This is my 100 theme thread. What's the WTF RP? It's the file name for a random RP that I started with one friend over a year ago, and managed to get up to over 1000 pages in notepad with. It has no name, actually. XD

001. Beginnings. (Benjamin/Janet)
002. Middles. (Benjamin/Janet)
003. Ends. (Benjamin/Janet)
004. Insides. (Domovoi)
005. Outsides. (Puck)
006. Hours. (Timothy)
007. Days. (Domovoi)
008. Weeks. (Puck)
009. Months. (Medea)
010. Years. (Jonas)
011. Red. (Jonas)
012. Orange. (Tyche)
013. Yellow. (Mark)
014. Green. (Jonas)
015. Blue. (Various)
016. Purple. (Puck-Tyche)
017. Brown. (Jonas)
018. Black. (Rose)
019. White. (Medea-Janet)
020. Colourless. (Tyche)
021. Friends.
022. Enemies.
023. Lovers.
024. Family.
025. Strangers.
026. Teammates.
027. Parents.
028. Children.
029. Birth.
030. Death.
031. Sunrise.
032. Sunset.
033. Too Much.
034. Not Enough.
035. Sixth Sense.
036. Smell.
037. Sound.
038. Touch.
039. Taste.
040. Sight.
041. Shapes.
042. Triangle.
043. Square.
044. Circle.
045. Moon.
046. Star.
047. Heart.
048. Diamond.
049. Club.
050. Spade.
051. Water.
052. Fire.
053. Earth.
054. Air.
055. Spirit.
056. Breakfast.
057. Lunch.
058. Dinner.
059. Food.
060. Drink.
061. Winter.
062. Spring.
063. Summer.
064. Fall.
065. Passing.
066. Rain.
067. Snow.
068. Lightening.
069. Thunder.
070. Storm.
071. Broken.
072. Fixed.
073. Light.
074. Dark.
075. Shade.
076. Who?
077. What?
078. Where?
079. When?
080. Why?
081. How?
082. If.
083. And.
084. He.
085. She.
086. Choices.
087. Life.
088. School.
089. Work.
090. Home.
091. Birthday.
092. Christmas.
093. Thanksgiving.
094. Independence.
095. New Year.
096. Regret.
097. Fear.
098. Destruction.
099. Imagination.
100. Perception

001. Beginnings. (Janet/Benjamin)

He had the most beautiful eyes that Janet had ever seen.

"This is my little brother, Benjamin." Donald introduced. Janet smiled to him, giving a cute little curtsy. Benjamin just blushed, eyes on the ground and murmuring something in German before leaving the room.

"He's mother's youngest. Born a little after they left Germany." Donald said, pulling out a chair for her. "Doesn't speak a word of English. Stays home with Mother all the time."

Every time that Janet would come home with Donald after school, Benjamin would watch her. He was a tall lad, two years her junior, well muscled from farm life. He was shy. Painfully, adorably shy.

One day, she walked in the house when he was leaving. His eyes met hers for just a moment.

"H'lo, Janet." His voice was soft, spoken with an odd Southern and German accent. And was he ever adorable when he blushed.

"Hello, Benjamin." Janet smiled. The boy was at a loss after that, however. Clearly he didn't know much english. But it was cute, that he'd learned to say Hello.

When she was there visiting a few months later, her brother came running up, tears in his eyes.

Their mother was dead.

Janet found the following time to be very hard. She was the only daughter, and was now expected to fill her mother's place, as well as keep up with her school work.

She was sitting alone one day after school, tears in her eyes, when there was a knock at the door. Benjamin stood there with a basket of food in one hand. Smiling shyly, he offered it to her. No words or explanations. Once he had given it to her he just walked away.

Whenever she got free time, Janet would go to the James' farm. Mama James would talk to her and love her as best as she could. And Benjamin would listen. His eyes said they understood her, even if he couldn't quite speak what she said.

