Ohaider. So, this is my FIRST fanfiction, therefore I'm eager to receive the feedback from y'all peeps :3. I'm a successfully published author, and I'll initially apprise that I don't have any 'The Catcher in the Rye' critical acclamation status. Naw, but I'm going to refrain from releasing further information to avoid any direct contact, since this website is a guilty pleasure. So I've already violated the silent 'brief headline' obligation, so I'm gonna HURRY UP-
The following material encompasses the potential of triggering immature audiences, subsequent to exhibiting content such as explicit dialogue Suitable for 12/13+
Rivers Flow In You
Chapter I - The Final Bull
Love is represented as a captive animal, external to the person in love but held onto by him or her, such that letting the animal loose represents loss of control over the feelings of love, and holding onto the animal represents retention of control. He couldn't hold back his love. She let go of her feelings.
Kenny McCormick was a notably distinct child; he disregards the principles of general conformity, hence his literally unbelievable life dysfunction. He possessed the station in most children's eyes as the silent observer of the quartet, which encompassed Stan Marsh, Kyle Broflovski, Eric Cartman, and occasionally Leopold Scotch, prominently labeled as "Butters," which most people knew him as.
Kenny had a friendly liking for Butters. Kenny was a neutral viewer. He had a grey perspective, unlike most other thirteen-year-olds in the modest but dysfunctional mountain town of South Park, he analyzed everything. More so than most people, who categorize themselves as "smart," relatively pompously. And that's why he saw Butters more recognizable than anyone else. As Kenny were to examine the actions and behaviors of Butters, either if it was he was bored and scanning the hallways as Kyle and Cartman were engaging in yet another typical juvenile argument (you'd imagine their argumentative maturity would evolve decreasingly over the years, but no), or if he was directly conversing with Butters himself, he made but two conclusions. One; Butters is dedicated, compassionate and considerate. And two; Butter's a fuckin' genius! Kenny thought Butters was a genius. He analyzed Butters to his bones, until he discovered that Butters' most likely did the same to him.
On projects, Kenny frequently collaborated with Butters on scholastic assignments and homework. And Butters would often generate propositions that made Kenny's eyes expand for a moment. A noteworthy occurrence was in 6th grade; where they acted like drunken best friends whenever they got together outside of school. They were obliged an educational exercise, where they needed to craft a catapult with the provided materials from their shop teacher. Butters' mouth had rocketed out information of torque and pivot physics to trigger the execution of matter - so on and so forth. Kenny was absorbing this all of this with half of his conscious, and the other was busy thinking about Butters.
There was also Tweek Tweak, a jittery coil-spring, who's addiction had negatively progressed since middle school. But there was one other person that Kenny saw out of the others. Wendy Testaburger. He's yet to directly interact with her. And here's the weird thing; it's not because he psychoanalyzed her based on the physical actions and so on; no. He just felt as though she was... well, something. Not a specific characteristic jumped to his tongue, but he thought positive of her. From what he can see, she was polite, mature, and intelligent. That was it. He had no geeky ambition of being with her, especially due to her concurrent relationship with Stan Marsh.
Kenny had a moral opinion that's stood still since third grade; he that women were overrated. As notorious for, he was a horndog, humping anything that walks. In fact, had a domestically infamous masturbation problem; not a day went by without self-gratifying himself at least three times. But he always felt as though romantically associating with women was overvalued. He vented his internal stances to Stan Marsh, predominantly to provoke him aside his girlfriend. Aside from the context of sounding generally sadistic, it was satisfying to Kenny to vex Stan like that.
He typically informed Stan on his standpoints at the bus stop, when they assembled on schedule, commonly converging in odd unison. Kyle would usually retort a counter for Stan, since Stan was more apathetic and absorbent, whereas Kyle was the morality compass and voice of the group. Something like "The fuck, Kenny?" or "Really dude?" or some short 'cop.'
"Hey, Stan?" Kenny eagerly uttered, with a sense of humor in his blissful tone. He approached in in the transition between school periods in the locker hall.
Stan pivoted his head towards Kenny in reply. He raised his brows in the 'what?' fashion.
"Didn't you used to do magic tricks?"
