#’hey Craig check out this beat I just wHAT the FUCK IS THAT’

[girlypop-m0thra-supremacy]

First time seeing a mammal

[underworld-park-offical]

CRAIG: Wait holy shit

CRAIG: My fucking phone

CRAIG: Guys

CRAIG: My phone

CRAIG: IT WORKS

EVERYONE: UGHHHHH

TOLKIEN: Well if your phone works, that could be the plausible explanation as to why the intercoms are still functional while the power is out

CRAIG: Okay ate Shakespeare

CRAIG: Atespeare

TOLKIEN and TWEEK: You are so annoying oh my god

TOLKIEN: I want to kill you just for that

TWEEK: If you want to kill him I'll hold him down

TOLKIEN: Deal

CRAIG: Oh woah

CRAIG: Spooky

CRAIG: It's giving back rooms

TOLKIEN: Craig did you just say owo?

CRAIG: I am going to beat you up

TOLKIEN: Nevermind

TWEEK: What

TOLKIEN: Oh its nothing

TOLKIEN: Just ignore him

CLYDE: Woahhh

CLYDE: Guys there's like

CLYDE: An echo now!

CLYDE: Hi Clyde! (Clyde! Clyde!)

CLYDE: This is so cool (cool cool cool)

TOLKIEN: Since when did our hallways get so….

TOLKIEN: Creepy?

TOLKIEN: Tweek, this happened when you got here

TOLKIEN: Are you an alien?

TWEEK: NO??????????

TOLKIEN: Demon?

TWEEK: NO?????????????????

TOLKIEN: Huh

TOLKIEN: I'm out of ideas

TOLKIEN: ….

TOLKIEN: Stan would have a field day with you

CLYDE: Stan would

CRAIG: Oh yea, I'm totally recording that when it happens

TWEEK: Can I get a puddin out of it?

CRAIG: Sure

CRAIG: I can venmo you the money for it

CRAIG: Do you like

CRAIG: Have venmo?

TWEEK: What the fuck is venmo???? CRAIG: Not you not knowing what venmo is

CRAIG: Loser

CLYDE: Yoooo thunder crackling right now

CRAIG: (records) Hey guys welcome back to my blog and sorry that the cam quality is so ass

CRAIG: There's currently a power outage out at the school

CRAIG: Its not giving

CRAIG: Anyways

CRAIG: Make sure to like and subscribe for more

TOLKIEN: ARE YOU FUCKING FILIMG THIS RIGHT NOW???? 

CRAIG: Yeah, so?

TOLKIEN: What do you mean, so?!

TOLKIEN: There's nothing to even film, it's dark as shit

CRAIG: Doesn't mean there can't be content

TOLKIEN: I swear.

TOLKIEN: TO GOD

CRAIG: Lmao Tolkien you're right

CRAIG: The cam quality is so ass

TOLKIEN: See? I told you

TOLKIEN: Fucking queer

CRAIG: I am

CRAIG: LITERALLY

CRAIG: Not gay

TWEEK: Hey uh

TWEEK: Guys?

TWEEK: Shouldn’t we like…. check to see why the intercoms or whatever you're calling them are doing that? CLYDE: Yeah! Oh my god you're so smart

CLYDE: That's like

CLYDE: Not normal behavior.

TOLKIEN: Ahem

TOLKIEN: Clyde

CLYDE: What????

TOLKIEN: I am

TOLKIEN: Right here

INTERCOM: ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ OOOOH  ╧╧╧╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ D ╬ R ╬ A╬M ╧ AAAAA╬ ╬

INTERCOM: ╬ ╬ ■ C╒╬O ╬N╬TROL ╧  ■ ╧ YOUR ╬ M╬ A╬ N╬ ╬ ╧ ╒╒╒╒ ╬ ■ ■ ╬

CRAIG: Omg

CRAIG: I'm so putting this on my blog

TWEEK: Read the room, dude…

TWEEK: Read the fucking room

CLYDE: This is the one time I hate the morning announcements

TOLKIEN: The only time you like the announcements is when they announce Pizza Fridays, babe

CLYDE: Shhhhhh

CLYDE: I mean you're right but shhhhhh

TWEEK: But seriously, we should go

TWEEK: I think someone of some kind of authority would have come over by now

TWEEK: We should like

TWEEK: Check it out or something…

CLYDE: You're so right, Tweek

TOLKIEN: Clyde.

TOLKIEN: I am

TOLKIEN: RIGHT here

CLYDE: So….

CLYDE: No thruple?

TOLKIEN: NO

CLYDE: Ah…

CLYDE: Rats….

TWEEK: Shut up Clyde, nobody likes you

CLYDE: Wuh- buh-

CLYDE: BUT YOU LISTENED TO ME RANT ABOUT NIGHTCORE?????

CLYDE: I THOUGHT WE HAD A MOMENT??????????

CLYDE: I THOUGHT THERE WAS A SPARK?????????????

TWEEK: Aren't you taken?

CLYDE: …

CLYDE: Oh yeah…

TOLKIEN: Porkchop

TOLKIEN: Sweetheart

TOLKIEN: Love of my goddamn life

TOLKIEN: You are

TOLKIEN: So stupid sometimes

CLYDE: But you love me for it~

TOLKIEN: Debatable

CLYDE: WHAT?????

TOLKIEN: I'm kidding, you goober

TOLKIEN: ....maybe

CLYDE: TOLKIEN DON'T TEASE ME LIKE THAT

TOLKIEN: I can't resist it, ya know

INTERCOMS: ╬ ╬╬ ■ T╧ ╬ W■ ╬ ■ EE╬ ╧ K■ ╧  ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╬ ╧ ╧ ╬ ■ ╬ ■ ╬ ╒ ╒ ╒

TWEEK: Guys, the intercoms…

CLYDE: Right right

CRAIG: This is not giving right now

CRAIG: Do we like

CRAIG: Have too?

TWEEK: I would say so

CRAIG: Literally why smh

TWEEK: Because they just called my name!?

CRAIG: What do you think I am?

CRAIG: A mechanic?

TWEEK: Yeah but still…

TWEEK: I think the longer we stay here, the more likely we are to get murdered or something?

CLYDE: WAHHHH I DON'T WANNA DIEEEEE

TOLKIEN: There there, you won't die

TOLKIEN: But if you do I'll bury you in dinosaur bones like you've always wanted

CLYDE: And play my favorite nightcore playlist at my funeral?

TOLKIEN: And play your favorite nightcore playlist at your funeral, yes

CLYDE: Good, Good, by the way, babe, do you know where the generator room is?

TOLKIEN: No, why would I?

CLYDE: Cuz you're like

CLYDE: Super smart and stuff

TOLKIEN: Aww…

CRAIG: Rizzler moment!

TWEEK: Should be to the left

TOLKIEN: How do you know that?

TOLKIEN: You just got here

CRAIG: Not Tweek being a sussy baka rn

CRAIG: Smh

CRAIG: Omg hold up

CRAIG: Who

CRAIG: Who is getting in the middle of the recording right now?

TWEEK: Your mom

CLYDE: Hehe, nice

CRAIG: This is NOT a slay right now

CRAIG: Get this British away from me

PIP: Shut the fuck up you crusty motherfucker

PIP: I always hated your two tone Google chrome metrophone megaphone ass

PIP: And that's saying a lot because I hate all of you

PIP: But it was always the influencer I didn't like

TOLKIEN: Nobody likes influencers

PIP: True, but this one was the most insufferable

PIP: Craig_The_Real_Bitch, Right?

CRAIG: *Craig_The_Real_Tucker

TWEEK: Did he just say the asterisk out loud????

CRAIG: Yes, I'm correcting him, that's why I said *Craig_The_Real_Tucker

TOLKIEN: He does that alot

TOLKIEN: We’re desensitized to it at this point

PIP: God why do you say all these underscores

PIP: You aren't a blonde crop top wearing bimbo you overrated sonic the hedgehog wannabe

PIP: Now anyways,

PIP: Turn off that goddamn phone

PIP: Pretend this is the movie theater!

PIP: Have some class, fuckface

PIP: Pay attention when I am talking to you

CRAIG: No <3

PIP: …

PIP: Fine then, I’ll just turn off that phone myself

PIP: Better yet, I'll break it

CRAIG: No please my phone is literally my life support

CRAIG: If you break it I’ll like

CRAIG: Totally die

CRAIG: Or something

PIP: Shut that shit and perish

CRAIG: Fine, fine, fine…

PIP: Thank you

PIP: Now that we’ve hit mute on the insufferable prick here

PIP: I'm sure you’re all wondering, “How is he alive right now? Didn’t he get crushed to death???”

PIP: To that I say, you're right!

PIP: I'm not at all alive

PIP: I am in fact, very,

PIP: VERY

PIP: Dead.

CLYDE: WAHHHHUGFYUKGTP(YYIFDIGFYCYIG 

CLYDE: ZOMBIE!!!!!!

CRAIG: Its giving the walking dead

CRAIG: Slay

PIP: Shut up you fake ass botox injected taki munching booty crunching dollar tree ass Charli D’Amealio

PIP:  I am not a zombie, that's just cheesy!

PIP: I am, however

PIP:  ╬A bad motherfucker ╬

(( EDITS MADE BY @pissblanket the backrooms edit was all me ))

[imlivinginyourtrashcan]

Hi hello im a dirty American heres some friendsgiving headcannons for the sp character

Cartman:

That man aint bringing shit

Only there for the food

The type of mf to steal ingrediants while youre cooking something

Dives RIGHT for the pumpkin pie

Nobody is happy

He denies it but its do obvious hes stealing shit 🤬

Does not wait for a toast

Bro just dives in

Getting seconds, thirds, fourths

When hes done theres no left overs

If he were to bring something id be pie

His moms recipe

BUT THIS LITTLE FUCK EATS IT IN THE CAR

Kyle:

Sometimes hosts the friendsgiving at his house

Brings the sparkling grape juice/apple juice

And also the Kosher things

Only has one helping, tries to get leftovers for the family or for kenny

Helps his mom cook when hes hosting

Setting the table always

Tries to toast but ends up yelling at Cartman for eating before hes done

Helps Ike pack for those little kindergarten thanksgivings?

Yknow when you dressed as a pilgrim and ate food?

Was I the only one who did that??

Stan:

He panicks and brings what he can find

"Hey dude! What you bring?"

"Uhhh... leftover mash potatos?"

Hes TRYING

Downing the sparkling juices like no tomorrow

The eggnog too

Cartman encourages it

"CHUG CHUG CHUG"

Watching the football game

RESTRAINS himself when it comes to food

Like, he wants it but knows Kyles gonna be pissed

Plays catch with everyone else

Or pingpong

Doesnt give a fuck about the Macys parade

Kenny:

Brings canned stuff he got from the food drive

Like cranberry sauce

Sneaking leftovers for his family

Plays catch with the boys

Died from a football lodged in his eye

Oh and from the

"Macys parade"

Incident

You dont want to know

Butters:

Brings the sweet potatos

Suggest christmas music/movies be played

Cartman called him gay immediately

So that got shut down

Brings the extra pies and everything since Cartman eats his

Lover of cranberry sauce and other things most people hate on thanksgiving

"Oh that was good! Could I have more please?"

"Butters what the fuck who likes CRANBERRY SAUCE???"

"I do!"

Doer of the toast

Often gets hit in the face when they play catch and cries

Can't stay for long cuz his parents are strict but hes there on video call rest of the time

Craig:

The type of mf when you ask what he brought he says

"My presence"

MF-

No!!!

You need to bring FOOD

They have to kick him out

He comes back with bread rolls or crackers, cheese and olives

So hes aloud back in

Doesnt care abt the parades or catch or anything

Just kinda there for Tweek

If someone asks him to do sonething he'll do it though

Hes limited by meals thanks to his braces

He doesnt care

Thats future craigs problem

Flips someone off if they beat him in a sport

Or flips off the tv when someone does something stupid in football

Has restraint when it comes to food

Bro will just wait

Wait

Wait

Wait

And then devour his plate in seconds

Tweek:

Brings homemade cider or pumpkin spice

Panicked the whole time

Hiding upstairs half the time

At least until food

He looks like a sopping wet cat

Doesnt really eat that much

Convinced the food is poison

Dont try to reassure him either he doesnt trust you

Has to check a million times though

"Is this poison???"

"No???"

"GAHH!! I dont believe you!!"

Leaves after feasting

He can only handle so much

Arrives super late too which is ironic

Jimmy:

Brings the food over and makes a puns

Like puts devil horns on eggs

"Jimmy what is that?"

"D-d-d-deviled Eggs"

Bro is telling thanksgiving jokes every second

Does the toast some years

Its like a stand up comedy routine tho

He lets you eat during that

Sneaking food

Mischievous little bastard

Puts on family fued when he realizes the boys are too pissed at football

Also has brace limits

But does he follow them ever? Nope

Drinks sparkling juice from a wine glass

Able to keep the party going for a WHILE he has ENERGY

Card playing KING

Winning at Crazy 8s left and RRRRIGHTTTTTT

Clyde:

Brought mac and cheese

Either that or bread

Food sneaker

Thinks hes good at sports

Hes not

He gets hit in the face so often

And cries

Tried Tweeks coffee

Started coughing and gagging immediately

Hes a picky eater im calling it now

Like will not eat if he doesnt think he'll like it

Me too Clyde i get it

Likes the Macys parade

Fucking weirdass

Arrives a bit before Tweek but is still late

The mf to get seconds

Wont eat before the event either

Saving his stomach for yum yums

Tolkien:

Also hosts

Helps his parents with food

Makes the dinner table look like a whole buffet

When hes not hosting he brings stuffing or some expensive good food

Or like

Homemade dip?

Casserole?

Idk

Seems like itd change every year

Great at sports

Helps clean up too

Toasts sometimes

Very generic toast

Doesnt seem like someone who has much to say

[mmoxie]

Part 1 - Overnights

The apartment smelled a little strong tonight. While Dani slept the daylight hours away, she had beef and broccoli going in the crock pot. She had a few spoonfuls right away, added some black pepper, and filled a tupperware container with enough to keep her going.

Seebs yowled for some, and she crouched on the kitchen floor to let him sample a spoonful. He selectively pulled a beef tip away from the other ingredients, purred his approval, and retreated to the warm spot on the bed while Dani got ready.

No dress code on overnights. Nobody to impress, nobody looking for the performance of retail-as-art. Just boxes and bottles and a whole lot of time. She grabbed a pair of thin headphones- cheap ones, with their distinctive brown-orange padding and thin silver band- and clipped an honest-to-goodness walkman to her back pocket.

Tonight, Evil Dead was on the menu. An expanded novelization, on tape. She was starting to pay a premium for these things- the internet was such bullshit- but filling her head with visions of Bruce Campbell and gallons of inky black corn syrup for ten hours sounded like a blast.

After filling a thermos with coffee- her old landlord had gifted her a French press, and she treasured it now- it was a five minute drive up Stantz Ave. to the corner of North and Gilbert. And there she was.

Wilson Titlee.

You deserve it.

She parked her '89 Taurus around back and let herself into the employee door with a two-pronged key. The kind you see on security pegs in pharmacies, but here it was on the back door, acting as if it belonged there.

She clocked in and got herself a cheese biscuit from the markdown rack, along with a sweet tea out of the case. She'd pay over lunch, when the self-checkout was turned on by a night manager.

"Put your little hand in mine," the overhead radio called to her, "there ain't no hill or mountain we can't climb..."

Sonny and Cher. And here came Bill Murray, rushing to the front of her mind to beat the shit out of the clock.

"Okay campers, rise and shine! And don't forget your booties 'cause it's COOOOLD out there!"

God damn it, she almost said it out loud. That cheese biscuit had saved her life, plugging her mouth up like that.

There weren't many people to talk to on overnights. You might see Craig, the freezer case guy, working out the ice cream or the Hungry Man dinners. Occasionally Kathy would make an overhead announcement about the self-check being open, or about the security system resetting.

Tonight, her only company was the homeside overnight manager, Pete. Peter Josta. She was patching some holes in the homeside freight schedule for some extra hours on her paycheck, and Peter had assured her, he had a "different way of doing things" and "ran a pretty tight ship."

Whatever, man. It's boxes of post-its and the occasional immersion blender.

She was happy to ignore him, put on her Evil Dead tape, and put her head down to work out a nice, heavy box full of tenpenny nails. Hardware felt just right for these shifts- everything was just a little heavier than you'd expect, and after ten hours of hoisting hammers or shelving buckets of roofing tar, her arms burned good.

Tim Curry was narrating, which always made her grin, and they had even got Bruce himself in the recording booth for a few extra-authentic pops of dialogue. She didn't notice for a full five minutes that Pete was right beside her.

"Hey. Hey!" He waved his hand in front of her face. Strike one.

She pressed Stop and slid her headphones down to the back of her neck.

"Something the matter, Pete? We got an early truck?"

"You're not supposed to wear headphones on the floor. It's a safety issue! What if you run into somebody because you're not paying attention?"

Run into somebody? Who in the fuck-

Gotta argue like he argues. Appeal to authority. An authority he can't follow up with.

"Oh, yeah, uh- my doctor says that I ought to do this. Audio therapy. Whale sounds, pan flute, chimes. I keep it low, but these late nights, working all quiet... it helps keep the mind peaceful, y'know?"

She could see Pete turning that appeal over in his head. He didn't like it. He had come over just to disturb her, and she could tell. This was a guy who usually wasn't in charge of anybody, but he was the "lead." So he should lead, right? He should be in charge. To be told no, that was galling, but... told no by the doctor, well...

"Just... be careful," he said through gritted teeth. "These kinds of things, safety rules, they're uh... you know, they're written in blood. We only get them because someone got hurt."

Dani regarded him with an easy, lopsided smile.

"Thanks for looking out, Pete. I'll keep my head on a swivel."

"You better," he concluded with a firm nod- and then he was gone, disappearing under the dim after-hours light to, Dani prayed, unpack the densest fucking box of pens imaginable.

As soon as he was out of sight, she and her old pal Bruce both said, "Groovy."

And then it was back to nails, screws, and fasteners.

Three hours, one tupperware of beef & broccoli, and six pallets of heavy homeside freight later, Dani was smiling her way to the clock. Many-a deadite had been righteously sawn in half, and all was right with the world.

She raised a hand to the timeclock, then heard her name.

"Dani, could I talk to you for a moment?"

The opening manager, Paula Green, wore a beige vest covered in company-approved pens, and was holding a clipboard. A break schedule, printed on extra-long paper, dangled from it.

Dani nodded and turned away from the clock, and waited for Paula to speak.

"I understand there was a bit of a fight last night. Is everything alright?"

What the fuck is she talking about?

"I didn't hear anything about a fight, Paula. I had my head down in Fasteners & Lumber near about the whole time. I miss something good?"

Paula's expression soured, and she tapped the cap of her red pen against the clipboard. "Pete tells me that you were insubordinate toward him."

Huh?

"I only saw Pete a couple times all night. You know something I don't?"

"He said you wouldn't take off your headphones? You know those are against policy, right, Dani? It's a safety issue. You don't want to put yourself at risk by limiting any awareness of your surroundings."

Dani felt herself deflate a bit, and she held her lips tight together for a moment.

"There wasn't any fight," she replied after a moment. "You know that's not my style. I like to get on my own and do some heavy lifting, and that's all I did for my money this past evening."

"Well, just don't let anything like this happen again, okay?"

"You writing me up, Paula?"

"No, no, just- it's just a verbal, it's not, y'know, disciplinary."

"Alright, well, I'm headed home. Don't have too much fun without me."

Dani knew she didn't sound pleased, but she tried to turn her grit teeth into a forced smile. Who could say if it worked? But she didn't follow up, she punched that clock and got moving before some other bullshit could come up and blindside her. If that was a fight, who knew what else was a fight under that roof?

She rolled down the windows and turned up the radio for the short drive home. Elbow Grease and Sparky were talking cars, after which there'd be a chock-a-block-with-rock commercial-free run of the heaviest hits of the 80's.

The heaviest hits? They got Maiden or Motörhead?

She sighed as Van Halen's "Jump" started to play. At least she was already pulling into the driveway. Heavy. Jesus.

Her phone chirped shortly after she got through the door. It was her good pal- at least at ol' Wilson Titlee- Mark LaGrange.

"hey. u wearin headphones? cmon dani now i gotta be a hardass about it. cant let paula see that shit, she sucks. skip em tonight alright, lets get the heat off"

Shitting Christ she didn't even have her shoes off yet.

She left Mark's text unanswered. She sucked at texting anyway. If anyone asked, that was reason enough why she didn't get back to him.

She needed about an hour to fall asleep, and she needed about seven hours of sleep. That left...

She squinted at the clock. 8:40 am.

She had about five hours to herself. Enough time to make some breakfast-for-dinner, take an extra-hot shower, and watch something.

She crouched and looked into the cabinet under the TV. She was running through the good stuff- Scorsese, Broderick, Moranis- and it was time to get into the really good stuff.

Hercules in New York. Schwarzenegger, '70.

Hell yeah. This is gonna suck.

<-Prev Next->

[welcometowcwmondaynitro]

WCW Monday Nitro 09/09/1996

Shit be exploding, so you know what time it is.

Yes sir.

Once again we are not given a location this week, which generally means the town is too small-time for the big shots at WCW to even consider giving a shout out to. My research tells me this broadcast comes from the Columbus Civic Centre in Columbus, Georgia.  

As always we are introduced to our first hour announce team, Schiavone and Zbyszko.

Tony is looking quite smart this evening. Larry as expected has a horrific multcoloured abomination on underneath his jacket. It’s basically his gimmick a this point so whatever. 

They talk about how the balance of power has shifted to the nWo and Larry says Giant is “the biggest traitor since Benedict Arnold”, nice ancient reference there, Larry. We get a recap of last week’s awesome show-ending brawl. 

Once they’re done wrapping this up, Goldberg’s music plays. What? I check my file - yes, definitely 9th September 1996. Has Goldberg time travelled back to 1996 and changed history by debuting early?

Well, either that is one hell of a disguise or no, actually Goldberg’s theme music was first used by this Japanese guy called Pat Tanaka. It’s really weird seeing this random fella walk out to Goldberg’s music. The crowd boo mildly - I guess just because he’s Japanese? I don’t remember there being any storyline reason to boo him, anyway. 

Pat’s opponent is... this.

Looks like a mascot from a early/mid-90s video game brought to life. If this is Super Calo then I am curious as to what regular Calo is like. I am unsure as to what makes this version ‘Super’, but maybe we’ll find out in the upcoming match. Mike Tenay joins the announce crew because it is Calo’s debut and Tenay is the only one likely to know anything about him.

Pat Tanaka vs Super Calo

I was kind of hoping Tanaka would start the match with a spear and then jackhammer Calo into oblivion, but no such luck. 

As one would anticipate from a man dressed like a stereotypical kung-fu master in an 80s movie, Tanaka starts the match off with some kicks.

Calo jumps around pointlessly and then gets kicked in the face. Bants.

Tenay tells us Calo’s name and look comes from the “top rap group” in Mexico. He does not name this group. Confusingly wikipedia claims Calo is named after a Mexican rock group with the same name, but his image is meant to convey a rapper. So, just... what? Also what rapper has ever looked like Super Calo? In Mexico is that how rappers dress? 

Well anyway this odd fellow somersaults over the ropes onto Tanaka outside of the ring. 

The screen then cuts to this.

 Then we’re back to the match. OK then. 

Tanaka hits Calo with a powerbomb, which leads to Tony talking about him being “so schooled in the martial arts”. Yes, because we all know that classic martial arts move the powerbomb. Often followed by a leg drop and a scorpion deathlock. 

The ending to this match is beyond ridiculous. 

First, Tanaka puts Calo onto the top turnbuckle.

Neither man seems to know what is meant to happen next, so they awkwardly wrap their arms around each other.

Tanaka then lifts Calo up like he’s going for an inverse piledriver and falls backwards.

Apparently he knocks himself out, gets pinned, and loses.

What an idiot.

Super Calo defeats Pat Tanaka via Pinfall.

Nothing too super about our friend Calo in this one I’m afraid. His victory came largely because Tanaka is a super dunce.

We got some lads in the front row who are big fans of the classic moustache.

They seem quite pleased that Calo emerged victorious.

Just under seven minutes in and we throw back to Mean Gene in the locker room with Rick Steiner. This should be good.

Shirts hanging out of the lockers behind them, as you do. 

Gene asks Rick Steiner about Nick Patrick’s questionable officiating - referring to the incident last week where Luger was disqualified in seconds for basically nothing. Rick says that he had Luger, and Gene saw it. Total bullshit as the match had barely started, and Gene does point that out. 

Luger walks into the frame as we see last week’s replay. Rick is continually going on about how he was going to win, sounding like a mentally challenged three year old. On the other hand this is a guy who also genuinely thinks he’s a dog, so... I should probably be impressed that he is able to form words and put them into a somewhat coherent structure.

Gene says that Steiner is “a little confused” in the understatement of the century, 

Luger tells Rick that he’s “a great tag team wrestler” but he feels like he has the edge in a singles environment. Rick continues to fail to understand basic english and keeps repeating “I can beat you, ask Sting” and then starts calling for Sting.

