#scriptember

[abalonetea]

Scriptember Day Fifteen - snowstorm

Prompt - Snowstorm Characters – Tweek/Stan Word Count – 525

Notes – hmmmm something a little bit darker this time around, but that often seems to be the case when I pair these two boys together. I need to write for them more often but??? Never seem to find the time, for some reason.

WARNINGS – hallucinations, unnamed mental illness

  There are eyes outside the window.   Tweek can’t look away, even though he hates them. He curls tighter around himself, fingers digging into the fabric of his baggy gray sweatpants. They drift through the night sky, trying to pass as falling snow. Light from the nearby street lamp catches on them, makes them turn into something brighter, more daunting, and he is suddenly hit with the terrifying thought – what if they can see me?

  There are eyes outside the window.   They are still watching when the door to Tweek’s bedroom opens, hinges giving an ominous creak. Tweek presses himself back against the wall that much harder, sharp shoulders hitting the wood until it hurts.   “Hey.” Stan gives him a grin, almost sheepish. “You didn’t show up at my house, so I figured we were just doing the movie here.”   “Movie?” Tweek’s gaze is drawn back to the window. For a moment, the eyes are gone. It’s starting to snow harder, now, and the weatherman said that people should worry about waking up to find themselves snowed in the next morning.   Stan nods, producing two red box movies from his bag. The tips of his fingers are red. “You, uh, want to wait and watch it later?”   Tweek nods. “Ngh – yeah, I guess. Sorry. Gah, I just – “   “It’s fine,” says Stan. And then, “do you care if I, you know, sit with you?”   Tweek shakes his head. A moment later and they are both curled up under the blanket, staring out the window and watching for the eyes.

  There are eyes outside the window.   Tweek presses his cheek against Stan’s shoulder, hard. They lost power almost ten minutes ago, and now Tweek can’t stop looking outside. There is a veritable snowstorm raging on the other side of the glass panes. The eyes blink into existence like stars finally coming out after a cloudy day, and Tweek holds Stan’s hand so hard that it makes his knuckles hurt.   Words never come easy for Stan and this is no exception; he wraps his free arm around Tweek’s shoulders, and if Tweek were watching him, he would see Stan’s lips tug into these thin, thin lines.   “Hey,” says Stan, eventually. The sound of his voice is startling. “You’re okay.”   An eye closes with each word.   Tweek can almost feel them drifting away from the house, even as the snow piles up higher. “I think they’re watching us, man.”   “Okay.” Stan squeezes Tweek’s hand back, gentle but firm. “But you’re still okay, Tweek. The lights will be back on soon and, uh, in the mean-time…I mean, it’s dark in here. Nothing can see in your room, okay?”   “Okay,” echoes Tweek, even though he doesn’t really believe it.   Darkness doesn’t usually dissuade the eyes.   But, then again, they aren’t often around if Tweek’s alone, either.

[abalonetea]

Scriptember Day Four - family

Prompt – Family Characters – timmy/jimmy Word Count - 473

Notes – this is for my good pal @toydrill! I hope she’s having a wonderful season so far and that everything is going good for her!

  “Okay, Tim-Tim! I f-f-found it!” Jimmy leans heavily on one crutch, pulls the blue glass bowl out of the fridge. He’s half-afraid of dropping it, but it’s different dropping something at the Burch house than his own, and the bowl makes it to the counter without incidence, anyway.   Timmy grins, claps his hands together. He’s already gotten the spoons out. The note Cathy left had instructions on how to heat it up in the oven, and Erin left a note about how long to put it in the microwave.   Instead, Jimmy scoops them each out a healthy portion of casserole onto their respective paper plates and they sit in the living room while they eat.

