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rosebushstuff · 3 months

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The Bitch With The Same Name As Me

Francis was sitting in class, bored out of his mind. He ran a hand through his slightly disheveled brown hair, which he hadn't combed because, well, he woke up 30 minutes before school started and he'd somehow rushed here in a not-so-good mood. So there he sat, in the classroom, staring at his desk. There was nothing particularly interesting about the greenish-blue colour of the wooden table, but Francis stared anyway, thinking about his history homework and how he really didn't give a shit about World War II.

Francis was starting to doze off, tired after a lot of work (if work means playing video games until 3 in the morning), when suddenly he heard a noise. He looked up and saw a blonde-haired man wearing blue-tinted sunglasses entering the room. It took him a second to realise it was PC Principal, and a slight bout of irritation flared up in his mind. After all, that was the guy who'd consider anything you said a microagression, and Francis thought of him to be nothing more than an annoying tryhard piece of shit. "What's the guy got to say this time?", he thought to himself.

The middle-aged man cleared his throat before going on. "Kids, you all should know that this weekend is the special-ed science fair. And, uh..." PC Principal flipped through a document before looking back up again. "Someone called Francis Myers has been selected to be one of the judges at the science fair. Is there a Francis Myers in this class?"

Francis, on hearing his name, jumped up. "Uhh, I'm Francis Myers." He said sheepishly.

"Alright then. Please show up at the venue of the science fair at 11:30 AM on Saturday, and don't be late." He said, before leaving the classroom, and leaving an extremely bummed out Francis behind.

Fucking bullshit...

On Saturday, Francis was at the science fair, waiting for it to begin. He felt...bored. Mind-numbingly bored. That was something Francis felt often, but now he was feeling it ten times worse than he usually did, when he suddenly saw somebody walking up to him. Francis blinked a few times and looked at the person.

It was a girl, with short red hair, and she was wearing a pristine-white lab coat. Her blue eyes met Francis's hazel green, and for the first time ever Francis felt his heart skip a beat. What the fuck?

"Hi." The girl said to him, and Francis snapped out of his slightly lovestruck daze. "Hey." He replied back in a tone he hoped was chill enough for the girl to think he was cool. "You're one of the judges at the science fair, right?"

"Yes...I am." He said, but he was distracted by how... cute she was. She has little freckles underneath her eyes, one of which was squinted, and she had red hair. Francis always had a thing for redheads, although he'd dated a few brunettes before, and the red complimented her face perfectly, but just as Francis was looking at her like a lost puppy, she said something again.

"What's your name?"

Francis had almost forgotten his name for a second because of the slight nervousness he felt but he went ahead anyway. "It's, uh, Francis. Yeah." He sputtered, and the girl giggles a little. "Oh, wow, my name's Francis too. Nice to meet you, Francis."

"... Nice to meet you too, Francis." He said, and the girl laughed again. Francis couldn't help but think her laugh was sweet.

Just then, the science fair began, and Francis went to judge the projects.

There were tons of them, ranging from an impressive machine that could use solar energy and convert it into battery to charge electric cars, to a piece of...burnt toast. Someone called Mimsy had submitted that, and Francis rated it a 1. Francis was starting to feel that sense of boredom again, when suddenly that pretty red-haired girl walked up and showed her project off. It was kind of basic - a Coke and Mentos volcano, and the two other judges rated it a 5, but seeing her bright, radiant smile as she explained her project was enough for Francis to rate her a 10.

Francis, (the red-haired girl, to be precise) beamed at her rating, but...she didn't win. Some kid called Jimmy did. She seemed slightly dissapointed, and Francis noticed that. He walked up to her and tried to break the ice.

"Uh...hey. You look kinda sad." He said. "Don't worry, there's always next time. I think your project is pretty cool."

"Really?" She perked up. "Thanks."

Francis decided to bite the bullet and ask her out. "So...uh...any plans later today?" He said, his eyes darting around the room nervously, but surprisingly..

"No, not really." She said. This was his chance!

"Wanna go to the movies with me later today?" He said. He'd have to use that extra ticket for Francis, making a mental note to apologise to Brimmy..."It's a Terrance and Phillip movie, so, I get if you don't want to-"

"Are you kidding? I love Terrance and Phillip! Of course I'll go!" She said. Francis noticed the slight blush on her face, and he smiled at her, and she smiled back.

Suddenly, she said something again. She tucked a strand of her bright red hair behind her ear before going on. "Uh... this is the first time a guy has asked me out before." She said.

"Really?" He tilted his head in curiosity. "You're a pretty girl. I wonder why." Francis's face became just as red as her hair. "You're way too nice, Francis." She half-whispered.

Maybe judging at the science fair wasn't that bad after all.

Wow, to be honest I didnt expect someone to make a fanfic based on one of my posts but thanks!

#south park #sp francis #fanfic #ask #sp fic

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gideonthefirst · 6 months

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Red Right Hand, Nefarian Serpine and Skulduggery Pleasant, 2k

The first day, Skulduggery Pleasant was out of jokes. Nefarian Serpine hadn’t been expecting that. When he’d lingered outside the door to Pleasant’s cell to watch him through the cracks in the wood, to relish in the moment, he’d seen the way the man’s shoulders were taut, the way he held himself standing and motionless despite the pain the manacles must have been causing him in that position, the way he stared forward, unblinking, unblinking. He’d seen that all but, still, had been prepared for a quip. Some insult about his hair, perhaps, or about the quality of the dungeons. “Is this really Mevolent’s finest?” Pleasant would open with. “We must be even closer to winning than we’d thought, if this is all he’s got left.”

Continue here.

#skulduggery pleasant #skulduggery pleasant fanfiction #sp #nefarian serpine #valkyrie cain #derek landy #sp fic #my writing

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fayoftheforest · 7 months

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Deny Me And Be Doomed - Chapter One Up Now!

How do you cope with a stranger wearing your best friend’s face? Professor Chaos’ dreams come true when he successfully jumps to a seemingly defenceless reality, intent on wreaking havoc. Only the mild mannered Kenny McCormick knows the truth, and he’s far too meek to pose any real threat to the chaotic cause… right? Meanwhile, Butters finds himself in hot water, surrounded by a group of caped crusaders who are convinced that he’s America’s most wanted criminal mastermind.

Read it now on AO3!