Stan chuckled. "Yeah, but in, like, sixth grade."
"I have a magic trick-"
"Oh fuck that," Stan instantaneously stated. He knew that whenever the general topic of magic arose, he would always pull out a cock joke or something else related to cocks. Stan now had an instinct to avoid, luckily. "Nope Kenny!"
"I know how to turn a fox into an elephant!" A grin was tugging on the corner of Kenny's lips, masked behind his tight parka. He couldn't help at chortling at himself, but luckily, it was muffled by the confines of his thick winter coat, keeping his laughs from being edgewise.
Stan swallowed, deciding to take a bullet, just for the curiosity of Kenny's boundless quantity of offensive jokes. "Okay... how?" Kyle peered around Stan to observe for himself.
"You be it's girlfriend... and call her WENDY!" Kenny guffawed, breaking the dam of his laughter, before the capacity of his lungs were vacant from boisterous outbursts. Stan's face stirred in anger, and swung his foot into Kenny's shin, stopping his laughing.
"Hey!" Kenny sharply muffled. Behind Stan, Kyle had to turn his back to disguise his smile, finding the joke to actually be funny. A chuckle escaped his possession, making its way to Stan's realization.
"What, you thought it was funny?" he sternly said, half curious and half vexed.
"Kind of," Kyle bluntly retorted, somewhat aloof. Stan rolled his eyes.
Kenny walked away with content, getting a head start on traveling to his following period. Kenny never had anything out for Wendy; he just received gratification from exasperating Stanley, via using the one thing that triggers him; Wendy. Come to think of it, analytic Kenny McCormick reflected on the fact that Stan had seldom spend time with Wendy as of lately. And come to think of it further, Stan and Wendy seemed to haven't interact with her in about a week or two. Maybe... that was why?
At the lunch table, Kenny was chewing on his sandwich of leftover turkey pressed between two slices of wheat bread, beside Tweek Tweak as they concentrated on the centralization of the dinner table, which was one of Kyle and Cartman's excessive verbal fights, which originated from the claim of Cartman stereotyping Jews, once again. Kenny usually just examined, and Tweek apparently sat there in suspense, as if the ground was ready to fall. The vocal volume raised.
"You're a fucking dipshit!" Kyle snapped.
"I'm telling you guys," a counter Cartman usually adopted (facingt the audience) that contented his argument for some reason. "9/11 was a JEWISH movement! Look it up!"
"Islam is different from Judaism, Fuckhead!" Kyle sharply replied.
The argument only escalated from there, and the action rose from there. Something was wrong that lunch, though. Everyday, with the exception of one of the quartet being suspended or ill, since kindergarten, they always sat together at the lunch table. But Stan was oddly sitting at another table, eating his Papa John's pizza. They missed the climax, because Kenny ugged the sleeve of Butters' cyan shirt, acquiring his attention. He raised my finger in the direction of Stan's lunch table, pointing it out to Butters as he scanned Stanley. They processed in unison, and the two picked up their lunches, ambling over to Stan.
Kenny invited himself to the isolated table, throwing his plate-less sandwich onto the table, seemingly disregarding it being insanitary. Butters set his lunch box down. "Hey, what's up?" Kenny asked.
"The fuck do you want?" Stan hissed.
"Why so pissy?" Kenny egged, with a trace of compassion. Kenny examined Stan's unkempt display. He had heavy, sunken eyes; his facial features paler and bleaker than ordinary. His hair was disheveled, and his brown coat was so disordered that it was near to unacceptable in a public vicinity. You thought Kenny was neglected the principles of sanitation; Kenny and Butters could almost envision the flying larva revolving around Stan. Even his trademark winter hat was absent, a signature that he sported daily. His entire exterior was bedraggled. Pity and worry, two emotion Kenny scarcely possesses, flooded him.
Kenny sat down on the table row seat, tossing his lanky legs over the bench and positioned himself towards Stan from across the the table.
"Seriously man, what's up?"
Stan released a sigh. "Wendy's a cunt."
