you are my angel.

multimuse | active disclaimer: i did not create nor own any of the characters on this blog specifically.

[sugarpowder]

blood sugar s3x magik.

hyuckarps​:

a laugh sounds from him when kyle says anything about telling people. he would have thought kyle wouldnt want anyone to know about him and any kind of sex magick, but maybe he had assumed too much prudeness in kyle. “okay, cool. i don’t have anyone to tell. just thought you’d be the type scared of sex. magic. i feel like its kind of taboo? i dunno why though. i think it’s fun if you can control it. right? i bet you’ll find some cool shit in research.”

kenny nods, kind of excited to possibly understand himself a little more. he almost bounces standing in front of the slightly taller boy.

kyle realizes with an affectionate horror that kenny is the kind of person who has a specific face dedicated to thinking. it’s quite possibly the cutest thing he’s ever seen - and that realization comes perfectly paired with a sinking feeling in his gut. to think such a thing, would that be considered cheating on his boyfriend? god, probably. he hasn’t even had one official tutoring session with kenny - not really - and he’s already up to his neck in hot water. damn his need to receive approval from every older authority figure in his life, and his inability to turn down the headmaster because of it! 

somehow, right when the headmaster comes to kyle’s mind, kenny mentions him too - and is he implying what i think he’s implying?

his lip quivers in disgust - he is! he showed the headmaster his magic in order to get in. oh god, i’ll never see the old man in the same way ever again! oh, how he wished that revelation would uproot his need for the headmaster’s validation, but alas, it did not - deep-seated mama trauma was tough to shake.

swallowing down his upset of emotions in time to respond to kenny’s line of questions, kyle says (rather even-toned, all things considering), “yes, i’ll do the research and come back to you with some ideas. potential solutions, if you will. your history will likely help with that process, but it’s not entirely necessary if you feel uncomfortable divulging it...”

it dawns on him that kenny is thinking kyle wants him to go around telling everyone about his sex magic. the thought is so absurd, it hadn’t even entered the realm of potential risks for kyle. his mouth opens, then shuts, then opens again - he’s flailing drastically, not unlike a fish on a cutting board. 

“please, for the love of whatever you believe in, do not go around telling people you’re some succubus with powers of seduction,” kyle warns sternly. “i just meant, if people see us together and don’t know i’m tutoring you, their mind will go to dirty places. your sex magic doesn’t even need to enter the equation what. so. ever. we’re going to fix your weird magic block anyways, so the general public don’t need all the details - what matters is, by the end of all this craziness, you’ll be all fixed and i’ll get the credit i deserve, and nobody needs to actually know what form your magic took originally.”

kyle fixes the strap of his messenger bag - it’s digging into his shoulder a bit uncomfortably after kenny pushed him into the wall. he continues once it’s been straightened and set back into place. “in fact, aside from me, you, and your roommate-” and the headmaster, kyle doesn’t say, “-knowing the truth, our story should be as simple as possible. i’m tutoring you because you can’t control your magic. that’s it.” 

kyle’s nose scrunches up in a laugh he can’t stop. “jesus, why would you even think i’d want everyone to know i’m helping you with sex magic?”

[sugarpowder]

blood sugar s3x magik.

hyuckarps​:

kenny doesn’t think it hurts to give a little bit of a puppy dog eye look. he really is serious about getting help, which is what got him so angry to begin with. he’s so tired of being misunderstood.

“if you agree to help, i won’t tell anyone or nothin’ if you’re worried about misunderstandings. just sayin,”

kyle can breathe easy again when kenny takes his hands off him. he steps away from the wall and straightens his spine; he’s got better posture than most pro ballerinas, that’s what happens when you have a jewish mother constantly correcting you. he gives kenny a dagger sharp glare when he insinuates that kyle would be an easy fuck. his mouth twists up like he’s just bitten into a lemon. 

he’s about to comment that pick up lines don’t work on him anyways, kenny would have to bust out some real romantic shit to get him swooning, and it would in fact take quite a lot for anyone to get kyle to agree to intercourse - 

but then kenny asks him a serious question, and he sticks the landing beautifully with the perfect phrase to get any overachiever on your side. or are you gonna give up?

kyle broflovski never. ever. gives up. he feels that fire light up inside him again, and it’s burning hotter than before.

“honestly? i’m not sure,” he admits. “i’ve never heard of someone with a problem like yours, it’s going to take a few days of researching to see if there is anyone else out there with your... unique abilities. but once i’ve got more information to go off of... well, of course i’m going to help you. that wasn’t supposed to ever be out of the question. i do actually want to see you succeed at this school.” 

he does have to wonder though - what did kenny mean by ‘misunderstandings’ when he promised not tell anyone anything? were people seriously going to think he and kenny had something between them if he started tutoring him? that would be preposterous - kyle is very much out and happy with his boyfriend. they’re even a power couple on campus. so... was it just kenny’s mind, taking things too far? or was it his own mind playing that trick? 

“i think... not telling people that i’m your tutor would only make things more confusing,” he says after a moment. “so, please! feel free to tell the whole world that i’m helping you with coursework... i would hate for anyone to get the wrong idea.” 