  Family is relative.   That’s something Jimmy learnt when he was very young.   The concept is something that can change as time passes, as new people are introduced, as new events come to pass. For Jimmy, family is a mother that drinks too much and a father that talks too little; family is always answering phone calls at three in the morning and changing plans when one person can’t come along.   Family is the door opening up at quarter to midnight and Timmy’s parents coming inside, arms piled full of plastic bags. Erin juggles with closing the door behind them, says, “you boys stay right there, now. We’re just going to put some of these in the closet – “   “Erin,” scolds Cathy, because she’s never forgiven Timmy, Token, and Jimmy for peeking at the Christmas gifts early when they were twelve.   “Not in the closet,” amends Erin. He adjusts his grip on the bags. “Somewhere. And then pizza.”

  The pizza is a little burnt around the edges, but Jimmy kind of likes it best that way.   They never have frozen pizza at his house. Jimmy’s mother always cooks, and they always sit at the table for dinner.   It’s stiff, and it makes his back hurt.   He would much rather eat like this, stretched out on the couch next to Timmy; one bright sock covered foot pressed up against Timmy’s thigh.   The little red light dances over the television screen. Jimmy looks over just in time to watch the building blow up. “W-w-wow! The effects are r-really gr-great on this!”   Timmy nods in agreement.   “D-d-do you think we’ll g-get th-through the whole th-thing buh-before your mom comes out?”   Timmy shrugs, pauses, and then shakes his head.   “Y-yeah, I didn’t th-think so.” Jimmy grins, takes another too large bite of the pizza. He taps his foot against Timmy’s thigh again. “D-d-do you j-just want to p-put on her show?”   Another explosion rocks the television. Timmy sighs, but he nods, too.

[abalonetea]

Scriptember Day Five - ornament

Prompt – Ornament Characters – Butters/Kenny Word Count – 470

Notes – for the lovely @spellboundseas, who I don’t cater to with my writing nearly enough!

  “It looks great,” says Kenny, rocking back onto his heels. It’s a rare occasion that he goes over to the Stotch resident; usually, they hang out down at Sticky Buns or at Kenny’s house, or they hole up in the abandoned car yard if the weather allows.   The house is too clean and the air inside of it too dirty. It reeks of Stephen’s cigarettes, and the fake pine aerosol that Linda keeps spraying.   Butters smiles. He presses his pink sweater tighter against his chest. “I wish it had more color on it. They have some real pretty ornaments down at J-Mart, but my mom only likes puttin’ these ones up. She says it looks better if everything matches.”   Silver and white bulbs hang off the fake pine branches, occasionally separated by the rare blue icicle. It doesn’t look like any of them are actually made out of glass. Kenny’s pretty sure that they came from the corner store during their Christmas sale two years ago.   “Still looks nice,” says Kenny. And then, because the holidays have always been an oddly touchy subject with Butters, he adds, “you ready to go catch that movie?”   Butters eyes are looking a little bit misty, so leaving’s probably a good choice.

  It’s two days before Christmas when Kenny calls Butters over. He meets Butters at the front door, grinning just wide as can be. The tip of his tongue is pressed between the gap in his teeth. “Hey there, buttercup!”   “Well, hey, Kenny.” Butters smooths out the legs of his pants like he’s trying to get the wrinkles out of a skirt. “What did you need me over here for? Y’sounded like you were in a real hurry.”   “Yeah! I want to show you something!” Kenny grabs Butters by the wrist and drags him down the narrow hallway, into his room. Most of the trash has been picked up for the occasion, but there’s a half-empty beer can sitting next to the mattress. “Look!” Kenny jabs his finger at the dust streaked window. “How’s that for a tree?”   It’s actually nothing fancy.   The tree cost ten dollars at the corner store, and it’s only around two foot tall. Bright pink, blue, and gold plastic ornaments dangle off of the plastic branches. Slightly stained ribbon is wrapped around the top in lieu of a star and Kenny’s already thinking that he should have at least forked out the cash for new ribbon when Butters all but tackles him, arms wrapping around Kenny’s neck in a tight hug.   Butters breath hitches. The words sound wet and raw and honest. “It’s beautiful, Kenny. I really…I think that might be the best tree I’ve seen yet.”

