’t keep your hands off each other for two seconds.” Dean shook his head at you, then dodged the balled up napkin you lobbed at his head.

“Shut up. I haven’t seen him all day. Isn’t he back from that case yet?”

“Last I heard he was going to check out another house.” Sam scrolled through his phone. “He texted me a couple hours ago. Looks like the demons really spread themselves out this time.”

Without any warning, Cas appeared behind him. He only looked at you, though, as if the others didn’t exist.

“Speak of the devil,” Dean said.

Cas blinked, then turned to him. “I’m not the devil, Dean.”

“It’s an express—never mind,” Dean said, knowing he’d never be able to explain it to Cas without taking several minutes.

Paying Dean no more attention, Cas swooped down to give you a quick kiss, which you leaned into with a smile. You hadn't thought the angel would be one for public displays of affection, but any sign of a hardened or more serious exterior melted when he was with you. You ignored the sound of Dean gagging, as well as the sound of Sam slapping Dean.

"Stop it," Sam chastised.

"I'm sorry, they're making me lose my appetite," Dean said.

"You're being dramatic." You twined your fingers through Cas' as he took a seat by you. The angel didn't eat, of course, but he was all too happy to keep you company whenever he had the chance.

"So, Cas," Sam attempted to change the subject. "How was the case? Any luck?"

Cas sighed, and the crease in his forehead appeared. You frowned at him. You never liked to see those wrinkles on him. It meant he was distracted, unhappy. Trying to get him to relax was already a challenge.

"That bad, huh?" Dean said.

"I managed to get rid of a few demons." Cas' voice was a deep rumble, but you caught the edge to it. "But I could never get them all. They seemed to be scattered everywhere, but they're all connected. I think they might be planning something."

Sam's eyebrows furrowed. "Planning what?"

"I don't know, but it can't be good."

You squirmed in your chair, poking at your glob of ketchup with a fry. Dean, who had been trying to fatten you up ever since you started working with them, flicked his gaze between your plate and your face. He looked like he was trying to read a foreign language.

"Not hungry?" He said.

You shrugged. "Eh. Just tired."

Now Cas looked concerned, but you didn't dare meet his eyes. It was bad enough trying to lie to Sam and Dean. You nibbled on the end of the fry in an attempt to draw the attention away from you.

"I did find this." Cas pulled his phone from his trench coat and opened a picture, sliding it across the table. Sam and Dean leaned forward to inspect it, but it only took you a glance to know what the strange symbol was.

"What is that?" Dean picked up the phone to look closer.

"I'm not sure. I've never seen those kinds of symbols before. But it was drawn in human blood." The rasp to Cas' voice became more prominent with disgust.

"Is it some kind of summoning ritual?" Sam suggested.

You, of course, knew what it was. Crowley had told you months ago. But you'd been hoping none of the boys would discover it. It made everything so much messier.

"I'll have to go back and see. That is, if the demons haven't already covered their tracks," Cas said. "I'll check again in a bit."

"No." You said quickly, your other hand shooting out to rest on his, like you were scared of him leaving right then. They all raised their eyebrows at you, and you wondered if your face looked as red as it felt. "Just--why don't you stay here for the night? I've missed you."

Dean gagged again. Cas' worried expression softened, his shoulders slumping a little.

"I can go tomorrow instead."

You grinned widely at him and kissed his cheek. "What would I be without you?"

As soon as the conversation moved to a safer topic, you allowed yourself a moment to catch your breath. The charade had been going on for close to a year, and yet you hadn't gotten used to it. It was a wonder you were able to handle the pressure at all.

Cas' thumb rubbed circles on your palm, calming your heart rate. Maybe it was the small wonders that allowed you to go on.

#

It was late into the night when you excused yourself to shower and change into pajamas. Hair up in a messy bun, you tapped on your phone screen, sending a text.

They know about the rituals.

As you chewed your thumbnail, which was already cracked and bleeding, a response came back.

How much?

Crowley, as always, wasn't a man of many words when it came to technology. He much preferred in person meetings with long, dramatic monologues. You definitely preferred this.

Just that the demons are up to something, but not what. They're going to look into it more tomorrow. You should clear everyone out.

I'm not going to bloody flee. We're close.

Close enough to finish before tomorrow?

If we're not finished, we'll take care of it.