[sugarpowder]

blood sugar s3x magik.

hyuckarps​:

he pushes kyle back into the wall, cornering him a little more. “i was serious. my magic is really attached to sex, i don’t actually need help on the course work. i’ve been trying to figure out a way to explain this for weeks, i don’t need some dickwad to do my homework in exchange for sex. i’d ask for cash in exchange for sex, fuck homework, that’s some stupid bullshit! who would even trade sex for homework? nerds don’t even dick well. i’ll give you nerd tits, but i’m into people with actual personalities.”

spit flecks across kyle’s face from kenny’s vicious, pink lips - the other boy’s teeth are like canines as his mouth curls into a sneer. for a horrifying moment, kyle thinks he might cry. tears threaten to unleash, welling up in his eyes, but he blinks them back rapidly before any can fall. the last thing he needs right now is for kenny to see him crying. it’s not even like he cares about getting called slurs - half the time he’s the one slinging the very same verbiage, so it’s not about that. it’s just the ferocity with which kenny says it that’s got kyle’s stomach twisting tightly into knots. 

he goes completely rigid against the wall. he’s bigger than kenny, in more ways than one - a little taller, a little stockier too, with a bit more muscle and meat to his bones. he could easily barrel the blonde over if he really wanted to, but he can’t bring himself to move so much as an inch. he’s wincing against the bite of kenny’s words, unable to make eye contact. he’s breathing heavy too, his chest sinking and then seizing against kenny’s skinny arm where it’s pressing into him, keeping him pinned into place.

something about what kenny finishes on hurts worse than all else that preceded it. his words are reminiscent of kyle’s internal conflict from before. what would i be, if not a good little student and a perfect little witch? 

the answer? probably not much.

kyle’s voice is pathetic and small, practically a white flag of surrender, when he raises his resistance. “i do too have a personality,” he says. it’s the least convincing argument he’s ever constructed - and this is supposed to be coming from the academy’s reigning debate team champion in the past three years? it’s sad, seriously sad.

“and i want to believe you- i do! but excuse me if ‘sex magic’ is hard to wrap my head around, when it sounds like some pickup line... i thought you were just taking the piss,” he says. he’s big enough to admit when he’s wrong, so he tacks on a shaky, “i’m sorry. okay? jesus christ. can you let me go...?” 

[sugarpowder]

blood sugar s3x magik.

hyuckarps​:

“so, i like to fuck.” kenny starts, and maybe that’s not the best idea, but it’s what he’s giving. “and i use to get all the shit going crazy if i was doin something sex related. then, over the break, i fucked around with my roommate, and we kinda figured out that’s why i wasn’t able to do magic shit in class. cuz i’m not going down on someone, or even horny. fuck. so, you wanna see me do some magic? that’s how. and i don’t know how to harness it unless i fuck around.”

kyle doesn’t know how to comprehend anything kenny’s saying right now - his face is getting hotter by the second, turning as red as his roots. he sits there without speaking - he’s barely even breathing. it’s near impossible to render him speechless; he’s a bit of a smart ass and he’s always been argumentative, the type to get the last word in no matter what. so for him to genuinely be at a loss for words is truly an incredible feat.

the more kenny speaks, the more flustered kyle gets. finally, his embarrassment crescendoes - and here comes the magical outburst, unable to be curbed any longer. every single book on the shelves behind him flurry from their posts. there’s an explosion of paper, punctuated by a distinctly resonant boom that’s sure to get every librarian in the surrounding area shushing him with fervor. 

the destroyed pages of nearly fifty to seventy five books come floating down around them, gentle like snowflakes. upon a closer look, kyle can see the papers are singed along the edges, each scrap curling in on itself. they’re starting to gather in piles along the nearby windowsill, on the table, in every little nook and cranny. more than a few are caught up in kyle’s hair, tiny paper birds in a curly crimson nest.

finally, kyle finds his voice. 

“no.”

he says it again for good measure.

“nope.” 

and again. “absolutely not.”

his rage has always burned fiercely hot within his veins, and he can feel it catching the kindling, rising to the surface. he lets it take over - this has to be some sort of sick joke. he can’t seriously be suggesting they hook up. he’s speaking with full force before he’s caught up with himself; it takes him a second to fully realize that he’s started tearing into kenny, the last couple sentences spoken aloud rather than internally blazing.

“and if you think i’m going to just do all your homework for you in exchange for some- some stupid, sloppy action that’s already been run through your roommate, well- no thank you! i’m very serious with my boyfriend, and- and i am here to actually help you catch up with your coursework, not just fuck around! so unless you plan on telling me the truth, i’m out of here, and i’m telling the headmaster he can send you packing for all i care. the nerve!”

he’s fully yelling now, and combined with the book-splosion he’s just set off, he has caught the attention of one of the librarians. she is hurriedly shuffling over to them, whisper-screaming for them to get out. her claw-like hand is spinning a circle through the air, and all of the pages start rattling wildly in response, flying around to find their leather bindings and repairing themselves. but the paper storm catches kyle in the crossfire - he gets a thin cut along his cheek from one of the fragments zipping past him to rejoin its page mates, and isn’t that just great? he lets out an angry snort at kenny like even the cut across his face is the other boy’s fault. 

kyle hurriedly gathers his school bag from the chair. he bumps kenny’s shoulder as he pushes past him, deadset on making his escape. he’s heading for the door.