[abalonetea]

Scriptember Day Nine - carols

Prompt – Carols Characters – Kenny/Kyle Word Count – 715 (I got carried away)

Notes - kyle acts really dismissive but i think he's probably pretty into the holidays. gets all that shitty music on his phone and listens to it while he's doing homework or messing around on the computer

(also this song as catchy as fuck sue me)

  The computer chair creaks. Kyle's heels bump against the floor, the inside of the desk. He only ever sits at the actual desk top when he's working on basic programming jobs; setting up websites and running through other projects that Kenny only barely understands. Every time Kenny glances up at the screen there are at least three new windows up.   He's humming, but the tune isn't something that Kenny recognizes. The bright green cord to his headphones wrap around his neck, vanish over the curve of his shoulder. When he speaks, it's in a too loud voice. "Give me like five more minutes, Kenny. I'm almost done."   "Yeah, yeah, yeah. That's what you keep saying, man, but then you never actually shut it off." Kenny glances back down at the borrowed phone. He's flipping through the apps, most of them just recently downloaded.   Kyle goes through games like most people go through socks. He swaps them out every couple of days, and it's still up for debate whether he finishes them that quickly, or he just doesn't have the patience to get through them. Whatever the case, it means plenty of entertainment on Kenny's end.    His own phone has an older IOS and it can't handle most of the new apps. Kenny pulls up one of the many off-spins of jewel. There are kittens rolling across the screen. He needs to match them up, or they can't get out of the burning building.   "This game is fucked up." Kenny curls his legs up, heels knocking against each other. His chin digs into the mattress. "Every time you lose, another cat dies. It's like some twisted infomercial."   There's no answer. Kyle can't hear anything through his head phones. The chair creaks again, though, just this small little twist. It's a nervous habit, the only sign that Kyle really is almost finished working.   He always gets antsy when he's about to finish something up and send it back in.   He doesn't always pop the jack of the head phones out of the computer, though, but that's exactly what happens. There's suddenly a blast of music - and is that a pan flute? Kenny's head snaps up, fingers sliding haphazardly across the cellphone screen.   No, it's not a pan flute band. The base tune is the same, but Kenny thinks that it might actually be some sort of bizarre holiday song. i am a latke i am a latke i am waiting for hanukkah to come i am a latke i am a latke i am waiting for hanukkah to come i am sitting in the blender i am slowly getting brown i've made friends with the onions and the celery while the chef is scouting oil out in town   It doesn't look like Kyle realizes the headphones have come out. He's still humming along with it, finger tapping against the side of the mouse. Small, green print scrolls across a black box on the screen. It looks like some sort of coding, but it's hard to focus on that when Kyle is literally humming along with a song about a lonely potato.   And - he seems really into it, too. Kyle's chair creaks again. The end of the head phone cord gets tangled up in the chair. Kenny can barely contain his snort, can't stop himself from sitting up and staring at the back of Kyle's head. He's not wearing his ushanka, and the fact that all those lovely red curls are on display just makes it even funnier.   "Almost done," says Kyle, in that too loud voice. "Just a few more things."   "Hey, no rush. I'm having a great time here. Just hanging out, listening to sad potatoes sing about their woes."   "Don't be a dick, man."   Kenny can actually count the seconds between that last word and the moment when Kyle realizes that the head phones aren't in anymore. The other boy curses, loudly; one foot smacks against the inside of the desk when he spins around, chair creaking in protest at the sudden twist.   He scrabbles at the headphones, reeling the loose cord up. "Fuck. It's just a - you're missing the point. It's not about a sad potato!"   Lips twist up into a grin. Kenny's tongue presses against the gap between his teeth. "It sounds like it's about a sad potato.”

