A/N: Hey, so. I'm doing random one-shots for practise with a random word generator. (I totally hacked this idea from The Zoshi and her K2 word generator challenge, but I have no fixed number of one-shots and no fixed pairings. It's really just... well, yeah. Practise. Not much else.)

I'll take pairing requests in reviews if you want. Anything - homo, het, doesn't matter. Can even be more than two characters, but I'm not making promises. A lot may just be friendfics. Ahhh I don't even know what I'm doing anymore.

Ratings are at M just in case. There may be adult situations and mature content in other chapters depending.

Thanks for reading up mates.

Here's my crappy starter chapter. Enjoy. (Errgh.)

-- 001: Stenny - "Storage" --

"What in the hell is this?"

Kenny pulled the wrapped box from the attic's disarray and Stan turned to look, his eyebrows raising at the sight. "Shit. Don't open that."

"Why? Looks like a birthday present or somethin'." Kenny blew some dust from the top and walked over in time for Stan to take the box from Kenny's hands.

"It's not. It's a time capsule."

"It's a god damn box wrapped in gift paper, dude."

"No, it's a time capsule. Cut me some slack, Kenny, I was five when I made this."

Kenny rose one eyebrow in a way he was infamous for, mussing his hair a bit as he looked at the box in question. Stan held it in a way that someone might hold their child out of reach of a homeless man on a street corner with bad teeth. Kenny wasn't sure if he was supposed to feel offended or not.

"Stan."

"Yeah?"

"We're twenty. Y'do realize that, right?"

Stan gave him a steady look. "Yeah, so?"

Kenny stole the box back, his dark-haired counterpart reaching helplessly for it's return but getting no offering. Kenny grinned. "You're supposed to open a time capsule after ten years, aren't ya?"

Stan blanched, glancing down at the dusty wrapping job and then glancing back up at Kenny slowly. "Well, yeah... I guess so. But I'm not gonna open it with you here, dude. It's a time capsule. I've had it in storage for fifteen years, I don't even remember what's in it anymore."

"Oh, I think you do, Marsh. And that's why you don't want me lookin' in it. Am I right?"

Stan cursed Kenny for his smarts coming out at the worst of times - mostly in Stan's favour. His breath caught a bit at the sound of ripping paper; Kenny peeled back the Toy Story-printed wrapping and let it fall to the insulated floor of the attic, blue eyes searching for the opening side before he peeled back the lid, dropping to the hardwood floor.

The collection of objects was comical. A few papers with childish writing - little notes that Stan had written that were nearly illegible now to even Stan himself. Some kiddy clay figurines joined the papers as Kenny removed them one by one, Stanley feeling slowly more and more stripped of his personals with each shed object.

Lastly were the photographs, and these Stan remembered well. Toothy grins from himself, Kenny, Kyle, Eric - their general group of friends, along with the kindergarten class photograph that marked most of their friendships in the first place. Stan looked on awkwardly as Kenny flipped the photos onto their backs, grinning a little to himself.

"You always had the best intuition out of the four of us, you know? Or so I think," Kenny said, tilting his head to the side and holding out a photo of the four of them linked at arms, albeit Kyle, who was punching Eric in the jaw by some predictable insult.

Stan took the photograph, flipping it over to reveal the sloppy 'frens forevar' written in blue crayon across the back of the Polaroid, and grinned to himself as he kicked Kenny in the leg and tossed the photo back in the box for reflecting upon another day in the future.