Your heart jumped into your throat. You knew what "take care of it" meant. It meant bloodshed. It meant bad news for whoever was involved.

It meant endangering Cas.

But what choice did you have?

"Who are you texting?"

You squeaked and turned to face Cas standing in the doorway. God, he was quiet. Stuffing your phone into your sweatshirt pocket, you put on a brave face, a wide smile, a careful facade. Hide the truth. It had been your mantra for nine months. Which meant nine out of the twelve you'd been with Cas, your stomach had been in knots, your head in utter agony from the migraines. Your nightmares were fueled on guilt, which only made you more restless when the lights were turned off.

"Nobody," you said. Then, "Jody." Cas was unreadable, and your chest rose and fell too shallowly for you to think straight. He'd know something was up. You waved your hands in a dismissive manner. "She wanted some advice on teenage girls. No biggie. Are you coming to bed?"

"In a minute," he said. He still didn't move from the doorway. Your hands clutched at your phone tighter inside your pocket, fingers slick with sweat. "I have to go back."

"Go back where?"

"Wisconsin. To the warehouse where the symbol was."

Now you were sure you were going to throw up. "What? Why? I thought you said it could wait until tomorrow?"

Cas shook his head and stepped into your room. "It won't take long. I just have to check out a few more things I might have missed."

"But--it's not going anywhere, right? Just stay with me." You reached out to take his hands, hoping yours had dried enough to not draw suspicion. "Please."

The internal struggle Cas was having with himself showed on his face, in his slightly squinted eyes and parted lips. But he pulled away, leaving you breathless. "I can't. I'm worried something will happen if I don't act now. They could be up to something big, Y/N."

"What's one more night?"

"Y/N--"

You blurted out the first thing that popped in your head. "I know what they're up to."

Silence. You almost wished you'd pass out, just so something would happen. Something other than him staring at you like you'd hit him.

"What?"

"I--I recognized the symbol." You licked your lips, but it only seemed to make them drier.

The intensity of Cas' blue eyes had always made you weak in the knees, but now they made your legs tremble for an entirely different reason. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

"I didn't realize what it was until now." It was a feeble excuse, but you hoped the year you'd been together, the amount of trust you'd built, would be enough to believe you on this. Every time you relied on him trusting you, you felt horrible. But it was all for him, you told yourself. Him, Sam, and Dean. It was all for their protection. "I saw it in a book years ago."

"And?" He prompted you.

You were too on the spot to lie, so you gritted your teeth and told the truth. "It is a summoning ritual. It's to bring back the dead Knights of Hell, but it's incredibly complicated."

Cas rubbed his face with a hand, color draining from his skin. He paced a small circle in the room, looking utterly lost.

"This is all the more reason to go now," he said. "We have to stop--"

"We will," you assured him. You sat on the edge of the bed, too weak to hold yourself up anymore. Crowley was going to kill you. Maybe literally. "But not yet. And definitely not on your own. Look, I'm exhausted, I won't be any use to you tonight. But if we wait until tomorrow, I can go with you. And they're not close enough to do anything soon from the looks of that picture. There's still tons that needs to be prepared."

Now Cas looked like the angel you'd first met: lost, confused, serious, and on guard. You'd seen a different Cas in the past months, a Cas that laughed and told epic stories about life in Heaven when things were peaceful. You'd seen how gentle he could be with small children and animals and you. You'd felt his warm body pressed against yours at night as he hummed so you could fall asleep, and he'd stay with you like that until you woke up. You'd held his hand and leaped into his arms after a successful hunt and kissed him wildly and passionately.

All of that seemed to melt away like it had never happened. And it killed you.

"But you didn't say anything before now?" He said.

"It--it just occurred to me," you said. "I told you, I'm tired. I wasn't thinking straight. Can we please just take care of it tomorrow?"

He nodded, a small movement, and it didn't meet his eyes. They were cold, didn't hold any warmth toward you in that moment. But he shrugged off his trench coat and pulled back the covers to the bed. "Fine. We'll go tomorrow."

"Thank you," you mumbled.

He didn't answer. He didn't look at you at all as you finished getting ready for bed and crawled in next to him. And when you turned off the lights, he didn't make any move to hold you like he normally did. His back was to you.

You sighed, but didn't say anything and didn't try to move closer. All that mattered was you'd bought him some time. At least you'd done that.