#south park #sp fic #south park bunny #sp bunny #sp mysterchaos #sp mysterion #sp professor chaos #sp kenny #wip: deny me and be doomed #this has been in the works for SO LONG i hope you guys enjoy :))

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ihearttweek · 9 months

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craig could not possibly explain to anybody how he got into this situation. if you had told him this is what he would’ve been doing three hours ago, he wouldn’t have believed you.

it had started with tweek coming over for the afternoon, like he did on most days. and that turning into a sleepover,…like most days. he stayed the night a lot, if anything, it is now expected that he does. craig’s mother had opted to just regularly grocery shop and cook for an extra person a few years ago. she really is awfully fond of him in general. every single day without fail, she will pinch his cheeks and grab his face to begin planting kisses all over while she murmurs to him. in the end, he’s left with lipstick smudges and a shy smile plastered on his face. he’s too polite to ever wipe them away in front of her. and also, somewhere along the lines, craig began keeping all of tweek’s stuff inside a drawer in his bedroom.

craig decided a long time ago that he didn’t really mind. he supposed tweek wasn’t so bad. when they were little, craig thought he was a little weird— and not to say that he totally isn’t. but, behind all of that, he’s pretty cool. he’s a good listener, a bit of a people pleaser, for sure. he’s funny, he’s really smart, too. craig most definitely would’ve been failing without him. he’s cooler than clyde by a lot, he was the tiniest bit actually glad that tweek was the replacement for him when it came to sleepovers. he’s cooler than a lot of his friends. he’s way cooler than a lot of other boys, really.

but totally not in a gay way. that was completely out of the question. he and tweek just keep saying they are, but they’re not really like that. craig definitely has never wanted him to actually be his boyfriend, he isn’t really gay. no way in hell.

well, anyway.

tweek’s laying next to him. their fingers are interlaced, craig knows that tweek likes this. likes the way craig stroked the back of his hand with his thumb. he said once it helped him sleep, and craig liked that. craig’s got his back to him, and he’s a bit concerned. he wasn’t making any noise. craig was dubious about if he was even breathing. he wasn’t too sure of how tweek sleeped, anyway, because usually he was out before him. but tonight, he was a little restless. stuck pondering.

“tweek?” craig whispered behind his shoulder. he turned his head and grunted as he flipped his body over. tweek’s eyes were drooping, and they fluttered closed. he vigorously squeezed them shut and mumbled something low and sleepily, craig wasn’t too sure what he said. he had his cheek smooshed into his arm. so when he lifted up, there was a faint little line there. craig blinked at him. “sorry, were you asleep?”

tweek rubbed his eyes, huffing when he opened them to give craig a hard stare. craig dumbly blinked again. he couldn’t help but let out a little giggle. eventually, tweek joined him. tweek inched a tad closer, their shoulders bumped. craig pulled the comforter over their heads, scooting down further so he could be completely covered. tweek made a little grunt in protest, but then he hummed, padding his fingers on the bed to find his phone. he turned on his flashlight.

on the top side of the comforter, it was a deep navy blue that went well with most of the color scheme in his room. for his eleventh birthday, it mysteriously isappeared from his bedroom. when it was given back, his grandma had embroidered constellations all over the bottom.

on some nights, they’d go under it and craig would name new ones every night until tweek fell asleep. other times, they’d tell secrets. or just talk aimlessly, didn’t matter.

craig looked over at tweek, rolled onto his side. he was giving craig an expectant look. craig looks confused, and tweek gave a small smile.

“what?” tweek raised an eyebrow playfully at him, and craig nervously chuckled a little. craig propped himself onto his elbow, pressing his weight into his wrist. for some reason, his chest felt tight. his mind blanked momentarily, completely forgetting what he was getting. his previous thought process completely drained, what words was he looking for? had he and…mouth to…fuck.

“like- cpr.” no, god damn it. that isn’t it. and now tweek’s staring at him a little funny. “i meant- not the resuscitation part but like, the mouth to mouth. you know?” in attempts fo make it better, those were still not the correct words. and, shit, he was stammering. he didn’t know where this nervousness was coming from. or why he was even thinking aloud. or why he was thinking of this in the first place. he had this down in his mind and this sounded perfect up in there but they weren’t articulating from his mouth. he wishes he could go back a full minute and shut up and speak about stars instead.

“i’m…not following.” tweek mumbled tiredly, intensifying his glare. craig rubbed his face and had to force himself to look away.

“okay,” he had to take a moment to breathe. “okay. kissing. we’ve kissed before, right?”

“on the cheek.” it took a second for him to respond. and if anything, it sounded more of a question. he gave a pause every time tweek spoke because he was anticipating for him to ramble about how craig was confusing him. but it didn’t come. but honestly, he wish it did, because the silence was awkward and making everything so much worse. he was mentally spiraling.

“i mean…shouldn’t we, like, properly?” craig finally looked back at tweek. craig wished the light were off. tweek just silently had his eyebrows furrowed, staring right at him. the direct eye contact was making it even worse. but then tweek smiled a little, a sort of warm, good softness coming to his eyes. something swarmed within craig’s insides. it fluttered from his stomach to rattling in his ribs to coming up his body and he thought he was gonna need to puke. but he didn’t. which in turn made him confused. he was sure he was staring at tweek a little dumbfounded.

“so,” tweek began. he was rubbing at craig’s bedsheets, feeling it between his fingers. “you’re asking to kiss me?” craig subconsciously spaced out, just staring stupidly at his face. he was waiting and waiting for tweek to flip out on him, ramble on about how that is— ‘way too much pressure’. or just, literally react in some way that is more than he’s showing. but tweek’s lips didn’t budge, not even a little. and oh, shit, he’s staring at his lips. don’t do that.

“yes.” his brain is failing him. backtrack. “no! i mean- like, people might start asking…questions?”

“and you suddenly…care?” tweek mocked the tone he used. he still had a smirk plastered on his face. craig was mentally dying. and the way his body was feeling practically feverish- you could say physically, too.

“no. no, no! it’s- i don’t want to kiss you! but we’re getting older and whatever and don’t you think that would raise questions? i’m just…” he was spluttering. tweek had wordlessly came out of the covers, sitting upright. before craig could do it himself, tweek peeled if off of him, tucking them back neatly and looking down over him. craig wished the lamp wasn’t on. “…it’s taking authenticity into consideration— tweek?” tweek carefully maneuvered himself over craig, directly able to meet his face. craig went stiff. and without meaning too, his voice came out small.

tweek tentatively brought his hand to caress craig’s cheek, and brushing a bit of his hair back. his smile softened. everything about this was, soft. when tweek’s hands weren’t shaking, they were gentle. if shit wasn’t already petrifying, tweek brought his face closer, shifting his body a little bit. he is full on straddling him against his bed. okay, maybe this looked a little gay. but it is not like that.

he’s seen tweek from this close before, sure, and everytime, his body felt weird. right now, he couldn’t move. he was just staring. tweek slid his thumb over his cheekbone, and he got goosebumps. he felt his body get a rush of warmth, blood rushing to his face. he was absolutely, unequivocally captivated, a dazed, starstruck expression in his eyes. tweek leaned closer. close enough to where craig could feel tweek’s hair tickling his forehead.

craig finally moved and relaxed his body. it felt, despite having tweek literally on top of him, somewhat safe. and comfortable. instinctively, he reached his hand to brush back some of tweek’s hair, too. this made tweek smile a little bit more, his teeth showing. craig let out a shaky breath.

