south_park_kink_meme | General Prompt Meme

General Prompt Meme

Welcome to the South Park General Prompt Meme!

Got a non-kinky situation you'd like written? Just wanna see some guys in some situations? Please feel free to leave a prompt below in the comments, and see if there are any you'd like to write or draw!

As with the kink meme, as long as you've got something you'd really like to see and you give a potential filler enough to work with, you should be golden! Please ask here if you've got any questions or need any help.

Some simple guidelines:

1. Please do not fight about ships or content in your prompts.

2. Hit "Post a new comment" if you'd like to leave a prompt, and hit "Reply to this" beneath the prompt you'd like to fill if you're filling a prompt. It's traditional to write the fic in the replies, but you can leave external site links too (such as link to art on privatter or to fic on AO3).

3. Ships are fine but not necessary. If your idea centers around a ship, as on AO3, please indicate that in the subject line with "/" for romantic or sexual relationships, and use "&" to indicate non-sexual or non-romantic relationships. If it centers around just one character, please provide the character's name. Please see this example prompt if you'd like some guidance.

4. If you submit a prompt that would be better suited for the kink meme (such as a prompt that centers around smut, kink, or a taboo), I may add it there instead so please check the kink meme if you don't see your prompt here!

Thank you, and please enjoy!

These are archived on the main index page that also includes all the kink meme prompts and fills, but please find below an index of only general meme prompts and fills (for those who would prefer not to scroll a ton of NSFW):

Filled Prompts

Craig/Tweek, angst ft. references to major character death, suicide, drugs/overdose, murder
Craig/Tweek, homoerotic tension, kissing, longing ft. metro!Creek

Kenny&Tweek, superhero/villain interview ft. Mysterion and journalist Tweek (AO3 link)

Stan/Tolkien, first smoke/shotgunning (AO3 link)

Unfilled Prompts

Bebe, day in the life
Bebe & Henrietta, doing each other's makeup (either platonic or shippy)
Craig & Kyle, fake dating gone wrong
Craig/Tweek, actor, gay repression, bath time!!! ft. actor Tweek
Craig/Tweek, A.I. ft. sex doll/companion robot maker Craig and robot Tweek
Craig/Tweek, angst ft. Tweek responsible for Craig's death in some way
Craig/Tweek, doppelgänger, mental health, horror
Craig/Tweek, fluff, canon-aged
Craig/Tweek, fucked up meetcute ft. coroner Tweek and incompetent homicide detective Craig
Craig/Tweek, one-sided love, betrayal ft. bounty hunter Tweek and SoT setting
Craig/Tweek, possessed coffee machine & convenience store clerk
Kenny & Mr. Possy, ratatouille the movie but with Mr. Possy
Kenny/Kyle, cooking
Kyle/Cartman, slowburn, enemies to lovers ft. tutoring
Kyle/Nichole, basketball
Stan/Gary, loaded conversation, roommates
Stan/Kyle, one-sided, failed romance
Stan/Tolkien, pet dates ft. Creek cats
Tweek & Kenny, superhero/villain interview with optional former lovers Twenny

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Kevin joins anime club for a day to get some intel on the girl he likes, Red, from none other than her cousin, Craig. He may be barking up too gay and autistic a tree, but perhaps he will glean some insights nonetheless.

Tolkien has been recently making regular visits to an animal shelter that Stan owns/works at, to help out, get more info about animal care in general and maybe get his spoiled pet cat Craig some friends. Along with the shelter animals Stan also has various pets on his own including Tweek who is a very nervous hyperactive fluffy rescue cat. Tolkien respects Stan a lot for what he's doing and Stan is very flustered and crushing hard. Craig acts possessive of Tolkien and is hostile to Stan, Tweek is very shy around Tolkien. Craig and Tweek get into a fight initially which worries Stan and Tolkien but they're seen curling up with each other shortly after and make a fuss when they have to be separated and so maybe Tolkien has to spend the night at Stan's

Bonus if Kenny is also there at some point as a big fuzzy dog and Tweek likes to hide behind him

Kyle is forced to tutor cartman for "x" reasons, and reluctantly agrees. He comes to find out that cartman is actually really smart and could be doing great in his classes but for some reason isn't trying. They have some vulnerable moments together, and slowly grow closer. Slow burn enemies to loversss!!! 👀

Craig reminisces on the signs he missed leading up to Tweek's suicide(alternative ending what if it wasnt a suicide and he accidentally overdosed on the meth the Tweaks feed him 👀?)

i'm not sure if this is what you asked for but i hope you like it.

prompt already specifies it but: TW discussions of suicide, overdosing, drug abuse, murder(?) and everything. read at an available time.
i don't want to make anyone uncomfy 😭😭😭

---
Craig feels like he’s dying. Like he’s being strangled and repeatedly stabbed and with a huge weight sitting on his chest and he can’t breathe. It’s so fucking difficult to pry his eyes open, but his vision slowly gets used to his surroundings.

“Nobody is trying to kill you,” he tells himself. “You’re gonna be okay.” These are the same words of reassurance he often told Tweek, that he never thought he’d need.

He doesn’t mind waking up from nightmares. No matter what happens to him while he’s sleeping, in the end, he has to open his eyes to a world that he resents anyway. He’s able to be comforted at least for a minute with the mundane reality of his life slowly setting in once again. When he has a good dream however, life itself is the nightmare he can’t forcefully wake up from.

He grabs the mug in his nightstand— he has to use some force as it’s been stuck to the sticky stain it left underneath. It’s coffee from yesterday morning, or the day before that, he isn’t sure. It tastes like absolute dogshit. Not that it’d be any different if it was freshly brewed— Craig hates coffee, that’s why the cup isn’t empty in the first place. Though he must have some in order to function. It’s not about caffeine. Maybe at this point, that’s also a contributing factor, he has no idea. He just needs his daily ritual to keep himself somewhat saner. This mug isn’t even his.

“That’s— Augh, that’s it! It’s over, Craig, okay? It’s for the best, and I don’t want to hear anything else!”

Fine.

If that's what Tweek wants. That’s what a mature person would think, so that’s what he said, too. But Craig was thinking mean thoughts, and he was angry. They’d eventually transition into frustration. He loved him more than anything else in the world. Yet it wasn’t working out. It wasn’t enough. Why the fuck not? He was so angry that he couldn’t solve it. He’d ponder forever. He didn’t want to break up with Tweek. He really thought this would be what would keep him up at night for days to come.

That was two days before Tweek killed himself.

“Nobody is trying to kill you.” Well, except for himself, apparently.

It wasn’t a shock for many people, no matter how much they tried to pretend it was. After all, Tweek was always in shambles. He took all sorts of pills. Some of them Craig was sure he didn’t even need. He just did what he was supposed to.

Was it on purpose? Did he know what he was doing the whole time? Was it so that Craig would handle the aftermath easier? That sort of twisted logic lined up with Tweek’s supposed self destructive behavior that everyone always kept talking about. Why the fuck does it feel so wrong, then?

He received all kinds of condolences. “Sorry for your loss.”, “I’m always here for you.”, “You did your best,” “Don’t blame yourself.”

And his favorite, “It’s not like you could have helped.” Or a kinder way of saying Tweek was a goner.

Maybe that’s right. But they haven’t tried. Maybe Craig doesn’t have the right to get angry. He probably ended up hurting Tweek more often than some of these people ever did. But they didn’t even try. Who the fuck are they to decide nothing could’ve been done?

“I feel like I’m falling off the edge of the world,” he remembers Tweek saying. “Do you, rrgh, do you get that? Does that make sense? Or am I going insane?”

“I don’t think I can go on any longer. I can’t do it, Craig! I can’t! I can’t!”

