Timothy had donewhat I asked—and I had managed to record him without messing it up.I checked the recording twice before my shift finished, while in other houses, but his tattoo isn’t visible, and from the angle of the recording, it looked like it was taken by a pervy monster from under the bed.Not that I wasn’t an under-the-bed pervy monster.
Or at least I hadn’t been until I’d seen Timothy going for it with that butt plug.I usually ignored humans when they were busy with private matters, as they weren’t my concern.Now…I longed to lurk under Timothy’s bed.
I probably shouldn’t have touched him at the end, after stopping the recording, but I’d been unable to resist.
“You look pleased with yourself,” Crispin said as he changed out of his uniform.
“I have a new video to post.”This no longer seemed like such a bad idea; it had potential.
“Finally!You’ve got to feed your fans.”
“I do not have fans.”I had curious followers who wanted more of Timothy.He had the fans.
“You can call them whatever you want, as long as they’re paying.”He pulled on a shirt.“You want to go out, or are you going home to upload?”
“The latter, before my brother gets home.”The last thing I needed was for him to stick his nose into the one area of my life that was mine.He could go through my stuff and whine to our parents, but work was the one place he couldn’t touch.He’d failed the bridge exam three times, which was another point of contention between us.
“Good luck.I hope your fans love it.”
So did I.
It didn’t take long for me to get home via the tramline and find the apartment was blessedly quiet.I sat on my bed, hooked my phone up to my screen, and logged into my account onScream and Steam.There were a couple of messages from people who were impatiently waiting for more, but I didn’t bother replying.
I found the perfect teaser and loaded it, tagging it so that it would be shared with the right people on the site, then edited the video to end at just the right moment.Then I watched and waited, hoping that the coins would start pouring in.
They did not.
I stared harder at the screen, willing someone to watch the teaser.
Nothing.
Santa… Once again, this seemed impossible.There were heaps of creators, so why should anyone follow and pay me?
I flopped onto the bed.One video wasn’t going to earn me enough to move out, even though that’s what I’d been hoping for.I reminded myself that plenty of monsters weren’t making breakfast money on the site.In fact, most of the monsters were not making enough to buy breakfast.The scream side had the highest money earners, but it was also about ten times more dangerous.
I logged out and pulled up the serial I was watching and did more listening than watching as I sorted out my laundry and put a load on in the communal laundry in the apartment block.I was one and a half episodes in and meal prepping for the next couple of days when my brother returned home.
“You making dinner?”He asked, eyeing up the tubs on the counter, which I thought made it clear I was not cooking him dinner.
I tapped pause, not wanting to miss the clues being revealed.I loved crime shows, especially when they crossed into the human world.I’m not sure when my fascination started, but no one was surprised when I applied for Bridges.“No.I am making lunches.For me.”I lowered my voice.“Do not eat them.”
He turned, showing me his tail stump.“You owe me.”
“I do not.You had no right to go through my room or eat my food.Keep your paws to yourself.”
“Lighten up.We’re brothers.”
I pause, knife in hand.As tempting as it was to stab him, I’d only damage the knife unless I found a gap in his green chitinous plates.As a child, I’d wanted plates; now I was glad I didn’t have them.I liked having skin, as it meant I could feel my lovers better.
The clawed tip of my tail twitched as I remembered the heat of Timothy’s mouth.
“Being brothers doesn’t mean you can take my clothes—which your plates stretch—or eat the food that I have purchased.And no, I am not going back to splitting the groceries with you.”
“You are the shittiest flatmate I’ve ever had.”He tossed his jacket on the dining table.
At least it wasn’t his pants this time.“Same.”
He rolled all three of his eyes, which was rather dramatic.My third eye was casually known as a dud.It, and the eyelid, had never formed properly, and all I had was a bump with a crease.