Gene then ushers Rick away like an unruly child as Luger walks off as well. Gene says that Luger was alluding that Rick “doesn’t have it upstairs”, pointing to his head. Wow, what a dick. Luger didn’t say anything like that. All he implied was that he was a better singles wrestler than Rick. Not sure where Gene has gotten his interpretation from, but my guess is he just wants to stir the pot as usual.

Next it’s nWo announcement time.

Just the usual t-shirt ad with Nash saying “all proceeds go towards the Ric Flair retirement fund”. Joke’s on him, that fund must have accrued some serious cash before it was finally paid out.

We’re back and...

Somebody buy these poor kids some real nWo t-shirts. 

Where did these people come from? Did they decide to stop by Nitro after a corporate dinner or something? 

Are these pilots in the audience as well? Wtf? Why are all these people coming to the show dressed in their work clothes? Is this a common thing in the States?

Oh, hey, guess what - Glacier debuted. I would say “remember all that hype” but if you’ve been reading this sad collection of nostalgic drivel then you will indeed remember the many Glacier adverts that have been on every Nitro broadcast since May or so. We’re now in September and Glacier finally had his first match... on WCW Pro.

Seriously.

WCW Pro is like... Sunday Night Heat or Velocity in WWE terms. It’s below WCW Saturday Night for fuck’s sake.  Tony calls it “one of the most eagerly anticipated debuts ever” - which is why he made his first appearance on WCW FUCKING PRO. Oh WCW, what are you like?

Larry says Glacier will be “a force to be reckoned with”, which, spoiler alert. turns out to be the opposite.

  Oh good, these two walking charisma vacuums.

And these two lumbering idiots. WCW, the best wrestling on the planet. How could WWF in 1996 find no way to entice people away from Pat Tanaka vs Super Calo and The AFC vs the Nasty Boys? Seriously. It isn’t that difficult. 

The AFC do their usual schtick of singing the Canadian national anthem badly and the crowd get angry because ‘Murica fuck yeah and whatever. The Nasty Boys say “fuck this” and attack the AFC after about 10 seconds of this bullshit, getting the match started.

The Amazing French Canadians Vs The Nasty Boys

You don’t care about this match. I don’t care about this match. Let’s just skip to the end.

Knobbs whacks the eyepatch guy with the flag the AFC brought out. Saggs pins for the win. 

The Nasty Boys defeat The Amazing French Canadians via Pinfall.

Mean Gene comes scurrying out to interview the Nastys, for some reason.

Saggs says everybody has been pointing the finger at the Nasty Boys, accusing them of being with the nWo (can’t imagine anybody really cares but OK, sure). Saggs says the Nasty’s are only worried about the tag titles which are in WCW, ergo they aren’t interested in joining the nWo. Does he not realise that faction affiliation is irrelevent as far as challenging for belts is concerned? I mean, Hogan is literally WCW Heavyweight champion at this point in time. 

Knobbs says that the Nasty’s don’t care about the nWo, they’re in WCW and they’re coming for Harlem Heat to take the tag team titles. Short and to the point, which is fine by me, even if the Nasty’s appear to be under the mistaken impression- that joining the nWo would invalidate them from challenging for the tag titles. 

We’re back from a commercial break to find Scott Norton and Sgt Craig Pittman in the ring.

Sgt Craig Pittman Vs Scott Norton

The commentators bill this as a “hold versus hold” match and I’m not sure what this means, as I was under the impression every match is hold versus hold. But whatever. 

After some back and forth Pittman decides that it’s time to ram his head into Norton’s sternum. 

It looks pretty painful and not especially effective, but Pittman enjoys it so much he does it again. 

They head to the outside of the ring. Norton gets whipped against the guardrail, the entirety of which moves upon impact, but then Norton regains control by slamming Pittman’s shoulder into the ring post. 

Norton locks in the armbar but the Sarge will not give up. Long gets onto the ring apron to beg Pittman to give in, but he won’t. WCW, for reasons beyond my understanding, is very careful about protecting Sgt. Craig Pittman. He never gets pushed, as far as I remember, but this man WILL NOT QUIT.

Then... 

Ice Train wanders out wearing this abomination. Seriously - what the fuck? It’s like a demin vest with a backpack built in. It’s something you would expect to see an eight-year old girl in the mid-90s wearing over the top of a t-shirt or something. What clothing brand figured that this design was suitable for huge, beefy dudes? I don’t know, but they clearly have a customer in Ice Train.

Train throws in the towel for Pittman.  

Scott Norton defeats Sgt. Craig Pittman via Forfeit. 

He enters the ring and stares down at Norton, who is looking at Train’s vest top and moobs like “dafuq?”

The two former amigos have a staredown which doesn’t lead anywhere. 

Pepboys Power Pin of the Week is a submission. Go figure.

We head to the locker room where Gene-o is with Ric Flair, Arn Anderson and Lex Luger.

Three of these men are dressed appropriately. The other is Lex Luger.

Apparently Sting is supposed to be a part of this interview as well but is nowhere to be found. Luger assures Flair & Arn that Sting is in the building, but the Horsemen are having none of it and are concerned that Sting doesn’t have his head in the game. Flair starts going crazy and practically flings himself into an alternate dimension with his erratic movements.

Like a jet propeller is being put directly in front of his face.

Anyway eventually these two sad sacks come lumbering in...

Mongo looks like he’s about to explode, whilst Benoit as usual appears barely awake. Mongo yells about not being able to count on Luger and Sting. Luger reiterates that Sting is in the building somewhere, he’s just not around for the interview. The Horsemen do seem overly paranoid here - how hard would it be to track Sting down and talk to him if they are this pissed off? 

Arn says he’s called ahead to Winston, Salem (where Fall Brawl/War Games is being held) to pre-book himself a hospital room as he assumes he’s going to need one. Seems like a somewhat pessimistic thing to do, but is it even possible to pre-book hospital room? Arn is talking like he’s booked a hotel room for the night. Strange lad. He also suggests Hogan uses battery acid to burn out his eyes which... I mean, don’t give the guy ideas, Arn.  

Interview ends with everybody talking over each other and Flair wooing a lot - so, the same as most Horsemen interviews.

People in the crowd are holding these signs which say “nWo - you haven’t seen bad... but it’s coming!” - indeed, Hogan Vs Piper is coming.

We get a recap of this thrilling DDP/Eddie/Chavo storyline which nobody cares about, but why this is recapped is beyond me as the next match has nothing to do with any of those three. 

Instead, out comes “the desparado” himself, Joe Gomez.

Somebody throws a wad of paper at him as he enters. Obviously not a fan.

His opponent is Juventud Guerrera,  who Tony repeatedly refers to as Juventud Guerrero. 

As Juvi enters he runs past these ladies, who appear both baffled and unimpressed with him.

Cold.

Joe Gomez Vs Juventud Guerrera

The match starts off okay, but descends into disaster fairly quickly as Juvi starts trying various lucha things which poor Joe is clearly not comfortable with. First Juvi stands on the apron, jumps onto the ropes as Gomez slowly walks towards him and does this...

It’s clear from this angle alone that there is no way in hell Juvi is going to reach Gomez. In fairness to WCW they switch camera angle just in time to make it look slightly less terrible, although I imagine it was more down to luck than skill. Nonetheless Gomez at least tries to sell the move, falling backwards theatrically.

Weeee! Points for effort if not execution. 

This happens next, and thanks to Uproxx “Best and Worst of WCW Monday Nitro” series (check it out, it’s great) I have a GIF to put into pictures what I would struggle to put into words.

Speaks for itself.

After this Juvi seems to want to go for a hurricanrana from the top turnbuckle but I‘m not sure if they botch this as well or it was the plan, but Juvi ends up backflipping away from the turnbuckle and then catching Gomez with a weak looking dropkick as he jumps towards Juvi.

Juvi just about manages to hit the finishing move...

But even that looks a little bit dodgy. At least Joe just had to lay there for this one. Ref counts to three and mercifully this one is over. Not sure if Gomez or Juvi are to blame for this shitshow, but either way I advise never putting them together again.

Juventud Guerrera defeats Joe Gomez via Pinfall.

For some reason Mean Gene is on the ramp to interview Nick Patrick. Oh good, more of this storyline.

Before they start the interview though, as Juventud walks past Gene and Patrick, Gene says “very good match there on the part of Juventud Guerrera”, then gives Juvi a disdainful look and mutters “guy just kind of... wanders around here”. LOL. Why is Gene throwing shade at poor Juvi? “Guy just wanders around here”, like he’s a lost child or something. I guess Gene is still salty about the interview with Juvi that went wrong a couple of weeks ago, but come on, that was hardly Juvi’s fault. Obvious Gene is still holding a grudge though. 

I don’t think anybody really wants to hear from these two ballbags but here we are anyway. 

Gene is accusing Patrick of making too many controversial calls for it to just be coincidence, whilst Patrick is accusing Gene of being a shit-stirring cock cheese who needs to get a life. Neither are lying but nobody really cares either. What is funny is that Okerlund is very haughty and dismissive of Patrick - until Patrick threatens to take Gene to court - at which point Gene stutters “well I-I hope that doesn’t happen” before saying “thank you very much Nick Patrick, sir, thank you” to Patrick as he walks off. Pathetic. 

Meanwhile Hogan, Hall, Nash and the Giant are outside in the pouring rain putting those nWo flyers with the “you haven’t seen bad... but it’s coming” slogan on random cars. This seems like a total waste of time as by the time the car owners get back to their vehicles the rain would probably have destroyed those flyers anyway.  Do these guys really have nothing better to do? Tony tells us the nWo are “literally” in the parking lot - as opposed to what, being there in spirit?

Ted DiBiase is the smartest of the lot as he 1) has an umbrella and 2) isn’t wasting his time putting up useless flyers in the pouring rain. He’s talking to somebody in the car, and the announcers are shitting themselves as to who it might be, as they tend to do. For all they know DiBiase might just be talking to the driver. 

“HERE’S A STORY OF TWO BROTHERS, RICK AND SCOTT!”

Just Rick tonight. He comes out doing that sad half-bark he does whenever something is troubling him. 

His opponent, of course, is Flexy Lexy.

Rick Steiner Vs Lex Luger

These two are not exactly known as ‘ring generals’ so I am not expecting a classic here. Let’s see, though. Perhaps we will all be pleasantly surprised. 

After various arm drags, headlocks, shoulder blocks, and so on, this happens.

Uh...

Yeah. Rick is basically molesting Luger in the ring and keeps this up for a disturbing amount of time. I guess it’s meant to show his amateur wrestling background but it basically just looks like sexual assault. Rick’s hands are going to places they really should not. 

Hour two begins with the usual fireworks. Bischoff, Heenan and Tenay come in on commentary for the rest of the show. 

Rick hits Luger with a nice powerslam, and Randy Anderson cannot bear to watch the impact. The crowd bark their approval which, personally, I don’t think is helpful. Rick’s clinical lycanthropy is only going to get worse if people bark at him when he does something good. Or bark at him in general, really.

More cuddling. Back away, Rick. Even Randy Anderson is telling him to cut it out at this point.

Luger takes control with a powerslam and signals for the rack. However, before he can attempt his finishing move...

This dicksplash comes running out waving his arms around. Looks like he’s doing the sieg heil there but fairly sure it’s just the timing of the screenshot.

Anyhow, Patrick tells Luger to follow him out the back, yelling something about the nWo beating up Sting.

Considering Patrick’s recent behaviour, Lex, it might not be wise to...

OK. Never mind. Of course Luger goes running after Patrick, abandoning the match entirely and getting himself counted out. 

Everyone looking towards the entrance way like “where’s he going?” 

Rick Steiner defeats Lex Luger via Countout.

We get a shot of DiBiase talking to the mystery man in the limo. Sting’s voice is heard but it is blatantly piped in from some other promo. He says he’s “tired of the DTA stuff, don’t trust anybody”, so I guess he’s not a fan of Stone Cold Steve Austin. DiBiase pretends to talk to the pre-taped Sting voice until Lex shows up.

A guy who is clearly not Sting gets out of the limo and starts beating up Luger whilst Bischoff screams “NO! NO!”

I have the advantage of hindsight and my monitor is probably bigger than most people’s TVs back in 1996... but still, it’s really obviously not Sting. Were people genuinely fooled by this? 

The nWo along with “Sting” beat Luger down and leave him laying in a broken heap in the rain...

It has not been a good night for Luger. First he got yelled at by the Horsemen, then he spent ten minutes getting inappropriately touched by Rick Steiner during their match, then he gets smacked around by the nWo and left on the ground in the pouring rain. Bad times for sure. Although if you’re stupid enough to follow Nick Patrick anywhere... 

Luger does manage to get back up but ends up just kind of wandering around in the rain looking confused whilst the nWo flee, leaving the limos parked outside the building.

These bois are not impressed by what they have just seen. Tenay looks like a dad who is about to grab his belt and put a whippin’ on somebody. Bischoff is indignant. Heenan wears the expression of a man who was just forced to sit through every Raw from 2015. Pure torture. 

Bischoff says he has an update which is literally “we don’t know where [the nWo] are. I’m sorry. I don’t know”. Well thanks for that. Very helpful. 

We get a long recap of last week’s angle including more footage of the amazing all-out brawl that ended the show. Then we get another nWo advert for their t-shirt. 

A bunch of random jobbers are outside with Luger and Rick Steiner milling around the limo yelling out “DIBIASE!” - as if he’ll just pop up and be like “sup bois?” - pointless endeavour. Rick Steiner is the only one smart enough to bring an umbrella outside. Let that one sink in. Luger chucks a bunch of stuff out of one of the limos onto the floor which seems unnecessary. 

Out comes pre-Flock Billy Kidman. The commentators could not care less, just droning on about Sting’s supposed “defection”. 

The other combatant in this contest is Cruiserweight champion Rey Mysterio Jr.

Rey Mysterio Jr Vs Billy Kidman

The announcers spend the entire match in ‘sad voice’, like their dogs have all collectively died. It’s really annoying.

The match spills to the outside very quickly. Rey gets the advantage and rolls Kidman back in. He attempts to jump off the ropes from the apron, but Kidman knows what’s coming and meets Rey with a dropkick to the chest.

Kidman slams Rey in the centre of the ring, runs over to the turnbuckle and leaps off.

Just a two count though. Rey wins the match soon after this by flipping off the ropes onto Kidman.

It looks weak but whatever. This wasn’t anything special.

Rey Mysterio defeats Billy Kidman via Pinfall.

We come back from a commercial and the Dungeon’s of Doom’s “music” is playing, and I put that in inverted commas because it isn’t really music, just a pseudo-creepy OTT villainous laugh accompanied by some kind of chant. Whatever. Normally any sign of the Dungeon is enough to make me want to hang my head in despair, however!

If Meng is involved, it might be somewhat entertaining. Just to note those aren’t two random arms sprouting out of Meng’s shoulders – the Barbarian is behind him.

The announcers are still going on about how tragic Sting’s supposed betrayal is – and Bischoff apologises for “not giving Rey Mysterio the attention he deserves in his match”. I mean, kind of tough to take that apology seriously considering how often this has happened and will continue to happen until Nitro goes out of existence. It is the only time I can recall any commentator in WCW actually apologising for the routine ignoring of the cruiserweights in favour of talking about/complaining about the nWo, though.

These two are the opponents. Yeah, Public Enemy, they definitely deserve that pyro. Sure. Look at them waving their hands in the air like they just don’t care.

By the way, the commentators are still going on about Sting. I wonder if we’ll get another apology for ignoring this match as well? Not that I’d necessarily blame them here.

Some diehard wrestling fans here. I think we saw them previously – seemingly someone in production has taken a liking to these ladies. They look like they got lost on their way to a PTA meeting, but fuck it, might as well enjoy themselves now. Watch out for the dude behind you though, ladies. That smile worries me a little.

The Faces of Fear Vs Public Enemy

We go to a commercial break, and as soon as we come back Bischoff says “I hate to keep repeating this, but apparently Sting has joined forces with the nWo”. Bullshit, if you hated it that much you’d have shut up about it by now. I mean, jeez, we get it.

This contest is just a brawl, as you’d expect. Not exactly a match for the ages, but all of a sudden, randomly…

This dude on the left appears and begins running/skipping around the ring.

The fuck? It’s like Rockstar Spud’s demented uncle or something. 

He briefly chases Jimmy Hart, then just… vanishes? Oh, and by the way, the commentators make no mention of this. They do not acknowledge this at all. Why? Because they’re talking about everything except the match itself. Literally, I’m not kidding, it’s like this match is not happening. It’s like listening to a radio show or a podcast spliced together with unrelated WCW footage.

Wait, what? What’s happening now? The match is ongoing and they just cut to the back. Judging from the faces of these lads you’d think someone died. It’s a sombre scene to say the least – but seriously, why even have the match in the ring? What’s the point? The commentators are acting like it isn’t happening and we cut to an interview as the match is happening. Bischoff doesn’t even note that we’ve cut away from a match in progress, he just says “take it away Gene”, like this is totally normal. Whatever, I guess. It’s not like I’m desperate to see the Faces of Fear versus Public Enemy, but what a bizarre way to structure… everything.

Gene asks Arn to explain what happened in the parking lot earlier. Seemed quite self-explanatory to me and the commentators have not stopped talking about it since it happened, so the viewers really don’t need any extra information.  

Arn says he doesn’t give a shit about Luger losing a friend, or that he’s lost a team mate, he’s just shocked. He brings up Sting’s loyalty to WCW.

They actually move to a split-screen here – I guess someone in the production truck remembered there is actually a match going on. It wouldn’t be fair to deprive the dozens of Faces of Fear/Public Enemy fans the chance to see their favourite grapplers go at it.

Anyway, Arn says he has a sick feeling in his stomach, he’s shocked, and he’s out of words. He’s said quite a few already, though, so not really.

Flair stands there with his arms folded, eyeing the audience like a disappointed father.

Luger says he doesn’t have any answers, and that his “best friend in the whole world” stabbed him in the back. He then says he knows where Sting lives and where he works out, and he’s going to go and find him “right now”. Sounds like Lex is planning to murk Sting. However, he should keep in mind this is a guy who only last week tried to murder somebody by chucking a rock through the window of a limo, then stole a police car. Come to think of it, I’m not sure why Sting isn’t in jail. Regardless, I wouldn’t be chasing after him without a good plan.

Flair screams that he’s “sick of it” and just generally yells about how they’re going to beat up the nWo at War Games (including Sting). Arn says “it’s a fight to the death – yours, not ours”. I suppose that was worth emphasising? Also Arn has a tendency to see these matches as ending in death, even though it never comes close to that.

We return to the Faces of Fear/Public Enemy match. By “we” I mean the audience – the commentators are still talking about War Games. I genuinely don’t think they have said anything about the match – oh, wait a minute, Bischoff does mention the match, finally. Although he says the teams are “literally fighting for their lives” which is not exactly accurate. What is up with these people thinking matches are going to end so tragically?

Anyway, the brawling continues for a while and eventually, somehow, Rocco Rock ends up lying on a table. Barbarian heads for the top turnbuckle.

Guys, I don’t foresee this ending well. Seriously, what is the absolute best result of this? Rocco (who can clearly see Barbarian on the turnbuckle) for some reason lays there and lets Barbarian jump on him. It’ll be brutal for both. Or, Rocco moves and Barbarian crashes through the table. Either way Barbarian doesn’t win in this scenario.

Uh oh. Jimmy Hart is absolutely useless at holding Rocco down, kicked away like an insect as Rocco sits up.

That is a fucking sick bump. It’s funny because Barbarian barely takes any serious bumps at all, on Nitro at least, then he decides to say fuck it and leaps to the concrete through a table because YOLO I guess?

Well anyway he dead. Rocco brings a second table into the ring.

Looks pretty old. Nick Patrick wags his finger in disapproval, but incredibly that isn’t enough to persuade Public Enemy to stop. They lay Meng on the table, then Rocco goes to the top turnbuckle for a moonsault…

He almost misses the table entirely, only catching Meng with his legs. The table is weak enough that it breaks despite the soft contact.

You’d think that would be the spot that ends the match, but no. Meng gets up like nothing happened and starts brawling with Rocco again. Barbarian is also somehow revived and back in the ring fighting with Grunge. This is weird because the outside table spot with Barbarian getting wiped out, and then Meng getting put through the table by Rocco’s moonsault, felt like the end sequence of the match. Now it’s like we’re back at the start again. Keep in mind the match has been going for about 10 minutes now. That’s at least 7 minutes longer than is ideal for these teams, really.

Whilst Rocco and Barbarian are hugging it out in the corner, Meng puts the Tongan Death Grip on Grunge and now this one is over.

No explanation as to what the fuck was going on with that random ginger guy running around the ring earlier by the way. Oh well. During the replay Heenan accidentally calls Meng “Haku” and then goes silent immediately. Oops.

The Faces of Fear defeat Public Enemy via Pinfall.

Suddenly Okerlund appears at ringside, accompanied by the Dungeon of Doom.

Maxx, Jimmy Hart, Big Bubba, Gene, Kevin Sullivan, Hugh Morrus and Konnan. To quote Rufus from Final Fantasy 7 – “what a crew”.

Sullivan is no longer painting his face with those stupid markings, but for some reason is now wearing a white headband. Does he think he’s the Karate Kid now?

He also starts making this derp face - and this isn’t just a screen grab catching an awkward expression momentarily, he’s making this face on purpose.

For some reason we go to Jimmy Hart first, who tells the Giant “it’s the beginning of the end for you, you just don’t know it yet”. I’m sure he’s quaking in his boots.  

Big Bubba then rants about Glacier, talking about him saying he’s coming for “6 or 7 months” and asking if he’s not debuting because he’s afraid. Slight exaggeration on the 6 or 7 months from Bubba, but to be fair it does feel like those vignettes have been running for at least that long. Bubba actually doesn’t seem to be aware that Glacier debuted on WCW Pro, but it’s WCW Pro, so... understandable. Bubba calls the Dungeon of Doom “the masters of intimidation”…

What he means is that Meng is the master of intimidation. The others aren’t exactly adding much to the equation. Maxx is standing off to the side looking distinctly unimpressed by the entire thing.

With that said, bored does seem to be his default expression regardless of what is happening. I imagine he’d have the same expression even if Bubba was in the process of sprouting three heads whilst doing a kossack dance.

After calling Gene “homes”, Konnan calls Sullivan a “hardened veterano”. He then says Sullivan has seen and led gang wars from coast to coast.

Yes, Kevin Sullivan wearing that silly white headband is exactly what I think of when I think of leaders of gang wars. Sullivan’s ‘wut?’ expression here says it all. I’m not sure you can call the Dungeon of Doom/Alliance to End Hulkamania Versus Hogan and Macho Man a “gang war”. I’m not sure two people can even constitute a gang. Also Sullivan may be worried Konnan is unintentionally (?) implicating him in genuine gang wars… which probably isn’t in the Taskmaster’s best interests.

Konnan challenges the nWo to come out and confront the Dungeon, who he calls “the toughest set”. Yeah, sure. The challenge is not accepted, because the nWo are for sure terrified of a “gang” featuring the likes of Maxx, Kevin Sullivan, Big Bubba and Hugh Morrus.

Sullivan says that Savage thinks he’ll owe the Dungeon “a debt” for carrying him out from the ring last week. I doubt it in all honesty – maybe if they’d actually done something to help him before he’d been beaten down and spraypainted. Carrying him out after the fact didn’t really help much.

Anyhow, Sullivan says Savage can repay this fictional debt by first beating John Tenta, because why not I guess, and then by getting rid of the Giant. That doesn’t really seem like a balanced deal. We carry you backstage after you’ve been beaten up, you make it even by beating John Tenta and the Giant. Hmmm.

Time for some nWo propaganda.

Hogan tells us that they “aren’t here for a stinkin’ reason” – directly contradicting Nash and Hall, who had previously made it clear they’d come in specifically to take over WCW. He then randomly says “we’ve got our boss with us” and points to Ted DiBiase, who’s sitting in a chair behind them.

Homely. DiBiase looks like he’s being held prisoner, but whatever. Hogan says DiBiase makes Ted Turner look like a “pauper”. Honestly I could try to recap this whole thing but it’s really just a bunch of random sound bytes ripping on WCW for the most part. They talk about wanting “their own tag team tournament” for some reason. They also want a segment (on Nitro, presumably) where they can “highlight” their talent. What they actually mean is a segment highlighting Hogan, as we’ll discover going forward. Scott Hall says “nWo 4 life” with the hand sign (might be the first instance of this?) and they all end the segment laughing like it was an amazing joke.

I was a satellite dish owner back then – or rather, my parents were - but no WCW PPVs in the UK, sadly. We only got a butchered hour-long version of Nitro on TNT UK during 1996 & 1997. I didn’t find out that I’d been watching an edited version of the show until many years later. At least now I can sit back and relive the glory of the Faces of Fear Vs Public…. eh, maybe TNT UK were doing us a favour after all.

Back with your bois at the announce desk. Tenay once again has that “stern dad” look, whilst Heenan seems to be whimsically remembering something from years gone by. Take a guess as to what Bischoff is talking about?