[abalonetea]

hey, so, if anyone is interested in it, i can make them a set of scriptember prompts for $2! each list will be unique to the buyer! they can be used for writing or art, and if the outcome is tagged as #scriptember i'll reblog it onto my patreon blog - coffeeandcreamdrabbles - to help spread their name around c:

[abalonetea]

Scriptember Day Twelve - snowman

Prompt – snowman Characters – clyde/stan Word Count – 499

Notes – this is for my awesome friend, @sawyer-is-unisex! It takes place in our dog walker au, which I don’t explore nearly often enough! Full disclosure – I’ve never seen snow or built a snowman, so I’m pulling all of this stuff right out of my ass, haha. Hopefully this turned out okay!

  “Come on, Clyde. It’s cold and Sparky’s done. Can we go back inside?” Stan wraps his arms tighter around himself, shuffles his feet a few times. It’s been snowing all week. A thick layer of white coats the ground, a thinner one forming on the breadth of Stan’s shoulders.   Clyde rolls his eyes. “Don’t be such a spoil sport. It’s not that cold out.”   “Says the guy in the jacket.”   “You knew we were coming outside! I don’t know why you didn’t dress warmer, buddy.”   Stan scowls at his feet. It might not have been his best choice, but he honestly hadn’t been planning on being out here for more than a few minutes, just long enough for Sparky to use the bathroom and go back inside.   His sweater isn’t near warm enough for this, and his gloves are still lying on the kitchen counter. Stan grumbles, “well, I didn’t. So, let’s just…take them and go back inside.”   “Sebastian’s not ready yet. Besides! I want to finish making this snowman!” Clyde pats the base of the snowman a few times, smoothing it out. “You should come help.”   Stan holds his hands up, wiggling his red-tipped fingers. “No gloves.”   “You can borrow one of mine.” Clyde tugs off his left glove, offers it out to Stan. He grins, all white teeth and dimples, cheeks red from the wind and Stan finds that he can’t really say no.

 The snowman doesn’t look very good. They’re both only working with one hand and the dogs aren’t helping, jumping up and bumping against the snowman, digging their paws into that white slush. Clyde takes off his scarf and wraps it around the snowman, between the middle ball and the top ball. “There! He looks great!”  Stan laughs, reaching out to adjust one of the stick arms. It’s already falling out of the snowman’s torso. “If you say so.”   “We should bring a leash out next time,” announces Clyde, stepping back and giving the snowman a critical look-over.   Stan asks, “and…why do we need a leash?”     “For the dog, duh.” Clyde pats his thigh and Sebastian comes trotting over, trailed by Sparky. “Next time we come out, we can make a snowdog, and give the snowman a leash. That’ll be cute, right? It’ll look just like us!”   “Man, I haven’t made something like that in years.” Stan shoves his non-gloved hand into his jacket pocket. “It’s going to look like shit.”   Clyde hooks their gloved hands together. “It doesn’t have to look good, Stan. It’s about having fun, duh. Besides, you’ve got to be blind to look at that guy and not think that it looks great!”

[abalonetea]

