#the little green lawn chairs in this game are so silly

[steakout-05]

this is officially the dumbest thing i ever made

[yonymii]

secret garden

a/n: shoutout to my chamaedorea plant, Debrah 🤩 (also @gigis-galaxy for telling me to write for mattsun) his characterisation is wierd but whatever,, this took wayy too long to write sjkdjkdjks i think i change tenses at the end?? I liked it tho so i kept it

Wordcount: 4.4k

pairing: matsukawa issei x gn!reader

Warnings: cursing

Matsukawa didn’t notice you the first time he saw you. Of course, he’d seen you sat leaning against the wall scribbling notes onto your hand, but he hadn’t really noticed you, not enough to be able to describe your appearance. Like every other year, he’d just sat near his friends and started talking, completely missing your voice reverberating off of the plain white classroom walls, your laugh never reaching his ears. Your friends were always sat in front of you, blocking you from his field of vision, so it was no surprise when you two had been partnered up for a history project he’d had to ask who on earth y/n l/n was.

You hadn’t noticed him either, though. Matsukawa was one of those kids who joked around in class, throwing paper balls at their friends and drawing bad pictures of the teacher on scrap pieces of paper but was too discreet to ever get caught. You’d heard his voice but never bothered to turn around and learn whose it was, never scanned the classroom to take in and memorise the faces of your classmates. In your opinion, they were irrelevant unless you needed them for something. 

Unfortunately, you needed Mattsun for this grade.

You waited for him to approach you, not moving from your seat, occasionally glancing over to see whether he was coming to sit beside you (on the table your friend had begrudgingly moved from). After what felt like hours, there was shuffling in that spot and you heard the chair legs scrape across the wood flooring, then a figure slump into the plastic seat. He looked over to you but you were already sending texts to your friends on the other side of the classroom, trying not to laugh so you wouldn’t be caught by the teacher. He thought you were quite attractive; not like Oikawa, though. Like you were unaware of your appearance, as if you didn’t spend too much time staring in the mirror worrying about how you look to others. 

It was silly, really. That he was thinking so deeply into it when all you two had to do was study together and then produce a poster on World War One. It wasn’t difficult, except everytime you started speaking he felt obliged to look over at your face, your expressions. Mattsun desperately needed to focus, and you weren’t helping.

“Are you free to work on this over the weekend or do you want me to finish it?” he heard you ask as he was packing his bag on the Friday before your project was due. You two had mainly worked on it during his free lunches, seeing as all your clubs were on afterschool and not at lunch break. He turned to see you stood at the doorway of your empty classroom, tapping the end of your foot on the floorboards. He nodded, zipping up his backpack and meandering over to where you stood. “Yeah, you have my number, right? Text me your address and i’ll come over at twelve tomorrow,” he started walking off but looked over his shoulder at you, “If it’s okay with you, that is?”

You just agreed politely, joining your friends on the field at the back of campus. You could hear them talking, but you weren’t listening. You had your phone out but it was hidden under your blazer in case any teachers walked past and saw you; as you sent your address to Mattsun you couldn’t help but worry about the state of your room.

Not that it was messy. In fact, it was abnormally clean for a teenager. It was just… full. You had no idea how to tell your partner that you had no desks to work on because they were all occupied by your various houseplants your grandmother gave you? You sure as hell weren’t moving them just so that he could work. 

Your room was a long rectangle, your bed positioned carefully so it fitted perfectly into the thin space by the window (which was occupied by a long pot of forget-me-nots), and you had two desks; one that was for plants all along and the other was now home to plants but was previously used for studying. You did most of your work sat in bed with a tray for stability nowadays.

“Hey y/n! The bell’s gone, we’ll see you Monday, m’kay?” your friend said as they tapped your shoulder and headed off. You just nodded, tucking your device into the inside pocket of your blazer and packing up your things ready for your next english class. 

-

There were crescent moons of dirt underneath your fingernails and when you put the trowel down to sit back and bathe underneath the late afternoon sun you felt a presence behind you, their shadow above yours. 

"Y/n?"

You pulled one of your airpods out, turning to gaze up at them. They were stood directly in the way of the sun, the skin on their arms illuminated with gold. You hummed in response, shifting onto your backside and exposing your mud and grass-stained knees. They chuckled and bent down to meet you; you shielded your eyes from the brightness of the sky.

"You're partnered with Mattsun for the history project, right?" Iwaizumi asked, his head tilting to the side. You nodded, fingertips digging into the soil beside you. There were a few younger students kneeling to weed the flowerbeds and vegetable patches beside yours, but they were silent. Iwaizumi lowered his voice, noticing the alck of noise in the area. There were crickets chirping quietly and the heat seared your skin. You wiped your forehead with the back of your wrist.

"Yeah, why?" your cousin smiled, standing back up as he noticed your eagerness to get back to work. 

"He's skipping practice some lunches and won't tell anyone what he's doing. It's driving Shittykawa mad." you laughed at the nickname but still smacked his leg. "Don't call your best friend names, Hajime! And yeah. It'll be done by the weekend so don't worry, m'kay?"

The brunette nodded, turning away from you and starting to leave, waving lazily at you while still turned. You shouted goodbye as he walked off, spinning round to face the bed of flowers and positioning yourself onto your knees comfortably.

-

Your doorbell was broken when Matsukawa tried ringing it. He marveled at the vast number of window boxes filled with vibrant flowers (which he couldn't name), knocking three times on the wooden door. It was mid afternoon, the sun was hidden behind a few clouds and when you opened the door and invited him inside there were no lights on, only open curtains and white walls and carpets to brighten the rooms.

"Where are we going?" he asked when you led him to the back door and opened it, ushering him outside. It was a large green lawn, surrounded by tall bushes and beds of flowers. There was a small allotment behind a wooden fence and grey brick wall and he saw a tall wooden structure supporting a plethora of different vegetables, along with all different shades of sweet pea blossoms. In short, your garden was something out of a children's story book. 

By the time the pair of you were sat on the blanket underneath an old looking tree, the sun had come out and was lighting the area. There was a stack of textbooks by the roots and you handed him a few which he opened to the bookmarked pages. Mattsun had been the one to keep hold of your poster so he set it down on a tray in the centre of the blanket, along with his stationary.

"What do you want to focus on for the last segment?" you broke the silence with a question which he was quick to respond to.

"Uhm, the causes? Of the war?" you nodded in agreement and opened a textbook. Mattsun cleared his throat and spoke again.

"Whose garden is this? I mean, uhh, who like, takes care of it?" 

You had to hold back a laugh at his nervous tone, suppressing your grin when you explained that it was, in fact, your garden, and you lived mostly alone. 

He just nodded, avoiding any eye contact.

"It was my grandmother's but i look after it now." Mattsun nodded again, ruling a line along the bottom of your poster to mark off the last section. "It's really nice," he said, looking up at you. You slipped your shoes off, tucking your feet under your legs and meeting his eyes.

"You must enjoy it." 

A smile adorned your lips and you hummed in agreement, outlining the title of your poster (causes of World War One) and explaining your hobby to your partner. Honestly, you knew he probably didn't care, but he would listen, even if it wasn't particularly interesting to him.

"When i was younger i lived with my grandparents and sometimes my dad. He's away on business most of the time though. My grandmother used to bring me out and tell me about all of the plants, and after a while let me grow a few myself. When she passed i took over the garden," you giggled as soom is the sun appeared from behind the clouds and lit up your face, " It looks the same as it always did though. I haven't changed it much."

Although you'd assumed Matsukawa wasn't listening, he hadn't transferred any of your notes onto the large sheet of paper. He was laying on his back staring up at the sky through the leaves of the large oak tree and there were little dots of sunlight decorating his skin and hair. His eyelashes were fluttering against his cheeks; he was stunning in a way you'd never noticed before. You probably wouldn't have been able to see him this way if you'd have only been with him at school, volleyball practice or at games. It was different, but not in a bad way. You didn't know Matsukawa Issei, but you wanted to.

Clearing your throat to gain his attention (which you had anyway), and looked over at him once again, only to see his eyes on you, cheeks flushed a little as he gazed at your face under the shade of the tree. "We should really get this done, Matsukawa. It's been an hour and a half already."

He agreed, sitting up and resting his soft cheek on the palm of his hand, picking up a pen and copying out your notes in neat while you cut out pictures to accompany the writing.

-

Three sharp knocks at your front door woke you up from the light nap you’d been taking on the sofa laying next to your dad who’d come home for the weekend. You watched sleepily as he stood up to answer whoever it was, expecting a delivery or the friendly postman who was also your neighbor.

It was Matsukawa.

“Y/n!- Oh, uhm, hello, sir.” he said, looking down at his shoes and fiddling with his fingers. After the project you’d turned in the pair of you had become good friends and you now often sat with the volleyball team at lunches, visiting them after school during practice and going to watch practice matches. You’d done this every once in a while because of Iwaizumi but it had become significantly more frequent over the last few months.

“Why do you need y/n?” your dad asked Issei, crossing his arms protectively and leaning all his weight onto one leg. The boy who’d come over to see you just smiled up at him as you peeked out from behind the doorway and waved, pushing your dad to the side gently to allow him over the threshold and towards the door leading to your garden.

“He’s a friend, dad. I told you why i got all that food ready this morning, right?” The sun was setting on the horizon as you took Mattsun’s bag and ran up the stairs to your room, putting it by your desk and running back down to meet your friend on the lawn.

He sat on the tyre swing that hung on the oak tree, his legs threaded through the hole as he swung gently in the evening breeze. “You didn’t tell him i was coming over?” Mattzun said, resting his chin on the rubber. 

“I did! I just didn’t give him any specifics is all.” You collapsed onto the blanket that was spread out over the green blades, your head on a large grey pillow. There was a basket by your feet full of cakes and drinks, and you had a speaker resting in the hollow of the tree trunk. The stars were starting to appear in the sky and the moon was hanging low in the orange glow near the rooftops, their silhouette bold against the slowly darkening backdrop. It was beautiful, and with the silence between you two you didn’t notice Mattsun crawling towards you to lay down on your stomach, a can of cola held loosely between both of his hands. He tapped his short nails against it as he looked up at the sky, his delicately carved face illuminated in the fiery sunset.

"You ok, Mattsun? You're being quiet, it's scaring me," you said, looking down at him as he breathed gently, chest rising and falling slowly as his lungs filled with air. You felt him nod against your stomach, hair sticking slightly to the fabric of your shirt. When he sat up to look at you, it was sticking out in weird directions; he looked like someone from a movie who'd been electrocuted. A giggle escaped your lips and he brushed a hand over the back of his locks, smoothing it down effectively. 

He hummed when you pressed one fingertip to the tip of his nose and then the screen of your phone to play some music. Your dad shut off the upstairs and downstairs lights so now it was almost completely dark; the light of the full moon kissed Mattsun’s cheeks and made him glow, your heart stuttered and your breathing becoming laboured and heavy. The boy was laying down on his back on your blanket, chewing a biscuit and sitting up slightly to swallow it before laying down again. The stars blinked at your through the green leaves of the tree, and you leaned forwards to grab your cup that was filled with tea; the warmth radiating from it met your skin and sent a shiver all the way down your spine. You could hear your breathing fall into synchronization with his, your mind clearing and the only thing present in your thoughts was the boy laying beside you.

-

“Y/n, you never sit with us anymore. Just this lunch?” you shook your head at your friend (who you had indeed ditched for the Seijoh volleyball club a number of months ago), sighing loudly so that she heard you. 

“Seriously, i don’t want to sit with you today, okay?” she just stared at you, face not showing any emotion, “I’ll sit with you guys when i feel like it. That isn’t right now.” and you ignored her pleads as you walked to the stairs where Makki was standing, one foot against the wall and his hands shoved into the pockets of his blazer. His bag was leaning against the surface and one of his shoes was sticking out of the side because the bag as too full. When he saw you he picked it up, slinging it over his shoulder and not speaking, just wandering lazily up the staircase and towards the rooftop where you assumed the rest of the third-year volleyball players would be.

The door was open; there were voices coming through the opening and you heard Mattsun’s laugh, your ears singling out the sound and blocking away everything else. 

Your bag dropped to the ground next to Iwaizumi, sitting on the concrete and letting the wind brush across the bare skin of your arms, blazer discarded on your chair a few minutes away in your classroom. It was a nice day; the sun was overhead, your friend group situated in the shadow of the building. The sky was blue and there were fluffy white clouds floating past, but you payed no attention to them, instead choosing to listen to the conversation the third-years were currently having.

“So you’re skipping detention and sitting with us? For what?” Oikawa said, gazing at Mattsun lazily, the sun almost in his eyes but not quite. He shuffled to the left a bit so he could sit completely in the shade. “Won’t you just get afterschool tomorrow, Mattsun?” 

The boy nodded, fluffy hair bouncing atop his head. His lips were set in a straight line and he opened his mouth to speak, bored expression sticking to his features almost comically, as if he were a doll that only had one emotion. You knew his face never reflected his feelings though.

“Yeah,” he gave no further explanation, just ripped a bit of bread from his lunch and pushed it past his lips into his mouth, chewing slowly and looking over to you. You smiled gently, taking a sip of the chocolate milk you’d picked up from the vending machine that morning but hadn’t had a chance to drink. “Why are you staring at me?” was what you decided to say to Issei after a few minutes, your eyes still locked with his. The corners of his mouth twitched up into a smirk and you sighed, cheeks puffing out. 

“You’re so irritating sometimes, Mattsun. I swear Hajime’s the only responsible one here,” you looked over to your cousin, nudging his knee with yours and adding with a coy smile, “And me, of course.”

The brunette shook his head but didn’t bother to speak. “Y/n, you bring plants to school everyday.” Makki deadpanned, nodding his head towards your schoolbag. . You instinctively pulled it closer by one of the straps, crossing your legs so it was in between your thighs. “Not today, Makki. I didn’t bring anything but my work and lunch.”

Oikawa laughed, seemingly flying over to you and snatching up your bag. When he set it down there was a quiet clink, indicating there was, in fact, something inside. “Y/n seriously, you act as if they’re animals. Just leave them on your windowsill or something.” Makki stated as the captain unzipped your bag. You looked down in defeat when he pulled out a small terracotta plantpot with a tiny succulent in the middle. A burro’s tail, Mattsun thought. He recalled you showing him one when he was at yours after practice once.

The group snickered at the plant and you snatched it away, patting the soil to see if it was in need of water and pulling out your waterbottle to give it a bit. It clinked again when you set it down and Mattsun pulled your face up by the chin to see your expression just as you were about to give the plant a drink. You were pouting, he saw, and your eyebrows furrowed when he laughed at you, his lips curved into a beautiful smile as his voice escaped them.

That’s when you realised just how close his face was to yours. The volleyball team had gone quiet and were all watching you two but you didn’t think Issei had heard you, his forefinger hooked under your chin while his thumb brushed over the top. There was a lot more heat in your cheeks than before, you noticed and you’d dropped your bottle, spilling it over the pale concrete and staining it the colour of slate. Your ears picked up a snort from one of the boys and you tried to wiggle away from Mattsun’s grasp, shaking your head but he gripped your cheeks, squeezing them gently. “Stay there.” he ordered, voice low so the other’s probably couldn’t hear.

Issei leaned in closer, but to your surprise, his lips moved past your face and stopped at your ear, a snicker escaping. “You’re a dumbass, y/n.” was all he said but it surprised you and you yelped from the volume, your head banging against the wall. Your vision clouded and went dark, and when you woke up and raised your hand to the back of your head there was warm liquid over it. You didn’t know if it was blood or the water you’d spilt earlier, but when you saw all four of the third years crouched over you, you assumed it was blood. Iwaizumi pulled you up by your back and leant you against the wall, tapping your nose like he used to when you were kids. 

“Mattsun, you fucking idiot! Shit like that can kill people!” you heard Makki’s voice and then saw Issei’s face above yours, worry filling his eyes. “Fuck, y/n, i didn’t mean to do that, i was trying to joke around,” he whispered, hand on your cheek. Oikawa pulled you up and wrapped your arm around his shoulder, his own slung across your back in case you were dizzy. He turned his head to face his teammates, “I’m taking them to the nurse’s office. Go to class without me,” the brunette informed them and when you stepped through the threshold of the office and collapsed onto the bed, Oikawa setting your bag down on the chair (along with your plant) the bell had rung and you saw the others pass by the office, glancing at you, Haijime waving as he passed. 

You didn’t see Mattsun.

-

It wasn’t until the next weekend you saw Issei again. You were sat on the swing under the shade of the oak tree, swaying gently to the beat of some soft piano music after watering the dying rose bush when your dad called you out of the garden. 

It took a few moments for you to recognise the boy sat on your sofa. Mattsun was holding a yellow plantpot in his hands delicately, tapping it with the edge of his too-long fingernails. He didn’t look at you when you sat down beside him but his cheeks puffed out and he set the pot down on your coffee table, your dad watching quietly from the kitchen with a cup of tea cradled in his hands. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.” was the only thing your friend said, after a long but comfortable silence. You nodded, hand on his thigh, “I know. I’m not mad though! Are you free now? We could go sit in the garden if you wanted to,” your voice grew quiet when the brunette looked up at you. He nodded, hair bouncing as he stood up and reached out a hand to help you up. You laced your fingers with his, smiling gratefully as he led you outside. You heard the kettle boiling and mugs clinking as your dad made two drinks for the pair of you.

-

It was still warm in your garden when you finished your picnic. The sun had started setting and the horizon was growing amber, the silhouettes of birds on telephone lines. The skin on your arms was golden from the light and Mattsun was laying next to you, his eyes closed so that his long eyelashes fluttered gently against his cheeks, long shadows extending across his skin.

Your fingers were tangled in his hair and you didn’t want to move them in case he woke up. Really, you had nothing to worry about. Issei wasn’t asleep, but you didn’t need to know that. The breeze fanned over your bare legs and the hairs stood on end. Maybe it was getting a little cold.

Issei opened his eyes when you shifted to move one of your blankets across your legs. He sat up and pulled it over his, shuffling closer to you. His lips were curved up into a delicate arc, tinted red from biting them constantly. His cheeks were flushed pink and his eyes were gazing over at your figure lazily, hooded and tired. You reached over to your bottle, opening it with a fizz. A little of the drink got onto your nose and Mattsun patted it away with the corner of his sleeve, his smile dropped and biting his lip in concentration. 