"I don't know how I can do it, Benjy." She told him tearfully. "I can't keep up with the cooking and everything. I'm not my mother!"

"Shh." Benjamin patted her arm. "I help, okay? Come after you end school, yes? I help." He smiled at her. And, come the next day, Benjamin started meeting her on the way home from school. She would clean, and he would help with cooking. His english slowly got better as the months past.

He found her crying one day. She tearfully explained that her father expected her to marry once she was out of school. Benjamin watched her, his eyes full of worry.

"Jannie. Two years. You wait for me?" He asked, head to one side. "If will, I speak with father. Make... Agreement?"

"What...?" She asked, brows furrowed. Benjamin smiled, squeezing her hand.

"Jannie, I learning English. Not for language. For you. I see you... I wish speak with you. If you will wait, I will marry you. Would be better than man who mean, yes?" Benjamin had such an innocent, adorable look on his face. He was a good man. She could do much worse.

"... Yes, Benjy. I'll wait two years, if Father will agree." She said. Benjy squeezed her arm again and stood.

"I speak with him." He promised, standing.

That night, her father came in with a bloody nose, and told her that it had been arraigned. Benjy was smiling angellecly, even with a busted lip and a black eye.

Two years she waited, and on Benjy's 18th birthday they were wed. His english had improved greatly, and they danced together all night. Her head resting over his heart, Janet knew she'd made the right choice.

002. Middles. (Benjamin/Janet)

Benjamin held his wife's hand as they rushed into the hospital, Janet resting her free hand on her rather large stomach.

"My water broke." She said rather abruptly to the politely smiling desk woman. People were called up quick and Janet was pushed into the delivery room, Benjy at her side.

Oh, her mother would've laughed and told her she had an easy delivery. But she didn't care. She was in pain, sobbing and clinging to her man with everything in her.

This was terrible! Why did women reproduce? She'd thought that she would enjoy a child, but this pain... It would surely taint how she felt for the baby!

And then... After one last push, it was done! The doctor smiled up at the couple. "It's a girl." The cord was cut, and what was obviously the most beautiful baby ever born was put on Janet's stomach. Tears in her eyes, she stroked one tiny cheek.

"Look at her, Benjy..." Janet whispered, her eyes large. "So little..."

Benjamin kissed her cheek, almost crying but not quite. "She's perfect." He said, already quite the proud poppa.

The conversation continued in Jane's room later, the tiny bundle of joy resting in her Daddy's arms. "What'll... What'll we name her?" He asked, voice soft and tender to avoid startling the babe.

"Don't know, Benjy." Janet stroked her cheek again, smiling.

"How about... Jane, for your mother." Benjamin smiled, and tears rose in Janet's eyes. "And Marie for mine. Jane Marie James."

"Good name." Janet kissed Jane's forehead, looking at her with such love. "Our first of many."

003. Ends (Benjamin/Janet)

Benjamin paced outside the emergency room, hands behind his back and looking no less than terrified. His Janet, his beautiful pearl, had started bleeding badly after the birth of their second child. He'd been shoved out of the room.

No one would tell him what was going on. They assured him that his son was fine. He didn't care about his son. He didn't know him yet. He wanted to know how his wife was!

It was hours before they'd tell him. A doctor pulled him into a room to explain. "Your wife is alive." Benjamin nearly wept. "But... She's damaged internally. We had to... Remove some of her reproductive organs. She won't be able to carry any more children-"

"I don't give a damn about children!" Benjamin said, standing. "Will she live?! Will this affect her life in any other way?!"

"No, no. She'll live and be healthy-"

"I want to see her. Now."

So he was let into the tiny, white room where his beloved Janet lay. His hands wrapped around hers and he squeezed lightly. She looked so pale, so frail. Not the usual pistol she was.

She woke up gradually, pushing past the seditaves and painkillers. "Benjy...?" She sounded so confused. "The... Baby?"

"S'a boy." He said softly, stroking her hair. "Fine, just fine."