“I don’t want to leave you, either! Of fucking course not! That’s why— That’s why I’m always so scared.”

Sometimes, Tweek would be either drawn to, or unable to ignore his sources of anxiety. So they’d talk about the end of the world. All sorts of natural disasters. Meteors, zombie apocalypse, alien invasion. Craig always joked about just “unplugging” at the slightest inconvenience. Tweek always got so furious at him for that, even when he wasn’t serious— of course he would never ever leave Tweek alone.

Tweek wanted to live, probably more than Craig. He fought for that more than most people he knows. That’s why he can’t accept what happened. He must have been in unbearable pain, not in the right state of mind, it must all have been so spontaneous. Tweek didn’t hate himself, despite being made to think that way.

He takes another bitter sip. He kicks the mountain of clothes blocking his path as he gets off of his bed. He puts on some pants. And he makes his way down the stairs.

The living room is dim, it’s getting dark but not enough to warrant turning the lights on yet. It’s raining outside. Tricia is there talking on the phone. He places the dirty mug on the kitchen counter. His mom is cooking dinner and his dad is watching TV. He sits down next to him on the couch.

“So you did decide to wake up,” his dad says, eyes still glued to the screen. “It’s like, what? 3 PM?”

“5 PM.”

“Oh.”

They don’t talk more after that. Craig just pretends he’s watching the TV, it’s just some colorful shapes. Until it’s not. Suddenly it’s “TWEEK BROS COFFEE OWNERS ARRESTED FOR METH POSSESSION”

“Thomas!” His mom yells, furious. “Change the channel!”

He hates it. He hates being treated like he’s sensitive. Like there’s eggshells. And more importantly, he hates that it’s not wrong.

As his dad struggles to do so, it turns out, unsurprisingly, every channel has the same news. As he zaps and zaps and it’s all variations of the words “TWEAK”, “METH”, “COFFEE”, “TWEEK BROS”. The different news anchors just end up completing each other's sentences. Tricia rushes to snatch the remote from him and is able to quickly switch to some animal documentary.

Craig, though, easily grabs the remote from her hands, catching her off guard with how inactive he’s been prior to that one swift motion. The bathing capybaras on the screen are replaced by people talking again.

“I was watching that, fuckface!” Tricia protests, trying to get the remote back. Though she also can’t help but be preoccupied with what's on the screen, and now they’re both watching footage of Tweek’s parents getting arrested. Tweek himself isn’t mentioned. Though it’s not like he can hear anything. His tears are starting to blur his vision that’s already going black. He’s screaming.

His parents call out to him. Their voices sound so distant. They look so worried but in an awe of what they should do. Craig gets that. He almost feels bad for them.

“...another tantrum,” he guesses his mom uttering in between her words. Craig is too old to be throwing tantrums. And maybe too young to have “episodes.” He’s sixteen years old, but from an outsider's perspective, how different is he from a kid who desperately wants his favorite toy back? He’s ashamed, because it shouldn’t be like that. Tweek isn’t a toy. Tweek’s been fucking wronged.

He throws the remote. Some batteries fly out. He knocks over something that he guesses was the table. He punches and kicks the wall. His limbs hurt. His throat hurts, it just hurts all over.

He can tell his name is being yelled, he’s so scared. He somehow finds his way back upstairs. He bangs his door shut. His ears still aren’t registering the loud noise, but a bunch of stuff from his coat hanger ends up on the ground. He buries himself in his bed yet again.

He hates feeling this way, he hates that he’s acting on it. When he’s untranslatable and incomprehensible. Tweek knew that, too, but he didn’t mind it, and he let him feel that way, and things would slowly start to make sense with him being there, anyway. He grabs his phone. He has dozens of unread messages, but he opens Tweek’s chat window.

Honey: i miss u

He didn’t receive this just now. The timestamp is actually close to the current time, but it’s from a year and a half ago. It’s a starred message. Craig used to always delete everything in his chat archive every few weeks or even days. He liked keeping things neat. Yet he never deleted a single message from Tweek. He keeps scrolling.

Honey: i miss u so fuckin muchhhh godddddd
come back alreaydyyyyyyyyy

You: Just one more day babe
And we will be back
Wyd

Honey: omw
picking up stuff
for the shop

You: Why are they always sending you
Cant they have it be delivered smh

Honey: u know my parents r cheap :P
they also think it s safer for me to do ittt tho idk what that means!!!!

Tweek always worked so hard on everything. And that included the shop. Tweaks had been importing special ingredients for their coffee. Picked up by their son, who would later taste test it. The next thing he knows, he’s typing all sorts of things into his Google search bar.

“Methamphetamine”

“What meth does to your body”

“Overdosing”

“Signs of meth abuse”

He’s straight faced the entire time. Like he’s just looking up stuff to copy down for his homework. His emotions have knocked him out of his body again. That’s what he was afraid of happening with Tweek.

He proceeds to go through all the information like it’s the most unpleasant grocery list ever. Craig’s mind, maybe as an effort to ease himself, goes back to times he cuddled Tweek through his sleepless nights, the warmth of his body when Craig’s hands would venture under the green shirt and he could feel his ribs. It backfires.

He scrolls to see the last physical “sign” of meth abuse is death. He closes the tab.

Nobody is trying to kill you. Craig didn’t know. He just turned out to be wrong. But he still feels like the biggest liar in the world. Because he helped fool Tweek. He fooled himself first and foremost.

It’s not actually a lie, though. They weren’t trying to kill him, really. Tweek was just a casualty, an oversight. Like when his mom accidentally stepped on his guinea pig. A burnt cupcake in one of the batches his parents baked. Tweek was always on alert for threats, he was always ready to fight back and defend himself. But he wasn’t even a target. How could he have fought back against that?

He keeps scrolling. He knows he probably shouldn’t do this. Not because it’s unhealthy like his therapist said— maybe he’ll eventually move on or whatever, but it’s not now. It’s because he doesn’t want them to get old or lose their meaning. Like the print on his T-shirt slowly starting to fade or grass not growing anymore on where people walk. Like he won’t be able to feel anything. Like Tweek will be gone.

He was an average young boy, even if he had his own eccentricities. He was gay and had boyfriend, like gay kid is supposed to have, and did all the things a boyfriend is supposed to do. Everything was normal and how it was meant to be. Until it dawned on him that he was actually in love with Tweek. Really, really in love with him. That he’s been casually spending time with someone so important without ever giving it much thought. And that Tweek loved him too, for who he is. He was so scared. Up until then, he never had to think or worry about anything. It was almost like everything just happened naturally, on its own. Though that was just yet another sign of how much he loved Tweek, he later figured. So it was going to be okay. That was what they told each other. And Tweek actually made him believe in it.

Honey: would u still love me if i was a worm

You: Did you see this on the internet

Honey: answer the qusetiob

You: Yea
Loving you is like my job

Honey: what!!!
no

You: Why

Honey: jobs r an obligation
they re boring the bane of our existence they suck out your life energy they make you feel worthless n stuopid
I dont want to b e your job
quit this instant
!

You: No

Honey: ok im firing u then

You: Are you breaking up with me

Honey: NO!!1!! craighDFJLDF NWOOWOOOOoo

You: Shh i know dw
Youre overthinking it tho
You arent firing me
Even if that pisses you off
And tbh i like that it does
Now im not ever gonna quit
Even if you like. End capitalism or close the shop or ever go out of business or sth

Honey: stop with the meatphors maannn

You: Ill find a way
Craig tucker doesnt back down from his word

Honey: oh like when u said u d save some pizza rolls for me

???

You: That was one time ffs.

He let Tweek go one time, along with everyone else. He won’t do it again. Tweek never wanted to leave Craig, even when he thought he should. Or his frail own body, no matter how painful it was for him. Or this world, even if it was shitty and unfair.