“Mattsun?” he hummed, placing his hand over yours as you fiddled with the leaves of a hydrangea bush. “You look like you want to say something. What’s up?” your voice was very quiet, but he heard it just fine. The boy shook his head, curls ruffling against your shoulder. 

“It’s nothing.” 

You furrowed your brows but didn’t push any further, knowing that he’d deny it and eventually just leave if you kept asking. The hand that was resting on top of yours moved to your calf that was slung languidly across his thighs, his thumb rubbing circles into your warm skin. It was quiet, without any bird chirping in the background. You heard a car go past your garden; then silence.

His eyes shone when he looked over at you, and you didn’t know if it was the light from the house or if he was really just that beautiful, but it took the air out of your lungs all the same. The usual lazy smile danced on his lips and he pulled your head down and pressed the smile to your cheek, the feeling of his lips on your skin leaving a burning sensation; it felt good. The heat rose onto your face and it felt as if your whole body was on fire, all the way from the tips of your fingers to the top of your nose. 

He was already looking away, though. 

For Mattsun, this was enough; he didn’t know why his heart was pouding so hard it felt like his ribcage was going to crack open or why his eyes were trying to look anywhere but at you. And as much as he was scared, he liked it this way. If not telling you what he thought was happening to him meant that you could stay with him like this, he’d do it. He’d do anything.

The only thing stopping him was the feeling of your hand on his cheek and something heavy crawling into his lap; not until your lips met did he notice it was you who was so close to him. He saw the moon out of the corner of his eye, and the stars around it but nothing at that moment shone as brightly as you did. It was almost blinding, you were almost blinding.

Mattsun had never been very good with his words but he didn’t need them with you. You thought the look in his eyes when you both pulled away was enough to explain what he was thinking.

uhhh @reiningsun​ 👉👈 mayhaps?? KJBDKW im so embarrassed

[theliterateape]

Why Can't We Just Share the Last Slice of Pizza?

by Don Hall

I had the first TV dinner in possibly forty-years a few weeks ago and it was kind of incredible.

Sure, it was a Hungry Man® chicken and mashed potatoes concoction and had more sodium than a bucket of sea water but it was still oddly delicious and covered in a gravy comprised of nostalgia and gluten. I didn't buy the frozen tray in a cardboard box. No, my wife has, in the pandemic, taken to rebranding her self as a 'resource locator' otherwise known as a 'dumpster diver.'

It sounds odd but I'm convinced that when the Second Great Depression takes hold, I'm married to the most resourceful and extraordinary partner on the planet. She finds brand new shoes, genuine Shriner fez's, and food. Cans of food thrown away. Expired bags of pretzels. And still-frozen TV dinners.

The nostalgia of consuming this marvel of the fifties, the fully-prepared dinner, ready to heat and eat in front of the television comes from my youth. In terms of economic status there were times in my earliest days when we were 'poor'. Now, mom wouldn't let us use that word to describe our situation. She preferred to say we were 'broke'. That distinction was my first lesson in reframing your perspective to fuel optimism.

Whichever it was called it was common practice growing up to eat TV dinners and mom would cut each portion in half (even the weird lava-like brownie or apple-crunch) so we had a meal the next day as well.

When we couldn't afford a Swanson-manufactured meal, she'd make what she called 'Spanish Rice'—Minute rice, a green pepper, tomato sauce, and Tabasco—another rebranding that certainly made this odd and rough cultural appropriation seem both unsavory and about as white as it could be.

Mom worked hard. My recollection was that she was often working several jobs and doing the best she could to keep us in clothing and food with a roof over our heads despite the fact that the minimum wage at the time was $1.60. She also had a way of reframing things so that, at no point, did we feel like we were missing out on much.

On top of that raising me could not have been easy.

We moved around a lot so I was always the new kid in school. Even with teachers and administrators, there is a tribal imperative to put the new members in their place, establishing the rules of behavior and assigning the slot for the newest members. I was never much of a conformist so this dance of going along to get along didn't take. All of which made my struggling mother's life one of battling the powers that be to protect her less than socialized monkey-son.

There are stories. The time I was forbidden to speak in class so I drew pictures of a butt and a butt pooping to silently curse some kids out. The incident of my failing to stay put during classes and finding escape routes during lunch that caused an epic battle as the Vice Principal decided to ban me from the Free Lunch program out of pique and spite. The summer when I was caught beating up Cub Scouts because they wouldn't let me join due to my mother's financial inability to buy me the requisite uniform.

There's an image I have in my head of my tiny mother almost coming to blows with a much larger woman because the woman called us "poor white trash." We were white but my mother wouldn't abide her children embracing the twin ideas of us being poor or being trash.

“No, Donald. You cannot just eat the last piece of pizza. You need to learn to share.”

In Chicago there's a thing called 'dibs.' 

Sometimes it snows big and the streets are plowed but the parking spots are all but obliterated by small mountains of snow. The diligent among residents get their shovels out of the garage and clear out the snow from in front of their homes so that they will then have a place to park. They have done the work, so they feel entitled to the benefits of that labor.

The problem lies with those who do not shoulder in and remove the snow yet still feel entitled to park on public streets that they, after all is said and done, have paid for with their tax dollars.

Thus 'dibs.' The shoveler decides to put a lawn chair or card table or statue of the Virgin Mary in the spot they have labored over so when they come home from work, the spot has been saved for them and them alone.

It all sounds silly until you look at from an economic perspective. There are more cars in Chicago than there are legal places to park. It's a fact. The demand for spaces is greater than the supply. Parking tickets cost drivers thousands of dollars a year and the 'ticket dicks' are as numerous as the homeless. When it snows and the plows come through there are suddenly even less spaces than there were the night before.

Given the city will clear the roads but not the curbs the solution for half the population is to carve out their own space and the other half parks wherever they can. Those who take the spots but do not shovel are capitalizing on the labor of those who do and it pisses them off.

“No, Donald. You cannot just eat the last piece of pizza. You need to learn to share.”

I was thirteen. I was growing. I ate like a fucking locust with the table manners of the Cookie Monster. There it was—the last piece. I wanted it. My sister was small and weak. What was she gonna do?

“Offer your sister the last piece.”

“…do you want the last…”

“YES!” she barked and shoved the whole piece in her mouth.

“That’s NOT FAIR! We coulda split it! That’s not sharing, that’s theft!”

That’s Capitalism. Cut throat. Haves and Have Nots. It is simply not in human nature to share. In all of recorded history there has always been, in every society and civilization, when approached with abundance, a small percentage of those at the top and a much larger percentage at the bottom. Call it what you want—winners and losers, the One Percent and the Ninety-Nine (great name for a prog rock band), Bourgeoisie and Proletariat—it all amounts to the same dynamic.

It occurs to me that in the fight to get people fired from their jobs for tweeting arguably terrible things the double standard in place is exceptionally capitalist. On the ‘cancel culture’ side is the idea that people should be held accountable for their words in the world and, if they cross the line, then employers should fire them. On the other side, these same people will scream that an employer who decides that a kid wearing the costume of his culture or using grammatically incorrect language cannot be fired.

Both are individuals putting themselves and their ability to express themselves at the center of a business that has little to do with the individual. Everyone should have the right to their own specific identity as they see fit but no one should have the right to exert themselves above a business that pays them a salary in order to center things on them.

It’s frustrating. Economic class is the true great divider in the world. Because it is so ingrained in the human experience to live with those who have the cash and many who do not, economic class seems an unassailable unfairness. It’s an immovable and undeniable trait in societies of every stripe. 

The landlord who leverages herself to get loans to buy an apartment building, fix it up to be livable, and rents it out to people has shoveled the snow. The tenant who claims it is unfair to be evicted from that apartment building because they cannot pay the rent is parking wherever there is a spot.

And it pisses everybody off.

No, it is neither race nor gender that is the engine of inequity. It’s almost entirely economic class.

Since the existence of class is so ever-present and unmoving, we focus on other things to change society. The battle to curb billionaires has never really taken hold despite the obvious problems they present. So we focus on race, we focus on gender. We spend our energy ignoring that most of inequity that exists between humans is about economics and find as many differences between those of us on the Have Not side as we can.

Why is it so hard to get rid of billionaires and that pernicious One Percent? Because we all want what they have. We all want the last piece of pizza and the parking space. We all want the luxury of luxurious things. We resent the things we'd have to do to get that luxury so instead we tear at anyone and everyone to gain whatever slice we can.

No one wants to shovel out that goddamned parking space. Trust me. In thirty years of living in Chicago, I shoveled tons and tons of snow to get that coveted spot. I never did the 'dibs' thing but I empathize with the fury at someone taking that spot I've labored over. 

Study after study indicates that it is economic class that holds us back far more than race or gender but the road to power is through a perception of grievance these days and the only evil when presenting poverty as the problem is human nature. Men and women can be demonized. That game has been around for-freaking-ever. African Americans can demonize whites (but not black Americans because African immigrants in America do, on average, far better economically than whites). We can go the People of Color vs White People but, in order to make that case, Asians have to be ignored or made white-adjacent. 

No, it is neither race nor gender that is the engine of inequity. It’s almost entirely economic class. Not that acknowledging that will change anything.

The utopian ideals of Socialism and even Communism sound better than Capitalism. The problem is the humans are built from the DNA to compete. Compete for resources, for sexual partners, for jobs, for shelter. Competition is as instinctual as our desire to procreate and Capitalism is a competitive sport. Throughout history, progress toward learning to truly share that slice of pizza is slow because it goes against our very nature. Not impossible and thus worth the effort but fucking S-L-O-W.

A friend recently posited that maybe I have gained some wisdom in my aging. He then switched and decided that maybe what we think is wisdom is just age plus exhaustion. Whichever it is, I have learned to share. I've also learned that in order to share, I have to assume my offer of the last piece of pie is going to be taken and stuffed into my sister's mouth. I can be wounded by the gesture, I can even be annoyed by it. I have to let it go.

I'm comfortable with the concept of enough. Meaning, if I have enough to share, I have enough to survive. Even if it's only enough of my mom's Spanish Rice.

There will be those, always those, who are so imbued with the need to compete that there is never enough. There will be those, perpetually those, who have not had enough and are willing to tear it out of the mouths of those who have.

And there will always be those, unendingly those, who are fine parking in the open spot knowing that someone else put in the work and not caring enough about anyone else that they take up the space and benefit from the labor without contributing.

On the best days, I don't run into them.

[hpdabbles]

Kindness and Remorse Part 3

“Have a good first day of school darling!”  Petunia calls once more from the doorway. She dapped her eye with a handkerchief, but she was beaming at him none the less. Around her various adults were doing the same, waving and smiling at the classroom of little people.

She’s one of the few who can get away quickly. One little boy was crying and holding onto his mother's leg with dear life, another little girl demanded her father to sit at the small tables and refuse to allow him to get up.   

If Dudley wasn’t an adult trapped in a human body he’s pretty sure he be one of the wailing ones too. 

“Bye-bye Mommy.” He calls back waving the hand that wasn’t holding Harry’s in a death grip. He didn’t want the boy to wander off, seeing as his little cousin had the curiosity of monkey and tended sniff out trouble if left alone for too long.

Just the other day Dudley had seen him walk into the street after seeing a stray dog he just had to pet. Thankfully there hadn’t been any traffic and he was able to successfully get him back into the front yard without a trip to the hospital. 

Since they had turned four just a few months ago, both were officially starting schooling. Harry had been a little nervous but seem to be happy he would be staying with Dudley. He hadn’t gotten fussy, but Dudley did see his lower lip quiver when Petunia started for the door.

“I love you!” Petunia’s voice shook a little as she presses her hand on her chest dramatically, as if though he was going off to war. His mother was reacting to him not being around the house all day rather hard it seems.  

“I love you too,” He says not nearly as dramatic but just as genuine. It hurts to still love them after everything he’s been though but he can’t help it. He loves his parents, had when he cut them out of his life and he thinks he’ll still love them till the day he died.

But loving someone doesn’t mean you are willing to forgive them.

Petunia’s whole face soften, glowing in warmth. “Listen to your teacher, behave and I’ll pick up later alright pumpkin? Once you get out, we can go get ice cream!”

“We really getting ice-cream, Aunt Petunia?” Harry cuts in, excited at the idea of a frozen treat. At once his mother’s face tenses but with the crowd around she doesn’t yell at him. She can’t even sneer since it will ruin the kind heart image she been building up.

She waves at her son as if though her nephew hadn’t spoken before turning on her heels and walking away. 

Dudley is quick to reassure Harry before his face could do so much as fall. Swinging their linked hands he leads his cousin to one of the empty round blue tables. “Did you hear Harry? Mommy said we can have ice cream!”

“Ice-cream!” Harry cheers. The little boys take a sit just as the teacher rushes over to give them each a long piece of paper and a bucket of crayons. She’s got warm light brown curls that end just around her shoulder with equally brown eyes. 

Dudley stares at her, usually not one to take notice of someone’s looks, but she bares a heartbreaking resemblance to Tiffiny at first glance. She’s got the same shape of lips, but they are a bright red, something that snaps him out of his daze.

His wife was many things, but a wearer of bright lipstick wasn’t one of them. Looking away, he rubs at his chest willing it to stop aching. It’s been four years now (counting the one year he spent with Harry’s house in the future) but he still feels her absence every once in and a while. 

“Hello, boys. I’m Ms.Williams and I’ll be your teacher this year.” Ms. Williams says. “We’re going to start the year off by drawing our houses. All the people and pets that live there too. Can you two do that for me?”

“Uh-huh!” Harry bounces in his chair. Picking up one of the blue crayons he quirks a shy smile upwards to the teacher “Me and Dudley color all the time Ms. Williams.”

“That’s wonderful, Mr. Potter. While you two draw, we’re going to wait for more boys and girls and then we’re all going to show each other our drawings”  Ms. Williams says reading the name tag on Harry’s uniform. Dudley had pinned it to his shirt after neither of his parents attempted to do so.  

It’s a good thing he did, he had a faint memory that Harry was always getting in trouble with losing his name tag in primary school. He’ll have to keep an eye on the pesky thing. It wouldn’t due for Harry to develop a habit of misplacing his things. 

Harry is quick to start filling up his paper with lines of various colors. He’s got the basic shape of a square done, even if it is lopsided and he is happy to add a triangle. He bites down on his lower lip just slightly- a sign that Harry was in deep concentration.

Dudley watches him work for a moment before turning to his own paper. 

Over the last two years, he’s been able to successfully turn his cousin’s attention to the way of drawings and doodles. Harry still had a blast when playing with his toys, but he seems to be extra excited that Dudley decorated his room’s walls with his pictures. 

Sure, they were just random squiggles with lines all over them and quite frankly didn’t resemble much of anything, but they were made with lots of love. His parents weren’t going to praise Harry for his art, nor would they ever hang on the fridge like Dudley’s but the pieces of random color swirls were appreciated by someone. 

Petunia and Vernon didn’t quite like it. Often times they would tear down the papers. It didn’t matter since Harry was always quick to replace them with new pieces. Dudley lies about storing them somewhere in the attic for the future since he loved them so much to not hurt Harry’s feelings.

At age four, Harry’s drawing abilities while not wonderful works of art were pretty advanced for his age and if his skill was cultivated more, Dudley had no doubt he quite gifted.  Not that he wants to force Harry into any field but a slight nudge here or there wouldn’t do no harm. 

Josh Sr. did say drawing could be a good coping mechanism once when Dudley was still just beginning to date his daughter. He’s not overly sure if it can do anything for Harry but giving the boy some mind health tools now would do him some good in the long run.

He hopes. 

“What wrong Dudley?” Harry asks while gesturing at his blank paper. “You not having fun?”

Smiling at his cousin Dudley picks up the black crayon   “Nothing wrong Harry. I’m just thinking.” 

“What about?”

“How to draw mommy.”  

“I can show you!” The little boy pushes his paper over allowing the time traveler to get a glance at his work. So far he’s gotten the house done, and three figures floating above a green line- the lawn maybe?- that could be humans. 

Dudley inwardly frowns that only one of the figures has a smile. The smallest one, with bright yellow hair. 

“Wow, Harry you did a good job!” He gushes dramatically. It takes all his will power not to baby-talk, but he manages. Tapping his finger against the smiling figure he asks “Is that me?”

“Thank you, Dudley,”  Harry smiles bashfully, a please blush on his face. “Uh-huh, that’s you. This is Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia.”

The child’s finger points at a large circle with a mustache, then a talk nearly stick figure, holding a purse. Both have large frowns and angry slanted eyebrows. More worrying, however, is upon closer examination he can’t spot Harry. 

“Where are you?”

“Huh?”

“Where are you in the picture? Or are you not done?” 

“Silly I’m where I’m supposed to be.”  Harry points to the house window, where a little figure with wild black lines at its head has been added, half-hidden behind the-um curtains?. The figure is smiling at least.  

It doesn’t stop his stomach from turning over.  Despite how hard he’s tried to make things better seems Harry is still being affected by his monster of guardians. 

Of course, he is, you dumb oaf. A nasty voice snickers mockingly in his head. It sounds awful like his father. Kids repeat what they hear. Kids draw what they feel.

Inhaling deeply, while mentally counting backward from ten, Dudley manages a smile at his cousin. It hurts somewhere deep inside that Harry thinks this is normal or that maybe, for the first time around, the drawing of the first day of school was the exact smile with the slight change that only drawing-Harry was smiling. “ It looks nice.” 

Harry beams back at him. He then launches into his explanation of how to draw Petunia. Dudley listens to every word, making the appropriate sounds to prove he’s is, but remains mostly silent. 

“You want to add more to your picture Harry?”

“Yeah, the flowers Aunt Petunia had me put in the garden.”

A strain grin.  “Put them in then.”

“Okay, Dudley.”

Later, the class presents their drawings. Harry’s is one of the best ones, he notes with a smile. Dudley holds a crudely drawn house with only two figures on the outside of it. Both with large smiles, holding hands.  One of the figures has a lighting mark above it’s dotted eyes.

