the art of disintegration

Craig Tucker, 18, taken. Closed blog affiliated with smalltownrp.

[nanopianos]

{ i have tweek’s reply drafted buuut it’s stuck in a notepad file on our other computer, which is taking forever to update. i’ll post it as soon as i get access to it!!

[ohmygodtheykilled-deactivated20]

~undercover~ [craig/kenny]

[ohmygodtheykilled-deactivated20]

Kenny ducked to peer under Craig’s hat, staring straight into the blue eyes he’d grown up with. Paired with Craig’s signature “I really couldn’t give less of a fuck” nasal tone, Kenny would have had to be deaf, blind, and dead not to notice who it was.

But he thought he’d play along, just because. It wasn’t like he’d had anything else planned for the day;.

“Oh, a Wallson?” Kenny smiled, putting on his best Bambi eyes. There was no way Craig was falling for his ignorant act, but Tucker started it. “I’ve never heard of you around town. New here?” 

Then, just to cause Craig significant pain and inner turmoil (never let it be said that Kenny was just “a nice guy”), Kenny slid into line next to him, ignoring the protests of the people behind them.

“I guess I’ll just have to introduce myself, then.”

[nanopianos]

"The back of the line is that way."

Of course the little ass was enjoying every single second of this. Craig was beginning to question whether he made the right decision- maybe he should’ve just pushed the poor(er) kid down and made a run for it, but his allowance and his special tickets and Red Fucking Racer. And besides, if he did that, it would mean confirming his identity.

Kenny obviously saw through his act but he was nothing if not determined. Nobody was going to  find out about his love for this old kids' cartoon, and he will find a way to keep the blond’s mouth shut. For now, though, he’ll keep playing along, even if there was the nagging feeling of him digging his own grave.

“Yeah, I'm new," Craig replied, shrugging and burrowing in deeper into his oversized coat. Nonchalantly, he adjusted his sunglasses. "Just moved into town, actually. And you are?"

[nanopianos]

stupor { clyde + craig }

[princeofego-blog]

“Man… so aggressive at…” Clyde looks down to check his wristwatch. “…three in the morning…? Maybe you need to go to an anger management anonymous.” He genuinely doesn’t see Craig as the short-tempered one but the dude does leave out a lot of threats to people– regardless if they’re empty or not. The jock makes an attempt to stop Stripe from scurrying over to his best friend’s direction but to no avail and he ends up just losing his balance, falling face first down onto the snow.

Oddly enough, the piercing touch of the snow does little to bother him. His face feels warm anyway so it’s almost like a blessing in disguise! The brunet laughs and turns to lie on his back, grinning up at the shorter male. He feels so light-headed and even though he knows that it’s the effect of that repugnant booze his sister bought, he finds himself not minding at all. In fact, he’s starting to appreciate everything.

“You know, I do love how I still have a roof over my head.” He brings up a hand to wipe the snow off of his face, his speech slightly slurred at this point. “I mean, my dad could have given up when my mom died but nah, he’s working harder than anyone I’ve ever seen. And I love how my sister got into Harvard Law School. She deserves it.”

He reaches up to hold onto the edge of Craig’s jacket in an attempt to pull himself up. And once he’s back on his feet and towering over his best friend, he takes a few steps backwards and extends his arms to each side. “And I absolutely looooove how I’m still friends with my Craigster, Tokes, and Jim-Jimminy even when my new friends told you to just back off already. Man, you guys are the best! Especially you, man. You’re a cool gay baby.”

[nanopianos]

Craig elects to stand wordlessly and watch as Clyde tips over, landing face first in the snow. Smaller flakes start drifting down and powdering the jock's hair. A surge of pity fills him, watching the mess that is his best friend in front of him on the ground. He frowns when the other mentions the time. The urge to hurry back inside, place Stripe back into his cage and burrow himself into his blankets and comforters and pillows is strong. He would, but his best friend is here, alone and intoxicated.

The raven rubs tiredly at his eyes, half sure that dark circles are already starting to form under them. Stripe is shivering in his hands. "Clyde, you're right, it's three, so why don't you-" his warning is interrupted by his best friend going on a spiel. God, how weird. Things are starting to get emotional and odder and odder by the second, but Craig's feet stay firmly planted on the snow, shivering like the rest of him. He wonders what they look like to by-standers, but the street is luckily completely empty at the moment. A glance at his bedroom window informs him that Ruby has left his room and has probably slunk back into her own.