Scriptember Day Ten - frost

Prompt - Frost Characters – Nichole/Wendy Word Count – 478

Notes – hurm look at me write for my lovely lady girls. u.u

  “Hey. What are you doing up?”   Nichole jumps, spins around. Her pale pink night gown swishes around her legs. “Sorry!”   “It’s fine?” Wendy yawns, shuffles into the living room. Her baggy gray sweat pants are hanging low on her hips, shirt sliding down on one shoulder. “You should’ve woken me up. I’d have come out here with you, if you were having a hard time sleeping.”   Nichole blushes, fingers curling tighter around the camera. The strap is biting into the back of her neck in a way that’s comfortable and familiar. “You and Bebe were up late –“   “I went to bed, like, five minutes after you. She stayed up talking to Heidi.”   “ – and I wasn’t up for any bad reason, or anything. I had to pee and then I saw the frost on the window and I just really wanted to take a few pictures. This is the first frost of the year, and you have a really nice looking yard, so…” Nichole shrugs, shoulders bunching up around her ears.   The frost is clinging to the edges of the window, creating a natural white frame. There’s fog on the inside of the glass pane, catching and warping the light from the lamp that Nichole turned on earlier. Wendy walks over, leans up against the sill. “You want to see something that’s really cool looking?”   Before Nichole has a chance to answer, Wendy presses her finger against glass, draws a large heart in the center of the fog. She writes her name inside of it and then, under that, she writes Nichole’s name.   Nichole’s face is burning. She ducks her head down, just a little, but her hair is pulled back and there’s no mane of curls to hide behind.   “See? That’s a way better picture.” Wendy grabs at Nichole’s wrist, tugging until they’re both standing in front of the window.   Flustered, Nichole snaps a messy, off-center picture of the window. “Yeah, it is. But, uh – you should come here.”   Wendy wraps an arm around Nichole’s waist. She rests her head on Nichole’s shoulder when the camera gets held out, turned around backwards. The flash goes off once – twice – three times before Nichole lowers it.   The fog is starting to fill the lines of the heart back up. Outside, it’s starting to snow. Wendy doesn’t let go of her grip on Nichole’s waist. “You want a cup of cocoa? I think I have a couple of packets in the cabinet.”   Nichole nods. “Sure. I can put popcorn in, if you’re going to stay up?”   “We’ll watch a movie,” says Wendy, agreeably. She presses a quick kiss against Nichole’s cheek before pulling away, heading towards the kitchen.   Nichole turns off the flash and takes a picture as Wendy goes.

[abalonetea]

Scriptember Day Fourteen - deer

Prompt – deer Characters – Heidi/Wendy Word Count – 458

Notes – nnnnn some more gay girls

  Night of Lights is almost over when Heidi spots it.   She’s weighed down with a bag full of post cards, key chains, and other little things that were picked up earlier in the day, back when the shops are open and the lights weren’t yet turned on. Now, the only stands available are selling deep fried foods or over-priced tickets for festival style games.   And the one across the has the perfect prize.  Heidi tightens her grip on Wendy’s hand. “Okay, so, I know that we were supposed to be heading towards the car but can we make one last stop?”   Wendy has a butterfly painted on one cheek, a rainbow on the other. There’s glitter streaked under one eye. “Sure, Heidi. What did you want to see?”   Grinning, Heidi tugs Wendy through the bustling crowd, over to the line of vendors on the opposite side of the street. She picks out a booth with bright red and green lights strung up around it. The woman in charge is wearing an ill-fitting elf costume.   She says, “I ho-ho-hope you’re having a holly jolly night. Do you want one ball or two?”   “One ball,” chirps Heidi.   Two little white ping pong balls are deposited on the counter. Wendy eyes them warily. “I’m pretty sure that most of these games are rigged, Heidi.”   “They aren’t rigged, Wendy!” Heidi counts out four dollars and hands them over to the woman, who steps out of the way. A pyramid of red solo cups have been set up on the counter on the opposite side of the booth. “It just takes a lot of practice and, you know, aim!”   When Heidi focuses on anything, she has the bad habit of wrinkling her nose up. She does her best to line up the ball, careful about how hard she throws it. The white plastic makes contact with the second row of cups. They shake, wobble, and then topple completely to the ground.   The second pyramid shares the same fate. The woman in the elf costume does her due diligence with setting them back up and then asks, “do you know what prize you want?”   “The deer!” Heidi jabs her finger in the direction of the large plush deer. “That one, please.”  “Wow! You did really great, Heidi. And that deer is adorable!”   “Isn’t it? I saw it and just knew that I had to get it!”   “I love deer,” says Wendy. She tucks a strand of hair behind one ear. “I like the eyes on that one.”   The plushie is barely in Heidi’s hands before she turns around, offering it out to Wendy. “I know. That’s why I won it for you!”