Harry loves it. 

The rest of the day passes in a slow blur of singing kid songs, drawing pictures and little kid’s laughter. The rules are explained to them all, the kids eager to either do as they told right away or run about without a care in the world. About twenty kids are ranging from the ages of four and five. All of them were allowed to pick different colored tables with no more than six. 

There is chatter, squealing and giggles all throughout the day, some kids choose to scream their thoughts instead of talking. Ms. Williams is quick to remind everyone what an inside voice is.

Dudley is honestly surprised Ms. Williams can keep up with them all and not drop from exhaustion. He’s all for nap time, the moment it arrives, and he’s not even in charge.

Dudley didn’t really approach the other kids in the classroom but he did respond if any of them talk to him. Preferring to stay in the background he watches them go about their lives contently. Harry, on the other hand, had been invited to a playground game of kickball and had struck up a friendship with Piers Polkiss, the two almost attached at the hip afterward. 

Piers had even moved over to their little blue table away from the overflowing green table just to keep talking to Harry. Apparently, the two enjoy coloring just as much and this meant they were now best friends.

Funny how life works sometimes. 

Petunia had kept her word taking the boys to get ice-cream after picking them up. She nearly didn’t buy Harry a cone, but Dudley started to cause a scene in the ice-cream polar, and she was finally forced to give in. 

Not wanting her to do something like forcing Harry to throw his cone out the car window, Dudley had requested they stay to eat in the booths so he could show off all his drawings. Vernon wasn’t to be home for another three hours, and Petunia could get dinner done by then, meaning she didn’t see the trouble of staying.

The family got home and Petunia was quick to order Harry into the kitchen. “Come, freak. Dinner needs to be done. Get in here to cook. Now.”

Dudley's face darkens but he followed after them silently. He’s forgotten that his mother had started her ridiculous chore list around the time Harry was four. He never really thought about how awful that truly was until he had grown. It was sickening she expected Harry to be anywhere near the stove as a four-year-old, never mind the forced labor he had to do the following years.

Well, she’s not going to get away with it this time. Not while he was around. 

Harry had been forced to work in the garden most of yesterday afternoon with his mother giving sharp instructions. Against his best efforts, it seems he couldn’t spare Harry of his chores. Not while his mother lived with the jealousy and rotting ideas of normal.

He knew this was a problem he couldn’t just scream at until it went away. Resistances in some cases just weren’t the answer. Much like swimming against the rip currents, he needs to find a way around the problem.

It took him all of last night and today to think about it but Dudley may have figured something out.  

“ We’re making dinner Mommy?” He asks following the pair. Petunia turns around with a warm smile.

“Oh, not you darling. Why don’t you go watch the telly while we work?”

“But I don’t want to.”

“Popkins, please-”

“I want to cook.” He says stubbornly. He hugs his upper arms, in an ill imitation of crossing his arms. Its something he quite remembered Daisy doing at this age, where she just couldn’t get her arms to cross over her tiny chest and he uses it whenever he’s throwing a tantrum. “Why can Harry cook but not me? Do you love him more?”

Petunia splutters “Popkins of course not! I just don’t want you getting hurt, is all!”

Dudley hugged his arms harder, pouting up a storm. Harry was watching everything with wide eyes. He glances at Dudley’s poster before quickly coping it and turning to his mother with his own pout. 

Yes, Harry, join the resistance.

“Mommy I want to cook!” 

“Popkins, wouldn’t you rather-”

“I want to cook! I want to cook! I want to cook! I want to COOK!” He shouts the last word stomping one of his feet. He then starts huffing and puffing, right before letting out a loud and long scream. 

His tantrum on full force.

Petunia fretts in front of him.  This must be tough for her, seeing as she never had to choose between letting her son get his way over not putting a child in danger. 

Serves you right. He thinks viciously. Either she gives in and Dudley helps cook, which lessens the load on Harry or she doesn’t which makes Dudley upset that Harry is enjoying something he isn’t. This could lead to her not making Harry cook at all even.

“A-alright,” She says eventually.  “You can help. Just listen to everything I say alright?”

“Yes, mommy! Thank you, mommy!”

As Petunia chops the vegetables she has the boys mixing one bowl together, doing most of the work herself while explaining why she does what she does. In a rare moment of affection, she answers every question Harry has, even biting back a smile when the little boy claps his hands and tells her how smart she is.

It seems Harry really taken to the idea of being a little helper, and his mother loves positive attention. She preens under it, as she carefully crafts them up something to eat. 

At one point she even offers to teach the boys how to bake cookies this weekend, when she buys the groceries. Harry is beside himself. 

She then hands them both some vegetables to wash, which really she had already done so, and made various points to not going anywhere near the stove to Dudley. By proxy, Harry had received the same warning. 

Dudley watches the pair throughout the whole thing and wonders if his mother wasn’t a lost cause as he originally thought. She then tried to get Harry to wash the dishes, large cutting knives and all. He imminently stood beside his cousin at the sink fighting back the disappointment. 

Petunia just took one step forward and two steps back.

Sometimes the ones that hurt us the most are the ones who should love us the most. Tiffiny’s voice echos into his ears as he helps Harry dry the dishes. Petunia had taken to the actual washing once she realizes Dudley wasn’t going to let Harry touch the soapy water before him. You have to remind yourself not to let those people back in once you kick them out. It’ll only cause you more pain.

When Vernon got home that night, Dudley had planted himself next to Harry at the kitchen counter refusing to take a seat at the table until his cousin was allowed to. This was something that had become a tradition over the last two years and like the nights before Harry was eventually seating at dinner time. 

“How was school, Dudley?” Vernon asks his son halfway through the meatloaf and steam vegetables, Petunia had put together with their help.

“Fun! Harry and me, got to take naps and Harry made a friend!” He answers with fake excitement. Moving his green beans and baby carrots from his plate onto Harry’s, with a pointed look at how little he’s been serve- They are not starving him this time!- before he asks.  “What is his name again?”

“It’s Piers. He likes to draw too! He made this really big fire truck!” Harry chirps. He happily starts feasting upon the green beans, one of his favorites. He doesn’t speak with his mouth full since Petunia hates it- only when Harry does it apparently. Swallowing his food, the green eye boy is quick to describe his day. “Ms. Williams let us draw twice! We got to sing songs, and play kickball and-”

“I was asking Dudley.” Vernon cuts in a cold voice “Not you boy.”

“Let him finish Daddy,” Dudley says just a notch away from the stern, but only barely able to keep his disdain out of his tone. He pouts his lips and makes his eyes wide at his father. The man takes one look at him before grumbling into his meal.

“Fine. Keep going, boy.”

Harry hesitates for only a minute before he’s back into talking about his new best friend. Dudley makes sure to respond, and for a while, it’s only the kids speaking. He starts to talk about his day, his parents now joining the conversation.

Towards the end of the dinner, Dudley launches into his other plan of attack. Without changing his outer behavior he casually slips in “I told Ms. Williams Harry sleeps in the cupboard sometimes and she made a funny face.”

Both adults freeze.  Acting like he doesn’t notice, Dudley and his cousin share a laugh. “She’s so silly to not know you can sleep under the stairways right Harry?”

“Uh-huh. Ms. Williams kept asking me funny questions too.”

“Questions?” Petunia chokes. “What kind of questions?”

“She asked if you hit me, isn’t she is funny? She didn’t even believe Dudley when he said where my room was until we showed her the pictures.”

“Pictures!? What pictures!?” Vernon demands jumping up.

“From my camera Daddy,” Dudley says unable to hide his wide grin. His parents had given him an old polaroid a few months ago. Dudley had made an effort to be seen taking pictures all around the house, using Harry as a model, as to not raise suspicion when he took pictures of Harry’s room. 

No one had known what went on in at 4 Privet Drive which is why they were able to get away with most of their abuse on Harry but Dudley remembered how quick his parents were to make things look better the day they thought someone was watching Harry.

True, it had been someone magical,  but the point still stands that it was the sense of thinking no one cared enough to look let them act as they wished.

They could do nothing now that another adult had evidence. 

“She really liked them! She said I took the best pictures ever mommy!”

“Popkins, where are these pictures of Harry’s room?”  Petunia asks, her face pale like milk. 

“Ms. Williams has them.”

The adults trade some looks before they have them go up to Dudley’s room. Later that same night, they sit the boys down to explain that Harry’s room is no longer going to be under the stairway. He will now be living in the extra bedroom they kept Dudley's toys. 

He would be sleeping with his cousin tonight and while his mother tucked him in, and by extension Harry, Petunia took much a very long time to explain that Harry’s old room wasn’t a bedroom but a playhouse. 

If Ms. Williams asks again they were to tell her that’s where they played make belief but it was considered Harry’s since he was the one that found it. Dudley seeing his chance asked if they could have a treehouse or a playhouse in the yard as a secret base for more make-belief games. 

Petunia's whole face brightens as if an idea struck.  “Why we could get you both a playhouse couldn’t we? Harry’s old room was just a practice one until your Daddy made enough money to get you these ones. Tomorrow, we’ll all go to the store and pick something out.”

“Wow! We’re going to have a secret base!” Dudley says to Harry who is laying next to him. His cousin is all but vibrating in child adrenalin ecstasy, his hands gripping his half of the blanket tightly. “Wait till we tell Ms. Williams!” 

“Oh, I bet your teacher would just love to hear all about your secret bases boys. Maybe sure to let her know. Both of you.”  Petunia orders as she flickers out the lights. The room is bathed in the soft brightness of his night light, the color-changing built making the stares that it shoots extra lovely. “Goodnight Popkins. Sleep tight. Mommy loves you.”

“Night Mommy, I love you too.” 

Once she leaves, closing the door behind her, Dudley turns to Harry, tucking him in a bit better and whispers  “Goodnight Harry. I love you.”

“Night Dudley. I love you too” 

There is a moment of quiet before Harry whispers “I got a room now like you.”

Dudley can’t help the rush of triumph sing through his body. Yes he doubts this will last, and there is still much more to do to make sure Harry has a happier life but this is his first real sign of progress. His first two real victories in a roundabout way. “Yeah, you do.”

“This is the best day ever!” Harry whisper-shouts. 

“It really is.” 

A rush of warmth surrounds the boys as they drift off to sleep, Harry pressing his face into his cousin’s hair while Dudley had an arm secured around him in a hug. Neither realizing the warmth was unnaturally comforting or the slight silver shine of the air surrounding the bed, blessing their dreams with happiness.

[lefaystrent]

Kid!Logan au pt.4

Fandom: Thomas Sanders, Sanders Sides

Pairings: platonic LAMP

Summary: Logan would say that he signed up for a movie night, not this, but he didn’t really sign up at all, now did he?

Masterlist Link

They go to Roman’s house.

Logan hates it.

“No need to look so gloomy, Shortstop.” Roman grins as he hops out of the car.

Logan sulks in the backseat, reluctant to exit. The two-story house is big and nice and has a manicured lawn with the most elegant looking plastic flamingo he has ever seen positioned by the mailbox and Logan hates it.

“Could we not have gone to Patton or Virgil’s house for this gathering? Were those not options?”

Roman’s dramatics are difficult enough to bear when at school. In his own home though?

“My place is small,” Virgil explains, still sitting in the backseat with him. Patton has already gotten out so it’s just them two. “As for Patton, he’s got a big family. It’s always been easiest to hang out at Roman’s.”

Logan turns towards him. From the way he talks, the three of them have been coming over to Roman’s for a long time. He wants to ask about it, understand how people can remain so close for so long, and distantly he wonders if their bond will waver once they’re out of high school, like so many friendships do.

“Why are you still in the car?” Logan asks. “Do you not want to go inside?”

Virgil looks out the windows, eyes lingering towards the front door the other two have disappeared through. “I know we kinda pushed this on you, and I’m sorry.”

An apology.

That isn’t what he expects, nor is he quite comfortable with the subdued air around Virgil. Logan shakes his head, voice dripping with disdain, “If anything, I am more than happy to blame this entirely on Roman.”

Virgil stifles a laugh with his hand. “Ya know, I can talk to him. Make him take you home if you really don’t want to stay. He’s not really an asshole, just an extrovert.”

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.” Logan opens the car door, ready to get out. “I might as well stay and let you all get this ‘hanging out’ with me out of your systems. You’ll soon find I’m not the most ‘fun’ person to be around.”

Virgil smirks. “Don’t hold your breath.”

They go inside and the interior is just as gorgeous as the outside. Afternoon sunlight streams in through gossamer curtains, shining bright across the wood floor. The rooms are washed in soothing creams accented by rose gold light fixtures. Potted plants litter the place, the touches of green standing out. In the dining room they pass, Logan spies a twinkling chandelier.

“What do Roman’s parents do?” Logan asks conversationally.

“Eh, his mom’s a realtor and his dad is . . . something.”

“Something?”

“I forget how to pronounce it but it’s like in engineering or something. He takes contracts out of state a lot. Why do you ask?”

Logan looks around them pointedly. “Well they certainly don’t appear to be lower class.” He looks up at Virgil to find his gaze boring into him. “What?”

Virgil shakes himself. “Nothing, just . . . Most kids don’t really make those kinds of observations.”

Logan frowns. “I am not most kids. I am only me, and that’s all I know how to be.”

“. . . is that why you don’t try to pretend?”

“Pretend what?”

From across the house, they hear Roman shout, “Are you guys coming or what? I can hear you breathing in there.”

“No you can’t, shut up!” Virgil rolls his eyes. He knocks lightly at Logan’s shoulder. “C’mon, before Princey throws a hissy fit.”

Logan is led down a hall to the other end of the house where a den opens up. Two of the walls are made up entirely of windows, letting in more than enough natural light. In the middle of the room there’s a green table with a short net splitting the middle. Roman has a couple of paddles in his hands, waving them around.

“Today is the day you will know utter defeat, Shea!” Roman declares, aiming one of the paddles at Virgil.

Virgil tilts back his head and lets out a deep, evil chuckle. “In your dreams, Prince.” He tosses his bag onto a nearby chair and takes position at the other end of the table.

“Why is there a ping pong table here?” Logan asks in bewilderment, coming to stand next to Patton.

“To play ping pong,” Patton answers wisely.

Logan face palms. “No, I meant that I was under the impression that we were to have a movie night?”

“We have a loose definition for movie nights.” Virgil shrugs. He’s picked out a paddle for himself and spins the handle in his hand.

“We can still watch something later if you want,” Patton offers. “Virge and Ro usually play a few rounds first though.”

“With Patton as our lovely score keeper!” Roman bellows in an announcer voice.

“I’ve got a whistle,” Patton shows Logan gleefully, as if that makes it official.

“That is indeed a whistle,” is all Logan can think to say.

“Enough chit-chat,” Roman interrupts impatiently and—mother of god, he’s posing at Virgil to intimate him or something. “The gauntlet has been thrown down! You must answer its call.”

“That eager to lose?” Virgil taunts.

“The only one who will be losing today is you, Surly Temple.”

They’re standing at either end of the table now, but Roman is still armed with two paddles.

“Isn’t that against the rules?” Logan points out. “It’ll give him an unfair advantage.”

Virgil doesn’t look bothered in the slightest. “Not that it matters.”

Patton leans down to whisper to Logan, “Roman’s never won a single match.”

“Is he that bad?”

“No, Virgil’s just that good.”

Now Logan’s eager to watch.

Virgil serves first. Roman smacks the ball lightning quick, his eyes sharp and more calculated than Logan is used to seeing. For as swift as Roman’s strikes are, Virgil’s are barely able to be followed. Logan theorizes that his movements are linked to muscle memory and sheer instinct. There’s a way that Virgil moves with serpentine fluidity, yet his strikes exude all the hunting prowess of a big cat.

While Virgil is fast on the attack, Roman is left playing goal keeper.

“That’s six to two!” Patton announces after Virgil scores yet again.

“I’ve never been interested in sports,” Logan mentions, eyes drinking in the frustrated snarl on Roman’s face. “But this is enthralling.”

“Oh, so you think you can do better?” Roman growls at Logan. “Just you wait. I’m still in this!”

“I’m rootin’ for ya, Roman!” Patton cheers. “You got this!”

“Aren’t you supposed to stay neutral?” Logan asks.

“Eh, well, he needs all the help he can get.”

“Patton! I can hear you!”

“Whoops! Sorry, kiddo!”

Logan shakes his head. In truth, he’s older than these kids, and these silly antics are why he didn’t bother pursuing social connections outside of school. They’re loud and childish, and he has no need of them. That’s what he told himself going into this.

That’s what he tries to tell himself now.

Wonder of wonders, he’s fighting down the urge to smile.

By the time Virgil scores his ninth point, he’s grinning like a shark. In school, he isn’t one to talk much. Logan had easily picked up on his introverted nature and his nervous tendencies like hiding in the hood of his jacket or picking at his nails or clothing.

Here, paddle in hand and Roman struggling to catch up, he’s in his element. This is Virgil outside of school, walls down.

“He’s a real powerhouse, isn’t he,” Patton laughs softly. He must have noticed Logan’s staring.

“I haven’t seen him so energized before,” Logan hums in agreement.

“You should get him talking about his favorite bands or shows or games,” Patton says with a fond smile. “He can talk for hours about Kingdom Hearts or Evanescence. Oh! And spiders. He really loves spiders, even if they are abominations who roam the Earth spreading nothing but misery and despair and should all be annihilated by way of fire.”

“Patton . . . are you okay?”

“I’ve seen things.”

“Patton, serve’s up,” Roman calls for his attention.

He snaps out of the haunted stare he’d been giving Logan. “Right! Go ahead!”

The score becomes ten to six. Virgil needs one more point to win, according to the rules. They’re both panting lightly after their exertions.

“It’s not too late to forfeit,” Roman goads him.

Virgil’s eyes gleam in amusement. “Aw, it’s cute that you still think you have a chance.”

He tosses the ball into the air and smacks it down with unrelenting force. Roman, still in his banter mode, is unprepared and doesn’t have time to raise his paddles. The ball goes right for his face and he falls flat on his butt.

“Game, set, and match.” Virgil drops the paddle like a mic.

Everyone startles when Roman leaps to his feet, the ping pong ball clenched between his teeth.