A)     The upcoming main event

B)     Meltzer being wrong about everything

C)     Blue Chew

D)     Sting’s betrayal

If you’ve been following along thus far, you’ll know the answer. The lad does genuinely hate big Dave though, and loves that Blue Chew. Come to think of it, what is the main event? I can’t even remember. Sting’s supposed betrayal has been hammered into my brain so many fucking times at this point I can barely conceive of any other event occurring at any wrestling show.

Chris Jericho’s music plays, but…

It’s John Tenta? Still got that stupid haircut by the way. Seriously, fish man, you’ve made your point. Get that shaved.

But yeah, I’m confused here. I thought Jericho was coming out. But hold on, that’s Jericho’s second theme, “One Crazed Anarchist”, aka the Pearl Jam ripoff, not the one he’s using at this point in WCW, which I believe is the Journey ripoff. So John Tenta is in fact the OG “One Crazed Anarchist”. For the record, the theme suits Jericho far more than it suits the former Shark.

As he comes out Tenta says “Savage, you’re not putting me down”. You think so, John?

What exactly has that guy in the hat been up to? That is not the look of an innocent person.

Ohhh yeahhh, it’s the Macho Man. The commentators are pretending that the result of the match is in any doubt, which I suppose they have to do.

John “anti-fish” Tenta Vs “Macho Man” Randy Savage

Savage storms to the ring, but that turns out to be a bad idea as Tenta stomps on the Macho Man’s back as he slides in and then clobbers him with a forearm to the back.

Bad strategy, Macho. Tenta’s moobs though… whoa.

That’s an interesting choice of attire for a wrestling event, madam.

Tenta works over Savage in the corner for a bit. Savage then begins to make a comeback, before for some reason attempting to slam Tenta…

Goes about as well as you’d expect. Macho really needs to work on his strategy.

Bischoff actually specifically says here that Heenan accidentally referred to Meng as “Haku” earlier and wants to make it clear Meng now works for WCW and not the WWF. I guess they were really taking this kind of thing seriously due to the lawsuits flying around at this point in history. Funny though, as you hear these kinds of slip-ups all the time. I mean, if TNA or AEW were sued for every time a commentator accidentally used a competitor’s ex-WWE name there would need to be a legal department created specifically just to deal with the fucking volume. At least Heenan didn’t call it “WWF Nitro”.

Tenta hits Macho with a decent looking drop kick – quite impressive considering his weight. Outside of the ring Savage hits Tenta with a steel chair…

He isn’t disqualified because…? He whacks Tenta twice more with a chair. This is not a no-DQ match, but it is WCW, so fuck the rules unless we need them for storyline purposes, right?

Flying elbow drop!

Macho goes up for a second, but then Teddy Long comes to ringside yelling “Macho!” – what could the so-called “godfather” want with Savage? Also where’s my man Ice Train at? Come to think of it, I just remembered what he was wearing earlier… best for him to stay backstage.

Savage still hits the second elbow drop. Long is gesticulating wildly at Savage and yelling something about the nWo. Savage leaps over the top rope with nice agility.

But before we go any further…

Son, I am disappoint. I can’t even say “A for effort” because that is the lowest tier of effort.

Anyway, Savage follows Teddy to the outside of the arena where Teddy announces “YOU GONNA GO ONE-ON-ONE WITH THE UNDERTAKER PLAYA!”

Actually, they run towards a limo.              

The limo drives off as soon as Savage approaches it. What was the point of that?

Flair and Mongo randomly appear as the limo drives away.

There’s another limo there, but only a box of spraypaint inside it. There are a ton of WCW guys out there now – the Horsemen, the Dungeon, Public Enemy, Juvi, Super Calo, Savage… basically everyone who was on TV tonight. They start spraypainting “WCW” on the limo windows… or rather, they try to. Due to the fact it’s been raining and everywhere is wet it ends up just looking like a green smudge. As an aside, if that is in fact not an nWo limo, somebody is going to be in for a surprise.  

For some reason the commentators are all standing up. Tenay is looking more evil every time he’s on camera. It’s like he wants to reach through the camera and strangle each and every viewer.

Seriously though, he is repeatedly making a “pissed-off dad” face.

“Dad, I borrowed your car…”

“Um… and… I got a speeding ticket…”

“And there’s a dent on the front as I kinda sorta knocked over the mailbox…”

Grounded forever.

Anyway, once they all sit back down Heenan goes on a rant about the nWo which concludes with “if we don’t stop them now then they can’t be stopped”. If only you could glimpse into the future and nWo 2000, Bobby.

Oh, by the way, I guess John Tenta won the match against Savage by count out? It wasn’t announced or shown, but Savage jumped out of the ring and never returned, so…

John Tenta defeats “Macho Man” Randy Savage via Countout.

I guess Tenta was right, Savage didn’t put him down after all. Score one for the fish hating weirdo.

Double A suddenly appears on set. Heenan gives Arn his headset. Can’t help but think it’d be better for Anderson to be in the ring with a mic, as the fans in the arena can’t hear any of this… but whatever.

Arn says that the world is “in shock” and “outraged”. The world is probably a bit of a stretch, but OK. Flair turns up as Arn is talking, as do Benoit and Mongo. Arn says that this all began ten years ago with the original Horsemen, and that they paved the way and showed the nWo how to do it. Technically true. Arn says the nWo want to be the Horsemen “when they grow up”.

Tenay continuing to give that evil stare, even at Arn. Bischoff looks kind of sad.

As an aside, I may have mentioned it before, but I really like this shirt design:

Bischoff begins talking about making mistakes, but Flair interrupts him. Flair screams so loudly that the headset seems to take some damage as the volume decreases slightly. Flair explains War Games – although if you don’t know what it is by this point then what have you been doing with your life? – and says Hogan won’t leave War Games alive. Spoiler alert: he does.

Bischoff then talks about how maybe bringing Hogan in to WCW was “a mistake” and that the Horsemen “haven’t been given their just due”. The same exact sentence could have been said in 2000 and been even more relevant.

WCW then ends the show with a replay of Luger getting beaten up by “Sting” and the nWo. I’m sure he appreciates that. A good thing they reminded us, as I think a whole ten seconds passed at the end there without mention of Sting’s betrayal and my memory had started to go hazy.

[ultrastimpaks]

oc companion meme

based on this post!

companions: ☢️ Helena Pierce

OC: ROBERT CRAIG

THE BASICS

>> which game would they be from?

fallout 3

>> where would you find them?

You can find Bobby at Gary’s Galley in Rivet City. His character stands out among all the metal and dull colors; Bobby is wearing a heavily modified Vault 101 suit, a red cap and strapped to his back is Betsie, his plasma rifle

>> how do you recruit them?

Starting a conversation with him will make him introduce himself to you and tell you a little about his past in Vault 101. Bobby will also ask you about the current in-game situation of the Capital Wasteland, and if you give him good karma answers, you will be able to try passing a 50 speech check to ask him to travel with you.

Bobby will join you as a companion if you have good karma.

>> do they have a specialized task?

Bobby will hack terminals of any level if asked to.

>> do they give the player items? if yes, which items?

“You should hold on to this… You never know when you’re gonna need a stimpak.”

If you start a conversation with Bobby from time to time, he will give you a stimpak.

>> do they have a personal quest? if yes, what would it be?

Bobby doesn’t have a personal quest. However, he will give you misc quests to take down bad guys around the Wasteland. Complete enough quests for him and he will award you a perk, as long as you have him next to you.

>> can you romance them?

No.

>> what perk would they give the player?

It’s Plasma, Baby! - You do 10% more damage and your critical chance increases while using plasma weapons.

>> what are their SPECIAL stats?

S - 6, P - 9+, E - 5, C - 8, I - 7, A - 5, L - 7

AFFINITY

>> loves

hacking - “ah, the sweet sound of a terminal well hacked”

Doing good deeds/receiving good karma - “The world would be a better place with more people like you.”

Helping the Little Lamplight children escape Paradise Falls - “No one should treat children like that… never!”

>> likes

If you side with Roy Phillips and pursue the non-violent ending for the Tenpenny Tower quest - “If you ask me, Roy deserves this tower more than that old Alistair fu- oh shit, sorry for the language.”

If you become a vampire during the Blood Ties quest - “Do we need to find a coffin for ya? *laughs* C’mon, don’t be mad! You have superpowers now!”

>> neutral

Siding with the Brotherhood - “Next thing you know you’re as uptight as those guys. Booooooring.”

>> dislikes

Pickpocketing - “We’re supposed to be the good guys here! Give that shit back or I’m gonna-”

Lock picking doors and safes set to owned - “Cut that shit out!”

Drinking alcohol - “I’m not carrying you back to your place.”

Killing brahmin - What did they even do to you? Save your bullets for actual threats.”

Entering vaults - “Did you know there is a high as fuck chance of this Vault being another sick experiment? And you want us to go in there?”

>> hates

If you decide to keep Harold alive during the Oasis quest - “That guys has been alive for centuries! And you decide to keep him suffering just to please those weirdos? Someone should teach you a thing or two about mercy.”

If you accept Mr. Burke’s offer and blow up Megaton - “You- I can’t believe- Ugh! Fuck off, I don’t wanna see you again!” (Bobby will permanently leave you if you blow up Megaton. He will take you aside and try talking you out of it throughout the quest.)

VOICE LINES

>> “use melee”

“Grognak has taught me a thing or two about that”

>> “use ranged”

“They won’t see it coming until its *makes weird plasma noises and fake screams*”

>> “stay close”

“Did you know Betsie emits a small dose of radiation? Hehe don’t worry though.”

>> “keep distance”

"Yeah, I can do that! Just like on Silver Shroud issue 36 when-”

>> “back up”

“You’re aware I have feelings, right?”

>> “be passive”

“Don’t mind if I fall asleep.”

>> “be aggressive”

“Pew pew pew! Time to catch some bad guys!”

>> “wait here”

“Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

>> “follow me”

“Let’s spice things up.”

>> when healed

“Are you… are you an angel? Am I in heaven?”

>> when killed (general)

“No no no-!”

>> when killed (by player)

“You traitor!”

>> when talking

“... So I’m sitting at my dad’s clinic, plasma goo on my shirt-”

“Have you ever tried mirelurk cake? Hey- no, don’t make that face! It tastes really good… for a dish made out of a giant mutant crab.”

*When near Rivet City* “Can we stop by the Muddy Rudder? Pretty please?”

“Nothing beats the blue sky and the warmth of the sun. I can never get enough of it.”

>> when trading (neutral)

“I can’t do much if I’m carrying all of that.”

>> when trading (happy)

“Are there any comics for me?”

“Aw, is that for me?”

>> when dismissed

“But we were having so much fun together…”

[365days365movies]

January 14, 2021: GoldenEye (1995) (Part 1)

He’s suave. He’s sophisticated. He’s spy. He’s...

The late, great Sean Connery. 

Ignoring the less then savory aspects of his personality (AKA the Barbara Walters interview...both of them), Connery is undoubtedly the most famous Scottish actor of all time. Sorry, Whovians, I love David Tennant, too. But Connery’s got him beat. He’s been in so many iconic films and roles, his influence is undeniable. But most famous of all is his turn as Agent 007, the man himself, James Bond.

I’ve seen all of Connery’s original Bond films (not counting Never Say Never Again), and my favorite is Goldfinger, in case you were wondering. But outside of that...I haven’t seen any Bond movies. Since him, the character’s been played by David Niven, George Lazenby (now THAT’S an interesting story, lemme tell you), Roger Moore, Timothy Dalton, and the two I’ll be looking at this month: Pierce Brosnan and Daniel Craig.

I’ll be looking at Brosnan tomorrow, in Casino Royale. But today, I’m looking at arguably the third most-famous Bond, Pierce Brosnan, in one of the most famous modern Bond movies, GoldenEye.

Also, yeah, never played the game I KNOW IT WAS A ‘90S CLASSIC I WASN’T ALLOWED TO HAVE VIDEO GAMES. 

So, what to expect from a Bond film? Well, I’ve got a checklist here, hold on...HERE we go:

Gadgets

Girls

Good-for-Nothings

...Good music?

I’m feeling a little alliterative of late. But, yeah, looking for the Bond Girl, looking for cool gadgets, looking for dastardly villains, and listening for the theme song for the film. Got my list set, and expectations are set to Connery levels. Let’s do this, shall we?

Recap

We start at a dam in Russia. Bond James Bond (Pierce Brosnan) is infiltrating the dam, and we get our gadgets checked off right away, as he whips out an acetylene torch. He barges in on a guy in the bathroom (rude, and awkward), then meets up with Alec, AKA Agent 006 (Sean “he dies, he’s the villain, or he’s the villain who dies” Bean).

Yeah, calling it now, Alec here’s gonna die, or he’s the villain, or he’s the villain who’s gonna die. It’s Sean Bean. More importantly, it’s Sean Bean in the ‘90s. There are very few options for him. Anyway, the Russians try to stop them from blowing up the plant, and...well, Alec’s being held hostage. Yyyyyyup. And he gets shot?

I don’t know how...but I’m betting that he’s still the villain. He’s Sean Bean. C’mon. He doesn’t die this early in a movie.

The unambiguously evil Russian general (hey, the Cold War just ended) almost get Bond, but he escapes in typical Bond fashion. They chase after him, and Bond chases an airplane. How, do you ask? I WILL FUCKING SHOW YOU HOW.

WHAT??? WHAT??? Physics just broke, and Issac Newton just tunneled to China. And then the facility blows up.

And THEN the opening begins. Let’s hear the Bond song and check out the opening.

...WOW. Just...I mean...OK, so Bond songs. From the first Bond movie, Dr. No, up until the one before this one, Licence to Kill, the intros were designed and directed by Maurice Binder. They were all composed of silhouetted women, often against colorful backgrounds, and almost always nude or skimpily dressed. There would often be themes or objects seen in the film itself, and sometimes actual scenes, often projected onto women themselves. They all definitely had a similar feel and style. And then, Binder sadly passed away in 1991.

Enter Daniel Kleinman. This is Kleinman’s first take, and this is also the first movie to use CGI. While it’s not terribly obvious or gaudy in the film proper, Kleinman uses this new technology to make this intro SURREAL AS HELL. It expresses the film’s connection to the fall of Soviet Russia, and a post-Cold War society. And is does that in a pretty obvious, if abstract and dramatic, manner. And honestly, on retospect...yeah. It definitely works. Even the song, which is sung by Tina Turner and written by Bono (yes, really), works well by itself, and in my opinion, better when with the actual film. So, crazy and weird as this sequence it...kinda grew on me. I like it! Weird, but I like it a lot.

We cut to nine years later, with Bond taking a woman on a drive/race on a cliffside highway with...well, there’s our Bond girl! This is Famke Jannsen, playing...Xenia Onatopp.

Yes. Really. Oh boy. We aren’t being even slightly subtle about this, huh.

The woman in the car demands him to stop, and they make out, as one would expect. That night, he heads to a party, as James Bond does. At the party, James enters a card game with Xenia. Again...as James Bond does. This is immediately followed by him hitting on Xenia, ordering a vodka martini (shaken not stirred), introducing himself as “Bond, James Bond,” commenting on the Bond Girl’s name, and saying suave shit. 

HOLY SHIT THAT SENTENCE ALONE HAPPENED WITHIN 1 MINUTE OF SCREEN TIME

Look, movie, when you got a Bond...you gotta space that shit out. Ration it a little bit, not front load all of it WITHIN FIVE MINUTES AFTER THE OPENING’S FINISHED. It’s like giving someone a beer, and then they EAT THE FRIDGE.

Jesus. OK, Miss Moneypenny (Samantha...Bond, that’s neat!) gives Bond some information, tells him not to have sex with Xenia until they tell him to (yes, really), and then say’s that she trusts he’ll say…”On-a-Topp of things.”

YES. REALLY.

Speaking of Xenia, she’s with an Admiral, having the most TERRIFYING sex I’ve ever seen in a movie. And I’m legit not sure if he survived after it. Like, real talk, it was...frightening. Somebody steals his ID, real nonchalant like, and we cut to the next morning, after his maybe-death? James makes it onto the yacht the next morning (they were on a yacht, by the way), planning on getting some information.

Meanwhile, the ID is used by...someone...to get into a leader of global military leaders. Pretty sure the Admiral got Kegel’d to death; not even joking, it’s a real possibility, and I am shaken AND stirred. And so was the Admiral.

See? Toldja.

Looks like their unveiling a new tactical helicopter, the Tiger. However, the pilots are shot by Xenia and someone else, and they take their place, stealing the helicopter. Bond tries to stop it...even though there’s literally no way he could’ve known they were going to steal the helicopter? I mean, I guess you could assume that, but...I dunno, it’s a stretch.

Meanwhile, in Siberia, a group of radar analysts or some such, where we meet Boris (Alan Cumming, who I feel like I never see play an actual Welsh person...or in a good movie) and Natalya (Izabella Scorupco). Boris is a thirsty computer nerd who hacks the US government for fun (because ‘90s nerds in movies were basically only this), and Natalya puts up with him.

The Tiger helicopter arrives, carrying Xenia and the General (Gottfried John, by the way) from the dam 9 years ago. They show up here, seeking something. Xenia shoots up the place, killing everybody except Natalya (and maybe Boris, since we didn’t see him die). Xenia, by the way, appears to be a straight sadist, enjoying inflicting pain on unsuspecting victims. The two leave, getting what they came for.

London! James Bond returns to MI6 headquarters, and meets his secretary Miss Moneypenny, who calls him the fuck OUT. She is my favorite character now.

MI6 has intercepted a distress call from the station in Siberia, and found the helicopter. The mission is heard by both Bond and M (Dame Judi Dench herself, pre-Cats). Meanwhile, the base in Siberia is hit an electromagnetic pulse originating from an orbiting satellite, which causes EVERYTHING to explode. Pretty sure that’s not what EMPs do, but why not? Suspension of disbelief. 

Natalya’s still alive in there, by the way. And she’s not having a great day. You know those work days, right? Your coworkers are all dead, your equipment and office space explode, you’re trapped in a burning building, two American jets get hit by an EMP and crash into the building. Mondays, amirite?

And in case literally everything didn’t make it clear by now, this is a Cold War movie, taking place after the Cold War was concluded. See, the McGuffin for this film (it’s a Bond film, it’s kind of a requirement) is Project GoldenEye, a nuclear weapon meant to detonate in the upper atmosphere, creating an EMP. The weapon was developed during the Cold War, and has now been stolen by the Janus Crime Syndicate, whose heads include Xenia Onatopp. General Ourmunov is also suspected to be a part of it.

This information all comes out during an exposition speech, as is standard for a Bond movie. But after that speech...OH...OH, it’s so good. See, up until now, Miss Moneypenny was really the only major female recurring supporting character in Bond’s life. But we’ve flipped the script, having M played by Dame Judi Dench. And lemme tell ya...what follows is Dench REAMING BOND THE FUCK OUT. And it’s glorious.

Mind changed, M is now my favorite character. She tells him what’s what, then gives him his mission: get GoldenEye back.

We finally get our big gadgets showcase, as we see...Q (Desmond Llewelyn)! First introduced in From Russia With Love in 1963, Q is the MI6’s spy gadget man, and has been played by Llewelyn since then! He’s the only remaining cast member from the original Connery films, and it’s awesome to see him here! He’s been in more James Bond movies than anyone else, at 17. Sadly, he died in 1999, but it’s still cool to see him! We get cool gadgets, of course, including a pen grenade, a car with missiles behind the headlights, a leather belt with a grapple, a LOT of shit in the background, and a missile hidden in a leg cast and wheelchair. This is such a funny sequence, and absolutely the best scene in the movie so far, holy shit. More of THAT, please.

Meanwhile, in St. Petersburg, the General finds out that Natalya is alive, as well as Boris being missing. Calling it now, he’s been taken by Janus, or he’s working with them. Bond arrives and meets up with CIA Agent Jack Wade (Joe Don Baker), whom I also really like. He’s had enough of Bond’s spy bullshit, and he cuts to the point. He also identifies himself by showing a rose tattoo with the name of his ex-wife, Muffy. Yes, really.

Bond meets up with a Russian gangster whom he has a...pre-existing relationship with. Apparently, he shot him in the knee, then slept with his wife. You stay classy, Jimmy. You stay classy. This man is Valentin Zukovsky (Robbie Coltrane), an ex-KGB agent and current gang leader. He tells him that the head of Janus is descended from Cossacks, a group of Russians that worked for the Nazis in World War II.

Natalya finds a way to contact Boris over the internet, who tells her to trust no one, and sets up a meeting with her at a church. This is, of course, a trap, as Boris is working with Janus. Xenia, for her part as a Bond Girl, does her duty and finds James to have sex with. Xenia, it should be noted, is ABSOLUTELY THE FREAKIEST of the Bond Girls. Like, Goddamn is she kinky, you have no idea. Like...is this sex or a fight scene? The film genuinely can’t decide.

Bond forces Xenia to take him to the head of Janus, who’s in a Soviet statuary of some kind. And who’s waiting there but…

Yup. Called it.

See you (and Sean “died, but didn’t die, and is a villain, but is still gonna die” Bean) in Part 2!

[dysphorie]

The Slipknot Incident

Anon, I’m an idiot and tunglr is a functioning website, so I lost your ask while trying to edit shit SO it was just easier to write this up. I doubt many people want to know, and I don’t blame them. It probably wouldn’t seem like a big deal to someone it didn’t happen to! And maybe I should just still be keeping it to myself, because who cares! Amirite? But no. I’ve decided that I want to write it all out for ME. So. Very long post ahead and I’m sorry about that but you need to know EVERYTHING for it all to really make sense.

So, flashback to 1999. I'm 15-turning 16. I have this boyfriend, kirk. He's obsessed with kurt cobain and everything grunge, and uses this to belittle the fact I like all kinds of music, particularly heavy stuff.

He was also an abusive cunt. Verbally and physically. Very controlling, HATED it if i went in the mosh pit (which I L O V E D, and glasgow moshpits are legendarily rough) because "that's not what girls do. And i know this is wrong, and he's wrong, and I shouldn’t put up with it, but I do! Cos I'm 16 and "in love"!

I also have two big sisters, one of which is...a handful. Very dramatic, very argumentative, and very good at getting people to take her side (steeeeeeff you've got to let her take xyz of your things, she has a baaaaaaaaybeee!) We get on amazingly NOW, but then not so much.

So, fastforward to Feb 2000. Slipknot are playing at glasgow barrowlands, my favourite venue ever, and slipknot were already my favourite band (s/t had hit, the world went wild). And I managed to get two tickets!! So kirk tells me in no uncertain terms that I've to give one to his little sister, nicky, who is a year younger than me. I'm like um ok sure, cos i hadn't planned who i was going with yet, my mum just got two tickets just in case. So I say i will, and that's that.

But oh no it isn’t. because my aforementioned sisters birthday is at the end of Feb! And my family are like, you’re giving her the other ticket, right? And no amount of no, I already promised it to Nicky would suffice. Because SHE’S YOUR SISTER AND SHE NEVER GETS TO DO ANYTHING COS SHE HAS A BAAAAAYBEEEEEEE. She didn’t, and doesn’t like Slipknot or either of the support act (Kittie and, thankfully, my good pals One Minute Silence who I’ve seen more times than I’ve had hot dinners)

So I explain this to Kirk, sitting in his room one day. He. Goes. B a l l i s t i c. I’ll miss the details but he explains that I WILL find a way for Nicky to go to this sold-out gig and, actually, him too while I’m at it. Because I have a reputation for being able to blag onto guest lists, it shouldn’t be too hard, right? So ofc I’m scared and promise I will.

The day or so before the gig, Slipknot did a signing in a Virgin Megastore that had recently opened. My friends and I were so excited, we were there from crazy early in the morning to get stuff signed (there ARE photos somewhere in the ether, who knows where, not me). But I’m also terrified Kirk’s gonna find out I’m there, cos he didn’t want me to go. That’s it. We had no idea what the band looked like yet so it wasn’t that kind of jealousy. But anyway...

The signing was great. Got my shit signed, Sid and Chris were weird assholes cos that was their schtick, Jim and Mick gave me the best cuddles, CRAIG SPOKE TO ME cos I have him a wee pin badge and he mumbled “No one ever gives me anything...”, and I gave Joey and Corey nailpolish. Joey looked terrified, Corey was incredibly thankful, and pulled me in for a hug. That he wouldn’t let me out of (not in a forceful way, just in a heeeeey lady let me hug on you for a while) and I’m like uh *panics in 16 not that he knows that cos tattoos and piercings and huuuuuuge boobs* and he says some very suggestive things and my friend said aye she’s into all that freaky shit too and I’m dying inside. Offers were made, I said uh lol maybe bye, and go home on cloud nine.

Until my friend who spoke to Corey tells Kirk what happened. Thankfully I wasn’t gonna see him until nearly door opening gig time, but the phonecall we had was...unpleasant.

So it’s the day of the gig, I go to Glasgow stupid early to meet the OMS boys and beg and plead for them to put Kirk and his sister on the guest list. And they do! Because I cry and tell them everything and I have to make their singer promise not to wait outside and beat him up. I could tell you what I was wearing: a deftones baseball ringer I lost my birginity in, baggies, and a powerpuff girls hoodie. My hair was blonde and green. I was wearing my favourite converse that Kirk hates because they were All-Stars, not One-Stars. And Corey wore All-Stars, was I wearing them because HE wore them? 