You took the opportunity of Cas paying you no attention to turn the brightness down on your phone and sneak another text to Crowley.

I had to tell Cas what was up. I'm going with him tomorrow to shut it down.

It took longer for him to respond this time. You wondered if he was staring at it in shock as much as you were. How could you have gotten into a mess this deep?

You what?

I didn't have any other choice. I had to keep his trust. Finish up quick.

You don't give the orders, kitten.

I didn't have a choice.

There was another excruciatingly long period of time between texts. Then, a new one from him came in. Every part of you went numb.

We need to meet. Now.

Part 2

[flauntpage]

Setting the Record Straight with the North Dakota Radio Host Who Shredded Our City

By now, you know about the North Dakota radio host who ripped Philadelphia on Monday, describing his horrendous experience at Lincoln Financial Field in a letter titled, “Dear Amazon, anywhere but Philadelphia.” 

Joel Heitkamp explained that his family was shoved and spat upon and had full beer cans thrown at them. He claims he was headbutted by a drunk Eagles fan and that police officers were complacent with the boorish behavior.

“I have never seen such a display in my life,” Heitkamp wrote.

He followed up with Philly Mag on Tuesday in a more tempered question and answer format, an interview where he didn’t really back down from his criticism of Philadelphia but did mention the hospitality of a “good guy named Ed.”

That’s Ed Callahan, the guy who runs the “Eagles Mobile” tailgate. A Crossing Broad reader suggested we get in touch with Ed for his side of the story, so we did. Ed was nice enough to spend a few minutes on the phone Friday morning, and so was Joel, who got in touch with us later in the day.

Here’s what Ed had to say:

Ed Callahan: Let me give you the whole story as I know it. I do not know what happened to him inside the game. We had nothing to do with that. We have a following in North Dakota, our tailgate, because we’ve been welcoming North Dakota State Bison fans. Some of the folks up there reached out to Heitkamp and had him get in touch with me. We had coordinated earlier in the week. I not only welcomed him to the tailgate, but I arranged for the Green Room bar at 20th and Green Street to be the site for his Friday broadcast back to North Dakota. He interviewed me over the air for about ten minutes Friday afternoon. We also invited him to come down to the tailgate. He showed up and spent about an hour and a half with us. We did shots with him. I told him, about wearing Vikings gear, as long as you’re at my tailgate, you’re safe. Once you cross tenth street, my hands are clean. I have no responsibility for what happens then. Now, on Monday, I texted him and followed up and mentioned that it was a tough loss for them but that we enjoyed meeting you and your company. That’s when he unleashed on what happened in the stadium. But he said, he said to me, this was all in text, ‘you guys were great, I really enjoyed your time.’ Then he shoots out his story. Now, I think he wrote his story in the airport, and it got back to his station in Fargo, and his producer took the picture of my tailgate that I sent to Joel so he could find us, and put that picture as a header on the online story. I don’t know if you notice that when it pops up as the thumbnail.

Crossing Broad: Yeah, I saw that.

Callahan: It’s got a picture of my tailgate, and no mention in the story of how he was treated by us and how we arranged things for him, how we bent over backwards to welcome him. He enjoyed our hospitality for a couple hours, not only him, but his wife, his sister – not the Senator sister, another sister.

Now, he’s a pretty gregarious guy, okay? I think he’s a flame thrower in Fargo on his radio show. So, I have no doubt in my mind, that while he was treated like shit in that stadium, he wasn’t exactly taking tea and cookies to the Calcutta pool with Mother Theresa either. I waited three days after reading that story, because I read the story after exchanging those texts with him. And I went back to him – I’m a 28-year retired Naval officer – the first thing I said to him was, ‘Joel, one of the first things I learned in the Navy is never write anything for publication when you’re angry. Here’s what I’m pissed at. I’m pissed that we had reached out to you, that we had made arrangements for you, and you use a picture of my tailgate in that screed against Philadelphia.’ I said that’s unsatisfactory. He apologized. And he said he’s been over the air in Fargo saying how great we were and how accommodating we were and all of that. But hey, he’s miles away. He also said, ‘talk to the Philly papers,’ because he has gotten back to some folks I guess, and mentioned us. I didn’t see the article that was referenced in the Crossing Broad story by the Philly Mag guy. Did he mention anything positive in that interview or was it just not included?

