#ver :: teen ( tweek )

[troublcmakcrs]

▸   @sinshosted​   ⟶   ❛  "I'm so tired. I stayed up all night studying for the math test." //modern!verse ava for hmmmmm either of them :3c  ❜   ╱   (  high school , accepting .  )

      Craig turns toward Ava lethargically and blinks at her, eyelids falling warm and heavy over bleary eyes that were prematurely forced open at the screeching of his alarm clock, as if he is trying to determine whether he is still dreaming.  Once he catches up with the reality that she is speaking to him, he hums in acknowledgment and closes his locker door.  “Me, too,” he says, punctuated by a yawn, which he covers with his hand.

      He studied a little last night, but there came a point where he determined there was nothing more for him to learn and switched on YouTube instead.  He spent entirely too long mindlessly binging Let’s Plays, and he is about to discover the effect that had on his studying.

      He sighs.  “I wish I had some cash to get a Coke from the vending machine or something.  That’d help.”

[asherwritesastory]

Hi there folks! So this is something that I’m choosing to not post on my AO3 page (for now) and instead just posting here.

This is a one shot I wrote for @grymmeoir for the @craigandthoseguys-week secret Santa event. I’m sorry it’s late but the person who originally had you needed to drop out due to some personal issues which lead to me taking over.

I hope you like it as it was literally written in maybe an hour at most (however I’m just guessing on that).

Anyway please enjoy and happy holidays! (story is below the cut)

It was that time of year again. The time of year where snow fell a little harder and everyone seemed to put all their differences aside to come together to celebrate the season.

Yes, it was Christmas time in South Park. And there were a number of ways the townsfolk celebrated this holiday. Some stayed in and some went out and partied. Some participated in snow sports or something outdoorsy activities. And some left town to venture elsewhere to visit family.

However, when it came to Craig and his friends they decided to stay inside where it was warm. Stay inside of Token’s mansion by the fire and drink hot chocolate, wear Christmas sweaters (Clyde insisted they match but Craig shot that idea down just as quickly as it had been presented), exchange gifts and do one of Tweek’s absolute favorite pastimes… bake Christmas cookies!

It was something the group had done for as long as they could remember celebrating the holiday together. But maybe it started happening more frequently after Betsy Donovan passed away and Roger busied himself with work, which left Clyde alone. Maybe it started happening more as they realized that the years they had to spend together during the holiday season were dwindling down as they got closer and closer to high school graduation (they only had two years left!)

But whatever the reason for it was, they had made it into their very own tradition, it was theirs and it was how they celebrated. It was always the Sunday before Christmas when the group got together and they made sure of it.

“Hey Token,” Tweek called out from the kitchen as he rifled around in the cabinets. “Where’s your mixing bowl?”

“Uh…” Token thought for a moment as he grabbed some mugs to behind making the hot chocolate. “I’m pretty sure my mom put it in the cabinet above the stove.”

Tweek looked up, then at the counter, then back up at the cabinet. Sure, he wasn’t the tallest one out there (unlike a certain black haired boyfriend of his) but he could manage to do this on his own without any assistance required.

The blonde hoisted himself up onto the counter top and reached up, being careful not to let anything fall and hit him on the head.

“Do you want he-“

“No no Token I’m fine,” he smiled victoriously as he managed to grab said mixing bowl that was in question. “I’ve got this.”

“Alright man,” he shrugged and watched how Tweek scurried back down. “I trust you. And I’m pretty sure Craig would kill me if anything happened to you so I’m staying put until you’re back on the floor.”

Tweek rolled his eyes as he stood unharmed in front of his front with the mixing bowl now in his hands, “yes mom.”

Token said nothing but the eye roll and friendly push on the shoulder caused Tweek to laugh.

“I’ll stay out of your way while you bake but the hot chocolate shouldn’t take too long to make.”

“Token you’re fine, your kitchen is huge so I really doubt we’ll get in each other’s way!”

They both went to work, busying themselves with the task at hand. They made simple conversation to pass the time before Token found himself finished with what he came into the kitchen to complete.

