*Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to South Park

Photos and Furbies

Tweek's point of view:

Halloween was never your thing, even when you were young. You remember watching the rest of the kids scuttle passed your house in elementary school, pillowcases in hand and clad in home made costumes. You liked to stay inside and watch Mom and Dad answer the door for kids in your class. You'd take pictures of them from behind your parents, which may have crept them out. But, whatever, you loved taking pictures with Dad's old digital camera—it was your favorite pass time.

No one seemed to appreciate your talent though. You'd hand the pictures to your friends (well, err, your naïve brain thought they were your friends anyway) the next day at school, but they'd always shove the photo back in your face, calling you a stalker!

Oh, why didn't you go out to trick or treat? Because, you were the most superstitious little prick to grace the town of South Park. You weren't stupid, you knew what Halloween used to be, and you didn't want any part of it. After all, in a place like South Park…it wasn't very crazy to expect the living dead to knock at your front door.

After elementary and middle school, the cool thing to do on Halloween morphed into partying. Which, well, wasn't really your thing either. Not that it really mattered; you weren't invited to any parties anyways. While the kids you went to elementary school with changed into functioning young adults, you just kind of stayed the same—remained the designated weird kid of South Park High's junior class. You didn't have friends and you didn't need friends, at least not until Craig Tucker was in the same Photography class as you.

Craig Tucker was also weird, except he actually had friends. Granted…he didn't have a lot (two actually…maybe three if you count Kenny), but it was still more than you'd ever had. Not many people liked him either because he was dick, attached to his laptop, and not exactly the prettiest thing to look at. And by that, you mean, he looked like a grown lumberjack in a sea of sixteen and seventeen year olds; because Craig Tucker didn't really give a shit about himself. He rarely shaved and grew hair like a Sasquatch. If Craig didn't have a short beard clinging to his face, then he had a scratchy five o'clock shadow. He was also a giant, standing probably six five, a trait that you assumed came from his equally enormous dad.

As far as Craig's personality, well, he never really did much except brag about his blog that no one followed. In fact, you're pretty sure a few assholes from your school found it and trolled it for a while before getting bored from Craig's lack of response.

Craig's blog? It's just pictures of his guinea pig doing random shit. Like, eating, pooping, sleeping…it's kind of cute actually. You followed him after you guys became friends.

Actually, you both became really good friends—in fact, you're dating each other. You won't go into the details of how that happened, because this isn't a story about how you guys met. This is just a simple story of Halloween.

"Come on Tweek," Craig mumbled into your cell phone, "I don't want to be stuck with a bunch of assholes tonight."

"Th-then don't go." You replied simply, saving your Pokémon game for what felt like the millionth time in a minute.

"But Clyde's throwing this party, and you know how bitchy he gets when I don't show up." He reasoned.

Despite the fact that Craig was relatively unpopular and disliked throughout the school, he was invited to almost everything. Why? Because his two best friends were some of the most favored kids in the grade: Token Black and Clyde Donovan. They were usually the ones who threw parties left and right for almost no reason. Like…Clyde got an A on a test—party. Or, Token's parents bought him a new shirt—party. While Craig wasn't much of a party guy, he enjoyed getting wasted just as much as everyone else in South Park. Where alcohol went, Craig usually followed.

"You can hang out with Kenny." You said, sitting up on your mattress and turning off the Gameboy Color in your hands. The cell phone sat on top of your pillow on speaker.

"But I can't fuck Kenny." You could almost see the pout on his face.

"Hey—ngh—don't you have to dress up or something?" You asked. "You're going to a Halloween party, right?"

"Yeah." Craig replied. You waited for some more details, and when nothing else came from the receiver you testily picked up your phone and impatiently asked,

"Well, what are you going as?"

"I don't want to tell you."

"Why?"

"Because you'll laugh."

"No I won't."

"Yeah you will."

"No."

"Yeah."

"N-No! Just tell me!"

Craig sighed on the other end of the phone, and you waited patiently for his response.

"Don't laugh."

"Okay." No promises.

"I'm going as a Furby." Craig mumbled; you could barely understand his response it was so quiet.

Your cheeks puffed out, holding in a giggle that began to bubble at the back of your throat. Craig actually made the perfect Furby. He was hairy and kind of creepy, everything that the demonic toys seemed to embody. Although, you couldn't help but question his decision.