“A-hah!” Roman grunts victoriously.

“What the fuck, dude,” Virgil says, one eye squinted and the other wide.

“Did you catch that with your mouth?” Patton asks in awe.

Roman stands tall, fists on hips, bellows of laughter seeping around the ping pong.

“Even I must admit that’s impressive,” Logan acknowledges. “But you do realize that you still lost for failing to keep the ball in play?”

His pride-struck expression falls. Roman goes to argue, but in his rush he accidentally chokes on the ball.

“Spit it out, you moron!” Virgil practically vaults over the table, he’s there so fast beating on Roman’s back. Roman’s hands clutch desperately at his throat, pupils blown wide in fear. Patton’s there in an instant but isn’t sure what to do.

Logan does the only logical thing and punches Roman in the gut.

The little white ball dislodges and pops out of his mouth. It soars through the air to bounce sadly away. Roman coughs repeatedly, face red and eyes watering as Virgil and Patton hold him up.

“Are you okay? Can you breathe okay?” Patton asks frantically. He pats at Roman’s back to help him along. Roman nods through his coughing.

Virgil runs his hands through his hair and blows out a heavy gust of air. “Holy shit, I cannot believe that just happened.”

“Now what have we learned today, kiddos?” Patton asks sternly.

“Just punch away all of your problems,” Virgil answers.

Patton is not amused and Virgil giggles, borderline hysterical.

Roman gets his breathing under control. He stands up straighter, wiping the spittle away from his mouth. He looks at Logan in a whole new light.

“You saved my life,” Roman rasps.

“I didn’t mean to,” Logan automatically responds. His fist is still raised and slightly shaking. “I know the Heimlich maneuver would have been a better method . . . but I just—my body acted without thinking. I apologize, Roman—”

Without warning, Roman sweeps him up in a hug. Logan is very, very not okay with this.

“Awww,” Patton cooes.

“Roman, please, my feet are meant to be on the floor.”

“You brought me back from the brink of death,” Roman sniffles, far too emotional for Logan’s tastes.

Logan stops squirming and accepts his fate (Roman’s biceps have to be made with steel). “Is this that bonding thing I’ve heard about?”

“Shhh, just accept it.”

“It burns.”

“That’s the bond setting in.”

“I think I’m allergic.”

“Maybe we should move on to something a little less exciting?” Patton suggests. “We’re having a little too much of a ball in here.”

“I’m never playing ping pong again,” Virgil swears.

“Movies then?”

“Yes please.”

A/N: Alternate scene, because I almost had Patton be the one to punch Roman in the stomach.

Patton’s there in an instant, fist pummeling into Roman’s mid-section. He heaves up the ball and nearly his lunch.

Patton stands proud and blows off imaginary dust from his fist. “Works every time.”

“Patton,” Roman gets out between wheezes and coughs. “You beautiful man . . . I hate you.”

Patton just pats Roman on the head.

“I’m sorry, I think I need to just--” Virgil cuts himself off by lying down on the ground to stare up at the ceiling. Logan is half-inclined to join him.

Patton lets out a laugh. “Nothing like a near-death experience to get the ole blood pumper going, am I right?”

Both Roman and Virgil flip him the bird.

“You’re doing the ‘I love you’ hand sign wrong, kiddos. It’s three fingers, not one.”

Logan crouches down beside Virgil. “Do you think you could teach me how to play ping pong once you’re emotionally stable?”

Logan wants to learn.

For scientific reasons of course.

Not because he wants to beat Roman into the ground or anything.

General Tag List:  @spectralheartt @a-pastel-pan @notalwaysthevillian @rose-gold-roman @ijustrealizedhowdumbmynamewas @katie-the-noble-fangirl @yourroyalydramaticanxiousness @aroundofapplesauce @merlybird500 @beach-fan @jemthebookworm @whats-going-on-kiddos @randomsandersides @gamerfreddie @unring-this-bell @that-royal-ravenclaw @analogicallythinking @lilygold23 @punsterterry @naw2702 @levy-the-b00kw0rm @iolanomsgranola @tacohippy56900 @lottavic @camariechris

Kid Logan au list:  @under-the-blue-moonlight @broadwaytheanimatedseries @just-fic-me-up @joyful-milkshake-observation @absolutesandersidestrash @midnightmagi @justcallmepancake @justanotherpurplebutterfly @aamikan @nerd-in-space @thestrangedino @deathshadowrules @entitydark @vintage-squid @max-is-tired @theitalianalchemist @deceitfullyanxiousprince @thesynysterunknown @skullfire2004 @shai-uwu @teacupfulofstarshine @the5thcoy

[zachsreaderinserts]

Taking a Stand

ship: platonic!bbs x male!reader

dialogue prompt: "No! I'm tired of doing what you tell me!"

warnings: abusive relationship, high school au, i poured my heart and soul into this, it felt really nice to write something like this

"Good morning, gamers," I mumbled, walking to our table in the cafeteria. My friends simply said their greetings back or just nodded at me, looking just as tired as I was.

Mondays were always hard on us, especially since we all were trying to keep up with our channels on the weekends. We all probably had a few hours of decent rest.

"Is everyone gonna be ready to upload our Prop Hunt video tonight?" Craig asked, pulling out the Uno cards. It was a tradition for us to play before school started.

"Yeah," Tyler muttered.

"Yup," Evan replied.

"I think so. I haven't had the chance to edit it yet." Brock gave me a look, that was between concerned and confused.

"You're usually the first one to finish editing out of all of us." I yawned, tears pricking my eyes.

"Angel called me last night. She was ranting and told me not to hang up, so I couldn't get to it." I missed the eye rolls and the silent scoffs that were passed around the group.

"You could've told her you had something to do." Marcel pointed out as the game had begun.

"She wouldn't be happy about it. I don't like upsetting her." I placed down the first card, nudging Brian to place his next. "I'll try to get it done before dinner."

"There's no pressure, L/n. Take your time." Jonathan reassured me, giving me a soft smile. His smile quickly melted away and before I could ask why tan arms wrapped around my shoulders.

"Y/n!" Angel, my girlfriend of one month, exclaimed. She pecked my lips, smiling happily. "Good morning, baby."

"Mornin', Ang." Looking back down at the table, I noticed it was my turn again and a plus two was laid before me. "Oh, you motherfuckers!" Everyone laughed as I pulled two cards from the deck.

"Don't curse, Y/n." Angel lightly patted my shoulder, giving me an admonishing frown. "It's just a game."

"Sorry, babe. It's just that my friends," I threw out a mock glare, "are little shits."

"I was wondering if you could walk me to my locker." I glanced over at my friends before looking at her. "Please, Y/n!"

"I really want to finish this game." I tried to reason, looking in the green eyes of my lover. "Can you wait until the second bell?"

"Y/n, I want to get there before Samantha and April do so we can catch up on some stuff." Seeing that I was still hesitating, she frowned again. "I bet Raymond would walk me to my locker." I turned back around, trying to hide my hurt expression.

"Yeah, I'll walk you." She clapped in excitement as I set my cards down. "See y'all at lunch." I tried to put on a smile, but it felt forced more than anything. Angel wrapped her hand around mine, leading me away from my friends.

Lately, I've been becoming less happy with Angel. She would give me little bits of an insult, leaving me to wonder if she meant it or not. And whenever I wouldn't let her have her way, she would just grow cold and serious.

But, I still liked her. She meant a lot to me. So, I took everything with stride.

My friends, on the other hand, didn't. Back at the table, all of them grew frustrated and angry with our relationship.

"I fucking hate her," Tyler growled, slamming down a blue card onto the deck.

"Join the club." Marcel sneered, glaring as Angel and I disappeared around the corner. "What does he see in her?"

"Maybe he's just staying for the sex." David pointed out, cursing quietly as a plus four was placed down.

"Y/n's too insecure for sex." Brian countered, crossing his arms. "Remember what happened when he had his fall out with Kyle? The whole reason it started was because Y/n refused to fuck him."

"Whatever it is, I hope it's good enough to justify her shitty behavior." Lui cut in, leaning against Evan. "Though, I doubt there's anything that really can justify it."

"We just gotta trust Y/n for now, guys." Brock sent everyone a reassuring glance. "I'm sure he knows what's best for him."

---

"Happy Valentine's Day!" I cheered, carrying an assortment of flowers and chocolates to my friends.

"Whoa!"

"Chocolate!"

"Holy shit!"

"Oh my God!" Various noises of surprise came from them as I placed the stash on the table, grinning proudly.

"Let me hand them out first, children." They went quiet as I started passing around gift cards with a gift attached.

For Evan, I stayed true to his simplistic nature and got him a bouquet of various red flowers. Jonathan received a chocolate box full of bear shaped candies. I got Lui and Brock assorted flowers, which were in almost every shade of the rainbow. Brian and Craig got Starbucks gift cards while I got David and Marcel Visa gift cards.

The last gift was for Tyler, but it was hidden in a plain, black box.

"Okay, open that one under the table." He did as I said and once he opened it, he started laughing loudly. I started laughing at his reaction, slapping the table.

"Y/n, you didn't!" He pulled out a blue dildo, about the size of his forearm. Brock quickly rushed to hide it, laughing along with the rest of us.

After the short laughing fit, they began to read the cards I gave them, either tearing up or smiling at my genuine messages.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Y/n!" Angel gave me a kiss on the mouth, which made me flustered.

"Ah, Angel! Not in front of the guys!" She pulled back, looking dejected. "Sorry, but you know I don't like kissing in front of other people."

"But it's Valentine's Day!" She pressed, slowly getting visibly angry with me. "Shouldn't we be making out all day?"

"I'm just not comfortable with it." She gave me a glare and I sighed, getting sad. "Sorry, Angel."

"No... Don't be. Just-- Did you get me anything?" I lit up, seeing the opportunity to cheer her up.

"Actually, yeah! It's at my house right now, so if you wanna come over later--"

"You mean to tell me that you don't have a gift to give me during the school day?" I shut my mouth, looking at her in confusion. The table around us went silent.

"Is that 'boyfriend protocol' or something?" She huffed frustratedly, taking a step back and crossing her arms.

"Uh, yes! How am I gonna show everyone how good of a boyfriend you are if you don't have a gift during school hours?"

"I don't think you'd need to flaunt around how good of a boyfriend I am if you already know it." I shrugged, trying to keep the tears at bay. "I'm no genius or anything, but I think I'm a very good boyfriend."

"Nevermind, Y/n. I'm going to class." She hissed, storming off. I clenched my fists, trying not to cry in front of my friends.

"Don't listen to her, Y/n." Lui comforted, leading me back to the table. "She's probably on her period or something."

"I made her a painting of us. I worked hard on it and everything." My voice cracked as I folded my arms and laid my head down on them. "I thought she would appreciate it."

"I don't think you guys should keep dating." Evan rubbed my back while talking to me. "You both clearly aren't happy in this situation."

"No, no. I'll figure it out. I really want to keep dating her." I looked at him with a teary face. "I'm sorry for crying."

"Hey, don't be." David came over, sitting next to me. "Why are you saying sorry?"

"Are you fucking crying right now? That's for babies, Y/n! I'm not gonna date a man who cries like a damn baby after an argument." Angel ranted, pointing at my face.

"I have no clue." I lied, rubbing my eyes harshly.

---

y/ntheactualgod has logged onto: what's jon's sexuality??

y/ntheactualgod: DHSJSK WHO CHANGED THE GROUPCHAT NAME

miniladd: IT WAS ME

h20delirious:

FUCK ALL OF YOU

h20delirious changed the chat name to: craig has a micropenis

y/ntheactualgod: and i oop

iamwildcat: y/n if you say "and i oop" one more time i'm going to freak the fuck out

y/ntheactualgod: A N D I OOP

moosnuckel: now you gotta beat them up tyler you said it yourself

iamwildcat: i'm gonna kick your ass as soon as we get to school tomorrow

y/ntheactualgod: do it pussy

vanossgaming: can i record it for my channel?

basicallyidowrk: they're gonna be the next logan paul and ksi

thegamingterroriser: but who's who?

y/ntheactualgod: call dibs on being ksi

iamwildcat: call dibs on being ksi F U CK I DON'T WANNA BE LOGAN PAUL

daithidenogla: sucks to suck

y/ntheactualgod: hold on, angel's messaging me

---

angelbabycakes: Y/N Y/N Y/N

y/ntheactualgod: what's up sugar

angelbabycakes: can i come over?

y/ntheactualgod: to hang out at like 2 AM?

angelbabycakes: not to hang out silly i wanna take our relationship to the next level

---

I felt my heart stop in my chest as I read over what she sent me.

---

y/ntheactualgod: oh. um, hold on

---

y/ntheactualgod: ANGEL WANTS TO HAVE SEX WITH ME WHAT DO I DO?????

basicallyidowrk: SEND US A SCREENSHOT

y/ntheactualgod: unknown.png

h20delirious: oh my god

luicalibre: do u wanna have sex with her?

y/ntheactualgod: uhhhhh not really if i'm being honest ITS NOT THAT I DONT LIKE HER I LOVE ANGEL BUT IM NOT READY FOR SEX

miniladd: that's fine y/n! nothing to be worried about. just tell her how you feel

---

y/ntheactualgod: im sorry angel, but im not ready for that yet

angelbabycakes: look out ur window :)

---

"She didn't," I whispered in horror, rushing to go peek out the window. In my backyard stood my girlfriend of three months, who smiled up at me. I saw her put her phone to her ear and my phone lit up with a call from her. Answering it with shaky hands, I looked down at her through the window.

"Hey, baby! Can you let me in?"

"Angel, I love you a lot, but I can't do this." My voice trembled with anxiety as I saw her face be pulled into a frown. "I'm so sorry, honey, but I just can't have sex with anyone right now."

"Why not! I've been dating your sorry ass for three months! The least you could do is make it worth my while!"

"Angel, I--" She let out an enraged yell, picking up one of my lawn chairs and throwing it across my backyard. I watched in horror as she practically messed up my backyard. "Angel, please stop!"

"I'm tired of dating your wimpy ass! I don't deserve to be with such an ungrateful boyfriend." And she hung up on me, storming out of my yard. My hands were shaking so hard, I dropped my phone. Sinking to the floor, I stuck my head into my knees and started sobbing.

Was I crying of fear or heartbreak? I couldn't even tell.

---

"Good morning, Y/n!" I yelped loudly as David clapped his hand on my shoulder. He pulled his hand away, looking at me concerned.

"Oh, hey David." My voice was scratchy from a lack of sleep, but I didn't let it stop me from talking. "Sorry, you just scared me."

"I'm sorry. You look like you just saw a ghost." As we walked over to the lunch table, I kept my eyes open for Angel, becoming more paranoid the further in we walked. "Where were you this morning?"

This morning was really rough for me. I decided to skip out on sitting with my friends to hide in the bathroom, out of fear that Angel would confront me about last night.

"I had a long night. Woke up late." I lied, weakly smiling up at my friend. "Hope you guys were worried about me."

"We kinda were. Especially after what happened earlier this morning." I looked away from David, seeing that we were nearing the lunch table.

"I'm fine," I reassured to him, rushing to go sit down. I missed the unconvinced look on his face as he walked after me. "Hey, guys."

"Y/n! Where've you been?" Evan called out, grinning as I sat between him and Craig.

"Late morning," I responded, pulling out a cup of jello from my lunchbox. "Who won Uno today?"

"Lui did. He was totally cheating, though." Tyler complained, making me smile genuinely. I felt myself relax a little around them as I opened up the cup.

"You're a winner in my heart, Ty--"

"Y/n!" I couldn't help but jump harshly as Angel called out my name. I managed to squeeze all the jello out of the cup and all over my hand. Angel's tan arms wrapped around my shoulders and she moved to peck my cheek. "I didn't see you this morning."

Was she choosing to forget about what had happened?

"Uh... I woke up late." I stuttered, looking at my now ruined jello. "Sorry."

"You should really be more responsible, Y/n." As she picked her hand up to move a piece of my hair, I couldn't help the tiny flinch. Luckily she didn't notice. "You wanna come over later to watch some Netflix?" She gave me a look similar to the one she wore last night when she first stood in my backyard, letting me know what she was implying.

"I'm sorry, Angel, but I got--"

"Let me guess. Homework? A recording session? Friends coming over?" She took her arms away from my shoulders, giving me a harsh glare. "You never have time for me."

"Angel, not here," I whispered, looking at the eyes of my friends watching us talk.

"Don't give me that BS, L/n! You don't care about me anymore!" She stood up to her full height, putting her hands on her hips. "Don't talk to me unless you wanna apologize." And she stomped away again, leaving me behind with an empty cup of jello and a hand covered in it.

"I'll be right back," I muttered, scared that I was going to start crying in front of the whole cafeteria. I speed-walked to the nearest bathroom and locked myself in a stall. I let the tears slip down my cheeks and silently cried my heart out. My jello covered hand stained my shirt, but at the time, I didn't really care.

"Y/n? Are you in here?" I went silent, hoping that Brock would go away. "Y/n, I can see you sitting in there."

"Go away." My voice broke midsentence as Brock's footsteps came closer to my stall.

"Y/n, we just wanna help you." Jonathan came over as well. "Please come out."

"I-- I can't!" I yelled, feeling broken. "I'm trying so hard to make her happy and she just can't accept it! I've been letting her do as she pleases and it feels like she doesn't even listen to me. I don't want to cuddle with her and then she stops talking to me! I don't give her a gift during Valentine's Day at school and she yells at me! I say I don't want to have sex with her and she proceeds to trash my backyard! I'm so tired of not being enough!" I was gasping for air near the end, recognizing that I was starting to have another anxiety attack. I quickly unlocked the door and smashed into the nearest person's chest, sobbing heavily. They wrapped their arms around me, swaying back and forth as I let out month's worth of tears.

"We're here, Y/n. We've got you." Brian whispered. I felt another pair of arms wrap around us and soon, everyone joined in on the hug.

And for the first time in months, I felt safe and secure.

Once my crying had dialed down, we all separated. I wiped my face with my sleeve, trying to remove any remnants of tears.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop saying you're sorry for crying. There's no reason for you to say sorry when you're this mentally torn about something." Craig gave me a stern glare, holding me by the shoulders. "Why do you say sorry every time you cry?"

