SekritOMG's avatar
War Paint
56 Watchers19.5K Page Views38 Deviations

clyde rando birthday forever

c

clyde rando birthday forever

It was just Clyde's luck to end up in detention on his birthday. It would have been ironic, maybe, if Clyde had been having the best day ever, only to find himself detained after school. Likewise, if Clyde had been waiting to get home for some birthday celebration, that would have been annoying. But the sad fact was that not a single person had remembered his birthday, and if they had, they hadn't mentioned it. He had only been 20 minutes late to English because he'd slipped on an empty tampon wrapper in the hallway, hit his face against an open locker, and ended up visiting the nurse. Even with awkward bandages plastered against his cheek an

For RandomGhostie: CraigxKenny

F

For RandomGhostie: CraigxKenny

At 7:15 the alarm went off, blasting its flavorless noise into Craig's ear from where it lay on the nightstand. Nightstand, not really — more like an old army trunk Kenny had found in some abject street, taken home and stuck next to the bed. On it sat a pile of yellowing papers, the gaudy papier-mâché sphere-like thing that Craig hesitated to call a lamp (although it did light up), and Craig's cell phone, his de facto alarm. Kenny himself didn't believe in alarm clocks. So Craig rolled over, grasping for his phone, just one more makeshift thing in his life that was supposed to fulfill one purpose and was slowly proving itself

Stan Marsh's Love Plants

S

Stan Marsh's Love Plants

It started in college, when the mold growing under the window ledge in Stan's dorm room kept making him sneeze. "I've never had allergies before," he sniffled one afternoon, right after sneezing all over Kyle's anthro notes. "Do you want a Kleenex? I can wipe that off for you." "You know what, no thanks." Kyle made a disgusted face, balling up his snotty sheet of lined paper. "I'll just Xerox from that guy who looks like he's in the Trenchcoat Mafia. No big deal." Kyle said this in a particular way that ensured there was no doubt in Stan's mind that it was a pretty huge deal. "I don't want you talking to him," Stan replied, wiping his nose

nine scraps

n

nine scraps

I. When her daughter was in seventh grade, Sharon decided to go back to work as a receptionist for a plastic surgeon whose office was on Main Street. Her young son, Stanley, was 8 by then. Randy felt that was too young for Stan to have his mother out all day. "But he's in school full-time now!" Sharon protested. "Do you know what it's like to sit here alone all day?" "I don't know," Randy grunted. "But I'd sure like to have every single day off." This was not a new argument; they'd had it before. "I never have days off!" she yelled. "I cook, I clean, I shop. I do the laundry. I drop the kids off at school. I pick the kids up from school!"

For nhaingen: Clyde X Halfie

F

For nhaingen: Clyde X Halfie

They made fun of him at school, and he wept. Now, Clyde was of the opinion that a 17-year-old boy shouldn't cry, not ever, but he did and he couldn't help it. Not even Stan and Kyle, with their longing glances and lunchtime handholding under the cafeteria tables, understood. Everyone thought they were so adorable, their love so quaint and misunderstood in just the right way. Clyde didn't know what was wrong with them, and he didn't care. He knew what he wanted but he couldn't talk about it. So he cried in the telephone booth where you could make a call for a nickel, but because they all had cell phones no one did. Then one time he excused hi

For Fletset: SxK

F

For Fletset: SxK

Stan was not a dreamer, not in the literal sense. His dreams were all ethereal. They happened during the daytime, during boring meetings, while he was supposed to be updating the company clientele databases. He let his eyes gloss over the letters and numbers and looked into the future: little two-story house, picket fence, dog. This number-crunching stuff was toxic to him. In his fantasies, it was always springtime in South Park: snow on the ground, birds building nests in the rafters under the roof ledge at his childhood home. He liked to think about snowmen in the yard, and a fire in the fireplace. It wasn’t that he disliked the city &

For Eishi: SxK

F

For Eishi: SxK

How could Stan ever forget Kyle’s high school summer job? As assistant librarian, Kyle spent June, July, and August from ages 13 to 17 hauling around the returns cart, reorganizing the card catalogue, and reading to howling children during storytime. It paid $6 an hour, and at the end of every summer, Kyle bought one video game and put the rest into the savings account his parents had opened for him after his bar mitzvah. The South Park Public Library had three computers — all of which were running Windows 98 — a hamster, the complete Vampire Chronicles, and minimal funding. The place was usually deserted, and often during thes