“I’ll leave your mug here so you can drink it as you work,” Token offered up a smile as he placed the snowman mug near the blonde.

“Thank you!”

Token waited a couple seconds before taking his leave with four mugs on a tray he held in his hands to head back to his other friends.

“Hot chocolate!” It was Clyde who bellowed our first as he darted towards his friend, Damn near giddy with holiday joy. “Thanks Token!” He took his mug enthusiastically and took a long sip.

“Breath Clyde, you need to breath!”

When the brunette lowered the mug he had a very prominent hot chocolate mustache lining his upper lip.

“I don’t know what it is about your hot chocolate,” Clyde licked away the liquid that resides on his face. “But you always make the best I’ve ever tasted! What’s your secret anyway?”

“I use milk instead of water?”

“Genius! Absolute genius!”

“A tr- true madman!” Jimmy chimed in as Token handed him his mug.

Craig merely rolled his eyes and thanked Token by mouthing the words as he accepted the warm mug. He held it in his hands for a while before taking a sip and humming content lot to himself.

“So,” Token sat down on the couch between Jimmy and Clyde. “What did you guys have in mind that we do?”

“I’m not opposed to playing Mario Kart or watching the Grinch,” Clyde spoke up.

“Which Grinch movie?” Craig asked inquisitively. “The 1966 version, the 2000 version or the 2018 version? And make sure you choose wisely since there’s only one right answer.”

“The 2000 version, duh!”

Craig groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, “why?” He shot a glance in Clyde’s direction. “The superior Grinch movie is clearly the original.”

“You take that back Jim Carey is the best!” Clyde seemed offended, like actually offended, by Craig’s statement.

“No he isn’t.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t like him!”

“So what if I am? That movie is still literal garbage.”

Token chucked.

“Bu- but fellas,” Jimmy decided to join in on the conversation. “I personally like the 2018 ver- version be- best.”

“What?” Both the brunette and the black haired teen looked at their friend.

“Why?” Craig asked as Clyde continued to stare wide eyed and in shock.

Jimmy shrugged, “not dissing the original bu- but I like the new ta- take on it.”

“So you agree,” Craig smirked. “You like the original.”

Jimmy nodded.

“See, Jimmy agrees with me! Screw you Clyde!”

Clyde feigned hurt as he put a hand over his heart, “Jimmy! My best friend in the whole world! Why would you betray me like this?”

Craig flipped Clyde off as he took another sip of his hot chocolate while Jimmy merely laughed.

“Token what about-“

“I’m not getting involved in this.”

Okay, so maybe that was a silly thing to have a disagreement about but it was a conversation the group had every year. And every year the results were always the same. But it was a tradition for them, so why should they break a system that had no flaws and wasn’t even broken to begin with?

“I’m going to check on Tweek,” Craig stood from his seat in the recliner with a half empty mug in his hands. “See if he needs any help with the cookies or what not.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to just make out with your bo-“ a pillow made contact with Clyde’s face. “Why?”

Craig said nothing as he walked into the kitchen, where he found his boyfriend busy at work. The blonde was covered in cookie dough and flour and the kitchen counter could use a nice wipe down, but Craig smiled at the sight.

He made his way behind Tweek quietly and wrapped the blonde in a light hug (after he had put a tray of cookies into the stove), which caused Tweek to jump.

The blonde turned around and smiled up at his boyfriend as he lightly hit him on the chest with his fist, “you scared me!”

“I’m sorry.”

“What if I was holding cookies and I dropped them?”

“But you weren’t holding cookies so…”

Tweek pulled away, not like he needed to try as Craig wasn’t holding him tightly, and made his way over to the counter to begin cleaning up his mess.

“But what if I was?”

“But you weren’t.”

“You’re such a jerk.”

“Yeah well…” Craig walked over to him and wrapped his arms around Tweek’s waist and kissed his cheek before resting his head onto Tweek’s shoulder. “I’m your jerk.”

Tweek turned to the side slightly and poked Craig’s cheek, which caused the black haired teenager to look up, and smile when he was greeted with a gentle kiss to the lips.