CB: He did mention you guys there. Let me read the section. He said, quote, “we had been invited to a tailgate by a good guy named Ed. He told us that it was going to be interesting and that once we left the tailgate and went into the stadium, we were on our own.”

So he did mention you guys, but not in the original letter that he wrote. He didn’t talk about the positive experience he had at the tailgate until he spoke with Philly Mag later in the week.

Callahan: Okay, I saw that original story.

CB: Is it disappointing to you that he would leave out the part about your tailgate in his original letter?

Callahan: Oh, absolutely. But let me tell you also what he said. He said that the picture of our tailgate was attached to that story by his producer, and when he got back to North Dakota, he chewed them all out for doing that. And he did apologize, and I accepted his apology for lumping us in with whatever happened to him.

As far as I’m concerned, he was a pretty good guy. We had fun with him, trading barbs back and forth and trash talking, having a few drinks and enjoying ourselves. I also think the ass whipping that the Vikings got contributed to some of the vitriol in that letter.

Callahan and Heitkamp appear together in this picture posted to the tailgate’s Facebook page. Ed is on the right and Joel is in the middle:

And Heitkamp hosted his radio show on Friday from the Green Room in Fairmount:

Joel was good enough to give us a shout a little later on Friday, after wrapping up his show, to offer up his side of the story. We continued the discussion about his experience in Philadelphia and talked about some of the ways in which we can address the fan behavior problem:

Heitkamp: The picture of Ed’s tailgate shouldn’t have been up there. I’m not trying to throw my producer under the bus, but after we wrote it and sent it and she posts it, she used the Philly bus that was sent to us. I apologized to Ed for that, because that RV wasn’t a bad memory for me. I want to be upfront about that. The other thing about it was, whether or not I put Ed in the article, I knew that this article was going to cause trouble. I did. I was talking in generalities, and in fairness to Ed and his tailgate, and what I learned about Philly fans, I’m not not sure Ed wanted me to say, in any way, shape, or form, that he welcomed me around. I mean, think about it. Should I have put him in there? Probably. But in terms of, ‘boy, you didn’t mention the good,’ that’s pretty minor compared to the population of fans where it wasn’t good. I think what pushed me over the top was, well, number one, getting headbutted wasn’t good. But the more important thing was when they circled my wife and my sister and told them that they were going to rape them up the ass. That pushed it over the top for me.

Crossing Broad: I originally thought, and Ed mentioned this, that maybe you were just writing emotionally and off the cuff after a difficult weekend. But you haven’t backed away from any assertions about Philly fans, have you?

Heitkamp: No, I haven’t. And I haven’t because I saw, first hand, all of it at its worst. People have been sending me blog posts and Youtube and all of this, saying (audio cuts out briefly). And I knew that was going to come. Absolutely knew it was going to come. Then it was because, ‘we lost.’ But, Kevin, this went way further than that. It did. Beer cans thrown at you, people getting up and screaming in your face. I mentioned what happened to my wife. Check with the Vikings’ parents. They were sitting in a group and had beer cans thrown down on them. They ended up having to go up in the stands and arrest people and take them out. I’m not lying to you when I tell you that a security guy at the stadium told me, after the screaming in my face, to ‘get the hell out of here.’ It was, ‘you were never welcome here’ kind of stuff. This is a guy working for the stadium. And so, here’s what I’ll stick by – I’ll stick by my challenge of, when the Eagles play the Cowboys, the Chief of Police and the Mayor of Philly need to put Cowboy jerseys on, Cowboy baseball caps on, and just see how bad it is. Walk around. Walk around the tailgate and see what happens to them.

CB: My take on this has always been that the decent, law-abiding, tax-paying normal Philadelphian looks at those people and doesn’t feel any sort of pride or connection to that. But I also don’t think it’s just a ‘Philly problem.’ I mentioned the Giants and Dodgers fan stabbing from a few years ago (in another article). There’s been awful stuff at foreign soccer games. So I think where you start to lose some people is when this is described as a ‘Philly’ thing when we sort of look at it as a human problem, as trashy people acting like trash. Does that make sense?

