tweek123

You sighed, glancing at the girl seated across from you on the bus. You couldn't help but smile as you noticed her cackling with Bebe, her best friend. Her black hair sashayed with every move she made. "(Y/n), you're staring. Dial it back girl." A voice interrupted your thoughts. You jerked your head to the direction of the voice, forgetting you had been sharing a seat with your best friend. Nichole shook her head, giggling at the embarrassed expression on your face. "My bad, sorry. She's just so pretty." You explained, wiping a fake tear from your eye. "I don't know why Mr. Garrison wanted us to go on this laser tag trip, but I hope I'm on Wendy's team." You whispered, glancing at her again. "I know, but you have to let that stuff come naturally, (Y/n). Staring might just scare her off." Nichole advised, wrapping an understanding arm around you. You sighed, resting your head on her shoulder. As much as you hated to admit it, she was right. You couldn't force

Call of the Siren You snickered quietly in the alleyway as you finished your graffiti. Stepping back, you admired the artwork you had put on the side of the building. It was a crudely drawn image of Eric Cartman's fat head. Beside it, you had written, "I'm ugly and I'm proud!". You tucked the can back into your messenger bag, before taking your track-phone out and taking a picture of the masterpiece. "That's what he gets for being an asshole to Butters." You mumbled, smirking as you made sure to send the image into a mass group message. Inside the group messaged contained all the heroes in South Park that you knew of: The Freedom Pals. The two rivaling hero groups had joined forces not too long ago, meaning when one had a problem they all did too. How would this image be a problem to the heroes, one might wonder? Simple, because The Coon was the muse on display: Eric Cartman. You giggled as you watch The Coon's text messages fly across the screen, insulting and

You sheepishly walked into school, adverting the stares you were getting from your fellow peers. You bit your lip as the sound of silence filled your ears. Once existing whispers seemed to dissipate into nothingness the minute you began walking down the hall to your locker. You knew that rumors would spread around the school by the end of the week, but you didn't expect everyone to know by the first day back from the weekend. You walked up to your locker, nose crinkling as you read what written on it. On its dull green surface, there stood the letter "A", in red sharpie. You rolled your eyes, you already knew who had left it on your locker. After all, there was only one person in school you knew had read "The Scarlet Letter", and was petty enough to write on a locker. You opened your locker and placed your books inside, deciding to ignore the graffiti. If she wanted to embarrass you, you weren't going to give her the satisfaction. As you were fixing your things and getting