"I... I've been told that crying is considered being babyish." Evan huffed, rolling his eyes at me.

"So what? Showing emotions isn't being a baby. It's being genuine. If you hide your emotions, then you're just equivalent to a robot. You should be happy that you can express yourself so well. As cool as it would be to be a robot, I think it would get pretty boring." I smiled a little, sniffing.

"You think?"

"He's right, Y/n. Craig's expressive, but he lifts like a damn champion. And Tyler screams like a preteen, but he's just as strong as anyone else."

"Hey!" We all laughed at that.

"The point is is that you shouldn't feel bad for being emotional. It's a part of who you are." I nodded, feeling confident in myself. "Now, if I were to guess correctly, I'm assuming Angel told you that." My smile quickly changed to a frown.

"How'd you know?" I asked Marcel, to which Jonathan snorted at me.

"Your girlfriend's a douchebag, Y/n. I'm sorry, but it's the Gospel Truth." I just sighed, leaning against the wall.

"I know. But I love her." Brock grabbed my face gently, making me look in his eyes.

"Think of every moment you had with her that was happy." I looked up, trying to recall every moment.

When I asked her out. Our first date. The day we went on a road trip. Her aunt's wedding. My birthday.

"Now think of every moment that you weren't happy with her."

Our first fight. Meeting my parents. Valentine's Day. LAST NIGHT. NOT EVEN TWO MINUTES AGO--

"I have to go," I muttered, a sense of urgency and determination running through me. I slinked past everyone, rushing out of the bathroom and to the lunch room. They all followed me as I walked over to Angel's lunch table, where she turned to face me.

"Are you here to apologize?" I didn't even get to open my mouth when she spoke. "Well, too bad. I'm still angry--"

"No! I'm tired of doing what you tell me!" I cut her off, balling up my fists. "Last night, you trashed my backyard because I wouldn't fuck you! And you just yelled at me for saying no to hanging out after school. I've been doing everything for you when you wouldn't even do half of it for me!" The cafeteria went silent as I was speaking, watching us argue. And for once, I didn't care who saw me.

"How dare you, Y/n! I fucking love you!" She started tearing up, fake tears to get sympathy from me. "You're going to break up with me?!"

"Uh, yeah? Was that not clear?!" She closed her mouth, shocked by my rage. "If you fucking loved me then you would've respected the fact that I didn't want sex! You would've accepted my gift during Valentine's Day and you would've respected my wishes throughout the year of me saying no! But you didn't. Instead, you manipulated me continuously with no hesitation and it's because you can't seem to get in your tiny brain that not everyone owes you anything!" Tears leaked from my eyes, but this time, I didn't care who saw. "I'm done, Angel. I want everything I ever gave you back."

"You can't do that!" She grabbed my wrist, looking into my eyes. "Y/n, I love you!"

I looked down at my now ex-girlfriend, ripping my hand away from her.

"No, you don't." And with that, I left her behind, once and for all.

As I exited the cafeteria, I watched Lui come up and clap me on the shoulder, smiling at me.

"You did good, Y/n." I smiled. And it felt really great as a whole new feeling blossomed in my chest.

"Yeah. I did, huh?" Freedom. That's what this was. Freedom from months of torture. I wiped away tears, not feeling ashamed for shedding them. "You guys wanna go ditch for some Hardee's?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Alright!"

"Yes!"

"Sure."

"Cool!"

"I'm down."

"I call shotgun!"

"I'm taking my car!" As the others rushed out, Craig stayed behind, turning to look at me.

"Are you okay?" Linking our arms together, I sighed happily.

"I'm feeling great."

[gasoline-and-matches-story]

Gasoline and Matches--Chapter One

Author’s notes: Greetings, lovelies--Spirit here bringing some original content for once. I’ve been working on this story for a long time, started it in high school with my friend @tiltingplanet. I hope you all enjoy the first chapter, any feedback would be lovely.

Chapter One

“I swear to fucking god--I am not skinny dipping in a random cave pool with you assholes.”

Yomi winced at the overly loud voice of her fellow classmate, pressing her back to a cave wall while everyone bickered. The tucked away corner of stone was her only solace--Hard, cold despite the sticky heat that came with a summer day. Of all the things she could have done with her Saturday, this was by far the most reckless. Idiotic. Completely out of character for the white and black-haired girl. Not one for parties or celebrations of any kind, yet here she was on private property in the middle of that god damn night. Trespassing in an abandoned cave system with seven other rowdy teenagers, trying her best to sit and not be noticed while a small bonfire flickered orange hues onto the cave walls in tantalizing patterns. As if the evening wasn’t hot enough.

To be fair, she didn’t consider herself close to any one of these people, minus Bethany--the girl who dragged Yomi to the party in the first place. A beautiful, bubbly female with dark skin and a personality that stretched on for miles. Saying no to such perseverance was impossible for Yomi, who wasn't the most assertive to begin with. One thing lead to another, someone mentioning the caves and a bonfire before piling eight troublemakers into a minivan. Yomi was, literally and figuratively, dragged into the situation. To say she went kicking and screaming was heavily exaggerated, but boy it sure felt like it. Beth was way too aggressive for her own good, and Yomi considered herself a push-over despite all the rules she set to make sure these kinds of situations didn’t happen.

Should have stayed home. Shouldn’t have come out here, but...

There was  hesitation, a reluctance that clung to the walls of her skull and refused to let go no matter how much reason was thrown at it. Was it really so wrong to want to try and be a teenager for once? To be out with people her own age, kissing the final year of high school goodbye with something silly and reckless. At least, in this case, she could have done better. They could have chosen a safer, cleaner, less illegal place to kick up her feet. But alas, idiotic minds seemed to think alike in these cases--There were very few voices of reason, and the loudest ones seemed to be those aching to be as reckless as possible.

“Come on, Em,” Jack’s slightly slurred words drew Yomi out of her thoughts, the drunken creature sitting on a rickety arm chair and sipping cheap beer--issue number one? Check. Underage drinking was by far her least favorite part of the evening, “Where’s your sense of adventure? Some hot springs, a little consensual nudity...what could be more fun?”

Jack was a twin, the other member of the set being his sister Ann. Yomi peered between the two as surreptitiously as possible, analyzing the similar shades of blonde hair and green eyes. They were both equally aggravating when it came to starting grievances in school, bouncing off each other like a very bad game of pong. Attractive, but in a similar way to things like poisonous frogs. Bright, shiny, masking jagged edges and toxic skin underneath all the pretty smiles and charismatic exteriors. Yomi knew well enough not to get close, but they were friends with Beth as well.

Jack was addressing Emma, one of the other girls Yomi knew was as reluctant to be there as she was. Voice of reason number one--Closer to the fire, sitting cross-legged on a thin blanket as she tried to ignore the men imploring her to go. She was the definition of tall and curvaceous, the flickering fire light casting shadows over her form from head to toe. Yomi almost rolled her eyes at the men frothing at the mouth--judging by Emma’s figure, their flimsy excuses were pretty obviously hiding their real reason for wanting her to come.

Emma was not oblivious.

“Eat shit and drown,” She held up her middle finger at Jack, shoving his face away when he tried to make pleading eyes, “I have to drive you dumb fucks home later. I’m not letting anyone into my car while wet, and if any of you try its an automatic pass to walking home.”

The caves weren’t an extreme distance from the small town they all lived in, but it was far enough that most of the fire-side listeners actively winced. 

Jack practically whined, those green eyes wide and pleading as he implored, “This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Em…! Why would you wanna pass up on the healing experience?”

“You and I have very differing opinions on what is considered healing,” Emma retorted, sipping a bottle of soda and turning in a different direction, “I’m not here to dip into some glorified, stanky cave water. But by all means don’t let me stop you, Jackie. Just be prepared for the consequences of walking home on the interstate and explaining to the police chief why you’re out so late and dripping wet to boot.”

Several groans rang out, Jack flopping back in that chair and pouting like a sulking child. Drinking, as expected, turned the teen into the equivalent of a drunken toddler. Yomi still found herself sighed internally with relief, letting that curtain of hair fall forward to shield her face a bit. There were currently more girls than boys, so their dumb idea was overruled for the most part. But...she doubted that would be the case for long, not with a certain someone growing more and more intrigued with each passing second and gulps of alcohol. Bethany was the only one way too on board for her own good, eyes sparkling at the notion of even seeing a hot spring and spending time with the boys in general. She was such a smart girl, exceeding incredibly well in class and reaching top marks despite all the chaos she included herself in.

She just craved excitement far too much, compared to the girl she dragged along with her.

It seemed way too dangerous in Yomi’s opinion, especially considering these caves were abandoned for a reason. Mind you, they weren’t too far in. There was a large hole in the ceiling showing the night sky, venting the smoke so they wouldn’t spend the evening coughing and hacking. But the cave system further down had to be treacherous, carved out long ago by either flooding or miners, she wasn’t sure on the details to be completely honest. Each member of the town seemed to have their own take on just how the cave system got there. And with someone in the group walking with crutches, there was no way their desired spelunking adventure should come to pass, right?

Yomi looked at the girl in question, peering through the safety of her black and white hair to examine Mira’s face. 

Sitting opposite of her by the fire was the girl in question, seeming lost in thought while the others argued and laughed. She was pretty in an unconventional sort of way, with strong features and red hair cropped short at her shoulders. Out of everyone in the group, Mira being here was the only thing more surprising than Yomi herself--exploring in an abandoned cave system on forearm crutches was a terrible idea. After a car accident in freshman year, Mira had been through a slew of surgeries to fix extensive damage to her legs. It wasn’t perfect, but she could walk with the aid of a cane on occasion, more than that on others.. Out of everyone here, she was another one not drinking, sitting in a lawn chair with her scarred legs stretched out near the fire. Just close enough to warm her skin, the flickering flames casting dancing patterns over the roadmap of surgery marks, of cuts long healed and what had to be extensive pain. 

Strong.

Yomi admired her heavily, Mira had far more guts and determination than she ever could. It took strength to come back from what she endured, and even more so to keep going with an attitude of non-caring. Head held high, chin up, feet moving.

She seemed a tad bit annoyed with the boys as well, pushing her cropped red hair behind her ear and narrowing those emerald green eyes on Jack’s pouting face. He was still bitching, the alcohol making his words a bit sloppy.

“Didn’t take this lot to be a buncha pussies,” He complained, crushing the now-empty beer can against his thigh and tossing it to the side, “Came all this way and y’all won’t even follow through…!”

“Careful, Jack, your hick is showing.” Mira retorted, sipping innocently from a can of soda when he whipped his gaze over to her. She remained unperturbed, as always.

“Saying the word y’all isn’t hick,” There was a frown on his lips, mingled with intense disappointment as those rusty gears that made up his alcohol-soaked brain started to grind in thought, “That’s cowboy shit, right?”

His sister Ann, who was spread over a sheet on the dusty floor, let out a heavy groan at his words and pressed her hands to her face in absolute exasperation. It was very clear who was in ownership of the shared twin brain cell at that moment.

“Jack you are the most humiliating fucking person I have ever met,” She sighed, tone sounding so tired while everyone else cracked up laughing at Jack’s expense, “Cowboys are a southern thing you absolute twat.”

Yomi purposely looked away while the others started cackling, sipping from a can of soda and trying to focus on the sugary contents as a means of avoiding laughter herself. Jack was never the brightest bulb in the pack, and cheap beer made it all worse. Underage drinking was never a good idea, and the quiet girl hated it with a passion, so this was just proving every point she had created for herself. Bad behavior? Check. Enhancing foolish ideas to the point that they seemed like good ones? Check. Turning an already idiotic eighteen year old into a god damn man child? Two checks and a very exasperated Yomi there to write them in.

Jack puffed up like an angry cat, glaring daggers at his sister as he stammered, “W...well I knew that…! I was just, y’know…”

“Being a dumbass?” Emma provided helpfully, sitting back and leaning all her weight on her arms, “Baby steps, Jackie. You’ll reach the basic level of human intelligence someday.”

Yomi felt like that was heavily unlikely, but she kept her mouth shut, instead fiddling with the trim on her shorts while the group erupted again. There was certainly a lot of drinking going on with Jack, Ann, Beth, and Jake. Ann handled it a lot better than the boys did, but Beth was turning into a giggly sorority girl, which was definitely not a good thing. They were the loudest of the group when it came to laughing and joking, whereas Clark, Emma, and Mira were as calm as Yomi was. At least there were some sane people in the group. 

How much longer was it going to be before she could go home? Beth had lost all interest in her now that she was bouncing off the others, the girl’s choice to drink not sitting well with Yomi. Alcohol as a whole always put the quiet group member on edge, an extra reason why she wanted to be free of these idiots.

They’re not idiots, She reminded herself, shoulders slumping a bit at her own rude line of thinking, They’re being normal teenagers. You’re the odd one here.

Reprimanding herself was the only way to correct her own negativity toward others, so she tried to make it a habit. Yomi also tried to force herself to relax--this was supposed to be fun, right? She was out with kids her age, doing “crimes” and nibbling on fireside food late at night. Trying to look on the bright side of it, to find good in the bad. Given the choice, however, she wished there was less underage drinking involved.

“Now now, kids,” Clark’s baritone voice pulled her out of her musings, looking up to see the dark-skinned male stand up and brush off the dust, “How about we just walk around for a bit? Some basic spelunking, no swimming involved.”

The two other boys perked up at that, practically bouncing in the orange hue of the fire as they stood as well.

“I like that word,” Jake, the other group trouble maker and notoriously horny on main, purred as he slung an arm around Emma and dragged her up unwillingly--someone was going to lose a finger, Jake the best candidate, “Come on now, kitten, let’s go spelunking. Sounds sexy, amiright?”

Em made a visible face of disgust, firmly peeling his arm off of her and gripping to the point of pain. Made obvious by Jake’s yelp of alarm. 

“Call me kitten again, and you’ll be experiencing the joy of my size seven shoes up your ass.” She said in a sugary sweet tone, one that barely veiled the threat she was putting across.

He whined in response, yanking his arm back and rubbing his aching wrist. Everyone else seemed to be standing as well, easily convinced by Clark’s reasonable tone, much to Yomi’s absolute dismay. So much for not  exploring the caves. This was shaping to be an incredibly nerve-wracking evening, the dark tunnels plummeting into the Earth seeming intimidating and empty when she turned to gaze into them. It made the timid girl incredibly nervous, coming to her feet as well and gripping the edges of her blouse with firm fingers. They were already in a place they shouldn’t be, so why add the extra danger to the mix?

 Even Mira, the one who seemed like she shouldn’t be cave diving at all, was now on board. Not wanting to be left out from anything. Yomi contemplated giving her an imploring look, but thought against it. 

“Jake, you would find the word ‘hamper’ sexy. Get over yourself.” With that, the redhead struggled to her feet, limping across the cave with both hands firmly grasping the crutches on her arms. She seemed completely determined, those green eyes sharp and gait suggesting she wouldn’t be swayed in the slightest.

“Mira, hold on! Let me walk with you.” Clark scrambled up, boy scout instincts kicking in to make sure Mira didn’t fall to her doom somewhere. Yomi liked that about Clark-- that he genuinely cared about people. Only problem was that he was a negotiator, trying to find a middle ground for what everyone wanted.

Too bad what Yomi wanted was to go home and be free of this situation. But Clark didn’t know that, especially not with her too nervous to speak up. 

Jake made a face at Mira's back, sounding incredibly immature as he mocked, “Myeh myeh myeh, I'm Mira and have to be sarcastic all the time.”

He blew a raspberry, which was further evidence that not a single male in the group could handle drinking without morphing into a child. Yomi almost rolled her eyes. 

“Grow up, Jake.” Several of the girls said dryly in reply, sounding like a choir of reason in the face of such nonsense. All but Bethany, who was seeming to have a great time now that the spelunking operation was back on board.

This was starting to become tiresome--Yomi would have rather not sit there and listen to the banter that cropped up when Jake got into one of those moods again. Not to mention the fact that staying with Beth would only result in her being sucked into all the horniness they were carrying around. And shockingly enough...someone seemed to notice her exhausted expression before she managed to hide it. Emma had been staring across the cave at Yomi, those stern eyes searching and missing nothing, especially not with her knowing full well that Beth had played a big part in dragging the reluctant new member of the group along.

What Yomi didn’t expect was for her to actually act on it.

“Why don’t you guys go exploring without us?” The woman suggested helpfully to one half of the group, eyeing Mira as she clung to Clark a bit for support and sounding incredibly disapproving of the situation, “I’ll keep an eye on the dumbasses while they look for water, and to prevent any potential cave ins caused by Jake and Jack’s stupidity--”

Cave-ins?

“Hey!” Both boys protested, looking thoroughly chastised--like somehow the idea of them causing trouble was absolutely ludicrous.

“Regardless,” Emma interjected loudly, rolling her eyes at their ranging expressions of insult and annoyance, “I’d rather Yomi and Clarke make sure Mira doesn’t fall in somewhere, you’re the only ones other than me who are sober.”

Clark and Mira seemed surprised to even hear Yomi’s name, turning to look at her with mirrored expressions of shock as if her presence had been lost on them both. It occurred to her that pair had probably not talked to her in school much before, outside asking for help with a question or for borrowing a pencil. Hell, Yomi hadn’t said a word the whole trip minus occasionally mumbling to Beth, replying to her constant questions and cheerful banter as much as she could handle. So those expressions they wore should not be hurtful.

Right?

“Oh, cool, the more the merrier.” Clark said, awkwardly dithering behind Mira as she sought to walk further into the cave. Almost impatiently. The redhead looked eager for adventure, green eyes sparkling in the firelight as she nudged the bigger male’s arm with her forearm crutches.

Am I doing this right? Yomi wondered anxiously, keeping her eyes on Mira like observing the girl would somehow teach her the proper ways to act, Should I be excited instead of worried? Shouldn’t I want to do something risky?

While she fretted, everyone continued on obliviously. Beth had zero complaints with Em’s demands, seeming more than happy to walk around with the other guys in her drunken state. She smiled cheerfully, giving a small finger wave as Emma locked arms with her, “M’kay, we’ll meet back up here, yeah?”

