poke ay mans, poke ay mans, poke ay mans.

Subject: poke ay mans, poke ay mans, poke ay mans. Mon Nov 30, 2009 10:04 am

testing testing uno dos tresssssssss

Last edited by TheTweek on Wed Jan 20, 2010 5:01 am; edited 13 times in total

• i'm bored too much, i need too much •
• i think too much, throw fits too much •
★☆ • • • • • к y ℓ є • • • • • ☆★
• i'm free too much, i'm pissed too much •
• i sleep too much, i step too often •

A stare of the condescending variety was the only thing that Kyle could offer through his boyfriend's spiel, and he could feel the heat in his body raising with every compliment more out of self-conscious embarrassment than anything else. Sliding their bodies against eachother in the bath, he smiled a bit and pressed his lips to the blond's temple.

"You're not damaged goods. Besides, scars are sexy..." he leaned his head down slowly, sliding his tongue over one of the surface marks across the blond's shoulder as he slid his hips further up Kenny's lap until their hips pressed together.

"Don't even try to fight me Kenny, I'm just a scrawny little jew. You're a damn sexy down-in-the-mud redneck..." a smirk crawled onto his lips slowly as he ran his thumbs across a few ribs, finding the middlest McCormick's stomach instead beneath the surface of the bath water.

"Your eye can be fixed, don't worry. Can't you just get Damien to take care of it next time you're in hell?" he pointed out, letting his mind return to its familiar distracted haze that he rarely got outside of the safe confinements of his own bedroom, and late at night. But with Kenny sprawled out under him that was getting difficult and he lowered himself a bit more, biting his lip uncomfortably.

"No one in this town has brains, they just think I'm a ginger Jew and you're a... a slut anyway," he added, fidgeting in Kenny's lap and pressing his mouth to his lover's throat hungrily. "But you know that we're more deep than stupid shit like that..."

Last edited by TheTweek on Tue Dec 22, 2009 6:11 am; edited 11 times in total

xxxxxx

poke ay mans, poke ay mans, poke ay mans. Tegs_dipppawban

【 ρ н ι ℓ ℓ ι ρxxx` ρ ι ρ `xxxρ ι я я u ρ 】 willtearusdoot

Pip looked on with his usual chipper expression and seemed almost amused by his mention of hating him. Pip knew now, and there was no escaping it at all; it made the blond roll on his heels happily, dismissing all of the recently fearful thoughts from his head as he took in the idea of being cared for. It was a nice thought. Something he hadn't really considered since his black smith friend and practical father back in Europe.

Sure, his adoptive families had been nice, but this was a whole different level. In terms of the blacksmith and his adoptive parents, the factor had been more of a parental appreciation. This was an acceptance of love - it was new and shiny. Or at least, this was how Pip saw it. Maybe he was wrong.

His expression fell slightly, however, at Damien's mention of his loss of appetite. Pip reached down then with a stern expression, lifting the mug up and thrusting it into Damien's hands with a long look.

"Don't give me that, Ducky. Drink up. You're going to kill the baby," he tutted, before resting his hands at his sides.

Pip paused, looking at Damien for a long period of time. There was something strange... he stared continually at Damien before cupping his cheeks, and making the connection. The demon boy's eyes weren't alight anymore. Instead they held a rusty hue, something of a mix between red and brown that filled the blond with intrigue as he tilted his head back and forth curiously, unable to tear his eyes away.

"How pretty."

The blue eyes of the blond closed with his smile before snapping them back open again, eyes a bit dull. He shook himself out before turning, touching Damien's arm briefly and then wandering to bed, crawling into the covers and curling on his side quietly. This was getting to him, and he knew it. But he was scared; terrified. The fact that classmates that he'd known and at least on some level trusted had done this to him was just... he shook his head, trying to wipe the picture of Craig's twisted grin out of his head... and poor Stan... and god damn, Clyde... who he'd actually thought something okay of just a few nights earlier.

The Brit curled his face into his palms, trying to hold back tears and managing to shove them down with a few anxious breaths. Nibbling his lower lip, he shut his eyes, just trying to let his worry pass. They couldn't get him here, right? Damien was here to watch him, right? And Damien had established that Stan would be okay...

He was already starting to dose... he blinked his eyes open and licked his lips, staring quietly at the wall and rustling his fingers back through his hair as he sucked deeper under the covers.

Things would be okay. They'd be alright, just fine.

They always were, right? ... They had to be.

Last edited by TheTweek on Wed Dec 02, 2009 3:02 am; edited 1 time in total

「「 c н я ι s т σ ρ н єxxx xxxт н єxxм σ ℓ є 」」 xxx

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Subject: Re: poke ay mans, poke ay mans, poke ay mans. Mon Nov 30, 2009 10:23 am

T H E xx B R O F L O V S K I xx B R O T H E R S
T H E xx B R O F L O V S K I xx B R O T H E R S
★ ☆ ★
T H E xx B R O F L O V S K I xx B R O T H E R S

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxK Y L E xx A N D xx I K E .

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxK Y L E xx A N D xx I K E .