“okay.” craig took a moment to register it, he blinked hard. he could literally feel his breath on his face. his eyes unfocused and he blankly looked at the freckles smattered across tweek’s cheeks and nose. when they were younger, he let craig take an invisible ink marker and connect them like constellations. tweek laid his head into his lap, hair sprawling out onto his pajama pants, and craig shone the light onto his cheeks. tweek was looking at him intently with curious eyes. craig remembers his body tensing up and his stomach coiling like how it was now.

“huh?” his voice was fucking trembling.

“i’ll kiss you.” tweek was suddenly whispering. and, oh, right. “for…authenticity, sure.” his tone of voice was laced with fondness. and, it seemed teasing, almost. craig didn’t really grasp why.

wait.

was this genuinely happening? holy shit. craig’s palms got sweaty and he self consciously, which was really strange for him, pulled it away. tweek caught his wrist with his other hand and tugged it back to his side.

“okay.” craig quickly nodded. he immediately noticed that he sounded way too eager. “if— if you want too, i guess. this is just-“ but tweek shushed his useless rambling. he kept his hand still on craig’s cheek, and dropped craig’s hand that was in his other. instead, he steadied it on his shoulder. craig’s heart pounded right into his ears as tweek leaned in. tweek had closed his eyes, his eyelashes casting shadows over his cheeks. craig studied his face.

tweek is, pretty. he thinks.

and that’s a terrifyingly, fully conscious thought.

he doesn’t really know what that entailed. he’s never explicitly thought of anything human as pretty. he thinks sunlight filtering through blinds is pretty. he thinks snow glistening in the coming of spring is pretty. he, apparently, in his swarming mind, thinks tweek is pretty.

the thought isn’t that welcome. the thought worsens his nerves. it doesn’t make him feel cliché butterflies. it feels like there’s a swarm of infuriated bees attacking his fucking insides. it makes him feel sweaty and fuzzy. it, somehow, makes him tingle with something good. tingle with some underlying awakening hunger.

tweek reminds him of a star. the way his stupid hair frames his stupid face. his skin is so pale it’s practically translucent. he might as well fucking be.

tweek reminds him of stupid cringe metaphors. that is scarier. tweek is so, pretty. craig can’t even come up with stupid metaphors anymore. he’s got a slender face, a bit mousey, bruised eye bags, pale green eyes, a slim button nose. but he is pretty.

and he wants tweek to kiss him. where the fuck is this all coming from?

tweek slightly tilted his head. craig widened his eyes and followed his direction without thinking. because, hell if he could properly. when he anticipated their lips to meet, they didn’t, their noses collided gently instead. tweek pulled back a little, eyes fluttering open. craig felt as though he was going to melt right into his mattress. and, actually, that sounded nice.

tweek stared at him. and then he let out a surprised laugh. he was smiling. all of his awkwardness has dissipated. if craig thinks about it, it never was really there for tweek. this all seemed so casual for him. it was so unlike what he was used to. he never had experienced tweek so confident. craig likes this. likes it a lot.

“sorry.” craig croaks out. tweek shook his head, he let his fingertips graze down to hold his chin firm.

“here, just stay still.” and craig did. he went completely rigid again pursed his lips into a thin line. tweek leaned in again, in a slightly divergent direction of craig’s face. he stroked his jawline with his pinky, and carefully pressed his lips to his. craig held his breath.

tweek’s lips, despite being a bit chapped from nibbling on them, were soft. craig sort of imagined them this way.

he wasn’t sure how to feel about acknowledging the realization that he has previously thought about what his lips would feel like.

craig didn’t really know what to expect kissing to feel like. in media, it looked like clashing together. sometimes it looked sloppy. but this… was nice. really, terrifying. but, nice. tweek tilted craig’s chin back a little bit, and pulled back enough to speak.

“relax, man.” he mumbled against his lips. it tickled a little bit. “you kind of have to move your lips, too.” now, tweek telling him to relax was pretty abnormal.

“…sorry.” craig repeated, practically inaudible.

“it’s okay. you seem…uncomfortable,” tweek looked him directly in his eyes. craig forgot how to breathe. “…are you uncomfortable?”

“no!” craig’s voice was exasperated. his reply was far too quick. tweek fucking smiled again. “no…just keep- keep kissing me.”

“okay.” tweek brought both arms to hold around craig’s neck. not tightly, almost like he was sort of cradling his head. he shifted his body further onto his chest. “do something with your hands dude. you’re fucking stiff as a board. it’s- ngh- making me nervous.”

really fucking seems like it. is what craig wanted to snap back. but he didn’t. every little ounce of smugness he had garnered up before died in his throat. craig inarticulately nodded, and shakily grabbed for tweek’s waist. tweek seemed content with that, because he immediately was back to kissing him.

craig lets his body ease up, finally. his lips soften against tweek’s and he accidentally let a shaky breath out through his nose. he stops gripping onto him so hard, and subconsciously just rubs his fingers up and down his sides. he strokes him gently, similarly to how he does to his hand to put him to sleep.

tweek pulled away, testing with a few minuscule pecks. once, tweek pulled away and looked down into craig’s eyes a little expectantly. craig hesitated, breath catching in his throat, and it was his turn to lean in now. he haphazardly missed his mouth, instead pecking the corner of it on accident.

in eagerness— or, to save craig any more embarrassment, he wasn’t sure which one— he caught his lips again. tweek experimentally, and very carefully, swiped his tongue over craig’s bottom lip. it caught him a little off gaurd. tweek’s lips parted a bit against his. oh.

tweek gently let go of his hold around his neck and instead grabbed his face again, cupping his cheek’s. craig’s hands sort of longed to touch under his shirt. he just wanted to feel him. surges of so much was just happening all at once and all of it came back with a the same screaming feeling of want.

tweek’s thumb gently pried open craig’s lips to be parted just enough, and craig somewhat got the hint. he unsteadily moved his tongue into tweek’s mouth. tweek hummed and craig swallowed it into the back of his throat. it sent strange vibrations through his body. he could feel the way their breathing mingled on each other’s faces as tweek pulled him impossibly closer. their lips melded together.

to be fair, sticking his tongue into somebody’s mouth wasn’t as strange as he expected. he didn’t know why he was even following his expectations anymore, because they’ve all failed him again and again. though, he strangely didn’t feel like complaining. tweek caressed the apples of his cheeks and tipped his head back so he could crash back into him.

it felt good. felt indescribably right. tweek was carefully probing around his mouth, and it took a bit for craig to really process how to kiss back. when he was, he let himself get loose. he pushed all the self consciousness to the side and simply, melted.

he grazed one of his hand’s underneath tweek’s shirt, just to feel his waist. and tweek didn’t move away like he anticipated. no, not at all. he leaned further into him. like he was encouraging it.

okay, making out with a boy in his bed. touching him. nothing…unusual about that. pretty normal.

craig hesitantly started tracing into his skin. tweek’s skin is really cold.

tweek was making small gasps against his lips. he also slid his tongue along his teeth an accident and craig felt him pull back a little, he was just murmuring into his lips again. tweek pressed his forehead against his, turning his face so their noses wouldn’t bump. he was panting.