"What's wrong with me...?" She blinked and swallowed several times. Benjamin got up and poured her a glass of water, holding it to her lips and letting her drink.

"Something in you broke, honey. Baby was too big, you were too small. You're fine." He told her, resting his head against her arm. "I thought I'd lost you."

"...If... If something... Broke...?" She asked, voice tiny.

"Yeah. No more children."

Janet cried. "I'm so sorry, Benjy..." She wept. She knew the man wanted more...

"Don't you dare, Jannie." He whispered, kissing the tears. "I love you. You're my other half. Just wasn't meant to be, having lots of kids."

She smiled wobbily, nuzzling against his hand. "Maybe... Maybe we'll have a lot of Grandchildren..."

Benjamin chuckled. "Maybe. But don't get your hopes up."

004. Insides (Domovoi)

His Uncle John had told him once: "There's something wrong with you, boy. But it can't be fixed. You can't fix what's wrong on the inside."

As he grew up, he had to admit. John was right. There was something wrong with him inside. Now, Dom had never had trouble getting a girlfriend. Not once. He was gorgeous, they said. They were all too willing to come into his life and his bed.

However, after he turned twenty, he began to notice a... Problem. A problem that ended up getting fixed by little blue pills.

But the problem wasn't the worst bit. No matter how hard he tried, Domovoi just couldn't feel anything for the girls. Nothing at all, expecially after the physical lust was gone. His relationships would last a week, at most.

And yet, when he talked to Dylan, a boy that had been the target of a recent hate crime, he felt... Something. An overwhelming urge to protect him. To keep him safe. Domovoi hadn't had this feeling towards any of the girls.

Dylan was... A good man. An unlucky one, with a bad history, but a good man. Domovoi was fond of him

A little too fond, it turned out, as his dreams took a turn he didn't particularly want. Especially not with a naked Dylan at the forefront.

He couldn't be. He couldn't take it. Even if Meddy had been telling him for years to give it up and date men, he couldn't be gay.

He asked Dylan out. Nothing serious, because of the fact that he was still working on Dylan's investigation. One night, couple weeks later, Domovoi was startled out of bed by a banging on the door. He stumbled there, naked, and found a upset Dylan. His cat was gone.

Dylan came in, there was a bit of kissing, and Domovoi reacted without the use of the little blue pills. And that's what sealed it for him.

After Dylan left the next day, Dom sat down on his couch and cried. He didn't know how he'd be able to tell his mother. His 'problem' really was on the inside.

005. Outsides (Puck)

There wasn't anyone in the crowd that could pick out the pint sized cross-dresser. A small frame, dressed in clothes that were too big, with a hat pulled down over hard brown eyes. A face that was hard, with a scowl frozen into place.

Subterfuge was a matter of survival for Puck James. Her mother never kept good company, and one of her 'boyfriends' had raped Puck's older sister years back. She'd never felt safe after that, seeing how much it broke her sister.

So, she'd started nicking her brother's clothes. Learned how they walked. Copied how they talked. Pulled up her long hair and hid it under a hat. Joined rough sports. Did everything she could to look like a boy.

It worked well. In school, new kids couldn't tell she was a girl, expecially after she hit a growth spurt and passed Domovoi's height of six foot (Though, only by an inch). She strapped down her chest, wore more layers, and did her best to lay low. It was how she coped.

Even after she moved to a new home, a safe home, she couldn't drop the act. She'd gotten too used to looking like this, being like this. Her outsides matched her insides: rough and strong.

But then Nicky came. And he made her feel safe.

The hat was first to go, and Puck finally let her long, curly, gorgeous black hair be free. Little changes followed, gradually showing off more of a body that was, undoubtedly, feminine. Belonged more to Nick, as he cared for her breasts more than she did, but still.

However, people soon learned that just because her looks had changed didn't mean her personality had. When a girl gave her some sass about a sweater she was wearing (which included a rather interesting term that rhymed with 'more') Puck broke her nose and shoved her in a locker.

