Heyheyhey so sorry to bother you i was wondering if i could get a continuation on 'roomate'?? /nf :DD

You can ignore this if you want, sorry afain- have a nice day!!!

Part One Here

Yeah, ok, the villain couldn’t fault their friend when the lamp shattered against the wall, barely missing the villain.

And sure, when Civilian only stared at them with wide eyes and didn’t speak, the villain couldn’t find it in themselves to place blame.

But when their food went untouched, a fully stocked fridge and pantry remained fully stocked, the villain had to speak up.

“Alright.” They began slowly, leaning against the counter. “Alright. I know this is an adjustment, but you still have to, you know, survive?”

“You could have poisoned everything.”

At least they still have the ability to speak, the villain thought sarcastically.

“I wouldn’t go through all this trouble,” They motioned vaguely around the comfortable room. “Just to slowly kill you.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s not supposed to be. Look, you don’t have to be happy with me. I don’t need you to be.” Lie lie lie lie lie. “But you still need to take care of yourself.”

“I was taking care of myself back home.” The civilian spoke so softly, in a way that only some super powered being could hear.

“I know you were, just work with me here. Um, these are all your favorites, right? Did I miss anything?”

The civilian had resigned to hugging their knees to their chest, thinking, always thinking, about what to do next.

“There’s a lot of tea, and I know I shouldn’t be feeding into your addiction, but I thought it might be a comfort.”

Silence.

Ok, then.

“The bed is adjustable, one of the ones you used to say would be nice to come home to after work, but not nice enough to spend the money on. You’d probably know it was adjustable if you bothered to use it.”

“Stop it.” The civilian snapped, the sound muffled from lowering their head to their knees. “Stop being nice.”

“Stop being nice?” They echoed back, half wondering if the super hearing had stopped working.

Then it clicked.

Stop being nice.

“Oh, I see.” They hesitantly sat next to their friend. “It would be easier for you to hate me if the food was poisoned, if there was no nice bed, if the paintings on the wall weren’t from your favorite artists.”

They spared a glance to the curled up civilian, evaluating this now one sided friendship.

“I’m not going to be cruel to you,” they began again. “just so you could justify your feelings. I’m sorry, but I can’t bring myself to do that, especially not to you.”

“But you can kidnap me?” The civilian had uncurled themselves, looking at the villain with an unfamiliar intensity. “That’s not cruel?”

At least they were talking again.

“When faced with the alternatives, no, it’s not. Do you really want to risk the off-chance of being acquainted with my alternate persona? I promise, this isn’t forever. It’s for your safety.”

“And my absence isn’t suspicious to anyone?”

The villain shrugged “Taken care of. I have a lot of strings I can pull.”

Silence. Another bearable (lie) thing for the villain.

Talk to me.

“The tea isn’t poisoned?”

The villain couldn’t help the smile blooming across their face.

“No. No, the tea isn’t poisoned. But at the rate you drink it, you’re probably poisoning yourself.”

“Healthier than all those sodas. At least switch to diet.”

“Over my dead body.”

The civilian winced, and hugged their knees tighter.

“You’re right. That was a poor choice of words.” The villain opened their mouth to continue, only to close it again, finding that they couldn’t say much

“I’ll eat.” The civilian muttered. “I will.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” The villain stood. “Is there anything else I could get for you? I worry that it’ll get boring. I know there’s the tv and all but-”

“Do you have any board games?”

The villain looked down at the civilian. “What?”

“Board games. You know, there’s typically a board, and game pieces, and then you-”

“I know what a board game is, but why?”

The civilian smiled, shakily and close lipped, but a smile nonetheless.

“For game night.”

Vacation

Tyrannous Basilton Grimm-Pitch doesn’t know how to fucking relax.

They’re all at a lovely beach, the sun is shining, the water is sparkling, and Baz looks like he’s sitting uncomfortably close to a smelly person on the train. All tense shoulders and legs tucked together, hands clasped in his lap. Even his expression is all scrunched up in more general distaste than usual.

Penny and Micah are swimming out in the water, splashing and laughing and flirting. Simon was hanging out with them, but when he glanced back at the beach, he saw his boyfriend sitting despondently under the umbrella, his shirt and shoes still on, lanky body tucked up onto a towel.

So Simon returns to the shore, shaking water from his bronze curls and coming to stand in front of Baz, purposefully dripping water onto his grey feet.

“You wanna come swim? The water feels great.” He says, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his back.

Baz glares at him, scooting out of the splash zone of his sopping boyfriend. “How could I swim when you brought the whole bloody ocean with you, Snow.”

Honestly, most things today are a pro rather than a con for Baz. His snarkiness isn’t totally justified.

The beach is beautiful, and the water does look nice to swim in. And Simon Snow in nothing but swim trunks and a smile is a thing to behold, truly. Tawny skin glowing in the sun, water sprinkled over it like someone placed individual diamonds among his freckles and moles. And Crowley, his eyes and hair are just radiant against the water and in the sun. But that’s the problem.

The sun.

The sun usually only bothers Baz in the mornings, mostly because he doesn’t like mornings. He supposes his eyes are just more sensitive to it than most people. You know, people who don’t have to drink blood to survive.

And that’s just it isn’t it? Baz and the fucking sun. He can wear sunglasses to take care of the eye sensitivity, but there’s just something about his skinny, lifelessly grey body being shown off in this sunny paradise that makes his insides twist and squirm anxiously.

He can see Bunce and her American boyfriend out in the water, their skin vibrant in the sun, two complementing shades of brown. And then there’s Snow, whose name does not match his skin tone at all. Simon looks like sunshine itself is beaming out of him.

Baz looks like a sad black and white film character next to them. He looks like he hasn’t seen the light of day for twelve years. He looks like a fucking vampire.

Which is why he hasn’t left the shade of the umbrella or taken off his shirt since they got here. He didn’t partake in the building of the small sandcastle city a few meters away from the umbrella, and he didn’t help Micah and Penny bury Simon in the sand. (Which had been a hilarious activity, as Simon’s wings and tail and squirming made it twice as more difficult than it should have been.)

The truly sad thing was, they were alone on this particular stretch of beach, and even around his boyfriend, who had giant red dragon wings and a fucking cartoon devil’s tail, Baz felt like the freak. Bunce wouldn’t judge, Baz knew that. And although he didn’t know Micah all that well, he seemed like a nice person. And Simon never cared about it after he realized Baz wasn’t going to drink all his blood and kill him. In fact, Simon thought Baz’s fangs were “wicked” and never seemed to mind his greyness.

Baz is the one holding himself back, and he knows it. But he can’t quite bring himself to push himself out of his own head and just enjoy the holiday at the beach.

Simon plops down on the dry sand beside Baz’s towel, still in the sun. “You okay?” He asks, squinting at Baz in a mixture of concern and the sun in his eyes.

Baz pretends to be totally indifferent. Insecure? Him? Of course not. He’s a Pitch. He has magic and fire running through his veins, he is totally not feeling like he should have just stayed at home.

Reaching around him to grab a water bottle from the cooler, Simon drips more water onto Baz, dampening his shirt a little. He smells like saltwater and sunscreen and that delicious sweet brown scent only Baz can pick up with his enhanced sense of smell.

“Stop dripping on me, Snow.” Baz snaps.

In response, Simon rapidly shakes out his hair like a dog, spraying water everywhere. Baz should have expected that.

“You should come swim.” Simon insists again, cracking open his water bottle and taking a long swig. “Then we could have enough people for chicken fights.”

Baz rolls his eyes and sneers a little. “What are you, twelve years old?”

Simon just shrugs. “I’m on holiday. And so are you. So pull the stick out of your arse and come play.”

“I don’t have a stick up my ass, Snow. I just don’t feel like getting a sunburn.”

Simon tilts his head to the side in thought. “Can vampires get sunburn?”

Baz doesn’t know, he just knows he doesn’t want to leave the safety of his spot under the umbrella. He doesn’t want to see his sickly pale chest in comparison to Simon’s golden one.

“Just put on sunblock and come out for a swim. You can swim, right?”