Honey: ur so lucky i love u <3

His eyes trace the words again and again, like they can’t ever get enough. Those are the bearers of his pain and also the power anchoring him to this world, urging him to go on. He’s lucky to have deserved it, and he’s lucky he can still hear Tweek’s earnest voice chanting inside his head, while he too, is saying them back to Tweek every time. He can’t cry anymore with his glands devoid of tears— yet dry sobs still escape him under the darkness of his weighted blanket as he repeats to himself, I love you, I love you, I love you.

Craig mimics his parents when it comes to showing his new boyfriend he cares about him, which leads to cute and awkward moments where Craig offers to do Tweek's laundry and starts using pet names for him. When Tweek shows his affection in return by buying them a new guinea pig to co-parent, Craig decides he's officially in love. Cute and fluffy !!!

Tweek deals with the fact that the person he loves the most in the world is dead because of him and nobody knows.(manner of death up to you )

Feldspar is found guilty of stealing from the Wizard King Cartman, a crime punishable by death. Princess Kenny convinces him to spare his life and instead exile him from the Kingdom of kupa keep. Thinking he got off easy, Craig is surprised to learn Cartman actually sent a bounty after him in the form of Barbarian Tweek.

Stan and Gary are college roommates with a whole lotta sexual tension. They have a conversation about issues they've been having living together (Stan's slobbiness vs. Gary's need to bleach the floors every Sunday, things like that) but really they're discussing something else (i.e. the religious repression and gay horny)

Craig is an incompetent homicide detective who finds himself "messing up" a lot more once he starts working with forensic pathologist/coroner Tweek

It’s senior year and Stan isn’t handling it well. The idea of graduating and leaving South Park behind is so daunting that, rather than face his problems, Stan convinces himself he’s in love with Kyle and that them being together will solve everything.

Whether Kyle immediately agrees or Stan spends the year scheming ways to woo him teen romcom style is up to you. When he finally gets that date, however, it doesn’t go as planned. Small disagreements and misunderstandings highlight that they just don’t know each other as well as they used to, and when Stan finally goes for the kiss there’s absolutely no spark. It’s then that he has to accept what Kyle has known all along—that while they’ll always be important to each other, there’s nothing romantic between them and they both have to grow up and move on.

Other endgame ships for one or both of them are fine if you wanna include them!

The two sneakily try out some of their dads' weed together. Stan offers to show Tolkien how to shotgun. Awkwardness and tension ensues when Stan loses control and kisses him.

Tolkien's not so sure about this. They're not tampering with his father's supply, so honestly his once-seemingly-righteous father might be pleased with him for sabotaging a business rival's stock or whatever. His mom would surely be disappointed in him for trying drugs, though.

But there's really nothing to do out here and Stan seems to know what he's talking about as they sit leaning against the back of Randy Marsh's barn, Stan tamping down the ground up drugs with the back of his lighter and explaining what "cornering the bowl" means. He sounds like a '70s movie, or a '90s movie about the '70s maybe. It's unfortunately kind of cool, even if Stan's star has fallen a lot since his family moved out here.

The seniors taught him to smoke before he was kicked off the football team, he says. There's a story there, one Stan’s practically begging him to ask about, but he's kind of uncomfortable with how desperate Stan is for someone to vent to. He wouldn't know what to say. When Stan offers him the first hit, though, he refuses, wanting to throw Stan a bone.

"Nah, I'll mess it up. You should go first," he says, tone conciliatory.

It works. Stan half-scoffs but he's grinning good-naturedly when he replies, "Dude, it's like, really easy. I’ll show you."

Tolkien watches as he holds the lighter off to the side and sucks in, pulling the flame into the corner, which is probably the process he'd been explaining while Tolkien was contemplating how disappointed his parents might be. Stan inhales easily and holds it for a few seconds before he starts violently coughing. Man, I hope he's got his inhaler on hand. I am not driving Stan to the ER today.

After a few seconds of painful sounding coughing, it dies down enough for Stan to take a swig of Gatorade. Then he offers the bowl to Tolkien with a watery-eyed smile.

"Stuff I grabbed must've been too dry," he murmurs sheepishly.

Tolkien’s now less sure about this than ever before but he’d feel bad backing out now. It would be too awkward.

“Alright.”

He grabs the bowl and tries to pull on it the way Stan did while it’s still smoking from Stan’s hit. The mouthpiece is wet like a dog slobbered on it.

“Nah, dude, you gotta light it again. Just try to do it the way I did.”

“Okay,” Tolkien says, hoping the minor irritation he's feeling hasn't crept into his voice.

He tries lighting it from down and off to the side of the bowl the way Stan had done it but it keeps burning his thumb, so finally he moves his hand up and to the right of the bowl to light it more directly. He gets a big mouthful of smoke but sucks it down and tries to inhale down into his lungs. Stan was very clear about that part and he’s not going to botch every step of this dumb ritual.

He holds it in his lungs for a few seconds and then exhales, and doesn't choke or cough once. His throat is dry though, so he looks to Stan who is watching him with rapt attention and asks for a sip of Gatorade. They’re already sharing an alarmingly moist pipe so what’s the harm in sharing his drink? Stan of course gives it freely and takes the bowl to survey the damage. Tolkien's feeling a bit warm inside already and the Gatorade tastes better than usual.

“Aw, man, you scorched it,” Stan laments, studying the burnt center of the packed bud. “It’s no big deal, I mean. There’s tons of weed, but you gotta learn the etiquette for parties and stuff.”

Tolkien rolls his eyes even though Stan is probably right. Stan’s barely gone to any parties, though, since he’s been stuck on this farm, so now Tolkien's imagining this is just what he tells himself as he gets high alone out here, dreaming about a future in which he’ll get off the goddamn farm and away from his dad and go to college parties and meet pretty girls. Pretty girls who aren’t sick of his shit yet. It’s grim theorizing about Stan’s innermost desires, so he stops.

“Maybe show me again?” he suggests instead.

“Yeah, dude, totally."

Stan is far too confident for a man who hacked up a lung not two minutes ago, but it’s not annoying or anything, not like his youthful overconfidence that always swept Tolkien up in that crew’s nonsense when he was a kid. He’s still sad from thinking about Stan’s bleak existence and prospects. He and Kyle and Wendy are top of their class (alongside the slutty homeschooled girl) and he’s overheard those two talking about how shitty Stan’s grades have gotten.

After a probably wise preemptive swig of Gatorade, Stan demonstrates technique again, this time with his left hand, like he’s showing off. He inhales more carefully it seems like, and only sputters a little on the exhale.

Then he starts getting giggly which is disarming. He passes off to Tolkien and leans in too close to advise him on his technique for this next hit.

Tolkien is mostly trying not to turn and look at Stan's flushed cheeks or take note of his overall puppy dog demeanor, so he interrupts. “I'm just trying not to burn my thumb.”

“Nah, you won’t, dude, I promise. You gotta suck hard on the inhale before you light it up; that way the flame’s pulled in. Get it?”

Tolkien sighs in frustration. Now that he's explained, he does get it in theory, but maybe he just doesn’t suck as hard at Stan. He must already be high because before he knows it, he’s laughing out loud at that, and then Stan starts laughing too, which just makes him laugh harder.

It's hard to tell he's high otherwise. It's not like it is in movies. He doesn't have the desire to eat a lot of snack foods or philosophize with Stan in a idiotic way. His touch feels more alive, though. Like everything he touches with his hands and feels on the inside brings on a larger sensation than usual. As their laughter dies down, he wants to ask Stan if that makes sense, but it seems lame to talk about being high when you're high. Stan's studying the bowl again anyway.