It's always a special kind of awkward when Clyde's mom is brought up. He, Token and Jimmy make it a point not to. He remembers the memory like it was just yesterday- Clyde breaking down in front of him, covering his blanket with tears and snot, the both of them alone in his room. It's something he thinks he doesn't want to ever see again because yeah, Clyde might be a crybaby, but he really hurt that day and he’s never been quite the same ever since. He lets Clyde use him as a means to pull himself up again and instead of looking down on him like he did earlier, like he was so used to when they were ten, the other now dwarfs him again. 

"Your new friends are assholes," Craig states it like he is simply pointing out the weather. "I don't know how you can stand being around them for more than a minute. God, and don't call me a gay baby, Clyde." Craig still doesn’t know where Clyde stands on his sexuality. His own dad might have accepted it, but still he lets how he views Clyde as The Model Son slip every now and then. It feels wrong, asking his intoxicated friend about it, but now is the best time to get an honest answer out of him. Clyde rarely drinks as it is, and he will do nothing but tiptoe around the issue when he is sober.

“Why do you even still hang out with those asshats? I don’t know why you’re friends with guys who look down on people like..." Craig holds Stripe closer to his chest. "...like me."

[dead12234352356456775]

dont. asky me why. cuz idkkkk-

[ohmygodtheykilled-deactivated20]

~undercover~ [craig/kenny]

If it hadn’t been such an unnaturally sunny day in South Park, Kenny would never have taken notice of the boy hidden under his giant coat and bigass scarf in line for the preview of “Red Racer: The Movie”. But since the day was so warm, the kid stuck out like a sore thumb.

Upon closer inspection, Kenny was so shocked he could have keeled over dead right there and then (he even put a hand on his heart to make sure it kept beating). Craig Tucker?

The kid looked excited. Well, excited for Craig, which was pretty much a smile on anyone else. 

Although Kenny would normally have passed Craig by, this was way too good of an opportunity to miss.

“Oy! Tucker!” Kenny grinned, bounding up to the mass of clothes.

[nanopianos]

Just when he thought this line could not get anymore nightmareish in its sluggishness because he has to the see the movie now, he hears fucking McCormick's voice. God could have given him someone more reasonable, someone more understanding like Wendy or Bebe or even Jimmy, but no. It had to be McCormick. He’d never hear the end of it.

He'd been so excited, too! Tickets freshly bought off the internet for the block premier of the Red Racer movie. He was even wearing his favorite Red Racer wristwatch underneath the big-ass coat.

Fight or flight, fight or flight, fight or flight.

"Yeah, no, I'm not a Tucker, sorry," Craig fights to keep his expression neutral, replying in the deepest, most un-nasal voice he can muster. Which isn't all that impressive, or un-nasally. 

"I'm a..." he looks around real quick, desperate for a name. A brick wall. A little boy with his father. "A...a Wallson."

[coffeexsugar-blog1]

a cuppa joe, please | closed rp - nanopianos

The teenager has a slender figure and a uniform two sizes too big. Sleep deprived with the only thing having him function is his mug of java (which sadly, was only half filled – he’ll need to get another cup soon). Tweek’s breath was slow and raspy, for every second he tried not to sleep came an audible groan occupying weariness. 

What a shame that despite all the coffee he loves, he cannot love his job as a barista. 

Each passing day is a routine to his mind, he does the same thing all over. The only excitable parts of his days were when he’d have to write down the names of people, and they’d give answers such as ‘Beyoncé’ or ‘Hinata Shouyou’. 

Tweek had a pretty weak sense of humour, it seems. He didn’t care, the cheesy writings were to work for at least. 

Though on rare occasions where he’s psyched, Tweek realises – embarrassingly – that it was those days when Craig stopped by that made the job worthwhile. He’d play off as cool, composed, levelheaded, but would fail with a dead giveaway of a smile. 

How frustrating, and it feels like this moment will inevitably end up as those days too. 

Presently, Tweek’s nearly done with the last order of café au lait; spots his boyfriend (could he even call Craig that? Their relationship isn’t too well established) and now he wants to turn away and pretend he’s busy with something, anything, as long as it keeps the other away from him. 

The blond still isn’t used to seeing Tucker enter his family’s shop. It gave off that strangely domestic feeling and oh man, that’s pretty damn gay.