My sister turns up before the doors open. I’m at the front of the queue cos I want to be down the front. My sister and Kirk are both like lol no, because YOU need to  look after your sister (who is 24 to my 16 at this point) because she’s tiny and I go to more gigs, and Kirk doesn’t want me anywhere near the front or the pit. Doesn’t want me to corrupt his sister. But she begs me to take her in the pit for “Spit It Out” and I promise I will.

OMS are incredible, Kittie were ok, Talena tried to crowdsurf and got dropped. I turned around to talk to my sister about it and she was...gone. I checked the bar. Nothing. The toilets. Nada. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck we’re supposed to get the last train home together, I HAVE to find her. Slipknot come on. We’re standing up the back near the bar, and he has a deathgrip on my wrist so I don’t run off. Then I think I see my sister!! I beg to go to her, he lets me go, but I can’t find her, then I can’t find my way back to him. By the time I do, he accuses me of finding and kissing my friend Mark (my best friend who I’d actually recently fallen out with and hadn’t spoken to in months and only knew he was at the gig cos I saw him at the signing. I didn’t see him at the gig). I don’t find my sister.

Kirk decides it’s time to go, so literally drags us away. As we’re nearly out the crowd, “Spit It Out” starts, and I rip my arm away from him and grab his sister, tell him FUCK YOU, WE’RE DOING THIS. So we do. For about...a minute or so. Then something grips my right wrist so hard and so tight I thought it was going to crumble. I literally trip over my feet as he drags me back out the crowd and out of the ballroom.

Now the Barrowlands has a set of couches just outside the main hall, it’s a popular meeting place, so I pulled away again there and said NO, I have to wait for my sister, I’ll see him later, he can go home. Furiously he stomps away. So I sit and wait. And wait. And wait. The entire venue empties and my sister is nowhere to be seen. Turns out she left just as Slipknot started and went home, and yes I got in trouble for that despite the fact she fucked off. The venue staff need me to leave. I’ve missed the last train, I don’t know what I’m going to do. So I walk outside thinking maybe I’ll see a friend I can stay with.

And there’s Kirk and Nicky. Standing by their dad’s car. Hey come stay with me, I didn’t want to go til I knew you were ok, he says, sweet as pie. We get home, everyone goes to bed.

Where he put self-titled on repeat, very low on his stereo, and proceeded to do some of the most horrific things that have every happened to me in my life, over the course of basically the entire night. I’m going to stay non-specific, but if you can imagine it, it probably happened. Including yes, what you’re definitely thinking of now. And he told me it was all my fault. Because I was weak and couldn’t say no. Because I was a slut who’d catch something by fucking a guy in a band just to say I’d fucked someone in a band. That he’d make sure Corey wouldn’t want me if I ever met him again. That it was my fault for talking to another, older man. I was getting what I deserved. He plugged his big fancy headphones into the stereo and made me listen to my favourite tracks over and over and over during some of it, and I didn’t dare make a noise because if his parents found out, if anyone found out, he’d kill me. And I believed him, because he kept a bolt gun in his bedside drawer, liked to pretend he was going to shoot himself with it it upset me and make me beg him not to. He said he’d make me do it to myself maybe, to keep his hands clean. I believed every word.

I went home the next day packed with toilet tissue that I had to clench to keep in place because my underwear had been ripped, not that it mattered because it was covered in blood anyway. When I got home I got a bollocking and grounded because of the shit with my sister. She remembers none of it, but she’ll still insist it was probably my fault she left.

When I saw that Slipknot weren’t playing “Spit It Out” in January I literally cried tears of relief. It took me a long time to be able to listen to Slipknot again, and when I did I was made fun of for liking them, which made healing harder because I was just trying to reclaim this thing that had given me such comfort in the past. So I’ve always kinda kept my love of them to myself. 

But when I hear “Spit It Out”, I feel his fingers close around my wrist. I feel the bones click and roll. And normally I can turn the song off if I’m having a bad day, but I couldn’t exactly do that live. That’s a huge part of why I feel me like, reclaiming Slipknot this past year was just...meant to happen. It was nearly 20 years to the day, I bought the tickets with MY money and was going MYSELF for MYSELF, they weren’t playing a song that I might have a fucking breakdown to. I met amazing people. I did EVERYTHING on MY terms.

Honestly I’ll never be healed of it. Duh. But I can talk about it now because I’ve had closure. I took back what was taken from me. Can’t make up for the missed gigs taken from me and the like but meh, that’s nothing compared to what it’s given me.

[sinnerburrito]

Jeremy's Companion Dialogue

It could have more stuff but i think it's big enough already.

- Can you tell me about yourself?

If you are up to listen the three hour long narrative of how I bravely explore the wasteland, sure why not?

I'm a courier, just like you, minus the whole "shot in the head" ordeal, used to be a prostitute too, a very good one, now I just deliver packages, read fortunes, steal, ya know, the usual.

- Fortunes?

Call it what you want, magic, lucky, madness. I know and see things... sometimes.

- And what do you see? (Answer differs based on karma/ affiliation)

You're a odd one, the cards you have is always shifting, but right now I see ...

Independent: a bright light smiles to you, thousands of wheels will guide you to freedom out a hill. The Bull don't know what's under its roves.

Legion: Blood paint the crosses, be careful with the fox, 83 is a large number and the man in gold will be not be followed.

NCR: Old laws of the old world has no place here, Shady, Sands, everything is corrupted. To others live some has to die.

MR. House: An delayed delivery, seven went and six came back, are you ready to bet all your caps in a platinum dream?

- Uh... Prostitute?

Look we all did things we are not proud of. It kept me alive and I'm thankful for that, but I'm out of this business.

-(Confirmed Bachelor) Maybe I can change your mind?

Maybe. But i think it would cost you 100 caps to try.

- Nice Tattoo.

Hey thanks. Is a family thing. And it actually goes around my body so if you're nice, I might show you one day.

-What's your thoughts on the Legion?

You're really asking me that? For real?

Okay I'll let that pass cause you got shot in the head but I'm a tribal and then a Legion slave some years ago. What the fuck you think it's my opinion.

-You don't look like a tribal.

Can't blame you. I only dance wearing my feathered headdress with paint in my body in very special occasions.

-Whats your thoughts on the BoS?

Same as the Legion, but not that bad.

I say i wouldn't beat the living shit of a Brotherhood member if they stood in a 1km radius near me.

- What's your thoughts on the White Glove Society?

They have quiet a....refined taste. Just stay away from them, trust me, better not try our luck to see if the rumors are true.

I know them seem polite but don't get fooled, I'm a fool myself and even I can can see what's up.

-What's your thoughts on the Omertas?

Oh, I'm going to be honest with you, they have a special place on my heart, there's not a single day I don't think about them what they did and keep doing.

I don't think they're a suitable sacrifice but this won't stop me to throwing every and single one of them into The Pit.

- Looks like you have something personal against them.

Is that obvious? Well, I do, and no, I won't elaborate.

- What's your thoughts on Mr. House?

Dude's a mineral and somehow still kicking everyone in the guts.

He's not so different from the Brotherhood. He only has more power.

- What's your thoughts on The Followers of the Apocalypse?

I'm on the fence about them. They're good but also not, kinda hypocritical if you want me to be honest, I think they sometimes act like everyone else is just poor lost stupid souls.

And for an anarchist group they depends an awfully lot on the NCR.

But you see, I have a talent to break bones, mine specifically, I don't know where I would be without their help. Probably alone in a shallow grave.

Oh fuck, sorry.

- What do you know about Benny?

The guys at The Tops? Head of the Chairman ? Checked train wreck?

A whole fucking lot.

If I could write it would be a hell of a book. He's an asshole as much he's ambitious.A compulsive backstabber too beautiful for his own good.

Don't underestimate him, if he have a plan for that chip of yours: Listen.

After his personal quest is completed

- So the Vipers are your family?

No No, I came out of a egg.

Yeah I guess so, I guess Ma still alive, somehow. I heard I had a sister once, ironically she didn't woke up after the Great Awakening but this was before I born.

My father....I have no idea, he was a missionary, whatever that means, i think he was sacrificed. That's all I know.

And you? Do you remember anything before the shooting?

- Yes/ No/ Just few things.

Well, maybe it's for the best, a opportunity to a fresh start.

- Let's talk about your tatics.

Constructive criticism only.

- Use a ranged weapon.

I was afraid you would say that./ Keep your distance just to be safe.

- Use a melee weapon.

No need to ask twice. / I'm already using? /Stab stab stab.

- Be agressive

Like that ever worked/ Have you noticed I'm not really an intimidating person?/ Like...angry?

- Be passive

For you? Always./ Anything for you, dear. /Oh,l I like your style.

- Wait here.

I'm not responsible for my actions from now on. / Okay I'll wait here...by myself...in this dangerous place. / Don't be long.

- let's trade equipment

These pockets are not just for Aesthetic. / If I find anything interesting I'll keep. / Be my guest.

- Overburdened

Okay, maybe it's better if my pockets just compliments my fashion sense. / Do i look like a damn Brahmin? / I knew you would break me in half but this is ridiculous.

- I would like you to go the Lucky 38.

(If his quest is not completed) The casino? At The Strip? Sorry, but I will wait for you at Freeside wandering aimlessly like a vagabond. / All those lights make me dizzy but okay / will try not steal anything there.

- Why don't go the The Strip?

Why don't you mind your own business? Sorry, it's not your fault. I just want to avoid conflict, that's all.

* In Courier's iron sight*

Do you have a death wish?/There's easier ways to get rid of me, ya know? / Of all the thing you could shove in my face, why the gun?

*Courier lays mine*

Uh...I feel like I should keep my distance./ It's a honor seeing such tatical magnificent working. / Full recovery my ass.

- It's time for us to part ways.

Awn fuck, I'm terrible with goodbyes./ I thought we had a great thing going on./ Okay, I'll go then. All by myself. In the big bad Wasteland.

*Player steals items or pickpocket*

Go, steal from the rich. / I could show you a tricky or two. / Just keep your hands off my stuff.

*Injured*

Have you seen my kidney by any chance? /Is this blood mine or yours? Nevermind. / I don't get paid enough for this.

*Crippled limb*

Quick question, bones are supposed to be inside the body, right? / It's ok, it's ok, I'm not going to cry. Not in front the mailman. / I don't think this sound is a good sign.

*Dying*

*Incomprehensible mumble* / See you in the other side. / Run...

Location

-Goodsprings

So peaceful, you can even hear the cazadores buzzing around./ Do you hear...never mind" (close to the cemitery) / Is it too much to ask to see your shallow grave?

Would you freak out if i told you never really left this grave? (By the Courier's shallow grave)

-The Strip

Can you believe a guy like *him* runs a place called The Tops?/ This place reeks of cheap cologne and bad sex. / Ugh, this lights will give me a migraine.

- Gomorrah ( unlocks completing his quest and let him in charge)

Welcome back! Thirsty? Hungry? Horny? We got you covered. / Hey if it isn't our Or Royal Highness of Vegas / Don't look in the backroom.

(If the player enter former's Clanden's secret filming room, after picking a Very Hard Lock, Claden himself will be tied up to a chair with a camera set up right before him. It's impossible to either free or kill him).

- Gomorrah / The Fort ( unlocks selling him back to The Omertas or to the Legion)

* Yawns* / Next time give me something to work with. / Already? (After the Player has sex with him in the Fort or Gomorrah)

How the hell do you still alive? / Enjoying the view, asshole? / Told you, you never left that grave.

-The Tops

Do i look presentable? / I know why we here, don't kill him, please. / I regret giving Benny that fucking gun.

- Companions

Craig Boone, why I feel a bitter taste whenever he's around?( When Boone is nearby)

Bad knees my ass, I saw him running from a cazador (when Raul is nearby)

How Grandma Lily can stand Leo? Guy's an asshole. (When Lily is nearby)

Think I have any chance? (When Arcade is nearby)

*Hums Heartaches by the Number* ( When Cass is nearby)

Don't you have to steal a child's Pib-Boy or something? (When Veronica is nearby)

[crimsonbluemoon]

Working For Love: A TerrorMoo Story 8/17

Ahhh nobody told me that last week I forgot to update this story. I’m terrible >.< I apologize to all who were looking for it. Please enjoy the new chapter!

Previous Part

Start from the beginning

Brian wasn’t a coward. 

If anything, he was the one in his group who had no problem walking up to a pretty stranger at the bar to flirt. Evan had only recently discovered his feelings for men, and then it didn’t matter because he only had eyes for Jonathan. He talked a big game when the stuttering disaster wasn’t within earshot, but would clam up fast in Jonathan’s presence. In his defense, his love interest was even worse, which Brian wouldn’t have thought possible until seeing just how many words could be flopped over and twisted when trying to ask Evan out on a date. Tyler always acted like he didn’t want someone, too busy with ‘the gym’ and ‘not killing you guys’ to think about a relationship. This wasn’t true, and Brian had to bite his tongue more times than not when Tyler would complain about Mini’s latest attempt to catch his attention. Nogla was hopeless, Anthony a serial dating app browser, and Scotty’s baby face always made potential dates put him in the friend zone. The fact that any of them had gotten laid was still a mystery for Brian. (Brian was still sour over Luke’s attempt to flirt with Brock, so he didn’t count.)

The point was, Brian knew how to use his good looks and Irish charm to score a number or date. 

But asking Brock out? That was complicated. 

“I don’t get how it’s complicated.” Nogla’s chip bag crinkled when he shoved his hand into it, ignoring Scotty’s look of disgust when he shoved a fistful into his mouth and continued. “He’s into ye, yer into him, and ye are both are good looking guys.” 

“And you both eye-fuck each other every time he comes in the gym.” Scotty’s helpful addition to the conversation lacked any sympathy, and Brian flicked his forehead before snatching the cleaning rag off the counter.

“Because it’s Brock. You both know how different that makes this.” 

“We do?” Nogla didn’t read between the lines very well, yet it still made Brian smack his forehead. 

“Why are you here on a Friday, anyways?” 

“Evan needed me to cover so him and Jonny boy could go to some concert.” 

“See? Even Evan’s manning up and asking Jonathan on a date. I’m sure neither of them acknowledged it was a date, but it’s close enough! If Evan can half-ass asked the love of his life on a semi-date, you can toss out dinner plans to Brock.” Scotty did make a good point, which was annoying and uncomfortable for Brian. 

“God, I’m pathetic if I’m taking dating advice from you two. Forget dating, I need to go marry Brock before I catch your single disorder.” 

“Hey!” They synced up close enough to be comical, and Brian snickered at himself. Even when he was miserable, he was hilarious. Giving himself a mental pat on the back when turning from the sputtering duo, Brian let his eyes skim the gym until he found his target. It was later at night, so not many people were still using the weights. Brock’s lone figure sat in the leg press, the familiar look of concentration crossing his face as his legs pushed the weights over him. It was nice to see his form had improved over the course of the month, meaning he’d taken Brian’s mini lesson on the weights seriously. Adding to that, Brock’s weight amount had increased, proving he wasn’t slowing down in his desire to be healthy. 

“Looking good there, Brocky.” Brian tried to lean his frame against the side of the machine casually, while accentuating how the uniform shirt tightened around his bicep. His eyes never fully set on Brock when he scanned the gym, making sure that their conversation wouldn’t be overheard. Brock didn’t like having audiences, and Brian’s sliver of self-doubt would probably become a crater if one of his regulars heard Brock shut him down. Hearing the machine stop moving, he knew he had Brock’s attention, so he let his lips spin an easy grin before setting his play into motion. “So the last time I checked, schools aren’t open on Saturdays and I have the entire weekend off. Which means we’re both probably looking for something fun to do, and I happen to know a great place for some grub-”

“Brian?” 

Brock’s voice cutting through his words made him jump, not realizing that he’d forced his eyes to stare at the lockers lining the wall across from them. It was a strange realization; he hadn’t wanted to look at Brock. Normally, people he seduced into his bed told him that one of his best selling points was the emotional charge in his gaze. It was a secret weapon that he could whip out at any time, whether it was to get sympathy from the cop he got pulled over by or to slip the final piece of clothing off his lover’s thighs. But here, he couldn’t get himself to face Brock’s reactions. Because… well, as absurd as it was, what if Brock said no? What if all this time, all these little hints of sparks and warmth between them had just been Brian wanting them? Sure, Brock flushed all sorts of colors when Brian flashed him a smile or called him a nickname. But wasn’t Brock also easy to embarass? Mini had proven that on more than once occasion at the gym. And Brock was just too nice to fully shut down Brian, unless he did something like ask him on a dateohmygodwhatdidhejustdo-

“Brian!” He sucked in a sharp breath, snapping his eyes back to the face that eased any turbulence in his stomach with a simple concerned look. “Hey, did you need something?”

“What?” His mouth felt dry, and his voice sounded different coming out. Brock noticed it too, his lips dipped down into a frown.

“Are you okay?” It was only when Brock popped out his second earbud to give Brian his full attention that Brian’s idiotic brain smashed him with a realization; Brock always listened to music when he worked out. Really loud, too. At times, Brian had teased Brock for blowing out his eardrums because of it. It was the only way that Brock said he could drown out the thoughts in his head. And like an idiot, too distracted by the uncharacteristic nerves that had crept through his blood, he’d forgotten that. He’d just been talking to himself, getting overwhelmed by the idea of getting rejected, and Brock hadn’t even heard him. If he could reach the cleaning bottle, he’d be drinking it to try and escape the Nogla-like situation. 

“Jesus,” he groaned, palms pressed over his eyes to try and make the world disappear. He hadn’t felt this out of his league since middle school with the football player. 

“Are you okay?” But the forgien sense of discomfort fled when hesitant fingers touched his cheek, startling him enough to drop his hands. Brock had pushed to stand while Brian had beat himself up, and the lack of distance between their chests made Brian’s shudder in pleasant shock. But it was a gentle touch, fingertips light when pressing to his cheekbone, that lit up Brian’s mind like fireworks. Brock rarely touched people; he was a sweet person, full of kindness and a heart that never knew how to protect itself. But he wasn’t a tactile person; he left the crossing of boundaries to Craig. In the months that Brian knew Brock, he couldn’t remember a time that the other man initiated a touch between them. The closest that he’d gotten was their hands brushed when exchanging the membership card. Even now, it was just a fleeting touch. Nothing to write home about, with no sexual charge or romantic force. 

But Brian wanted to lean forward and just live in the moment for a year. 

“I’m great,” he mumbled, forcing himself to keep his eyes open through sheer will. Brock’s gaze was still studying him with worry, the lower lip pulled between his teeth while he assessed the situation. Knowing his chance of asking his initial question was gone, Brian mustered up a casual smile. “Just wanted to...make sure your weights were set properly. Didn’t wanna see you hurt yourself.”

“Oh!” Brock’s look of relief of Brian being okay was instant, and Brian’s heart melted. Fuck. This wasn’t just an attraction; Brian had a crush on Brock. So much so, that even when he heard Scotty’s groan of disapproval and Nogla’s ‘what happened?’ in the distance, he didn’t care. Because Brock looked happy right now, and date or no date, that was really all Brian wanted. And in the moment he realized asking Brock out in a dingy gym wasn’t going to cut it. Brock deserved the world, and Brian could give it to him. He wanted to give him it, when the time was right.

Brian wasn’t a coward; he just liked Brock too much to treat him like everyone else.

Ahhh sorry guys for being a basket head. I really have been a bit off my game this whole vacation (and I still feel like crap if you can believe that). But as always, like, reblog, and let me know what you think!

[m39]

History of the Creed - Part 1: Assassin’s Creed 2

So… I’ve decided to do a marathon of my favorite game series, Assassin’s Creed (minus [probably] the first one) because Valhalla (which I’ll not buy until one year after its release) and some part of me decided that I should review them.

But wait a minute… I hear one you saying. Don’t you have over 250 Doom WADs to check?

Well, yes. But then again we kind of like to pile on new idea after another to do when there’s an opportunity. There is still the Galaxia WAD in make for one of you who liked my WAD reviews but I believe that the AC reviews will take a lead for now.

Also the reason that I’m not reviewing Assassin’s Creed 1 is because now when I think about it, it doesn’t sound that good as it was.

You are having a PTSD attack over flags, Templars and “side missions”.

Okay, let’s talk about something else. What I’ve decided to do is to play these games in a semi-completionist style, in other words: if there are some side activities in missions, I am not expecting to replay them to get it all 100% because I would go nuts restarting the mission/control point every time I failed this one, specific side activity. But the rest as in: all collectibles, side missions and places to clear? I’ll do my best to do them all… Even Odyssey���

…

I’m fucked.

But enough of that. Let’s talk about the game that is proclaimed to be the best game in this series.

ASSASSIN’S CREED 2 (The original PC release in Europe: March 5, 2010)

PLOT

It is Italy in the early Renaissance times. You are Ezio Auditore da Firenze, a young lad from a family of nobles who’s head of the family, Giovanni, is an Assassin. One day you find it out when your father and brothers are imprisoned and the next day they end up executed so you swear revenge on those Templar MoFoes for what they did.

Ah, revenge, the good, old plot device that never gets boring when it’s done right. And by being done right I mean when it has a nicely written characters. And that character is Ezio. I mean, who doesn’t like him? This motherfucker oozes with charm and personality. And Roger Craig Smith only solidifies it. He even gets a good character development. Example: When Ezio kills the guy who betrayed his family, his next goal is to run away to Spain with his mother and sister. After living two years in his uncle Super Mario’s villa, training under his eye and reading about Assassins and Templars, while still wanting to escape Italy, he’s now having a doubts about this plan and not until the harsh talk with his uncle decides that he’ll help destroy the Spaniard’s band of goons and get a revenge on him.

The secondary characters are fine but that’s it. They are perfectly okay with few of them standing out like Leonardo da Vinci (seriously, your best friend is Leonardo. Fucking. Da Vinci.). The villains are also just okay. Some of them have a personality of a Saturday cartoon villain, some of them are more dimensional. Rodrigo Borgia however goes to the former group. I mean, I don’t find him terrible at all, it just I wish he were better. But props to Manuel Tadros for playing him. He did a very good.

Oh yeah there is also some stuff in the modern times. It’s not bad but it basically exists only to move the plot forward and give us a reason why you can see the stuff from the past. But hey, the Desmond Saga is still better than this Initiate bullshit of the modern days plot.

GAMEPLAY

Assassin’s Creed 2 is basically the first game on steroids. You assassinate targets, you sometimes run using your parkour skills and sometimes fight with the enemies. There are some new stuff when you care this to Assassin’s Creed 1 like: Being able to use two hidden blades at once, healing yourself with medicine, shooting enemies with your loud hidden pistol, using smoke bombs, throwing money on the ground (LEAVE ME ALONE YOU BARD HYENAS!) and poisoning people, making them go apeshit (which I used only once in this run, in 13th sequence to be exact). Asides from the regular guards and archers there are three new types of enemies: Brutes, the heavy armored fatsoes, Agiles that can dodge your regular attacks and Seekers, who have a long ranged weapon and can easily find you in a haystack. You can also buy new, better weapon/armor and a bigger sacks for your knifes/medicine/poison. There is also a notoriety meter. When you fill it to 100% the guards will automatically be suspicious when you are in their line of sight. You can decrease it by ripping off posters, paying off heralds and killing the witnesses.

However, in spite of all of this crap that was added, this game feels easier than the first one. It’s not like it’s somewhat major con for me (I would rather play the game that is too easy than too hard) but I can understand some of you have a big problem with that. Imagine this: in theory, when you are spotted, you must use your abilities to run away from the enemies and use combat only as the last resort. But then I ask: why should you do that?! You are so powerful, you can destroy the entire Venetian army in 10 minutes! You are getting more durable and powerful with each sequence! Agiles can die by one counter attack! You can steal Brute’s/Seeker’s weapon, then one-shot them and then use their weapon to one-shot another fool who’s stupid enough to attack you! The fights are that easily! Sure it’s kind of tougher than I remember but still! Even if you don’t want to fight, smoke bombs helps you tremendously in both running away and fighting. Not to mention the enemies being stupid and that they couldn’t catch you most of the time.

Changing slightly the subject, you can also hire mercenaries/courtesans/thieves to help you distract guards. They are pretty helpful in missions, both the main ones and the side ones but outside of them they are rather useless because... well... I already explained you that.

Remember how in the first game you couldn’t swim? Well, now you can do this and use gondolas. Personally, however, I felt like I was faster on my own than on a venetian mini-boat.

ACTIVITIES

There is many stuff to do in this game. Like much more than you think. You can for instance buy paintings, collect money from chests/codex pages/feathers, find glyphs and solve their riddles, (like in previous game) you can climb on viewpoints to reveal a huge chunk of map, deliver letters, race to beat the best time of members of the guild of thieves, beat up unfaithful husbands, collect 6 seals to get Altair’s armor and fund for renovations of many buildings in Monteriggioni. Most of this stuff gives you more and more money every 20 in-game minutes by increasing the town’s status (which you have to withdraw from your villa).

