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vargaslovinghours · 11 months

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Fandom: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac (But really Vargas lol) Rating: Teen and up Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

What, exactly, did Scriabin take from Edgar when they separated?

My first multichapter fic for Vargas! :D Yay!

(Pls read Ch. 1 first - Ch. 2 is also recommended, but as long as you're caught up on the first, you're good to go!)

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Side B

What the fuck.

"It's, it's possible that if, maybe whatever happened earlier, whatever caused all that blood and for us to be knocked unconscious-"

What the fuck.

"-and if I suffered a head injury, then maybe-"

No. That's enough.

Scriabin pushed away from the closet door he'd defensively pressed himself up against and put his hands on Edgar's shoulders, which quieted him. He looked at him expectantly, with eyes that Scriabin somehow only just now realized were casually guarded, curious, uncertain in a way that denoted inexperience. That was so messed up, that was completely wrong. Edgar should've been on guard, absolutely, but only because he knew exactly what Scriabin was capable of. He really didn't want to look at him right now if this was what he was going to be seeing instead.

He spun him quickly and pushed him out the door before he could protest. He got one last look at those wide, confused eyes before he slammed the door behind him, bracing it shut with both hands for good measure.

What. The fuck. His head came forward, making a dull thud as his forehead connected with the door. He doesn't remember me? His fingers curled on the door. What does he mean he doesn't remember me?! How could he not know me?! One hand pushed through his hair; his scalp tingled and that was so weird, he felt it and it was so weird- We literally just- He literally just-! As if pulling him screaming into life wasn't bad enough, now he had decided to play some sick prank!

This can't be true. It's just like him to try and make jokes at the worst possible time, he has no tact.

There was a timid knock on the other side of the door. Scriabin jumped as it resonated through his skull, his elbow, pressed to the door with his hand buried in his hair, set his jaw. Then silence.

If he was really trying to get back in, clear things up, say he was only kidding, he'd actually try.

Nothing.

Scriabin's blood was ice as he went over it again. The way he'd said his name. The vacant look in his eyes as he said it, like his mouth knew its shape but none of the meaning. No fear, no realization, nothing that really felt like Edgar, just sound, just noise.

Maybe he really had-

Oh god. His knees gave out, and his arms had no practice at holding him upright, not yet. His hand slid down the door, his other hand guarding his head as his hair fluffed against the grain.

How could he do this

This is all his fault

Stupid, idiotic

He can't do this to me

I can't believe him

I can't believe this

How dare he leave me alone like this

Thoughts spiralling, and all he could do was hold himself down, press his fingers into the back of his neck, force his chest to his knees and maybe he wouldn't immolate under it all. He was shaking, from tension or fear he couldn't tell, his mind too hazardous and loud to cut through it all. He was shaking, dizzy, and if he moved, letting go would surely kill him.

He can't do this to me.

He breathed. And breathed. And swallowed. Eyes closed, heart pounding, sure. Confusion and dismay, whatever. Pain. Fine. So be it.

This isn't like me. A hand untethered from his vice grip in his hair, and he stayed attached to the floor. It connected with the carpet below him and became a new lifeline. He pushed up and away into a limp sit, arms already burning slightly from holding himself up after all that. He shook his head mildly. This isn't who I'm going to be in life. His body, this fear response be damned, he was in control now.

Regroup. Let's- a mental pause, barely a quarter of a second long as he turned the word in his head. Let's pretend it's all true- what does that mean?

He flopped over, leaned upright with his back against the door, heels of his fists pushed down into the carpet to scootch closer. Moving was so awkward still, very unfitting.

He was acting normal. Well, Edgar's baseline for "normal" had changed considerably, so maybe put an asterisk on that. Not that he was ever normal to begin with, but normal-for-Edgar, -ish. That means he has to have some memory.

Scriabin held out a hand, arm slung over his knee, one finger held out. He had recognized his glasses. One. The apartment. Two. Which key to use. Three. He had said Todd's name. Four.

His stuff can be discounted, he's had all that for a while. Back down to one. The kid is a new fixture. Which means he remembers the last couple months at least. He shook his head and brought his hand up to comb through his hair. Well...it's fuzzy for me, so it probably is for him, too. Scriabin remembered everything in as much clarity as the last couple months allowed, there was no way Edgar would know more even if he had all his memories.