“Yes, I can fucking swim. I just dont want to.” Baz says, crossing his arms over his chest. He actually does want to swim. Even in the shade the day is warm, and a dip in the cool water would be pleasant.

Simon tugs on the sleeve of his tee shirt, smiling that infuriatingly pretty smile. “C’mon. Before the tide goes out.” He climbs to his feet and takes Baz’s hands, trying to pull him up. Baz makes his body go limp, refusing to move.

Simon let’s go of Baz’s hands after a few more useless attempts at getting him to stand, but in no way does he give up. He’s going to get Baz to enjoy this holiday, whether Baz wants to or not.

He has a vague idea of what’s got Baz all worked up. He knows that sometimes, Baz hesitates taking off his shirt around Simon. But Baz is beautiful and he deserves to have fun, so Simon isn’t going to let his insecurities ruin that.

So it is with the best intentions that Simon walks down to where the waves lap onto the shore and takes a huge glob of wet sand. Baz is too busy brooding to see it coming, and is helpless to stop Simon as he slaps the wet sand onto Baz’s perfect raven hair and scrubs it in like shampoo.

“SNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!” Baz shrieks, swatting Simon’s scheming hands away. He can feel water dripping down his neck and back, feel the grittiness of the sand on his scalp.

Simon dusts sand off his hands and smiles brightly at Baz. “Come swim. I think you have a little sand in your hair.”

Baz’s eye twitches, and that’s the only warning Simon gets before he lunges for him—a snarled “You’re so dead, Snow”—and then Simon is shrieking and running towards the water, Baz hot on his tail (literally).

Simon giggles maniacally as he gallops into the water. Baz is right behind him, swearing and promising to kill Simon as soon as he gets his hands on him.

They reach Penny and Micah, and Simon darts behind his best friend and uses her as a human shield against Baz’s wrath.

“Hey Simon, Baz.” Penny greets them nonchalantly, raising a brow at Baz’s sandy head. She doesn’t need to ask what happened. Micah struggles to hold back from laughing at the situation. He hasn’t seen Baz since third year when he transferred to Watford, and while he doesn’t know exactly how or why he and Simon got together after years of rivalry, he can’t argue that their back and forth as a couple isn’t entertaining.

“Bunce, if you would kindly move aside so I can drown my boyfriend, it would be much appreciated.” Baz says through his teeth, glaring daggers at Simon, who ducks lower behind Penny’s shoulder, still giggling.

Penny shrugs and wades away from Simon, knowing that Baz wouldn’t hurt him for the world. The worst Baz does is splash Simon in the face and curse at him a few more times.

“You are unbelievable, Snow.” Baz grumbles, running his hands through his hair with water to try and get rid of the sand embedded in the dark waves.

“Yeah, but I got you out here.” Simon points out. Baz realizes that he’s waist deep in water, and his annoyance grows.

“And you accuse me of plotting.” He grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. Now that he’s in the water, there’s no point in going back, even if it does let Simon win. At least he still has his shirt on, since his dignity was left on the beach.

Simon floats onto his back and let’s his wings splay our around him, an extra balance. “See, Baz? This is fun!” He says too loudly, water filling his ears.

Out of spite, Baz presses his hand to Simon’s forehead and pushes him underwater. He comes back up sputtering and swearing, but it’s worth letting it happen to see Baz smile for the first time today.

After wiping the water out of his eyes, Simon starts chanting “Chicken fight, chicken fight, chicken fight,” until the others give in.

Micah laughs and kneels in the water to let Penny climb onto his shoulders, and Simon aims his bright smile at Baz until he lets him get on his shoulders.

Simon’s warm, muscular thighs around Baz’s neck make his annoyance at being forced into the water lessen just a little. And he feels a twisted satisfaction when Simon inevitably gets knocked over into the water by Penny (she is relentlessly cunning, even in something as simple as chicken fights).

Eventually, they tire of playing and return to the beach to dry off and eat lunch. Simon devours three sandwiches Penny packed just for him, and he coaxes Baz to eat in front of Penny and Micah.

And Crowley, Baz wants to be pissed at Simon. He wants to exact revenge and put sand in his hair, and make fun of the way seaweed is clinging to his tail. But Simon looks like a sun god, water droplets in his stubby lashes catching the light and skin just glowing in the sun. And he’s smiling and laughing and he’s Simon Snow. Baz just wants to kiss him.

Simon sees Baz looking at him and smiles through the food in his mouth (revolting) and then takes Baz’s hand in his. Simon’s hands are pruney, and gritty sand is pressed between their palms.

Simon doesn’t let go for the rest of the day. They go swimming again, and he holds onto Baz. They have a bonfire on the beach, wrapped in blankets and towels and roasting weiners. Baz uses his magic to start the fire, but his free hand stays in Simon’s.

At some point, Simon bumps his shoulder against Baz’s to get his attention.

“What is it, Snow?” Baz asks softly. The stars are out and the ocean is silvery and soothing. The group is bathed in firelight. Penny is taking about some obscure magical fact with Micah, who hangs off her every word.

“You finally having a fun holiday?” Simon asks, half-smiling at Baz. He earnestly waits for an answer. He’s been desperately trying to get Baz to have fun. Starting swimming races, finding sand dollars and hermit crabs underwater, starting a game of football (which was harder than expected on account of the sand).

Baz is caught off guard, realizing that he stopped being miserable a good while ago. Like always, Snow is a glorious distraction from his own thoughts.

He’s had fun, which he never expected to happen when Simon and Penny said they were all going to the beach. He thought the whole day would be him being miserable under the umbrella, but Snow dragged him out and made him participate and he hasn’t thought about his bitter insecurities since then.

He leans down and presses a short kiss to Simon’s lightly sunburnt cheek, right on a mole there. He pulls back to gaze at the boy he loves, and he can’t help the genuine smile that breaks on his face. Simon grins back, already knowing the answer.

“Yes.”

Useless

Fandom: Thomas Sanders/Sanders Sides

Pairing: Belial/Emile (can be seen as romantic or platonic) 

Characters: Belial, Emile, Virgil, Thomas.

Author’s Note: This fanfic oneshot is based off of the wonderful “Illumination AU” created by @altruistic-skittles. The story itself is my own original idea, but the concept of soulmarks, the characters, and world writhing are her territory. So kindly go read her work as well. Seriously, it’s awesome. Hope you enjoy my story and as always feel free to leave a comment in the messages or reply if you have any notes or constructive critiques. I’m always open to writing advice.

              *    *    *

Belial stifled a yawn as he walked over the the Heart & Soul Cafe. You’d think he’d be used to these 8am Tuesday therapy sessions by now, but it had been a late night performing his tricks and he didn’t sleep so great in general. At least the money he’d made was pretty good. He was really starting to get some popularity for his magic tricks.

No doubt Emile, his therapist and apparent soulmate (another thing he still wasn’t used to), would be chipper as ever. Sometimes he wondered if the man wasn’t actually a cartoon character come to life. Still, Belial supposed he shouldn’t complain. Dr. Emile Picani was good at his job, He could even handle a hopeless case like him. Now Belial had progressed to only sometimes lying compulsively. ‘What a real improvement’ he thought as he walked through the doors of the cafe.

“Oh great,” groaned the familiar voice of his ex from behind the coffee counter.

“Always a pleasure seeing you too Virgil,” he said, venomous sarcasm dripping from his tongue. “Are those new bags under your eyes?”

Virgil responded with a growl and a glare combo. He only eased up when Thomas placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Easy Virge, he’s not worth it,” said Thomas.

Belial smirked and headed to the corner office at the back. ‘Not worth it.’ Of course he wasn’t . Belial was never worth it to anyone. But he hated to admit how much it stung to see Virgil, someone he once loved, relying on someone other than him. Not to mention Virgil now had three soulmates . Three! Well, at least Belial could say he (by some miracle) had a soulmate of his own, platonic or otherwise. The jury was still out (not that he cared). A fact he still couldn’t wrap his head around. Emile was the complete opposite of him. Good and honest in all the ways he wasn’t. And sure, it was clear from their sessions how the doctor would be someone Belial was destined to rely on or need to some degree...on a professional level of course. Yet he couldn’t fathom how he himself would possibly be someone for Emile to lean on when times got hard. What use was he to someone so put together?