In other words, the predecessor of your typical, modern, Ubiconic game. Personally I enjoyed doing these stuff but be warned; if you want to go after feathers, check a guide on their locations (same with Monteriggioni’s roman gods’ statues). I know at least one guy who went insane after trying to find the last one in Tuscany.

Liquid Bogan (in the background): F̴e̸a̴t̸h̶e̵r̵e̵s̷ ̶a̴r̷e̵ ̵l̴i̸f̵e̶,̴ ̶b̶r̸o̷t̷h̸e̸r̶.̸ ̶W̷e̵ ̶m̵u̵s̴t̴ ̸c̷o̸l̴l̴e̴c̸t̵ ̷a̸l̸l̷ ̸f̸e̸a̶t̷h̴e̶r̴e̵s̵,̶ ̷y̵i̵s̵?̶

He’s definitely fine.

THE GRAPHICS AND SOUND

This is where it turns into mixed-bag. While the sound effect are still very good, the graphics however, didn’t age well. Sure, the landmarks still look awesome and I love some of the details like the fact that some dust from buildings comes off when you climb but the character models… I don’t think they survived the time after the game’s release. The textures look sometimes blurry as shit, facial animation looks from time to time wonky, it looks especially bad in cutscenes. Then again, I don’t think people liked how they looked even in 2009 since I remember watching a review from my native country and the reviewer said that the character models lack polish when you take a closer look.

The soundtrack though… Jesus. Like, what can be said about it after so many people said earlier? There is a reason why people are calling it one of the best soundtracks in video games of all times. I would choose you three of those worth a listening but asides from the first three in the official soundtrack (for obvious reasons) there is too much to choose. So, here’s the whole bloody soundtrack.

STABILITY

Even though I played the PC version (and I heard that the PC version was a mess at the beginning) I didn’t really had many problems. Framerate was constantly smooth and I didn’t notice any drop in it. There were however 2 nasty bugs. The first one crashed the game when you have to choose if you want to play the memory or not; it happened at least 3 times. The second was when trying to assassinate Antonio Maffei and that monk fucker decided to noclip himself into the tower. Like- What the- WHAT THE FU-

Technical Difficulties.

Maybe it was because I paid the nearby herald. I don’t know.

SUMMARY

Despite its graphics getting somewhat dated and the game being kind of buggy, Assassin’s Creed 2 is still a fantastic game and I fully recommend it to you. Check it for yourself (if you haven’t already) and while at it, tell me your opinion about this game.

Thank you all for reading this long-ass review and I’ll see you next time.

Bye!

[captainsuke]

seventeen/eighteen

Deran had been on edge lately, in the long stretches between surf comps and missing days, sometimes weeks where Adrian doesn't get to see him because he's too busy with Cody family stuff; Adrian had hoped a day blocked out for surfing would settle things. Maybe even dragging the day into an evening someplace quiet and private. But Deran had been late, his shoulders hitched up and tense like his mother was riding around on his back and that seemed to set the tone for the afternoon.

Deran's emotions are an unstable thing on a good day lately, explosive and dangerous to everyone including himself, and his embarrassment for being late had only served to annoy him more no matter how much Adrian had tried to stress that he was just glad he could make it at all.

Deran had seemed to be smoothing out, or at least calming down enough to enjoy the waves.

There's a few people out today - not so many that it was impossible to catch a wave – but Deran's glaring at a group of older guys, maybe late twenties-early thirties. They keep floating closer and closer to the spot Adrian and Deran have staked out, catching waves that by rights should have been theirs.

Adrian's seriously considering suggesting they pack it in – find that quiet private place and get off handful of times and see if that has any effect on Deran's shitty mood. He doesn't want to deal with this, the posturing and the insults and the fighting, not today. Not when he's supposed to be cheering Deran up, not pissing him off more.

He's paddling back to their spot after catching a wave when he realizes he's left it too late.

Deran's moved closer to the group of men, shoulders braced like he's got his pack of brothers behind him instead of just Adrian too far back to be any good at being back-up.

“Hey fuck you!” Deran's yelling right up in one's face.

“Fuck you too, you little pussy. Get the fuck outta here kid.” The guy shoves at Deran, whose hand shoots out shoves it back away from him.

“Don't fucking-”

a punch

“Hey!” Adrian yells as he fucking finally gets back.

Blood dripping from a split in Deran's lip but he doesn't look anything but annoyed.

“Come on, guys.” One of the friends says, tired.

“He's just kid, Rob.” Another says and Deran stiffens at the words.

The guy, Rob, snorts, looks away, mutters something derisive that Adrian can't hear but Deran makes an angry noise, the guy ignores him and starts paddling for a wave. Deran's face darkens and before Adrian can say anything he's going for the same wave.

They both managed to catch it, but they're too close and the clash before going down in a messy mash of body, waves and boards.

Adrian sees Deran's board fly up, maybe clips him from the way his body jolts, then falls beneath the wave crashing white water.

“Deran? Deran?!” Adrian doesn't know why he's yelling, he can't see anything, the waters too choppy, too foamy to see anything beneath it.

Rob's is paddling back red faced and angry but he looks around, almost worried when he realizes that Deran's not come back up.

Deran's board floats free and he's not coming up. Adrian paddles over to it, corrals it in and checks it over; the leash is intact but Deran's nowhere to be seen.

This can't be happening, Deran can hold his breath for a long fucking time but if he's knocked out that doesn't mean shit. This can't be happening, Adrian thinks, looking around wildly as if he's just not looking hard enough.

A hand shoot out of the ocean, grabbing Rob's wrist, The guy tries to jump back as Deran's head surfaces, and Adrian feels a swell of relief even though there's a dark look in his eyes that makes Adrian shiver in a way that has nothing to do with the wind that's picking up.

He watches as Deran's shoulders shift back as his chest expands, taking several deep breaths before dragging the guy down, both of them disappearing with Rob's high pitched shriek of terror.

There's a long silence as they all just float, Adrian with relief that his idiot best friend hasn't drowned himself, he doesn't particularly care about the other surfer, you start fights on the ocean eventually you're going to come up against someone whose more than ready to hit back. The other surfers seem to be in shock, they're half calling out, half just looking around like they can't believe what just happened.

They're both down for a long time.

Finally the guy pops up out of the ocean some fifty feet away from where they're all floating. He's half crying, half gasping for breath as he swims back to his friends and his board.

Deran surfaces lazily like he doesn't care one way or another if he ever breathes air again.

Seawater's dripping down Deran's face mixing with blood leaving lines of dark pink down the sides of his face, running down to stain the splashes of color on his wetsuit.

There's no more name calling, no bravado. The ocean's gone quiet as the group paddles back to the beach, watching Deran with wild eyes.

“Whose the pussy now?” Deran asks no one. His voice is mean, but not like Adrian's heard before; it's cold and wild, twisted into something unhinged. The look in his eyes as he watches them swim - run – away is no longer a warning, it's a dare, an invitation, begging for a fight, for a chance to prove something.

They stay out for a little longer but neither of them have their hearts in it. Deran's head is still steadily dripping blood and every fresh run of red fills Adrian with worry.

Is he swaying because of the tide, or is he about to drop from a concussion?

Finally, after Deran had bombed out on a particularly easy wave, Adrian decides they need to go in, Deran's just gonna keep getting more and more frustrated, fucking up simple shit and building himself up into a Mood, which Adrian is too tired to deal with on a good day.

“I'm beat, man,” Adrian says, as Deran scowls out at the horizon. “Wanna get something to eat? Chill for a bit?”

Deran looks at him, the two of them bobbing on the waves looking at each other, then he snots an impressive amount of seawater out of his nose, closes his eyes and finally looks as tired as he's no doubt been feeling all day, nodding

“Yeah, a'ight.”

By the time they get to the beach and hit the showers Deran's eyes are drooping in a way that makes Adrian's stomach flip in worry. He grabs Deran by the arm, jerks him around til his heads in the sunlight and maybe Adrian can see where the fuck all the bloods coming from.

“Hey! Ow, what the fuck?” He snaps pulling away, an arm coming up like he's expecting to need to guard himself, “Jesus Christ, what's your fucking problem?”

“I was worried, asshole!” he fires back and Deran's staring at him, mouth open, red spreading across his cheeks and burning the tips of his ears.

Deran shakes his head then drops down on one of the benches with his head bowed. There's a good size cut running through his hair near the crown, but it looks like it's just weeping blood now, not pouring out, maybe its not too deep, maybe it is okay.

Deran lets him fuss for longer than Adrian thinks is usual, so it must hurt some, but he only gets about a two second look at his pupils before Deran's standing up and toweling the last of the water off.

He's a sight with his wetsuit pushed down to his hips but Adrian is for once not just enjoying the view, not with the way he's gingerly trying to dry his hair, the towel coming back a little more red each time.

Adrian's fingers twitch to get another look but he holds off, he can wait til they're back at the house, when they're away from prying eyes.

“You know, Nico got me a video of years Mavericks, we could get take out and watch some real pros.”

Deran throws the towel at Adrian with a laughed fuck you.

“Hey I rode waves at Mavericks.”

“You were in the hospital for two days because you nearly drowned.”

“That was at the end!” Deran defends, “I rode ones before the last one.”

They joke about Deran's ill-fated trip to the big waves as they shove each other towards the scout. Joke like Adrian hadn't spent hours worrying when Craig and Deran hadn't returned from Princeton. When he'd had no way to contact them and he didn't dare go and ask Smurf because he knew Craig and Deran had run off, taken the five hundred mile roadtrip to Half Moon Bay without asking for permission and things were already weird at Casa Cody that month.

Anytime he'd spent at the Cody household lately had already been tense, every conversation between family had been filled with not so subtly hidden barbs and Adrian had to pretend he was too stupid to realize the reason behind all he interpersonal hostility was the lack of high stake heists in the news the last couple of months.

So he'd waited, worried, and when a pale Deran with dark rings around his eyes had come back late, boasting of the waves he'd ridden, the board he'd snapped and the time he'd spent held under by relentless waves, and when Deran was back and okay as he was going to get, Adrian had tucked that worry away . Because he knew the hell Dean would be getting at home, and he wouldn't make it hostile here as well.

Adrian thinks sometimes the only reason he and Deran have stayed so close is that Adrian knows when to push and when to let things go.

He throws the towel back, puts a flick on it so the wet part slaps Deran in the face.

“Fuck you, man.” Deran says, a smile in his voice, throwing the towel in the back of the scout and head towards his pile of clothes in the front seat.

Adrian's settling his board in the back when notices Deran's gone quiet. He looks up to see Deran's head bowed over his phone, fingers white where he's gripping it hard.

Adian doesn't need to ask to know what that's about and he feels a burst of rage. Can't Smurf leave him alone for one fucking day? Is one afternoon too much for Adrian to fucking ask?

He tries to tamp that rage down, be practical, some of their skate crew friends were talking about hitting the waves today, they could be still around to take Adrian home if Deran's gotta cut.

“I can get a ride from one of the guys, if you've gotta go.” Adrian keeps his tone even as he suggests it.

He's not mad at Deran, he tells himself, no matter how much Adrian might wish he'd stand up to his mom. They're still kids and Julia's sudden and complete fall from grace was still fresh enough in everyone's mind. No matter how much Adrian he'd love to see Deran out from under Smurf's thumb, he doesn't know if Deran would survive being cut from his brothers, thrown to the mercy of the world without anything but a propensity for violence and theft.

Deran's carefully blank face crumples for a moment before he pulls it back together. When he looks up he pastes on a grin he obviously isn't feeling, shrugging with an exaggerated I don't care.

“Nah, fuck it, I got time, it's fine.” He says though the way he scratches at his neck as he texts back an answer says that's probably a lie. Adrian let's him have it, sometimes if you said something enough it could become a sort of truth.

The short drive back to the house Adrian shares with Chad is mostly silent, Deran and Adrian both half starting to say something – anything – and then failing, in between the ding of Deran's phone's notifications, the harsh noise making Deran's shoulders pull up tight with tension.

When they finally pull up in front of Adrian's house, Deran swallows a couple of time before finally speaking.

“Sorry, man.” Deran says, his voice sounding rough as he stares straight ahead, like he can't look at Adrian.

“It's okay,” Adrian shrugs, “Give us a call when you can.”

Adrian reaches a hand out but Deran flinches back, shoulders flexing outward like he's trying to pretend he didn't just do it, like he's trying to pull together the posture of someone who didn't give a fuck, like he's not looking around wild eyed like he's somehow impossibly expecting his mom to be hiding outside Adrian's house waiting to catch him acting gay.

Adrian doesn't know how he has the energy for it, all tense muscles and constant self correction, Deran cares so much he makes Adrian tired just watching him try to please everyone while yelling loudly about how he doesn't care.

Adrian sighs and lets it go as Deran looks down at his lap hair falling down to cover his face.

Neither of them say much as Adrian retrieves his board, pats the Scout as he passes behind it.

He calls out a see you as he walks away and gets a grunt in reply.

Out of the corner of his eye, as he unlocks the door, he can see Deran staring at him, a weird almost wistful look on his face. Adrian thinks of turning back, of waving goodbye, of telling him he's a fucking pussy, of stalking back and kissing him in the broad daylight and to hell with everyone and everything.

Instead he lets Deran have his moment of private regret, and swears one day it's gonna be different.

[sachigram]

Infinity, With Coffee Rings Chapter 4:

((click here to read on ao3!!!))

Tweek's used to not sleeping through the night. People in his life have always blamed the caffeine, but the thing is, Tweek can't remember ever sleeping soundly, even before his dad handed him his first mug of coffee, bitter and black. Tweek's always found something else to do at night besides sleeping, since everyone around him is unconscious. It's his “me time”, the only time of the entire day no one expects anything of him.

What Tweek isn't used to is being held. Not just being touched in general, which he also isn't used to, though the various hugs from his old childhood friends are piling up lately. Craig is holding him, is holding him tightly, and Tweek should feel trapped, but he doesn't. He feels warm, not just from the heat of Craig's body next to his, but also inside, like how he feels when he sips at his hot coffee. Tweek's never liked iced coffee for this reason. It doesn't have the same effect.

Craig shifts behind him, snorting a little, his breath ruffling Tweek's hair. Tweek wonders what he's dreaming about, if he dreams. Tweek doesn't dream often, but that's probably because he doesn't stay asleep often enough to activate the REM cycle. Sighing softly, Tweek closes his eyes and wills himself to drift off, but it doesn't work. His mind is still racing.

Craig's face is buried in his hair. Tweek worries how he might smell, but he showered today before Craig showed up randomly, and Tweek guesses shampoo is probably the best thing for hair to smell like, right? He shifts a bit in Craig's grasp, his arm going to sleep under him. Carefully, he maneuvers himself to roll until he's on his back, Craig's arm still over him, Craig's face still burrowed into his hair. The last thing Tweek wants is to wake Craig up. He's had a week, and Tweek hasn't done anything worth mentioning. Tweek probably should have told Craig how shitty he is at sleeping before they went to bed, right? But surely Craig knew already? They message at all hours, and Craig is always the first to stop responding because he falls asleep. Then he'll wake up and Tweek will wait for his messages, responding instantly when he receives them. It's a routine now, one he looks forward to. It'll be hard to not constantly check his phone in the morning, even with Craig right beside him, in real life.

The stars on the ceiling are losing their glow, but Tweek can still barely make out Ursa Major and Minor, but if he didn't know he was looking at it, he wouldn't be able to tell Orion apart from any of the other stars. He and his dad arranged the plastic stars like this when Tweek was small, and it's a good memory, one of the few Tweek has of his parents. His dad was more lively back then, full of motivation. Now both his parents are just as drugged as Tweek is, if not more so, though for different reasons.

The room starts to lighten as the sun slowly rises, signaling a new day and the end of another night Tweek didn't sleep through. He sighs again to himself, knowing soon enough his mom will poke her head in to see if he's awake to open the coffee shop. Tweek wonders if Craig being here will deter her, but he assumes it probably won't. He's nothing if not free labor to his parents. He's never had a real job, and with his mounting list of mental disorders, he probably never will.

Sure enough, about fifteen minutes later, his mother opens the door, looking him over. Tweek pretends to be asleep, nestled close to Craig, wondering if it'll bother her. Neither of his parents are homophobic, as far as he knows, but they've never actually discussed it openly. Tweek has never liked a girl before, and doesn't think he ever will, but it seems to be the least of his issues.

After a beat of silent scrutiny, the door slips shut, and Tweek is relieved she didn't press him to open. He doesn't mind working, but he'd much rather spend time with Craig while he's around.

“You still awake?” Craig asks quietly, but it's enough to send Tweek jolting out of his skin. Craig looks at him sleepily, a frown on his face. “Sun's up.”

“I don't really, uh. Sleep? I'll pass out for like an hour later, it's cool. Did I wake you up?” Tweek says hurriedly, rolling so he's facing Craig.

“No.” Craig yawns, tightening his grip on Tweek's side and yanking him closer. “'S still early as fuck. Try to sleep again.”

“I should probably get up. Open the shop, let you sleep,” Tweek mutters. Craig makes a disapproving noise.

“What you should do is sleep, you jittery brat. Just for a while.”

Tweek isn't sure that's true, seeing as how he's been trying to sleep this entire time, but he also really doesn't want to get up and leave Craig alone, so he decides it's worth a shot. He timidly presses his face to Craig's chest, breathing him in, and it's all the permission he needs to move closer when Craig tugs him forward gently.

“Clingy,” Craig says.

“Shut the fuck up and let me sleep,” Tweek replies, and Craig snorts in delight.

***

Tweek manages to doze off until it's Craig gently waking him by getting out of bed. Tweek looks up at him half-asleep and surprised he feels groggy at all, like he could sleep longer if he tried. Craig looks much more alert, like he's been awake a while. His eyes soften as he looks down at Tweek.

“Sorry. I gotta go to the bathroom so bad. I've just been holding it since you were snoring so soundly.”

“I don't snore,” Tweek says, but he isn't sure.

“You can sleep longer if you want. I was thinking I'd shower before we go meet Clyde,” Craig says, and Tweek shakes his head, but makes no effort to get up. He inches towards the side of the bed Craig vacated, burying his face in Craig's pillow.

“'S colder without you,” Tweek murmurs, already falling back asleep, but he hums softly at Craig's hand petting through his hair.

About an hour later, they're entering a diner where Clyde is waiting for them, and beside him is—

“Token?” Tweek asks, and he jumps when Craig is hurriedly leaving his side and all but jumping in the booth into Token's arms.

“Hey, guys,” Token says warmly, laughing as Craig's long limbs wrap around him. “It's surreal to see you two attached at the hip again. Takes me back to elementary school.”

“They're obsessed with each other,” Clyde inputs, and Tweek feels himself blushing as he scoots into his booth, his eyes on the table.

“Shut up, Clyde,” Craig says. “I'm having a moment with our sexy friend, here.”

“Bitch, you haven't hugged me yet,” Clyde says, poking Craig in the side, and Craig stretches forward to drape himself in both Clyde and Token's laps, his shoes poking out into the walkway.

“How have you been, Tweek?” Token asks.

“Um, good? I mean, good! I've been...good,” Tweek says. He's feeling almost drugged from being woken from such a deep sleep, and seeing Token caught him off guard. Tweek doesn't remember feeling strongly about many people in his life, but he's always admired and respected Token, and now that he's looking back, he thinks Token might have been one of his first and only crushes.

“Good,” Token says back with a smile, and Tweek glances at him before looking back at the table.

“What's with you? Higher than usual today, Tweek?” Clyde asks, and Tweek glares at him.

“I don't know,” Tweek shoots back, “balder than usual today, Clyde?”

Clyde gapes at him while Craig cackles and Token puts a hand over his mouth to hide his smile.

“Fuck you, man!” Clyde huffs.

“Well, fuck you back, then.”

“See, that's how Tweek operates,” Craig says as he shimmies himself out of the other booth before joining Tweek in theirs. “He makes you think he's this shy, cute little thing, and then he goes for the eyes.”

“It's just that I'm not high! That's mean!” Tweek defends.

“I have cancer. You're mean!” Clyde counters.

“We're all mean,” Craig says with a shrug.

“Speak for yourselves.” Token chuckles, looking at his menu, and Tweek does the same, avoiding Clyde's pout, though he's sure Craig is making faces at Clyde across the table.

When the waitress arrives, Tweek immediately orders coffee, and everyone else orders breakfast, but Tweek still hasn't decided on what he wants, or if he's even hungry. Craig frowns at him while Tweek sips his coffee, and Clyde snorts.

“You better eat something, Tweek, or your boyfriend might have a heart attack.”

“Fuck off, Clyde,” Craig says flippantly, still looking at Tweek. “Are there not any vegetarian options here? We can go somewhere else.”

Tweek looks at Craig, surprised and touched by his thoughtfulness.

“No, it's fine! I can have eggs. I just haven't decided if I'm super hungry yet. I'm still half-asleep.”

“How can you have eggs if you're a vegetarian?” Clyde asks.

“I'm an ovo-lacto vegetarian.”

“A what?”

“I got a huge veggie omelet if you want some of mine,” Token offers. “I'm not super hungry either, but as long as I don't have to fight you for the bacon, I'll share.”

Tweek laughs fondly, feeling accepted, as he always has with them. Even snooty Clyde doesn't mind his presence as much as he pretends to. He's like that with all of them. Tweek used to think he was being bullied until he realized he's always given back just as good as he's gotten, and he's always appreciated being included by them, especially while rumors about him and the things wrong with him circulated around their town.

“Thanks,” Tweek says softly.

“Well, I got french toast, and you can't have any of it,” Clyde says with a smile, and Tweek laughs again.

“Yeah, I know your addiction to sugar, Clyde. I won't ask you for your vice.”

When the food arrives, surprisingly, Clyde is shoving a fork in Tweek's face, instructing him to try it, and Tweek does, missing the delighted look Craig is giving them. They all end up sharing with Tweek, who has to ask the waitress for an extra plate to avoid being fed from each of their forks.

“So, how'd Clyde sweet talk you into coming back, Token?” Craig asks as he pushes his pancakes towards Tweek, who is already pretty full.

“I was planning on coming soon anyway. Clyde's been threatening to blackmail me if I didn't come back to see him during his treatments. Then you guys said Tweek was back, and I was intrigued.”

“What blackmail could Clyde possibly have on you?” Craig asks with a snort.

“I have dirt on all of you except Tweek,” Clyde says. “It's only a matter of time before I find out some stuff on him.”

“I don't have any stuff,” Tweek says.

“That's what someone who has stuff says,” Clyde counters.

“So anyway, I missed you guys,” Token says. “Especially you, Tweek, what have you been up to?”

Tweek blushes again. He doesn't have any lingering feelings from his long ago crush on Token, but he does still ogle at how genuine and warm Token is. Weird things have always happened in South Park, and all of them are a little desensitized, but Token has always given off non-judgmental vibes, and Tweek has always admired him for it.

“Oh, uh. Moving back has been weird. But like, a good weird? Everyone changed so much. Even Cartman gave me a weird one-armed hug thing. I kind of shoved him off, but it just made him laugh. I think when we were kids he would have punched me for shoving him.”

Token makes a face. “Don't hang out with Cartman, Tweek.”

“That's what I said,” Craig agrees.

“I'm not! I work for the public, guys, I can't control who I sell coffee to.”

“Why not? Your parents own the store. Just hang up a sign banning Stan and his band of pricks,” Craig says.

“I don't have any hard feelings towards any of them. Sometimes they made growing up here fun.” Tweek shrugs when they looks at him incredulously. “They reminded me sometimes that even with all the bizarre stuff going on that I was just a kid. Their schemes were distracting. Plus, they hunted underpants gnomes with me when even you guys wouldn't listen. Cartman pretended to beat one up with a stick while Kyle made gnome voices at him. It was fun.”

“That does sound fun,” Token says while Craig and Clyde make sour expressions at each other.

Tweek orders more coffee and physically fights away Craig's fork when Craig tries to get him to eat more.

“Anything cool on the agenda today?” Clyde asks.

“Cool? In South Park?” Craig asks.

“Fuck you, I mean because we're all back together.”

“We should get drunk,” Craig says.

“Tweek can't drink,” Clyde reminds him, and Craig looks mildly guilty about it before Tweek laughs.

“I don't want to drink anyway. You guys can. I'll make sure we all get back safely.”

“It's been a while since we partied together,” Token says, and Tweek's heart clenches. He missed all the partying with them, off somewhere else while they all grew up. Tweek doesn't think he would have partied anyway, but being around them would have made up for his sobriety.

“We could get some weed,” Craig says. “You can have that. You ever smoked, Tweek?”

“No.”

“I have a prescription, actually,” Clyde says, laughing to himself at the thought. “It's crazy, we used to have to buy from McCormick behind the school, and now doctors just give it to me because chemo sucks.”

“I better make sure I don't have to work tonight before we make all these plans,” Tweek says, not knowing what to say to Clyde. He knows Clyde doesn't want pity, even if Clyde acts like a baby a lot. This is serious, and none of them say anything, but Token does put a friendly hand on Clyde's shoulder.

“Even if you do work, the shop closes at ten. So we can still hang after,” Clyde tells Tweek.  