“You taste like a sugar cookie,” Craig licked over his lips after Tweek pulled away. “Were you eating the cookie dough?”

“Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t… what’re you going to do about it tough guy?”

Craig thought for a minute before kissing Tweek again, “that. I’m going to do that.”

Tweek smiled as he turned in Craig’s hold to wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, “you nerd.”

“Yeah yeah…”

The two stood like that for a while, Tweek making them both sway back and forth as if they were dancing to music only the two of them could hear while they waited for the cookies to finish baking.

This is just how it was. Every year for the past however many years this is how the boys spent their holiday.

And okay so maybe it wasn’t much but it was their tradition and they wouldn’t change it for the world.

[troublcmakcrs]

▸   @muutos   ⟶   ❛  ❛ You didn’t tell me this would happen. ❜ Kyle for tweak bc I wanna interact with blond boy too  ❜   ╱   (  a court of , accepting .  )

     KYLE  HAD  BARELY  gotten  the  statement  out  when  Tweek  laughed  at  it ,  loud  and  derisive .    He  was  tense ,  coiled  in  on  himself  like  a  viper ,  green  eyes  soaked  with  venom  as  he  whirled  around  to  fix  them  on  the  redhead .    “ Would  you  have  f-fucking  believed  me  if  I  did ? ”  he  snarled .    Psycho ,  crazy ,  schizo ,  et  cetera   . . .    He  had  gotten  so  used  to  being  written  off ,  and  now  he  no  longer  had  the  energy  for  doling  out  warnings  people  wouldn’t  heed .

     There  was  a  trickle  of  satisfaction  on  witnessing  Kyle’s  baffled  and  perhaps  slightly  frightened  countenance .    Who  was  overreacting  now ?

     “ When  has  me  opening  my  mouth  done  anything  for  me  or  anyone  else ? ”    He  shouldn’t  have  been  so  angry  at  Kyle  —  and  maybe  he  wasn’t ,  merely  taking  his  issues  with  the  wider  populace ,  with  Craig  Tucker ,  out  on  the  nearest  available  target .

     He  reached  into  the  front  pocket  of  his  shirt  and  pulled  out  a  wrinkled  scrap  of  paper .    “ Besides ,  I  got  more  important  shit  to  worry  about . ”    Tweek  was  not  bothered  nearly  as  much  by  what  he  now  realized  were  trivial  problems .    Oh ,  to  go  back  to  the  days  when  he  shared  Kyle’s  lesser ,  more  typical  neuroses   . . .    “ And  if  I  don’t  take  —  ngh  —  care  of  that ,  n-none  of  this  is  gonna  be  a  problem  for  much  longer . ”

[troublcmakcrs]

▸   @muutos   ⟶   ❛  ❝ I’m not getting drawn into this mess! ❞ / kyle for craig !?  ❜   ╱   (  king arthur , accepting .  )

     AS  SOON  AS  Kyle  started  to  protest ,  Craig’s  hand  darted  out  and  seized  him  by  the  arm ,  just  above  his  elbow .    Fingers  tightened  like  a  vice ,  ensuring  the  redhead  couldn’t  easily  twist  out  of  them ,  likely  sprouting  bruises  under  the  fabric  of  his  coat .    “ Fucking  newsflash ,  dickface , ”  Craig  spat ,  pulling  Kyle  towards  him ,  “ you’re  already  in  it . ”

     Stan’s  whole  group ,  Kyle  included ,  was  forever  causing  problems  for  everyone  else  and  finding  ways  to  weasel  out  of  them ,  and  frankly ,  Craig  was  sick  of  it .    He  was  at  the  point  of  no  longer  caring  whether  he  went  down  as  long  as  one  of  those  dipshit  chucklefucks  went  down  with  him .    That  meant  Kyle  was  stuck  with  him ,  for  better  or  worse  —  worse ,  definitely  worse .