He was at the door to the office now, but to his surprise it was already ajar. No knocking needed. What was even more odd is that there was none of the usual ambient music playing. And Belial could’ve sworn he heard a muffled sob from the other side. Before he could think better of it Belial went inside. He was not prepared for the chaos he was. Couch pillows were torn and knocked to the floor, stuffing spewing from the fabric wounds. The tiny waterfall lay cracked on its side. Papers, pencils and pens were scattered everywhere, and even one of Emile’s favorite cartoon posters was torn half hanging off the pastel blue wall. Worst of all though was the sight of the normally Happy Doc (damn, Emile’s humor was rubbing off on him) sitting on the couch, bent over with a hand covering his face as silent sobs shook his shoulders. Even his hair was messy like it had been tugged at and his signature pink tie askew.

Belial’s own facial soulmark ached at the sight. He didn’t know what to do. So he just awkwardly cleared his throat. Emile jerked up, putting his glasses back on. The soulmark around his eyes glowed green, matching the therapist’s emerald eyes perfectly. But they were so sad. That sadness didn’t belong there.

“Oh, Belial. I didn’t here you come in,” he said with a smile. Belial knew a fake smile when he saw one. 

“Yeah, I’m here for my session.”

“Of course! Right...Now’s not a good uh...I’m sorry. Let me just tidy up a bit, then we can...get started.”

Emile started to pick up papers around him and set them on the table. He moved painfully slow, not even getting up from his seat. Belial signed and sat across form the therapist. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Sooo what happened in here?” he asked.

Emile sighed. “I happened. I guess you could say i sort of went Tasmanian Devil on the place.”

Didn’t see that coming. Frankly, Belial didn’t think the man had a rage filled vein in his body. Well, he supposed even therapists were entitled to a bad day once in a while. Of course it had to be on his session day.

“You? If anything you’re usually more of a Tweety Bird.” Shit. Another one. Worst of all, his slip of the tongue reference didn’t even get a chuckle out of the cartoon enthusiast.  Not a good sign.

“Yes, well, i uh...got some bad new this morning and well,” Emile waved at the mess around him.

“Are you okay?” he asked on instinct. Hopefully Emile didn’t catch the tone of sincere concern in his voice.

“Oh i’m alright. Its...” he taked a long breath, “It was a patient of mine. She’d been coming to see me for some time now. Early this morning I got a call from her father that she...passed away a few days ago.”

Oh shit. “I’m...sorry. How...how did it happen?”

“...She happened.”

“Oh...” Really? Oh? That’s the best he could think to say in this situation? It’s not like he couldn’t sympathize. Belial remembered form his time with Virgil how hard someone could struggle with fighting mental demons like that. Hell, there had been times when he’d even entertained the idea. Those were his darker times when he’d felt the most worthless...Things got better after he could afford to move out of his mother’s house. To actually go through with it though, even with a therapist like Emile trying to help you... A hollow laugh bright Belial back from his thoughts.

“And I thought we were really making progress. I-I thought she was getting better. How did I not see? It’s my job to see! I should’ve--” He took off his glasses again as fresh tears fell from his eyes. “I could’ve done more!”

Belial would never admit how much it killed him inside to watch Emile hunch over wracked with sobs, In the past few months of therapy with him, of time spent in and out of the Heart & Soul Cafe, Belial had begun to feel more than he had in a long time. And his didn’t know what to do with it all.

What could he do now? He didn’t have Logan’s tact of Patton’s sensitivity. All he had up his sleeve was-- 

“Wanna see a trick Emile?” he asked, grabbing a blank scrap of paper and a pencil from the floor.

“I really don’t feel in the mood,” said Emile, pausing in his hiccuped cries for a few seconds.

“Trust me, it’s a good one,” he said as he drew a rough picture of a spoon on the paper.

Actually this was one of the more difficult tricks in his arsenal of illusions. He’s only been able to pull it off twice before among numerous tries. But if it worked now, it was sure to amaze Emile and maybe even cheer him up a little. It would be worth it.

“If you must blink, do it now,” The Kubo reference coax a small smile out of Emile. “Watch closely.”

He swiped a hand over the picture, holding the paper by a corner. Then he began to gradually pinch the handle of the spoon picture. Belial watched the grown man’s face change from sorrow to awe as he saw the spoon bend while the paper itself remained smooth. Seriously, he could almost glimpse what Emile looked like as a child.

“wha-what the heck-that’s so cool! How’d you do that?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets.” Yep. the thrill of amazing people with his magic never got old. “And for my grand finale...”

He crumpled the paper in his hands and then held them both up, fingers spread open to reveal that the paper had disappeared. Lastly he reached behind Emile’s ear and pulled out a soft yellow hankerchief. He felt a sense of pride at hearing Emile laugh and clap.

“Now blow,” he said, offering the hankie.”

Emile thanked him as he took the small cloth, giving it a loud elephant like blow. He wiped his eyes with the palms of his hands and put the glasses back on.

“Look, said Belial, “I get why you took the news so hard. I’m sure you did as much as you could for her, but it’s not your fault that she...ran out of strength to keep fighting. You can’t save everyone, and it’s not your responsibility to.”

Emile looked into his eyes with those emerald ones. “Then what use am I?”

Hearing that broken tone in his voice, that kind of question, coming from such a kind, patient, and selfless person like Emile felt like a punch in Belial’s heart. (Well, if he had a heart) He understood better than anyone what it felt like to be worthless...useless.

He was, but Emile definitely was not!

“I could easily lie and say that you’re the best therapist in the world and can save someone the next time. But I wont, because I don’t know that for sure.” He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “But you are the best I know, and from what Ive seen a lot of others think the same. I mean come on, if you haven’t given up on a broken mess like me yet-don’t talk, just listen-then you probably won’t give up on anyone else either. You put your all into what you do and actually give a damn about people. Make them feel like they’re worth something. That gives them a reason to...hope...and that can mean more than anything. So you Emile Picani are not useless.”

Phew that was a lot! Maya wasn’t nearly this much work. He tried to be as honest as possible (not an easy feat).  Was that the right thing to say? No clue. Could he have phrased it all better? Probably. Emile half shrugged in response for crying out loud. .At the very least he wasn’t calling himself useless anymore, but he was still clearly upset.What else could he do? He thought back to how he’d try to comfort Virgil during anxiety attacks. Belial took a deep breath and placed a hand on Emile’s shoulder, giving it a gently squeeze.

Belial did not expect the man to lean forward. He didn’t expect him to bury his teary face into his shoulder. And he definitely didn't expect his chest to skip a beat the way it did. He caught the glow of his own yellow soulmakr reflected in the doctor’s glasses. Belial was terrified of making a wrong move, but he let instinct take over and hesitantly wrapped his arms over Emile’s back. He made soothing stroked as his soulmate got out the last of his silent sobs.

After who knows how many minutes, Emile Stopped shaking and with a shuddered breath he finally sat back up. Belial was sorry or the loss of contact.

“Thanks Belial.” The smile on his face was finally devoid of melancholy.

“Don’t mention it. I’m so glad to have used up my therapy session time this way,” he said. Emile just laughed.

“I am sorry about that. I’ll be sure to make up for the missed time next session.” Emile looked around at the state of his office with a sigh. Seriously. It was a mess. “I really should clean up in here before my next appointment. It’s not till noon, but still. Elliot is rather punctual.”

Typical Emile. Thinking of others even after having an emotional meltdown. It was far too pitiful for Belial to allow.

“Better Idea: You leave the cleaning for later and I take you to get some ice cream now,” he said.

“You really don’t have to,” said Emile.

“Of course I do. Didn’t you know? Ice cream is the cornerstone of any healthy breakfast.” He was unable to hide the smirk that ghosted his face at hearing Emile’s full laughter for the first time all day.

“I’d like that,” Emile said, holding open the door for both of them.

“But it’s only fair that you buy, given that I lost therapy time.”