Speaking of which, Scriabin could remember everything. He flipped through; the last two months and bringing Todd in, Edgar's parting words to Johnny, his and Devi's conversation - he grit his teeth - and further back, everything along the way, all the way back. False dreams, shared childhoods, everything that was once Edgar's alone, he still remembered it. Nothing was out of place which made it all the more strange!

This is so fucking weird, if I remember everything, then why would he-

He stopped short. His purported purpose had been to replace Edgar. Take him over completely. If he bought into the conceit for a moment, just to play in the space... He was alive now. That was not as intended; it shouldn't even have been possible.

Did he...give me his memories? Like, all the way? Not just to borrow, to shape him, give him legitimacy - he was alive now. His own person. Separate, embodied, and whole. Was this the price of life?

That's stupid. But possible, he couldn't discount. If this - he brought his hands up and looked down at them, watched himself touch his own chest and felt it beneath his coat, shirt, the nerves firing as his slid his fingers up himself - if this was possible, then...

He continued for a moment, curious and reverant, all of him new and privately exciting, to exist and to touch, to feel, smell, see, all of it clear and fresh and penetrated deeply into his mind, as if a layer of film had been lifted from his senses. The moment passed as the memories, unbidden but important, cluttered in around him again.

There were still a lot of questions, and most of them couldn't be answered without Edgar, ugh. If getting anything out of him before had been like pulling teeth, he was very sobered to think about how it might be now. Depending on how much Edgar remembered, maybe he could start piecing things together.

Did he do it on purpose? Did he know this would happen? There's no way he would have been willing to if he had- But he couldn't ask him things like that. Even if he did remember, admitting something like that...

He was just spinning his wheels at this point. Better to gather what he could from the man himself. He looked up, preparing to stand.

Ah-

The room was still in something of a state.

Edgar would be annoying, or at least distracted by trying to pick up the clothes and uncarefully unpacked items strewn about the floor from Scriabin's very successful excavation of his old glasses. The clutter would have to go if he wanted his full attention.

He grumbled as he pushed off the door to pick up the first few things. First day of life and I'm already his maid. Figures. He's always needed me to clean up after him.

Silence.

Somehow it only just hit him. Thinking alone in the late hours, planning things behind Edgar's back, it was nothing new. But a barb unsunk into his mental flesh was left out in the wide emptiness, poised to stab whoever happened upon it next, and he was the only one here.

He felt very small all of a sudden, and he didn't like it at all.

His eyes blankly scanned the room, looking for nothing, until they settled on the toy at Edgar's bedside. His toy.

He dropped the items he'd bundled into his arms and made his way over. He picked up the small simulacrum, turned it over in his hands once, and stared at it.

He wouldn't know this. Not really. He brushed a thumb up and over the little mouth, the contours of its small face. Retroactively, I've never been this at all.

I'm no one to him.

Does this mean we can start over? The thought struck him like lightning, freezing his heart in his chest. He was fixed solid, staring down at the small figure in his hands.

Before he could even think, he'd already thrown it through the open closet door, landing noisily in the box he'd dug through with a clatter. He grabbed up the fallen clothes and items and stuffed them back in the box, burying the toy in mundane detritus, then closed the cardboard flaps and slammed the door of the closet for good measure.

His breath was laboured and he glared, like wishing it gone would make the closet itself disappear.

Answers. He needed answers, more than anything.

He ripped the door open, and there was Edgar who looked up, staring dumbly back at him and carrying the clothes he'd shed earlier over his arm. Something in his mind clicked over, and he didn't think about it.

"Alright," he caught his breath for half a second, "what do you remember?"

Edgar just kept on staring, mouth open, eyes unconfident behind weak glasses. Scriabin huffed irritably, I don't have time for this, and moved towards him, arm outstretched.

"Come on." Edgar gave a small startled sound behind him as he grabbed his collar and dragged him through the doorway. He threw him across the room, not bothering to watch his arc as he closed the door behind him. The bed was that way, he'd be fine.

When he turned back, Edgar had managed to catch himself, though already halfway on the bed. Scriabin stood with his back to the door, feet planted and he crossed his arms. No more speculating around impossibilities, tangible and present as they might be, it was time for a proper interrogation. It was at least preferable to-

Edgar made a face at him and scooted back, offering a seat next to him on the bed. Equal footing briefly flashed through his mind and while he wouldn't consider it ideal, nothing today was really going his way. He sighed, then made his way over and sat across from Edgar, who was eyeing him with a certain degree of caution. At least the feeling was mutual.