“You work all day, every day,” Craig adds. “You should be able to have a full day for your friends.”

Tweek feels a warmth spread through him at the reminder that they're his friends. He's never been good at talking to people or relating to them. South Park is a small town, and in a lot of ways, they all hate South Park for that reason. But at the same time, they've forged unbreakable bonds for that very reason, growing up together in such a small place.

“I'll talk to them and see,” Tweek says softly.

They make plans to meet up later when Craig drops Tweek off back at the shop. Tweek watches them drive off, immediately wanting to be back in the warm car, shooting the shit with them. Instead, he turns around and trudges into the heat of the coffee shop, where his dad is leaning on the counter.

“Well, there he is,” Tweek's dad says. “Your mother and I didn't know where you scampered off to.”

“Craig's in town. I thought— I thought Mom would tell you.”

“Ah, young Craig Tucker,” his dad says in that way that makes Tweek wonder if he's practicing to be a radio show host, like a detached voice-over. “I hope you didn't bring home anymore pets.”

“I didn't.” Tweek goes to put on an apron, but he pauses when he notices his mother appear from the back room. She never works in the shop anymore, and it makes his teeth clench in a way he doesn't understand to see her here.

“We were busy this morning,” she tells him. The underlying message is “where were you, you bad child, making your parents work so hard all alone.”

Tweek swipes a card and logs into the register, counting the amount of sales they did. It's not much at all. Not even enough to qualify as steady, let alone busy.

“Seems like you managed,” he murmurs.

“I just wish we'd have a notice when Craig is and isn't going to be here. We could plan the schedule accordingly,” his dad says.  

“You don't make schedules. We just work around each other, which usually means I'm the one opening and closing,” Tweek says. His parents stare at him, and he feels himself flushing under their gaze. “I just— I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be problematic or anything, I just really missed my friends, okay? And Token is back in town too, it's not just Craig. And Clyde is going through chemo. Is it so bad I want to hang out with them for a bit?”

“Of course not, Tweek,” his mom says, walking to him and smoothing his hair down. “We'd just like for you to let us know what you're up to. We worry about you.”

“Well, don't,” Tweek says stubbornly, then he smiles when his mom gives him a look. “I get what you're saying. Is it okay if I go out tonight after closing the shop?”

“Again?”

Tweek bites at his lip. They're chapped, he notes. He should get some balm later, lest his friends think it furthers their suspicions that he can't take care of himself.

“Yes. Again.”

“Would you be home in time to open up tomorrow?” his dad asks.

“I think so,” Tweek says nervously, not sure what he's so nervous about.

“Don't stay out all night, darling,” his mom says as she makes her way to the door. “Your medications cause drowsiness.”

“My medications don't work, Mom,” he reminds her, but she doesn't listen to him.

As soon as Tweek finds himself alone behind the register, he's gripping the counter and breathing hard. What's this even about? Why is he like this? He didn't do anything wrong, right? So why does he feel like he's in trouble for something?

“Shit, fuck, f-fuck,” he mutters, trying some breathing exercises. He jumps in alarm when his phone vibrates in his pocket. It's Craig, of course.

So are we down for tonight? Just got Clyde's prescription filled

Tweek takes a deep breath before responding.

Yeah we're good.

He pauses before adding.

I think I just got guilt tripped but I'm not sure.

Guilt tripped? Craig sends instantly.

Yeah like they said they were busy as shit but weren't and kind of just acted like I never do anything to help them even though I'm closing tonight and apparently opening tomorrow morning so.

Tweek sends it before he can think better of it. Then he backtracks, immediately feeling guilty.

It's just unusual for them. Most of the time they act like I'm not around so having their attention at all is kind of surreal.

When Craig doesn't reply for a few minutes, Tweek thinks he fucked up. He unloaded too much on Craig, who is probably reading this all to Token and Clyde, and they're laughing at how an adult man is scared of his parents. Is scared the right word? Is he scared of them? They don't hurt him. Shit. He doesn't know. He never knows how he feels.

His phone vibrates.

I don't like your parents. They do a lot to make you feel like an invalid and it's bullshit.

Tweek shakes his head because that's not true. His parents just know he can't fit into normal society and they've made a safe haven for him. There are reasons for all their rules.

They mean well. Anyway I'll be done around 10.

The bell dings, signaling a customer, and he puts his phone away, getting to work and ignoring the things Craig said. It's not the first time he's heard it. One of his psychiatrists in the past said the same thing, and Tweek wondered if his parents liked him better for being mentally ill, for thinking they had to take care of him and getting recognition from the town for doing so.

But that was a long time ago. If anything, he's proven to them repeatedly that he can't live alone, and another job outside of this place wouldn't cater to his schedule so well. Where else would he be able to shirk off responsibilities and hang out with his friends all morning? It's a miracle he's taking care of himself and Espresso so well. Maybe keeping the guinea pig alive is all the victory he can expect, and that's okay. If they recognize his progress, even if it's just that much, it'll be encouragement enough.

He knows by now to accept what comes, as it's as good as he's going to get.

[bestillmyslashyheart]

A Quiet Confrontation

Deran stubbed out the cigarette as the front door opened quietly behind him. He didn’t turn around as Adrian moved about the kitchen and disappeared into the hallway to put his stuff away. He thought about following, about welcoming him home as he usually did but instead he stayed where he was, soaking in the sounds of Adrian moving about their house.

He was terrified that this would be the last time he ever heard it.

“Deran?” He heard Adrian call softly from the other room. He didn’t answer.

“Deran?” Adrian’s voice was louder now as he came back into the kitchen. Deran heard him pause and assumed he was looking around. It wasn’t that big of a house and the Scout was outside so Adrian knew he was here. Soft footsteps alerted him that Adrian was coming close.

“Hey,” he said softly as he rounded the couch and saw Deran slumped into it. “I called your name.”

Deran looked at him, really looked. Adrian used to come home from competitions jazzed up, still riding the high of competing or even winning, but now-

Now Adrian came home with bags under his eyes and the light missing. Deran wasn’t sure where things had gone wrong but he knew that they had. Somewhere things had gotten terrible and he didn’t know when. Or how. Or why.

Adrian was an awful liar but it had never mattered before because he’d never lied to Deran. He’d never needed to. Deran was always the one who had secrets to keep.

Adrian pushed his hair out of his face and settled next to him. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Deran didn’t say anything, enjoying the concern in his boyfriend’s voice.

“You’re starting to scare me,” Adrian warned. “Is it Craig? Pope?”

Deran shook his head. “Are you seeing someone else?” Adrian’s hand stopped. “Or doing drugs?”

“Why-why would you think that, Deran?” Adrian asked, scooting back a bit. Deran hated that new inch of space. It reeked of guilt.

“Something’s going on with you. You’re lying all of the time and making shitty excuses to not be around and hiding things.” Deran didn’t raise his voice. He couldn’t. “I’ve tried to ask what was wrong but you keep brushing me off so I thought maybe I’m the problem. We never actually said we were exclusive so maybe-”

“No! God, Deran, no. There’s no one else.” Adrian refuted. Deran searched his eyes before nodding.

“Then is it drugs?” He asked. “You’ve been hanging out with Jack again and I know you hate the guy. The only reason anyone hangs out with him is for his drugs, so-”

Adrian let out a heavy breath and fell back against the couch.

“You’ve been losing, man. You’re better than this crap you’ve been doing out there and you know it.” Deran ran a hand through his hair. “I just can’t think of anything else that would make you do lose like that unless you were high or stoned or-”

“I’m losing on purpose,” Adrian admitted quietly. Deran turned to look at him but Adrian wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“Why?”

Adrian shrugged.

“That’s not a fucking answer.”

Adrian rolled his head to the side to look at him. “I’m dealing with it.”

“That’s still not an answer,” Deran wanted to yell but he kept his voice low. Anger had never gotten him anywhere with Adrian. Once upon a time, Adrian might have pushed back but ever since- Adrian doesn’t fight him anymore. If Deran gets too angry or loud or violent, he just leaves. And Deran knows if it happens too many times Adrian won’t come back. So he keeps it in check. No matter how much he wants to explode. “What is going on?” His voice was plaintive but he didn’t care. He needed answers.

Adrian stood up. “I’m not seeing anyone else and I’m not on drugs. I had a problem but now I’m handling it.” His voice faded as he walked into the kitchen.

Deran pushed himself up and followed. “What problem?”

Adrian shrugged as he pulled a bottle of beer out of the fridge. “A problem.”

Deran took a deep breath. “Something to do with Jack? Are you dealing?”

“No,” Adrian answered as he searched for the opener. Deran rolled his eyes and grabbed the magnetic one off of the fridge and handed it to him. Adrian grunted in thanks as he popped the top off and took a sip.

Deran sighed heavily as he pressed his back against the counter and looked at Adrian. Adrian avoided his gaze, staring out the back window at the ocean instead.

“Give me something, please,” Deran pleaded softly. “The last couple of weeks, hell the last couple of months, you’ve been scaring me, Adrian. Something’s wrong and you won’t let me help.”

“Help?” Adrian asked with a slight laugh. It wasn’t a pretty sound. “What? Are you going to throw money at it until it goes away?”

Deran’s brow furrowed. “Is this about the money thing?”

Adrian put his bottle down and braced himself against the counter as he shook his head, still not looking at Deran. “What do you mean by money thing?”

Deran shrugged even though Adrian couldn’t see him. “You don’t like me giving you money?”

Adrian straightened up and turned around. “You mean I didn’t like it when you tossed a stack of bills at me? I wonder why.”

Deran shrugged again. “I don’t get it. The tour can get expensive. I figured you could use the cash.”

Adrian laughed bitterly. “Do you know what that feels like, Deran? When you throw money at me? Especially after sex? It feels cheap. Like I’m your whore or something. You keep me around because you feel like it and then you pay me to keep coming back.”

Deran went rigid. “You’re not a whore.”

“I know that,” Adrian told him. “But sometimes I think you forget. You think money is the answer to everything, like it’s the only thing that matters.”

“You matter,” Deran admitted before he could stop himself. Adrian’s features softened and he smiled sadly.

“You matter to me too, Deran. But you’re not the only thing that matters to me.”

Deran grabbed at his hair in frustration. “I feel like we’re talking in circles. I still don’t know what’s going on with you.”

Adrian took a long pull of his beer, his eyes never leaving Deran’s. Deran waited.

“Okay.”

Deran raised an eyebrow. “Okay? Okay what?”

“Okay, I’ll tell you what’s going on. But you have to let me finish before you say anything.”

“Okay,” Deran agreed readily. He settled back against the counter and braced his arms against the edge.

Adrian finished off the beer and tossed it in the trashcan, not bothering to go out to the recycling.

“There was never a French board sponsor. I needed money and I didn’t want to ask you for any more.” Deran opened his mouth but promptly shut it at Adrian’s glare. “I get really uncomfortable sometimes the way you throw around money like it’s nothing. I never had much growing up so the idea of owing you fifty grand kind of makes my skin crawl. And that’s not even bringing up this house you bought for us without ever really asking me if I wanted to live with you or how this was going to go. I could never afford a place like this and I still can’t really let myself be at home here knowing it’s all yours and I’m just here because you let me.”

Deran opened his mouth to object despite what he’d agreed but Adrian put his hand over his mouth and glared at him again. Deran glared back but shut up.

“I needed to fund my surfing on my own so I found another source of income. Jack’s suppliers are branching out and they needed someone to smuggle the drugs out of the country so I’ve been serving as a mule and taking their drugs with me when I go out on tour. They fill surfing equipment and I just pack it along with my regular gear. The first two trips went fine. On the third they packed the board too heavy and I got pulled in by the DEA at the airport.”

Deran’s entire body tense at the mention of feds. Adrian looked away and stepped back.

“They offered me a deal. I help them get Jack and his suppliers and I don’t go to prison for 25 years.” Adrian took a deep breath and visibly steeled himself. “Before I went to Tokyo, I met with the DEA agent at the beach and he saw you and wanted to know who you were. I told him your name and that you were my roommate. I tried to play it off as much as I could but there’s a chance he might start asking me for information on your family. That’s why I’ve been steering clear of any talk about your jobs lately. I don’t want to have anything I can tell them.” He cleared his throat and Deran willed his heart to keep beating. This was like his worst fear come to life. “Anyway I’ve been throwing competitions hoping that the drug dealers will stop giving me runs and then I’ll be useless to the DEA. I’m giving them all I can right now but it’s not much.”

Deran sucked in a few harsh breaths. Adrian pressed himself against the opposite counter and looked at him uneasily.

“Are you done?” He asked when Adrian didn’t continue. Adrian just nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

Adrian raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t I tell you that I’ve becoming a federal informant?” He scoffed. “I can’t imagine why I thought that might be something you wouldn’t be okay with.”

Deran fisted his hair in frustration. “That’s not- are you telling them about me? About my family?”

Adrian shook his head. “No I told you, your name only recently came up because he saw us together at the beach. I’ve been trying to keep you and your family out of it entirely.”

“Then I don’t care!” Deran finally raised his voice and Adrian flinched. He took a deep breath. “Jesus, Adrian, why didn’t you just come to me from the start? If you wanted money on your own we could’ve come up with something better than becoming a drug mule.”

“Because I don’t need or want you to be my savior Deran,” Adrian answered coolly. “I had a problem and I found a solution. Yeah, I can fully admit that it was a bad solution but it was mine.”

“But I want to help you,” Deran told him. “Why is that a bad thing?”

“Because there’s no give and take with you. You want to help me and take care of me and give me money and a house and all of that is great but you never let me do that for you. This isn’t an equal partnership, Deran,” Adrian said, slightly exasperated. “I needed to take care of my own problems and not rely on you for everything.”

Deran opened his mouth and closed it again. “Do you- I thought- I thought this was going well.”

“It is.” Adrian promised. “It’s so much better than I ever let myself hope for, honestly. But that doesn’t mean it’s perfect. We still have our issues.” Deran nodded slowly and looked away. Adrian sighed and pushed off of the counter and stepped into Deran’s space. “We just have to talk more, okay? And listen more too.”

Deran nodded again. “And resolve your little DEA problem.”

Adrian sighed and dropped his hands from where they’d been playing with Deran’s hair. “Yeah, that too.”

“Throwing the competitions isn’t going to help you.”

“I know. I’m just sick of lying.” Adrian smiled slightly. “I know I’m terrible at it and it’s been driving a wedge between us.”

“You need to give the feds what they want.”

“What they want is the drug cartel.” Adrian told him. “And I can’t do that.”

Deran pursed his lips. “No. But Jack probably knows enough.”

Adrian looked at him. “And how would you like me to get that information out of Jack?”

Deran shrugged. “You won’t. Jack will come with you to meet with the DEA and sing like a bird.”

Adrian raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And why is he going to do that?”

“Because if he doesn’t, he’s going to find it very hard to live or work in Oceanside ever again. And that’s if we let him live.”

Adrian pushed a hand to the center of his chest and pressed hard, a glare glinting in his eyes. “You’re not killing him. You’re not killing anyone for me, ever.”

“If you want to fix this, you’re going to have to do things you’re not comfortable with,” Deran promised him.

“I don’t care. If it comes down to that, I’ll go to jail for the smuggling. But you’re not going to kill anyone for me, Deran.”

“Fine,” Deran agreed after a beat. He could tell Adrian was serious. “So we’ll just have to make it impossible for him to keep working in Oceanside. Or more accurately, his suppliers. And make sure his suppliers know that Jack is the reason their clientele has dried up.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Should make him more agreeable to your cause.”

Adrian stared at him. “This is part of that savior thing I didn’t want you doing.” His voice was odd. Almost like- no.

“If the alternative is jail or worse-”

“Yeah I know,” Adrian cut him off. “And I’m willing to make an exception.” He licked his lips.

Deran stared at him, sensing the sudden mood shift. “Really?” He arched an eyebrow. “Right now?”

Adrian shrugged. “Apparently. Who knew listening to you plan to coerce our high school friend into turning rat on a drug cartel to save my ass would turn me on?”

Deran huffed a laugh but Adrian cut him off with a hard kiss. Deran responded eagerly, both of them reaching up to tear at clothing.

“You should listen in when we plan our jobs from now,” Deran told him later when they were collapsed against each other and the counter. “Especially if this is my reward for sitting through some of those family meetings.”

Adrian laughed. “Maybe after we get this DEA shit sorted out.”

[kiingdcmscome]

Promises - Part One

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own any canon characters in this fanfiction, I do claim ownership of the original characters featured and mentioned in this work. This is an au / alternate timeline fanfiction for the TNT drama Animal Kingdom and will feature characters and events from that show. ( This is a rewrite of promises part one, which i posted a few months ago. I went back and reread it, and absolutely hated it, so here we go, hopefully this is better ).  (gifs and photos are not mine unless stated otherwise. this gif belongs to the lovely @demctozdemir​ and can be found here ).

Summary: Marley Dossier is lost. Her mother has just been arrested, her dead beat father won't pick up the phone, and her grandmother wants nothing to do with her. Unsure of what else to do, she tracks down her childhood friend, J Cody. Little does she know, she's going right back into the world her mother fought so hard to keep her from, and the world that destroyed her family before it even started. | This fanfiction takes place six months after the death of nineteen year old J Cody's mother Julia. J and his best friend Marley have been reunited, though their reunion might bring more heartache than either can handle.

Content Warning: Mentions of Absentee parents, drug abuse, jail/prison, homelessness. | My main character Marley is in a wheelchair, please keep that in mind. 

Word Count: 1.5k

       The hot California sun beat down on me and my muscles throbbed in protest. He better fucking live here. The house was nice, which made me think I had the wrong place. Those suspicions were confirmed as I approached the front door. An older woman, probably in her sixties, came out the front door before I even had a chance to knock. Dressed in those obnoxious printed yoga pants with short blonde hair and oversized sunglasses she reminded me of one of those "cool" grandma's you saw on tv.

       "Can I help you?" She looked me over. Starting at my slightly worn sneakers to my braided hair. She barely stopped to take in the wheelchair, which honestly surprised me.

       "I'm sorry, I think I have the wrong place." Turning away, I didn't get far before a familiar voice brought my attention back.

       "Marley?" I turned to see him, a smile erupted over my face. It was so good to see him, especially since I hadn't seen a familiar (nevermind friendly) face in over a week.

       "Hey J..." He didn't look half as happy to see me as I was to see him.

       "What are you doing here?" His question confirmed it. He didn't want me here, and I couldn't help the confusion and hurt that worked its way into my chest.

       "Well, you stopped visiting, so I thought I'd come out here, see if you were still alive." I didn't want to tell him the real reason, not yet.

       "Uh, Smurf...This is Marley, she and I grew up together." He introduced me to the older woman, who'd taken a step closer to me. She reached out her hand, and I offered mine. She didn't shake it, instead, she just gave it a gentle squeeze and gave me a smile.

       "He's being modest. Our moms actually used to do smack together."

       "Marley, this is my grandmother. Smurf." Shit, I just insulted this woman's dead daughter. Instead of appearing insulted, she just nodded, her smile growing slightly before letting go of my hand.

       "You kids hungry? I'll go and make you two something to eat." Before either of us could answer, she disappeared into the house.

       "So did you really come all this way just to check on me?" He questioned once she was gone. I contemplated lying to him but realized there wasn't any use, he'd have seen right through it.

       "It's a long story, so I hope you've got time."

       "Credit card fraud? How did that even happen?" I'd just got done telling him all the gory details of my mom getting arrested and charged with credit card fraud. We were sitting in the backyard, his feet dangling in the pool. "And this all happened two months ago? Why didn't you call me?"

       "I tried. Your number was disconnected or something." I leaned back in my chair, looking him over for a moment. "She was dating this guy Jimmy, you know, the manager at the restaurant. He's a real piece of shit. He was running some fraud scheme and she got caught up in it." I wasn't defending my mom. She'd been stupid, but if Jimmy hadn't dragged her into his shit she'd have never been arrested. "Her lawyer's advising she take a plea deal."

       "And how much time is she looking at?" His question had an answer I didn't want to think about.

       "Five years. Minimum." I sighed, leaning forward. "I can't believe this shit. The relapse, now this."

       "Relapse?"

       "Oh. I didn't tell you about that." I took a deep breath, staring down at my hands. "Yeah, about five months back, less than a month after your mom died...I got a call from the hospital. She relapsed. Clean eight years and then that shit."

       "Why didn't you call me?"

       "Cause your mom just ODed and died. You had enough stuff to deal with." I finally glanced up at him. "Besides, we weren't really talking."

       "Where are you staying?" He asked, changing the subject, which I was grateful for.

       "I was staying with Claudia. But she kicked me out after realizing I wasn't going to be able to pay rent." Claudia, my grandmother (if one can even call her that) hadn't wanted me there in the first place. "Rita let me stay at her place, but her grandkids needed the room cause her daughter got evicted. I tried contacting Charlie-" My dead beat dad. "But he didn't even bother picking up the phone. So, this past week I've been at that shelter over on Granger."

       "Shelter?" He stared at me for a moment. I could almost see the gears in his brain working to solve my problems, something he'd done since we were kids. "What about your uncle Eddie?"

       "Eddie's in New Mexico or something. I haven't heard from him in weeks. But don't worry, I'll figure it out." I take his hand in mine, glancing down at his knuckles. Bruised, which wasn't anything new. "You can't fix all my problems J, and I not here because I need you to. I'm here because I've missed you, and I needed a familiar face."

       He didn't get a chance to answer before Smurf popped her head out the sliding glass door beside us. "You kids come inside, I've got lunch on the table."

       The house was nice. Way nicer than anywhere I've ever lived. Nicer than anywhere J's ever lived too. For as long as I could remember, J's lived in the shitty apartment above the one me and my mom lived in.

       "Thanks for the food, Mrs. Cody." I leaned back in my chair, popping the last potato chip on my plate into my mouth. I couldn't help but stare at the place. The kitchen and living room itself was almost as big as my apartment.

       "Call me Smurf." She sat down at the table beside me, and I gave her a smile. "And you're welcome." I glanced over at J, who seemed to be watching us closely. I furrowed my brow, and he just shook his head.

       "So, how long have you two know each other."

       "Almost twelve years." It was so weird to say out loud. "Me and my mom lived in the apartment below him and Julia."

       "And how long have you two been dating?"

       "We're not." J and I spoke in unison. He looked to each other, a small smile forming on both of our faces.

       "We're friends. Best friends." Thankfully, someone opened the sliding door, breaking the awkwardness.

       "You fucking asshole." I glanced behind me. Holy shit. The person I should have been thanking for breaking the awkward silence was...hot...And covered in bright orange and blue paint splatters. Dark hair, tattoos, facial hair. I probably should have checked to make sure I wasn't drooling.

       "Oh Craig, did your brother shoot you with the paintball gun again?" I didn't have to know Smurf well to detect the mock concern in her voice.

       The door opened again, and another guy, blonde, definitely shorter than the other one, and also covered in paint came inside. "Don't even think about crying to Smurf. You shot me first."

       "Twice. You literally emptied yours into my back." He turned around, revealing large red welts on his back.

       "Don't start shit you can't finish." At that comment, the taller one, Craig, grabbed the blonde around the neck, putting him into a chokehold.

       "Boys, enough. Can't you see we have a guest." They stopped, both looking down at me. The blonde just stared a moment, but the brunette managed to muster a small smile.

       "Who's this?" He asked, staring at me long enough that I could feel my face heating. Jesus, stop acting like you've never seen an attractive guy before.

       "I'm Marley, J's friend." I offered a small smile to both him and the blonde, but neither of them smiled back. Instead, the blonde when to the fridge, and the brunette continued to stare at me.

       "Jesus Craig, you look like you've never seen anyone in a wheelchair before," J commented. He's done in it the past, especially when we were in high school. Anyone who looked my way wrong heard it.

       The blonde snickered, and the brunette turned away from me, also heading towards the fridge. "What're you making for dinner?" He grabbed a beer, tossing the cap into the sink.

       "We're having salmon. Marley, are you staying for dinner?"

       "Actually I have to get back." I looked at J, "Do you think you could give me a ride? I'm pretty sure my arms are going to be spaghetti tomorrow from the way over here."

       "Do you still live in J's old building?" Smurf asked.

       "Actually no." I wondered exactly how much more I wanted to say in front of a bunch of strangers. "I'm actually in-between places right now. There's this...Home, I'm staying at that has a curfew."

       "Like a shelter?" She questioned, and before I could answer, "Why don't you stay here until your new place is ready?"

       "That's probably not a good idea," J answered before I could.

       "Of course it is. You don't want your friend staying in a shelter, do you?"

       "I don't want to be a bother."

       "Of course not. You're staying, end of discussion. I'll get the couch set up for you. Do you have anything you need to go get?"

       "No. All of my stuff is with one of my mom's friends." She got up, leaving the kitchen.

       "What just happened?" I asked, watching after her.

       "Smurf." J didn't seem happy, "Smurf happened."

[uas-fics]

Title: Sleeping Like Adults

Rating: T

Summary: For the first time in four years, Craig and Tweek get to sleep in the same room!