[sugarpowder]

blood sugar s3x magik.

hyuckarps​:

“it isn’t like—i have been able do spells. just not normal ones. that’s it, honestly. i figured out what was wrong like, a week ago but it isn’t really… normal. so i can’t show you either. like magical performance anxiety. i’d have to be in private to show you anything.” he rubs his cheeks, squishing them together and a whine comes from somewhere in him, but it isn’t very loud. just his inner annoyance coming out with the sheer fact he can’t even explain the issue without sounding crazy.

kyle knows that sigh - that’s the you must be fun at parties sigh. obviously, kyle is not fun at parties nor does he try to be. hell, he doesn’t even go to parties. totally not his scene. but infamous party participators - like kenny - often give him that sigh when he’s said something particularly frustrating and dorky. and even though he knows they’re technically right, it still gets under his skin when he’s on the receiving end of that exhale. he chews the inside of his cheek to keep himself from biting back. 

but then kenny’s talking, and kyle genuinely does need to listen, so he concentrates on scribbling down the sentiment to kenny’s rambling. two years ago, plenty of magic to go around, and then - just as kyle expected - poof. how peculiar. 

there’s a few things kenny says that especially piques kyle’s interest. too much hair? he already figured out what was wrong? have to be in private? what the hell did all of that mean? his hand eventually comes to a stop on the page, unsure of what he’s supposed to write down. 

“so you can do spells, but you can’t perform them in front of other people,” he summarizes, to the best of his abilities. “and you’re sure it’s linked to anxiety? it kind of sounds like...”

kyle reaches around inside his brain, searching the farthest corners for some resemblance to the random case studies he’s read before. he’s drawing a blank - except for the obvious. it sounds like he’s some middle aged man...

“well, it kind of sounds like you’re describing erectile dysfunction. but, uh, your magic is your... penis.” kyle’s voice is flatter than a flat white from the library coffee shop. 

[sugarpowder]

blood sugar s3x magik.

hyuckarps​:

kenny sees him hiding in a corner—just the way he prefers, honestly—and he heads straight for him. “sup,” he says simply, pulling the chair out with what manages to be a coolness and a lameness all at the same time. it tended to be his charm. he plops down, hoodie pulled over his face. “so—i’m shit at this book crap, we’re not gonna just read right? i’m—i like follow it all in class.”

suddenly, there kenny is - right in front of him, materialized from thin air. the first and only thing kyle can think for a solid thirty seconds is, oh. he’s actually... pretty? he’s even prettier up close than i remembered. 

the second thing kyle thinks about is, how did he sneak up on me like that? maybe that’s his magic in action - and wouldn’t that make things complicated, if your powers hinged on being undetectable? 

kyle swallows around his newly dried tongue. he recognizes all the signs of attraction. he’s familiar with this feeling - he’s a nineteen year old, for crying out loud, his hormones are amped up like crazy and he isn’t blind. he knows when someone looks good. but he’s also used to ignoring those feelings. he ignored being attracted to men for the first sixteen years of his life - he’s feeling fairly confident he can keep any signs under wraps during their studies. he’s going to have to. he’s got a boyfriend, thank you very much.

he reanimates after his temporary lapse, shaking his head and sending his ringlets bouncing. “uh, hi,” he says. it comes out drier than he intended, but in the case of hiding any interest in kenny’s appearance, that’s actually a good thing. 

“no, we aren’t going to be ‘just’ reading. we’re going to be reading and writing, among many other things. but i think it would be best to start at the beginning; i want to get a feeling for what i’m working with here. the headmaster has left it up to me to get your abilities whipped into shape, and i’m not in the business of playing around. let’s take this seriously. okay?”

he flicks his hand, conjuring a pen from the depths of his leather messenger bag. another gentle wave of his fingers and his books all flutter closed. he pulls his journal close, preparing to take notes on whatever it is kenny has to say. he doesn’t want to miss any details - you never know what might be important until you can look at it again later.

“so, when did you first begin to express your magic? when did you start experiencing your block?” kyle asks. his brow furrows. “and... any idea why you can’t perform in class? the headmaster tells me you haven’t been able to... do. anything. since you got here. and the spells aren’t exactly advanced at this level.”

[sugarpowder]

blood sugar s3x magik.

with kenny ( @hyuckarps​ )

there is nothing quite like being asked to tutor someone. 

first of all, it’s a great confidence booster - the fill your head, inflate your ego kind of pride that can keep you afloat for the rest of the day. the headmaster validating all of your hardworking efforts and academic accomplishments? acknowledging you above all other peers, even ones that technically score higher on tests in classes like ‘mummification of small beasts’ or ‘potion preparation’ - yeah, of course that feels great.

but then comes the dread as realization seeps in. a million questions begin to boil and bubble, causing toil and trouble. when am i going to have any time to tutor someone, on top of all my coursework? and, how am i supposed to teach a kid like him anything? and the very worst thought of all, if i fail at getting his grades up, how is that going to reflect on me? 

yes, tutoring is a blessing... but it’s also a dreaded curse. it’s a curse that is so preposterous in nature, it certainly isn’t allowed utterance anywhere on school grounds - by anyone other than the headmaster himself. and the headmaster has just uttered it.

that’s right, kyle broflovski has just been asked to tutor kenny mccormick. the kenny mccormick. one of the only kids allowed into the south park school for the magically gifted, who comes from no money and - worst of all - no magic. he apparently showed great promise on his entrance exam, had been giving his parents a downright difficult time with how often his manifestations wreaked havoc on their already rundown house, but after about a year of attendance at the academy... well, nobody could really explain what happened. his powers seemed to just... poof. they were gone without a trace.