Even looking like a sweet little Hispanic girl, Puck could still kick some serious ass.

006. Hours (Timothy)

It started with a single punch. Tim jumped in to take it, since it had been aimed for his mother. Dad was a strong man, and the punch knocked him back into the wall. Tim's eyes slid up to look at the clock on the wall.

8:56

Another fist followed the first, and Tim sprawled on the ground. Aaron kicked him in the stomach, sending him rolling.

"Aaron, stop it!" Rose screamed, pulling at his arm, trying to get him away from her baby.

"SHUT UP!" He screamed, throwing her back into the couch, going back to Tim. The boy was struggling with getting to his feet, so Aaron gave him another kick to the stomach. Tim slid into the kitchen, Aaron grabbed a hair and slammed down for him. Tim managed to move, however, rolling mostly out of the way. The chair splintered on the ground. Aaron just grabbed another.

This one did connect, and Tim muffled a scream. Aaron laughed at him, dragging him up for a punch to the face. Such a weak boy.

The beating continued, it went all around the house. Aaron tore down things from the wall to beat his son, or his wife when she tried to stop him. Finally, Tim didn't move anymore. Aaron grabbed him, threw open the door to the basement, and threw his son down the steps. His arm caught in the railing on the way down and there was a large crack. Aaron just shut the door and locked it, and went to deal with his disobedient wife.

Curled into a bleeding, bruised ball on the floor, Tim reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. His eyes were nearly swolen shut, but he could make out the time.

10:02

He called Dave, the first number on his speed Dial, and Dave was then on his way. But it hurt so bad. Tim couldn't keep his eyes open. He told Dave that having him as a friend had meant so much to him. And then he didn't remember anymore.

007. Days (Domovoi)

Twenty four hours. 1440 minutes. 86400 seconds. Such a short period of time.

Domovoi sat in the hospital waiting room, his elbows resting on his knees, sobbing. He knew the doctors thought him to be mad.

His baby was in a coma. He'd been in a coma four days.

Doctors had talked to him about organ donation. They didn't understand. Dylan was a tough man. Toughest he knew. He'd pull out of this.

But it'd been four days, and visiting hours weren't here yet. All he could do was sit in the waiting room, ignoring sleep, until the time came about.

008. Weeks (Puck)

She never thought she'd be the kind of girl who'd end up sitting at her desk, writing a letter. Nick was overseas. So, every week, she'd sit down and write him a letter that would tell him about things at home.

Tuesdays were Nicky days. She'd rush home week after week and wait in front of the house until the mailman delivered the letters. She'd go inside right away and write, so Nick would get them as soon as possible.

It was a waiting game that nearly drove her insane. A letter a week wasn't enough. She needed more. Wanted to talk to him. Wanted to hold him tight, breathe in his scent.

But she couldn't do that. Week after week she sat at her little desk and wrote in her wobbly handwriting. It was a labor of love. She wouldn't write to anyone else but Nicky, ever. She'd never let any man claim her like he had.

Weeks went by. And then the letters stopped coming. Every day for weeks Puck would wait for a response.

And when she finally got the response, she wished she hadn't.

009. Months (Medea)

Nine months. Three fourths of a year. In the grand scheme of things it wasn't that long. But it was the amount of time that it took Medea to go from 'Single woman' to 'wedded mother'.

It'd started out quick. They hadn't even gotten off the honeymoon when she started throwing up after eating food. Well, there you go. Two weeks married, and she was two weeks pregnant.

It was hard to deal with, at first. But she had a wonderful man at her side who was tickled pink to be expecting a child. David was such a good man.

So, the first month went past, and the second. Meddy finally started showing around the third month. No matter how much weight she would gain, however, David wouldn't be affected. She wasn't fat. She was carrying their child.