Ships: Creek with a few other minor ships

Other: For @thefabutrash​ for the @creekcrew​‘s Secreek Santa event. I hope you like it! Happy Holidays! =D

Check the first reblog for the AO3 link

~~~~~~

Craig Tucker had never fancied himself a genius before, but as he plopped down in the back of the bus, he couldn't imagine himself anything less.

He pulled his bag into his lap, just to make sure he brought everything with him: toothbrush, pajamas, cell phone charger, a change of clothes, and most importantly, a new pack of correction tape and an ink pen.

Clyde slid into the seat next to him. He waited until the chaperone finished roll call and sat down before elbowing Clyde in the ribs.

"Did you get it?" Craig asked as the bus started forward.

Of course, Clyde got it. Why was Craig even asking? Clyde was his bro, helping bros share rooms with their boyfriends is part of the Bro Code, and Clyde swore by the Bro Code. There was no way Clyde didn’t get it!

Since Clyde's dad was the chaperone of their club trip, it would be super easy for him to get the rooming list. All Craig had to do was white out his roommate’s name and change their name to Tweek's! Once all was said an done, Clyde could just say he accidentally grabbed the sheet when they got to the hotel.

It was perfect!

Clyde laughed nervously, scratching his neck. "Ok, so, about that. I don't have it."

"What? Clyde, dude, that was your one job!" Craig cried. He looked around, hoping no one heard his outburst. If anyone did, they didn’t seem to care.

"I know, I know, but Dad didn't have the class list printed out." Clyde shook his head. "He has it on his phone -- Google Docs, I think."

Craig groaned, slumping back in the faux leather bus seat. "That was my only chance, Clyde!"

"I don't get why this is such a big deal, dude. You and Tweek have sleepovers all the time." Clyde took his phone from his pocket. "How's a hotel any different than the ones at your house?"

"It's different because our parents aren't there." Craig leaned his shoulder into the window. "Whenever we have a sleepover, our parents go out of their way to make sure we don't actually sleep in the same room anymore."

"Wow, really?"

"Yeah, I have to sleep in Tweek's guest room and Tweek has to sleep on the couch." Craig shut his eyes as his goal fell out of reach.

He and his boyfriend hadn't been allowed to sleep in the same room overnight since they were eleven, nearly four years ago. It didn't help the matter that both their parents were strict on them keeping the door open when they were together, either.

Clyde set a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm really sorry, dude. Unless we can get my dad's phone, there is no way to change it."

Craig's eyes snapped open. He bolted up as Clyde continued, "Maybe next time we have a group sleepover at my house, you and Tweek can bum it in the guest room and--"

Craig slapped a hand over Clyde's mouth.

"Clyde, that's it." A sly grin spread across his face. "That's it! Help me get your dad's phone. If the document is on Google Docs, maybe I can edit it!"

The color drained from Clyde's face.

"What?!" He choked out. "Dude, I can't do that. It's not a piece of paper. It's my dad's phone! If I take it and mess with it, he'd kill me!"

Craig took hold of Clyde's arm in an iron grip. He fixed his unwavering gaze with Clyde's uneasy one.

"If you help me do this, I'll take the fall if we get caught," He promised. With a squeeze, Craig added, "And I'll let you have my dessert at lunch for the rest of the year."

Clyde squirmed in his seat and bit his lip. He looked away then groaned.

"Fine!" Clyde relented. "Fine, fine, fine! How do you plan on doing it?"

The moment Craig dropped his hand, Clyde started to rub his arm. It probably wasn't going to bruise, and even if it did, Clyde was still getting the better end of this deal. Everyone loved the brownies they got on Thursdays with their corn dogs.

"It's simple. The ride to the hotel is four hours, right? Go up to your dad at the first rest stop and ask if you can play on his phone. Just make something up, like yours ran out of battery,” Craig explained.

"How do you know he'll give me his phone?" Clyde asked, looking down at his smartphone.

"No offense, Clyde, but your dad is kind of a pushover." Craig resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "If you pout like you always do, he'll let you borrow it. I'm sure."

"I don't pout," Clyde snapped. "I'm way too manly to pout."

Craig didn't try to correct any of the lies in that statement. Instead, he leaned back into the seat with a smirk.

Yes, for sure, Craig Tucker was a genius.

~~~~~

"Now, kids, settle down!" Mr. Donovan called over the shouting and yelling of the robotics club. He had to yell a few more times before everyone quieted enough that he could be heard.

Mr. Donovan pushed his glasses up. "Alright, kids, as you know the gardening club is also going to the museum this weekend, and since Kevin got on the wrong bus, we're going to wait at the rest stop for a few minutes so the garden club's bus can swing by and drop him off."

A few of the students groaned. Craig couldn't entirely blame them. The trip was already long and boring, waiting at a rest stop only prolonged the suffering.

The teacher sponsor of the robotics club pushed himself from his seat and sent a glare over the student, silencing any protests.

Mr. Donovan nodded approvingly. "Alright, now, everyone file out to use the restroom and stretch your legs."

Moments later, the robotics club had shuffled off the bus. Craig lifted himself up on his toes as he stretched.

"Ok, you ready?" Craig asked.

Clyde rolled his eyes. "Can a guy pee first?"

"No," Craig deadpanned. He reached into Clyde's jacket pocket and took his phone.

Ignoring Clyde's protests of "Hey! What the fuck?", Craig took the phone out of its case then turned it over to pull the back off. He pried out the battery before pocketing it.

As he reassembled the phone, he explained, "If your dad needs proof, you can press and hold the power button without it turning back on."

Clyde scrunched up his face as he took his phone back. "Fiiiiine." Spinning on his heels, he headed towards his dad.

Craig took a few steps towards a bench to casually sit and watch as his amazing plan came to fruition.

Mr. Donovan's head went up when Clyde called his name. He gave his full attention to his son while Clyde held up his phone and pointed.

Craig's heart skipped a beat when Mr. Donovan reached for the phone. If Mr. Donovan held Clyde's phone, he would feel the weight difference. Luckily, by some miracle, he stopped before he could touch it.

They talked for another few minutes before Clyde returned with a solemn look on his face.

"He says I'm just out of luck, and he'll look at it at the hotel." Clyde shook his head.

"Fuck!" Craig clenched his fists. "We have to get that phone, Clyde! Just let me think a minute..."

"Dude, maybe you should just give it up." Clyde shrugged. "Like I told you, next sleepover at my house, you can--"

Craig jumped to his feet, eyes sparkling. Plan A never works. That's just facts. Plan B, though, Plan B would be perfect!

He dug around in his pockets then held the contents in his palm. Craig flicked the pocket lint out of the pile then shoved the ink pen behind his ear.

He turned over the pack of Fruit Stripe gum he stole from his sister. With his braces, he technically wasn't supposed to chew this type of gum, but what his orthodontist didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

Shoving the gum and the phone battery into Clyde's hands, Craig began to count his change out.

Disregarding the pennies, he had a grand total of fifty-five cents.

"Clyde, give me a dollar." Craig made a gimme motion with his hand.

"What? No! You have a wallet on the bus," Clyde said but took out his wallet anyway. He fished out a one dollar bill, which Craig snatched.

Without a word to Clyde, he dashed towards the vending machines. Of course, there was a line.

Craig tapped his foot impatiently as some sophomores he didn't know jabbered on about something he didn't care about.

What was taking them so long to buy a soda? Every second they wasted talking, was a second less Craig had for his plan! Didn't they know that the gardening club bus would be here soon?

A bottle made a thunking sound when it fell. Craig took a step forward, only for one of them to feed another dollar into the machine.

Craig and Tweek weren't in any of the same clubs this year. The pure coincidence that the science museum would hold both an exhibition on space age robotics and sustainable farming was a blessing from God that Craig didn't want to waste!

When he was only ten seconds away from pushing the sophomores out of the way, they finished. Still animatedly talking, they walked away with an arm full of soda each.

Craig rolled his eyes. "Finally." He muttered, just loud enough for the sophomore he was passing to hear. She shot him a dirty look, and Craig flipped her off. The sophomore scoffed but didn't try to pick a fight.

After smoothing out the dollar on the side of the machine a few times, Craig fed Washington’s visage into the dollar slot and pressed the Coke option.

Sold out.

Any of the drinks would work, so long as they were sticky and sugary, so he pressed the Diet Coke.

Sold Out.

Pepsi.

Sold out.

Diet Pepsi. Sprite. Double Dew.

Sold out. Sold out. Sold out.

The only option he had left was Gatorade and water.

Cursing those sophomores with every fiber of his being, Craig pressed the Gatorade option. This was the last drink that had sugar in it.

He braced himself, waiting.

Th-thunk!

A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he knelt down to retrieve the cherry sports drink.

When he returned to Clyde, Craig had already cracked open the drink and chugged some of it.

Clyde frowned. "Not to poke holes in whatever your plan is, but I doubt electrolytes are going to help."

"It's not the electrolytes I need," Craig smirked. "I'm going to walk over and then 'accidentally' trip and spill this all over your dad's pants."

"You're going to what?" Clyde cried, only for Craig to elbow him in the stomach. He doubled over, clenching his middle.

"Quiet! Look, all you need to do is steal your dad's pants when he's changing them. It'll be easy."

Clyde looked up from his bent over position. "This is not a good plan, Craig!"

"Are you my bro or aren't you?" Craig narrowed his eyes.

After a heartbeat, Clyde muttered, "I'm your bro..."

"Good, now get ready."  Craig nodded sharply. Clyde flashed a thumbs up before hobbling over to sit on the bench.

With a breath, Craig started towards Mr. Donovan. Luckily for him, Mr. Donovan was distracted, chatting with the teacher.

Honestly, this should have been Plan A. What was he even thinking with the original Plan A? Of course, Mr. Donovan wasn't going to give up his phone because Clyde's ‘broke’! Even if he did, he would have probably logged off all his apps.

Someone hip checked Craig, sending him stumbling to the side. The bottle fell from his hands. The rest of the liquid spilled over the concrete.

Craig stared, flabbergasted, as his Plan B flowed down a crack in the sidewalk towards the grass.

Someone snickered. Craig spun around, ready to fight. The sophomore he'd flipped off smirked at him before heading towards the rest of her friends.

Shaking, Craig took a step towards her. He was not above starting a fight in the middle of the public rest area.

Clyde came up then and caught his arm.

"Not worth it, dude," He said with a shake of the head.

"Fuck me!" Craig groaned. "Clyde, another dollar. Let me try again--"

The gardening club's bus pulled up before Clyde could pull out his wallet.

Clyde patted his back reassuringly.

"Sorry, man," He offered softly.

"Yeah," Craig heaved a sigh then straighten up. He shoved his disappointment down as he began to scan the crowd of garden club kids for his favorite shock of blond hair.

He spotted him hanging around Token. Before his club was called to their bus, he and Clyde hurried over.

"You can explain it all you want, I still don't get it." Token was saying.

"No, like, dude, agroforestry isn't hard; it's--Craig!" Tweek cut himself off, smiling.

"Hey, honey," Craig greeted, pulling Tweek into a half-hug. Tweek snaked his arm around Craig's waist and leaned against him as Craig held his fist out for Token, who bumped it.

"Hey, dudes," Token nodded to him and Clyde.

"Having fun learning about dirt?" Clyde teased. "This is what you get for being so whipped by your girlfriend."

Token rolled his eyes, but he didn't have a counter to that. The only reason he joined Garden Club was because Nichole asked him to.

From what Tweek had said, Token's thumb was 'averagely green'. Though he could tend to plants, he didn't care about doing it and spent most of his time sitting around or organizing the supplies.

"Clyde, how many times have you been on Bebe's beck and call during volleyball practice?" Craig snorted. He pitched up his voice to mock, "'Bring me my water, Clyde. Can you get my towel for me, sweetie? Go grab the ball, baby!'"

Token laughed into his hand while Clyde's face went red. Craig felt Tweek's shoulder shake in laughter just a little under his arm.

"Oh, screw you," Clyde snapped. "I'm going to find Kevin." With that, Clyde spun around to search the rest of the crowd.

"How's your ride going?" Tweek asked when Clyde disappeared.

"Boring," Craig admitted.

"We had a kid throw up," Token commented. "That's why we're late. We had to turn around, take him home, and get a new bus."

Craig cringed. "That's really gross."

"It kind of worked out, since we were able to pick up Kevin." Tweek pointed out.

The trio chatted for a few more minutes before Mr. Donovan called Craig’s name. "Craig, come get back on the bus. I need to do a headcount." He shouted.

 Tweek pulled himself from Craig's side. "See you at the hotel, Craig." Tweek pressed a kiss to Craig's cheek.

Reminded of the hotel and their separate rooming, Craig fought to keep himself from deflating.

"Yeah, see you there." He waved before heading back towards his bus. As he crawled on and made his way towards the back seat, he noticed that sophomore girl sitting near the front. Her bag was half in the aisle.

With a smirk, Craig purposely stepped down hard on it. He heard a pencil snap but kept walking anyway. As tempting as it was to see if she noticed, he couldn't risk it looking like he did it intentionally.

He sat back down, leaning to look sullenly out the window until the rest of the bus hustled on, except for Clyde. Craig eyed the empty seat next to him with a frown. He hadn't hurt Clyde's ego that much, had he?

"Ok, roll call!" Mr. Donovan said, clearly not noticing his son wasn't on board. He patted his pockets. "Oh, uh, where is it?" Turning out his pockets, he furrowed his brow.

"Hey, kids," Mr. Donovan raised his voice. "Has anyone seen my phone? I swear I had--"

"Here it is, Dad!" Clyde held up Mr. Donovan's phone as he and Kevin climbed up the steps. "You left it on the bench outside."

"Oh, thank you, Clyde." His dad nodded, taking the phone.

Craig stared at Clyde with wide eyes as he came down the aisle to sit.

Clyde smiled proudly, reminding Craig of a puppy wishing to be praised.

"Who's your bro?"

"You are. You’re the best fucking bro ever!" Craig put his hand on Clyde's shoulder and shook him.

So what if Plan A failed, and Plan B was doomed before it could start?

Craig could always count on Plan Clyde to make it through to the end!

~~~~

Of the brilliant ideas Tweek had ever had, drinking an entire gallon of Arizona sweet tea on the two hour ride was not one of them.

Honestly, the whole idea of bringing the jug of tea instead of his thermos of coffee had been on his dad’s prompting that Tweek should ‘slow down’ on the coffee drinking. His parents claimed it was ‘for his health,’ but Tweek knew that was a lie.

They still hadn’t gotten over Tweek using some of their special roast last week. He didn’t even get to drink any before they saw him making it and got mad!

That was how Tweek ended up with a gallon of tea instead — a gallon he’d absentmindedly down not even halfway to the rest stop.

He had been sitting on a bladder that was about to burst for the last hour. Then when they did finally stop, Craig tracked him down before he could make it to the restroom.

The whole time they were talking with Token and Clyde, Tweek felt his eyes floating a little higher. He nearly shouted out in relief when Mr. Donovan called Craig back to his bus.

Tweek washed his hands in the rest stop sink. The whole place smelled a little too strongly of cheap soap and lemon cleaner. Something that strong smelling could only be covering up something that smelled even worse.

Tweek had little desire to find out what that smell was, so he forwent drying his hands to instead hurry out the door.

He nearly barreled into Kevin.

"Oh, sorry, Tweek!" Kevin said as he bobbed around him into the restroom.

Standing just outside the door, Clyde leaned against the wall, playing on a phone, but not his own. Clyde's phone case had glittery football and baseball stickers Bebe put on it. The one he had was just plain silver.

"Clyde?" Tweek turned his head a bit to the side.

Clyde jumped. "Ah, Tweek, hey, man, what's up?"

"Shouldn't you be heading towards your bus?" Tweek asked.

"Yeah, just waiting for Kevin." Clyde shoved the phone into his pocket. "He didn't have fifteen minutes to dick around like we had."

It had been a stroke of luck that right as they returned to the bus barn at the high school, Kevin's mom pulled up. Apparently, he overslept.

"Oh, right, I guess that's true." Tweek nodded.

Clyde twiddled with his thumbs a moment, humming to himself. He held back a smile, and that made Tweek uneasy.

"What?" Tweek wrung his hands in his shirt.

Clyde was about to burst when he finally blurted out, "You and Craig share a room at the hotel!"

"W-what?!" Tweek choked on the word.

"Yeah, dude. I guess the teachers didn't know you were boyfriends or something." He cheekily elbowed him in the ribs. "Lucky duck, aren't you?"

Before Tweek could reply, Kevin exited the restroom.

"Come on, Clyde, we have to hurry back to the bus." Kevin grabbed Clyde's arm.

"Right." Clyde nodded. To Tweek, he teased, "Don't have too much fun later tonight." He punctuated his tease with a wink before letting Kevin drag him towards the bus.

Tweek watched, suddenly frozen to the ground, as Kevin and Clyde made their way to their bus.

The bus rumbled to life, the door shut, and pulled out of the parking lot before Tweek melted. The moment he could move his feet again, he dashed across the grass to the playground.

Nichole sat at the top of a jungle gym that was much too small for a high school student while Token leaned against it.

Tweek wasted no time darting up to Token, grabbing his shoulders, and screaming into his chest.

"Holy shit, Token! Shit, shit, shit, shitshitshitshit!" Tweek panted. His eyes darted around in panic.

"W-Wow, Tweek, dude," Token furrowed his brows, "calm down."

Tweek turned a quick glare towards him. Token knew fully well that telling him to 'calm down' didn't help! It just made Tweek realize how much he was panicking more than before!

Nichole slid off the jungle gym. She set a hand on Tweek's shoulders.

"Hey, what's wrong?" She asked.

"Clyde, He--!! The teachers fucked up, and, and, and!" Tweek grabbed his hair. "The teachers assigned Craig and me to the same room!"

Token's eyebrows shot up. "Really? Lucky." He turned a flirty smile to Nichole. "Think they messed up with us, too?"

Nichole rolled her eyes, clearly unamused, and turned her attention back to Tweek.

"If that makes you uncomfortable, you can ask a teacher to change it, Tweek," She offered. "Or why not tell Craig you're not ok with it?"

"That's the thing!" Tweek squeezed his voice out through his clenched throat. "I'm not uncomfortable with it. I'm totally fine with sleeping in the same room as him."

Token crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Then why are you freaking out? It's not excitement. I know that much."

Tweek began to fiddle with his buttons. This was embarrassing! Why did the teachers have to do this to him? Did the robotic club teacher hate him that much? Or was it his teacher sponsor?

He swallowed the lump in his throat before looking around. There was no one in earshot, but he gestured everyone to move closer anyway.

"You can't tell anyone. Promise, on your l-lives," Tweek held out both his pinkies as added insurance. Token and Nichole each wrapped a pinkie around his and shook on it.

"We won't tell. What is it?" Nichole prompted.

"It's just, well, Craig and I, we haven't slept in the same room since we were little kids!" Tweek almost smiled at the memories of late night fart sounds and bad jokes. "That's the thing though: we were little kids. Craig's getting his full driver's license next year and my parents have hired me for real at the shop. We're adults."

Tweek chewed his lip a moment. "It's different now, and, uh, I-I want it to be different, you know? It's not just another kiddie, platonic sleep over anymore."

Nichole clasped her hands over her heart. "Oh, Tweek, that's so sweet and romantic!"

Token snorted a chuckle. "Wait, so you want to sleep sleep with Craig? Like sex? On a school trip? Tweek, you wild animal."

Red painted Tweek's face. He sputtered before finding his words. "No! No! No! No! I don't mean it like that! I mean--"

Nichole gently shoved Token's shoulder. He took a step to the side, more to humor her than succumbing to her strength.

"No, he means he wants to sleep in the same bed as Craig like adults do, like our parents do." She smiled at Tweek. "Right?"

"Y-yes! That's what I mean," He nodded, then pointed to Token. "I'm worried that Craig will take it like Token did if I ask though. I don't want him to think I'm a pervert or a creep."

"He's not going to think that, Tweek." Token shook his head. "If he does, just explain it to him."

"Then he'll think I changed my story when I made him uncomfortable, which will make it even more uncomfortable."

Tweek winced at the thought. He couldn't have 'sex-crazed' add to the list of adjectives he knew Craig thought of him as.

It took him months to remove 'musophobe' from that list when Tweek shrieked after a mouse ran across his toes in Craig's basement. It wasn't even fair to claim he's afraid of mice. It was a big mouse and ran across his bare feet! Anyone would scream.

Nichole screwed her face up in thought. "Then why don't you make it where he asks you?" Her eyes sparkled. "Yeah, do that!"

"How?" Both Tweek and Token asked. The former in a tone of interest and the latter in a tone of dubiousness.

She shrugged. "I don't know, um...drop the temperature? If it's cold in your room, he might ask to snuggle in bed, and if you two just so happen to fall asleep, well, that's just how it goes, right?"

Token shook his head. "Nichole, you have to know how silly--"

"That's perfect!" Tweek grabbed her shoulders before pulling her into a hug. "Nichole, you're so smart!"

She patted his back and nodded contently. "Thank you."

Token opened his mouth, then shut it, shaking his head without a word.

~~~~~

Tweek was excited now that he had a plan of attack. When they got back on the bus, he and Nichole brained stormed more ideas to freeze Craig into Tweek's arms.

First, he would see how low he could get the thermostat to go. Since the plan for dinner was to walk across the street from the hotel to the buffet, the room would have plenty of time to get nice and chilly. If Tweek made sure to get back to the room first, he could turn it back up to normal temperature. He'd shut the vents after that, so no warm air could get in.

Then it would be romantic snuggling the rest of the night!

If all else failed, he still had that gallon bottle from his tea. All he needed to do was refill it when they got there. If it 'accidentally' spilled on one of their beds later that night, the other would undoubtedly be a gentleman and offer to share the remaining bed.

It was a foolproof plan!

A half hour to the hotel, Tweek's phone buzzed.

"We're in the same room at the hotel," Craig wrote. "If the teacher asks, we had a fight and broke up. act bitter about it, otherwise, they might separate us."

Tweek frowned. Clyde told him the teachers forgot they were dating. Why would they remember now? Unless one of the other students ratted them out. He could see that.

Some of the girls in the robotics club gave the kind of vibe like they would throw anyone to the lions at the first chance.

"What did we fight about this time?" Tweek texted back. "Was it 'Michael' again?" He smiled to himself, ending the text with a wink emote.

A moment later, Craig replied, "If you don't let that die, then we really will have a fight." His text ended with three fist emoji. Before Tweek could even open his keyboard, another message came.

This one said, "jk jk. idk. something that doesn't make me look like a dick this time. why don't we fight over stripe? you're being a bad dad and overfeeding him or something."

Tweek didn't like the idea of this fake fight painting him as a bad pet parent, but considering Craig still got flack over their fight in fourth grade, maybe it was only fair.

"ok. I'm letting Token and Nichole know though. Love you!" Tweek tried to look annoyed as he sent a string of kiss faces and hearts. If there was one thing Tweek had become really good at since he and Craig started dating, it was acting.

He huffed, throwing his hand up in the air.

"That bastard!" Tweek cried out just loud enough the other club members around him would hear, but not the teacher.

"How dare he!" Tweek continued, leaning across the aisle to Token. "Look at what Craig said! Me? A bad pet parent! I'm the fucking best parent Stripe has!"

Token raised an eyebrow but took the phone. He rolled his eyes, turning the screen enough for Nichole to read. Nichole chuckled but sent Tweek a small nod. She would play along with this.

"Fuck him! We're through!" Tweek took his phone back. "How do you change your relationship status on Facebook? Under ‘about’ right? I'm not letting him say those things about me."

The other students turned in their seat or scooted closer to the aisle. Gossip hounds, most of them. Usually, Tweek couldn't stand his personal info getting around like this, but the grapevine of whispers would reach up to the teacher and chaperone faster this way.

Craig had already started vague posting about him.

Along with a picture of a fat, plushy guinea pig, Craig posted, "This is what SOME PEOPLE think a guinea pig should look like! Rolly polly and one treat from a heart attack! #badpetparent"

It took all of Tweek's composure not to laugh. Between the two of them, Craig was the one who usually gave Stripe one too many treats.

For the rest of the bus ride, Craig and Tweek made snide comments and jabs about the other on social media. Honestly, he was having fun with it. None of what they said to each other was particularly true, or really that bad, but the rumor mill had already worked its magic.

According to posts shown to him by Nichole and Token, Tweek had broken Craig's heart and curb stomped it by attempting to take full custody of Stripe from him. At least one tweet said they were going to court about it.

When they pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, the robotics bus was already parked. Even in the dim evening light, the antics and excitement of the other club shown through the windows. A paper airplane launched out one of the rear windows and crashed against Tweek's window.

Tweek squinted to try and make out anyone he knew, but the closest he came was thinking he saw the top of Craig's hat.

"Alright, students," the teacher clapped her hands, stealing his attention "We're all going to head to the lobby. Take your bags. I'm not walking everyone back and forth to the bus."

Tweek shouldered his backpack on and stood. When he passed the teacher on his way off the bus, she put a hand on his shoulder.

"Tweek, I want you to know if you ever need to talk, I'm here." She smiled softly. "I know how hard it is to lose a pet to careless actions."

Tweek stared at her a moment before her words clicked. "Oh! Um, thank you, ma'am." He tried to sound downtrodden.