She didn’t wait for Yomi’s response, turning and practically dragging Emma down a branching path. Thank god the more reasonable woman was going with them, to make sure no one did anything stupid. All of it was all too much to bear for someone like Yomi, the drunken state of her fellow classmates a bit too intimidating. She was grateful for that at the very least, they needed one reasonable person to make sure the skinny dipping didn’t happen, and to keep Beth safe and sound from such exasperating indivduals. 

Regardless, she turned when Mira pushed forward eagerly, trailing carefully behind while Clarke shadowed the redhead’s steps.  The heat of the bonfire slowly started to fade as they pushed through the jagged edges of the tunnel entrance, wary not to trip on a few huge rocks and pieces of the cave wall. All the while Yomi was trying to shake her sense of worry, scrambling to figure out just what to say to her two classmates. Why was this so hard? Once upon a time she had friends, close to so many people in elementary school until...well. Things had changed, so much had happened that it sometimes felt like her head was still spinning from the stress of all of it. There was solace in silence, one she had come to rely on far too much.

Luckily...it would not need to be thought about long, because someone took the reigns out of her hesitant hands and spoke. The same someone she had started looking to for any indication on how to be a normal human being. 

“Didn't want to listen to them either?” Mira asked casually as the light began to die away, sloping downwards into darkness and snapping Yomi out of her thoughts, “I don't blame you. The best people have brains in their heads...I think Jake has vodka instead.”

Clark snorted, laughing into his hand. At least he was finding amusement in this. She couldn’t help herself either--Yomi half smiled in agreement, surprised to find comfort in their company now that the more rowdy group members were separated and relieved that the other girl seemed at ease with drawing her into the conversation. Mira had the habit in school of saying the crass version of what everyone was thinking, speaking her mind at all times, but it was somehow...welcome, and accurate. Jake, best known for puking on his SAT thanks to a hangover, absolutely had a skull full of cheap vodka.

“I think you may be right,” Yomi replied, gaze turned away and pulling out her phone to light the path once it occurred to her how low the visibility was getting, “Do you guys think this is a good idea…? Maybe splitting up to go cave diving on abandoned property isn’t...the smartest.”

Mira let out a light laugh at that, leaning heavily on her cane as she replied, “This group isn’t known for their brains. Though I will say,” She gave Yomi a side-long glance, raising one delicate eyebrow at her, “Pretty surprised to see you at this little get-together. You never seemed to be the partying type.”

That made the girl wince, turning away from Mira’s searching eyes. She certainly had the knack for saying exactly what would make one squirm, which was fine when it wasn’t directed at the most nervous one of the group. There was a prolonged silence as Yomi thought over the comment in general, trying to gather the best thing she could say in response. This was the topic of the year, muttered in hallways with curious and skeptical eyes watching her. Why doesn’t Yomi “participate” in anything? Does she think herself to be better than everyone because of her family? To come out to a party such as this after three whole years of keeping to herself, trying desperately to stay under the radar--it was understandable that Mira would be curious.

Others were just too cowardly to ask.

“I...well...I wanted to try.” Yomi murmured in reply, feeling both sets of eyes on her as she stepped down over a lip in the path. She couldn’t remember ever speaking about this to anyone, keeping all the issues locked up tight without burdening another person. But in the dark of the caves, out of her element...something could change, right?

“Just for a day. To try and be... normal.”

Whether or not that made sense was the question, but Yomi didn’t think there would be anything to worry about on that front. They definitely understood what was being put across, there was no doubting that. She realized easily as she turned to watch Clark help Mira down the incline, meeting his now-sympathetic gaze and feeling a bit surprised by the serious expression he wore. It didn’t change much to send him into concerned, big brother mode it would seem. Those dark eyes were gentle in the dim lighting, reflecting the glow of her cell phone with a steady gaze meeting her own

“Is it hard,” He asked hesitantly, like the thought hadn’t entered his head before, “For you to be normal? Or rather...to feel normal.”

Mira pursed her lips, emerald-green eyes also glinting in the light from Yomi’s phone as she waited for the reply.

Yomi let out a light hum in response, meeting Mira’s steady gaze and trying to decipher the emotion there. Something akin to understanding, thoughtful in nature. Since she asked the original question, it felt only right to give such answers to her.

“Might sound  silly, but...it does,” Yomi admitted, feeling strangely at ease while talking to someone like the brash redhead. There was something about her, a silent camaraderie Yomi didn’t understand--maybe due to how much the troubled girl respected and admired her? Strong, steadfast and determined in everything she did. Mira was certainly not the type to judge, nor had she partaken in all the criticizing that went around the school. She simply felt...curious, “It felt easier to just stay quiet and get through school as fast as I could. I...wanted to try and have fun for once.”

Mira snorted, saying exactly what Yomi herself had thought previously in the evening, “Hard to call that shit fun. We could have stayed at Clark’s place, watching anime reruns and covering ourselves in crumbs from the safety of his couch.”

Yomi blinked in response. She had never been to Clark’s house before--the very notion of being able to was somehow strange, a nice change of pace. Her brain created its own images of someplace nice and cozy, domestic in comparison to the big, empty house she lived in on a daily basis. It sounded pleasant.

Mira’s words made their classmate smile, a flash of those pearly whites as he laughed, “You’re just saying that because you like my dog.”

“And what moron wouldn’t?”

Yomi hid her smile at their conversation, trying to instead focus on navigating the narrow path in the dark. It was eerily quiet in the caves besides the echoing words from the other two. No dripping water, no sounds of animals or anything at all. Didn’t caves have bats? Mice? Strange eldritch creatures hungering for their flesh? Her imagination was getting out of control, which needed to be halted before it got worse. The path was starting to widen a bit, the walls looking less craggy and jagged to...smooth? Almost curved at the top like an archway, air drifting in from their backs and overcoming the stagnant smell with the one of crackling firewood. This felt...odd--why was the floor so even, the walls spaced perfectly like the cave had been carved out long ago?

Maybe these were mining caves after all?

Yomi frowned a bit, feeling along the wall and noticing what looked to be something carved into the stone and rock. It was strangely out of place on the crumbling, misshapen tunnel--everything around it had long since been messed up by the earth shifting and changing, but it was only this area that seemed to remain untouched, smooth, undisturbed by nature or anything like that. Yomi probed her fingers further, turning the light on her phone to brighten up what she was feeling for further examination. But that only increaded the confusion, amping up the surprise when she saw first hand what her hands were touching.

Not cracks, not carvings. These markings were different than that, and far more precise.

It looked almost...runic, made up of intricately curved lines and shapes. They reminded her of something she had seen in a video game, or a fantasy movie with witches and wizards. It didn’t look chiseled either--almost like it was burned into the stone with lava or a razor thin torch. That...couldn’t be right though, could it? Was cave dwelling cultists another story told in town when people spoke of the caves? The memory wasn’t exactly there, which was somehow even more concerning. Someone definitely had to take the time to make such strange markings, it was incredibly intricate and beautiful in design. Who could have such dedication, to come into a dark cave and make something no one would ever see?

Yet here they were, seeing them.

This is so unbelievably bizarre.

“What’s wrong?” Clark asked, pulling out his phone as well to shine light on their feet. He took a few steps closer, leaning over Yomi’s shoulder to stare at the marking and letting out a low murmur of, “Wow, that’s strange. Never seen anything like it.”

An understatement to be sure. It was almost ridiculous, like something she would have seen in a movie or storybook.

Mira came up on the other side as well, leaning her weight against the white and black-haired girl without a care in the world. Yomi paused in surprise, not minding the sudden contact, but...it felt weird having people be so close.

“Maybe some dumb devil-worshipping teenagers were down here,” She said dismissively, eyeing the rest of the tunnel with a troubled expression despite her laid-back tone, “Did any of you see a sheep’s carcass on our way down? Candles? Shrines devoted to the dark Lord Satan?”

Clark clicked his tongue disapprovingly, “See now, that’s not funny.”

“I thought it was hilarious,” Mira smirked, shoving his shoulder with one of her crutches, “Lighten up, Superman. Most you have to be scared of down here is Jake’s wandering hands.”

Yomi sighed at their joking, pressing her fingertips to the marks and tracing out one of the more prominent lines. Satan worshipers was one thing, but in a small town like theirs people like that would have been incredibly obvious. Even then, what the hell did they use to get the marks so precise and small? It certainly didn’t  look carved, at least not to her eyes-- more like it was burned into the stone’s surface like a brand. But if there was any scorching, it was not found by her carefully searching eyes in the dark. Something about it felt ominous and strange--the hairs on the back of Yomi’s neck stood up, signalling to her that they should probably just turn back.

Skinny dipping was one thing, finding mysterious symbols in a dark tunnel was definitely outside her final walls of comfort. She had enough spooks for one day, that was for certain.

But when she turned to tell them that, Clark was pressing onward, sliding one hand along the wall and holding up his phone with the other. Mira was following slowly behind, managing fairly well on her forearm crutches and staring at what had now garnered the boy’s attention.

Yomi blinked, eyes widening when she saw more and more symbols lining the walls, different in their patterns and designs and now taking up almost every available space. What the hell was all of this? She quickened her step, keeping half of her focus on Mira to make sure the girl wouldn’t stumble, the other half on the newfound mystery. Marking after marking, curving up toward the ceiling and turning into swirling images as they danced over the curves and stone. Depicting otherworldly creatures, dragons and giant birds in flight as they clashed in the sky. 

They were beautiful, but wasted in a cave such as this.

“Where did these come from…?” Yomi murmured, tracing the patterns with each step and unable to understand any of it, “You would think someone else would have found these markings, but...No one mentioned them, did they?”

She spent a lot of her time observing and listening. Even when news of these caves spread, no one spoke of something such as this.

Clark frowned, his brow furrowing as he lost himself in thought, “Now that you mention it...I was told there was one tunnel system, not two paths. There was rubble around the one we took, the edges more jagged. Maybe this way was opened by a cave in?”

Yomi blanched, taking a very measured step backwards in the direction they entered in. If there had been a collapse before, it could very well happen again. Now that she thought about it, the entry way did have a bit of debris, and Emma had spoken of something like that being possible before herding the drunken members of the group away.

Not safe. We need to go.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Mira huffed, genuine concern on her face now as she mimicked Yomi’s motion and stepped backwards, “If cave-ins are a thing, we need to bounce. Too much danger for my liking.”

That was a hard agreement on Yomi’s part. She already felt uneasy about coming to an abandoned cave in the middle of the woods, especially when it was technically illegal. Mind you, kids had done it before and generally only got a slap on the wrists. But Yomi didn’t particularly want to be arrested, especially considering who she was. If she got arrested, if her step father and mother found out what she was doing…

Bad, very bad.

"Yeah, let's head back. We can go to my house," Clark gave Yomi a welcoming smile, putting a hand around Mira’s arm to hold her steady. "You can come too, if you want--my dog Ruby is a sweetheart, loves everyone. We call her Boobie.”

His words make Yomi pause, a hesitant delight blooming in her chest at how eager he was to try and be kind to her. Clark was known for being the friendly sort, but unlike Bethany he was nowhere near as pushy or forceful about it. A gentle giant, one who respected people’s personal space. Even people in their class who weren’t his friends know that he'd be there if they needed him, and having him extend that same courtesy to her despite the reputation floating around school…

I’m not used to this.

She opened her mouth to reply, trying to formulate some sort of coherent response or maybe ask if it was really alright with them, but something made her focus start to drift.

...What is that sound?

Yomi blinked, ears suddenly hyper-focusing on the cave around them in a brief second of clarity from the racing thoughts. It had been shockingly quiet in this area before, far from the crackling fire and rowdy classmates. No dripping water, no bats, nothing but the echos of their own voices bouncing further into the landscape. But now...something was there, making all three teenagers pause and glance at each other in confusion. It was low, so low that for a second Yomi thought she was imagining it, but it brought a sensation that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, vibrating the bottoms of her feet every so slightly. A humming, like a deep bass was vibrating through the cave and growing in quiet intensity. It was the sort of thing one could feel in their lungs, loud and quiet at the same time.

Mira shot a confused look at Yomi’s face, placing a hand on the wall while her forearm crutch dangled a bit. For whatever reason, it made the other girl mimic her action--the humming sensation felt like it was radiating from the walls, below their feet and rising upwards. Clark was the only one who didn’t seem compelled to touch the cool stone, shining his light down the tunnel with a worried expression on his face. What the hell was that sound? What is going on? So ominous, so...mysterious. Surely not from her fellow classmates, they had nothing that could cause something like this, not the pulsing waves of bass that seemed to vibrate from below.

Break...shatter to pieces. 

Was...that a voice speaking? The white and black-haired girl gasped, turning to look at Mira to see if she heard it too--the answer was a clear yes. Her green eyes met half-way with Yomi’s hazel gaze, filled with quiet alarm and fascination mingled in one. Clark was the only one who didn’t seem to hear it, still looking around with a perplexed gaze at the humming.

Break. Shatter.

Let us in.

I’m tired of waiting--I SAID BREAK.

A crackling sound suddenly range out, making Yomi flinch at the sudden shattering of silence and snapping her gaze to the ground. Bright, it’s bright--what is going on? A burst of light made them all gasp, the marks on the wall lighting up in a flash of purple energy that slithered through every curve, every line and circle all the way up into the ceiling with a searing howl that razed against her ears. It all happened so fast, so suddenly there was no room to react. As it traveled along her palm, Yomi yelped at a flash of heat, falling back and jerking her hand to her chest in unison with Mira. It stung terribly, like pressing against a hot brand under her skin was sizzling from the wound of it.

What the fuck was that?

Both girls stared in shock, Clark putting himself behind them to make sure neither fell onto the floor. Yomi felt her back hit his chest when she reared back, his heartbeat fast and just as alarmed as hers was as he stared in mute shock at the glowing runes all over the walls.

Quick as it came, the light left, traveling up to the images on the ceiling and disappearing in a flash of sizzling violet. Every hair on Yomi’s arms was standing on end, heart pounding in her chest and hand stinging terribly. What was that? What the fuck just happened? The air felt charged, like static electricity and smelled of something...strange, like nothing she had ever encountered before. There was no mistaking that it had happened, all three classmates stood huddled in a state of shock as the humming subsided ever so slightly. Mira breathing heavily, Clark’s hands firm on their shoulders as he held them as steady as he could with shaking fingers.

Something had just happened, something none of them understood.

“Holy shit,” Mira whispered, leaning against Yomi and wincing as she lifted her injured hand. Yomi stared in shock at her palm, seeing the same markings from the wall seared into her flesh--upon looking at her own, the girl was met with the same image. The skin around the wound tingled, charged with an inexplicable energy that made her whole hand uncomfortable, “What the fuck was that? You all saw that, right? I didn’t hallucinate some weird fucking energy burning my hand.”

Yomi shook her head, taking in a shaking breath as she stared at the stinging mass of markings now on her flesh, “N...no...we all saw it…” She turned her gaze to stare down the tunnel, hearing that same humming still radiating ever so slightly further along, “I’ve never seen anything like that...never.”

It had been...frightening, but incredible at the same time. Exhilarating, like an adventure she had never been allowed to have. 

And shockingly enough, Mira was feeling the same way. When Yomi returned her gaze to the red-headed girl, she saw her own excitement echoed there, growing in intensity as she too seemed to registered that they had been apart of something strange, something beyond their realm of understanding. Injured or not, it was outside the normativity of their everyday lives, and that was...was…

I want to understand this. I want to know more.

Clark was the only one who was visibly shaken from the incident, not sharing in their excitement as he stammered, “W...we should probably go...That shit isn’t normal, and you both are burnt…!” He took a step back, watching to make sure Mira had properly adjusted her crutches before pulling out his phone, “I’m gonna call Em and make sure she and the others are alright--let’s get going and tend to your wounds.”

Mira let out a light huff, wincing when she tried to grip the crutch with her injured palm and hanging back as Clark took a few steps in the direction they came from, “Hang on now--Aren’t you even a little curious? The walls were glowing, they burned like fire…!”

The eager redhead slid past Yomi, walking a bit awkwardly now that she was trying not to grip the one half of her crutches. Her gaze was locked on the markings, barely illuminated by her companion’s phone as she moved a bit further down the tunnel. Meanwhile, the more timid member of their group was torn, watching her actions and unconsciously trailing behind. Her brain was screaming at her to go back to safety, to leave before things got even worse--the mark burned into flesh would scar, a permanent reminder of this day, and yet she didn’t care. Mira was excited about what was going on...maybe it meant she could feel that way too? Maybe it was normal to want to understand the unknown.

But Clark wasn’t convinced, the only voice of reason as he turned to look at them a few feet away, “Not a chance--not where our safety is involved…!”

Maybe he’s right. Yomi frowned, still holding her injured hand cupped with the other one. Maybe another day, maybe after talking to the others about what happened? Leaving felt disappointing, but...some things were more important than discovery, right? The need to learn more, the curiosity swirling in her gut was so strong she almost spoke up on Mira’s behalf, pleading with Clark to let them look a little bit further. She was never the type to ask for things, it always felt so selfish. Especially now, with danger thrown into the mix.

How could Yomi possible hope to demand anything if it meant endangering the lives of both the people with her? It was not fair.

She instead returned her gaze to Mira, reading the same unhappiness there that she felt and returning it in kind. Both shared a silent moment of understanding, hazel staring into green, Yomi’s hesitant desires plain and clear on her face. The redhead looked ready to speak, spurned on even more by her classmate’s fellow eagerness.

But it was short lived, Clark’s words punctuated like fate itself was scolding them for their hesitation.

A loud rumble started shaking the cave, all three letting out varying cries of alarm and stumbling on their feet. Loud, everything was so loud--stone rattling, cracking, grinding with the force of the tremors rocking the small space.Yomi heard screams echo from the other side of the cave, bouncing all the way down to their tunnel and signalling that the others were feeling the tremor too--a cave in? Earthquake? There was so much was shaking, like the stone under their feet was shifting back and forth and threatening to make the unsteady girl fall to her knees. Clark tumbled back behind them, his phone clattering onto the floor but barely heard through the chaos surrounding the fearful students.