"Spill." He re-crossed his arms and leaned towards Edgar. "What do you know?"

Edgar hesitated, apparently thinking, his hands laced and fingers agitatedly if quietly rubbing the backs of his hands.

"I want to verify some things first."

Scriabin snorted dismissively. Where had Edgar's overly-trusting nature gone? A serial killer, well he's an honoured guest, but Scriabin? He didn't even distrust him for the right reasons.

He gestured with an open hand, Go ahead, then tucked his arm back in.

"Todd's last name?"

Pfsh. At least it was proof enough that anything Edgar knew, Scriabin did as well. As expected.

"Casil. His stupid bear's called Shmee in case you forgot that too." Edgar shook his head. No he hadn't? If only he could just check!

"Do you know our phone number?" Obviously he did, so he rattled it off quickly, Edgar nodding in turn. He flipped his hair in time with the last digit, careful to keep his eyes covered. It was a bit of a timid attempt, being the first in this body, which was a minor blessing he supposed.

Edgar mulled over what he'd given him for a moment, then a moment longer, then a moment even longer. His eyes searched absently, gazing down into his own hand, his other on his chin, lightly thumbing his goatee. He was focused on names and numbers, but those were child's play compared to everything, everything Scriabin still wanted to know. It was frustrating on a visceral level, watching him struggle with such simple innocuous nothings while the most important person in his life was sitting right in front of him.

He was supposed to be the most important.

It was frustrating.

"You really don't remember anything, do you?" He didn't hide the sneer as it shaped his voice - odd the way his body just did that now, did things without him actively thinking them into being. Even things like the little waver that made its way in that he pushed back down and under. He was frustrated, angry, tired - any emotionality could be attributed to those, nothing else.

Edgar didn't answer, just kept his gaze locked to his face. That was almost worse. Watching him fumble through things, it wasn't fun, but at least he wasn't trying to pry. He could see him try to look past his bangs, and the fact that he didn't know better...

Scriabin looked away for a moment, then thought better of it. Best defense is a good offense.

He reached for Edgar's face, for those damn scars, ever-present reminders. Edgar shied away, not wanting to be touched suddenly by someone he didn't know. As if Scriabin had ever cared about that.

Well, things were different now. Maybe he didn't really want to touch him anyway. Not yet.

"Do you remember these...?" Instead he framed his face with his hands less than an inch from his skin, and even there he could feel the heat coming off him. Edgar reached for his face, looking away from Scriabin as he touched the angry red marks. He winced minutely, then glanced back at Scriabin, searching him, his expression guarded again. Scriabin could hear his own pulse in his ears.

"...Johnny?"

"Fuck." Fuck! "Of course you'd remember him but not me." God damn it! It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, just because Johnny came first by a hair's breadth, just because he wasn't in Edgar's head, with Edgar's fucked up little obsession with the murderous stick figure- It limited what he could get away with too, if he remembered that far back. Absolutely nothing was going in his favour.

"I'm sorry..." He sounded genuinely remorseful, and it stuck in his throat. Disgusting. "So you know Johnny, too."

"Unfortunately." Scriabin tucked his chin to his chest, arms crossed again in close proximity. This sucks. Edgar just kept rambling, unaware as ever. His excuses held this time at least, one point in his favour, no points for bringing his annoying habits with him despite everything.

"I don't think I've seen him for a couple months now? Everything's awfully..." He gave a vague gesture and Scriabin uncurled slightly. He was giving him room to contribute. He shook his head.

"You haven't."

"Have you?"

He returned to his tight coil of sulking. Not like he was keen to meet up and chat, but he couldn't explain why he hadn't had the opportunity to either.

"I remember he called, too."

"Ugh," barely above breath. Enough about Johnny! Again, Edgar continued obliviously.

"Although I don't really recall what we talked about, not for a while..."

Of course not. I took over for half of those.

He perked a bit, and Edgar focused more on him, patiently setting his hands in his lap.

"You know."

He could play this to his advantage. Give Johnny some well-deserved karmic justice for fucking him over so many times. It was almost better that Edgar didn't know - Scriabin had been trying to get him away from Johnny all this time, and if he really had forgotten everything, not just the moments when Scriabin took over but every moment they had shared, then that meant it coincided almost perfectly with his first meeting with Johnny. Blank spot after blank spot after blank spot, all lined up immediately after getting his face slashed.