“Nice try Mr. Banks. I’m the one who needs chim-chim-chima-cheering up. We can go halvsies.”

“Oh fine.” Belial put his hat back on and followed him out.

As they exited the cafe and walked down the block, he caught the low hum of a Disney song (Mary Poppins maybe?) coming from the therapist. Well what do you know? He’d actually been able to be there for his soulmate in some small way. This time, Belial allowed himself to indulge in a genuine smile.

Maybe neither of them was useless after all.

I wonder was he like that at home or if someone taught him it was ok to talk to other women like that. He even talked crap about his sister once on the bus, but I thought she wayyyy prettier than me to get picked on.

But she handled him. She punched him or threatened to punch him if he did it again.

I was shocked at how protective he was of her too but yet would talk about her being fat too.

She wasn't as big as me, just slightly chubby in my opinion. Darius made me feel like I was the biggest girl at school, when there was obviously bigger chicks than me. But I guess I stood out. He thought I was mixed too....but he was Filipino and black.

And I was just....well black....I didn't have curly hair like the actual mixed girls there. I never really knew my natural hair, never got the chance too cause mom always made me get a perm. Cause it looked presentable.

I didn't start taking charge for my own hair until I noticed my hair started to get shorter and shorter and I was actually moisturizing it and wrapping it up at night. It scared me that what no matter what I did, it kept getting trimmed short because I had dead ends and I always wanted my hair to grow down to my behind like Princess Jasmine. She was so pretty to me at the time. Her eyes, her face, and her long black hair was just swishing. Plus she could wear skinny clothes, unlike me.

This was how I used to think back as the sheltered, goody two shoes everyone thought I was, while Darius's only goal seemed to me was to make middle school miserable for me, just because a fat, lightskinned girl liked him, but she wasn't as prettier or talked like all the other black girls in school either.

Him and alot people said I just sounded white. Or "you talk white" as some people put it. I grew up in a catholic school, kindergarten to 2nd grade....of course imma sound like that in a mixed cultured school...we only had one or two girls who were actually full on black and talked hood.

I guess I grew up in the suburbs and stayed to myself alot. I didn't really get to go over to friends houses alot either. Just my cousins and that's it.

I was by myself but I had alot of cartoon characters, dolls and toys that I played with by myself. Even watched movies with my grandma and my dad sometimes if he wasn't too busy. We would play games on the playstation, he bought us a karaoke machine and we had fun.

He tried to teach me how to ride a bike, but I was just too scared of falling and worrying about cars and stuff. He told me just to pedal, and don't worry. But I fell so many times we just kept the training wheels. And I felt safe in my barbie helmet and knee pads.

I started dressing the Bratz dolls and stuff when my first friend that was girl actually stayed in the neighborhood with me and she didn't make me feel like a burden. Our moms and dads even got along with each other, and we just did whatever she wanted us to do..she had the whole Bratz collection, movies, dollhouses, toycars (which I lovedddd), the house was nice and we had sleepovers every Thursday..

.until she moved cause her dad was in the army. It was sad, because she was actually a funny, sweet, nice girl. Her mom drove a black Nissan Infiniti, I remember that distinctly because I never seen that many people with that car and she made sure we didn't touch her car while plating outside.

Jerica. J...I'll keep her last name private. I still remember. The only girl I ever knew in 4th grade (she went to a different school with uniforms) with a Verizon phone where her parents let her watch cartoons on there. She loved Blu and Cheese from House of Imaginary Friends. She seemed sad if I wasn't able to come over on such a short notice.

She did something weird to the Bratz dolls tho....

I noticed she took off their clothes and made me hold one while she popped them together, like humping it, as if she knew what sex was like or just wondered about it. She had her own bathroom too. I think she was used to being by herself, and only let me in because I was nice to her and did what she liked or wanted to. I really wasn't against us being friends, her parents got along with mine, so I was cool.

Her dad even invited them to a family barbecue for her birthday and mom helped me pick out a new Bratz doll for her to have. She liked Yasmin the most. I did too. Sasha was 2nd, cause she was black and Jade, because she had eyes like me. I didn't like how most people praised Chloe more. I didn't think that back then about why they even made Bratz 4 different demographics. It just clicked at my school, that was how it was for me....except there was no real Puerto Rican, Mexican, Filipino, Italian, or Haitian involved in doll making back then.

I just thought all of them looked cute. Mom always bought me Sasha, so I didn't complain. That sounds bad....dang ky, why you had to put Sasha 2nd or 3rd....

I just wanted to be different so I didn't feel weird about buying a doll that's not my color. My parents judged me on that type of stuff. Like especially when I got into kpop or Asian culture. I like learning about different cultures that feel new to me because I've never been there and I never lived it.

But anyway, Jerica ended up writing me a letter to see how was I....I never got the chance to write her back because I had lost the envelope she sent with her address. It's been along time and I doubt she would remember me after moving so many times.

I just remembered I also met another girl named Lyric that had to move to Cuba because of her dad in the military too. She the only other neighborhood girl I rode the 2nd bus home with. But we weren't close.

I don't think she wanted to hang out like that, so I never asked. This was around the time I noticed certain people would talk to me at school, but never did anything or ask to hang out with me outside of school. So I sorta kept us at Associate level (talk in passing, not personal or deep stuff about families)

Same with Darius. He wasn't even a friend to me. He only asked me about test grades and who could get the better score on a math test. Or just talked shit. I never opened up to people I can't trust. We used to talk about our interests or what movie, TV show,, or video game we saw or both liked. Music too. I Bluetoothed him some R&B songs to his phone since he heard me play MaryMary and Robin Thicke. He liked some gospel songs since his mom played them at the house. He just didn't like to dance, cause he would get shy and not know how to move or even basic two step. Me I loved to dance, until I noticed it wasn't ok for a big girl to move like that because she was fat. It hurt hearing that, so I stopped dancing too. Unless I was home alone with my mp3 or what felt like home alone in my room or in my head.

So yea, Darius, he never got to know me. But I think I did from overhearing him talk out loud, and sneaky shit people would say he said about me. I believed it because lets just be frank, he always had something to say about me. But I did not talk to him or confront him about because I didn't want to get in trouble at school for fighting.

So I would just sneak jabs in, kick him at the bus stop cause we weren't at school yet, and either chase him away for talking about my fat. He seemed like he liked me chasing him until he got bored and told me to stop if I went too far.

He only saved my ass once from getting in trouble about the school teacher catching us upstairs in the computer lab without permission, but he lied and told her anyway that the actual computer teacher did give him and us permission to finish the assignment she gave us upstairs. He lied a pretty darn good one off the top of his head, while I was just stressed and said "uhhhhh?" In blank stare mode. I didn't know what to say.

Whenever I get in trouble like that or just freeze, I freeze. My whole body shutdowns and depending on what is said I either cry or walk away, taking my punishment and just leave.

I think Darius probably lied to his parents before, so I thought he was just cool for that. He said I owed him one after that.

I just didn't get it when nobody else was around, he had my back, but everywhere else he was jerk, a fake.

It felt like he had cheated me, at such a young age, who rarely had crushes on boys and focused mainly on just school work, I kept my mouth shut around certain people....especially if I knew they had a big mouth...i didn't tell them anything unless I wanted it to be told to them.

And that's when somebody took the heart I drew of Darius (with muscles cause I always wanted him to look less bony) out of my hands and he showed it to him....cause he knew I didn't want him to see it.

Darius took it, looked at it for a little while as he paced back and forth, came back to where I sat criss crossed applesauced, and crumbled it up. And threw it to my face in front of the whole gym class.

It was embarrassing, but hey, he didn't like me, so he started to get upset if people assumed the reason why he made fun of me so much was because he liked me. That's when he took a break from it, once the rumors died down.

It was a big school and even said to somebody, I overheard him say "oh, she would be cuter if she just lost weight."

What a jerk. I hated him.

Then if he was nice to me, I like him.

It was too complex, my standard of emotions for another guy. Anxious attachment and fear of rejection and abandonment. My worst fear. To be laughed at by a whole group of people you didn't know, but they knew something about you, because of this little punk...I hated him for it.