Yomi instinctively whipped around to look at Mira, reaching out to the girl as she screamed and started to fall in the dark. Everything seemed to move in slow motion for a moment--Yomi reaching, Mira falling, room rumbling...she’s still falling, further than she should. Yomi’s finger’s gripped one of the redhead’s arms, a slow sense of dread and alarm growing when she continued to plummet. Beyond the floor, beyond the--the floor is gone. The realization came too late, the shock snapping through her as it registered why the floor was so dark. It had given way, crumbling into nothingness and sending Mira into a free-fall.

A cave in, ground subsidence, Yomi’s head screamed at her, every warning bell going off as she prepared to hold Mira’s weight, She’s going to fall, she’s going to--

But when she tried to steady her weight, she felt it--a cracking underneath her feet. Yomi scrambled, a cry of alarm lodging in her throat as the cave in shattered more of what once appeared as solid stone. It bottomed out with a loud grinding sound, sending the frantic girls into a plummeting down toward the empty abyss. There was no true way to describe it, the feeling of falling with absolutely no purchase for her hands or feet. She’s going to die--we’re going to die. There was nowhere to grab onto, no footing, no nothing. Just empty space that her free fingers clawed for, eyes locked on their descent and hoping to god that Clarke was far enough away not to be pulled into it. Her palm was flaring in pain where it held Mira’s arm, the girl’s cries loud in her ears over the rushing of blood and adrenaline. 

But she still heard him as they fell, Clark’s scream of fear and horror as more stone collapsed over where they once stood.

“No…! Yomi! Mira…!”

Neither could response. All Yomi could do was cling to the other girl, heart pounding in her ears and a choked cry of terror lodged in her throat as the air rushed past.

As they plummeted into the nothingness.

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[imlovemytrash]

Description - Creepypasta boyfriend scenarios, but with a twist!

Ben Drowned

Rating: PG

You had moved to the small town of Bristol only a week ago. The town had 5,375 people, with a church, a bar and grill, the “school zone”, a grocery store and an old park with one rusty slide, three swings and a sandbox that the local cats used as a litterbox. There were four sets of neighborhoods, too.

You lived in Green Valley, where the middle class dwelled. Your family had enough money to be comfortable, but not quite enough money to just spend recklessly. The house you and your family had moved into was a two-level abode, two bedrooms upstairs, one downstairs. Your parents took the master bedroom in the basement while you and your sister took the two upstairs bedrooms.

Your bedroom was the second largest. Your sister sat on your bed, looking around the room. She seemed jealous that she had gotten the smaller room while you had the larger one.

“Why do you get this bedroom? It’s not even fair. I had the smallest bedroom last time!” She pouted, and you merely shook your head. Your sister was only ten, with you being eight years older.

“It’s because I’m older.”

“It’s not fair!”

“Life isn’t fair, Miranda.” You shot back, raising your brows at her. She merely huffed, crossed her arms over her chest with a look of irritation on her face. Your sister was strong in spirit, and didn’t like taking no for an answer. You two would probably fight over who got the room for the next few weeks.

“That’s what mom says.” Miranda glared at you before literally slamming herself into the bed. You just shake your head and continue to decorate your new room.

Your bed was against the farthest wall running horizontally, with a spacious arching ceiling and a hanging light fixture in the middle. You had moved your dresser upstairs with your dad earlier that afternoon, and now it sat on the left side of the room. You still had to move your desk up, but that would be for tomorrow.

You’re going through a box before something twinkles at you from beneath a bunch of clothes. It’s a picture frame with you and all of your friends from back home. You feel your lip quiver as emotions run rampant through you, and you run your thumb over the glass. You’re going to miss them.

“Girls! There’s a garage sale going on next door! Why don’t you go outside and check it out?” Your mom called from down the stairs, and both you and your sister grumble.

“It’s hot outside!” Miranda groaned, and your mom merely tsked.

“It’s beautiful. You need the sun.”

You see this as an opportunity to get your sister out of your room, and you take it graciously. You set down the picture on the shelf before turning to Miranda, who had the biggest pouting face that you had ever seen.

“C’mon, let’s go. It’ll be fun.” You reason and she sighs out loud, now feeling as if going outside was a mildly better idea instead of sitting inside, complaining over who got what room.

So you and your sister walk downstairs, talk with your mom and then you’re outside in the summer warmth. It wasn’t all that hot, as the last few days had been nothing but rain and more rain. It felt humid, though, and you could feel it pressing against your skin like a tight-fitting shirt. You walk across the street, seeing the neighbor's garage sale set up.

Three tables stood on the driveway. Miranda’s eyes catch on a pile of stuffed animals and she was running over to it. You take your time, meeting your sister as she hugs a Pikachu plushie.

“Y/n! Can you buy me this? Please?” You look down at your sister’s sweet, darling face, and with the power of a god, you respond with a smirk on your face.

“No.”

“What?! Why?!” She dragged, holding onto the plushie even tighter now.

“God, I’m kidding. I’ll get you it.” You reply before looking at the ear of the Pikachu, noticing the tag there. Five bucks, huh? Not bad.

You continue to browse, looking through the things that could possibly interest you. A fairy figurine caught your eye, and you picked it up to reveal an old, beaten up cartridge with Majora scrawled in fat permanent marker. You were well versed in Legend of Zelda, though, and you instantly recognized it with mild interest.

There wasn’t a price tag on it. You looked up to see an old man, sitting in a lawn chair staring at you. You pause, feeling alarm shoot through you before you calmed yourself. He was just a harmless old man with a staring problem. He probably couldn’t even see you without his glasses, and you made your way over to him.

“How much for the game?” You asked, and he merely sniffed at you before glancing at the game.

“You can jus’ take it, girly. I don’ want it anymore.” He said, and you raised a brow. Hey, what can you say? You were glad to take the game off his hands. Your little sister came over then with the Pikachu in hand.

“I’ll take the Pikachu and the fairy, please.”

“Tha’ll be eleven bucks, girly.” You take out your wallet from your back pocket and pay up. You and your sister bid him farewell, and you leave back to your house with the Pikachu, the fairy and the game in hand.

Jeff The Killer

Rating: PG-13 for Alcohol Use

You and your best friend had been preparing this for a week now, and damn it you were excited. Not just excited, but ecstatic that you two would be attending a party and it wasn’t just any party. It was Tricia’s party, and she hosted the best parties north of the equator. At least, that’s what you thought.

You were all decked out. You wore a tight cocktail dress with flats. The outfit was from Goodwill, but you spruced it up and it looked to be an outfit from Gucci. Leah, your best friend, had done all your makeup. You had some experience in makeup, sure, but Leah would never let her best friend with just a bit of eyeliner and mascara.

“Oh, hell to the no!” She had exclaimed before sitting you down in front of the mirror. Now, you two were at the party and having a great time. The music swelled with the bass, the piano and the guitars and the instruments. Then the voice started and you couldn’t help but swoon at the feeling of the rhythm flowing through your every move.

Leah was walking towards you with two red solo cups in her hands. She handed one of them to you before leaning forward to talk over the boom of the song.

“It’s vodka with some fruit! It’s supposed to be super good.” Leah grinned at you, and you couldn’t help but grin right back. Leah was intoxicating, to say the least, and you took a sip of your drink to distract yourself. The alcohol burned your throat and made you cough, and Leah giggled.

“Stir it up a little, silly!” You felt yourself flush as you did so.

For the next few hours, you and your best friend partied your hearts out. You ended up seeing more of your friend group and moved to dance near them. They all greeted you with cheers and grins and laughter as you all drank, danced and partied in unison.

It was one of the most fun times in your life. That was probably the alcohol talking but you had gotten used to the burn, and it was no longer really something you noticed. The taste of the fruit mixed with the alcohol had you seeing stars, and you danced, danced, danced.

Leah was beside you again once a slow song started to a play. A few had already come on, but you had disappeared to the snack line to get a bag of chips, or another drink. This time, though, Leah meant business.

“Dance with me, baby.” Leah slurred, and you couldn’t help but laugh. She was adorable drunk, with her cheeks red and her gaze lidded as she stared up at you. You felt your heart skip a beat as you chugged the rest of your drink down, setting the cup on a table to be forgotten.

Leah’s hands landed on your hips, pulling you in close. You bit on your lip at the sight of her, and then she was sliding her hands to your back until she was hugging you, dancing slowly to the song.

You let out a content giggle as you rested your hands on her shoulders. Leah had always captivated you, and she kept looking at you with those eyes and you couldn’t look away. Then, before you knew it, the song was over and Leah didn’t let go. She held you against her with that sweet, oh-so-drunk smile on her face.

“I love you, Y/n.” Leah announced, and you knew that you would need to get her home in one piece.

“I love you too, Leah. But we need to go home now.”

“No… the party is only… starting!” She protested, and you wiggled out of her hold. But it wasn’t long before your hand was in Leah’s, and you were leading her out to the driveway. You called an Uber, and waited with Leah on the sidewalk for a bit, ignoring a few of the couples making out by the house and in the bushes.

One strangler had come up to them, spoke a few choice words about being “absolutely shit-faced” and proceeding to throw up against a tree before passing out.

“He should be fine, right?” You murmured to Leah, who only giggled in response.

Someone out of the corner of your eye made you look towards the woods beside Tricia’s house. It was black in those woods, with a faint wind rustling the leaves. But something large and white was sticking out among the blackness, which made you raise your brows in confusion.

It was a person, and as you focused on the person you noticed dark red stains on the hoodie. Something was wrong, but you were too drunk to be able to make out what was actually wrong.

Then the Uber had arrived and that was your cue to leave. You ushered Leah into the car before getting in on the other side. As you shut the door, you looked back to see that the man was gone.

The next day you woke up with a raging headache. Leah was still out cold, sleeping on the other side of your queen sized bed. You groaned, getting out of bed to make a pot of coffee. It took you at least a half hour to make coffee, take a shower and pop four pills of pain-killer, and even then Leah remained asleep.

Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt.

You could hear your phone vibrating on the dresser. You don’t remember putting it there. But then again you don’t remember a whole lot about what happened last night once you arrived in your dorm with Leah.

You unlocked your phone before scrolling through the texts.

Have you heard from Jerry? I can’t find him.

Did you hear? Jerry went missing.

Yo, check out the news.

You furrowed your brows together before pulling up the news website on your phone, but once you did you felt your stomach drop.

Jerry Figgins reported missing last night after a frat party gone wrong. Multiple stabbed, one dead, one missing. If you have any information on what happened, please contact the Renbold City Police.

You felt yourself beginning to remember the party. The songs, the dancing, the drinks. But you never remember anyone being stabbed, or killed, for that matter.

But you did remember that man in the woods with blood on the hoodie. You instantly felt apprehensive, frightened before you dialed the police station and you told them you saw a figure in the woods.

Slenderman

Rating: PG-13 for drug use

You were a dumb teenager in a forest with a bunch of your dumb teenage friends. It was the summer right before college would start, and you all agreed to camp out right before you all had to go your separate ways. You could feel your heart breaking, piece by piece, as the days went on.

You were going to miss these morons, no matter how dumb they were. You’ve grown up with a lot of them. Clarice popped up in Kindergarten, about a month after the school year had started. She had been out sick with the flu, and at that time most of the kids had already made their friend groups. So you had reached out your tiny, child hand and invited her to become a part of a two-person group: Clarice and Y/n.

Then, in third grade, Quinn and Jacob had joined. They had moved to your little town. Jacob’s parents had split while Quinn’s mom had passed away and her father could no longer take care of such a large house.

Jae showed up in seventh grade after you had begun your spooky, creepy supernatural phase. Jae had also been in that phase, and when your science teacher had paired you up with Jae you had made an unlikely friendship.

Last but not least was Rowan. Rowan was just Rowan, a nonbinary friend that you had met through a summer camp. Joe was as sweet as they came, and all of your friends loved Joe with all their hearts.

Rowan was also the person in the group that loved to push people to do better things with themselves. Sometimes, though, Joe didn’t have a great meter of what “good” and “bad” was. They always said that “There is no good or bad, it just is, man.” Then Joe would proceed to punch the arm of anyone closest and ask if it felt good or bad.

“So, as preplanned… I brought weed.” Rowan grinned devilishly. They took out a little baggie from their bag as well as a bowl. You couldn’t help but feel a bit cautious. You had never actually gotten high before, except for when you were put under to get a tooth taken out. But that didn’t count, right? But nonetheless, you were nervous about trying an illegal substance, yet so excited that you were breaking the law! How scandalous.

Rowan did their thing with the bowl and weed before grabbing their lighter. They made eye contact with everyone there, making sure that everyone was comfortable as well as ready before explaining how to inhale, keep it in for a few seconds, then letting out the smoke.

“And for fuck’s sake, people, only take two or three puffs or you’ll get sick. Also-” They broke off, reaching right back into their bag to take out a few bottles of water.

“Trust me, guys, water will do wonders. Don’t be afraid to drink it. Now, if you don’t want to smoke that is fine. But just make sure to pass it on, okay? Okay.”

The next hour was just a fest of laughter, the scent of weed strong in the air. Every single one of you had taken a hit, with a few of you taking a two more. You, on the other hand… Well, just like how you were a dumb teenager… You were dumb.

You took six hits when nobody was watching. You don’t notice anything odd until about twenty minutes into the discussion and hoo boy are you feeling the effects. You felt good. A little too good, but good nonetheless.

Everybody seemed so bright and funny, and you couldn’t stop giggling. Everything was funny and you could not stop laughing. Soon enough it became apparent that your dumbass had smoked a little too much pot and Rowan was sitting next to you.

“You’re not supposed to smoke that much, Y/n.” They said softly while Clarice and Jacob talked about aliens beside you. It was all so surreal.

You leaned against your friend, closed your eyes for a moment with a wide grin spread across your face. You sat there for a good while until an annoying buzz began to play through your head. At first, you had just assumed it was the weed playing with you. But then it became persistent with a slight pain ringing through your ears. You moaned pitifully, looking over to Rowan for sympathy.

“My head hurts…” You mumbled, and Rowan chuckled, sliding their fingers through your hair.

“You’ll be okay, Y/n.” They replied, massaging your back as you leaned against them.

You opened your eyes, your gaze set on the woods all around you. It was thick, with leaves and branches and brush and you wondered how your little clown posse had managed to get all the way here. In the distance, though, you noticed an odd sound coming from the trees.

A buzzing sound that rolled through your head like a boulder, hot and heady with no resistance. It was like little shocks being administered to your brain, and it set you apart from yourself. It was like a mini seizure, but only effecting your head.

Then, you blinked for a second and there was something in the woods. You could feel the hairs on the back of your neck begin to stand up as gooseflesh broke out along your arms. You couldn’t stop staring at the thing that stood in the trees. You wondered how you had even noticed it in the first place when you saw its face.

There was no face. It was just a blank slate, completely white and it made you want to run as fast and as far as you could away from that place.

“Rowan… I don’t want to be here.”

“Shh… It’s okay.”

You watched as the thing began to shake its head back and forth, twitching. It was tall, so tall that you could barely tell how tall it was as it touched one of the trees with a long, gaunt hand.

You blinked again, and it was gone. You blinked again, and your eyes remained closed until morning.

Eyeless Jack

Rating: PG

You had never slept soundly like your family and your friends. You tossed and turned and woke up at the faintest sound, like your cat sneaking across the floor, or the quietest wind brushing against your bedroom wall. Melatonin, Ambien, Lunesta, nothing worked. You were exhausted and you wished you knew a way to put yourself to sleep (besides physically knocking yourself out. You had tried that, too, but you just woke up with a raging bruise an hour later).

So every night went the same. You took a hot shower, which was supposed to calm the nerves and make you sleepy. You followed all the Wiki How instructions to sleep to the best of your ability. Then you would typically lay in bed for around an hour, your eyes closed but you never quite reached that spot of pure, unimaginable, blank and unconscious bliss.

You hated it.

You hated it so, so very much. You didn’t have words to describe how much you hated your sleep insomnia, so instead of describing how much you hated it you would get onto your computer and spend your time fucking around on the internet until around 4 in the morning, to which, finally, you would fall asleep.

You sat there, around 3:30 in the morning, watching YouTube and painting your nails. Believe it or not, you had a fascination with colors and being an artist. With the last flick of your wrist, you painted your thumb a vibrant shade of sparkling, glittering blue. You admired your work before your gaze went back to your computer screen.

Every night, right around this time, your mom would wake up to use the bathroom. The sound of the toilet flushing overhead alerted to you that within an hour, you’d be asleep. Exhaustion and relief flooded through you. You wanted desperately to knock yourself out into a comfortable doze, and it seemed as if it was fast approaching.

You teased yourself for the next five minutes, knowing that forcing yourself to stay awake until absolute fatigue would result in you passing out. So you watched the rest of your video, letting your nails dry before shutting your laptop, putting it on the ground and curling up beneath your sheets for a well deserved night of sleep.

Or, just for a few hours before you had to go back to school.

It was slow, so slow, but then you were in that mindless blackness that you so craved.

Until the sound of your door opening hit your ears and you could have practically screamed if the rest of the house was asleep. The sound of footsteps coming into your room had you awake, now, and you could only assume it was your little brother.

You were going to kill him.

“Get the fuck out of my room, John, before I get the fuck up and strangle your stupid little ass for actually fucking WAKING ME UP!” You turned on your light, your face red with rage and your heart beating erratically. Then you turned back to your brother only to not find your brother.

“You’re… not John.” Before you stood a figure, bathed in black with a mask resembling the pigment of your painted nails. The thing stood like a human, but it was much, much more frightening than any old human. A black, tar-like substance dripped from the eye sockets of the blue mask, and you felt absolutely paralyzed.

This has to be sleep apnea. Please. Please please please oh my god please go away you scary thing please. You thought to yourself, but you were able to move your eyes, wiggle your toes and turn on the lamp for fuck’s sake.

The thing only paused, tilting its head to the side as if curious.

“I can’t say that I am John.” It spoke in a deep, raspy voice. It approached you with long steps, and then it was at your bedside. You sat there, staring up at its eyes, or attempting to as there was literally nothing coming out.