He could work with that.

"It's probably trauma." Edgar startled and his hand shot to his temple, lightly touching his hair.

"Like, head trauma?" Scriabing almost laughed. Yeah, probably that too. But that wouldn't help his case.

"No." He leaned in, taking a more intimate, secretive tone. "Think about it. When did things start getting fuzzy?" If he was right on this - which of course he was, but not being able to verify, not being able to see that he was right, it was disconcerting - but if he was, Edgar's memories of Scriabin should start with that first fateful encounter, give or take. A bit of reframing here, a touch of implication there... It probably wasn't even an outright lie; if Edgar's memory were perfect after experiencing everything Johnny had put them through, that would be some kind of twisted miracle.

His only real concern was their "childhood" - how much had Scriabin pulled with him? Would that throw off his story? But that was so far back, there was no way Scriabin or Johnny could be implicated in that. As long as Edgar didn't bring it up before he thought his way around it...

Edgar stayed quiet for a long while. His eyes raced behind closed eyelids, searching, scanning, retracing - Scriabin could almost see the moments where he hesitated, stopped and went back, then starting recollecting again. He wished he could see it for real, watch him unfold himself, touch those memories again, hold up his own in contrast. Even just hear Edgar's thoughts as they went by, feel the emotions he felt. But he couldn't, so he just stared as unblinkingly as this new body would allow, just watched as Edgar went over everything on his own.

He finally opened his eyes, staring back into Scriabin's though he was sure they were still hidden. He felt naked and awkward and Edgar still hadn't said anything. If he could just see like he was supposed to, or if Edgar would just tell him, he wouldn't have to ask. I have to do everything around here.

"It was after you met him, wasn't it?"

"You think it's...mental trauma?" An unspoken 'yes.' Relief flooded him, and he pushed ahead.

"Edgar. He stabbed you." Edgar gripped his shoulder, his eyes closing again and he looked to be in pain. That was a very effective reminder at least. "Do you even know why?" He shook his head and spoke throught half-grit teeth.

"I must have made him mad, but I don't remember-" Of course not, I did that.

"Your mind is trying to protect you." Not. But one of us has to with your inexhaustable deathwish. Scriabin reached out to touch him properly, but Edgar pulled away. He didn't follow, still not yet. Play up the pity. "He messed you up so bad," with a curl in his tone, an I told you so that barely made it to words even privately; how long had he been holding that in? "Surely you must've felt like you wanted, you needed to get away from him, that he wasn't good for you, that you-" He'd told him so many times, some it must have stuck, some of it had to have-

"Then-!" Edgar's eyes shot open, wide and desperate with an edge of disbelief. A strangled gasp escaped him, half-choking him as he tried to speak. "Then why can't I remember you?!"

He almost began rolling off the cuff, but really, he still didn't know for sure. And it definitely wasn't like he could tell the truth even if he wanted to; who, who hadn't lived it, would believe him? Edgar certainly wouldn't, not with his lack of imagination. He had to dress this up, weave a narrative that was plausible, had the perfect mix of truth and falsehood to stand up to scrutiny.

Huh. Ironic.

"I..." No. Some of this was Edgar's fault too. "We...argued."

"Argued?"

"I... Mng." He wanted to aim for some kind of levity, but his throat had tightened on him. He just wanted to tell this stupid inside joke and not have it affect him, not have it mean anything, and here he was getting emotional? He'd say it and fucking mean it. "It's not like I'm in your head, so-" spat out in a rush, there, he'd said it. Haha, isn't that so funny. He swallowed harshly, pushing down everything he felt into his stomach acid. He was in control. He was fine. This didn't shake him. "I can't know for sure," another humourless laugh inside, "but I was against your relationship with Johnny. Maybe you shut me out so you could keep seeing him with no pushback."

It certainly wasn't outside the realm of possibilities of what Edgar would do to avoid taking Scriabin's extremely basic advice about fraternizing with serial killers. How many times had he been ignored up to this point, only to culminate in the ultimate 'I don't know what you're talking about.' Pfeh. I bet he wishes he'd thought of this sooner. It did nothing for his painfully stuttered pulse.

"You know, I've been trying to convince you to stop going back to him for a while, but, well..." He waved his hand at Edgar's hand still death gripped into his shoulder, and Edgar averted his eyes guiltily. At least he showed some remorse. Better than his nigh constant apologia.