“your-,” he shut his eyes. relaxing his body into craig, sort of lazily, his hold on him became less firm. “you have braces.”

“…yeah?”

“ngh—it makes it a little more awkward to kiss you when there’s metal scraping my tongue!” that’s what made it awkward for him? but, again, he couldn’t find the confidence to make any snarky comments whatsoever. tweek still seemed to be clinging to that teasing demeanor. it made craig sickly flustered and his brain swarm. stupid fucking bees.

“sorry.” and it seemed it was the only thing he could utter tonight. he was internally scrutinizing his own voice, he sounded…feeble, stupid. he felt small, suffocated a little.

but not entirely in a bad way, actually.

if craig is sure of anything, he is sure his head is legitimately fucking spinning. he’s never felt so nervous in his damn life. or confused.

he wants tweek to keep kissing him.

his body somewhat feels like it needs to do all sorts of things with tweek. but he more or less ignores that thought.

stupid. fucking. tweek.

this is the hardest he’s ever thought about anything in a while. this is the hardest his heart has beaten in a while. fuck, the cliches are getting to him. he has a really, really pleasant fluttering inside his stomach.

tweek kissed him again. he threaded his fingers into craig’s hair. touch made it better. he had, slowly, gotten more accustomed to the motion of sliding his tongue around his mouth— that sounds awful, but the fuck else do you call it? it delved into somewhat of a slow, careful series of this.

tweek sort of just tastes like…mouth? all the times he’s wondered what he might taste of, and that fact becoming apparent to him is a lot scarier than him thinking about the feeling of his lips. he anticipated him to taste like coffee, or of things sweet in general.

maybe that’s also cliché. fuck. fucking, fuck.

but he tastes like saliva. and mint toothpaste. and nothing really worth thinking of this much. but it’s insanely intoxicating for whatever stupid reason. he really, really is completely pissed off at his brain currently. he isn’t too sure why he’s been dropping these bombs on himself. it seemed like some weird form of self sabotage, torture, even. he really didn’t know.

he was also becoming too hyper aware of himself that would be on anybody’s acceptable comfort levels. craig was really wondering how he tasted.

he truly wondered why he cared.

but there was a little itching in the back of his brain, whispering that it was completely normal and valid to be kissing his best friend, fake boyfriend, tweek. nothing …homosexual at all!

so, he let that take over for the time being.

somewhere in the midst of it all, tweek popped off his lips again. when craig opened his eyes, tweek was peering at him through his eyelashes. his face was flushed, and craig took a daring little peek at his lips. they were kiss-bruised and obscenely covered in saliva. and something within craig just sort of bursted.

a million thoughts flowed freely through his head, too rapid to process fully. damn, was he slobbering on him that much? that’s embarrassing. became a little loud. tweek scooted back off him, to sit more on his stomach. but perhaps, the most prominent thought being;

“did…was that-,” craig lost the line of silent in his head thoughts versus spoken out loud ones. “did that mean anything?” and then came the overwhelming feeling of “oh. shit.”

and probably for the first time in this entire interaction, tweek looked shocked. his sleepy eyes went bright and wide, staring craig directly down. craig swore he legitimately saw his fucking eye twitch. he- to be fair, very lightly punched craig in the arm.

“AGH! what. the. fuck? that’s all it fucking took?” did he sound frustrated? craig’s sense of shame heightened and mentally tucked himself back away into the blankets.

“huh? i-“ but tweek shushed him. very aggressively too.

“i’ve been trying to get you to get a fucking clue for years craig.” he squeezed his eyes tight. “and all it took was me kissing you? i would’ve kissed you so long ago.”

“…huh?” he parroted. tweek suddenly firmly grasped craig’s shoulders and shook him a little. craig jumped a little and looked at him wide eyed too.

“craig.” he said between his teeth, he sounded almost desperate. no, that wasn’t it. just a little whiny. “you’re fucking— so genuinely, extremely gay, dude. you’re the most oblivious person on this god damn earth and i’ve been waiting so long to realize that i’m like- in love with you, and you just- it never fucking clicked!” he stopped shaking him. “yes, it a hundred percent did mean something. everything has meant something to me. everything i’ve done for you has always meant ‘something’, craig.”

and for a long time, craig just blankly stared at him.

“oh.” craig murmured stupidly. tweek blinked at him, once. and then twice. and then he wrapped his arms back around him, pushing himself close.

“shut the fuck up.” tweek gave him a look that was both genuinely terrifying and horribly attractive. craig felt like he was a cartoon character about to gulp obscenely loud after facing something scary. god damn it, again with the similes. he looked at him in what could only be described as in awe.

he said a small, barely audible, ‘okay’, and then tweek was kissing him again.

✩

#ao3 #creek #fanfic #south park #sp craig #sp tweek #sp creek #sp fic #sp fanfiction #south park fluff #fluff and humor #silly

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1moreoffkeyanthem · 3 months

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Enjoyers of kysterion, kyshed, style, k2, Stylenny in general!!!!

Fluff enthusiasts!!! TFBW enjoyers!!! Seekers of domestic sappiness!!!

May I present:

The Trials & Tribulations of Caring For Your Injured Non-Hero

#ope I wrote a thing #south park #sp fic #stylenny #style #stenny #k2 #kysterion #tfbw #ot3 #the Whumpshot Wizard strikes again #one shot #fic link #ao3 #ao3 shit #my shit

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lexusmart1n · 11 months

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the greatest creek fic writer of all time deleted their account and all of their works. think im going to be sick…..

#im talking abt captaindude #if anyone has a cheeky little link or copy of any of their stories pls send it my way👀#I won’t repost it or anything it’ll just be for private usage #tweek x craig #sp creek #sp fic #creek fic #im genuinely so upset

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bluebutbetter · 4 months

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I had the honor of doing a cover for A Better Place Is Right Here With Me by TwilightFlares.

It's a masterpiece!! Please read it, I'm so proud of my wife!!!

#sp #sp style #style #fanfic #fic #sp fic #sp fanfiction #stan x kyle #kyle broflovski #stan marsh #cover art #ao3 fanfic #twilightflares #my art

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nightttdreamers · 1 year

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But I Thought They Burned the Hot Topic Down / Stan x Kyle

here is the last chapter of my vampire au style fic! sorry it took so long haha pretend it hasnt been almost a year. anyway, i hope you guys enjoy this angsty little read <3

Ao3 link | 11k words | 3/3

It's Kyle's graduation party and everything sucks. But it would suck way less if Stan decided to show up.

Kyle is 18. Stan is still 17.

He’s sitting at his kitchen table, staring down at a sheet cake that definitely has freezer burn, reading “CONGRATULATIONS KYLIE” in garish green frosting. His mother is in the kitchen with his uncle, who is trying to talk the woman down from calling the Whole Foods and demanding their manager. Her shrieking overlaps with laughter coming from Kenny, Butters, but mostly Cartman, who’s wiping real tears from his eyes. Ike’s already taken plenty of photos of the cake, as well as Kyle looking miserable next to it.