     “ If  anyone  doesn’t  wanna  be  here ,  it’s  me ,  all  right ?    And  if  you  wanna  get  out  of  here ,  you’re  taking  me  with  you ,  or  you’re  not  going . ”

[troublcmakcrs]

▸   @muutos   ⟶   ❛  “I, um… might have… had something to, uh… do with that…" (tweek for craig perhaps)  ❜   ╱   (  random , accepting .  )

     CRAIG   TILTED   HIS   head  away  from  Tweek  and  closed  his  eyes ,  pressed  his  mouth  into  a  hard  line ,  and  inhaled  slowly  through  his  nose .    His  fingers  curled  and  flexed ,  but  he  caught  himself  before  he  could  close  them  into  fists .    Don’t  hit  him ,  don’t  hit  him ,  don’t  hit  him   .   .   .    Hitting  your  boyfriend  looked  bad  compared  to  rightfully  beating  the  shit  out  of  one  of  your  dude  friends ,  which  was  one  of  the  many  awful  conclusions  Craig  had  come  to  since  starting  this  bullshit  with  Tweek .

     To  hell  with  the  town  —  should’ve  let  them  howl .    Then ,  he  wouldn’t  have  to  worry  about  getting  a  domestic  called  on  him .

     With  at  least  some  of  the  urge  to  lash  out  drained  from  him ,  he  opened  his  eyes  again ,  piercing  blue  drilling  into  Tweek’s  skull .    Craig  thought  he  was  being  a  shining  example  of  rationality ,  giving  the  other  boy  a  chance  to  explain  himself ,  but  he  had  to  force  the  words  out  through  clenched  teeth :  “ What   .   .   .  happened ? ”

[troublcmakcrs]

//overheard conversation between 2 waffle house waitresses

[troublcmakcrs]

gossip

[troublcmakcrs]

In Tweek's teen years, his parents kept him on an even shorter leash than they did before, mostly due to the psychotic break he suffered at 13, as a result of prolonged meth use. (And their constant gaslighting of him, making him doubt his reality, certainly didn't help, either.) They, of course, dressed it up like they were trying to protect him, but the fear was that because he was often dissociative and spouting seemingly random bullshit that he would eventually spit out something that would incriminate them. Or people would realize how sick he was and insist on taking him from them.

In fact, the prospect of being taken from them was one that they often held over his head to scare him into silence, to take better care at masking some of his symptoms.

He was allowed to stay in middle school, but at 15, in their first year of high school, he and Craig got into the extremely bloody, violent fight that earned them both a trip to the hospital and led to their final breakup. This was done for a variety of reasons, mostly to keep him away from Craig and because they trusted him to be away from them even less now. The fight with Craig was instigated in the Tweaks' kitchen, when both of the adults were out of the house for business, and they came back to find the place trashed and decided, okay, no more of that.

The Tweaks insisted that they were homeschooling Tweek, but they... weren't, really. They stationed Tweek as a full-time employee in their coffeeshop and pretty much ignored the schooling curriculum entirely. (Tweek was never going to be away from them, so why would he need it? They would take care of him.) Which means most high school knowledge, things people take for granted and consider "common sense," gets lost on Tweek sometimes.

Being pulled from high school also leads Tweek to being somewhat emotionally & developmentally stunted, as he was not socialized properly with the rest of his peers. Instead of getting to chat with them at lunch and whatnot, he was working and being coddled by his parents and trying to find ways to cope with his ever worsening mental health. This sheltering has put him very behind, and he struggles to make it in the adult world on his own, or relate to a lot of adult problems, finding himself very overwhelmed by the prospect of... just about anything that came much easier for his peers (going back to school, driving, getting an apartment, etc).

That is not to say, though, that he has no friends at all during that time. While maintaining a conversation with teen Tweek is often... difficult, some days are better than others, and it's possible to find him a little brighter and more willing to engage.

Thanks to Heidi (@angstbullshit), he gets dragged into the Goth Kids' group and can sometimes be witnessed sporting the fashion when he feels up to putting effort into his appearance. He is not a permanent fixature in the Goth Kids' group, often dips in and out of it, and is only really there for Heidi, but he likes the others well enough. Of all of them, Heidi keeps in touch with Tweek the most, sometimes running away from her stints in the mental hospital just to see him, either in Tweek Bros. Coffeehouse or tapping on his bedroom window. (She scares the everloving shit out of him every time she does the latter.)