"You feelin' it yet, man?" Stan asks. His eyes are bloodshot and heavy-lidded, but he still has that eager to please quality to him. Tolkien feels compelled to humor him.

"A little, I guess," he replies. "I wanna keep going."

Stan scratches the back of his neck. "You ever shotgunned before?"

"Shotgun? Stan, I've never even smoked before. Remember?"

"Oh, yeah." Stan snorts at his poor memory, and then clears his throat like he's about to get serious again. It's weird, but his transparency is kind of endearing.

"Well so basically, I take a hit like normal and then I blow it into your mouth. It's just, you know, it's not a big deal to waste the weed, but I don't want to have to repack it. You know?" He's trying to sound casual but he's trying too hard. He knows what Tolkien's going to say.

"So like, a kiss basically? I don't know, man."

"No, not like a kiss! You just, uh, press your mouths together... it's totally not gay! I've never even seen Craig and Tweek do it, so it's not gay."

"Stan..."

"I can use my hands, dude. Like, make a tunnel to blow the smoke through. That definitely isn't gay."

"Fine," Tolkien concedes after a few moments, gesturing with his hand for Stan to proceed. Stan takes another well-lit hit, only breathing in shallowly, and then leans in to Tolkien. No matter what he says, it does feel like Stan's about to kiss him. Tolkien has that same feeling in his gut that he gets when a girl leans in to kiss him. That sense that a kiss could happen. And it can't be coming from him, so it must be Stan. It's all Stan.

But then he forms a tunnel with his right hand and places his mouth on the front end of it, and nods and gestures with his eyebrows that Tolkien should do the same on the other end. Tolkien sighs and bends down to receive the smoke, pressing his open mouth to the curved heel of Stan's hand. He's warm and a little clammy, but Tolkien held Tweek's hand on a rollercoaster once in middle school when he and Craig had been fighting. He's seen clammier. It's not unpleasant to press his mouth to, in any case.

It's not effective, though. The taste of weed reaches his mouth but he doesn't take in any smoke.

"Didn't work," Tolkien says, pulling back from the butt of Stan's hand.

Stan gives him a look he struggles to read and Tolkien doesn't know what overcomes him when he says, "Let's just do it without the hand already."

Stan's eyes widen, but he takes another quick hit right away, then sets the bowl down to crawl over to Tolkien again.

It's nice to see him crawl, Tolkien thinks. Then he thinks, What.

And then Stan is upon him, pressing his lips against Tolkien's clumsily. They're soft and warm and Tolkien forgets what he's supposed to be doing until Stan makes a Kenny-like sound, a muffled, insistent "Mmph!" that reverberates through his own lips into his body. Then he remembers and parts his lips, and inhales the hot smoke Stan breathes into his mouth.

It's so easy; it feels so natural with Stan. There's no way this isn't kissing, or something more intense than kissing even. It's definitely pretty gay but it's Stan's fault, so it's okay. This is a gay thing that is happening to Tolkien, not a gay thing he's doing.

That's the flimsy pretense that keeps him from stopping it, up until Stan runs out of smoke but still lingers pressed against his lips. Then he tilts his head up to suck Tolkien's top lip in his mouth and, on instinct, Tolkien shoves him away hard. He keeps a watchful eye on Stan, who looks hurt but also scared, and huffs out all the smoke in one go, but still doesn't choke. He's in control. He doesn't choke and struggle. Not like Stan.

He babbles apologies now: "Aw, Tolkien, dude. I'm, like- shit, I'm so sorry, dude, I didn't—"

"It's fine, Stan. I'm gonna go." Stan looks up at him like a kicked dog. "I'm not mad, I just need to lie down for a little bit. I'll see you tomorrow?" It comes out like a question, but it's not. He will see him tomorrow; he drives him to school every day because Stan doesn't have his own car.

He can't deal with Stan's feelings or his hang-dog expression right now, so he gets to his feet, brushes his jeans off, and turns back home. It's a lot easier to tell he's high standing up. His head spins and he wants to lie on his bed for a while; he wasn't lying about that. Once back inside, he grabs a mineral water from the fridge and heads for his room, kicking his shoes off when he realizes he didn't take them off at the door.

He's hoping he won't still be noticeably high when his parents get off work, but they both usually work late. It's just Tolkien, reflecting on the poor choices he's made to get him to where he is now, high and alone in his room thinking about the soft warmth of Stan Marsh's lips against his, how badly he needs somebody, how easy it would be to take anything Tolkien wants from him.

It's a deep, unexplored abyss, all the things Tolkien might want from a person in that way, and he drifts in and out of sleep 'til it's dark outside, feverishly holding himself back from thinking about it all, from letting himself sink into that abyss where Stan struggles and Tolkien is in control and no one ever has to know.

INCREDIBLY written. It feels like this writer genuinely understands some of Stolkien's innate appeal, especially with Stan struggling with his own place in life and Tolkien scrambling to avoid confronting his feelings. I loved all the storytelling mentioned offhandedly in musings and memories, it really helps situate where both of these characters are. Well-done!

thank you so much! i'm so glad you liked it
(AO3 link for anyone who'd prefer to read on there: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44044120)

Craig is a researcher in artificial intelligence and he makes sex dolls he gets to keep his prototype and test on it to see how realistic it is. Tweek is said prototype. Tweek knows hes a robot and that craig made him and is affectionate with him like a partner and he doesn’t think further than that. The artificial intelligence is pretty advanced, he has his own personality, and thoughts and feelings which he believes are his own and he thinks of craig as a sort of boyfriend. One day while cleaning he finds an old photograph of craig with someone who looks exactly like him. Someone that craig has never bothered to mention to him.

A sort of 9 to 5 following Bebe throughout her day in late high school! Maybe she is fixing Wendy's dumbass problems or being a listening ear, she could get detention and hang out with Craig or the goths, maybe she's got her own relationship stuff or college or afterschool stuff. Just her going about a busy day and then unwinding

Kenny and Kyle make latkes together, maybe college boyfriends era?

During the metro craze, Tweek needs help with his styling and Craig takes great pride in being able to make him look so pretty. Tweek's shy and extra twitchy though, as Craig applies lip product with his thumb. He's breathing heavily, struggling to hold eye contact, and when Craig insists Tweek look at him, Tweek gives him a look of such pure need that Craig instinctively knows he has to kiss him. It's a time in Craig's life when he has an excuse to run his fingers through Tweek's hair and tease him (sweetly) for getting flustered. That's their life until it isn't. The fad ends, and then it's taken away, and there's longing and sadness

ahughh. did not read it over. hoping you are fine with tweek pov, also
---

South Park is gay, and so is Tweek. It’s not something he decided for himself, nor did he have a say in the matter when it comes to everyone else—but this is his life now, and while it isn’t all sunshine, it sure is a lot of rainbows, and he’ll make the best of it.

The usual smell of sweat mixed with dirt and sometimes a moderate amount of piss that once lingered in the hallways has since been replaced by pleasant fragrances with names probably too fancy for Tweek to even spell. As he makes his way to his locker, he can make out the sharp scent of Tolkien’s cologne along with Jason’s hair spray.

His new gang—no, clique, stands near the entrance of the boys’ bathroom, now cleaner than ever. Craig and those other guys aren’t just metrosexual, they’re the metrosexuals, guarding their turf like it’s a sacred goalpost. Except not, because they aren’t Nuggets-enjoying, Broncos-worshiping, dirty jocks anymore and all of them know better than to go near a filthy soccer ball.

Every morning, they all take turns to greet each other with consecutive kisses on both cheeks, accompanied by an audible mwah, mwah. Tweek doesn’t do that with anyone, though. He stands there and watches. Nobody really minds him doing that, except Craig who’s currently standing in front of him, extending his arm out to him.