So their 'break up' had already turned to manslaughter. Great. Crowd control was going to be a pain in the ass after all this was said and done.

The robotics club fell silent when Tweek came into the lobby. Some eyed him with distrust, and others with pity. Clyde avoided looking at him, and Craig fixed him with a faux dirty look before flipping him the bird.

Anyone who didn't know Craig well could tell there was no malice in this gesture, but Tweek pretended he was offended and threw him a middle finger right back.

Craig shoved his hands in his pocket and scowled to the side, all the while holding back a smile. Tweek thought it was simply adorable. He made a note to tell him that and watch Craig get flustered about it later.

"Alright, is everyone off the bus?" One of the teachers shouted, and the crowd of students quieted. "Alright, so, when I call your name, come up and get your room key."

She reached held her tablet to her face as she read. One by one the students walked up. There were a few groans and whines, a couple of cheers, but no one seemed too opposed to their rooming assignments.

Then the teacher called out Craig's name.

"Craig Tucker, Room 203." She held up his key. "You're rooming with...oh, um, T-Tweek Tweak."

A group gasp nearly sucked all the air from the lobby. Tweek squared his shoulders and marched up along with Craig.

Mr. Donovan and the garden club teacher exchanged looks, while the robotics teacher couldn't care less.

She started, "I don't know how they got...um--maybe we should switch them with--"

"I'm fine with it." Craig snapped, snatching a key card off the table. "Unlike some people, I am a responsible adult who is in complete control of his emotions."

"Bullshi--I mean, I am too!" Tweek grabbed the other card from the teacher. "You just stay on your side of the room, you gay jerk."

"Don't call names, Tweek. It's immature," Craig scoffed.

"It's not immature if it's all true," Tweek grumbled. Before the teacher or Mr. Donovan could reply, they both stormed off back into the crowd.

~~~~~

Tweek wasn't sure how they pulled that off, exactly, but none of the adults tried to take their keys away from them or make them switch rooms.

At this point, Tweek narrowed it down to either the adults didn't know how to deal with this situation between two men or didn't want to get dragged into their drama. Either way, Tweek wasn't going to complain.

Still scowling, Tweek unlocked their door. With a sneer in his voice, he held the door and said, "After you, Mr. Mature."

"Thank you," Craig spat back, all fake venom.

Mr. Donovan grabbed the door handle, standing between the two. He forced a nervous smile. "Um, if you boys need anything," Mr. Donovan said. "I'm in the room right next door."

"Don't worry, sir." Craig frowned. "We can handle ourselves. Or, I can anyway."

"Yeah," Tweek took a breath, "don't worry at all."

Mr. Donovan didn't look any more relaxed but nodded anyway.

The moment after Tweek shut the door then threw his bag on the bed, Craig grabbed his arm and pulled him into a hug.

"Everyone hates you now," Craig stated matter-of-factly, "for being a guinea pig murderer." He kissed his forehead.

"We'll have to post a picture together with Stripe when we get home." Tweek chuckled. "Proof of my innocence."

Craig squeezed him once, then took a step back. "I need to brush my teeth. Clyde dared me to eat a Jolly Rancher we found on the floor of the bus."

Tweek winced. "Was it completely worth it?"

Craig shrugged. "I got fifteen dollars and ten minutes picking candy out of my braces since I accidentally crunch down, so half-and-half."

"You're disgusting, Craig Tucker," Tweek teased.

Craig took his hat off and chucked it at his face. "If it hadn't been grape - flavored, you would have done it, too."

Tweek gave Craig that as truth with a slight nod before shoving his hat over his head.

When Craig left for the bathroom, Tweek dove into action. He spun around and darted towards the thermal unit under the window.

Stooping down, he fiddled with the controls. The unit wasn't complicated, so it only took a minute or two to lower the temperature setting from a cozy seventy-five to a chilly fifty.

He bounced to his feet and spun around. Twisting the tassels of Craig's hat, he wandered to the bathroom. Craig leaned over the counter to the mirror, picking at his braces. He ran his tongue over his front teeth before sticking his mouth under the faucet to take a drink.

"Get it all?" Tweek asked.

Craig held up a finger as he swished the water around in his mouth then spit.

"Probably not, but at least my mouth doesn't taste like bus floor anymore." He held out his hand. "Gimme back my hat."

Tweek reached up to pull the hat from his head. A smirk played on his lips, and he strode forward and threw it on Craig's head. With a tug, he pulled him down to press a kiss to his lips.

Craig chuckled. "Damn, hope we get over this fight soon."

~~~~~

The buffet was nothing special, just an average all you can eat joint. On their second trip up, Clyde loaded up on more enchiladas than could possibly be healthy, while Craig had taken a more Italian root with a plateful of pasta and pizza.

They sat together in at a table in the back with Token. From their vantage point, they could people watch and mock almost all of the other restaurant goers and had quick access to the dessert bar.

Token took one look at Clyde’s plate and rolled his eyes.

"Didn't your dad tell you to eat something healthy?" Token made a point to stab up some zucchini.

"This is plenty healthy," Clyde replied. "The sauce has tomatoes. Cheese is a dairy product. Grain in the tortilla, and chicken is protein. All the food groups are there."

Without fighting Clyde’s logic, he turned towards Craig. "Ok, so how are you and," he jerked his head towards Tweek, “doing?”

A gaggle of girls surrounded Tweek, cooing over him and comforting him, including the ones who took all the sodas earlier that day. Somehow half the girls on the trip got it in their heads the whole 'fight' was Craig's fault and Tweek was an innocent victim in it all.

Tweek himself looked incredibly uncomfortable, picking at his chicken breast. One of the girls reached out to mess with his hair and Craig tensed. Tweek didn't like people touching him for no reason, much less stroking his hair like that.

Luckily, Nichole reached up and grabbed the girl's hand with a frown. Craig made a note to thank her for that later.

He poked at his pasta without spinning the fork. "We're fine," Craig answered.

Token hummed. "Ok. Actually, can I ask you a question since you and Tweek are sharing a room?"

"Shoot." Craig took a drink of his cola.

"If Tweek offered, would you spend the night with him, like, in the same bed?" Token asked, a little too bluntly.

Craig choked on his drink. He beat his chest, panting. Clyde burst into laughter, bits of enchilada flying across the table. In response, Token crouched over his food, protecting his plate with his arms.

"Token, what the fuck, man?" Craig gasped. "Shit, dude, fuck! You can't ask stuff like that in public!"

Token shrugged, straightening back up.

Clyde wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "So is that a no? You'd just leave Tweek by himself? Guess it's a good thing you two broke up."

Craig took his fork, stabbed one of Token's zucchini slices, and dropped it on top of Clyde's enchiladas. Clyde hurried to remove the offending squash before it contaminated his meal.

Craig pointed his fork at Token. "Ok, why did you ask that?" He lowered his fork and leaned closer. "Did...Did Tweek say he wanted to do that?"

Token chuckled. "What? No. I was just wondering. You two are sharing a room, after all."

Craig reached up and tugged at his hat. He was glad it covered his ears. They were burning with embarrassment. This was not public restaurant talk. This was beanbag chair, playing video games in someone's room talk.

At least if they were in someone's room, Craig could chuck a pillow at Token and loudly tell him to fuck off.

"It's none of your business what Tweek and I do--if we were still together." Craig spun his fork in his pasta. "Which we're not because he's a huge dick and a bad parent to Stripe."

Token opened his mouth, only to have Clyde interrupt him before he started.

"Ok, ok, ok, screw Craig for a minute here. We both know the answer is 'yes', no matter what he says." Clyde reached across to grab Token's hand. "The real question is if you would say yes if I asked you." He wiggled his eyebrows.

Token snorted a laugh. "Of course, Clyde. What are best bros for?"

Clyde raised his fist up to pump it down, only to slam his elbow down on the rim of his plate. The enchiladas flew off the plate.

Red sauce, tortilla, and ground beef splattered against Craig's shirt. Out of instinct, Craig moved back, only to knock his drink forward so it splashed down onto his pants.

"Clyde!" Craig roared, holding his shirt from his body.

"Sorry!" Clyde grabbed a napkin and moved forward to wipe some of the beef off, but Craig slapped his hand down.

Without a word, Craig sulked over to the table with the teachers and chaperones. As he did, he passed the table with Tweek and all the girls. Some of the girls glared at him and some snickered. Tweek, on the other hand, looked shocked and worried.

"Hey, can I head back?" Craig interrupted whatever the teachers were saying. The adults looked up.

"What happened?" The robotics teacher asked.

"Dropped a plate," Craig muttered.

Even though it was all Clyde's fault, he didn't want to get him in trouble for screwing around. Craig would find some other way to have his revenge. For now, he'd let Clyde sweat about when his retribution would come.

Mr. Donovan scooted his chair back. "Of course, Craig. I'll walk you back over and--"

"Mr. Donovan?"

Craig looked over his shoulder to see Tweek walking up.

"Are you heading back? Can I come?" Tweek tugged at his sleeves, looking to the side. "I, uh, I forgot to take my medication this morning, and my anxiety finally caught up with me in such a crowded place."

As added emphasis, he wrapped his arms around himself and twitched.

Craig nearly reached out but stopped himself. For one, they were still 'fighting' and for two, He was pretty sure that was all a lie.

Tweek never forgot to take his medication. He had no less than three alarms to remind himself. It would not surprise Craig at all if Tweek was just using this as an excuse to get away from all the people fawning over him.

Craig caught Tweek's eye for just a second, then muttered, loud enough to be heard by the teachers, "He probably doesn't trust me not to mess with his stuff."

Tweek pretended to grit his teeth. "Please. I'm finished eating."

The adults talked for a moment before Mr. Donovan nodded. After getting a to-go box for Craig and Mr. Donovan's food, the three made their way back to the hotel.

~~~~~~

Craig tossed his shirt into the sink and turned on the hot water. He could try to scrub the sauce off with the complimentary soap but doubted it would do much. Though he liked the shirt well enough, it wasn't a favorite. So if he failed, there wouldn't be that big of a loss.

"Here."

Craig turned to see Tweek in the doorway, holding something out.

"What is it?" Craig stepped over and took it from his hand. He turned the pen-shaped object over in his palm. It was one of those Tide To-Go Pens.

A snorted laugh escaped him. He wasn't surprised at all. Tweek was the only boy Craig knew who would bring something like this with him on a school trip.

He wondered if Tweek brought a sweater with him, too. The hotel room was polar cold. Craig could probably suffer with it, but he didn’t like the idea of Tweek freezing overnight.

Hopefully he could just crank up the thermostat to remendy the situation.

"Thanks, dude," Craig said as he turned to work on the shirt. Tweek leaned against the door frame, watching with interest as Craig worked.

After a while, Craig removed as much of the stain as he could. Luckily, it wasn't too noticeable. As long as his mother never saw it, it was all good. No harm, no foul.

Holding the shirt triumphantly up, he spun around.

"Ta-da!"

Tweek snickered but indulged him with a small round of applause. Craig bobbed his head proudly in a faux bow before tossing the shirt over the towel rack to dry.

"I think I'll take a quick shower. I can still feel the soda sticking to me through my PJs," Craig announced. With a smirk, he added coyly, "Don't go messing with my stuff, got it, Mr. Tweak?"

Tweek's shoulders shook. "I'm way too mature to be that petty, Mr. Tucker."

The two burst into giggles. Tweek started to leave, but Craig followed behind him. He walked past their beds towards the window unit. When he got out of the shower, he’d rather not have all the water freeze to his body.

"Thought so," Craig muttered after crouching down. "Whoever had our room before us left this on fifty." He readjusted the temperature back up to a cozy seventy-five.  

“Oh, that’s why it’s so cold?” Tweek rubbed his arm. “I hadn’t even thought to check it.”

“Yeah, well, at least we won’t turn into popsicles overnight.”  

Tweek grinned at him. There was something a little off about it, but Craig didn’t comment. With how his luck was going this evening, Tweek probably figured Craig thought he was stupid for not noticing.

Craig put his hand on Tweek’s arm, over his knuckles. He explained, “It must have been programmed to kick on while we were out. I didn’t notice until we got back how cold it was.”

Tweek looked down at Craig’s hand, then up at him. He nodded then smiled. The off feeling about this smile dissolved instantly.

With a squeeze of his hand, Craig then left Tweek to take his shower.

Craig’s chest well with pride at the accomplishment as he shut the door. How many people could pacify Tweek’s worries with a few correctly-chosen and reassuring words?

Dang, did Craig like Tweek’s smile. Really, he just liked Tweek over all. Their relationship might have started on less than stellar terms, but by now, Craig had a hard time imagining his life without Tweek in it. It was asilly thought, Craig knew, but maybe they'd get married one day.

Craig stiffened as Token's question rang in his head again.

"If Tweek offered, would you spend the night with him, like, in the same bed?"

He tried to force the idea out of his thoughts but failed miserably. That was a topic he hadn't sunk too much thought into. Sex seemed like a distant concept, more of a late-night thought experiment than a something that would actually happen.

After all, it took them nearly a year and a half of dating to share the most chaste kiss ever, and Tweek still puked from nerves on Craig's shoes a second later. Sex was way too big of a leap! Even if Tweek could get over his nerves this time, Craig knew he couldn't do it.

When they were older, maybe, but...

Craig groaned, burying his face in his hands. Why did Token even ask that? Tweek had to have made him do it, right? A question like that was way too out of the blue for Token to ask it any other time!

He ran his hands through his hair before slapping them down on the sink.

If Tweek wanted to know if Craig was interested in sleeping with him, it would be best to come out in the open and say he wasn't! His boyfriend might be disappointed, but Tweek would have to just respect his decision.

Spinning on his heels, Craig marched out the door. He needed to do this before his confidence wore off.

"Tweek, we need--the fuck?"

Tweek stared at him, eyes like a deer in the headlights. In his hand, he had his jug of water held over Craig's bed. A thin trickle poured onto the covers.

"Don't be mad!" Tweek cried, pulling the jug to his chest. "I can explain, I promise!"

"Then explain. We're not really fighting! You're taking your acting too far!" Craig rushed over to tear the jug from his hands. His bed didn't look too wet. He could probably just pull the sheets off or sleep in the recliner in the corner.

"No, that's not--uh, shit, Craig--!" Tweek wrung his hands together. "Don't be mad! Don't be mad! I, I just..." His shoulders shook and his head dropped.

Craig adjusted the jug to one hand, reaching out with the other, when Tweek's head shot up and he bursted out, "Do you want to sleep with me tonight!?"

So Tweek did get Token to ask Craig! He knew it!

Craig stumbled back. His face was already feeling hot. All of the confidence Craig had seconds ago vanished into thin air when faced with the actual question.

"Tweek, we c-ca-can't!" Craig sputtered. "For one, you, we, uh, need things for that and for two I’m not comfortable with it right now! I don’t want to sleep--"

"Not like that!" Tweek's face was just as red as Craig's, if not more so. He grabbed his shoulders, shaking his head so fast that Craig worried he might break his neck.

"I don't mean it like se—urk—like making l-love," Tweek forced out. "I mean like married people. Normal sleeping, but in the same bed. Same way parents do."

Craig looked down at the jug. Tweek followed his eyes. He snatched it back, his face somehow burning even more.

"I...I wanted to force you to ask to share a bed with me," Tweek admitted. "I was going to chill you into it, but you turned the heat back up."

Craig tried to keep a straight face as Tweek explain but failed almost instantly. His shoulders scrunched and his chin fell to his chest. His cheeks puffed out as he tried to hold back his laughter.

He peeked up at Tweek. Tweek clenched his hand around the jug handle, eyes wide and confused.

"Dude, no offense, did you get this idea from a bad fanfiction?" He snorted into his hand. "Freezing me into your bed? Really? That was the best idea you could come up with before jumping straight to dumping water on my mattress?"

Tweek looked down at the jug, then back up at Craig, before a smile spread across his face. He chuckled, taking a step back to set the jug on the bedside table.

"Shit, now that you say it like that, it's a horrible idea, isn't it?" He shook his head. "At least Nichole's heart was in the right place."

"It was her idea? That explains...never mind." Craig plopped back onto the bed. He patted the seat next to him. Tweek slipped down beside him. Craig eyed the space between them then scooted closer until their sides touch.

"Sooooo, Tweek," Craig slipped his hand around behind Tweek and lean against him, "Do you wanna sleep together? Tonight? Like adults?" He got face to face with Tweek and winked.

Tweek stiffened up a heartbeat, then relaxed. Before Craig could comprehend what Tweek was doing, Tweek pressed a kiss to his lips.

"Yeah, I'd really like that."

A fond, soft feeling welled up in Craig's chest. The feeling spread through his body. He clung to it as Tweek wrapped him in a warm hug. They wouldn't even need blankets if he kept this feeling around.

“Craig, wanna look at the fallout of our ‘break up’ on Twitter?” Tweek offered after a moment. “Some of the girls at the table with me were saying some pretty out there things. Apparently, someone wants to call the FBI out on you.”

Craig glanced over his shoulder towards the bathroom door. He really should get back and take his shower, but this would only take a few minutes. They’d be done before too long.

Of course, ‘before too long’ stretched from a couple minutes to an hour of scrolling through their friends and followers’ feeds on Twitter and Facebook. Nothing could hold back their snickers and snorts as they each took turns reading the more and more outrageous ideas the rumor mill churned out.

As Craig sat in the recliner chair and Tweek laid on his bed, a knocking came from the door.

"Boys? Boys?" Mr. Donovan called through the door.

Craig scrambled out of the recliner, nearly tripping over his legs. He darted over and pushed Tweek down against the bed.

Craig hissed, "Pretend to be asleep, ok? I have a plan."

"Um, why--I mean ok?" Tweek clambered to pull the covers over his body as Craig hurried towards the door. As he passed the bathroom door, a wall of steam hit his face.

Swearing to himself, Craig darted inside and twisted the shower off. Taking a breath and smoothing out his hair, Craig unlocked the door and peeked out.

"Yes?"

"It'll be time to turn off the lights in about fifteen minutes. I'm going around giving everyone their warning." Mr. Donovan told him. He furrowed his brow, looking over Craig into the room. "Where is Tweek? Are you two alright?"

Craig's face fell into a cringe.

"Ugh, yeah, I guess. He went to sleep, like, right, when we got back. I'm going to bed after I take a shower."

"'After'? I heard the shower start a while ago." Mr. Donovan frowned.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I..." Craig wracked his brain a moment then quickly said, "I went in to wash my shirt, and when I left to go get my other shirt, Tweek slipped in and took a shower himself."

"You said he went to bed right after you two got back," Mr. Donovan pointed out.

Shit! Craig felt a sweat start across his skin.

From inside the room came the sound of a bed creaking. Tweek came up from behind Craig, a blanket covering his clothes.

"What's going on? Are we in trouble?" Tweek asked around a yawn. He sent a glare to Craig. "Was he tattling on me for taking a five minutes shower while he was trying to wash his stupid shirt? I thought he was done. I just woke back up, and showers help calm me down! He was the one who chased me out before I could turn the water off. The wasted water bill is all on him!"

Craig rolled his eyes, about to snap something back at Tweek, when Mr. Donovan interrupted.

"No, Tweek, no one is in trouble. You both have fifteen minutes before lights out, alright?"

Craig sighed internally. Thank God, Mr. Donovan seemed to have bought Tweek's lie.

"Yessir," Craig bobbed his head.

"I already was out before someone went to complain," Tweek muttered, turning on his heels and marching back towards his bed.

Mr. Donovan shook his head. "Fifteen minutes, boys." And with that, he left.

Craig shut and locked the door before slumping down, letting out his internal sigh. That was close, too close. Tweek's acting and quick thinking saved them once again.

~~~~

In the fifteen minutes before lights out, Tweek changed out of his clothes into his PJs and Craig took a quick shower to remove as much of the remaining red sauce and soda as he could. They hit the lights moments before one of the teachers made his rounds to tell everyone to go to bed.

Tweek pulled the covers up to his chin. His eyes flicked towards the digital clock on the bed stand. The plan was simple. After another fifteen minutes, he would sneak over to Craig's bed.

His stomach twisted. They were really going to do this, weren't they? Sleep in the same bed, not as platonic friends or as children, but as romantic adults.

What if he messed up? What if he rolled over and accidentally pushed Craig off the bed? What if Craig couldn't get comfortable with Tweek next to him and wasn't able to sleep?

This was just like their first kiss all over again!

No, he needed to calm down. Go to his calm mind space and breathe. It was just sleeping. It's not possible to mess up sleeping. This wasn't like the kiss where a thousand things could go wrong. He and Craig were going to snuggle up and sleep — and Tweek was not going to puke.

This was all just nervous excitement. He wanted this. He'd wanted this for a while now since he came to the conclusion that they weren't kids anymore.

This was the most adult part of a relationship they could do. This was what married people did. He and Craig skipped sex and went straight to something more deeply romantic!

As Tweek wondered how Craig thought about marriage, the fifteenth minute ticked by. The moment the digit on the clock changed, Craig shuffled around in his bed.

"Tweek, it's time," Craig whispered.

Tweek nodded, though he knew Craig couldn't see it, and began to crawl out from the covers. He padded the two steps between their beds before leaning down to grope the covers.

When he finally found the end of the blanket, he lifted it and slid under.

"Comfy?" Craig asked.

"Um, y-yeah!" Tweek rested his head against the pillow. "So, this is it, huh? Sleeping in the same bed, like adults."

"Not really," Craig replied.

"Huh? What are we doing wrong? We really like each other, and we're sleeping, together, in the same bed. That's exactly like adults do." Tweek chewed his lip. What was he forgetting?

Craig scooted closer to Tweek then rolled around so his back was towards him. Finally, he pressed his back against Tweek's front.

"Now, put your arms around me. This is how adults sleep." Craig muttered.

Tweek did as he was told and put an arm over Craig's side.

"What do I do with my other arm?" Tweek asked. "Sleep on it, or do I put it around your shoulders, or, um..." He tried to move his arm up to maneuver it under the pillow, only to clunk Craig in the head with his elbow.

As Tweek stammered apologies, Craig grunted in pain.  Craig shifted away to the other side of the bed.

Tweek's heart pounded in his chest. Great! They weren't even asleep yet and he'd messed it up!

The bed groaned as Craig reached off the side for his phone. He clicked it on, nearly blinding them both, before setting it between them.

"Maybe that's a little too advanced for the first time," Craig stated flatly. "You want to just, like, sleep face-to-face?"

Tweek wished Craig's phone would turn off so his boyfriend couldn't see the embarrassment on his face as he nodded. Craig didn't look annoyed about taking a hit to the head. If anything, he looked just as apprehensive as Tweek felt. That settled some of Tweek’s nerves, at least.

Tweek smiled at him, then pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"Night, Craig." Tweek murmured against his skin.

"Um, yeah, night." Craig smiled but refused to meet Tweek's eyes as he clicked off the phone. With how brightly both their cheeks were burning, it was a wonder that the room went back to being just as dark as before.

They lapsed into silence. Nothing but the humming of the thermal unit and their breathing filled the room.

So, this was it. This was what sleeping with his boyfriend was like. He'd laid down next to Craig before, but this was different. They weren't just watching a movie or trying to finish homework. This was deep and romantic and very mature!

Tweek focused on Craig's breathing as it began to slow. No doubt Craig would be asleep soon. Would it be alright if Tweek reached out and pulled Craig to his chest while he slept? Was that allowed, or would it be weird? Maybe he could just set his hand over Craig's side again or maybe--

A pair of cold feet pressed against his ankles, and Tweek bit back a yelp. Craig's toes pinched Tweek's legs, tugging unpleasantly at his leg hair, until his feet moved until they were under Tweek.

Craig muttered contently, "Warm..."

Tweek swallowed down a sharp, "No, cold actually!" and instead just let it slide. Part of being in a mature, adult relationship was making compromises, after all.

~~~~~~

Craig's cheerful alarm woke them early the next morning. Sometime during the night, they had become a tangled mess of teenage limbs, so it took Craig a bit to snake his arm out from around Tweek.

He turned off the alarm as Tweek yawned. Before he could stop him, Tweek snuggled closer, burying his nose against Craig's chest.

"We need to get up," Craig told him.

"Nooooo," Tweek whined back. "I just got comfortable."

"You weren't comfortable the rest of the night?" Craig teased. Tweek wouldn't have fallen asleep if he didn't feel safe and comfortable. That's just how Tweek was. They both knew it.

Though, Craig was inclined to agree. Last night was one of the better nights of sleep he's had in a while. Tweek was practically a human furnace, not to mention softer than the pillows themselves. When Craig had to pee halfway through the night, he'd ran to the bathroom and back so he wouldn't miss a second of Tweek's deep, comforting breathing.

Tweek turned his head up to fix Craig with a mildly annoyed expression. "Only when you weren't trying to freeze me with your feet. I'm getting you fuzzy socks for next time, man."

Craig raised an eyebrow, smirking. "There's going to be a 'next time'?"

Tweek nodded. "Well, yeah. If you want there to be."

With a laugh, Craig wrapped his arms around Tweek, pulling him close. Of course, there would have to be a next time, and a time after that, and a time after that...