Antiquing IV: Final

A

Antiquing IV: Final

It was somewhat satisfying to have Tweek sitting on the couch by himself while Kyle paced back and forth, interrogating him. Stan just stood against the wall, arms crossed, seemingly fairly upset, but Kyle didn’t have time to worry about him right now. “All this time,” Kyle said slowly, thoughtfully. “We were getting angry at Craig.” He stopped. “And it’s really you, isn’t it?” “What? Me?” Tweek put his hands on his head, obviously meaning to grasp his hair, of which he now had very little to pull at. “No way, man! I don’t do anything with your store! I just own it!” 
See all

clyde rando birthday forever

c

clyde rando birthday forever

It was just Clyde's luck to end up in detention on his birthday. It would have been ironic, maybe, if Clyde had been having the best day ever, only to find himself detained after school. Likewise, if Clyde had been waiting to get home for some birthday celebration, that would have been annoying. But the sad fact was that not a single person had remembered his birthday, and if they had, they hadn't mentioned it. He had only been 20 minutes late to English because he'd slipped on an empty tampon wrapper in the hallway, hit his face against an open locker, and ended up visiting the nurse. Even with awkward bandages plastered against his cheek an

For RandomGhostie: CraigxKenny

F

For RandomGhostie: CraigxKenny

At 7:15 the alarm went off, blasting its flavorless noise into Craig's ear from where it lay on the nightstand. Nightstand, not really — more like an old army trunk Kenny had found in some abject street, taken home and stuck next to the bed. On it sat a pile of yellowing papers, the gaudy papier-mâché sphere-like thing that Craig hesitated to call a lamp (although it did light up), and Craig's cell phone, his de facto alarm. Kenny himself didn't believe in alarm clocks. So Craig rolled over, grasping for his phone, just one more makeshift thing in his life that was supposed to fulfill one purpose and was slowly proving itself

Stan Marsh's Love Plants

S

Stan Marsh's Love Plants

It started in college, when the mold growing under the window ledge in Stan's dorm room kept making him sneeze. "I've never had allergies before," he sniffled one afternoon, right after sneezing all over Kyle's anthro notes. "Do you want a Kleenex? I can wipe that off for you." "You know what, no thanks." Kyle made a disgusted face, balling up his snotty sheet of lined paper. "I'll just Xerox from that guy who looks like he's in the Trenchcoat Mafia. No big deal." Kyle said this in a particular way that ensured there was no doubt in Stan's mind that it was a pretty huge deal. "I don't want you talking to him," Stan replied, wiping his nose

nine scraps

n

nine scraps

I. When her daughter was in seventh grade, Sharon decided to go back to work as a receptionist for a plastic surgeon whose office was on Main Street. Her young son, Stanley, was 8 by then. Randy felt that was too young for Stan to have his mother out all day. "But he's in school full-time now!" Sharon protested. "Do you know what it's like to sit here alone all day?" "I don't know," Randy grunted. "But I'd sure like to have every single day off." This was not a new argument; they'd had it before. "I never have days off!" she yelled. "I cook, I clean, I shop. I do the laundry. I drop the kids off at school. I pick the kids up from school!"

For nhaingen: Clyde X Halfie

F

For nhaingen: Clyde X Halfie

They made fun of him at school, and he wept. Now, Clyde was of the opinion that a 17-year-old boy shouldn't cry, not ever, but he did and he couldn't help it. Not even Stan and Kyle, with their longing glances and lunchtime handholding under the cafeteria tables, understood. Everyone thought they were so adorable, their love so quaint and misunderstood in just the right way. Clyde didn't know what was wrong with them, and he didn't care. He knew what he wanted but he couldn't talk about it. So he cried in the telephone booth where you could make a call for a nickel, but because they all had cell phones no one did. Then one time he excused hi

Antiquing I, SP fic, SxK CxT

A

Antiquing I, SP fic, SxK CxT

South Park tourism was anchored on the downtown strip, a block of 1930s storefronts with chintzy boutique businesses and coffee shops. There was a post office, a toy store, and, for some reason, an outpatient rhinoplasty clinic. Less suspect were a pair of antiques stores — a regular staple of the rural American town. Despite the similar premise, however, stores A and B were about as different as they were overpriced. One was only accessible by buzzer, and a sign on the door bore the following: Opening Hours Tues.-Thurs., noon-4 p.m. or by appointment. Cosmopolitan travelers through town would press their noses against the window to get