Then you started screaming. It was the loudest thing you could think to do, and damn you did it well. You screamed and screamed until the thing’s gloved hand clamped around your mouth. The damage was done, though, and it hissed at you in annoyance and rage. You didn’t care, though. You finally were coming to your senses and you reached up to grab at the creature’s hand and wrist, lurching your body up from the bed to struggle.

Then your father was bursting into your basement bedroom. Your father was a huge man with not an ounce of the word “small” on him. He was a mixture of fat and pure muscle, and nobody wanted to mess with him.

Especially this guy.

Your father was on the creature in an instant, prying it off of you with the strength of a wildebeest. The creature seemed almost as strong, though, but it’s agility and speed to get out of your father’s grasp. It landed on the floor on its legs before stepping back into the wall. The masked thing growled a low, angry growl resounding from the pit of its throat as it prepared to spring.

“Get the fuck out of my house before i-” Your father was interrupted as the thing launched itself at your father. But instead of attacking him, it sprung right over him before sprinting up the stairs. You remained on the bed, shock and anguish beginning to hit you full force.

This motherfucker not only threatened her but also disturbed her delicate sense of sleep.

How fucking dare son of a bitch. He better hope to never see me again. Wait, did I just refer to it as he? Oh, my god. It’s like I gave it a name. I’ll get attached, and then get Stockholm- You passed out.

Masky and Hoodie

Rating: PG; suggestion of alcohol use.

You were nothing but a college student, missing your family, getting a majority of good grades and doing stupid shit on the days you didn’t have class. You were living the college dream, as most people liked to call it. You drank, smoked pot, fucked a little… You were having the time of your life.

You were also a hunter on the side. It wasn’t big or anything. All you did was research creeps around the world and report back to your “boss”. You were quick to pick up details from any recent murders even suspected of having an involvement with creepypastas. You were a hunter, and you had it as your main mission to kill as many of these motherfuckers as you could.

Or, at least, help kill them. You weren’t all that skilled with killing people. Blood made you nauseous.

After a good raging party at the frat house, you were on your way back to the dorm room. You were exhausted and drunk as hell. The dorm’s greeters eyed you up and down before letting you in, but not without saying a few choice words to “Don’t get caught lookin’ like that or you might get into some trouble with the police around here. You smell like whiskey.”

You roll your eyes at the front desk person. “I’m fine.” You snark back before walking into the stairwell and made your way up. Tomorrow morning would be a doozy trying to do anything with the raging hangover that would soon arrive.

“Fuck me, I guess.” You mumble to yourself as you make it back to your dorm room. Your roommate was already fast asleep, and there was a body beside her. You raised a brow before realizing it was his boyfriend.

“Oh, ain’t that adorable.” You grin, taking out your phone to get some good candid shots to show your roommate in the morning. Then you face planted into your bed and passed out at around 2:33 AM.

You woke up at 11 from the sound of your alarm. Your head felt like it was going to split from the amount of pain you were under. At that point all you wanted to do was launch yourself from the roof to end the pain. Fuck you for drinking that much.

Your roommate and his boyfriend were still there. Rylin sat on the bed, an arm wrapped around your roommate, Trent. You looked at them through bleary eyes before remembering the photo you had taken of them.

“Guys… I came back last night and… you two were so fucking cute. I had to take a picture.” You said through the haze of your hangover. God, your head hurt. “Do you have any painkillers by the way?” You asked, yawning as you sat up to get your phone.

You were quick to unlock your phone. Trent shook his head at you.

“Y/n, you know you’re supposed to ask before taking pictures of us. Now show me the damn photo.” Rylin chuckled as you showed them your phone. Trent’s cheeks turned a rosy shade of red before burying his face into Rylin’s neck.

“That is so fucking awful yet so adorable. Why did you have to get me drooling, though?” Trent groaned as Rylin studied the picture.

“You have my number, right, Y/n? Send me that.” He said before his brows raised into his forehead.

“Um… check your text.” Rylin said, and you tilted your head to the side, confused. Your phone hadn’t buzzed or anything. You turned your phone to see a message from an unknown number. It disappeared before you had the chance to read it. “Yeah, I’ll send you it. Hold on, though.” You replied, crossing your legs on your bed as Trent handed you the bottle of painkillers.

“Thanks, man.” You said. You were quick to down four pills. Too bad you’d have to wait for the release. Then you were reading the message, and a surge of unease went through you.

From: Unknown

Message: Hello, Y/n. We’ve heard quite a bit about you. We don’t like that you’re attempting to commit acts against our kind. Expect to see us soon.

You stared at the message in horror before you pulled up your computer to email your boss. This is not good.

[kylie-gets-fit]

New Zealand

Five years ago, I had the chance of a lifetime that opened up a door to many more chances of a lifetime - interning at Disney. One of those chances was meeting my friend, Nola, a Tongan girl from New Zealand. We connected so well while in the states and I promised her one day I would go visit her in her country to experience her culture - well I keep my promises and it took your girl 5 years but I visited her! There were things I will never get to experience again, and sights I’d never get to see again. Let me tell you, it was a once in a lifetime experience - even if I get to go back.

I flew from Los Angeles to New Zealand on Fiji Airways, with a layover in Fiji. Apparently this is moreso of a budget airline for people in Oceania, but I was impressed. My first flight wasn’t the best as I was in a center seat and had an old man not only with his elbow in my seat, but also his foot under the seat in front of mine where my feet should be! After that rough 11 hour journey though, I had window seats for all remaining flights and the flights were so much better! There was music and movies available on the plane (I didn’t know this okay?) and the Fijian people were so nice.Even in the Fiji airport they all greeted me with “Bula!” which is their way of greeting people, much like the Hawaiian “Aloha”. While in that airport I met quite a few people from New Zealand and they were so nice and very helpful. My second flight was to New Zealand where I went through customs for the first time in my life. I don’t know why I was so nervous but it was pretty much a breeze. Just declare anything you have and go through the process.

I’ll discuss the food there since it was the first thing I noticed after leaving the airport - I felt like I hadn’t left America. McDonald’s, Wendy’s, KFC, Carl’s Jr., and soon to be Taco Bell everywhere! My struggle was finding gluten free meals - fries were a huge part of my diet! Nola’s family threw a barbecue and I was thinking since they are islanders there would be a roasted pig and lots of tropical fruit....burgers, wings, sausages, potato salad, and rolls! Their ice cream is so delicious though! I tried kiwi ice cream and it’s way better than it sounds. Their strawberry ice cream also has real strawberries.

One thing I didn’t mind there was how accessible the beach was. We went to three different beaches while I was there and each one was magical in it’s own way. The first beach we visited was Piha Beach and that was my favorite. Let me tell you, I will never see a place more magical. Our drive to the beach was long, and while everyone else was saying, “are we there yet?” I didn’t mind because the drive was gorgeous! There were so many trees and so much green and I don’t see that at home ever!

Once we got there, we parked the most beautiful, green forest and had a walk ahead. I couldn’t believe my eyes at how gorgeous this place was, and I hadn’t even seen half of it yet! Once we got to walking, not only did we get to enjoy the green view, but also a stream that I assumed led to the ocean. I wanted to get a photo in the water with the green in the background so I asked Nola to take a photo. The sand was black and the water was warm! Once we got to the beach, I knew I needed to take in every moment and every little bit that my eyes could see. The green grass and trees behind me, the black sand below me, the heavenly sky above me, and the powerful ocean in front of me. I will never see something that magical ever again and I will never forget!

There were many differences in New Zealand I picked up on that I wish we utilized here in the states. Without getting into politics, guns are outlawed there. I can tell you I always think about the chance of being caught up in a mass shooting in the States. While it is possible for someone to buy a gun black market there, I did not once feel worried while there. People don’t make big scenes there when they don’t get their way. And the most eye opening thing of all was how they take care of one another. We were in a drive thru and there was a man on the side begging for money. Her family began scrambling for coins and together we probably gave him about $5-8. We also went to a restaurant that had a cooler in the front with food in it. When we first walked in I assumed the food was for sale, but as we walked out I saw a sign that read “Free Food for People in Need, One Box Per Person Please”. I wish we had more of that here.

And of course, the reason I went there - to meet Nola’s family and learn about her culture, both Tongan and New Zealand. There were a couple things that I didn’t particularly agree with - like how women are required to keep their legs covered above the knee, but for the most part I saw the beauty in their culture.

They are very emotional people, and I wish that is something the American culture had. What first woke me up to this was visiting the cemetery (yep, we did that). Her family had recently lost her grandmother and unexpectedly, her cousin was violently killed. Instead of staying quiet, these people express what they are feeling - a lot. They talked about it so much, it would normally make me feel uncomfortable. But I realized something. They aren’t having meltdowns, they aren’t crying behind closed doors; wow, this is what it looks like to grieve death in a healthy way. We went to the cemetery after church on Sunday to visit them. How do they visit their deceased loved ones? They keep lawn chairs at their graves, pop down on a seat, and talk to them. About life, about everything. They even introduced me to them. You may think this is strange, but I found it beautiful. They weren’t the only people doing this either. There were people all around of all cultures in New Zealand doing this.

The Tongans are very formal in everything they do. They all get dressed up for church. I was lent a “kiekie”, somewhat like a woven grass skirt, to wear over my dresses for the week.For New Year’s I thought they had found a “kofu” or dress that happened to fit me, but it turned out that Nola’s aunt thought it would fit and said I could have it if it fit! We brought in 2019 in church. Church was spoken in Tongan, so I am not sure what they were saying. Once we left church, we went to Nola’s grandfather’s house where her whole family met to honor him. Everyone crammed into his small living room. At least it looked small with about 30 of us in there! Her grandfather, weak and brittle, started the discussion, getting very emotional. Then they all were speaking in Tongan taking turns to talk. Some were crying, some were laughing. I had no idea what was going on but just enjoying the fact that I got to witness this. The Nola’s sister Tina turned to me and said “would you like to say something?”. I was caught completely off guard. I can’t speak Tongan and had no clue what they were discussing. They all told me I could say anything I wanted regarding the new year. I improved some statement about how I was grateful for them allowing me to attend their family events and being able to bring in the new year learning about their culture. Then her grandfather spoke up. I could tell he was putting in all of his energy to look my way and speak, and he spoke English to me. He told me that he was glad to meet me and hopes to see me again. I fought tears. I had just met this man 10 minutes ago and I’m a no-one in this room of a family, yet he took the time to make me feel not only welcomed, but special.

Not only did I get to experience the Tongan culture, but I gained a family. Not only did I meet the relatives Nola lived with, but I met her extended family as well, as they are all very close. I met cousins on both sides of her family and bonded greatly! They are all funny and had great senses of humor. I asked what the term for white girl was and they told me it was “palagni” and that became my nickname. One night we were playing a game Nola’s sister Lote knew of called Psych, which is basically like Cards Against Humanity except you all get to create and vote for the answers and the subject is one of the players. Naturally they all were roasting each other and it was hilarious. But then they began roasting me. I didn’t even realize they knew me well enough to have anything on me! I said “Wow you guys don’t hold back!” and Tina said, “Yep, welcome to the family!” and we all laughed. At that moment I really did feel accepted and that I was a part of the family. Families aren’t always cordial, sometimes they insult each other, and I got to be included in that as well.

The goodbyes were also very formal. The night before I left, the entire family came into the living room for a family prayer. Her father said his prayer in Tongan and Nola explained that he said he was thankful that I was able to come and they could meet me and prayed for a safe trip back home. Everyone said something about my visit. He also said he was sorry if their home wasn’t nice but it was all they had. Let me tell you what they presented me with. They had a 3 bedroom home and Nola’s sisters were also there for summer break. That means there were 6 of them. THEY GAVE ME MY OWN ROOM. These people were so humble yet so grateful for what they had.Thank goodness I had written out a Thank You card and gotten them a basket of chocolates or I probably would have looked silly with how formal they made this. I really felt loved in this moment. They gave me a Tongan mat as a parting gift and I will treasure it forever. Tina said when people ask me about it I can say it’s from my Tongan side. It was a joke, but she somewhat mean it as well. I came to see Nola and learn about her culture, and I gained a family. Her parents wanted to take a family photo and luckily the instagrammer in the room brought her tripod! The next morning when I was leaving, her mother said her goodbyes and began crying. I met her a week ago. It was incredible how much I bonded with this family. SO MUCH LOVE.

[raisingsupergirl]

What's This? What's This? There's Something in the Air!

It's no secret that Halloween is my favorite holiday. As I sit on my front porch writing this, I'm surrounded by a host of mischievous wraiths, their tattered rags whirling and lashing in the wind. The coming storm has unearthed the musty smell of rotting leaves, and summer's lingering warmth has given way to an electric chill that prickles the hairs on the back of my neck. My neighbors, too, have embraced the holiday spirit, decorating their yards with gravestones and their steps with jack-o-lanterns. The entire effect is one that's difficult to describe but impossible to ignore. And even though it's only halfway through October, my family and I are already neck-deep in fall fun.

Pumpkin patches and fall festivals by day, fire pits and football games by night. An entire weekend devoted to making sure my house was the scariest on the block. My Netflix is now suggesting a constant stream of horror movies, and my daughter's is filled with Scooby-Doo. To be honest, she really doesn't like the "scary man" in our foyer (aka my coat rack covered in a cloak and a mask), but not to worry—she still has time to appreciate the finer points of the season. And as the days grow shorter and the air gets cooler, the anticipation of Halloween galvanizes me, and I start seeing things a little, well… differently.

Take this little guy, for example. I found him on my back porch the first weekend of October. Earlier in the day, my daughter, Avery (three years old), had been talking about the "green guy" she'd fought in the yard. She had won the fight and locked Green Guy under the porch. I chuckled and praised her creativity, so imagine my surprise when Avery saw this mantis at the same time I did and exclaimed, "The green guy's back!"

We examined him closely as I explained what he (or she, but Avery had already named him Green Guy, so who was I to question her expertise?) was, and we noticed that one of his wings was clipped short. I asked Avery if she'd done it, but she said no. Anyway, we let him go on his way, and I thought nothing more of it—until later.

That night as my family snoozed in their beds, I noticed our dog acting strangely in our dining room. She kept peaking into my office, but she never went in. She paced a little, crouched down, but refused to enter. With the spirit of the season upon me, I crept into the office to see what ghoul had caught my pup's attention. So imagine my extreme surprise when I saw this:

Green Guy had infiltrated my home and taken up residence in my office! I didn't recognize him at first, but his half-wing gave him away. After a brief photo shoot to prove the occasion, I evicted the trespasser, but Luna (my dog) didn't seem convinced. She kept searching the office, sniffing out every corner as if expecting Green Guy to reappear at any moment. And to tell you the truth, I half-expected it myself. Especially when Luna locked her gaze onto something and the hair stood up on her back. I slowly turned to where she was looking, my muscles tense and ready to flee, and that's when I saw it…

Luna's reflection!

Okay, maybe ya had to be there, but it was pretty amusing at the time. That moment of near-hysterical relief that comes after a scare. The adrenaline that lingers without any real purpose, so your body releases the pressure through laughter. It's the whole purpose of scary movies and haunted houses, and my house was bringing it to me free of charge. And apparently when a house is over 130 years old, it has more than one trick up its sleeve because the Mystery of the Green Guy was just the beginning for me.

I really should have expected it. I mean, the next weekend was the Harvest Moon after all. And when I came home one night and saw that glowing orange orb shining down on me, I knew I couldn't waste the opportunity. So I threw some wood in the fire pit and put a match to it. After burning off nearly every hair on my right arm, I settled into my lawn chair and enjoyed the evening by the light of the full moon, the flickering flames, and the twinkling purple lights coiled around my porch. But as the moon rose higher and the fire burned into smoldering coals, a feeling awoke within me. Part mischief and part wonder (but mostly childish silliness), I nurtured the feeling until it turned into an idea. It was high time I went exploring!

First, I inspected the alleyway between my garage and fence. Though it did offer an undeniable creep factor, I knew it wasn't what I was looking for, so I took my adventure indoors. Half hoping to find Green Guy, I lurked in the shadows of my expertly decorated home, but I still hadn't found what I was looking for. So I turned to the creepiest place in my house. Mock me if you will, but at the time, crawling around in my cellar was the obvious choice.

To say that my house is supported by rusty pipes and cobwebs may be a bit of a stretch, but not by much. Like I said, it was constructed in 1886, and the hand-hewn beams were crafted without the weight of modern plumbing and electricity in mind, not to mention a century worth of erosion and stomping. So you do the math. Add to that the dirt floors mounded here and there with who knows what (or who) buried underneath, and it only took a couple minutes of cobwebs clinging to my hair and face to convince me that my journey was at an end. Especially when I saw a single leaf resting atop one of the dirt mounds. Not a real leaf, mind you—an artificial one. Of the sort that belongs to those bouquets found on gravestones and the like. Obviously placed in that particular spot in my cellar by some previous occupant.

Yep, that was enough for my imagination to crawl into the deepest parts of every scary story I've ever read, and I promptly high-tailed it back upstairs, took a shower (obviously), and crawled under my covers where the ghosts and ghouls could never find me.

Yes, I realize I'm ridiculous. I understand that I'm a grown adult and everything I've just said has left me sounding like a madman. But I blame Halloween. It's the one time of year when I get to act like a kid again. Childish wonder is hard to come by as I grow older. It's a valued commodity that's looked down upon by those who have forgotten its magic.

Generations past have said that the veil between this world and the next is the thinnest this time of year, but I see it differently. The veil doesn't separate worlds, it separates years. Like all holidays, Halloween fills us with the nostalgia of our first experiences—our first costume, our first scare, our first piece of candy corn. As we age, we learn to set our sights on meaningful things. We learn to contribute to the world, to leave things better than how we found them. But the holidays remind us why we contribute. We leave a legacy of joy and wonder that connects us with all generations before and after us.

So enjoy the season while it's upon us. Do silly things that no self-respecting adult could get away with the rest of the year (unless you blame them on your kids like I do). Maybe you don't have to share them with the world like me (I really don't have any shame), but don't be afraid to laugh at yourself. Life's entirely too short. And as for me, I've just realized that next Friday is the 13th, and I've heard whispers of haunted houses. Sounds like another adventure to me!