So she grew, as did their child, and they were finally able to get their first glimpse of the baby in an ultrasound. No gender known, that was their choice. But the baby was strong and healthy, of a good weight. A perfect, beautiful baby growing inside her.

She'd wake up some nights, Dave's head on her stomach. He told her once that she'd given him everything he'd ever wanted. He'd never expected to be married, nor have a child. She'd given him that. Such a wonderful man.

Her body grew, and the time was at hand. She could feel the little person inside her moving, kicking, living. It was amazing.

Nine months to create a human being. To discover a new identity.

010. Years (Jonas)

Sammy would've been eighteen today.

Well, suppose that's the wrong way to say it. Sammy's still alive. Just... I haven't seen him since he was nine.

It's nights like this I want me a drink. A good hard one. Drink till I can't feel this pain no more. Because it hurts to think my boy's out there, and I ain't able to see him.

It's nights like this that I curse May for taking Sammy and Alex away. She had no right to do that. Not my kids. I might've done some bad things, but she had no right to take away my kids!

Of course, I'd calm down when I thought about that and realize, you know, it's my own goddamn fault. If I hadn't slept around, May wouldn't have left. If I'dve been better, she wouldn't have taken my kids away.

I don't drink. Never do. Haven't since I saw what it did to my Daddy. What it made him into. Decided that wasn't how I was supposed to live. So I joined the army, got fit, got strong, and came back and married May. Two beautiful children were born, and I was happy.

Me and May, we were always too alike. We handled our fights the same way, throwing shit. I never, ever raised my hand to her. A toaster, yes. But never my hand. Never hit her, either, which is more than I can say for the blender that caught my shoulder.

When she found out I was leaving her for Mia, she took a steak knife to my arm. Can't say I didn't deserve it. I can say it hurt and I squirted blood everywhere.

Next morning, she and the kids were gone. I haven't seen them since.

Hindsight takes years, sometimes. Mia left me, the bitchy gold digger. Just left me and the kids to go fuck with some new man.

I think I knew how May felt, a little. But May still loved me when she left, when I broke her heart. I knew Mia was a dirty whore years before she left, when our daughter came out with blonde hair. Both of us have black hair. Didn't look a thing like any of us. But Kelly did bear a resemblance to the man she ran off with.

Doesn't mater. Kelly's my baby. Always will be. Stacey's my princess. And even if I haven't seen Alex or Sammy, they're still my Angel and my boy. Always will be, no matter how much time goes by.

011. Red (Jonas)

Eyes swimming, Jonas leaned over and took several deep breaths.

Red. Everywhere. All over the bushes, the trees... Over Jimmy and Tom, and, god, Jimmy had still been moving but his guts were everywhere and-!

"Yo, Tano!" A loud voice, brassy, cut into his thoughts. Jonas looked up, undoubtedly looking to be in shock. But this wasn't a time where some shell-shocked rookie could stand around stunned. They were on enemy soil. The man grabbed him hard by the shoulder.

"It.. It should've been me, I was out of ranks, they should't have been there, I should've...!"

And that little rant got Jonas a punch to the chest. "Don't you puss out on me now." Johnson growled. "This is war. People. Die. Now, you stand up straight, solider, and you get on with it!"

"...Yessir."

Red. War was full of it. From the men who were shot down in front of him, the men that he shot down himself. After a while, he got used to it. People died. A lot. But he couldn't stop making friends with them. Johnson stepped on a mine, got blown up ten paces ahead of Jonas.

It could've been him at any time. Probably should've been. But Jonas had a good angel watching out for him, apparently. He got shot, yes. Uniform had quite a few patches. He got quite a bit of lead stuck in him. But he never got badly hurt. After Vietnam was over he went to Germany, finished his tour there. Went home, got married.

He never had nightmares of Nam. He would, however, have old nightmares, of dirt and limbs, but now they were all tinted with blood.

012. Orange (Tyche)

Tyche enjoyed the color orange. Perhaps not as much as red, but orange was good as well.

