Have some porn

[sekritomg]

Title: Fake Hipsters (2/?)
Author: sekrit_omg
Rating: R
Pairing: S/K; others
Summary:  You can take Stan out of South Park, but you can't take the South Park out of Stan.
Note: Thanks to moondarri for her help beta reading this! 

There was something calm and non-threatening about Butters’ backyard — it wasn’t the largest in South Park, and yet it was hardly the smallest.  There was certainly enough room for four men to stand 10 feet from the back doors of the house and feel cushioned by intimacy, but not isolated. Stan knew everyone at school would find it insane to linger outdoors drinking beer in cold weather. But to native small-town Coloradans, just below freezing — a balmy 31 degrees if the Weather Channel was to be believed — was like Indian summer, unexpected and delicious.

 

Unfortunately, his moment of halcyon was broken by a very particular whining.

 

“Seriously, Kyle,” Eric Cartman moaned. “Why’d you have to bring him, again?”

 

“It wasn’t my idea,” Kyle repeated. “My mother won’t let me out of the house without him.”

 

“Why does it matter?” Stan asked, wiping some foam from his upper lip.

 

“This party was supposed to be super awesome.” Cartman paused to drink some beer, finishing the end of his cup. He tossed it onto the ground before he continued. “Now it’s like some kind of high school Canadian party or something.”

 

“It’s just one kid,” Kenny McCormick countered. He was playing with his lighter, changing the height of the flame and lowering it again quickly. “No big deal.”

 

“Whatever, Kenny.” Cartman rolled his eyes. “You’re just defensive because you brought your pregnant ho.”

 

“She’s not a ho,” Kenny replied.

 

“She’s a very nice girl I’m sure,” Stan said with a wicked grin. “What’s her name?”

 

“Cumbucket,” Cartman said quickly.

 

Kenny dropped his empty hand — the one that wasn’t fussing with his lighter. Wedged between his gym shoes (probably white at one point but now grey from the filth of the city streets) was his blue, thin plastic tumbler of beer. Stan wondered if he wasn’t afraid he might kick it over accidentally—Kenny had always been prone to accidents. For that matter, Stan saw a distinct possibility of Kenny lighting one of the too-long ragged sleeves of his flannel shirt on fire with this careless pyromania. That thing was probably made of at least half pre-fab poly-fiber garbage. Same with his puffy vest. “Actually it’s Trish,” he said weakly.

 

Stan scratched his head, trying to think of something decent to say to Kenny. “That’s a nice name,” he concluded. “When is she due?”

 

“Like a month,” Kenny said nonchalantly.

 

“A month?” Kyle asked. “Dude.”

 

“That doesn’t seem right,” Stan mused. “That would have made her pregnant when I left in August. And have you even been dating her that long? “

 

“Well, what the fuck do I know?” Kenny shrugged. “Go ask her.”

 

“I can’t go ask her,” Stan pointed out. “The door’s locked.”

 

“Yeah,” Kyle added. “Cartman’s got the key.”

 

“I sure do, Jew,” Cartman said merrily, sauntering over to the keg. He stuck his cup under the nozzle. “And you’re not getting it.”

 

“Who said I wanted it?”

 

As if on cue, there was a rhythmic slapping noise against the glass door, and all four men looked toward the house to see a blond boy smacking at the pane and mouthing something none of them could hear, but was comprised of two syllables, which Stan wanted to guess was the word “fellas.” Kyle gave a cheerful little thumbs up, and Stan shrugged, attempting to at least acknowledge Butters, if not let him out of the house.

 

“Who the fuck gets doors that only lock from the inside with keys so they can trap their own son in the house?” Kenny wondered.

 

“Well, obviously Butters’ parents,” Cartman replied, returning from his sojourn to the keg.

 

“Poor Butters,” Kyle sighed. “What a little trooper.” He laughed viciously, and then he sighed.  “Um, hey.” He tentatively grasped at the sleeve of Stan’s blazer. “Do you have a cigarette?” he asked, batting his red lashes.