Subject: Re: poke ay mans, poke ay mans, poke ay mans. Mon Nov 30, 2009 10:31 am

xxxxx✡ Ⓚⓨⓛⓔ ⓑⓡⓞⓕⓛⓞⓥⓢⓚⓘ ✡

☆═━┈┈━═☆
ɨ ɦɑʈɛ ɛʋɛʀʏʈɦɨɴɡ ɑɓouʈ ʏou
ωɦʏ ɗo ɨ ℓoʋɛ ʏou?
ɨ ɦ-ɑ-ʈ-ɛ ɛʋɛʀʏʈɦɨɴɡ ɑɓouʈ ʏou
ωɦʏ ɗo ɨ ~~ℓoʋɛ~~ ʏou?

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xxxxxxɨ ɑɱ ɴoʈ ɑ ωɦoʀɛ
ɨ ɑɱ ɴoʈ ɑ ωɦoʀɛ
ɨ ɑɱ ɴoʈ ɑ ωɦoʀɛxxxxxx
ɓuʈ ɨ ℓɨκɛ ʈo ɗo ɨʈ
☆═━┈┈━═☆

卐 ⒠⒭⒤⒞ ⒞⒜⒭⒯⒨⒜⒩ 卐xxxxx

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Kyle was feeling better. Trying to feel better... but everything still weighed on his mood despite his persistent smile, and his eyes darted about the street as he tried to get a hold of himself. He held hands tightly with Kenny even though his palms still burned from their romance with the pavement hours earlier, and he didn't let go until they got to the front door, where he watched Kenny walk into the house, feeling an undisputed uncertainty linger in him as he chose to remain on the front porch opposed to entering to face Kenny's dad if he was awake.

Ike came storming out of the door but Kyle didn't even get a chance to ask what the fuck was going on before the kid was gone, storming over the hillside as Kyle shouted his name after him. Giving up, he turned his back to the house as he faced the world in silence on the porch to shield his lighter as he lit up a cigarette. On the first exhale, it dropped from his fingers as noise filled the air, and he stared forward blankly, his entire body numb. Blood poured from his lips on the first attempt at a gasp of breath as he stared at the red spray now splattered all over Kenny's porch, and his vision reeled as he thudded down the steps into the snow. Finally finding his motor skills as the pain set in, he choked a few more times, blood staining the snow as he twitched in confusion and disbelief.

He couldn't breath. Each pained attempt at a breath drowned him more, and he stared down at the bullet hole through his chest in slow realization. He rose his hand to the mark in a kind of blind stupor, reaching out for anything as he tried to pull himself up. He was feeling faint and fast, oxygen not reaching his brain as he bled out, crawling blindly up the two steps to the McCormick's front porch. A bloody palm slammed against the door, leaving a long streak down its surface as he spittled more blood down onto himself, not even processing if it opened or not as he finally slid down the rest of the way and let his head crack against the paved veranda. Somewhere in the distance he thought he heard Kenny, but numbness took him as his world turn to black.

Eric's day had been less than satisfactory, if you could put it that way. Butters was off fucking McCormick, the Jew was off fucking Marsh, and Cartman was left going fucking insane from the entirely retarded outcome of the last few weeks. The main point of his irritation, however, was Butters and Kenny. At some point in time, Kenny and Butters had probably been his best friends. He couldn't stand Kyle for being a kike, and he couldn't stand Stan for being stupid, and likewise the enemy by being the 'super best friend' of the kike.

The world belonged to Eric Cartman. If things did not go in Eric Cartman's world the way that he saw them fit to, nowadays, he just tried to find ways to cleanse them into his preferred reality, or get rid of them all together.

If it hadn't been enough, Butters had come to school playing barbie doll for Kenny, dressed up as the stupid fucking Jew himself. He was still trying to figure out how the fuck that all worked; maybe his friends were hiding more form him than he thought. Either way, with them all going to fag town, Cartman was feeling the ultimate form of betrayal.

Which was how he was now somehow standing up in the trees on the hillside near the tracks with a rifle missing one bullet and what he'd thought to be butters flopping about in the snow like a dying fish. But no, it turned out that the person he'd shot had been Kyle.

If the rest of his week had sucked, that moment had made up for everything.

Sure, the humor of his every day life was now dead, but his memory was still available at all times to degrade in every way possible. With this notion was also the standing factor that this would be plus points, seeing Kenny and Stan wither without their little skinny bitch of a red head. Butters would get the butt of everything with Kyle gone. Kenny would suffer for all eternity with his best friend dead on his porch, and Stan would be ultimately heart broken.

And no one was any the wiser of it being Cartman's fault.

Fuck Butters. Fuck Kenny. Cartman fucking hated blonds. They were all retarded sluts, and whatever he might have justified them in the past crumbled the moment he saw Kenny with the peppy crossdresser pinned up against the lockers in the hallway at school that morning.

Whistling a merry tune, not sticking around for him to be picked out of the wilderness by Kenny when he finally found Kyle's body, Cartman hummed some obscure song to himself as he tucked his hunting rifle in it's catch on his back, stuffing his hands in his pockets, all fagbeams and rainbows as he trotted away down the street, entirely uncaring whether his feet brought him home, or to any other place.