Orange was a good, solid color. It meant sun and surf, places that were warm. Beaches. Palm trees. Places where citrus could grow free, unhindered by the fear of frost. It was healthy and free.

Tyche was, perhaps, not one for the sun, nor the surf. His skin was pale and no doubt prone to burning. The boy didn't go into the sun much himself. His glasses, so thick to allow him to see, would undoubtedly reflect the light painfully. Though he was tall, Tyche could not play volleyball. He also couldn't swim.

He was allergic to most juices. Citrus would make his gums bleed. He did enjoy the smell, however, as it would remind him of clean things.

Tyche was the sort who was suited to the computer, or to dancing. Though he was almost freakishly tall, he was still full of grace. He would dance and turn on the floors, lost in the simple pleasures of the beat.

Perhaps, however, in a place like Florida, which was much more open than his sometimes conservative home, he could be accepted. He was odd, to be sure. Four inches short of seven foot, eerily pale skin, thick glasses, yet wearing all the clothing of a well dressed woman.

Tyche did have his idiosyncrasies.

However, the real reason that Tyche enjoyed orange was the vividness The brightness of the sun had been one of the few things that he'd been able to distinguish as a child. A big orange ball in the sky. He would stare at it in awe, causing his mother no end of grief. They'd wondered if he was retarded.

No. He was nearly blind, as a later trip to the optometrist would tell. Of course, it took years for them to take him, and staring at the sun didn't do your eyes any better.

Even after he got his glasses and could now see the world around him, Tyche enjoyed the color orange. It was safe, and it was hope. Even as the darkness started to encroach again, he could still see the sun.

013. Yellow (Medea-Mark)

She was a vision. Such promise in her.

Big blue eyes were hidden behind glasses. The skin that was marked with acne was otherwise good colored. Her teeth were being forced into a straight smile. She was stick thin, but with how her mother was, she would undoubtedly develop a beautiful, curvy figure.

Mark enjoyed his time with Jane, of course. But she was used goods. Medea was such a blank canvas. So pristine. So young. So easy to rip and tear and destroy.

Jane never saw it coming, the filthy whore. Never cared that all he wanted to do was grab that girl and drag her to the bedroom, use her like she deserved to be used, show her the way the world was.

The big brother noticed, though. The way Mark watched his sister. And he warned them. Always watched him. Never let his siblings be alone.

But you couldn't watch forever. And he got her alone one day, when she sent off her little sister. Not that Mark had an interest in the Spic girl. Oh, no. Not one bit.

He grabbed onto that hair that was the color of hay, pulling her to him, breathing in her scent. God, she smelled good. So pure and innocent.

He ripped that away from her in the worst way. Medea sobbed the entire time, fighting as best she could. He left her there, and she curled up away from him, the tears stopping. Mark smiled and moved the kitchen, getting himself a beer.

"MEDDY."

Fuck. Big brother was back. Domovoi was a large man, too. Mark snuck out to the car, only to see Domovoi run out before he could pull away. The teen thrust his arm through the window and pulled him out, beating him into the pavement.

Girls with blonde hair had always been his weakness. When faced with such temptation, he couldn't say no.

014. Green (Jonas)

Funny the things your mind notices when you're being rushed into surgery to take out a bullet on route to your heart.

Danielle Toombes had the prettiest green eyes I'd ever seen on a woman before. Now, Danielle was a good looking woman, don't get me wrong. Gorgeous red hair. Nice lips. And, Good Lord, that woman had a body made for sin. Wasn't scrawny like Mia. No, Danielle was a woman, breasts and hips and curves. Something that could be substantial to hold. But what really did it for me was her eyes. Good eyes. Good color, good shape, and kind. Smart, too.

Like I said before, the things that run through your mind when you're being wheeled into surgery. They plunked that mask down on my face and I went out.

Woke up a bit later and promptly started throwing up into a basket. Yeah. Bit allergic to certain sleep-gas. But Danielle was right there. Talking to me, getting me something to ease the pain of the sickness.