 

“Um, no.” Stan paused. “Sorry, but, I, um … I quit.”

 

“You what?” Kyle shrieked. He shoved Stan, making him spill beer onto the frozen ground. “How come you didn’t tell me?”

 

“Here,” Kenny offered. He reached into his back pocket, and pulled out a nearly empty packet. “Enjoy.”

 

“These are all for me?” Kyle asked, eyes widening.

 

“Sure. All four of them.”

 

“Oh, Kenny!” Kyle exclaimed. He grabbed the man by his sides and squeezed him tightly. “You’re the best.”

 

Stan felt his heart seize a little, and he turned away from Kyle and Kenny, only to have Cartman sneak up behind him, and whisper into his ear, “What the fuck is wrong with the Jew?”

 

Stan swallowed. “You know,” he said softly.

 

“I don’t want him fucking up this party by being a crazy bitch.”

 

“Wouldn’t that make a party better?”

 

“I don’t want him taking his clothes off.”

 

“He’s not going to take his clothes off, Cartman,” Stan said, even though he knew this was a stupid promise to make, because who knew what Kyle was capable of? Apparently, Kyle was coming off of some sort of episode, mentioned only in passing, really, but still bothering Stan with the lack of information. He very well couldn’t ask Kyle anything. This was a subject he had to tread lightly.

”If anyone’s taking their clothes off it’s me when I’m banging your mom later.”

 

Stan rolled his eyes and gave Cartman a disappointed look; Cartman laughed, and drank some more beer.

 

“Are you talking about me?” Kyle asked, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. Kenny handed him the lighter he’d been fiddling with, and Kyle groped for it. “You know, I have a lighter,” he mumbled.

 

“No,” Stan lied. “We weren’t talking about you.”

 

“This party is so weak,” Cartman lamented. “People’d better be coming. I’ll kill that little faggot if they don’t.”

 

“Watch it,” Stan said cautiously. “Although I guess he is a little faggot,” he added as an afterthought.

 

“How come you can call Butters a faggot and Cartman can’t?” Kenny asked.

 

Stan shrugged. “I dunno,” he confessed. “It works like that.” He rolled his nearly empty cup in his hands.

 

“So Butters is a faggot, and you’re not?” Kyle asked. Stan looked at the glowing tip of Kyle’s cigarette as he took a drag on it, and then he shook his head as he realized that they were waiting for his answer. If there was anything he believed, it was that you really had to internalize this concept to grasp it, and none of his beer-swilling, girl-fucking friends ever could.

 

“I guess so,” Stan said noncommittally.

 

“Stan is more like a homo,” Cartman suggested.

 

“That works,” Kenny agreed.

 

Stan looked at Kyle, who soundlessly took another drag. Stan badly wanted to say something, but nothing came to mind. He kept dreaming up questions and observations and then censoring himself before he could choke them out haphazardly. He wanted to know why Kyle was wearing sunglasses and had been all night; he wanted to blurt out, “Why don’t you ever come visit me?” But every time he opened his mouth he just put the plastic edge of his cup there instead, and let Kenny and Cartman trade the inconsequential details of sex with girls back and forth like it meant nothing to them. Stan knew it meant nothing to him. He wondered why Kyle offered nothing, just stood there smoking.

 

Upon finishing the dregs of his painfully mediocre beer, he excused himself and went to go get a refill. A brief wind was picking up, but in the mountains, all organic material was frosted over so thickly by late December that nothing was stirred. The inane conversation continued behind him, but halted when he returned.

 

 “Are you coming back after graduation?” Kenny asked him. All eyes turned to Stan with interest.