kyle has never said this aloud to anyone, and he never planned on saying it either, because that would just be rude - but what happened to kenny is actually one of his biggest fears. he shudders, just thinking of it now. his entire identity hinges on magical proficiency. he would be nothing without it. and now, every other afternoon, he’s actually going to sit across from living proof that the most awful thing imaginable could really happen? it sent a chill through his entire body. no thank you, he wanted so desperately to say - but how could he say no to someone like the headmaster?

suppressing a grimace, kyle manages to flatten his face into a more natural, neutral expression. he leafs through his textbooks, skimming through the last chapters they covered in the classes they shared - study is basically second nature to him now, it takes no time at all for him to refresh his memory on the material. tucked away in the quietest corner of the massive library on campus, he waits for his walking worst nightmare to arrive. 

[sugarpowder]

a little bit of privacy.

with john ( @runawayfairie )

          if there was anything these two had in common, it was their ability to word vomit all over whatever situation they were in and feel like the biggest idiots while doing so. how was it that Dave hadn’t asked to switch dorms with someone more normal? now he had to be the one to act like he didn’t totally think his roomie was defiling soup cans, even when he said he wasn’t, and that he didn’t totally think.. about it. no no no- not think about it like that, cuz no homo, but.. maybe just..

          “ah shut up john, just change your pants you idiot and go watch a movie like a normal person.”

for the record, dave did not think john meant he was about to go beat his meat when he said he needed to do something. even the most expert conspiracy theorist probably wouldn’t put red string connecting those two things together given these circumstances - these very unsexy chef boyardee related circumstances. but for some reason... john had linked one and two concepts together, which could only mean one thing.

he’s got sex on the brain, my man.

and it’s all dave’s fault. he’s corrupted his roommate, scarred him without even trying - damn, he really is the worst sometimes. but also... john’s thinking of him in a masturbatory manner? he’s worthy of choking the chicken over, according to his adorkable roomie? 

dave barely has time to process what’s going on before he’s being shut out of john’s room completely, which okay, he guesses that’s fair. it’s not like he didn’t completely shut john out of the apartment, like, a little more than half a second ago. if he had to guess, it’d be like, one-point-sixth of a second. how does math work again? fuck, thinking this out in words in his head is hard - let’s try that again. he closed him out of the apartment, like approximately 0.612 seconds ago. yeah, that sounded right. so who is he to get upset at john for shutting him out? he did the exact same thing, didn’t he?

he’s still holding the movies, dumbstruck on the other side of john’s bedroom door. he examines them closer - they’re both horribly cheesy, one features nic cage and that’s the obvious choice here, it’s a crowd pleaser with john and he figures he’ll go with that one to make john feel a little happier since he’s apparently just had the fright of his life, running in on a falsely perceived porny pasta fiasco. 

fuck. he should grab a notebook and a pen to write all this down, because it’s weird but it’s kinda... straight fire poetry coming out the top of his head right now. 

he shakes himself - no, he needs to go put all the fucking pasta cans away from in front of the TV and go put on the nic cage movie, a.k.a being a good roommate and friend to his good roommate and friend john.

he puts the cans back in the pantry within record time, and even goes the extra mile of getting a bag of pre-buttered popcorn into the microwave. he jumps over the back of the couch, sticks the landing, and sets up the movie for them. trying to be as casual as humanly possible, he calls out to john, “hey, uh, movie’s all set up, ready to go...!”

when john comes into the room, he says, “so, i went with our man cage, hope you’re in the mood for some sick enunciation and a face made of rubber.” he bumps his shades up higher on the bridge of his nose, wanting to hide the way he’s cringing at himself - probably not the best to kind of insult your friend’s fave actor? trudging onwards, he continues. “we’ve also got some popcorn coming up, it is popping away as we speak, and i wanna see you get real excited because, dude, i am serving you some serious home theatre right now.”

he smiles awkwardly, then pats the spot on the couch beside him. is it within bounds to invite someone to sit close when you’ve just realized they were thinking of you, like... that? at this point, who even knows anymore. he offers the spot anyways. he just wants things to feel a little bit normal again, for john’s sake - poor kid’s probably got a weak heart after all this.

[sugarpowder]

schoolhouse rock.

with jimbo ( @skoolbully )

admittedly, this gesture could be taken so very wrong despite her absolute best intentions. she only wants to help, but those have been the famous last words of many well-meaning busybodies when they take that first step - or as some like to say, when they stick their nose where it doesn’t belong. starting a conversation about someone’s academic work ethic could definitely be taken as rude, and any observations she’s made could be thrown rightfully back in her face as none of your business, and certainly an offer to help someone with their course load could be shot down by a hundred other retorts. yet here she is, mentally running through the speech she’s prepared one more time - making sure there aren’t any rough spots she needs to revise last minute - before she actually goes and says it.

hey! i don’t know if you know me - i’m wendy testaburger, the student body president, and... well, i couldn’t help but notice you’ve been falling behind on the homework, and you’ve been missing a few more days recently... it’s my job to notice these things, to care about our class. not just the classes but also the students! and, well, that’s why i wanted to ask if you’d like me to help you catch back up on everything? i just thought i should offer, so... let me know! 

ugh, why does it all sound so... wrong, suddenly? 