“Ah, hey,’’ Tweek turns around eventually, because he’s left with no choice. “Here to order anything, or did you simply come here to– uh, stare?’’

[nanopianos]

As soon as Craig opens the door to the store, he is surrounded by the scent of the roasted coffee that’s made this little store so popular. As a kid, he didn’t really care much for the beverage, but ever since he started hanging out with dating Tweek, he’s grown to acquire a taste for it. He always takes it black, of course, because anything with cream or sugar is obviously for girls.

A quick glance around the store tells him that nobody’s in line, that most customers already have their drinks...and that his spot, one of the chairs up by the counter, is currently being taken over by a girl a few years younger than him.

He glares her down and pormptly she avoids his gaze, gathering her school stuff and cup and scurrying away. All of this done behind the blond’s back- although honestly, he thinks Tweek is already more than aware of how much of an asshole he can be. Still, along the line, he’s been a teensy bit more careful with his displays of aggression around his boyfriend.

He parks his butt up on the chair and waits for the blond to acknowledge his presence, with the intention of staring at the back of his boyfriend's head until he turns around. And stare he did, so much so that his boyfriend notices, and he doesn’t really stop for a few good seconds even after the fact.

“I dunno...do you want me to? As for the order, I'll have the usual. Black, to go.” He sighs, attention drifting back to the other’s blond strands. “Your hair’s in tangles again. Is your shift ending?"

[knightlyprodigy-blog]

thread of many colors - craig/ike

“What do you mean you’ve mixed our clothes up?” Ike was starting to take a dim view at his patience for these people’s stupidity. Although, he knows he should lay claim to a fraction of the blame here since it was plainly a mistake to be confident of someone else other than his mum or himself to do his laundry.

Sheila Broflovski had been down with the flu these days so Ike had no choice but to bring his laundry to the nearest non-self-service launderette. He could very well wash his own clothes by himself but with his Algebra test coming up, he just couldn’t find the time to do the necessary household chores.

He should have known better though.

The guy behind the counter who was supposed to handle the laundry professionally didn’t even look ashamed of what he had done. “A lot of our washing machines are broken so I had no choice but to wash your clothes and his clothes in one machine.” He then looked at the other customer who stood beside Ike. “You okay with that, yeah man?”

“Of course he’s not okay with it, you dildo.” Ike snapped to which earned him a glare from the employee. The Canadian paid no heed to him as he redirected his attention to the other customer. “You don’t possibly find this acceptable–” Just when he finally got a good look at the guy, he immediately recognized him as a classmate of Kyle’s so he quickly added, “–do you, Craig?”

[nanopianos]

All Craig could offer the man was a noncommittal shrug. He was starting to wish the guy who would knock himself out or something. With the way he carried himself, sleazily and with little regard for anybody or anything else, Craig wouldn’t be surprised if that happened any minute. He expected nothing less from one of the many asshats inhabiting this town.

But from an outsider’s point-of-view the dark-haired boy was the very picture of icy; calm and collected, with the disposition of a statue. Zero fucks to give. Had said outsider delved into his head they’d see, plain as day, that the normally stoic boy was freaking the fuck out.

The younger boy- Craig vaguely recognizes him as one of those guys’ little brother- seemed to think otherwise, though and silently he seconded the notion. This was totally not okay. Okay was the last thing he and this situation was, because lurking in that fucked up mound of clothes was a bright red pair of boxers with “Red Racers Rulez!” loudly printed across the ass.

Maybe he was finally being punished for all the shit he- and continues to- pulled.

When Ike turned to him and asked him about their dirty situation, Craig let a careless hum slip through his lips. Maybe he could still turn this around. “I honestly don’t care. Look, whatever, I’ll just get my stuff and leave. Not a big deal.“

[loko-z]

I can’t wait

[poshfather]

our beloved homosexual

[nanopianos]

stupor { clyde + craig }

[princeofego-blog]

Clyde’s not a drinker and not just because he can’t handle his alcohol well, the mere taste of an alcoholic drink is just downright repugnant. But when you’ve got an older sister visiting you from Harvard and wants to spend the night with you drinking and catching up on things, then you really don’t have a choice. Especially if you look up to this sister of yours.