“What’s wrong, Honey,” he says. It sounds like a challenge, a demand, and also genuine concern at the same time. He takes one deep breath upon deciding to approach him, His chin briefly ends up in the crook of Craig’s neck, but the one armed hug they share ends when Tweek quickly backs away from him with a yelp.

Tweek wasn’t always “Honey.” “Chapped lips,” was how Craig first approached him—and it wasn’t his fucking fault that he had extra sensitive skin and was prone to bite on them by accident. Though he was super ready to bite Craig on purpose right in that moment, instead. Why was he trying to pick yet another fight after what everyone made them do?

They can be dainty and pretty all they want, but they’re still boys in an elementary school where failing behind on the latest trend doesn’t go unpunished. Once you’re out of fashion, literally and figuratively, you’re out—out of the playground.

Tweek really didn’t want it to come to that—not because he couldn’t picture the black eye he could easily give Craig. He was worried mostly about how he definitely wouldn’t look pretty after rolling in the dirty ground while trying to wipe a smirk off of another kid’s face. Tweek already had to spend literal hours trying to look presentable and less disheveled, and he knew his nervous reaction to having all that be ruined for a petty fistfight would be far from the pretty, graceful way actors manage to cry on TV.

Turns out he didn’t have to be afraid, and it was just that Craig was feeling sooo generous, that he was just really passionate about sharing and caring and all that gay stuff—and that’s how he got his own matching pink designer track top he’s wearing now. He watched Mr. Tucker iron Tweek’s name on it just yesterday, after they all caught up with the latest Queer Eye. So Tweek knows he’s a part of it all, and that he’s one of them, and yet he still feels like he’s on thin ice with everything, but mostly with Craig in particular. Especially with the way he’s still staring at Tweek, seemingly deep in thought.

He doesn’t say anything. He just grabs Tweek by the hand, surprisingly gentle, and drags him into the bathroom right after Tolkien and Jason get the cue to kick literally everyone else out, leaving only the two of them.

“Forgot to brush your hair this morning?”

“Augh, tried, man. But I—I fucking hate brushing!”

“Oh, I can tell,” he says, as he’s doing his best to untangle and tame Tweek’s locks with his fingers instead. Tweek’s so nervous, he almost feels guilty, as if he’s keeping Craig hostage, like every individual strand in his hair has a will on its own and it’s out of his control.

When he was over at Craig’s, he survived the sharp smell of the hair dye, the rustling of plastic gloves and loud blow dryer, all playing a part on the brown highlights he’s sporting today. Now, though, it’s quiet aside from distant chatter coming outside the bathroom, it’s even harder distract himself from the tender sensations especially when Craig keeps saying shit like—

“Well, you’re lucky it’s pretty, even when it’s like this.”

Pretty, pretty, pretty. That’s all Craig says nowadays, and it’s so weird, and even weirder when it’s often directed to Tweek. It’s what he said when he was sitting with his back turned to Craig and with his knees pulled to his chest, being reassured about how Craig knows what he’s doing, that he’s totally helped his mom with hers, and no, not just watched, actually helped. Tweek didn’t really buy it though, the straightener was too hot, there’s no way he wasn’t going to fry. Craig told him to calm his tits. “I’m not gonna steal your hair. It already looks pretty on you,” and of course, he later followed with, “not as pretty as it’ll be when I’m done with it, though”.

Recalling it makes Tweek yelp out once more. There’s no hot iron close to his scalp right now, and yet Tweek is burning up inside, he’s afraid he might accidentally incinerate Craig, too. Though he notices a lack of mildly painful tugging of his locks, and that Craig is now able to run his fingers, and also that he’s probably been doing so for the past minute.

He keeps saying how soft Tweek’s skin is, and how he probably doesn’t even have to shave, and Tweek doesn’t get it—Craig, we’re ten, none of us do. He doesn’t object, though, letting Craig proceed to apply powder on his cheeks. The same hands previously focused on ruining his face like, what, a couple of months ago—are now handling it with utter care. Somehow, it’s weirdly similar, the major difference being that Tweek isn’t trying to actively knee him in the stomach right now. He’s just standing here, docile and obedient. At least that’s what he’s trying to do, as he's still seconds away from accidentally decking him with the violent way he’s twitching.

Tweek’s eyes are shut until he’s startled by the touch of Craig’s finger brushing on his lip— he’s lip balm, shaking his head.

“You don’t want pretty lips?”

“Augh, I do—”

“Then just let me.”

Tweek nods, though he still isn’t letting Craig, really. He’s flinching too often to actually get the balm on his lips, causing most of it to end up on the corner of his mouth instead.

“Stay still, or we’re going to miss class, and stay like this for hours,” he warns, like it’s going to stop Tweek. It should, considering this situation is the source of his anxiety to begin with, so he should be wanting to get away as soon as possible. Yet, on the other hand, he doesn’t mind just staying like this, frozen in time, not having to think about anything or face anyone else. While Craig’s thumb is pressing on his lips as he’s holding his breath on pure instinct.

“Okay. Now look at me.”

He can’t look Craig will know, know what, Tweek has no idea, it’s something he can’t show.

“Tweek, look at me.”

“Rrr— I don’t wanna!”

“You think I’d make you ugly,” he asks. “Me. You actually think that’s possible. Is that it?”

“Ngh—no!”

“That’s great. Then you can just look at me, Honey.”

Tweek’s starting to get kind of pissed off. At all of Craig’s demands, and his blatant disregard for consequence. So he says fuck it, and does it, he looks at Craig, not giving a damn about what he’s going to unleash on him anymore—or whatever it is that Craig is intending to find there. Their eyes do meet, eventually, without Craig having those stupid shades on. What Tweek was so afraid of happening the whole time has happened already, and yet it somehow turns out to be the most comforting thing in the world, he lets himself ease up, feel at home. He’s so relaxed, he doesn’t even avert his gaze, and he doesn’t notice the way Craig looks at him back until he presses their lips together.

What’s this? What just happened? He wasn’t listening to Craig when he was going on and on about the ideal way to apply lip balm. Something something pigments and equal distribution. Tweek knows this isn’t how you apply lip products, though. Is this a part of the trend, part of being gay? It does like it— it somehow feels right.

They don’t talk about it. He spends the rest of the day feeling like he’s floating above everything and everyone the entire time. He’s still not quite present when it’s break time before their last class and they’re all cornering Kyle Broflovski, resident butch boy, who’s apparently going out of his way to prove he’s sooo better than all of them according to Craig. Not that Tweek minds straight people, at least not as long as they’re not trying to make it into their entire personality. The pressure of meticulous self care is already a lot on its own and Tweek can’t tolerate metrophobia on top of that. So naturally, things get rough for Kyle, but they go easy on him, Tweek can tell—he’s fought Craig before, so it’s an easy comparison to make. No matter what he’s wearing, Tweek knows what Craig is capable of. At least he thought he knew, until today. What he experienced might have lasted for two seconds or less, and yet it was enough to shake him from the core, make him feel a way he didn’t know was possible.

And the feeling is still there, too, even after Tweek goes home. It’s like some sort of permanent mark on him. A stamp, maybe an alien tracking device, or a hex, though even Tweek knows that’s not the case. He’s also terrified that he’ll be noticed, that one of his parents will notice and drop the bomb out of nowhere, just like always, and it’ll be horrible— it’s not like they’re able to have normal conversations about even the most mundane topic. That doesn’t happen, though. It’s not like they can see it. Craig’s strawberry chapstick is indistinguishable on his lips. The soft pink color would probably blend with his own. His dad is too busy to notice anyway, describing the new unicorn drink with marshmallows they’re selling at the shop.

