south_park_kink_meme ([personal profile] south_park_kink_meme) wrote2022-11-28 01:13 am
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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


Unfilled Prompts


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Re: Stan/Tolkien: First Smoke/Shotgunning

(Anonymous) 2023-01-03 12:58 am (UTC)(link)
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.

Re: Stan/Tolkien: First Smoke/Shotgunning

(Anonymous) 2023-01-03 01:44 am (UTC)(link)
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!

Re: Stan/Tolkien: First Smoke/Shotgunning

(Anonymous) 2023-01-06 06:39 pm (UTC)(link)
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)
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