Of course, right after, she told me I wasn't allowed to leave. Fuck that, I had girls to take care of! She called one of my officers (who happened to be her son) and had him go over to watch them.

She also warned the security people that I was there again, and would undoubtedly try to sneak off like I did last time.

Feisty woman, that Danielle.

When my body went into pains from the lead, she let me hold her. And I was right about one thing. She was good to hold. Felt nice in my arms. She fit. I liked it, a lot. Hadn't held someone good like this in years.

We talked, I got released, and asked her out for a cup of coffee. And the Tiger accepted.

015. Blue (Various)

Blue was the color of the sky in Scotland on the day that Domovoi took Dylan as his husband.

It was the color of the sky when Tyr decided that he wanted to jump off the roof of his apartment building.

It was the color of the Sea, when David proposed to Meddy.

It was the color of Oberon's eyes.

It was the color of the lake that greeted Seig every morning when he walked onto his deck every morning.

It was the color of the blanket that wrapped up the baby that Beowulf wished was his.

It was the color of Nicky's eyes when he returned to his Puck.

It was the color of the sky, or so Tyche remembered.

It was the color of Marcy's sweater. Marcy hit Thalassa that day.

It was the color of Hydra's favorite blankie.

To Janet and Benjamin, it was the color of their beloveds eyes.

016. Purple (Puck-Tyche)

"You're not wearing that." Flat disapproval rang in Puck's voice. Tyche looked up, blinking at her. His head tilted to one side slightly. What was she talking about?

"The skirt, Tyche. Now, I don't have any problem with how you dress. It's your body, do with it what you like." Puck crossed her arms. "However, I must step up. In the name of fashion."

"...?" Tyche raised a brow.

"I'm sorry, little brother. But you have to be Latino to be able to carry off that shade of purple. Give me the skirt."

Tyche edged away. He liked this skirt.

"Give me the skirt, Ty."

He moved quicker. He could escape. He could!

"TYCHE TYBALT!"

And Tyche was out of the house, using his superior speed and leg length to get him away from her as fast as possible.

His outrageously purple skirt. Not hers.

017. Brown (Jonas)

There was a nightmare that haunted Jonas from the time he was fifteen until, well... It'd never stopped.

The dream would haunt him forever.

He'd came home from school one day. Normal day. Walked up to the house, called around. Didn't see his sister Samantha, or his two half brothers anywhere.

He'd walked outside, looking for his stepmother. Didn't see her, either.

What he did see was the brown of freshly turned dirt. His heart sank, something in him already knowing exactly why the dirt was turned up. He moved out towards the garden, and as he approached, his stepmother walked from behind the shed, shovel in hand.

Oh, shit, that was the crazy look in her eyes. Sarah ran for him and swung the shovel wide, catching Jonas in the side. No doubt, she wanted to add him to that pile of dirt.

Not bloody likely.

Jonas was a fighter. He always would be. Didn't matter if he was bleeding badly and hurt. He growled and grabbed the shovel taking it away and smacking her upside the head with the flat side. She crumpled, and Jonas threw the shovel to the side, shakily going to the pile.

He dug with his hands, and found both stepbrothers close to the earth. Both dead. But he didn't start crying until he saw the arm under them.

Samantha wasn't quite right. She was slow, never talked. But Jonas had loved her, and Samantha had always been the best for him.

Jonas was tempted to kill his stepmother. Not only had she killed two of her own children and buried them, but she'd killed his little sister.

And chopped up her body.

018. Black (Rose)

If eyes are the gates to the soul, then I should've known that Aaron's was black from the moment I met him. But I was young, and Aaron was a handsome man. He wined and dined and made his way into my pants. I got pregnant from that, and he turned my family against me. Dragged me away from them, saying they didn't deserve me.

As soon as he had me in a new town, the beatings started. And when our first child was a girl, they got worse. I was young, with no real education, and alone. This was the way my life was going to be.