He doesn’t care that the poor, probably underpaid, Whole Foods employee misspelled his name, or that everyone is being an asshole and either laughing at him or raging about the fact that he’s being laughed at. As he stares down at his name and the sickly sweet cake that is likely dry as cardboard, all he can think about is how much better he’d feel if Stan was there.

It’s his graduation party and his boyfriend didn’t even show up.

“Hey, hey,” shouts Cartman in between fits of laughter. Kyle knows what’s coming, he’s made this joke twice already. “Hey, Kylie! When are we gonna dig into this sweet cake?

“You shouldn’t cut it just yet,” Cousin Kyle pipes up from his seat beside Ike. Because if having a graduation party didn’t suck enough, his mom also had to invite his extended family. “If they made a mistake you might be able to refund it, custom icing is expensive you know.”

Kyle stares at the knife beside the cake and contemplates lobotomizing himself.

Before Cartman can say something anti-Semitic about Kyle Schwartz’s remark, Kyle Broflovski shouts to the kitchen. “Mom! I’m cutting the cake now!”

“Are you sure, Bubbeh?” Sheila asks as she pokes her head back into the dining room. “You won’t be able to cross out your name for good luck.”

Kyle lets out a sigh, looking back down at the cake. He sticks his index finger into the icing and smudges the “i,” just to appease his mother. “There, now it’s Kyle.”

Sheila raises her hands in surrender and calls (well, shouts) for the rest of the family to come in for a photo. In the clamor of summoning the relatives from the living room, Kenny leans in beside him.

“Your mom,” he whispers, right into Kyle’s ear. “She looked nice at graduation. How’re things with her and your dad?” Beneath the table, Kyle stomps down on Kenny’s foot as hard as he can. In response, Kenny clamps a hand down on his shoulder, giving a tight squeeze. “That’s not discouraging me, man.”

Kyle glares at him as Sheila corrals his relatives into the room. His friends step aside as the Broflovski clan files in behind him, each of them remarking on the shoddy craftsmanship of the cake.

“Mrs. Broflovksi, I can take the photo,” Kenny offers. It’s mesmerizing how his smile can look so innocent to Sheila, but turn completely smug when he glances at Kyle.

“That’s so sweet of you, Kenny!” His mother chirps, handing him her phone. “Kyle, why do you look so glum? Ike, stand closer to your brother.” She crosses the table, giving both her sons a pinch on the cheek.

“Give us a smile, Kylie,” Kenny says as he holds the phone up. “Lookin’ great, Mrs. B.”

Kyle flips him off quickly as he tries his best to put on a smile. There is an out-of-tune chorus of “cheese” as the picture is taken, and then everyone disbands for cake. Under the table, Kyle texts Stan.

K: We’re doing cake now so if you want to come we’ll be past the food part

K: Or you can keep ignoring my texts and not come at all. Whatever.

He takes an angry forkful of the slice his mother has placed in front of him and shoves it into his mouth. It tastes like shit.

Two hours later, he hears the ding from his phone.

He’s lying on the floor of his room with Ike, who’s going through his graduation cards. Most of the guests left after cake, except his grandparents and the Schwartz family, who all flew in. Luckily, his parents didn’t want to deprive Kyle of a room when the party was for him, so his extended family will be sleeping in Ike’s room and on pull-out couches and air mattresses.

“Your phone went off,” Ike announces as he tears open another card. “Dude, Aunt Helen gave you fifty bucks. Shouldn’t it be fifty-four?”

Kyle breaks his streak of being face-down for the last thirty minutes to look over at his brother.

Ike looks down at him, holding up the cash. “Increments of eighteen. For good luck. Whatever, fifty is still pretty good.”

“Can you hand me my phone?” Kyle asks, rolling onto his side. They’d agreed that Ike would hold on to the device since Kyle couldn’t stop compulsively checking it for a reply from Stan.

Hesitantly, Ike hands it over, watching his brother’s face as he opens the notification.

It’s from Stan.

S: i suck i know

S: lets go for a walk? im outside

“What did he say?” Ike asks, gathering all the money he’s collected into a neat pile on the floor.

“He’s outside,” Kyle replies, sitting up. He rubs his eye with the heel of his hand and tucks his phone into his pocket as he stands up.

“Oh, cool. He sleeps over like every single night but he’s four hours late to your graduation party,” Ike says, leaning back against the bed.

“When did you become my relationship guru?” Kyle asks as he grabs a sweater from his closet.

Ike rolls his eyes. “Rude. I’m taxing you for that,” he says, pulling a $5 off the top of the pile.

Stan is hunched over, sitting on the curb when Kyle steps outside. Even though it’s June, he’s layered up in a hoodie, jacket, and beanie, looking like a dark, misshapen lump in the dim street light.

Kyle watches him for a minute, just staring at his back. It’s a lot easier to be pissed at him over text, not when he can see just how small he looks, waiting outside for him. He walks closer to him, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

Fuck, he should’ve expected the puppy-dog eyes when Stan turns around.

“Hey, dude,” Stan says as he stands up, a soft smile coming to his face.

“They spelled my name wrong on the cake,” Kyle responds, brows knit together as he looks at his boyfriend.

“What?” Stan glances towards the house, then back to him.

Kyle exhales, then repeats himself. “They spelled my name wrong on the cake. They wrote Kylie. Everyone thought it was hilarious. And Kenny was hitting on my mom, the freak. And Cousin Kyle was there. It was the worst party ever.”

Stan looks at him with a sympathetic expression. “Kyle-”

“And you fucking missed it,” he spits out. It’s so hard to stay mad at Stan, but Kyle has to force himself for a moment. He can’t let him think that he’s okay with how tonight went.

“I know,” Stan says, reaching a hand out. “And-”

Kyle steps back. “I don’t want to hear it, Stan. I don’t want your stupid excuses, I don’t care! You could’ve at least texted me back.”

“Babe, come on-” Stan tries to speak again, and Kyle has to turn away just to avoid that sad look on his face.

“Don’t babe me right now, not after ignoring me all day.”

Stan pinches the bridge of his nose, mumbling something under his breath. “Look, Kyle,” he begins, then lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry. Like, seriously so fucking sorry, I’ve been the worst today, I know. I just… I really don’t want to fight with you right now.” He places a tentative hand on the back of Kyle’s arm, gently turning the redhead back towards him. “Please?”

Kyle’s expression scrunches up for a moment as he takes a deep breath. “Fine, okay,” he says, which brings a smile back to Stan’s face. He shrugs Stan’s hand off of him, then takes it in his own. “I’m really not happy with you right now, though. But, whatever, we don’t have to fight.”

“Walk with me for a bit,” Stan says, giving his hand a squeeze.