He asked me what shoe size I was: 11

And everyone else laughed about him cause he was making fun of my big feet. They thought it wasn't normal for girls to have big shoes and big feet. Him and his ignorant ass friends were the type to make fun of a woman for wearing boy shoes and not girly shoes. Like girls should be girls and dress like girls. Boys should be boys who dressed like boys.

The girls there called me tomboy even if I was to wear a big shirt and shorts. Like obviously I'm hiding my boobs and "manly legs" was the most unique comment I ever heard that I hated.

Like yup, I guess I was made fun of for looking too strong and having muscular, big legs compared to the bony ass boys at school. I was never challenged to a fair fight, so I guess she must've been scared to find out.

Chapter 1

It was an average day just like any other. The weather was fair with a gentle breeze, traffic within the city was light, and even gas magically managed to avoid increasing in price. The only thing out of the ordinary was that Richard Cobble was at home instead of working at his office. He even managed to find a pair of faded jeans and a plain, light blue t-shirt to wear instead of his usual pressed suit.

Richard was on a step ladder in his living room trying to set up a security camera. He was having a tough time due to the fact that he had no idea what he was doing and the only instructions he was getting was via the phone from his secretary, Drew Mason. He had the phone smashed between his ear and shoulder, angling his head awkwardly so he wouldn’t drop it.

“Okay, okay. I have it secured to the wall,” Richard explained.

“That’s good, Mr. Cobble. Everything should be ready. Now all you have to do is set up the connection between the camera and your phone.”

Richard gave a grunt as his response and carefully stepped down from the step ladder. Keeping the phone on his shoulder, he quickly folded the ladder and gently set is against the wall to avoid tripping over it later. He used his hand to remove the phone from his shoulder and pressed the “home” button on his touch screen and tapped his surveillance app. The app made a tiny “ping” noise as it opened and the screen loaded with two empty white bars. One labeled “email” and the other “password” and in tiny print below the second bar read “new user.”

Richard explained what was on his phone screen to Drew, “The next step, Mr. Cobble, is to tap the ‘new user’ and create a new account.”

“Simple enough,” he replied and did just that. After putting in his email and desired password, he also added his and his secretary’s number in case of an emergency. “Now it says to ‘set up connection with security device.’ How do I do that?”

“One moment, sir,” came Drew’s quick reply. Richard could hear her fingers typing quickly on her keyboard. After a moment of silence she picked the phone back up. “What you need to do now is switch the connection option on your computer to ‘on’.”

“My computer? Why would I need to do that?”

“Mr. Cobble, the security system you just installed should have come with a disc to set up a program on your computer.”

“Oh, that,” Richard looked around on his desk to find the disk, but was stumped when he didn't find it where he thought he put it. Checking under the desk, Richard heard the soft chime of a bell. Leaning up to look at the direction of the noise, he saw his cat perched on the arm of the couch with the disc in her mouth. “I found it, but there’s a slight problem.”

“What is it?”

“Princess has it.”

“Oh dear,” Drew replied dreadfully. Her boss’s cat was a lovely social Persian, but once she had a hold of something, she became a vicious tiger when someone tried to take it away from her. Retrieving the disc wasn’t going to be easy, especially since she wasn’t declawed.

Richard’s brow began to sweat a little at the nervous prospect of trying to retrieve the disc. Princess didn’t notice her owner’s stare and started to chew on her new toy. Richard slowly stood up and set down the phone with Drew still on the line. Drew could hear the floor creak as her boss slowly approached the feline. As the steps started to fade away she could hear him talk to the cat, “Hiya, Princess! Who’s a good kitty kitty? Daddy is just going to take that disc from you . . .”

Richard’s words began to fade as he continued to walk farther away from the phone. For a few moments Drew couldn’t hear anything at all, but suddenly she heard a loud hiss and an ever louder “SHIT” followed by all sorts of banging. She could have sworn she heard something smash but she was more concerned over the running stomps.

These noises went on for a few minutes and Drew was entertaining the idea of leaving work to assist her boss, but she snapped to attention when she heard heavy footsteps rapidly approach the phone. “Screw it,” he gasped, clearly out of breath. “That monster can keep the damn thing. I’m heading over to Ted’s office.”

“Is everything alright?” Drew asked alarmingly. “Why do you need to go to his office?”

“Ted stole my house key a few days ago and catnapped Princess. I’m going to snoop around in his office and make sure he didn’t make a copy.”

Before Drew could change his mind he hung up. He knew going to Ted’s office was a bad idea, but it’s not like he could send anyone else to do it. They don’t know what the key looked like and he wasn’t going to hand over his only copy for a reference. He sighed as he pocketed his phone, hoping the noise would help motivate him to get started. He opened his front door and made sure to lock it behind him, jiggling the doorknob to double check the safety of his home.

Not feeling like driving, he walked down his driveway and turned right along the sidewalk. He continued in that direction for about a block when he spotted a taxi and quickly signaled it over. It only took a few moments for the cab to pull up next to him. He opened the door and sat inside with a huff and told the driver the address to Stone Industries. The cabbie nodded and pulled away, giving Richard the opportunity to relax and look out the window. Traffic was a little congested so Richard took his time looking at the city and letting his mind wander.

One of the first things he noticed was all the graffiti. A lot of the vandals clearly had talent and the vivid colors added life to the otherwise gray neighborhood. His favorite was an amusing caricature of his favorite childhood cartoon; a crime fighting duck with a purple outfit, complete with a mask. The caricature had the character’s hat just a little too big and the rest of the body looked like a child wearing adult clothes.

Richard remembered how he and Theodore used to watch the show every Saturday together when they were kids. Richard’s mother was an excellent seamstress and made the costumes of their favorite avian hero and his nemesis. Richard would be the hero and Ted would be the villain. For a nice kid, Ted had perfected the “evil villain”. voice and would often scare his own mother with it.

Richard chuckled at the memory and that giddiness soon became sadness. He and Ted were best friends all the way to college, but they had a falling out and haven’t spoken to each other since. Well, until a few days ago that is. Richard hadn’t heard from Ted in eight years and the first thing he does to get his attention was to break into his house and steal his cat.

He noticed that the cabbie was parking and quickly paid the man and included a nice tip. With a happy smile and words of appreciation, the cabbie drove off. Richard turned away from the road and looked behind him to stare at Ted’s building. He whistled his admiration and counted roughly thirty floors. He was here once before when Ted tricked him into visiting, but he never actually took a good look at the building. Richard’s building had 10 floors, but he knew Ted didn’t care about appearances. Ted cared about getting the job done and Richard really liked that about him.

Steeling himself, Richard finally decided that it was time to head inside and walked through the revolving doors. The ground floor was a giant lobby and reminded him of an airport. There were people walking around everywhere. Not a single place seemed devoid of movement. It was very large with a high ceiling and there were luxurious couches and loveseats strategically placed against the walls. The floor looked like white marble and in the center was a large fountain with a small pool to collect thrown change. Instead of having an angel or Greek hero on the fountain it was a howling dog with a stream of water coming out of the mouth. The wallpaper was white with gold trim and there was even a giant chandelier hanging above the fountain. To his right, he noticed a map pinned neatly to the wall. He gladly approached it and noticed that on the 5th floor was an indoor pool. What kind of business was this?

“Can I help you, sir?”

Richard started at the sudden voice and turned to his left to see a smartly dressed young woman with black hair and blue dyed tips. He saw this woman before when he rescued his cat, but didn’t pay her much attention. Now that she was standing right beside him, there was something familiar about her. “Uh,” came his genius reply.

“Do you need help finding anything, sir?”

“No, uh, I was looking over the map to see how large this place really is.”

She gave him a kind smile, “This place is relatively new and the owner, Mr. Stone, is thinking of expanding and starting a chain.”

Richard paused at that and tilted his head slightly, “What kind of business is this place?”

“It’s a grand hotel, sir.”

That made him scrunch his face in confusion, “A grand hotel? Why is it named Stone Industries?”