He stayed quiet a moment longer, and just before Scriabin made to fill the silence again, Edgar struck him with an intense look.

"What are you to me?" Ugh. Of course. There was not a single good answer for that. Even if he told him everything- no, especially if he told him everything, there was no way Edgar would believe him. But coming up with a convincing lie on the spot, when they were so clearly something to each other - even he needed time to come up with something workable. How could he have ever prepared for a situation like this? It was never meant to happen, so many things were never meant to happen!

He continued at Scriabin's silence. "You know Nny," Ugh! Even his awful nickname. "And Todd. And...me." He couldn't refute it, so he nodded tightly. "Do you live here?"

Technically he had, and technically he hadn't. Still, going forward, it would be easier to let Edgar assume that he did. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go at the moment anyway.

"Yes."

"Are we..." He searched him, looked him over as much as he could and he wasn't subtle about it. If only Scriabin had his proper glasses, he'd let him look as much he wanted, behold his spectacle! As it was, he just felt self-conscious and it was very unbefitting. "...family?"

The baggage on that. He did not feel like opening that particular can of worms in either of their current states. He turned his head and flipped through any number of halfway decent ways to phrase it until he hit on something Edgar would remember. Better not to contradict for now.

"You told Johnny you have no family when you met."

"That's true..." Edgar blinked, processing. "Wait, did I tell you that?" Scriabin startled. Even after he'd accounted for his memory! Of course he had to pick his story apart now, he never knew when to leave well enough alone.

"When you-" No, he had to be involved. "When we bandaged your face."

Edgar mulled on that for a few seconds, taking on a thoughtful pose. "I only remember being alone."

"You don't remember me at all. What do you want from me?" He huffed.

"No, sorry, you're right."

"Thank you." He was right!

Where had Edgar expected him to be? There was something weird about how he'd said it. He filed the thought away for later.

"So, if you've been living here, where..." Edgar looked around the room, then back to Scriabin. "Where have you been sleeping? Todd's already on the couch..."

Scriabin couldn't help as a smile sprung to his face. If he was going to present him with such a perfect opportunity, well, he'd better take it. He even had the decency to look nervous in response! This was too good.

"Would you believe me if I said right here, in bed?" He again tucked his chin, playfully this time, his hair falling further in his eyes. Even through the dark tangles he could make out Edgar's face immediately bristling with heat.

Ooh. That's such a fetching shade on you, my dear.

"But-! I, I haven't been sleeping on the floor!" He was visibly sweating!

"Correct." His smile grew. This was too easy, and he needed an easy win right about now.

"W-" He leaned forward on his legs, though refused to get any closer. When he spoke it was a harsh whisper. "Why...?"

Scriabin shrugged easily, not bothering to reign in his smile in the least. "I mean, where else, right?" He leaned in since Edgar refused to, and oh. He was blushing all the way up to his scalp. Hilarious. "You certainly didn't seem to mind." He couldn't hold back the slightly musical tone or his eyebrows inclination to move on their own. His body knew what he was getting at, and he could see it only increased Edgar's fluster. All the better.

"Well I do now!" Edgar darted up and away, stumbling in his hasty retreat. "If you'll excuse me!" though he was already practically in the hallway by the time he said it. What a display, and Scriabin's laugh was loud and natural.

Finally, something positive. He'd managed to fumble his way through, not his best work in lying or manipulation, but he'd set some important groundwork. He'd gotten some answers, and he could start to shape some more believable stories around them.

The biggest hurdles were Johnny and Devi. As long as Edgar didn't meet with them too soon - or well, at all would be preferable, but he doubted he could just keep him locked up, as much as the idea appealed to him. There were so many things that were possible now, things that he had the ability to do, given the right circumstances... All of that in due time. For now he had a yarn to spin.

He listened as Edgar fumbled in the hall, the sheer sound of cloth being pulled and folded over an arm barely perceptable. Was he really going to try to sleep on what little was left over? Maybe he'd give up once he realized the pickings were thin and beg Scriabin to let him sleep with him. Hah.

While he was out, Scriabin made his way over to the pajamas drawer. They were all old and soft, even just to his hand. They'd do for now, until he could get his own. It wasn't like he hadn't worn all this before anyway.