after a week of agonizing over how to approach jimbo jones , the unapproachable - is this seriously the best she could come up with? she pulls at her trademark beret, adjusting it in her nervousness. she’s starting to get the feeling a rehearsed approach isn’t going to get her anywhere - why would anyone respond well to something that sounds as organic as sponsored product placement ads? 

but she also can’t go waltzing up to someone like, i’ve noticed the spike in detentions being served, it feels like you’re getting a little meaner in the halls and i’m a little more worried than the average person probably should be considering we’ve never officially spoken to each other. she would one hundred thousand percent come off as an obsessive stalker type, not observant-and-empathetic.

so, okay. she’s starting to think she should go off-book for this. wendy testaburger doesn’t typically work without a script - the thought alone scares her more than she would like to admit - but she doesn’t know any other way to play this. 

they share about a third of their classes, with next period being one of them, and when that bell rings she walks determinedly into the room and marches right up to - no one. oh, right. he’s terminally tardy. so she waits along the back wall of the classroom until class actually starts. resigned, she sits down by one of the only empty desks left and just... waits some more.

she taps her pen, anxious and watching the door more than the chalkboard. when he arrives - the teacher scolding him as he does - she sits up straighter, on high alert. he has his choice of seating either beside her, or in front of her - everything else has already filled out. once he’s settled in, she reaches out to tap him... then stops herself, hesitating.

she realizes she didn’t fully think this through - she would have to talk over the teacher to have this conversation, and landing herself in detention would kind of defeat the whole point of this. pulling out a sheet of notebook paper, she hurriedly scribbles a note:

hi! i’m wendy you’re jim, right?

and then tosses it over to him. thank goodness for her time spent on the girl’s volleyball team - she was able to serve that sucker like nobody’s business. the folded paper lands squarely on the center of his desk.

[hyuckarps]

↳ GFX : 001. SNS. TITLED: kenny, you bastard.

kenny doesn’t post much on instagram, but showing off your brand new boyfriend is a big deal.

[sugarpowder]

night on the town.

with kenny ( @hyuckarps​ )

when they walk to the bar—kenny making sure that craig doesn’t move his hand from his waist—he whispers into craig’s ear, getting so close. and, then, just like everything else, he finishes it very unceremoniously. “i want a beer… and a shot somethin’, you choose.”

craig raises an eyebrow at the evidently nervous princess - she’s really different when she’s not performing, he remarks. she had been all confident grabbing him to the beat of some dirty pop song, but the minute she’s in craig’s arms, she’s laughing on the edge of hysteria and looking shy. it’s cute, really cute. way cuter than he expected from someone who approached him first, and with such crude confidence no less. but it seems like her shyness isn’t here to stay long, because she’s immediately back to flirting like she hadn’t lapsed for a second.

“tongue action,” he repeats with interest. the phrase is boyish, only solidifying his attraction to the drag queen in his embrace. “yeah. tongue action is the reason i drove out to denver tonight. i could deal with some more of that.” the way his tone comes across, it makes him sound almost sarcastic. to make sure the other guy knows he’s seriously interested, he adds an offer of his own to the mix. “i wanna make you a real pillow princess tonight. if you’d let me.”

he’s privately proud of himself for utilizing the other’s drag name in his come on. his upper lip twitches into the tiniest smirk.

when the other man pulls at the string to his panty, his eyes drop distractedly. he tries not to show how badly it effects him, but his hard swallow is pretty hard to miss. he looks at her with that smirk still there, and it’s pretty clear that he found it hot as is.

recovering, he shakes himself a little and explains, “oh, yeah, i didn’t realize tonight was a drag event... i just came here after work. because i felt up to it. so i didn’t bring any cash. but i do have money.” he pats his pocket where his wallet sits comfortably, then nods in the direction of the bar, a nonverbal follow me, i’ve got this.

they make it to the bar still linked together, craig’s arm almost protective around her cinched tight waist as they navigate the crowd. he leans into her automatically as she whispers her drink order. the proximity inspires a soft chill down both his arms. he nods once to let her know he understands what she wants, then turns to the bartender and shouts over the music to be heard. a bud light, a shot of fireball, and a rum and coke for himself.

he takes a sip from his drink - and then he keeps sipping until he’s finished it. he orders himself a second before turning back to her. “i’ve never actually been to a drag event before,” he admits, his smile now fuller than before. “guess you could think of this as you taking my drag virginity tonight. that’s kind of fun.” 

[sugarpowder]

down by the bay.

with stan ( @hyuckarps )

“wendyl is the only guy i’ve been with,” he laughs, almost sour, but the sourness isn’t at wendyl. more himself. the fear of telling randy when he has already been on his bad side because of fucking art. even his mom gets scary when he thinks too hard. and fuck, cartman would just love to be an ass about him being with dudes. it’s embarrassing how much of a piss baby he is about this stuff.

stan’s got that right - craig had been pissed when half of stan’s needy, untouchable, exclusive little clique came out. the one time he needed them to soak up all the attention like they always did, they were completely complacent, for once satisfied with fading to the background. he wanted to punch something back then, and honestly, the memory of it kinda makes him wanna punch something right now, too.

but his tendency to punch things is exactly why he’s lost all of his friends - it never had anything to do with his sexuality. so he clenches his fist, then unfurls it, feeling the emotion drain out of him with the action.