Heitkamp: I understand what you’re getting at, I just disagree with it. I think they take specific pride in what they do. And I think the average fan that wouldn’t do that, I saw a number of fans there that were just chuckling while this was going on even though they weren’t the ones screaming and getting in your face. And the other thing, Kevin, is that it wasn’t an age thing. It wasn’t ‘hey these are 25 and 30 year olds.’ This was something that I think people have grown up with and taken some pride in, because it was 50 and 60 year olds, people my age. I just think it’s become acceptable. That’s what repulses me the most, that it’s acceptable.

CB: So, let’s “advance” the story here. That’s the old industry term, yeah? Let’s move the story forward. Outside of just attrition, and that mindset going away over time, what is the solution here? What can law enforcement do? What can the mayor do? Are there steps to be taken by the normal, decent Philly resident?

Heitkamp: Sure. Here’s what I would do if I was the Philly mayor, and I doubt he’d do it because it will cost him some votes. But first off I’d place undercover police so they can monitor all of this. Second, there’s no way I’d let people start tailgating at 9 a.m. for a game that’s going to start in the five o’ clock hour. No way I’d do that, they’re gonna be hammered, and hammered badly. I’d certainly monitor throwing beer cans at people. The city itself has to monitor physical violence and has to monitor people that are committing acts of terror, and that’s what they were doing. For my wife and my sister to go through that, that’s completely ridiculous. And the other thing I would do if I was the Eagles themselves, I would monitor every arrest, and if I found out that those people were season ticket holders, I wouldn’t let them be a season ticket holder. Because that would stop it. People would go, ‘I don’t want to lose my season tickets!’ And I know that there are a lot of people who tailgate who don’t have tickets and don’t go into the game, but if you put a list on there of people who can’t be STH anymore, you’re telling me as passionate as those fans are, they they wouldn’t stop it or curtail it? You bet it would. The other thing is, the NFL. The NFL itself has this family reputation that it wants. If the NFL wants to be represented that way, fine. But the ratings are down. They’ve been struggling with the general public over their image, if they want that to be their image, they need to look at one of their members and do something about it.

And one more for you, and this one is gonna blow you away a little bit – I believe that if somebody from my team, that if people wearing my colors are going in and the home team does that, I’m gonna get involved (in stopping other fan’s behavior). (Vikings owner) Zygi Wilf needs to deal himself a hand. He needs to call ownership of the Eagles and talk to the commissioner and advocate on behalf of his fans that had all of this done to them.

CB: I’ll leave you with this one; sounds to me like you think the change really begins with the neutral fan who is complacent in letting this happen, and not even necessarily the offenders themselves.

Heitkamp: I agree, and it has to start at the top of the Eagles’ organization. The Ed Callahans of the world are not the problem. Ed, while we took a lot of crap from them when we got to the tailgate, we should have! We were wearing Viking colors and that’s good rivalry stuff. I get that. But that isn’t the problem. You can deal with that and have fun with that. It’s the physical violence, it’s the vulgarity, it’s the intimidation. It is women who spent money on tickets, leaving, leaving at halftime and saying, ‘how are we going to get out of here?’ No woman that bought a ticket to a game should have to talk about the threat of being raped.

As we wrapped up the discussion, Joel wanted to throw in one more thing about the Philadelphia fans who have been sending messages of apology for the fan behavior:

Heitkamp: I keep emailing them back, saying, ‘it’s not your fault.’ It’s not your fault. It should be directed at Eagles’ management and the city. If those two do their jobs, then it’ll get fixed. But it’s not your fault.

So there you have it, some clarity on the tailgating situation and doubling-down on the in-stadium fan behavior.

Setting the Record Straight with the North Dakota Radio Host Who Shredded Our City published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

[theisbifamilyisbi]

TIFI Chapter 1.7 Coup de Legacy

I think that’s a fitting title. 

In this chapter, I go on a roller coaster. 

This is an ominous beginning. And don’t be fooled, the household is so big it can’t handle a thumbnail.

Reeses cares more about the kids than their own parents. 

Reeses: “If I kill this child, would I be the next in line for heir?”

Lollipop: “Try me bitch.” 

For whatever reason, Twix is always geting in trouble and I never actually see her do anything. Although there was a trap in the bathroom for like two chapters that no one has hit yet (These gross peons don’t wash their hands after they use the toilet!) that I think she put there. 

Twix: “Watcher, why do I have to stand in the GROSS TOILET AREA?”