Very unlike anything he can imagine aliens doing to him, Tweek doesn’t want to be rid of this, though. He doesn’t like the thought of that at all. He even hesitates before taking a sip of his coffee on the dining table, fearing that it’ll somehow be all gone and washed away.

He doesn’t want that. So when Tweek shows up the other day, that’s what he does—Craig extends his arm again to initiate another hug, and Tweek places a quick peck on Craig’s lips. That’s what he’s supposed to do, right? Did he do it right? Except he isn’t as worried about his performance as he would normally be, not when he’s ecstatic after getting something he wanted, and when he’s somehow able to look into Craig’s eyes with confidence this time.

The part of Tweek that still does fear Craig’s reaction also soon vanishes into thin air when he sees the smile Craig is giving him. That’s what marks the beginning of their new routine. Tweek still isn’t “girlfriend” or “sweetie”, he’s “Honey”, and Craig doesn’t go for a hug anymore, instead opting to go for Tweek’s chin to tilt his face upwards to meet his lips. They do the same thing every morning, and also when the last bell rings. They always giggle right after— at their shared accomplishment and just how effortlessly good they are at this. They’re so extra, just super triple dog gay—and they can’t help it.

He decides that he doesn’t care about sports. He doesn’t care about Love Boat With Men, either, or clothes that do or don’t fit. What brings him joy is so much more than that. But no, it absolutely doesn’t have anything to do with kissing his dinosaur plushie good night while imagining it’s Craig or anything, maybe just a little with the way he helped Craig put together dorky angel wings for their pride parade.

For a while, they’re lost in their own little world, and maybe that’s why it’s much harder for them to notice the exact point in time when things start reverting back to normal. The closest it gets to normal in the town they live in, anyway. Tweek isn’t sure how everyone is able to collectively decide when they’re done with something, but in the end, the day he decides to forfeit the pink is just a day like any other. When he looks in his closet, though, he can’t find anything even vaguely resembling what he used to wear. That’s not unusual for him, but they’re not under his bed or on the ground like they tend to be, either.

He makes his way downstairs. His mother says good morning to him, and claims not to know what happened to his shirt while wiping the dirty kitchen counter with what used to be one of its green sleeves. She then giggles upon Tweek pointing it out, laughing about how absent-minded she can be sometimes—just like Tweek, who never takes good care of his belongings, either. More questioning reveals how his dad has done him the charitable favor of throwing out all of his old clothes in bulk. Eventually, his efforts making sense of things prove to be futile, and so another one of his brief temper tantrums is put on the shelf before he heads out with the fidget spinner he’s given.

Upon going outside, he’s greeted with Spanish he doesn’t understand. He manages to dodge most of the glass bottles that get thrown at him. He soon gives up on the idea of scavenging the nearest clothes recycling bin for the fear of possibly getting stuck there—even if it might actually be safer from anywhere else in South Park right now, unless it’s inhabited by a rabid animal or something. He does have a plan B, though. He checks his phone to be greeted with the notification that Craig has indeed received and seen his most recent text.

It’s roughly fifteen minutes before the first period, and he’s somehow managed to sneak in without being seen by anyone except for some random third graders that laughed at him. He’s now in the thankfully empty boys bathroom, and Craig soon arrives as per their arrangement— the usual, stupid hat he wears covers most of his forehead yet again, and Tweek assumes his hair isn’t slick and perfectly parted with gel anymore underneath it.

It’s Craig who has Tweek’s clothes from way back when the Tucker residence acted as their main headquarters for beauty rituals, after they’d return with bags from the sale over at Express for Men. Without further ado, Tweek is handed an old pair of pants and one of his trademark green button-up shirts—they’re folded neatly, very unlike the way Tweek remembers tossing them before changing, and not at all like how they were kept at his own house. Without perfume on either of them, Tweek can take in the fresh scent of laundry soap, openly signaling that they’ve been washed recently.

“Thanks, man,” Tweek says, getting a simple nod of acknowledgement from Craig in return.

It’s kind of tense for a while. This feels different from changing in the gym locker rooms, but also nothing like playing dress up with his metrosexual friends. Tweek is inside one of the stalls, the door isn’t fully shut. Craig is outside, looking away from Tweek, holding garments Tweek hands him over, and making sure nobody else is coming in. He’s also what Tweek grabs for support when he almost loses his balance while trying to get both of his legs into his pants at the same time.

Eventually, he pushes the stall door open, and is greeted with Craig still facing away from him. “Rrgh—you can turn around now! It’s okay,” Tweek says, and Craig does face him again, getting a good look at Tweek before speaking up.

“That’s not okay,” Craig replies, and of fucking course it’s not. Tweek is wearing jeans, for god’s sake—they’re ripped, and not even fashionably. It’s just not okay for him to walk around like that. It’s not okay that he’s just expected to get used to things changing all over again, and it’s not okay for the two of them to be like this. He looks up at Craig to perhaps find the same judgmental gaze he already misses, before realizing Craig is in fact referring to the exposed parts of Tweek’s chest and stomach.

His buttons are all fucked up, which isn’t new or surprising, though it’s even worse than usual. In Tweek’s defense, he didn’t have to actually button up his shirt in a while, quickly getting used to the comfort that zippers offered at the time.

Apparently finding it unsalvageable, he proceeds to undo all the buttons and starts doing them from bottom to top. He’s doing it with intense concentration, an amount of focus Tweek wouldn’t be able to picture himself having towards anything— or never expect to be actually receiving.

It’s the same doting care, the sense that they’re sharing something special that others just can’t. It’s all just very familiar, it’s almost like things are still just like how they’ve always been, regardless of if his hands are covered with boxing gloves, moisturizer, or just dried glue and bandaids.

Perhaps that’s why after he’s done with the top button, Craig leans in, and Tweek also closes the distance between them, letting Craig’s thumb brush on his chin once again. Their faces are so close again now, but unlike before, there’s no perfume, no make-up, and a much stronger need— but also an invisible force snaps them out of the magnetic pull they’re in.

“Uh,” both of them let out at the same time before they both back away and avert their gaze—at least Tweek does. It’d be a good time for both of them to start laughing about old habits, but no nasal snort comes that his own raspy, awkward chuckle can follow. Instead, it’s just silence.

This time, Tweek wants to look more than anything. As his eyeballs wage a desperate war to gaze at Craig’s direction once more, he has to actively keep himself from giving in. It’s not an anxiety induced horror movie jumpscare he’s afraid of. Craig suddenly morphing into whatever monster he conjures up in his nightmares couldn’t compare to the sight of him not looking at Tweek back, or something even worse—their eyes actually meeting and all the implications that would arise out of it. He doesn’t want to face them, watch them grow and prosper, nor witness them crash and burn right before his eyes. Maybe it’s better that they never come to exist in the first place. Or maybe, he actually wants them to slip away from his sight and escape, hide and blend, continue to linger freely in the air and be buried deep and safe somewhere in the soil. All without him ever having to be aware, yet still patiently waiting to be freed. Today, though, nothing happens, and out of all the farewell gestures they’ve shared, this one ends up feeling the most like a Goodbye.

Because this can’t be their everyday anymore, and Tweek has to go and make peace with this fact, presumably all by himself. He exits the bathroom, Craig doesn’t follow him out of the door, and Tweek doesn’t look back at him. With every step he takes, he feels the distance between them grow and feed into the sudden whiplash he’s experiencing after being suddenly so far away— right after feeling closer than ever to Craig. Their faces being a hand span apart, and Craig’s neck and a small corner of his face being the only parts that make up the last glimpse Tweek has of him. Somehow, all of it felt even more intimate than when he's actually kissed him as part of a morning ritual. He keeps on walking, still reflecting on events that he knows he’ll be still thinking about when he’s playing basketball with Stan and Kyle and the other guys, and when Craig is in the other part of the playground talking about Space Trek or some shit with Kevin Stoley.