butters and kenny? that’s a new one. go figure, though - if kenny’s the one saying it then it’s probably true. kenny didn’t have any reason to lie.

he doesn’t say anything about how he feels, simply nodding along to stan’s comments and letting the one-sided conversation carry him. he’s never been the talkative type - that only worsens when he drinks.

it isn’t until stan talks about being with wendyl that he decides a reply is necessary. “yeah? how does that make you feel,” he asks. he doesn’t entirely care what stan feels about wendyl’s coming out - he braces himself for any accidental transphobia that is likely to follow the question - but he does care about why stan is bringing up being with guys. he needs to figure out if stan is gunning for action tonight, because if that’s the case, he needs to shut it down or at least be prepared for any advancements the other might make. they are definitely too trashed to do anything tonight - but he’s observed countless times that that usually doesn’t stop teens in south park.

as an afterthought, he adds, “you know, i always thought you and kyle were a thing. you two sure used to spend a lot of time together.” 

[sugarpowder]

night on the town.

with craig ( @sugarpowder )

the song eventually ends and he collects the cash before going backstage to stash it before he returns to the floor, looking for the guys that will inevitably wanna buy him a drink. he catches eyes with craig again though, and smiles at the other, not even sure if recognizes him. it’s not like its surprising for either of them to be here. but craig hasn’t really seen kenny be like this.

for such a small town, it’s not an exaggeration to say that south park has everything. considering the energy the town attracts, it shouldn’t be surprising, but for some reason it always comes as a surprise when people discover there’s actually a fairly active gay scene in south park. not only has les bos been a staple dyke bar in the area, but the community is fairly tight knit and present as well - everyone’s itching to be an ally as colorado careens more and more towards blue on the political map. but part of the problem, craig thinks, is that familiarity. he can’t go out on the town for some thoughtless fun if everywhere he goes, there’s a chance he’ll run into someone he knows - or even worse, his ex boyfriend.

so what’s a guy supposed to do when he really wants to get out of his mind, craving a night of meaningless fun? he doesn’t wanna be recognized. he doesn’t wanna be craig. he wants to be just another body, with roaming hands on thrusting hips and kisses pressed to bared necks.

craig, personally, drives to denver. it’s more of a diversified scene, for one thing, and the chances of running into someone he knows is slim. in fact, the few times he has recognized people in the denver pits, it’s actually been kind of fun - they usually share a nod and a smile, but they always stop at ‘hey, i know you’ and give each other space, because they know they’re both out in a different city’s scene for the same reason: to get away.

tonight, craig got sent home early from his shift at the video store. he’s got tomorrow off too. without any plans, he impulsively went home long enough to change. his outfit of choice for the evening is a mesh turtleneck underneath a blue leather jacket, and black skinny jeans tucked into doc martens that are a perfect match to the colour of his jacket. he grabs a faded beanie last minute and shoves it down to his eyebrows on the way out - to tame the unruly hair he hasn’t bothered to get cut in a while. then he’s on his way, preemptively playing music with bass so loud he can feel it in his chest, singing along to get himself hyped up.

it’s going to be a good night, he thinks, hoping that if he thinks it then it’ll be true. he struggles to be anything but pessimistic - but he’s been working on that, and this is how. it’s not much, and it’s a little embarrassing. it’s a start, though - he keeps telling himself that’s all that matters.

he pays for parking and then the cover charge. he slips inside the dark folds of the club, and he lets himself disappear.

he didn’t know there would be a drag show tonight - he’s never had the time off to actually come to one, so it’s his first time experiencing anything like this in real life. he’s not well versed in the world of drag, it’s not something he knows much about and he’s never bothered to look deeper than occasionally catching drag race when it’s live on television, but he’s quickly learning that it’s not only fun as hell, but it’s dirty and it’s loud and the crowd is going absolutely crazy for this blonde princess in purple.

she’s beautiful, is his first thought - and he feels his heart surge with dizzying confusion, an attraction he doesn’t know how to process, when she (he?) targets him during her (his??) performance. again, he’s reminded of the fact he’s not versed in this shit at all. he doesn’t even know how to refer to ‘princess phallix’ and he definitely doesn’t know why his heart is beating so hard over a guy dressed like a girl when he definitely is only attracted to the guy aspect in all this. yeah, lots of awakenings happening right now. he’s so distracted by everything, he doesn’t even realize she’s walked away until it’s over with.

craig gets through the rest of the show but he’s still trying to tame his breathing by the end of it. he notices the queens have come back into the crowd and that blonde princess catches his eye again. he smirks when he notices that he’s being stared at in return.

he finishes his drink and leaves the empty glass at the bar, kicking off the stool and crossing the crowd to her - to him. now that he’s closer, he can definitely see through the illusion of his makeup, the slight peek of blonde hair under the synthetic wig.

“hey,” he says, reaching not for a handshake but to pull the other man in by the waist. “i liked the show. that mouth of yours is pretty talented. got pretty familiar with it, y’know, ‘cause of all the tongue action you gave me.” he laughs a little, not quite nervous but something close to it. “can i buy you a drink?”