By the time he'd finished dressing, his clothes discarded on the opposite side of the bed to where Edgar had set up his little nest, Edgar had finally gotten himself a set of pajamas. He wondered for a moment if he'd dress with Scriabin in the room again, though maybe his intense stare drove him off. Who could say. He patted the bed with a wide grin when he returned and was dutifully ignored. He settled down to the side, and Scriabin laid on his arms to look down at him.

"Ugh, lame."

"I don't-"

"Yeah, whatever." He'd heard it all before. At least he could literally look down on him like this. He folded his hands and leaned just a bit further, looking him over. A desire he hadn't realized he had surfaced in the dark and quiet. "Give me your hand."

"Sorry?" Scriabin held out his hand expectantly.

"I used to hear your heart beat every day." Edgar looked at him incredulously, but Scriabin was unperturbed. "Let me hear it again."

He hesitated but eventually slowly offered his arm. "...Okay."

He pulled his arm up and placed his thumb against his wrist. He felt a strange mismatch - where he'd been expecting one heartbeat, there were two. He covered his surprise, near shock at the realization that of course he had his own body now, by pulling harder on Edgar's arm, directing him up to his ear.

"Wh-"

"Shh." Quietly. He had wanted this, wanted this body, this separation, this freedom for so long, and now... He spoke quietly, his voice betraying nothing. "I'm listening."

Edgar's pulse was erratic, but he hardly paid attention to it. His own fingers on Edgar's skin, warm and pliant, and Edgar's fingers twitching in his hair, he could feel it, he was trying not to touch him- This hesitation was killing him, every jerky movement away not from fear of what Scriabin could do to him, just uncertainty, like he was still a stranger- He pressed him harder to his head, and he could feel goosebumps under his fingers. He wanted to just hold him there until all the memories they'd shared poured back through him, into his blood, into his breath.

Where are you?

But he replied in that same uncertain, guarded tone that indicated he didn't know, not really.

"C...can I have my arm back now?"

He pushed him away. "Fine." Edgar curled his hand protectively against his chest, and he noticed he rubbed it slightly, he probably hadn't even realized.

He mumbled out a harried "Good night," and it was almost enough to make Scriabin smile. Almost. He could still affect him but this wasn't enough, it wasn't right.

He laid his head on the pillow, not bothering to pull his arm up over the side of the bed. If he twitched in the night and touched Edgar, well, that could mean anything. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he did it on purpose. Plausible deniability was one of his greatest assets.

As it was, he was just tired. Maybe he didn't pull it back because he hated the thought of sleeping alone, pushed out and forgotten, and hated it more that he was even thinking something like that. How pathetic. He didn't need anyone, especially not Edgar.

But he was tired. Not in his right mind.

Does this mean we can start over...?

The thought echoed and died, and he slept.

#💟#Fanfiction #Blank Slate AU #Edgar #Scriabin #Todd #Shmee #He's technically in there but once again no speaking lines :P Yet anyway lol #It's fanfic time again! I fell into yet another writing fugue and finished Chapters 1 and 2 in like four days lol #If you'll notice tho ♪ Neither of those chapters are featured under the cut :3c Pls do read Ch. 1 at least to get caught up before diving in #This one took a bit longer but that'd be because it's Almost as big as both previous chapters combined lol #I'll update it to the chapter list in a few days! Y'all get a preview here :D It'll be the same there with slightly different formatting #Decided to try something new since tumblr doesn't normally allow underlines but it's very important to Scriabin's syntax #I promise they're all just links to the first chapter lol - you're welcome to check but I promise I didn't put a sneaky link anywhere lol #My one gripe is that it doesn't look as good on-blog :/ Fine on the dash! But I'm not willing to sacrifice the dark colouration on the links #Italics were chosen as the only light feature for a reason ♪#I mean at least it's not Bolded lol I'll take it #These were a lot of fun to write so far ahhh <3 I've been wanting to dig a little deeper for a long while now!#I mentioned this idea offhandedly in the tags of Incoming Outgoing but ahhh it's very rewarding to put to words :D #Fun Fun Fun

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bloogers-boogers · 1 year

Text

So I've been getting into the sp fandom lately and let me tell u it's a must for me to do a one-shot.. It's gonna be a good attempt

One-shot SP

/CURSE/

(Kinda shipping? (Kyle/Cartman) Kinda trying to replicate the imagination land scene where Kyle dies an other various scenes, Cartman(important for the plot),Cartman and Kenny lore,some Stan against, and death of a main character. Kenny plays a role, also y'know death and resurrection that's he's thing.. right?)