The two of them head off like that, wandering around their lame old town with no particular direction in mind. It’s late enough that they can walk hand in hand without fear of running into someone. Kyle’s not too worried about that anyway, since he knows that he’ll be off to school across the country come the fall. Stan graduated too, just barely. They’re both pretty sure the district just didn’t want to spend the money on holding a student back, especially if the student performed at a steady mediocre rate. It’s not something they like to talk about much, though.

Kyle laments about the party and Stan offers his commentary on the cake debacle, how he would’ve slapped Cartman upside the head, and how glad he was that he didn't come in the window like he usually does, since Ike is staying in Kyle’s room tonight. He’s not sure how long they walk for, but eventually they make their way to Stark’s Pond.

“Shit,” Kyle murmurs. “It’s kinda cold right next to the water, right?”

And, because sometimes he actually is a good boyfriend, Stan immediately slips his denim jacket off. He even drapes it across Kyle’s shoulders for him, a gesture that Kyle finds insanely romantic. “Better?”

Kyle slips his arms into the sleeves, nodding. “Thanks.”

Stan gives him a small hum as a response as he walks over to one of the benches next to the pond, Kyle following behind him. The two sit down, and Kyle can’t help but notice the distance Stan’s put between them.

In the moment of silence between them, Kyle has plenty of time to overthink about the fact that Stan’s been avoiding him all day, took him out on a late-night walk that they never do, and is now trying to sit as far as he can from him.

“What are we doing out here, Stan?” Kyle asks, feeling his chest begin to tighten up.

Stan keeps his gaze on the water, idly twisting his hands together in his lap. “I’m really sorry I didn’t come tonight, Kyle.”

“Yeah, I thought we were done talking about that,” Kyle responds tersely.

“I know. I just, I dunno, I’ve been thinking a lot about graduation and being done with school and everything.”

“Do you,” Kyle starts. They’ve both taken turns trying to talk about this for the last few months, but the conversations never get too far before one of them changes the topic. Though the subject has been weighing on him, it was nice to ignore it for as long as they could. “Do you know what you want to do?”

“I have to leave,” Stan says, though he doesn’t sound too convinced of this. “I know that I have to. My mom’s already asking if I’m malnourished, I can’t keep walking around looking like this.”

Kyle frowns, knowing just how much Stan resents being stuck in his seventeen year-old body, never being able to grow out of it. “You could stay for a bit longer? No one will really question you for a few years, maybe you could…” He lets himself trail off as he watches Stan. There’s a hollowness to the other’s expression that tells Kyle he’s not really listening.

“I really hate this,” Stan mutters. He leans forward, resting his head in his hands. “I hate everything so fucking much. I’m so tired of being like this.”

Kyle moves in closer, lifting a hand to rub Stan’s back. “I know, Stan. I get it-”

In an instant, Stan is on his feet, still turned away towards the pond. “Do you really, though?”

“What?” Kyle asks, hating how small his voice sounds right now.

Stan turns to him, wearing a resentful expression that Kyle doesn’t recognize on him. “You don’t get it, Kyle. You can’t. You could never possibly get what I’m going through.” Stan’s voice begins to waver as he speaks, the way he strains to try and cover it up is audible. “My life is over, Kyle! Fucking literally,” he remarks with a scoff. “I’m dead. It’s actually over. I’m never getting older, I can’t see my family anymore, I can’t go to college or get a job. Fuck, I’m never going to be able to get into a bar, because I’m stuck like this!”

“Can you stop yelling at me right now?” Kyle asks, fighting every urge he has to shout right back at him.

“I’m not-” Stan cuts himself off, then looks down, almost self-consciously. When he speaks again, he’s quiet. “I didn’t mean to yell. Shit, this isn’t,” he sits back down on the bench, right beside Kyle now. “This isn’t how I wanted this conversation to go.”

“I don’t pretend to know what you’re going through, Stan,” Kyle says, taking his turn to stare out at the water as he speaks. “I know that I don’t get it. But I’m trying, always fucking trying just to help you.”

“I know you try.” Stan reaches out, placing his hand atop the fist that Kyle has balled in his lap. Slowly, Kyle laces their fingers together.

“Why don’t you just come with me?” He asks, turning to look at Stan. “In the fall, come to school with me. Everything can stay the same. Except, I guess we’ll be dealing with our parents way less. But, no one will know you, if you keep a low profile you can probably stay for a while, and then, I don’t know. I don’t know, but we’ll work it out.”

It’s something that’s been on Kyle’s mind for a while, and probably the reason they’ve never gotten far with the post-graduation talk. They aren’t just some high school sweethearts, their bond is so much deeper than that. The thought of being away from Stan, especially since they only just got back together after all those years, might actually be the worst thing Kyle can imagine. He’s entertained the fantasy of Stan coming with him for a while now, though he hasn’t found the courage to actually mention it until now.

But, Stan is quiet. The tight feeling in Kyle’s chest grows stronger, making its way up to his throat and then higher until his eyes start to sting. Stan’s hand feels like a stone in his.

“Please, Stan,” Kyle says softly, unsure of what he’s even asking for.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Stan says, his grip on Kyle tight. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“Just come with me,” he pleads, and it feels almost degrading. He’s begging his boyfriend to stay with him, but he doesn’t even care. “I told you I would help you figure this out. Come, and we’ll keep figuring it out.”

“Be realistic, Kyle-”

“None of this is realistic!” Kyle nearly shouts. “You’re a fucking vampire, Stan. This entire situation is not real. But we’re dealing with it, right? Just stay with me, keep staying with me. You can feed on animals and I’ll always be there to clean you up. You won’t even have to sneak through my window anymore.” Kyle reaches out and grabs Stan’s wrist, pulling him in so they��re fully facing each other. “Tell me you’ll stay.”

When Stan turns his face towards him, there’s tears streaking his cheeks. Almost immediately, it triggers Kyle’s eyes to water too. The silence between them is all the answer he needs.

“Kyle,” Stan breathes out. “I can’t keep living like this. I’ve-” His voice gets caught in his throat as he holds back a sob. “I’ve hurt people.”

He feels himself shift, body stiffening up. His voice is tight when he asks, “What do you mean?”

Stan looks at Kyle’s chest as he speaks, his head dipping down. “In the woods, when I go out. Sometimes, in the middle of everything, I can’t even tell what I’m doing, all I know is that I’m so fucking hungry.”

“What did you do, Stan?”

Stan shakes his head, the motion almost frantic, like he’s trying to deny everything he’s confessing. “There were these hunters, t-they mistook me for an animal. They tried to attack, and before I even realized it, I-I drained one of them.”

It’s easy to forget what Stan is. Rather, it’s easy to ignore it, let it fade into the background. But as he speaks, Kyle can feel just how cold Stan’s hands are in his.

“The other one,” Stan continues. “He got away. I don’t think he told anyone, who would believe him that he saw a teenage boy fucking maim his buddy?”