 

“I don’t know,” Stan said easily. “Haven’t thought about it.” A lie — of course he’d thought about it. He knew that a week ago, his answer would have been, “God, no.” But there was something about this town, these people, Butters’ backyard, the crunchy snow piled up against the fence (Stan was sure Cartman’d made him do it, probably so people could smoke outside) … it all made him rethink his plans, which to be honest, weren’t very developed. He remembered not wanting to come back to South Park, and remembered why, but he couldn’t come up with anything to do instead, any alternative plan.

 

“Well, I’ll be here,” Kenny announced. “I’m taking the summer off.”

 

“Off from what?” Kyle asked. “What year are you, anyway?”

 

“Sophomore?” Kenny guessed.

 

“Oh, you’re gonna make that ho real happy,” Cartman said. “Chicks love a guy who can’t get it together to graduate college before they get knocked up.”

 

“At this rate, dude, you’re never going to graduate. I mean, who gets kicked out of the Community College of Denver?” Kyle asked. “All you have to do is show up.”

 

“It’s hard,” Kenny explained. “I have a lot of stuff to do. And you gotta, like … write papers and … stuff.” He paused. “You know?”

 

Stan sighed to himself. He couldn’t come back to this.

 

“Even I can graduate from college, Kenny, Jesus,” Kyle announced.

 

“Well, good for you,” Kenny sniffed. “I’m sure it helps that you don’t have to work, and haven’t got a baby on the way.”

 

“You haven’t had a baby on the way for the past four years, you poor fucking hippie.”

 

“I got busy!” Kenny said defensively.

 

“Yeah, selling crack to 14-year-olds tends to get real busy,” Cartman scoffed.

 

“It’s not crack, it’s pot, and it’s—”

 

Stan nodded and drank some more beer, tuning out this noise. He watched Kyle drop the cigarette on the ground and smash it into the dead grass with the heel of his shoe. He fished another one out of his pocket and lit it, inhaling in satisfaction. Stan narrowed his eyes and licked some beer off of his lips, focused on Kyle.

 

“You’d better go easy on those,” Kenny cautioned. “They’re not cheap, you know.”

 

“I know,” Kyle nodded. “I missed this.”

 

“What, nobody smokes at that fucking hippie school of yours?” Cartman asked.

 

“It’s just not the same without you guys,” Kyle said wistfully.

 

“No,” Stan agreed. All three men looked at him. “What?” he asked. He realized he hadn’t spoken for several minutes, and awkwardly drank some beer.

 

In the distance, a door slammed, although it sounded muffled. “Fuck, you guys,” Cartman sighed.

 

As he marched around the side of the house, Butters’ voice became clearer. “Eric!” he shouted, storming into the backyard.

 

“Hey, Butters,” Stan called out.

 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Cartman said as Butters approached him.

 

“How dare you lock me inside of my own house?” Butters asked, arms crossed — in protest, possibly, but also for warmth, as he’d apparently stormed outside in nothing but his black T-shirt, a lick of blond hair swept carelessly out of his eyes to the point that it suck up in an awkward crest above his hairline.

 

“I’m just having a drink with my friends, Butters,” Cartman drawled. “You don’t own me, Butters, Jesus.”

 

“You’re making me throw you a party for the whole grade—”

 

“Which is like 20 people, Butters, it’s not like a big event.” Cartman’s unsteady voice betrayed him.

 

“Big event or not, if you wanna use my house you gotta be nice to me!”

 

“Butters, how did you even get out here?” Cartman asked impatiently.

 

“My dad keeps an extra key in his spare underwear drawer,” Butters confessed. “Next to his Playgirls,” he added quietly.

 

Stan gave a slight smile at this. “Do you want some beer, Butters?” he asked kindly, motioning to the keg.

 

“No, that’s fine,” Butters replied. “I think this party is going to be disorienting enough.”

 

“But you do drink, right?” Kenny asked.

 

“I drink, sure I do.”

 

“Bullshit, Butters,” Cartman said accusingly. “I’ve never seen you at a party.”