Cynthia– Clyde’s older sister– has already passed out on the couch, mumbling something in her sleep like she always does. Clyde isn’t feeling particularly well either but he takes his time anyway in cleaning up all the beer cans and bags of chips that are left scattered around the living room. There’s a sluggish stagger in his movements which is something he isn’t used to. And when he finally stepped out to take out the trash, he sees him. That one particular guinea pig he has grown to know so well is scampering down to the Tuckers’ driveway and the only thing that has come to Clyde’s mind is ‘Wow, I sure love guinea pigs.’ He dumps the trash bag down on the pavement and sets off for Stripe, feeling ridiculously lucky that the Tuckers reside just right beside his house.

“Heyyyy, Stripe! Stripey! Stripeerooooo!” The quarterback grins as he crouches down– while almost losing his balance in the process– before giving the small critter a pat. Stripe has stopped just right in front of him as though it’s been craving attention all night. A familiar voice suddenly catches his attention though and it takes a huge amount of willpower for him to take his eyes away from the pet and look up to see no other than his best friend, seeming to be in disbelief.

“Hi, Craigster…” He never used that nickname but it just sounds so right at the moment. “Man, don’t you just looove guinea pigs? I know I do. I think Stripe wants to like– uh– move in to my place. Hehehe… You must be one fucked up of an owner,”

[nanopianos]

Craigster?

“Call me that again and you’ll lose a tooth,” Craig murmurs, although he knows Clyde won’t take the threat seriously. He trusts in the brunet enough to know that he knows that Craig’s aggressiveness is reserved for the people who deserve it, like that Mormon kid in elementary or when they first thought it was Kenny who got lice. 

Good god, this was worse than he thought it was going to be. He isn’t even anywhere near his mouth and yet already Craig can smell the dull, heady scent of alcohol drifting from his friend’s yapping trap. Seeing his childhood friend hilariously intoxicated is weird and he feels it’s completely off because Clyde probably has the alcohol tolerance of a little kid. Hell, Craig can name five grade school kids who can outdrink him anyday of the week. Actually having to interact with him like this, in the middle of the night, with just the two of them, is starting to become downright unnerving. Bordering on repulsive, even. And it is hard to admit, but that bit about Stripe moving into Clyde's place hurt.

Maybe nobody but his friends know about it, but Craig takes excellent care of his guinea pigs and has grown wholly attached to them, more attached than anyone would give him credit for. But it looked like in his drunken stupor Clyde had forgotten. "Your room is the last place Stripe wants to end up in, trust me. I don’t want him anywhere near your crusty socks. Gross.”

Craig lets out a little sigh that turns into white wisps in the cold, winter air. “You're hammered, Clyde. Drag your ass back home before your dad or your sister finds out," Craig retorts, kneeling down and scooping the guinea pig up from the snow and into his waiting hands.He watches Stripe sniff the air before eagerly peering up over his fingers at Clyde. The little traitor. If it comes down to it, though, he’d probably have to haul his friend’s butt back to his place himself. Who knows what kind of trouble he’d get into if he wandered around alone at this time of the night? He isn’t gonna lie- Clyde is his friend.

[oizumi-deactivated20191118]

Haruka Nanase + 9 gifs || requested by kawaii-shota

[nanopianos]

stupor { clyde + craig }

"I think Stripe got out again."

Craig groans and turns over, dragged from his sleep by his sister’s voice and incessant poking. The message didn't come across clearly enough because he asks her to repeat it, the words coming out of his mouth all sleep-garbled.  Ruby unleashes an annoyed sigh. "Stripe. Got. Out."

That felt like a bucket of ice cold water being dumped on him, because before he knows it he's bolting up and out of the room, hastily throwing on the first shirt he can grab and leaving an irritated sister in his wake. At the doorway he slips on his fuzzy slippers and trudges out into the cold, bitter night. Almost immediately he regrets not putting gloves on, because the icy wind bites at his skin. He hates that even after years of living in this godawful town he still hasn't fully acclimated to the cold. Maybe he never will, and that might be a sign.

Stripe breaking out isn't a common occurrence, but it does happen often enough to make Craig worried. He doesn't care that he looks a mess right now, with his hair flattened on one side of his head and a line of half-dry saliva trailing out of his mouth- he needs to get Stripe back before anything happens to him. God knows what could, too, living in South Park and all. Much to his surprise, he spots a familiar figure smack dab in the middle of their empty driveway. Said figure is crouching unsteadily, looking like he'll tip over any moment, but to Craig’s relief, he is petting the renegade guinea pig. Craig approaches him and the more he realizes who it is, the more exasperated he  grows.

“Oh, Jesus. Clyde?”