When they end up sitting a few desks away from each other in the same class, he feels Craig sneaking glances, unsure if it’s the result of some weird wishful thinking or just the usual paranoia—though in the end, it’s all the same, really. After all, everyone knows that Tweek makes stuff up. That he imagines things. So, even when he readjusts to normalcy and can’t recall the scent of Craig’s perfume anymore—he still finds himself wondering how Craig’s lips would taste without the chapstick or the lip gloss, and if he’ll ever get to find out, someday.

this is absolutely everything i ever wanted out of this prompt. it's so funny and sweet and well-written, and i love how you play up the fact that they are just two background dudes in an absurdist cartoon show that resets weekly. i will be rereading often -- thank you for this wonderful fill <3 [plz imagine: cat crying, cat shaking fictional gays]

Craig and Kyle each have a crush, Craig on Tweek and Kyle on Nichole, but got no game. Tweek has no idea what's going on when Craig tries to pick him up and Nichole thinks Kyle's being weird. They decide to fake date but now Nichole thinks Kyle's gay and Tweek still has no idea what's going on. It can resolve however you like in terms of the creek/kychole, but I really want a subversion of the fake dating trope where they are very focused on solving the issue at hand rather than getting bogged down by new feelings

Exactly what it says above and it can be shippy if you want! I just want to see these two interact

It can be anything. Shooting hoops, attending a game. As long as it's shippy!

Based on this silly little image I saw on tumblr:

Craig is the only guy willing to come into work cuz he has a crush on the demon boy haunting the coffee machine.

Tweek is a journalist covering crime in South Park City (please don't call it that lol, just know I'm doing a Batman thing) and he has an interview with rogue former superhero Mysterion. Tense meal and interview where (rightfully) paranoid Tweek is holding a gun on Kenny the whole time. Bonus if they used to be lovers and it's full of innuendo