Then, Clyde & Kenny of @howdyneighborr visit him regularly at the coffeeshop as well. Clyde strikes up at least small talk with Tweek when he's working the front, and Kenny, because his family supplies the meth that the Tweaks use, often delivers it in order to be able to talk to Tweek in the back room. Where exactly Tweek is working in the coffeeshop depends on where his mental health is at on that particular day, which means Kenny often sees him in a much worse state than Clyde does.

Tweek is not completely isolated during this time, just mostly. But it's unrealistic to say that he's entirely alone, even if he can sometimes feel that way.

[troublcmakcrs]

▸   @spookynight   ⟶   ❛  “  Look at you! You’re spilling coffee.  ” // From Lack of Sleep Starters!. [ Gregory @ Tweek | Verse(s) of your choice. ]  ❜   ╱   (  lack of sleep , accepting .  )

      Tweek snapped to attention when Gregory’s tone shifted, and he blinked at the other for a moment before the coffeepot he was clutching in a shaking hand finally wormed its way into his consciousness.  Even then, he watched black-brown rivulets spill over the side of an overfilled mug and pool on the counter’s surface before the situation hit him in full.  He cried out, jammed the coffeepot back onto the warmer, and ripped the offending cup off the counter with both hands, his trembling launching more steaming liquid over the side of the teal ceramic and down his skeletal hands.

      “Sorry,” he murmured, but his eyes were already glazing over again.  “Sorry, s-sorry, I’m sorry…”  He repeated it like a mantra, like a funeral march, as he carried his mistake to the sink and poured it out.  His right hand, curled into a talon, raked at his ear’s cartilage, the closest he could get to slamming his ears shut entirely at the moment.  Customers didn’t like it when you looked like you wanted them to be quiet.

      6-8… 5-4… 9-3… 4-1… 3-7…

      Tweek bunched up paper towels in his fists and tipped his head all the way to the right, as if he could make the numbers spill out of it that way.  “Shut up,” he seethed in a whisper, molars grinding together.  “Shut up.”  God, what he wouldn’t give to have that crackpot DJ back on the air right about now—

      7-3… 7-2… 5-9…

      He saw a sticker or something like that one time that read: Your nearest numbers station could save your life.  There was only one problem—the only thing he knew about numbers stations was that they had something to do with nuclear warfare, and he had no idea how to interpret them.  “I don’t understand,” he whispered to the uncaring mechanical god now droning out: 7-0… 3-6…

      He tore his wad of paper towels in two separate halves, stomped back to the counter, his expression grave, and slammed one of the halves down on the slowly inching coffee puddle.  “I’m sorry,” he said again, half to Gregory now, trying to pull himself out of the numeric haze.  This was the part where one of his parents would make a quip about spilled coffee in a coffeehouse, either a cheekily self-deprecating comment about how it reflected poorly on them or a breezy remark about how it wasn’t a big deal because they had plenty more where that came from.  But Tweek was not nearly as customer-oriented as either of them, and he subsequently wasn’t supposed to work the front alone, but fate happened to shake out that way today.

      As much as he wanted to use it as an excuse—8-2… 4-4… 4-5… 9-5…—he had been given express orders to never bring up the radio with customers, no matter how distracting it was on any particular day, so he didn’t.  The spill rectified, Tweek tapped the counter and attempted to look up at Gregory, although his gaze landed somewhere over the other’s shoulder.  “Sorry, I’ll g-get you another one.”  His brow furrowed with concentration, and after finding the last fifteen minutes completely voided from his recollection, he sheepishly requested, “Wh-what did you order again?”

[troublcmakcrs]

     closed starter for   ⟶   @angstbullshit

Tweek squeaks with surprise when Heidi drops her winning red piece into place, even though the last few rounds should have told him this outcome was completely predictable.  He laughs softly and nibbles on his bottom lip.  “Man, you’re good at this game,” he tells Heidi, even though she is probably being helped by the fact that Tweek is far from an expert strategist and has been placing his pieces much more haphazardly.