"Whoa, what the fuck happened?" Kenny was thrown back. Subsequent to Kenny's request of the scenario, Stan verbally illustrated the negative occurrence. But we all know what happens when you asked a pissed-off, male teenager who just labeled his supposedly ex-girlfriend a "cunt" how they departed: It's foretold in a bias. And that's what happened. But this is how the incident realistically unfolded:
Wendy was, as accustomed on schooldays, was sauntering aside Stan Marsh, who wore a conspicuous mask of ennui. Wendy took notice to his behavior as she walked on the street-bordered sidewalk, whereas Stanley's individual steps were heavier.
"Is there something wrong Stan?" Wendy inquired, only to receive a black sigh from vexed Stan.
"Are you going to ask that every minute now? Jesus Christ on a bicycle,"
"Sorry..." Wendy replied through her hostile clenched teeth, making an essay to let it slide off of her shoulder, as she did too often. She did this ever since middle school, when the relationship between the two was attempting to grasp on it's last thread of association. Attempting to diverge the concurrent pessimism in the air, Wendy steered the conversation towards something more optimistic. "You want to work on homework together tomorrow?"
"No. I have to go to some stupid concert for my sister."
"Well, did you try that muffin I made you?"
"What muffin?"
Wendy's face flushed, as anger stirred inside of her mental barrier that could barely restrict her current anger, before it was substituted with a shot of dejection and sorrow, occupying the temporary vacancy that voided her with despondence. "But Stan..." Her voice started to extend, before it broke. "I made that muffin! It took me forever to make! WHA..."
"Okay, Jesus fucking Christ, I'll eat it! Damn. Didn't know a fucking lump of shit meant the world to you."
She could barely limit herself from beating the shit out of Stan. She had the capability; but not the intention.
"Do you want to see the new Terrance & Phillip movie?" Wendy notably despised the immature Canadian duo, who performed nothing but archetypal, reincarnated toddler humor. She just wanted to catch a glimpse of Stan being in the state of pleasure for once, while she still felt hurt.
"No," Stanley bluntly grunted. "the movies aren't good anymore."
"You were prematurely impacted from Asses of Fire! You nearly killed the two!" Wendy outburst, pushed to the edge of the cliff. She let go and let it out.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Stan sternly sharped. He knotted his brows, as Wendy stared at her reflection in his eyes of scorn, the ones she felt like putting a bullet between. Her emotions fell, as new ones rose.
"You know how much it pisses me off that you think me giving you a muffin isn't a big deal, when I spent SUCH a LONG time on it! Fuck you! I'm still pissed off from you shunning the hat I had woven you in seventh grade! You take no ones' feelings into consideration! Ever!" She stopped, only to accelerate. "You are uncultured, uncaring, disregarding, and insensitive, Stan. Fuck you!"
"At least I don't act all morally superior because I pretend I had a fucking clue about politics, or feminism frequency, or whatever fucking weekly soapbox issue you have today!"
"Fuck you Stan! You've just turned into a jackass since your fucking parents got divorced." Stan replied by physically shoving her, subsequently causing her to stumble back, and fall unbalanced as her tailbone collided into the asphalt, as Stan's eyes nailed her with contempt, whereas her's began toswim. She lifted herself off of the ink-colored concrete, and sprinted in the distance towards her household, but not before Stan let the final bull loose.
"I HATE YOU!"
Rivers of fluid streamed out of her reflective eyes, drawing lines of emotional pain on her face, continuing to run. She flew the front door of her residence open, as he ran upstairs, throwing the door of her bedroom closed an locked.
Stan had no regret or pain that day. Butters had listened to Stan's side of the story, absorbing it with belief. Kenny knew the deal, though.
...Was it gewd? ;D I'm really excited to see what y'all think about this. This is the first chapter of what will be a Kenny/Wendy drama-romance fanfiction, and this was sort of a teaser of what you can be expecting next. Suggest this to your fellow fanfiction viewers if you feel this story is worthy of doing so. Feedback, negative or positive, would be highly appreciated. I already have a CRAZY plot twist up my sleeve, so stay tuned if you wish.
Anyway, thanks y'all, and be prepared for the second chapter. Kenny/Wendy action (no, not THAT action) will start kicking in the third chapter; I don't want to rush the exposition.