The woman looked like she was trying her best not to smile at his expression, “The previous owner, Fletcher Stone, used to sell cars here, but when Mr. Stone inherited the business, he changed it into a hotel instead.”

Richard couldn’t believe why Ted would even want to run a hotel. The man hated hard work. “Thank you for the information.”

“Anything else I can help you with, sir?”

“No, thank you.”

With a polite nod, the woman headed toward the front of the lobby and sat behind a huge desk, leaving only her head and shoulders visible. She adjusted her glasses and answered a phone the moment it started to ring.

With a swift glance around the lobby, Richard spotted the elevator and headed inside. It was a large elevator with the top half of the walls covered in mirrors and the bottom half followed the same white and gold theme as the lobby. Richard expected someone to be working the elevator, but no one was present so he went ahead and pressed the button to the top floor.

The elevator shook slightly as it started to climb and Richard was delighted to notice that the elevator music was classical and not that garbage other elevators seem to have. The particular music being played was “Ave Maria” by Bach and Richard thoroughly loved this piece. To increase his mood, the elevator arrived to the top floor just as the music ended. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. The elevator shook once more as it stopped and the doors opened with a light “ding.”

Stepping out of the elevator, Richard was surprised to see how little staff was up here. He saw only three people and a fourth desk that was empty. He wondered briefly who usually sat there, but he decided that he didn’t care and headed toward Ted’s office at the end of the hall. As the walked past the three desk workers, he expected them to try and stop him, but they didn’t even look at him as he walked by.

He knocked gently on the door and when no one answered he poked his head in and scanned the area. Relieved to see it empty, he stepped inside and gently shut the door. He made a beeline to Ted’s desk and started to investigate every drawer he saw. He was able to look through half of them before he heard the door open. Cursing himself for not being more alert, he stood up slowly from behind the desk to see who came in and cursed himself again when he noticed it was a security officer.

“Hello, officer,” Richard managed to greet with a sincere tone.

“I’ve been following you since you came into the building. I need you to get on your knees and put your hands behind your head,” the officer replied as he produced a pair of handcuffs from his belt.

“Do you have any idea who I am? I am Richard Cobble, owner of Cobble Publishing.”

“Sure you are, please make this easy for the both of us and comply. I’d rather not make a scene.”

Richard was flabbergasted that this man had no idea who he was and that’s when he realized that he never changed out of his jeans and t-shirt. Cursing himself a third time, he was about to obey his orders when Ted walked into his office.

“There you are!” Ted greeted cheerfully. He quickly approached Richard with a concerned expression, “I told you to wait for me in the lobby! You could have gotten lost!”

Richard was too stunned to speak. The officer was just as confused, “Do you know this thief, Mr. Stone?”

“Thief! Why this man is my cousin! You’ve been working for me for a few months and I figured you knew how to recognize wealthy men by now.”

The officer had a deadpan look on his face, “Wealthy? This guy?” His gaze darted to Richard, judging his cheap shirt and dirty jeans, then to Ted, who was wearing a business suit.

Ted shook his pointer finger at the officer and “tsked” at him, “Mr. Huff, I asked him to dress casually. We haven’t seen each other in a long time so I wanted to take him out to dinner.” Ted paused for a moment and tilted his head to the side slightly, “Why did you call him a thief?”

“I caught him looking through your desk, sir,” he answered.

Ted looked at Richard and cocked an amused eyebrow, “I forgot my wallet up here and Richard was too impatient to wait for me so I assume he was looking for it. Right, cousin?”

“Uh, right,” Richard affirmed quickly.

The officer paled, “You just called him Richard. You don’t mean Richard Cobble do you? The new businessman that just moved his company here a few weeks ago?”

“The very same,” Ted nodded. Richard just flashed the officer a smug grin.

“I- I’m very sorry, sir!”

“Don’t worry about it,” Richard said cooley.

“Thank you for your vigilance, Mr. Huff, but I can handle it from here.”

The officer nodded once and hurriedly left the room. Ted and Richard were stuck in the office alone and Richard was embarrassed over the whole ordeal. “Sorry about the trouble, Ted.”

“I didn’t make a copy of your house key,” Ted chuckled.

Richard blinked a few times, “How did you know that’s what I was looking for?”

“Oh please!” Ted slapped Richard on the back playfully. “You’re so predictable!”

“I am not!”

“You are too,” Ted laughed. “I bet you’re dressed like that because you were installing security to keep me out of your house.” When Richard didn’t respond Ted laughed harder. “Why didn't you just change the locks? That would have been much easier and it would also make any copy key I might have had useless.”

Richard thought about what Ted said for a moment and slowly ran a hand down his face in irritation at himself. His day would have been much easier if he just did that in the first place. He looked at Ted and saw his smirk. Richard felt his cheeks burn with a small blush of embarrassment and looked away.

“I promise not to catnap Sunshine again, cousin.”

“Her name is Princess,” Richard grumbled. “And don’t call me cousin.”

“Well we have to pretend to be cousins now! Mr. Huff likes to gossip so I’m sure half the building knows we’re cousins.”

“But we’re not cousins!”

“Obviously, but my employees don’t know that. If you deny our blood then my security guard would wonder why I lied to him and that would make him doubt my story about you looking for my wallet.”

Richard sighed in defeat. Ted was right. Denying their false family ties would cause more trouble than it would solve. “So,” Ted began. “How about dinner? Consider it an apology for taking Mashed Potatoe Sunshine.”

Richard cringed at the full use of his cat’s annoying second name, “It sounds worse when you say the whole damn thing. You do realize that you misspelled potato on her collar, right?”

“Oh, did I?” Ted feigned ignorance and battered his eyelashes innocently at his former friend. He looked down and noticed that Richard had a fresh bandage on his hand. Ted pointed at it with a finger, “What happened?”

Richard followed his gaze and realized what Ted was referring to. “Nothing.”

“Did you try to take something from Sunshine?”

“No,” came Richard’s too quick reply and Ted laughed at his expense.

“So . . . Dinner?”

Richard just rolled his eyes. “How about Bananaflies? They have a steak special going on this week.” Ted just beamed Richard a huge smile and was practically glowing with happiness. He opened his office door for Richard to walk through and they both headed out to enjoy their first meal together in years.

Flowers

We were sitting at the edge of the fountain that had been placed on the middle of my--Their--garden, for longer than either my mother or me could remember, but not long enough for our grandmothers not to recall how they saw it being built when they were younger and softer and more carefree. I was thirteen, perhaps a year more, the features of childhood had long since started to abandon me but I was not yet a man, I’m not quite sure if I am now.

Her face was contorted into that of deep thought, but I knew hadn’t got lost amidst her contemplation. She was very aware I was there, for she had called me. Sometimes I entertained the idea that she could hear me breathe, was that something I would be able to do then? When I became one of them?

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to.

And that, I think, was the reason my mother called for my presence.

As silent as she had been the moment I had joined her on the aged marble structure, she stretched out her slender arm to pluck out a flower that grew shyly from between the grass, it was yellow and it glowed with the beauty of spring, I could tell it had only recently bloomed. I quite liked to watch the flowers, sometimes I would read about them too.

“Look at this, Cass”

she told me. As if she didn’t notice that I already had been doing so.

She twirled the little flower with her thin fingers, I realized everything about her was that way. Slender and sharp and unreadable.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

It was not like my mother to admire the pleasingness of little things such as flowers or birds, or even laughter and how it turned one’s cheeks rosy. I wasn’t sure whether my mother had ever laughed like that. I didn’t think she was able to.

“Hold it for me, I want you to feel how soft it is”

She placed the delicate yellow primrose on the palm of my hand with a graceful movement, her demeanour was ever so dignified, even if I was the only one there to take note of it. As a child I would wonder if she ever needed a rest from being so important. I let the flower reston my palm unsure of what to do, my mother’s behavior was most unusual that afternoon, she never seemed to take time from her day to contemplate about nature, she claimed there wasn’t enough time for such things. My great aunt had laughed at her for saying that once, she was sipping on a glass of Miscangui and told her she wasn’t old enough to understand such matters. Mother didn’t much like her.