[sugarpowder]

down by the bay.

with stan ( @hyuckarps )

maybe he can ask when they are both drunker.

so for now, he settles on more appropriate questions. ones that aren’t specific or prying too deep, and instead just wondering on the surface of things. “why did you guys break up… i mean was it bad? how serious even were you guys? i can’t even imagine dating tweek.”

it’s interesting, hearing stan mention his own ex - he doesn’t feel like he hears anyone talk about wendyl anymore, now that his coming out as trans is a distant memory, less of a shock and more of a casual fact. it’s also interesting the way stan links their breakups, just like that - another tender reminder that they aren’t so different after all. only this time, it’s stan making the connection between them.

he can tell two things from the way stan looks at him. the first thing is something that craig already knew, something that he expected. the second thing is something that completely takes him by surprise, and makes him a little afraid.

one. stan is totally, totally plastered right now.

two. stan wants to kiss him. he doesn’t know what exactly about stan’s expression gives it away - is it because stan’s lips involuntarily purse together  when their eyes meet? almost like he’s anticipating something? or is it because he has that overly honest look to him, like he wants to look like he has nothing to hide - which of course means he’s hiding a lot. 

like craig does with most things, he keeps that little realization to himself. he takes a swig from his beer and pointedly ignores the way stan’s gaze lingers on him. once he’s finished the bottle off, he chucks the glass. it curves in a stable arch and satisfyingly shatters against some rocks that are somewhere between nearby and distant. it’s cathartic, hearing it break as he reminiscences over tweek. there’s an idiom for all this, something about first loves and heartbreak, that he frustratingly cannot remember in its entirety right now.

“we were as serious as kids could be,” craig says. “or we tried to be. we knew we were gay before anybody else came out, so it only made sense we tried dating each other. right? and it was fun, when we were younger. shit didn’t really matter back then. we could read comics or watch cartoons and just... be happy. we didn’t have to have deep conversations, or think about the future. we could just be.”

he’s glossing over a lot of the details - he doesn’t feel comfortable with those details, probably never will be, and he definitely never wants to hear them laid out back to back, all of the mistakes that he still goes over in his head at night that keeps him from catching z’s. his parents fighting all the time didn’t exactly give him the best groundwork for figuring out relationships, and his hotheaded tendencies kept him from being able to learn from actively being in one. but stan doesn’t need to know all of that, his self hatred or his remorse.

stan asked if it was bad - yeah, it was bad. he asked how serious they were - the answer was very. and he said he couldn’t imagine dating tweek. sometimes, craig couldn’t imagine dating anyone else.

but he doesn’t say any of that.

what he does say is, “well... playground love in primary school is totally fucking different from high school sweethearts territory, not that i need to tell you about that. i think tweek and i both realized early on how different we were from each other, but we thought what we had in common would be enough to keep things good. he’s got bad anxiety, i’ve got bad anger issues. think you can piece together the rest, marsh? i couldn’t do anything without making him feel like shit, and he kept pissing me off. we fought over everything. eventually we ended things. he said he only stayed with me for so long because he was scared of what i would do if he broke up with me sooner. so, yeah. that’s how it went.”

[sugarpowder]

a little bit of privacy.

with john ( @runawayfairie )

         “shit shit shit, fuck… oh fuck, dude come here, get- IN THERE!! ah- oh jeez, fuck-” he let out his curses with every movie and bag of chips he grabbed at, yelling at one soda that decided to be an asshole and roll away from him. he realized way too late that he completely gave himself away and he scrambled to his feet and absconded to his own room, slamming the door behind him.           “jeez nice going you idiot.. he’s gonna think you’re a peeping tom or some other kind of pervert.. perfect.. just perfect…”

suddenly, his roommate is disregarding the sock - intruder alert! intruder alert! - and the next thing he knows, there’s a plastic bag mishap with the groceries in john’s arms. everything goes spilling everywhere, he barely has time to process what’s going on and he definitely doesn’t have enough time to offer his help with any of the mess. by the time dave blinks, john’s already scooped his stuff back into their respective bags and bolted to his bedroom.

he heard how absolutely panicked his roommate was about the whole thing, and now he feels like a total asshole. he can’t just go back to stacking cans of spaghetti-o like nothing happened - no, no. he owed john an explanation for the assholery.

adjusting the shades on his face, dave steels himself for the awkward and embarrassing conversation he’s definitely about to have. he knocks lightly on john’s bedroom door before going ahead and entering - he figures john’s going to tell him to come in anyway, so what’s the point of waiting for that courtesy when the sock has just been blatantly disregarded? my god, what if he really had been doing the dirty? john had been inviting himself to see some freak shit if that were the case, thank the based god dave was just being a weirdo about his privacy and not ‘getting his rocks off’ or whatever the kids were calling it these days.

so there dave is, walking in on his roommate after his roommate’s just walked in on him. 

“hey, man,” dave says by way of greeting. before john can say anything, he launches into a rambling tangent - he knows he’s building up to say sorry, but he can’t seem to ever say things simply. “i’m decent, dude, you don’t have to keep your eyes closed or whatever it is you’re doing with your face there. yeah, you can just relax. look, i owe you an apology, and probably eight different explanations for the shit you saw back there. i swear it’s not anything weird. well, it’s weird, but not weird in the way you think.”

goddammit, man. why can’t i ever say ‘sorry’ and shut the hell up? he knows he’s definitely making things worse but he just... keeps... talking.