Three more girls followed the first, and Aaron made sure that they were raised his way. It was filled with hate and sexism, not permitting the girls to go to school before the state stepped in. When they were bad he'd lock them in the closet. He was a horrible, horrible man.

And then, the worst thing possible happened: I had a son. Aaron was gleeful, naming the boy Timothy after his father. Starting as early as possible he trained him in his ways.

But Tim never quite caught on to the hate. He was always a gentle child, never wanting to be masculine. When he finally finished growing he was about five foot six, and not very big. Tim preferred chorus to shop, and was a disappointment to his father in every way.

Until he became a cop.

Now Aaron had something to crow about. His son,finally doing something manly! Ah, he was proud. But I watched Tim close. The boy never seemed to be interested in having a life outside the station or home. He had a few friends, from work, an older officer named Dave was one. But he never really talked to me about parties or the like.

One day, my poor boy comes home, looking nervous as hell. He takes me into the living room, sits me down, and looks up at me, squeezing my hands. His eyes were so afraid.

"Mom." He tried to make his voice strong. "I'm gay."

"Oh, honey, don't matter, s'long as you're happy..." I told him, petting his hair.

"Fuck that." Aaron said from the doorway, his eyes dangerous. Oh, God, he was drunk already. And I could see now more than ever just how black his soul was.

019. White (Medea-Janet)

It had always been Janet's dream to see her little girl walk down the isle, dressed all in white, a beautiful blushing bride. But Janey had never walked that path, never settled down before she died.

Domovoi, when he was married, also didn't wear white, nor did his husband. Domovoi wore black and lavender, and his husband a kilt.

Janet didn't expect that Puck would wear white when she got married, either.

Ah, but Meddy. Such a beautiful girl, blond haired and blue eyed, just like her mother, but so much smarter. Meddy found herself a good man, sweet, kind, and who treated her like a princess. And who would spare no expense on their wedding.

Scotland was where it was held, just like Dylan and Domovoi's wedding. In a castle, a beautiful castle, filled with roses. And then there was the dress. Hand sewn by David's mother, it was a beautiful creation.

Janet kissed Meddy's cheek. The girl hadn't been able to stop crying the whole weekend. Janet helped her into the dress, fastening the rather complicated backing of it and resting her head on Medea's shoulder.

"Y'look beautiful, darlin'." She said quietly, her voice having a reverent tone to it. She did. Medea was more beautiful than Janet could have imagined. Meddy smiled, tears in her eyes, looking like the perfect princess. Cinderella had nothing on her.

However, the vision in white wasn't all that calm. She kept sobbing, ruining her makeup more than one. Domovoi and Tyr were sent out to find waterproof makeup. But Meddy kept crying.

Finally, a call from her Prince Charming had her calmed down enough to stop crying, to have her lead out to her Grandda. He gasped and smiled, meeting Janet's eye. Oh, yes. They hadn't gotten this with their children.

Her hand on his arm, veil covering her face, Benjamin walked Medea down the isle to David. It was perfect.

020. Colourless (Tyche)

It is strange, I expect, to the normal person to go blind. However, when it has been happening all your life it is not so strange.

The spots start to creep in, in the corners of your vision. The spots of nothingness. Black is, after all, a void of color. Colorless.

I think I prefer those spots of darkness to the blurring that otherwise occupies my vision. The blurring offers promise to what could have been, what should have been. The blackness, there is no such thing. It is just darkness.

It is worse, however, when I look upon the faces of people whom I care for. My Puck is blurred darkness, my Danielle is blurred brightness, as is Dylan. It is perhaps the worst thing about my loss of vision. There is a promise of what life is like. But it is hidden, obscured. It angers me. Never for long, because I am not that sort of person, but it does anger me.

So I usually sit, my eyes closed, embracing the lack of color that comes with it. It is something that I will have to deal with soon enough.