It a pretty damn long One-shot.

It's been a common day in the little mountain town of Colorado called south park, Randy had arranged a parade/party at one of the most popular places in town 'DikinBaus' because of some festive weed special (trying to make it seem out of the ordinary weed when it comes to the same shit with a diffrent label) that Stan Marsh and his three other friends would care less about, well, atleast one. Eric Cartman.

Yes, the little evil master mind of south park.

Bitch was angry and quite bitter about the fact that his old home was no longer his, after being part of creating it's popularity. Though he did deserve it and his jewish friend made it know.

"I don't know why you're so pissed off, Cartman, you we're asking for it when you took advantage of Butters hard work," The latter roll his eyes.

"Whatever, it's Butters," He stated, as if it were obvious.

"Dude, just be grateful you got your old house back," Stan tune in, his tone was a little bit frustrated then it should've, luckily his fat friend payed not much attention to it. He wished he could move back, be close to his friends, have his old life back. But his father was farther than an idiot to just let go of his marijuana dream.

"How am I gonna be grateful about losing my DikinBaus!?," He exclaimed angry. Kenny, their blonde friend snorted, "shut up Kinny!."

"C'mon man, it's not a big deal," He patted the bigger boy's shoulder in hopes he'll just moved on from the subject. But ofcourse, he didn't.

"No! I can't leave it like this with out a fight!, I work hard for that shitty place to reopen, it's not fair!," He clenched he's fist, glaring at the nothing.

Both three boys just looked at each other, in a mutual agreement of not getting involved.

Later that day, Stan was forced to partake in the event host by his father, ofcourse not before arguing and complaining about it being just another waste of the income they made, for then later on his father to complain about how they had no money for more resources. Repeat all the time. Stan just hold the bridge of his nose outta frustration.

No boy his age should be this stress out for his parents doings, in this scenario, his dad.

"Hey Stan, check this out!," Exclaimed excited, Randy. The boy followed him, as he has no other choice but to listen.

"What the fuck is that," Stan questioned a little horrified, confused? He couldn't tell, cause he actually gave two shits. But this looked outta the ordinary of the ordinary. If that even makes sense.

There was a seagull looking mutation with what it seems like a rats feet. For a second there he was worried his father accidentally caught man bear pig's kid.

"It's the Tergrity farms mascot!," He exclaimed even more excited taking out a board outta nowhere, explaining his new strategy.

Oh. So that's that.

"Yeah, bye," said lastly, in a flat tone, no longer caring about the rest before returning outside.

Stan was not gonna get involved, no matter how bizarre and crazy his dad's Karen episodes get, he told himself for the millionth time that same day. He was NOT getting involved.

[...]

"For fuck sake dad! What did you do!?," He shouted confused by the change of event, being tied in a chair was far from the plans he had for this evening.

"Uh.. well, let's say it a TEGRITY strategy," Randy smiled commercially, clearly seems nervous. Clearly fucked up. The latter frowned from that response.

Stan sighed, "okay. What did you do," he asked again, finally had calm himself and processed the situation he's in. No pizza night at Tolkien's tonight he said to himself.

"Well, remember my mascot?,"

He nodded, ofcourse he did, it all happened today.

"Well turns out he's like, related to chutulu."

Stan wanted to grip his nose outta frustration again, so bad, after hearing that, "what?," he asked again. As he couldn't believe that thing was related to.. unfuckin' believable. Actually it was definitely believable.

"Yeah, I don't know how'd it happened but he found out and wanted to massacre me and my farm, can you believe that! I even offered some of my weed," said exhausted while having a pout face as a child being scolded.

"Okay, so how the hell did we end up being tied up?."

"Stan, there's a bunch of cult members in south park," he stated obviously while he rolled his eyes by being questioned this much. But he still bother to answer, "those motherfuckers knew chutulu wanted us so they found us, knocked us and tied us up, as their way of worship. We're pretty much a sacrifice."

"But why me!?," he stated bitterly as he was NOT trying to get involved today.

"Because you are, Stan! I told you about my strategy did I!?."

"I left!?."

They bicker a bit more before Stan decided to speak out for a solution.

"Look, I think, I have a plan. You know Cartman?."

"Your fat friend? What about him?."

"Well, he manipulated chutulu to join he's superheroe team awhile ago. Thing is, if we get Cartman, maybe he can help us."