"Wh-why," you swallowed the laughter that tempted to spill out of your lungs, "why are you being a-a Furby?"

"I lost a bet with Token." Came the gruff response. Before you could open your mouth he said, "And don't ask what it was, it was stupid." Ah Craig,…such a man of his word.

"Well how are you going to dress as a Furby?"

"I don't know. Seems easy enough. All I need to do is put on some giant ass ears and I think I'm good."

"You should put on some fake eyelashes too." You snickered.

"Fuck off Tweek." Craig hissed. "I'll see you later tonight."

"I already said I wasn't going!"

"I know, Jesus, I mean that I'll probably bail out early and stop by your house."

"Oh, okay." You said, relaxing back into your bed. "Keep your costume on when you come over, I want to see it." And take a picture of it; there was no way you were passing this opportunity up.

"Yeah yeah, love you."

"Love you too."

And then he hung up.

With your parents out of the house, you were really excited for Craig to come over later. It meant they wouldn't be there to walk in on…well…something parents definitely shouldn't see.

You ignored every single trick-or-treater that rang your doorbell, and spent the evening avoiding Halloween specials on the television (which is a lot harder than it sounds). Eventually you decided on a Planet Earth marathon courtesy of Netflix.

It's not until around one in the morning that you heard a loud knock on the front door. You flinched, it's a murderer. Pausing the television, you stood up from the couch and crept to the front door—squinting your large brown eyes to peer out the peephole.
Your vision was overwhelmed with a large clump of faux black fur clogging up the peephole. Werewolf. You tiptoed away from the door and to one of the windows that lay on either side of it. Looking through the smudged glass, you let out a sigh of relief. It wasn't a monster. Well…maybe it was, but at least you knew this monster.

Leaning heavily against the thick wooden front door was Craig. You could already tell from his wobbly and sloppy posture that he probably had more than his fair share to drink. He was wearing all black with a feathery black boa wrapped around his neck. Two large and fluffy dark ears protruded from his short thick hair. With the way that he was leaning against the door, you couldn't really see his face.

You cracked the door open for Craig slowly, so he wouldn't topple over onto the ground in the process. "Hey Craig." You said quietly, watching with amusement as he stumbled once his barrier was gone, walking clumsily right into your smaller frame and nearly knocking you over. You wrapped your wiry arms tightly around his waist, just barely holding up the monster. Feathers fluttered around your mouth and you blew them out of your face irritably. Craig was leaning almost completely against you, his head resting on your shoulder.

"D-Did you have fun?" You asked carefully, patting his back. You knew how childish Craig could become when he was drunk: like a giant emotional toddler.

"No." Craig mumbled against your shoulder, using you as a support to stand himself upright. You had to hold in a laugh when you saw Craig's face for the first time. It was painted—badly—with black face paint, making his blue eyes seem more like bright beacons. He had on cheep mascara in an attempt to make his eyelashes appear longer than they actually were. There was also a messy smear of yellow lipstick across his mouth, which you guessed was supposed to be the beak or whatever the hell Furbies had for a mouth.

His face paired with the large ridiculous ears and feathery boa basically completed your life. You could have died right then and there with no regrets.

Craig looked a bit angry for a Furby though.

"Why n-not?" You asked, swallowing a chuckle.

"Because," Craig slurred, "everyone laughed at me." He leaned heavily against you again and you groaned, trying to push him away.

"You should probably clean yourself up." You said, noticing the face paint beginning to smear. There was no doubt that some of it probably got onto your shirt.

"I want you to clean me up." He mumbled, clumsily kissing your cheek. You scrunched your nose for two reasons: one, he probably just got yellow lipstick all over your face, and two, his breath smelt rancid of alcohol and who-know-what-else.

"I'll clean you up." You said, pursing your lips. "If you let me take your picture." Craig frowned dramatically, stepping away from you like you were suddenly on fire.

"No. Fuck you. You'll probably show it to everyone." He growled.

"Craig, everyone already saw you at the party." You reminded him calmly. Your fingers itched to grab your camera. "And, I promise I won't show it to anyone." You didn't have that many friends anyway.

Craig furrowed his thick eyebrows, thinking hard before finally relenting. "Fine." He grumbled, reaching out awkwardly to take your hand. You smiled excitedly and grabbed it before lugging Craig up the stairs and into the bathroom. You sat him down on the toilet and ordered him to stay put until you came back.

