candyblink
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He had watched eagerly and in anticipation as the bottle slowed its fast spinning motion, his heart a boisterous rhythm in his chest. For a moment, he thought that accepting Bebe’s invitation was the smartest thing he had ever done—it wasn't often he got to kiss the girls in his class.
A thought he'd soon retract as the bottle slowed, and then stopped.
And now, he stares at the person who is sitting in the direction where the bottle is pointing, and suddenly, this game isn’t so fun anymore.
The bottle is pointing at fucking Eric Cartman.
Bookmarked by candyblink
05 Aug 2026
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The other issue with the parties, Kyle finds, is that they’re often just too goddamn boring. They’re all the same formula. People get drunk, they pull out the games, people hook up, pass out, and then it’s all over social media. And it’s not like the people who hook up with each other ever change it up, no, it’s always the same damn couples. Stan and Wendy are notorious for this. Others include Clyde and Bebe, and Tweek and Kenny. It’s predictable, like reading the final page of the book when you’re really only halfway through.
Perhaps that’s why Kyle is smoking tonight. Usually he only indulges in some drinks, but being plagued by the impending predictability of the evening caused him to want to do something different. He also usually doesn’t escape this far, only going just outside onto the deck or against the side of the house.
It is peaceful, though.
He hears the crunching of twigs and leaves.
Well, it was good while it lasted.
(In which Kyle is tired of the same, old, formulaic, day-to-day shit, and Eric has to remind him that he's the one behind the wheel)
Bookmarked by candyblink
04 Aug 2026
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A piercing howl interrupts him, and Kyle snaps his head to see Cartman stagger backwards, a syringe hanging limply from his side. The other goon on the ground sputters and coughs.
"Raccoon!" Kyle calls out and lets go of the man's arms as Cartman falls to the ground, teeth gritted and clearly in pain. He narrows in on the other goon, the one Cartman was fighting, and grabs his shirt, balling his fist. "What did you give him?"
The other goon smiles, bloody and crazy. "Something Chaos cooked up."
Before Kyle can make a move, there's something stabbing him in the neck. His first thought is a knife, but in an instant, he feels his entire body ignite, every nerve lighting up like it's on fire. He yelps and stumbles back, hand closing in on the object embedded into his skin and pulling it out.
A syringe.
(In which a simple robbery thwarting goes horribly wrong, and there's seemingly only one way to fix it).
Bookmarked by candyblink
04 Aug 2026
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Eric wants to trust Kyle without a second thought. But his insecurity and pride won't let him. Part 1 in my oneshot series "Twenty-Eight".
(The boys may have reached adulthood and gone their separate ways, but that doesn't mean they've grown up, or that South Park is far behind them.)
Series
- Part 1 of Twenty-Eight
Bookmarked by candyblink
13 Jul 2026
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Kyle sighed and then asked the question which he had always on some level feared he would some day have to ask. "What are you doing in my closet, Cartman?"
Bookmarked by candyblink
12 Jul 2026