He spent his first day in the hospital in bed, feeling faint, recovering from blood loss.  He doesn’t know if he’s supposed to be out of bed, but the doctors haven’t stopped him except to ask if he needs help walking, and he is not going to spend his 48 remaining hours lying still in bed.  He needs a distraction, or he’ll start talking back to the Radio Man or that thing he hasn’t named yet, seeing as it defies all verbal explanation.  Then, he’ll really seem crazy, and they’ll never let him out.  Not that he’s ecstatic about going home, but he would much rather be in a hell that’s familiar to him than one that isn’t.

Speaking of familiar, he was relieved to see Heidi in the rec room, although he already suspected he would.  Her getting institutionalized was the talk of the town for a while.  It still is within the walls of Tweek’s home, his father thanking him for not turning out like ‘that crazy girl,’ for breaking down more quietly instead of screaming and running through the streets.  His most recent breakdown, the one that caused Craig to ship him off to this place, saw him missing too much blood to run and scream, but whatever.

He is smiling like someone who didn’t try to kill himself the day previous, and he has Heidi’s company and the distance from his parents and Craig, who are at work and school respectively, to thank for that.  Life will get worse when one or all come to visit him in a few hours, and he is trying to make the most of his time.

He pulls the bottom tab out of the Connect 4 stand, sending all the colored chips clattering against the table loudly enough to make him flinch slightly.  One of Heidi’s red ones slips off the table and lands near his feet, and he fumbles for it with shaky hands for a second before sliding it back across the table to Heidi.  His trembling is due to withdrawal—he shakes if he has meth, and he shakes if he doesn’t, damned if he does, damned if he doesn’t—and he expects to deteriorate further by the time his parents or Craig get here.  He knows the first thing his dad’s going to do when his 72-hour sentence is up is shove a coffee into his hands, and he can’t tell if he’s looking forward to it or not.

It seems like all his life is just picking between the lesser of two evils—staying in a relationship with a boy he has come to resent or dealing with backlash from his folks and the rest of the town, letting himself get drugged or feeling like his head’s splitting open and he’s going to drop dead, staying in this fluorescent-lighted prison or going home.  Is it really any wonder he wants out so badly?

With someone he knows around him, it’s easier to push those thoughts to the back of his mind and shake the paranoia about judgmental eyes burning into the back of his neck.  Heidi looks just as shitty as he does, just as exhausted, just as pained, just as mangy and corpse-like.  She has no room to talk, not that he thinks she would.

Tweek beams across the table at her while he draws all his yellows back toward him.  “You wanna go another round?”

[troublcmakcrs]

▸   @hiravth​   ⟶   ❛  ❝ i mean, what could possibly go wrong, right? ❞ ( Kenny; for Tweek )  ❜   ╱   (  the gray man , accepting .  )

“Don’t say that,” Tweek snaps through gritted teeth.  “Don’t fucking say that.  You know that by saying, ‘What could go wrong?’ you’re inviting that exact thing to happen.”  Kenny has always been eerily blasé about the concept of death and worst-case scenarios while Tweek has been the opposite.  However, his relationship with death has become a bit muddier recently.

He rakes his nails into his forearm, above the collection of half a dozen or so bracelets crisscrossed over his more notable scars, the ones that get people staring.  “People are always saying shit like, ‘It’s not a big deal, nothing’s gonna happen!’ and then, days later, World War fucking III is announced, and I’m sick of it!”

It’s not Kenny’s fault that people in this town keep messing things up for everyone else and never learning any lessons from it, but Tweek still eyes him warily.  Of that particular group of friends, Kenny is the one he knows the least.  He went away for a while, and Tweek was selected to take his place, and then the former came back, and the latter was kicked out again.  So, the two of them did not hang out much and certainly not alone.  They’ve been to each other’s houses countless times but never for long and always on business, given their folks’ working relationship.

Tweek turns his gaze away, back toward the bags of Sunset Blend he’s supposed to be packing.  “B-besides, I’m busy here…”  All he does these days is work.  Better the devil he knows…  Better he stays where the only two people in town who can tolerate his episodes can keep an eye on him.  “I can’t afford too many ad-adventures.”