Entering the bathroom a few minutes later, camera in hand, you looked over Craig's slouching form. His head was lulled forward and his eyes were closed as if he fell asleep. And he might have for all you knew, but you needed him awake in order to be satisfied with your photo.

"Craig." You poked his leg with your foot, and he grunted irritably. "Craig, o-open your eyes and smile at the camera." You said, ready to snap a picture.

Craig opened his eyes and brought his head up, frowning deeply and flipping the camera off. Perfect. You took a quick picture before looking it over, smiling dumbly at the result. You had to frame this later.

"Now wash my face." Craig demanded, his yellow lips forming into a pout. You set your camera gingerly on the side of the sink, careful not to bump it as you wet a washcloth with warm water.

You made sure to remove Craig's boa before you started to scrub his face clean.

"W-who dropped you off here anyway?" You asked as you kneeled in front of Craig, bringing the soaked cloth to his cheek and beginning to scrape the face paint off gently. You knew he couldn't have walked. Clyde's house is too far from yours.

"Wendy." Craig muttered. "She thought Token was too drunk to drive me here." He closed one of his eyes as you slowly worked your way up his cheek, trying to scrub off the chunks of mascara. "She's stupid though, man, Token can drive no matter what." You rolled your eyes as you continued to carefully wipe at one side of Craig's face. The washcloth was now stained black at the tip and you had to rinse it off again.

Wringing it out, you returned to your spot in front of Craig, cleaning off his lips and beginning the other half of his face. Craig hummed and fell forwards, almost completely if it weren't for the fact that you held him up by pressing a hand to his chest.

"Tweek," he mumbled, shutting his eyes again as you began to clean around them, "have I ever told you how much I love you?" You scoffed, used to such behavior.

"No." You lied, even though he's told you a countless amount of times.

"Well I love you man, you're like—like so fuckin' great."

"How great?" You mused.

"Really great," Craig slurred, "like, the Great Wall of China great."

You raised an eyebrow at that and moved Craig's bangs out of the way in order to clean off his forehead. "W-Wow that's pretty great." You replied.

"Yeah." He said. "You don't even care that I turned into a scary ass Furby. You still love me."

You scrunched your face up at that and snorted.

"Craig, you didn't turn into a Furby." You said slowly. Standing up to put away the soiled cloth, Craig slumped down off of the toilet dramatically. The fluffy ears still remained on his head.

"It's too late for me, Tweek." He moaned sadly. "Just promise me you won't keep me in the basement with the rest of your creepy collection."

"C-Craig!" You cried. "I don't have a Furby collection!" Jesus Christ, remember how much those freaked you out as a kid?

"Well, you have one now." Craig grumbled.

You grabbed the camera off of the sink as well as the feathery boa from the floor before carefully stepping over Craig and leaving the bathroom. You knew he'd get up and follow you into your room eventually.

Unfortunately, the plans you had in mind for yourself and Craig didn't look like they would become reality. Doing something with Craig like this would probably end up being more work than pleasure—he'd probably fall asleep right in the middle of it too.

Putting your camera and boa on your dresser, you grabbed a large t-shirt and sweat pants that Craig would hopefully fit into and threw it at him when he wandered through the door.

Craig settled down next to you on your bed after he'd changed. He made sure to ditch the ears on the floor of your room before wrapping his arms around you and sighing happily. You could feel his face burry into your messy blonde hair as he inhaled your scent. You knew it wouldn't be long until he fell asleep.

"Tweek," Craig mumbled.

"Yes?"

"I love you." He yawned

"I l-love you too." You responded, turning onto your side to suck up his warmth.

"Even though I'm a Furby?" Craig asked tiredly.

You rolled your eyes. "Even though you're a Furby." You confirmed. Craig fell asleep shortly after your reply, and only when his giant monster form was on top of you did you realize that you left the lights on. You shifted in an attempt to escape the bed, but Craig grunted angrily and just kept his arms around you.

After a few moments you decided to just leave them on and try to get some sleep yourself. Besides, sleeping with the lights on on Halloween night didn't seem like such a bad thing to you anyway.

Your eyes slowly eased shut. You may not be a fan of Halloween and the parties and monsters, but you never really minded what came after it.

Wow uh, was this fluffy? Kind of, not really? Hahaha. Anyways, Happy Halloween!

*Special thank you to listentothistrackbitches . tumblr for coming up with the idea of Craig dressing as an angry Furby!