Kyle lets go, standing on shaky legs. He supposes ignoring the fact that he’s dating an undead immortal with a thirst for blood this entire time hasn’t been the best idea, as he’s having quite a hard time processing what he’s just heard.

He hears Stan come to his feet behind him, but they both know better than to initiate touch again right now. “Kyle, that was it, I promise. I’ve been trying so hard to hold myself back. I-I never wanted to hurt anyone. But, I know that I can’t go on like this much longer. I’ve never felt more… I don’t know, it was like I was finally awake. The more time that passes since him, the less control I get over myself.”

Kyle stares out at the water, colored black in the moonlight. It feels almost right in a twisted kind of way, just when he finally has the boy he’s wanted his entire life, something has to pull them apart. They stand in silence for a while, and though Kyle has a million things he wants to say, solutions, apologies, pleads, he knows what’s going to happen.

All those stupid vampire movies they watched were complete bullshit.

This can never work.

“You can’t stay with me,” Kyle says, trying his hardest to keep his voice steady.

“You know I wish I could,” Stan replies, taking a tentative step towards him.

Kyle begins to turn to him, gaze focused on the ground. “Not just when I leave for college. This is-” He can’t help it, the tears begin to fall. “This is it, isn’t it?

Stan nods solemnly. “When I go, I can’t come back. I need to figure this out on my own, learn how to control myself. I-I can’t risk hurting anyone, especially you.”

“It doesn’t matter how hard I try to help you,” Kyle says, mostly to convince himself. “You can’t just hide in my room forever.”

“I’m doing this to protect you,” Stan insists. “You can still live a normal life. Go to school, meet new people, get the fuck out of this stupid town. I can’t- I can’t hold you back from that.”

“It’s not fair,” Kyle says, shaking his head. “I don’t want a normal life. I don’t want a life without you. It’s not fucking fair!”

They both seem to fall into each other, wrapping their arms as tight as they can around the other. He grips Stan’s hair as his face crashes into the crook of his neck, clinging to him with sheer desperation. Kyle lets himself sob. He cries so hard he starts to get dizzy, letting the embrace of Stan against him become the only thing he can feel.

The dark-haired boy presses his lips against him, the top of his head, his temples, in touches that aren’t quite gentle enough to be considered kisses. In between each, he whispers apologies.

Every time Kyle thinks he might be done, pauses to catch his breath, he starts crying all over again. He doesn’t care how long they stand there for, because he knows why Stan is holding him so tightly, knows it deep in his heart; This is their goodbye.

It’s Stan who pulls them apart, just enough so that he can look down at Kyle. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Instead, Kyle speaks up. “I wanna be with you,” he says. “One more time, please.”

They come together again for a kiss, and Stan places a gentle hand on the hem of his shirt and drags him back towards the woods.

Their walk back to town is silent.

Kyle’s head hurts from crying, and every part of his body is sore from lying in the woods, but these sensations all feel numb to him. He tries to focus on the feeling of Stan’s hand in his own and drown out everything else.

When they approach the Broflovski household, their movements both slow. But, there’s only so long that they can delay the inevitable.

“I love you,” Kyle says, somewhat blurting it out. “I wish-” he pauses, feeling like he might cry again. “I wish it was different, Stan. I’d do anything to make it different.”

The soft smile on Stan’s face is an image that Kyle knows he’ll never forget.

“Thank you for trying,” Stan says sincerely. He takes a step back, their hands still connected between them. “I love you. I’ve loved you my entire life, and that’s never going to change.”

“This sucks,” Kyle says, the infectious smile on Stan’s face finally reaching his own.

It earns a laugh out of both of them. “It sucks so bad. Can you just,” Stan squeezes his hand. “Promise me that you’ll go and live your life, okay? And, this is kinda selfish-” The expression of guilt on Stan’s face is so childlike, Kyle thinks back to that night when they were twelve, kissing for the first time in the middle of the street. “Can you promise me you won’t forget me?”

It’s not living if you’re not there. I could never forget you, Kyle wants to say, but he just nods, leaning forward to place one last kiss on Stan’s lips.

“Goodnight, Kyle,” Stan says, and Kyle decides to pretend like this is just a normal night, and that when he wakes up Stan will be there again. He’ll kick Ike out of his room and fall back asleep against Stan’s chest, the two of them ignoring everything else in the world.

“Goodnight,” he replies, voice barely even a whisper.

The feeling of Stan’s fingers slipping out of his is torture. He watches the love of his life turn away and walk into the night.

Epilogue

The letter is placed in his mailbox. No postmark, no return address, just “KYLE” written across the front.

Dear Kyle,

I think its been like, maybe 6 years since my last letter? Jeez you’ve gotta be 36 or 37 by now. It’s starting to get hard to keep track of time, which is something I’ve heard happens. Anyway, you’re super old. I was thinking the other day about you (I mean I think about you like every day but this was a specific thought), wouldn’t it have been so weird if we stayed together? Youd be this old dude and I’d literally be 17. That’s not even legal! I hope enough time has passed where I can joke about this. If not, sorry lol.

Things are cool over here in Stan land. I found another person like me, probably about a year ago. She was cool, we hunted together for a few months, but decided to split. Shes only the third vamp Ive met but it seems like everyone agrees its best if we dont stick together for too long. Its really nice to know theyre out there, though. She was telling me how she likes to pretend shes drunk at bars, lets guys takes her home, and then drains them. I thought youd think that was pretty cool, and its probably the most ethical way to select victims Ive heard so far (like theres such thing as ethically choosing victims- I shouldnt decide who lives or dies I literally dont even know how to pay taxes). Im sparing you details, but I am letting you know that im sustaining myself the best I can.

You know what I also thought about the other day? You still have my jacket! You asshole!!!! That was literally my favorite jacket I miss it!! Whatever you can keep it. You looked cute in my clothes anyway. Well maybe not now in your gross old man body (loser).

Im just passing through your neighborhood on my way to somewhere Im not disclosing, but I probably wont be back for a while. If you dont hear from me, I’m not dead (thats not happening anytime soon), but Im going to try and explore a bit more. Random thing, I picked up a guitar and started busking? Its actually pretty fun, I forgot how much I missed writing songs. Its pretty easy to forget about those kinds of things, but I thought youd appreciate that Im rediscovering old passions. I guess thats why I decided to write you.

I hope youre doing well. I really do. Im sorry I cant give you this in person. Maybe some day, but not yet. I get that its not really fair to write to you and not give you a way to get back in touch. Sorry if this is immature (dont forget im only 17), I just miss you. I cant lie and tell you that Im not doing so much better since I left south park. Yeah the first few years were rough but for the first time in a while Im kind of hopeful. I dont know, something feels different. Maybe its me. But I know that I owe so much of who I am to you, so I wanna say thank you. For helping me and being kind and patient and slapping sense into me when I needed it. And most importantly, thank you for loving me. I still love you too.