Yes, I am making the watcher from Sims Medieval their god.

Someone left their smol animal in the snow and it might be dying. I’m not sure.

Pocky: “If it’s a dog can I has it?”

Pocky has the dog lover trait and I don’t know if my game can handle the size of this household and pets at the same time.

Someone used the toy chest Issy wished for! Wow. I think that’s Twix? 

ISSY FOR THE LOVE OF-

Abraham is questioning his life choices. Most notably: the one where he married the baby factory. 

Issy wanted a party, so I did a party. This was actually a lot of fun. 

I DIDN’T INVITE YOU GET LOST.

Beau: “THE VOICES, THEY SPEAK! I LISTEN NOT TO THEIR CRIES”

MOCHI.

Don’t be fooled, Reeses peed himself at the same exact time as Mochi. -10 for me.

Reeses: “Who is this Reeses fellow who peed himself? I know no such candy man.”

This is the fun part where everyone gets presents, and Twix gets about ten because she just kept grabbing. 

Screenshots to prove it. 

Twix received three of the bee things, three toy ovens, three or four bears, and potentially a few more things I forgot about. Reeses got the video game, Mochi the easel, and I think Pocky got the fishbowl. 

Pretty fairy girl is pretty. I hope she makes nice kids to outgrow the ugly townies. Like Connor there. Connor married Tori Kimura in this chapter, somewhere, since Fiona McOld died and Iqbal Aldied.

I don’t know how I feel about this.

Lollipop: “Strange human, release me.”

Also, I think that’s the Langerak boy crushing on KitKat. 

Connor tell your son to STOP.

You know, Claire’s daughter hasn’t had much luck with her face these last few games I’ve played. Claire died this chapter. Actually, a lot of old people died.

I wonder if the graves slow my game?

WHERE ARE YOU TAKING MY HEIR. 

Yeah, that better be as far as you go. 

Even in the winter, people still enjoy the sandbox. That’s the Langerak kid who likes KitKat. 

Right, Snickers still exists by the way. This is him. He aged up. I forgot about him. 

Snickers: “If not for my good trait, I may have snapped and killed everyone here.”

o-O

This is the kid of the guy who Issy tried to flirt with when Abraham was playing hard to stalk get. I think he also liked one of the girls. Dunno. 

Look, here’s Twix getting in trouble again! I don’t know why. 

Snickers: *Snickering* “You’re in the way of the garbage.”

Twix: “Don’t you forget. I’m mean-spirited. I will make you c r y.”

I realized KitKat was missing. Here she is, on a random lawn doing homework. 

Here is a kid who looks like he might break his neck. I don’t know whose kid this is. Sorry. 

Abraham might burn down the house. 

Abraham did not burn the house down. However he has like a level 6 or 7 logic skill and is still level 2 in the medical career. Abraham pls. 

Also, that bush. That is the murder bush. 

I don’t care about the points I’ll lose: SOMEONE DIE.

Ah, our first victim.

Snickers: “This seems like an unsafe bush that I should not touch, as I am a precious u n k i l l a b l e child.”

KitKat got caught by the police for being out after curfew. Whoops.

KitKat: “I swear, wasn’t my fault officer.”

KitKat is grounded, among other upset moodlets. This means you can pretty much assume she’s entirely red for the rest of the chapter. 

I mean, that’s okay, it’s just not what you’re supposed to wear. 

Considering the fact KitKat has the natural cook trait and not Pocky, Pocky really likes cooking whereas KitKat has never touched the stove. 

All I’m saying is Reeses likes the kids more than anyone else. Skittles likes them when they’re in the other room, but Reeses takes care of them and stuff. 

Speaking of Skittles, I have no idea where she goes. She doesn’t do anything interesting which is why there are so few pictures of her. 

Issy: “WAFFLES!”

I had to remind you she was here. And that she’s pregnant. Again.

Were trying for a good portrait picture this time. Preferably brighter than the other one. 

Mochi was also painting at the easel she got for snowflake day. Pocky looked like they were about to fight as she walked past.

Also I thought this was a good shot to show off Mochi’s face. She has Abraham’s nose. 

Twix is in trouble yet again. Haha. 

Clearly the best place to bond. 

Mochi has finished her first painting! 

Prom overload coming. 

Mochi actually looks so good in her formal attire. 