I knew she wanted to tell me something, but she was never so cryptic.

“Really look at it Cass, don’t pretend I don’t know how curious you can be”

I touch the flower more intently now, and I can feel it’s soft, but I still can’t see how could it deserve my mother’s special attention. I can see red markings that form the shape of a star at its center, momentarily I’m at awe at such small detail and I briefly wonder if someone planned the world.

I shake the thought away, the very idea seemed ludicrous.

“Don’t pretend I don’t know how much you worship these kinds of things”

I turn my head towards her and I pretend not to understand, because I sort of did, but she had the kind of gaze that could force crowds drunk on bickering and chaos into absolute silence. I had seen her do that, and it always made me hold my breath, she didn’t look like she was anyone’s mother when she did such things. I knew she knew I sort-of understood.

“I know about the things your uncle gives you, the toys and the books and the films”

It was no secret that she knew, my uncle would speak of the matter so lightheartedly, he said boys needed to get their way in certain matters before they grew to be to old to, otherwise they’d lose their rocker a little bit. I wondered if that had happened to him, my mother always told me so, but I never stopped liking him because of it. I know that part of her fears I will follow his path.

‘No wife and no children! At his age!’

I heard one of my countless cousins gossip one day he came to visit, I had been playing with a tiny car that looked unlike any car I had ever seen, It had sprouted out of a hollow egg made of chocolate. He had told me human children could never get enough of those when he gave it to me, and he had smiled wider than I had ever seen my mother smile as I tried to put the parts of the toy together. Maybe when they were born he had accidentally taken her share of warmth and kind-heartedness and that’s why she always seemed to have been carefully sculpted out of a block of ice.

‘Heard he doesn’t fancy women, or they don’t fancy him’

There was something about the malice in which they both giggled at the comment that made me think they had insulted him cruelly, though I didn’t quite understand what they meant. I glared at them, and the one who had spoken first threw me a dry look before walking out of the room signaling his friend to follow.

I loved him, I still do.

My thoughts trailed back onto the flower, I was still trying to decode the message she was trying to make me understand, I already knew she didn't like my books, my toys and my films.

“I know how much you like them, the humans, and I thought they are quite like this flower”

‘Easy to kill?’ I think ‘she only had to stretch out her arm, and I know what they need to live. I know what Miscangui is made of’  

“They are pretty, I’ll give you that. They are graceful, and they can learn to mask how frail they are in beauty, and they are so many too. Look at the garden”

I look up and watch the large expanse of grass, it’s covered in neatly organised patches of flowers. Buttercups, Daffodils, Daises, Daylilies and many more I could not name dressed the garden organizedly. They were never as lovely as they were now.

“I know how the idea of them tempts you, it clouds your judgement Cass, you know what makes you love them so much?”

There is a lot I could say to answer that question, my uncle tells me more than she can hear, she can take my books and toys and films away when I’m away, but there’s nothing she can do about the stories, she can’t confiscate a memory. As far as I know. I love how alive they seem to be, how they change constantly, how everything is so different everywhere and all the time. My uncle shows me music sometimes, and i feel as though he hands over to me a snippet of another world, another planet. I’m not sure he is allowed to, but who can touch him if the Prime Minister’s son loves him, and she must love him too, otherwise I wouldn’t see him. I don’t think.

Above all however, I’m enthralled at how free they seem to be. At how they can do whatever they want, and say whatever they want, even if it makes no sense at all. My uncle had told me he knew about humans who lived in houses that moved, humans who swam with sharks and jumped high on two wheeled machines as if they could grab the moon and hang by its edges like a cartoon character.

‘There’s a line between freedom and debauchery’

My mother said when she overheard us, her tone had been threateningly stern, and my uncle didn’t tell any more stories that day. I wonder if he loves me more than my mother loves me.

I could tell her all those things, but I don’t, part of her tone suggests she doesn’t really want an answer.

“It’s because you’re weak that you love them, you’re weak and they are weaker, so you find comfort in that”

As much as i would have liked to deny it, as much as I would have loved for it to be a lie, I knew that it had its share of truth. I was weak, yes, and I lived in terror of what i would become when all traces of childhood and adolescence abandoned me, I was terrified because I knew I would never be free. Not one of us could be. And I loved them so much because liberty flowed through their veins and shone in their eyes and exposed itself with every one of their movements and art and poems and fluctuations like it wasn’t a rare unattainable gift but nature’s divine intention.

I had only ever seen meer traces of such freedom in my uncle, but they always seemed so sad. Like they weren’t meant for this life, this cities. Like he couldn’t help their existence, and resented himself for it. I always found it hard to tell whether the glossiness of his eyes was due to joy or tears. Perhaps I am too observant for my own good.

“The garden now looks pretty, but what will it become when spring turns to autumn, or winter?”

Hardly any flowers grew in the garden when the warm seasons left. On one of my aimless walks I heard a few men say in between drinks that it was because Desdemona had died when it was cold. I heard my mother speak of her too. You had no need for religiosity to respect her.

“They die, Cassiel, they die and they wither and rot and lose all their charm and youth and spark”

I know they thought they were better because they’d never have leathery skin, because they would never get sick. Because they would always be young, they would always live in the little cities they rose from blood and theft and rape. The little cities they were so proud of. I would be like that too, however little I wanted too, every clueless baby and wandering toddler that clung onto their mothers and feared the dark and giggled joyfully with a cheer not meant to exist too long would end up like that.  

“You have no place with them Cass, you can roll in the dirt however much you like, but that will never make you a flower. It will make you weak, and scared and pitiful”      

She held silence for a few seconds before adding

“and dirty”

I knew I had no place with them, I understood why we weren’t allowed to go, in the way I understood why I wasn’t supposed to wander off too far away from my house, or go to the underground pubs. I did it anyway.

We sat together in silence for a while longer. I hadn’t spoken at all throughout her lesson, or lecture, whatever that had been, but she knew I had listened to every single thing she had said. She was used to speaking with no interruptions, I know she quite likes it, it makes her feel like she is right.

I don’t know if she isn’t.

She lifts her arm again to tuck a loose curl behind my ear, as to show me she still loves me, even if she thinks I’m pitiful, cowardly and dirty. I have her eyes and the dark color of her hair, but mine is curled and wild like my father’s, a nightmare every time she tried to make me look tidy, her’s is long, straight and sleek.

She strokes my hair once, slowly and carefully. ‘she really does pity me’ I think, but I don’t say anything at all. I simply look at her, waiting for her to say something, or to stand up and leave.

She does both.

She rises to her feet, places a kiss on my forehead and says.

“You can’t keep up thinking like a child, Cass, you’re almost a man. Soon people won’t be patient with you anymore”

She looks at me, I look at her, for once she is expecting me to answer but I can’t muster anything to say that would satisfy her.

Finally, with a sigh that’s barely audible, she disappears into the house. She has more sons to tend to, sons more competent and less thick.

I toss the primrose into the fountain and watch how it floats, for it’s not heavy enough to sink.