Link to AO3:https://archiveofourown.org/works/50552137
~~~
[The video opens with a shot on Tweek’s face, with the camera slowly zooming out.]

The year is 2007. America is in the middle of the Supers Insurgence, a phenomenon that occurred that caused many citizens to gain superhuman and impossible features and feats. Crime has risen to an all time high as police can’t keep up with new methods. Of course in the midst of this sudden crime wave, one man emerged to answer the call to justice, Mysterion.

For a little over a decade, this cloaked vigilante roamed the streets of Denver, fighting to keep its citizens safe for one more night and bring these evil doers to justice. His presence sparked a new generation to crime fighters, most notorious being the hero group Freedom Pals and the later seceded Coon and Friends. Regardless of your opinion of the man, there is no question that his work has impacted the Denver area for the better.

Mysterion announced his retirement just three years ago, his announcement also came with the reveal of his true identity, 27-year-old Kenneth McCormick. With his 30th birthday just around the corner, I have asked Kenneth if he would be willing to do an interview with me to answer some frequently asked questions.”

[The camera pans out, revealing Tweek and Kenneth sitting at a table in the middle of an empty, fancy restaurant.]

“He said he’d agree if we’d treat him to dinner.”

“You know that’s not the only reason why I agreed.” Kenneth snickered to himself.

Tweek shot him a pointed glare before looking back at the camera, continuing, “As I’m sure you are all aware, even after all these years this man is still Mysterion, and is still very capable of harnessing the powers of the outer gods and kicking all of our ***** without any effort at all. So to counteract any attempt to harm me or my colleagues,” Tweek pulled out a glock from under the table, cocked it, flipped off the safety, and pointed it at the man in front of him, who seemed unphased, “I’ve taken the liberty of acquiring some self defense.”

[Loud mumbling could be heard behind the camera as the whole crew seemed to shift everything back a few feet.]

“I take it the boxing thing didn’t pan out well?” Kenneth wondered.

Tweek rolled his eyes, “Oh right, like me punching you is going to do anything.”

“You know that’s not going to work, right? How much do you want to bet it’s not even loaded?” Tweek didn’t even hesitate aiming at Kenneth’s shoulder and firing, sending the man flinching back slightly as his face screwed up in pain. Everyone else in the room began to panic, tension rising sharply as people shouted and scurried around the set trying to keep things from completely falling apart. Tweek, meanwhile, reset his aim as Kenneth placed his hand over the bullet hole, staring at it in shock as he pulled it back covered in blood. He looked to Tweek with a wide smile, juxtaposing the other’s hard, focused stare and the dire seriousness that plagued the crew members. “Holy ****, I’ve missed you.” he whispered in astonishment.

Tweek turned to look at a camera, a professional smile forming almost instantaneously, “Hi! I’m Tweek from Buzzfeed, and today we’re eating with Mysterion!”

[A title card appears on screen, the text “DINNER WITH HEROS: MYSTERION” written in a bold, fun font. In the background, Ken: “Do you do this with every guest?”. Tweek: “Only the ones I like.”]
—
[A crew member is seen finishing up applying bandages to Kenneth’s wound, taking the first aid kit that was set on the table with them as they walk off camera. Ken is heard muttering a ‘thanks’ as they leave.]

“So Kenneth, let’s get to the questions.” Tweek looked at a stack of notecards in his free hand.

“Kenneth? What are you, my father? You can call me Kenny, ya know.”

“Right, sorry.” Tweek muttered before speaking clearly, “So, what made you want to be a hero in the first place?”

“Well, I grew up in the poor part of town, and that kind of environment sticks around with someone. I had seen the worst of what people had to offer right outside my door, and yet there was one person who helped steer me from going down that path: my sister. At first, I put on the mask so that I could make the world better for her, to make her feel safe and protected, but as time passed, it grew to the people of South Park to the people of Denver all the way to the people of Colorado and beyond.”

“Let’s talk about your colleagues, The Freedom Pals. What are your thoughts on them?”

“Oh those guys are the most bad*** people you’ll ever meet. While there were a handful that made me want to beat them to death with a hammer -not naming names-, it was an amazing experience getting to work alongside all of them.”

“And what about your nemesis, Professor Chaos?”

“Chaos? He’s a lowkey super cool guy. After fighting him for so long, we unwillingly knew a lot about each other that we eventually became friends. He eventually gave up the whole ‘take over the world’ schtick, and we still talk to this day.”
—
[A title card with the text “STEAK TIME” shows on screen. Tweek: “Hope you’re hungry.” The two are shown eating their meals consisting of steak, mashed potatoes, and broccoli. Tweek is seen struggling to cut his food with one hand.]

“You shouldn’t take your eyes off your target, Tweek. You of all people should know that.” Kenny’s smugness was met with an icy glare.

“Shut up,” Tweek grunted out in frustration, “I’m not in the mood for you to get smart with me.”

“Aw, but that’s what I do best!” Kenny watched on as Tweek continued to struggle for another minute. “Are you going to put the gun down, or am I going to have to cut your food for you?” Tweek finally sighed and placed the gun on the table, ignoring Kenny’s cheery smile. The two went about eating, with Tweek continuing the interview with questions about Ken’s social media.

“You know you could’ve just brought me McDonald’s.” Kenny pointed out once Tweek had finished asking about his trip to Hawaii back when he was 23.

“Don’t be picky, Ken.” Tweek chastised, “Plus, it doesn’t look good on camera to feed a former hero fast food.”

“No I get that, but this is still fast food. You guys just DoorDashed some steak dinners.”

Tweek put his fork down as he stared at Kenny in astonishment, a smile slowly working the corners of his mouth, “Are you ****ing kidding me? You can’t just sit there and expose us like this!”

Kenny covered his mouth as he laughed, “You want me to expose you, huh?! We aren’t even in a restaurant, this is a ******* set!”

[The camera fully pans out, showing the warehouse behind the restaurant backdrop and stage lights hanging from the ceiling.]

Tweeks shoulders shook with laughter as he buried his head in his hands, “No place wanted to have an ex-vigilante be in their establishment and risk a villain trying to attack you! We had to improvise!”

Kenny slammed his fists on the table, “When will the lies end? How deep does the rabbit hole go?”

Tweek dropped his fork on the plate and picked the gun back up, “Keep asking questions and you won’t be around much longer to hear the answers.”

Kenny gave a playfully fake gasp as he put his hands up, “Oh my god!-”
—
“Do the two of you have some sort of history together?” Bolded text appears on screen as one of the producers asks from behind the cameras.

Kenny’s eyes brighten, “Oh yeah, do we!”

“We knew each other a long time ago, back when he was still in the midst of his whole hero thing.”

“We had sort of a Batman and Wonder Woman thing going on.”

“More like a Superman and Lois Lane thing.”

“Of course you’d call it that.” Kenny muttered just barely loud enough for the mic to pick up. There were a few beats of silence as the conversation began to turn sour.

“But, like I said, it was a long time ago,” Tweek waved his free hand dismissively, “Mysterion had his responsibilities and I had my career. We just didn’t have enough time to dedicate to something more…serious.”

“I mean, it has been a few years since I’ve seen you,” Kenny drew circles into the tablecloth with his finger, “I hope you didn’t get too rusty.”

Tweek smirked smugly as he gazed at Kenny with knowing eyes, “I should ask the same about you, Mr. Retired-Superhero. Are you too busy day drinking and playing golf to go train?”

“Well what do you say I conduct my own personal interview back at my place?” Kenny waggled his eyebrows and flashed a charming smile, “I can show you personally how I train.”

Tweek shot Kenny’s other shoulder. “Son of a *****!” Kenny grunted as he grabbed his new injury.

[The end screen title card flashed onto the screen, with loud, peppy outro music playing in the back. The video ended with the signature Buzzfeed logo before cutting to black.]

Twerk is worried Craig's been replaced by a doppelganger after he went missing for a couple days but no one believes him and decide to send him to a mental asylum(alternative: no one believes him until he goes missing too, go wild!!)

you know... ratatouille the movie but with mr. possy

Homophobic homosexual Craig tucker(is he a pastor here?) heckling at famous actor Tweek Tweak who's doing a press run in the town of South Park while hes filming a new movie there. Tells him hes going to hell when Tweek stops right in front of him and kisses him, telling him "Now you're going with me." Cue gay panic creg. Maybe the kiss goes viral on the internet. Please add bath Time somewhere in here and maybe Craig fantasizing about holding hands with this cute guy he was mean to ;-;

tweek somehow develops or already has anorexia/bulimia (maybe he used to be a chubby kid or people kept commenting on how cute he is because he’s tiny and wants to keep it that way, worried craig will think he’s ugly) and as time goes on, his friends start to notice but it takes craig a while to understand because he’s in denial about it or just slow in using context clues. preferably around 15-18 (high school)

After Kenny realizes that Kyle remembers Mysterion's death, he has to decide whether or not to approach Kyle as Mysterion again.

This is kind of inspired by that scene in Ass Burgers (15x08) where drunk!Stan called Kyle a piece of shit causing Kyle to leave, then said "wait, I love you", only to call Kyle a piece of shit again when he came back.

Stan and Kyle get together and everything is amazing... until Stan starts abusing Kyle in drunken rages behind closed doors. Surprisingly (or unsurprisingly, he is obsessed with Kyle after all), it's Cartman that notices first.

Anything with trans woman Kenny please!

The boys have been planning a boys night, but Cartman pulls out at the last minute saying he's "busy". Kyle, Stan, and Kenny decide to follow him to find out whats more important than their boys night. They find Cartman doing a drag show, and he's good.

Featuring Stan as the uncomfortable straight dude, Kenny as the no questions asked supportive friend, and Kyle as the "holy shit, I didn't know I was into that" love interest.

What it says on the tin.

Stan's immediate (and unfortunately homophobic) reaction to Kyle coming out to him is "I'm not into guys", "do you like me?!", "did you ever look at me in the locker room?", etc.

+ Points for Kenny and/or Cartman to be on the LGBT scale somewhere.

(OP is a personal fan of Kyman, so if anon wants to add another bad reaction of "you're with Cartman?!" OP would love the added angst.)

5 times Kenny is visited by a dead character before being reborn, plus 1 time he got to bring another person back with him.

Would love to see Christophe/The Mole as one of the characters, but no preferences on the others.

After Butters and Cartman start dating, Cartman will do anything to keep Butters happy.

+1000 points for oblivious!Butters thinking the reason no one bullies him anymore is because everyone is impressed that he managed to bag *Eric Cartman*. (They're not, they're just terrified that if they upset him the main ingredient in their next meal will be their parents.)

DNW: Any abuse from Cartman to Butters.

When Tweek is asked out by Craig Tucker of all people, it couldn't be more obvious that it was some sort of prank. But two can play at that game and Tweek makes a plan to humiliate Craig first.

Meanwhile, Craig can't believe he's finally going on a date with his crush.

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General Prompt Meme

Kevin S. & Craig, bro consultation

Stan/Tolkien (ft. Creek as cats), pet dates

Kyle/cartman , slowburn, enemies to lovers

Craig/Tweek , angst

Re: Craig/Tweek , angst

Craig/Tweek, fluff, canon-aged

Tweek/Craig, angst

Tweek/Craig, one-sided love, betrayal

Stan/Gary, loaded conversation

Craig/Tweek, fucked up meetcute

one-sided Stan/Kyle, failed romance

Stan/Tolkien: First Smoke/Shotgunning

Re: Stan/Tolkien: First Smoke/Shotgunning

Re: Stan/Tolkien: First Smoke/Shotgunning

Re: Stan/Tolkien: First Smoke/Shotgunning

craig/tweek A.I.

Bebe, day in the life

Kenny/Kyle, cooking

Craig/Tweek, homoerotic tension, kissing, longing. with metro Creek

Re: Craig/Tweek, homoerotic tension, kissing, longing. with metro Creek

Re: Craig/Tweek, homoerotic tension, kissing, longing. with metro Creek

Re: Craig/Tweek, homoerotic tension, kissing, longing. with metro Creek

Craig & Kyle, fake dating gone wrong (but not sexual psh amateurs)

Bebe & Henrietta, doing each other's makeup

Kyle/Nichole, basketball

Craig/Tweek, possessed coffee machine & convenience store clerk

Tweek & Kenny, superhero/villain interview

Re: Tweek & Kenny, superhero/villain interview

Tweek/Craig , doppelganger, mental health, horror

Kenny/Mr. Possy, ratatouille

Craig/Tweek, actor, gay repression, bath time !!!

craig/tweek eating disorder

Mysterion/Kyle, Kyle & Kenny - Angst, Kyle remembers Mysterion's death but none of Kenny's

Stan/Kyle, Kyle &or/ Cartman - Stan is abusive, Cartman notices first

MtF Kenny - The real reason Kenny wanted to be Princess Kenny

Kyle/Cartman - Crossdresser!Cartman, the boys find out

Kyley-B/Cartman - Cartman liked Jersey Kyle a bit /too/ much.

Stan & Kyle, Kyle/Any Male Character - Stan reacts badly to Kyle coming out

Kenny - 5+1, Every time he dies Kenny is visited another dead character

Butters/Cartman - Whipped Psychopath!Cartman

Craig/Tweek, misunderstandings, first date