 

“I don’t go to same parties as you, Eric.”

 

“There are other parties?” Cartman asked.

 

“Not everyone likes frat parties,” Butters said.

 

“Oh, that’s fucking monkey shit,” Cartman continued. “Anyone who’s anyone goes to frat parties.” He gave his three friends a look of confirmation, and all three of them shook their heads. “Seriously, you guys are so fucking lame. I hate you all; you all suck so hard.”

 

“Frat parties are stupid,” Kenny

 

“Yeah.” Stan nodded. “They are.”

 

Kyle just shrugged. “Colorado College barely has frats.”

 

“That is so weak,” Cartman sighed. “Well, all right, Butters. I won’t lock you inside of your own house anymore.”

 

“And don’t you forget to clean up that mess,” Butters warned, pointing to the pile of plastic cups and cigarette butts on the ground. “Lord knows what my parents’ll do to me if they come back and find out I had a party.”

 

“What a little faggot,” Cartman sneered as Butters stomped away. “Excuse me,” he said as Stan gave him another look. “What a little prick. Can I call him a prick, or does that have some kind of bad gay connotation?”

 

“Well, I mean—”

 

“It’s like a gendered connotation,” Kyle announced. “But it’s fine because it’s a male one, whereas if you called him a pussy, that would obviously be derogatory, because it’s a feminine term, and you’d be insulting his masculinity.”

 

“Well, there isn’t much of it to speak of,” Kenny chuckled.

 

“I’m for seriously, you guys,” Cartman sighed. “It’s very important that this party is super awesome, okay?”

 

“Why?” Kenny asked. “What’s in it for you?”

 

“Just shut up, Kenny. I hate you, you know that?”

 

“Dude,” Stan said softly, pulling Kyle back from Kenny and Cartman. “Where did you get that shit about gendered insults?”

 

“What?” Kyle asked. He shook his head, and blew some smoke in Stan’s face. Stan pursed his lips, then smiled sheepishly. “Sorry.” Kyle uselessly tried to wave some smoke out of Stan’s eyes. “Um, my thesis.”

 

“You’re going to write a thesis?” Stan asked. “Really?”

 

“Yes, really.” Kyle flicked the butt of his cigarette behind his shoulder. “Why, shouldn’t I?”

 

“No,” Stan clarified. “I just … wow.”

 

“It’s nothing. I’ll just go off my meds for a week and bang it out. You’ll see. It’ll be good.”

 

“I’d like to read it,” Stan offered.

 

“It’s not done.”

 

“I just want to read what you have.”

 

“Okay,” Kyle agreed, smiling. He pulled the cigarette package out of his back pocket and smiled at Stan. “I have two left,” he said. “You want one?”

 

“No.” Stan shook his head sadly, regretting that he couldn’t say yes. “I quit.”

 

“That’s right,” Kyle remembered, flicking his lighter a couple of times. “That’s right, you did.” He paused to light his cigarette, but before he could manage, Stan snatched the lighter out of his hand, and lit it for him. “Thank you,” Kyle breathed, exhaling softly. Stan tasted smoke on his lips, and he stuck his tongue out briefly to see what else he could taste, but realized he looked stupid.

 

“I can’t believe your parents let you have a lighter,” he remarked.

 

“Well, don’t tell them, because they don’t know,” Kyle confessed. “Ike gave it to me.”

 

There was a pause, and Stan heard Kenny and Cartman continuing to argue, playfully, but loudly.

 

“He’s a pretty cool little kid,” Kyle said, calling Stan’s attention back. “I just wish he weren’t here tonight.”

 

“He’s just one kid,” Stan said kindly. “I can ignore him if you can.”

 

“Okay,” Kyle agreed. “Sounds good.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Dude.” Kyle flicked some ash off of his cigarette. “I am going to get so fucked up tonight.”

 

“Me too,” Stan said with a smile. “Me too.”