He'd finally gotten rid of Kyle Broflovski.

That dirty cocksucking jewrat would never bother Cartman ever again.

Or so he thought.

Kyle's body twitched as he woke up against hot granite, staring at the floor and then consulting the fiery world around him with wide eyes that suggested he was flipping the fuck out. And with good reason; he jumped up off of the floor, almost tumbling back into a pit of lava and swearing a good amount as he staggered away from it to claw at a rock and steady himself. His clothing was almost entirely coated in the same crimson shade of his hair, and he tugged at his head, Stan's hat still firmly held over the top. His heart was pounding - or would have been, if he'd been alive.

"What the fuck - what the FUCK -"

"Um, yer dead kid. You'll be headed back in a minute or two, the bullet wound you sustained is an easy regenerate."

Kyle almost screamed at the voice coming from his left and he flipped away like a distressed bird in a glass box, staring at the demon that was oggling him like he was an idiot - which he probably was coming off as through his moment of panic. Staring at the beast before him in disbelief, it finally sunk in, and he realized he was in hell.

"What the fuck are you talking about?!"

"You're infected, kid. McCormick and you had a recent transfusion of blood. You were probably immortal anyway, though. We know who's cock you've been sucking."

Kyle stared on at the demon in disbelief, he could feel himself vibrating as he shook his head, hands trembling. "Infe.. trans.. that's fucking ridiculous! Kenny's immortality isn't a fucking STD!" He shouted, and the demon just looked at him.

"Look kid. I'm just doing my job, alright? Shut the fuck up and get ready to go back because you're clogging up the soul flow."

Kyle stopped after a moment to stare, because as if what he'd just heard wasn't enough of a kick to the balls, he was pretty sure he was castrated by his own shock as he rose his eyes to find Stan standing some odd ten feet away.

Kyle felt his heart break, and it was far more painful than being shut as his face crumbled, and he broke into a full run to his super best friend.

"STAN!"

The distress in his voice went unrivalled to anything as he jumped pot holes and puddles of acid or whatever, scraping along and practically shoving Damien out of his way, to which some of the demons almost tripped over, obviously fearing for some of their un-lives at the idea of Damien's anger. Kyle clearly was not giving a half-shit as he manhandled Stan, throwing his arms around him and breaking down entirely as his knees gave and he tugged the dark-haired male to the ground, sobbing against his chest.

"Stan... Stan... no, you can't be here... this is part of my torture..." he wailed, clawing at his super best friend like his life depended on it. "Stan, you can't be dead... you can't fucking be dead... I won't go back without him! I WON'T GO BACK WITHOUT HIM!" he shrieked, his anger now directed at Damien. The demon from earlier had arrived, clearing his throat a bit it seemed. In the red-head's moment of hysterics, it was no surprise that the demon was looking relieved to be able to send him back. It was just such a pain in the ass keeping control of crazy people in hell.

"Whatever, kid. See you next time. Get used to it."

Kyle's blood curdling shriek of protest could be heard echoing throughout hell's entirety as the demon waved him away and his soul vanished with a dull 'pop'.

Subject: Re: poke ay mans, poke ay mans, poke ay mans. Mon Nov 30, 2009 10:40 am

poke ay mans, poke ay mans, poke ay mans. Spbanner

「「 p i p xxx c h r i s xxx i k e xxx k y l e xxx t w e e k xxx s t a n 」」 xxx

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Tweek stared on at Thomas in what appeared to be partial disbelief as he presented the news, looking at him for a long period of time before reclining his head back against his pillows to look at the ceiling.

"H-how..." he barely managed to croak past his respirator before tears started to dance to his eyes, and he turned his head to the side, staring in the opposite direction of Thomas for a moment. Pneumonia.. and... AIDS. AIDS, of all the things... he'd gone through so many precautions to protect himself and his family, and here he was, dying, with Thomas and Craig now on the line.

The tears spilled over and Tweek rolled over, twitching weakly with his back to Thomas as he began to cry.

This was all his fault. All his god damned fault. His fault for the drugs, for not having better self control... even as he wept against his pulled-up bedsheets he craved some kind of escape, a release. He wanted chemicals to take it away instead of facing the harsh reality. What the hell did it matter anymore? His life was on a counter now and there was no stopping it, and he was bringing his two lovers down with him.

"I'm s-so sorry Thomas," he wheezed, coughing and choking between gasps of words as he sobbed harder. "It's my fault... it's all my fault. I did everything I was supposed to and now... now..." he hiccoughed and hacked away as he whimpered, pulling his pillow around his face. "I-I deserve to die Thomas! This is all my fault... I sh-should never have listened to Kevin! Oh God... oh God, oh God, oh God... Craig was right... I'm a terrible boyfriend. Just go away and live with him Thom, you guys don't need me," he squeaked, blinking back at Thomas with watery eyes and then noticing his nose with a stricken look.

There was a moment of sobs and silence before he coughed, gripping his chest painfully, and then glaring at Thom for an honest answer. "Did he hit you?"

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