I know he's not the best, I don't expect him to be too scary or spook. He is just for fun. Also Trigger warning because this might disturb/ trigger some people Tw: Rape, Pedophilia, Necrophilia, Death Basic: Name: Jean Nelson Cp name: None Nicknames: Bat boy because his nose kinda looks like a bats because of how it points upwards, Teddy due to him living in the Teddy Bear Motel, Trix because he's just for kids. All names are given to himself by himself because he has a lot of free time Age: 17, dies at almost 18 Birthday: May 23, 1973 Deathday: April 7, 1990 Race: White(and he is also Albino) Sex: Male Sexuality: Straight Religion: Christian and loves Jesus, although he doesn't fully understand the religion and assumes he will still go to heaven, because he thinks that he can sin as much as he want because Jesus died for it, but thats really not the case at all. Residents: The Teddy Bear Motel c5.staticflickr.com/9/8316/292… abandonedkansai.files.wordpres… Located in Whittier North Carolina Hotel Info: The hotel was abandoned, and he decided to stay there because it was much warmer then his cabin in the woods because of instillation. Mental disorders:Narcissistic personality disorder, Intermediate explosive disorder Accent: Southern but he slurs his words, and ends  up drooling a lot when talking. Prized Possession: A Taxadermied 16 y/o girl that he did by himself, She's kinda rotten. WIP character. --- Appearance: He doesn't look too spooky, but his actions kinda spook me Hair: Light ash blonde (whatever the fuck, just blonde basically) Medium length, although normally kept up. Its burnt of in many places on the face. Eyes: Cat like shaped eyes. They're green or blue, not sure yet Body Type: kinda muscular, pretty short. He has chubby arms<3 Height: 5"4 Weight: 139 lbs. Extra: he has lots and lots of burns.I cant really draw burns, they look a bit too fresh, I know. Due to the burns it kind of hurts him to open one side of his mouth, so when he talk and breathes and stuff one side droops and the oceanfox89.deviantart.com/art/… other side goes up making in look like he's smirking. The other side  of his mouth can and does open though. Outfits: Too many. Like way lots. The jeans aren't really rolled up that high, it's stylized. main outfit: oceanfox89.deviantart.com/art/… Nose: He doesn't have any nose skin so he cant keep his snot in his nose and is constantly getting boogers and stuff everywhere. He can't breathe well out of his nose because of that and it gets in his mouth a lot because he breathes out of it. He smears it around his face, its gross. Boots: cowboy boots that are brown and black, with no spurs. Legs: (Thicc) They're kind of chubby, but it's really just odd weight distribution. He eats a lot of dog, so he's not starving. --- Killing: Jean doesn't go out of his way to get a kill, but when he does kill it is for sexual purposes, to get off basically. However, since what he is into is so odd, it doesn't feel like the victim is being sexually violated, which he thinks is wrong.  How he kills in he normally bashed their head in with his hockey stick, or slice them with it. He will occasionally hang them, or make small cuts in them and let the victim bleed out. --- Fetishes: One reason that Jean kills is to get a good wank. His sex thing was badly burnt when they were attacked and overtime he developed strange fetishes that he does to his victims.  Trigger Warning, but important info   Erotophonophilia: Sexual pleasure in murder Necrophilia Pedophilia Piquerism: Pleasure in piercing or cutting the flesh Sadism Zoophilia: Animal fetish Zoosadism: Inflicting pain in animals, or seeing animals in pain. --- Personality: He's a dick. He wont talk to or go after anyone over 20. He  pretends to be sweet and happy and pretends to not have much of a personality and be 2 dimensional like a cartoon character to trick kids into thinking he is fun loving and happy. He's really just a sad, perverted sex freak, who love targeting the weak, young and venerable. He occasionally will belittle his victims before he kills them once he's caught him in his shed or in the motel, and just yell at them because he is angry for no reason. He really does regret it, and it doesn't feel as great as it did. Misogynistic type( Hates women) Why have sex if it's no love?He's secretly extremely sad with what he's done with his life. Before it even started really. He's only 17. He could have made a family of his own. He knows he blew his only change at a family and love, he messed it up the second he got it. Nobody told him it was wrong, what he did to his sister. And if you can't fix what's broken, break it more, right? Likes: Children(in that way), getting off to dead people (in holes he cuts in them, not birth canals), Sugar Rice Krinkles, Jesus, eating flowers, staplers, NICKELODEON, the cold, wet pleasure of penetrating corpses, acting, being romantic, however his version of romantic is sick and twisted, exhibitionism, Killing hikers and fucking their dogs Dislikes: Hippies, because they annoy the fuck out of him, Victims who scream or bark too  loud and hurt his ears, most people besides himself, loud noises, "kinkshaming", men Beliefs: He believes that killing children and bashing in the stomachs or pregnant women is fine to save the children from living miserable lives. He thinks its immoral to have real sex with women, because he never has, but holes he cuts into them is fair game. Strength: He is fast, in the short periods of time he can run, from practice he can swing his hockey stick well, he can climb, and get into small places easily, can fallow things well with his eye and rarely loses sight of victims. Because they're dumb children and loud animals. Weaknesses: He's human, he has human weaknesses, he has poor eyesight because he is albino, and his hair is also easily grabbed and pulled. He also has problems with running for a long time because his nose is normally clogged and he cant breathe. Also, because he is normally breathing from his mouth, he has a hard time sneaking up on people. He is much weaker then most men. He doesn't have any depth perception because his eye was burnt over. theme song: Yonkers Instrumental by Tyler the Creator and Goosebumps Instrumental by Travis Scott www.youtube.com/watch?v=x0ZQyr…; or www.youtube.com/watch?v=bQBw1f… (just for fun) but highkey inspired by Tron Cat by Tyler the Creator. www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kd3hxZ… --- Phobias: Androphobia: Fear of adult men, due to most of them being stronger then him Pyrophobia: Fear of fire Mastigophobia: Fear of whips --- Extras: Since the motel doesn't have electricity, when he kills an animal, he eats it. Probably died from tetanus or being shot, i'm not sure yet, possibly froze to death still my innocent little floof bby He's not gay btw He's all badass until someone attacks back, then he's a little bitch ---  TRIGGER WARNING  (just in case) This includes background Story: written by siner666.deviantart.com/art/Je… --- Short background:    Jean was born and left at the hospital. However he was adopted by a "nice" couple that took care of him until he was around 7. However the the father cheated on the mom and the mom became angry at Jean and his siblings at the time. The people he had always known as his real family. He was taken away by cps and placed into foster care while his mother was evaluated. He was placed in a few more terrible homes until he finally go to Edmunds. They were a nice Mexican family. He had a little sister names Sarah in that family. He became very addicted to TV and his family got him whatever he wanted to deal with his trauma.They gave him whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, so it made him very self absorbed. But he wasn't satisfied. Jean eventually fell in love, but he knew that her family would stop them from being together. So he kidnapped her in the night and ran away with her. taking the things they bonded over with them, so that just maybe she would forgive him. He was immediately found out and the town basically went out in a mob to go find him. When he he was found he was attacked, rather violently, because the townspeople much rather did things own their own and not with legal help, so they decided to chase them down and catch them by themselves. It was like an old fashioned mob. One mad decided too pick up a lantern but dropped it and it burnt the two children. He assumed he killed them The girl died but Jean didn't. When their parents found out they were devastated, they never knew he survived.    Jean was absolutely devastated, the only person he could ever truly love was dead. He ran to a hotel, that had been very important to him as a child. Only to learn that it had been abandoned, which was a pleasant surprise to him. He and his sisters dead corpse stayed at the motel for the longest time until she started rotting, so Jean started looking for a new body.    He found a cabin in the woods and camped there and killed any children that happened to wander in. And animals, and eventually pregnant women.    One day he was strolling around in his little forest, and found some campers. A single dad, a daughter who was 11 and a son who was 13, and their dog. He snuck into their tent while the dad went away to get their truck.Jean underestimates how strong the son is. Jean assumes he can go in, kill the brother, and steal the sister and dog. He intended to kill him with a hammer he found in his motel. HE walks in and accident steps on the brother. The brother was SHOOK and immediately started beating Jean over the head with the closest object, a flashlight. He does it to the point when his head is cracked and bleeding out. the brother told him to scram, which he did, only to come around the other side and snatch up the dog and sister. Jean even this dazed and confused state still managed to run with them and climb to the roof of the motel. He held the dog over the roof to taunt the brother. The father came then. Seeing one of his beloved children in danger he climbed up to the roof with Jean. He grabbed Jean by the hair and dragged him down from the roof down the fire escape. He took the hammer Jean had, and grabbed wads of his blood clotted hair and nailed it to a wall. Jean passed out. When he woke up the father forcefully ripped him  form the wall, scalping him and exposing the hole in the skull the his son made. The father shoves his foot in the crack and spread it more. Jean was basically having full blown seizures at this point. The dad gets the scalp and then he tied it around his neck and hung him. And finally tore the better part of his face off and left him there to die, even though he probably already died before. The thirty two year old man, Walter Hugo, was later charged with the multiple murders, and minor rape. Walter was sent to death row and Jean was obviously dead.