Comments

[burnawayy.livejournal.com]

(I never know whether to review on FF or on here. It's a life or death decision for me)

Okay. So I really like how you have all these guys laid out. Kenny knocking some chick up is great. And the way he handles it is unfortunately realistic for a guy his age. He's just so nonchalant about it. It's funny.

I like the Cartman/Butters interaction, because it's so reminiscent of the show. The way you wrote their dialogue and their reactions to one another are dead on. Like, Cartman locking Butters in his house at a party that's at his house? Priceless, and so typical of Cartman.

And I really, really want Stan and Kyle to walk over to a corner and just bang each other, because I think they so obviously want to. Or, maybe Stan does. Maybe not. I'm not sure what you have planned with Kyle. Not giving his input on sex with girls, and standing up for Stan's barely there masculinity, makes me curious. But, you have this as Stan/Ike on FF, and that's confusing me.
WHAT ARE YOU PLANNING?

Ugh. I'm so shitty at reviewing. They should have a lock so that only writers can reply to this, because I can't keep my thoughts gathered long enough to type them out. My brain sucks. Sorry.
Aughh your writing <333 I always get so excited when I see you've posted new stuff on here, or when it shows up in my inbox. There's such a small amount of decent writing coming out of this fandom right now, and yours is the perfect fix. I love this story, I love the way you write the characters, and I love that Kenny sells pot to fourteen year-olds. What a guy.

[sekrit-omg.livejournal.com]

(Well, as long as you asked: FF.net. That's where people can see that someone's been reviewing.)

Okay, the secret to writing Cartman is to just have him say the name of the person he's talking to over and over, especially if it's Butters or Kyle. There. Now you too can be a fan fiction author. (I was really worried that shit with the key was totally stupid, by the way.)

Well, for one thing, listing two characters on FF.net doesn't mean they're going to hook up to me, necessarily -- I thought that was just how you indicated who the story was going to focus on. Never matter! Yeah. Just, I am a S/K fan, and anything I write is going to have that bent. Stan would totally have sex with Kyle in the corner at any given moment. I guess Kyle probably would go along with it.

You are not shitty at reviewing. First of all, dude -- this is the only review I have gotten on this. You should not stop replying to things -- without you I would probably just get pissed and stop writing entirely. Seriously, you have no idea what it means that just one person said something. And you didn't just say leave me a fucking emoticon, or something. You wrote something. And I love you for it, and I'm glad you like this, because obviously no one else does. You deserve so much art praise, too. Just remember, 14-year-olds have to get their pot from somewhere.

[avalise.livejournal.com]

I read the beginning of this over on FF.net and I was intrigued. This story is so interesting so far. The way you wrote the dialogue is like I'm at the party myself, peeking over their shoulders into the conversation. Very realistic interaction, and you always manage to keep the South Park boys so in character, even with age. Way to go. Cartman locking Butters in the house sounds like a clip from an episode. lol.

I'm already attached to Kyle, which is probably weird considering we're only two chapters deep here. But all of these implications about a possible mental disorder or something has me so worried about him. I like how you are slowly seeping more and more details out through the story. His situation makes me want to read faster just to get a few more paragraphs down to see what other hints you're giving us.

Regarding burnawayy's first line above me, I don't know whether you prefer the reviews here or over on ff.net. lol. I think i'll copy and paste since it's a damn shame you don't have more reviews on that site for your stories considering the amount of crap that people review over there.

Anyway, can't wait to see where this is headed!

[orphansock.livejournal.com]

I read everything you write, I just don't leave reviews because they usually would usually consist of emoticons or monosyllabic expressions of glee or something. Just FYI.

[sekrit-omg.livejournal.com]

I like you, though, man. You know French.

[(Anonymous)]

A lot of people who speak French suck. Like Le Pen. And Baby Doc.