God that was SOOOO GAY. Im imagining you reading this and laughing at how fucking gay this letter is (btw, when the fuck did people start getting tolerant? Where was this shit when we were together????). Okay Im being stupid again. Ill stop this now. Guess i'll talk to you again soon? Whenever that ends up being.

Your super best friend forever and ever,

Stan

#south park #sp fic #god i hate tagging please ignore this im so bad #stan marsh #kyle broflovksi #sp style #fanfiction #fanfic #vampire au #angst #romance #boys kissing #kenny mccormick #eric cartman #i guess butters is there #oh fuck #ike broflovski my child #i give up on tags #god this is so sad

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jackalopes-pen · 10 months

Text

Phone calls

Summary: Michael has been dead for a year now, and Pete is struggling with the death of his friend. He copes by leaving him voicemails, however he feels a wave or shock when someone returns his call.

Fandom: South Park ( aged up) | Goth kids (Henrietta Biggle, Pete Thelman, Firkle Smith, Michael ... Tall one)

A/N: First time writing south park fanfic! Lemme know if it is shitty or not, really trying figure out how to write these characters before I get a larger project under way.

Word Count: 1,281

Pete was well aware that this was not very goth. To leave voicemails on his friend's number that would never be heard was so stupid. He still did it, though. Still scrolled down to Michael's name and called waiting for the answering machine just to hear his voice. He still left some update on their lives and how the world still turned without him. He told answering machine about how that song he wrote hit the top 10. He told the machine that they were gaining popularity as a goth band, and that the name he suggested was the one they signed with. Sometimes he just cried after the tone, unable to process.

Today was so much worse then other days. Today it had been one full year since he died. He died to someone else's hand in a hate crime not even to his own. His tombstone read that he was a 'great daughter'. Fucking bigots. Pete kneeled down to the stone, and put a tapped note over daughter, reading now "A great son, friend, and unfortunate martyr." He would have apricated that, right? Pete stood back, on the path staring at the grave. He put the phone to his ear, staring down the flowers of someone who was supposed to answer.

One ring, two rings, three...

"Hey. This is Michael, I'm kinda busy so leave your name I'll consider getting back to you. Unless you're a conformist." the recording stopped with a tone. Leave a message... another message.

"Hey Michael, it's Pete. Just wanted to let you know that I came back to visit you," Pete could hear his voice breaking as he continued "Tried to fix that stupid mistake on your stone. Those conformists can't even let you rest in peace? They really are assholes. Anyway, call me back when you can. I miss you."

Pete slipped the phone back in his pocket. He wanted to stay at that grave for an eternity and hope something would change. It wouldn't though, he knew that. He talked himself into leaving, going to his car and driving to his shared apartment with Henrietta and Firkle. They'd probably get onto him for this and tell him to move on. It's hard to move on damn it. Give him time.. or more time.

"Hey, I'm back." Pete said as he entered their apartment.

"Went to visit him?" Henrietta said from the couch, writing something in her journal.

"Yeah, if you're gonna give me shit can you save it til tomorrow?" Pete responded, flopping down the couch beside her.

"Not today. I know it's hard and all. If this is how you handle it, then so be it." Henrietta said, clearly more focused on her lyrics.

"It's almost poser-ish is what it is," Firkle said emerging from his room with drum sticks in hand. "He's gone, let it go."

"It's easy for you to say! We were close, and I just-" Pete stopped his rebuttal when his phone rang in his pocket. He took it out and froze as he saw the caller.

"What's up with you?" Henrietta said, suddenly perking up.

"He's.. he's calling me back." Pete said, some mix of happiness and confusion and fear all churning in his stomach.

'Well, answer it!" Firkle said impatiently.

Pete did just that. He swiped to answer the call and quickly put it on speaker. He set the phone down on the coffee table, almost scared to hold it in case it was a dream or something. They all waited in silence, for whatever was on the other end of the call.

"Hey Pete, sorry I couldn't answer earlier. Whatever though. I'm at the good CVS on fifth, you need anything?" It was Michael's voice, loud and clear. The sounds of shitty drug store music were barely audible through the phone. It was him.. it had to be. "Hello? Are you about blast a chord again?"

"No, no. I'm here. How- uh... how are you?" It was pathetic but it was all Pete could muster. He wanted to say a million things to him, but couldn't find the words for any of it.

"Uh.. could be better, could be worse. You good, red? You sound like you're talking to a ghost." Hearing that old nickname was enough to break him a little on the inside. Only Michael called him that, and he still was calling him that.

"I'm- I'm good. Do you mind being on speaker? We're all here, about to start writing."

"Nah, I don't mind. Glad the band took off though, that's pretty fucking impressive."

"Your song helped us out a lot, I wish you could've written more." Henrietta finally spoke up.

"Yeah, you know.. not really my decision about the whole thing. I did hear you guys used my name idea. I thought it was pretty bad but, I guess if it works." Pete was so confused at this point. He seemed to know he was gone, but here he was on the phone. Pete almost wanted to run to the CVS and look for him, even though he'd probably find nothing.

"Hey, while you're there.. can you pick up some of those gummy bears? We're running low." Firkle said, tentatively. He was trying to play into the daydream.. maybe Pete should. Maybe this was the casual conversion they never got to have. That last talk.

"Sure, kid. Anything else? Hen, you still like those chocolate pretzel things right?"

"Yeah- yeah. I can pay you back for them." Henrietta was close to tears. It was rare that he called even them their actual names to their faces. These old nicknames.. it hurt to hear them again.

"You don't have to. Red, you?"

"Oh, can you see if they have Marlboro? I'm on my last pack." Pete felt the lump in throat grow. It was such a normal conversation, with a dead man.

"Sure, yeah. Okay, well I'll see you guys whenever. And, red?"

"Yeah?" Pete's voice broke on the ending constant.

His tone was suddenly solemn. "I miss you too, I miss all of you and I wish I was there. Thanks for the voicemails, I might try to leave you some."

The call was hung up. The silence was deafening, as they stared at Pete's phone until it turned to a black screen. It only reflected the popcorn ceiling of their apartment. In some ways, it was a relief to know he wanted to be here and in others a pull to Pete's heart that he wasn't. This could have been their everyday.

But it wasn't, and it never would be.

About 15 minutes later, the doorbell rang Pete almost prayed it was him but, it was just a CVS bag of what they asked for. One bag of gummies, chocolate pretzels, cigarettes, and a bag of the coffee that he used to brew before writing. Of course he'd pick that up, it was a writing session right? Pete noticed on the receipt, paid for with Michael's card, something else they asked for: more writing.

It was a complete song, and a that moment Pete was so glad CVS had insanely long receipts. It was a song about loss, comparing the death to crow that continued to follow the singer. The song went through the 5 stages as it continued, ending in accepting the crows presence.

It would take more time and thought then some lyric's on a CVS receipt, but Pete knew a hint when saw it. He picked up his guitar, and made a promise with it. This is honoring the death, because it did happen. It would only get easier to admit it, every time he played.

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