“i’m not canoodling any cans of noodles, alright. i wouldn’t disrespect the chef like that. boyardee isn’t getting his raviolis stuffed in our living room, i can promise you that. you probably weren’t even thinking that, and now you are going to think about that - look, just don’t think. stop thinking whatever it is you’re thinking, and whatever you might think about, don’t even do that. do we have a deal?”

er, yeah. he should have stopped while he was ahead. too late now, though - he’s word vomited all over their friendship. might as well talk to the RAs about switching dorms now, he knows there’s not a chance in hell john will actually want to keep rooming with such a weirdo.

[sugarpowder]

down by the bay.

with stan ( @hyuckarps )

stan looks between the bottle and craig’s cute pink nose, sighing and falling back onto the cold ground. “yeah i want another one.”

and then, without missing a beat, “craig, what happened with you and tweek.” he asks, voice casual.

when stan looks over, meets his eyes, craig is suddenly swelling with that same sensation he got staring into the shimmering depths of stark’s pond - like he’s stumbled upon a reflection so perfect, there’s a whole ‘nother world in there somewhere. that’s how he feels about stan in this moment, in this snapshot of broken youth which they both so vividly share. like they are merely reflections of one another, reflections that run so deep they open up into something... else. 

craig squeezes his eyes shut. he doesn’t really feel like looking into that else just yet. 

his eyes are still shut when stan answers him, and when he hears what stan actually has to say about their time together, all he can manage to say is, “you’re kidding.” 

he knows there’s gotta be something really wrong with stan if he’s seriously saying craig is more fun than... literally anything. craig and fun don’t go together. never have, never will. 

in fact, craig prides himself on being boring in south park, seeing as it’s one of the most eventful hick towns known to mankind. it’s quite the accomplishment to be mundane amidst the spectacular, or quaint among the chaos - at least, that’s what craig thinks about it. 

so there’s no way stan could seriously be calling him fun unless he had a recent brain injury or he’s just that depressed. both were equally possible, though - see above, most eventful hick town(s).

craig opens his eyes again, the edges of his vision pulsing slightly with his intoxication. he pulls himself to a stand with a grunt, goes and gets stan his second beer, then brings it back. he cracks it open for him. steals a sip off the top, just to be a piece of shit. hands it over.

he’s about to sit back down when stan strikes him with that next question, and the mention of his ex boyfriend makes his knees go weak and his legs go out from under him all together. he slumps down in the frosted patch of dead grass a lot less gracefully than he had a bit ago - all the wind’s left him. he rubs a hand over his face, catching on the barely-there stubble gathering at his chin.

“i haven’t gotten into it with anyone before,” he says, because it’s the truth. “nobody really likes hearing about couples when they’re together, and they tolerate hearing about couples when they split. there’s a honeymoon period for breakups, you know. when everyone excuses the ice cream and sweatpants and feels sorry for you. but after a while, if you’re still hung up on the whole thing, people just get tired of it all and stop asking about you. i skipped my own breakup honeymoon, and by the time i realized i’d fucked up and felt bad, i missed my window. so i just... never talked about it. i’ll kill you if you tell anyone else what i tell you tonight. got it?”

he’s able to finally get the intonation of a question right on the very tail-end of his ending phrase - and it paints the whole rant in a completely different light. it sounds like he’s setting himself up to get really vulnerable with stan. craig doesn’t even know if that’s possible, but now the build up is there - and he’s oddly struck with the thought that he doesn’t want to disappoint a guy like stan. stan’s always been in touch with his feelings, what’s he going to think when craig really, really isn’t?

[sugarpowder]

down by the bay.

with stan ( @hyuckarps )

the water is still and dark, its unwavering surface providing a perfect image of the constellations flipped upside down - it's the sort of thing that prods at one's imagination, prompting thoughts of being able to walk across it, or like if you happened to fall in, you would be swallowed up into a different universe where everything that's rightside up is now upside down and vice versa...

or maybe that's the alcohol talking, craig thinks. he's already burned through two bottles of lite, working on a third and there's plenty more where that came from in the back of his dad's - now his, as he recently inherited it on his sixteenth birthday - old, red flatbed truck. he stands up and feels everything go, like... whoosh. like everything below his hips is either about to give out or doesn't even exist anymore. he staggers a bit as he steps closer to the water's edge, bends down to scoop a flat rock from the cold shore, and throws it - aiming for the centre of stark's pond.

the reflected world inside shatters as the surface ripples and ripples and ripples. the rock sinks with a solid sploosh.

craig turns back with a slightly proud smile - he finds a strange sort of pleasure from having disrupted something so peaceful - and he fixes that hairline fracture of a smile on his drinking buddy for the night: stan. as in, yes that's right, stan marsh.

he stumbles back over to where the other guy is sprawled under the sparse trees around stark's pond and takes a seat - although it's really more of an almost falling down sorta motion, he catches himself with the flat of his palm on the way down and turns it into a smoother landing than what should've been possible in his tipsy stupor.

"so," he says in his typical nasal tone. "stan. what are you doing, hanging out with the local reject. don't you have friends." they're all supposed to be questions, but they come out flatter than earth.

he hits the bottle in hand again, close to finishing it off. he scrunches his nose at the end of the swallow, then gives a loud snuffle against the cold - his nose is going pink with the brisk night air. he notices stan's finished with his own, and he juts at it with his chin.

"you want another one of those." again, it's supposed to be a question - but because of his intonation, it sounds like more of an order, like stan doesn't really have a choice in the matter when it comes to what he wants tonight.