In all seriousness though, I'll make an effort to review your fics, because I really do appreciate and read everything that you write, and as I used to write fanfic (kind of), I know how crushing it is not to have many people review them, especially when the time and effort put in is considerable. Sorry!

[sekrit-omg.livejournal.com]

A lot of people who suck can't speak French, though, and wish they could.

I am very interested to know what kind of fan fic you used to write. And if it's available online. And why you stopped. Etc.

Ugh, I'm just being a baby, man. I know that's how it goes in fandom. But I can see how many people at least click on the story on FF.net, so I know it's not very many.

[sekrit-omg.livejournal.com]

I am really relieved people like that shit about Butters getting locked inside, because I was worried about whether or not it was plausible or just retarded or whatever. Seriously.

I'm seriously glad you like it, though. And I'm glad that it seems my writing is effective. Because, you know, who knows. Thank you so much for commenting, which I realize is probably too much to ask for considering I'm like the worst commenter ever. And I'm really glad you posted something, too! I hope this is headed somewhere you enjoy. Thanks for reading and responding!

[sekrit-omg.livejournal.com]

Oh god, and for doubling-up on FF.net. That was totally unnecessary, and not worth your time dealing with the ludicrousness that is that site. Thank you again!

[orphansock.livejournal.com]

I started writing an SP fanfic at some point (like five years ago, holy shit), and I think I removed all of it from the Internet a couple of years ago because it was ALL crap and cliché as hell.

I’m kind of writing something right now but I highly doubt that it’ll ever get posted because the last thing this fandom needs is more crappy fanfic polluting it.

[sekrit-omg.livejournal.com]

What? Oh my god, this is sort of awesome. a) What was your first story about? b) I am sure it won't be crap! Sometimes just from talking to a person you can tell they're not a horrible writer. (This is especially true if you've been talking to them on the internet.) I can't promise It'll be popular, but I promise I'll read it. What's it about?

[avalise.livejournal.com]

I feel the same way about little scenes like that. If I write any kind of comedy or even just little situations that I make the characters stumble into, I'm always like 'this is fucking retarded. deletedeletedelete.' hah. But yeah, it was great. Totally Cartman.

I've been trying to comment a lot more now on stories that I like, just to let the author know that their work is appreciated. I used to lurk a lot, but I feel pretty bad about that. Letting someone know you like their work can make a big difference to them. Writing is a loooong process (at least it is for me...) and if you like what the author worked so hard on, tell 'em, dude! So, yeah, no need to thank me for the commenting. I'm just glad that you keep writing awesomeness.

Haha aw, don't apologize for the ff.net thing. It actually had me cracking up. I thought it was funny how you replied over there first. I never got a message before so I was like 'what in the hell is this...' haha. I don't even know how to put an icon on that site, I'm that ff.net retarded.

[sekrit-omg.livejournal.com]

Comedy is so hard to write! Especially in a fandom that is based around one of the funniest things ever.

The problem with reviewing is, I never want to seem like an asshole, and almost any time I've tried to give constructive criticism, the person freaks out on me. And when it's something that I like, I don't really know what to say, because I always feel the need to say something. But I think I can resolve to be better.

Login -> account -> avatar. If you want one. That might be the easiest thing to do on the site.

[avalise.livejournal.com]

Oh man, I've never given anyone constructive criticism in fandom. Every time I try to, I feel like I come off as an arrogant prick, even if I'm trying to be as nice as possible. I usually steer away from that. People have freaked out on you for giving it? That sucks. Some take a great deal of offense to it, which is a shame, since it's only help for improvement.

With reviews though, I've kind of accepted that I sound like a weirdo leaving them. lol. My comments are just "I love this, I love this, oh and hey, this was pretty awesome too. See ya." I don't really know what to say either, so I just kind of rattle off what I liked.

Haaa. That sounds easy enough. The site changed a bit since I used to use it. I was out of fandom for awhile, and when I came back, everyone had tiny little pictures sitting in their profiles. lol.