Pocky looking freeesh. 

I mean, okay. I expected like, KitKat or Pocky. But that works. 

Helmut, is an incredibly average dude. But he’s sweet. He’s called her daily looking to chat. 

It’s kinda weird brother and sister are prom king and queen but I guess they don’t look too related.

Pocky didn’t really have much of a good night. 

EXCEPT FOR THIS. HAHAHA I APPROVE.

That’s the first time I’ve seen this message for prom, but WHAT THE HELL THAT’S SO MEAN.

Mochi found a dude, which is cool.

There was honestly so much more. SO MUCH MORE. But I figured it’s kind of boring to see the same messages so. 

Look at dem crowns. 

I am determined to get a decent painting of her. 

And then she went into labor. Snickers is concerned. 

Skittles does not care. 

Skittles: “Mother, you have had so many of us you should no longer feel pain.”

You would think Abraham would be kind of used to his wife having children by now. 

Issy: “Glow my child, shine!”

Sugar Daddy Isbi is actually very pretty when she grows up and I’m not sure what traits she has. I’ll remember them for the next update. 

So, KitKat was off on a date while Issy was giving birth. 

That’s the Langerak kid I think. They talked for like seconds. 

He left and went into the spa. KitKat didn’t seem to mind though.

KitKat: “I don’t do blondes.”

FUCK THESE LAMPS. THEY RUIN MY SHOTS.

Twix: “Isn’t that picture older than I am?”

SHE FINISHED IT TOO. WOOO.

Lollipop: “I don’t trust you to hold me, old man.”

Abraham: *Traumatized for life*

Sometime later, I forgot Twix existed and she aged up.

I don’t remember what trait she got either, since she’s not important and my game is closed and takes twenty minutes to open. Like Twix is so unimportant I always forget her name, I forgot to put her in my family memo where I keep track of traits and etc, and I keep think she’s Mochi.

The llama mascot is back. Abraham and he are ready to brawl. 

Issy: “Chicken legs, Daddy.”

Daddy: *Does not realize her nickname yet*

These two blocked the door for awhile. 

Why is your artistic ability regressing!? 

Skittles: “Mom I swear if you even THINK of having another baby-”

Snickers: “This house is already trash!”

KitKat: “Ooh, another date? Wait, what do you mean you’re not the blonde guy.”

Issy: “Waffles!” (:

KitKat: “Weren’t you into my sister?”

Rudolph: *sweating* “I’m tired okay.”

This child is not ready for what is going to be coming. 

Tanning at night, that makes sense. What, are you paling instead? 

Well, this was to be expected. 

KitKat: “If I date you can we not?”

Issy: “WHY WERE YOU TANNING AT NIGHT?”

KitKat: “MOM STAHP!”

Rekt.

Mother daughter bonding. Exactly what I want to see! 

And no fucking lamp in the way 

Shit. I get points off for this, because this is just sad. How do you get a toddler to pass out like this. 

I’m not sure where these ramen noodles came from. How do you even get ramen in this game? 

I updated the graveyard. It’s getting pretty full. 

Well damn, Mochi survived. 

I thought this was a nice shot, even if he’s out breaking curfew. 

Did I mention Issy decided she wanted another baby?

Other than this being a good movie, that’s me right now. 

Hooray! Lollipop’s birthday! She got the Perfectionist trait. I don’t know why I don’t have a screenshot of her.

Oh. I know why. 

Twix isn’t that ugly from the side like this.

Pocky: “It’s my birthday bitch and I’m going to fuck everything up.”

Yeah. 

She fucked it up.

Issy: “MY DAUGHTER IS LIKE ME!”

Well fuck, you rolled the insane trait.

Pocky: “What the fuck mom wasn’t talking to herself all these years!?”

Pocky: “I can feel it coming. The stupidity. The insanity.”

Please stop.

Pocky: “You can’t make me, Voice.”

Pls. Pls no. 

On that abrupt note, bye Reeses. 

Bye KitKat.

Onwards to PURPLE BABIES. 

Well this is awkward, Issy is literally still pregnant and I now need her to auto finish the Abraham portrait. 

Scoreboard:

Births: (9) +45 100K Simoleons: (1) +40 Honor Roll: (2) + 10

Bladder Fail: (5) -25 Passing Out: (2) -10

Total: 65

I went down :(

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