Antiquing II

A

Antiquing II

Stan and Kyle had a single employee. On Saturday and Sunday mornings, Butters Stotch got up at 7 a.m. and had a bowl of raisin bran before hopping on his Schwinn Orange Krate and pedaling into town to open up the shop. Butters made a paltry 7 dollars an hour, and even though this was really stretching Kyle’s meticulous budget, he felt that really, having the weekend off was worth $98. Stan was bothered by the idea that a 40-year-old man would want to hang around an antiques store on the weekends, especially when said man was actually a rather respectable elementary school teacher, who made a fine living supporting himself and his pet rab

Antiquing III

A

Antiquing III

In the morning — which really didn’t feel like morning considering Craig had been out there slamming himself against the door until a couple of hours before they got up — Stan did what he usually did and came downstairs to make coffee. He found Tweek sitting at the kitchen table with a mug, and for a second he made the not-invalid assumption that Tweek had gotten up and made coffee. “How’s the coffee?” Stan asked, rubbing his eyes and going into the fridge for the cream cheese. “I don’t know,” Tweek admitted. “Okay.” Stan grabbed a bagel from the pantry. “I didn’t make any.&#

Antiquing IV: Final

A

Antiquing IV: Final

It was somewhat satisfying to have Tweek sitting on the couch by himself while Kyle paced back and forth, interrogating him. Stan just stood against the wall, arms crossed, seemingly fairly upset, but Kyle didn’t have time to worry about him right now. “All this time,” Kyle said slowly, thoughtfully. “We were getting angry at Craig.” He stopped. “And it’s really you, isn’t it?” “What? Me?” Tweek put his hands on his head, obviously meaning to grasp his hair, of which he now had very little to pull at. “No way, man! I don’t do anything with your store! I just own it!” 

For Eishi: SxK

F

For Eishi: SxK

How could Stan ever forget Kyle’s high school summer job? As assistant librarian, Kyle spent June, July, and August from ages 13 to 17 hauling around the returns cart, reorganizing the card catalogue, and reading to howling children during storytime. It paid $6 an hour, and at the end of every summer, Kyle bought one video game and put the rest into the savings account his parents had opened for him after his bar mitzvah. The South Park Public Library had three computers — all of which were running Windows 98 — a hamster, the complete Vampire Chronicles, and minimal funding. The place was usually deserted, and often during thes
Badges
Two Scoops: Exclusive Robert Rodriguez Blackberry Badge
Super Llama: Llamas are awesome! (34)

It's been a bountiful day

It's been a bountiful day

So bountiful. Gosh, I'm so happy.

secret santa

secret santa

It's been something like a year since I bothered to use this journal. Hi guys! Hi Santa! It's not that I have specific prompts so much as general ideas about what I like (and don't). I like Stan/Kyle, and I don't care for the hats and outfits they wear on the show. I like both fan art and fan fic, but fic is so much rarer and I like to encourage people to write. Then again, everyone has their own strengths, so I don't want to be too bossy. I love when the characters are older -- college is cool; 20s and 30s is really exciting. I like established relationships more than will they?/won't they? plots. (Because they will.) I like to see people t

this is so timely you guys

this is so timely you guys

https://www.penny-arcade.com/comic/2003/9/8/ Ha ha, I'm spending my youth reading six-year-old comics.

Comments 165

Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
sekrit oh em gee
ur the one for me
lets hang out together
underneath a tree

we will have such fun
til the day is done
eating lots of plums
writing about bums

bums as in asses not homeless people
Is it weird how accurate this poem is overall? Thank you for sharing.
i like how the plums part came true in the form of a creepy john elway press photo, yeah
I know, right? He is just the king of applicability.
plsandtyProfessional General Artist
happy birthday!! (:
Hey Sekrit. You ever notice that you're the one of the only ones nhaingen occasionally tries to use proper grammar for? It's beautiful and somewhat terrifying.
Well, no, because I'm not part of her conversations with other people! You must be super observant.