[troublcmakcrs]

▸   @angstbullshit  ​ ⟶   ❛  ❛ why are we constantly misunderstood? ❜ / @ TWEEK !  ❜   ╱   (  spongebob the musical , accepting .  )

“Brilliant artists often are,” Tweek sighs dramatically as he pours her a cup of coffee.  He made her a fresh pot from grounds they have in the back, a bag that hasn’t been laced with meth yet.  Speaking of art, he wishes she wasn’t too goth to take her coffee any way other than black so he could make cute foam pictures for her, but oh, well.

He is just glad to have her here visiting, and since her appearance successfully pulled him out of a fog of multiple days, she has every right to drink as much black coffee as she wants.  His offer for a free baked good from the counter display stands, too, but he knows how she is about food and doesn’t intend to push it.

“You and me are ahead of our time and suffering for it, like Vincent van Gogh.”  He is not actually that confident, but joking about it is a welcome break from what he usually thinks of himself.  And considering how van Gogh went out, it’s still that gallows humor that he and Heidi have grown to enjoy.

He sets the teal mug down before Heidi and says, “At least, we have each other to make sure we don’t drown in the sea of conformists.”

[troublcmakcrs]

▸   @angstbullshit  ​ ⟶   ❛  ❛ i don't know what will happen next . . . but for right now ? i’m just glad i'm here with you . ❜ / @ TWEEK ! TWEEK !  ❜   ╱   (  spongebob the musical , accepting .  )

Tweek and Heidi should be in their beds by now, but unwilling to leave each other’s sides as they are, they sit huddled close together in a dead-end hallway that many nurses seem to neglect.  They will be separated as soon as they are caught, but not before.  At some point tomorrow, probably at the asscrack of dawn, just before the coffee shop opens, Tweek’s father will come to collect him.  Or maybe he will wait until after work so he can bring Craig with him, which would be preferable because as much as Tweek doesn’t want to speak to Craig, he dreads going back to work immediately even more.

The point is, though, that he doesn’t have much longer with Heidi.  He didn’t get to spend all the time with her he wanted to because there have been discussions to have with the doctors and therapists, and his family and Craig came to visit and kept him occupied in his room much longer than he wanted to be.  He was irritable and short with them, and they probably didn’t think he had improved much, but really, he was anxious to get back to Heidi in the rec room.

“Is it bad?” he asks quietly, looking down at their hands, less than an inch apart on the cold tile between them.  “I don’t want to stay here, but I don’t want to go back.”  Either option feels like imprisonment, and his desperation to be a free man is what led him here in the first place.  Heidi is the only thing that has made the experience at all bearable.

“You’ll come see me when you get out, won’t you?”  He tries to meet her eyes with that plea, but the tears springing into the corners of his vision make him divert his gaze again.  “I know I’ll be in a state, but I—I don’t want to lose track of you.”  He shivers and rests his head against the wall, regretting not bringing a blanket from his room.  “It’s just that you’re… it.  Everyone else has given up on me.”

[troublcmakcrs]

▸   @popularmxnster   ⟶   ❛  ❝   don’t worry, it’s fake! it’s fake! sorry, i forgot—…   ❞ (anyone you want!!)  ❜   ╱   (  halloween trauma , accepting .  )

   Upon being told that the prop is just that, Tweek’s screaming died down, and he forced himself to really focus on it.  It was a model of a severed arm with a dark red trail of paint running from the exposed bone to the tips of the fingers.  Now that he was looking at it more closely, he didn’t know how he ever took it for real, but that didn’t help his shaking die down at all.

   “Jesus—fuck!” he cried, glaring at the arm for its crime of existing.  “I f-f-fucking hate Halloween!  Isn’t the world f-full of en-enough fucked-up b-b-bullshit?”  He hated horror and all that related to it because he didn’t think the awfulness of the world ought to be glorified.

   “Isn’t it a bit—hah—fucking early to c-celebrate, anyway?”