"Isn't he like, a dick?."

"It's complicated. Let's just find a way outta of these ropes."

"Easy." Randy picked out of his pocket shirt with his mouth some weed and light it up with his feet and a lighter he had in his pants. And burned the ropes. He then untied him.

"You could've done that all this time!?," exclaimed baffled by his father's stupidity once again.

"No time Stan!," he said while he ran into the depths of the woods with the boy following behind.

Yes, they were in the woods. Let's move on.

[...]

Kenny found himself running like a mad man, he did not mean to provoke the dark lord, but he did. He just wanted answers about his curse! Was that too much to ask?

But here he was, regretting kicking one of those big claws of him after being bluntly ignored by chutulu, it seems it was looking for something. He assumed it was Cartman as he couldn't link the others with it. That fat fuck. What did he do!?

He couldn't bare die today as he was not aware how far chutulu would detroy the town by tomorrow. He needs to know why it's here, and ofcourse, his curse! Cause it seemed no one cares besides himself! Fuck!

He dodge one of chutulu lasers that ended destroying a car near by.

He hid in one of the markets from town, as if that's gonna make a difference. Then he saw him. That fat fucker! He was with Kyle and Butters in the meat section. Both seemed to be arguing about something while the blonde hold a riffle nervously watching the two, he'd care less right now about whatever those two were arguing about.

"You son of a bitch!," He slammed cartman into one of the freezer, Cartman looked at him with opened feared eyes, "what did you do!?."

"K-kinny..!?."

"Woah, dude, calm down," said, Kyle, "what's going on?."

" 'What's going on?'," he responded incredulous, "chutulu's out there destroying the town and killing countless souls! That's what going on!."

"Oh," Butters said not being so stoked about it.

"Yeah, we kinda know that, asshole," the brunette said casually loosing his grip.

"Eric thinks that chutulu may be here because of a mission," Butters explained.

"Oh really," the blonde said sarcastically eyeing him, "Cartman why the fuck did you summon chutulu here!? Do you know all the damage you've done."

"Excuse me? I didn't do shit, kinny!," Cartman exclaimed offended, by being accused so surely.

Yeah, he has committed various, and I mean, VARIOUS crimes, but he did NOT do this. Though he must admit to himself that this turn of events could be convenient for him to destroy DikinBaus. As no one in this stupid town does not deserve such a wonderful magnificent place. That HE made. And as such rightly deserves it and rightly could destroy it if he wanted to, right?

"Like I'm gonna believe whatever shit comes from your mouth, fatso," Kenny stated.

"It's true." Kyle spoke up, "what Cartman said.. look, I've been following this asshole since he said he was gonna try to do something about that dumb hotdog place, so, I followed him around-"

"Like and stalker," bluntly added Cartman.

"And-" Kyle continued, ignoring cartman's comment before frowning, "the only thing he's done is shit on Butter's porch and purchasing 200 hotdogs in hopes DikinBaus will run out and shut down. Which is the most ridiculous thing I've ever witnessed–"

"Oh c'mon, Kyel it was brilliant!," Cartman defended his stupidity, "it's easy an effective! I buy all the hotdogs, open my own stand and start a business," finalizing while crossing his arms. Kyle look at him angrily.

Nobody will question where he got the money to pay for all those hotdogs. Most likely in a fraudulent way. Whatever it doesn't matter.

"You ate all the hot dogs, fatass!!."

Cartman frown finding a better comeback, "well..! Atleast I have hot dogs!."

"What?," Kyle responded simply with one eyebrow upward.

"Tsch, whatever. I have a new better plan that I won't be sharing to either of you assholes."

Kenny, snapped. He had enough of this bullshit.

"Guys! Chutulu!?."

"Oh yeah, yeah," Cartman had his arms up. A freaked Kenny is a scary Kenny, "uh, what about him?," he added.

"Really?," he asked again incredulously, not waiting for an answer he continued, "something or someone must have summon the dark lord. We need to find a solution to get him out."

"Dude, that's chutulu. Even if we wanted to do something what can we do about it?," Kyle added skeptical.

"Yeah, it's not like this shitty town deserves to be saved anyways," Butters stated, still a little bitter about having to spend community service cleaning the mess the towns people made just cause he was seen as a sex offender for pinching a girl who he thought had no green on San Patrick's day!

"Well. Cartman?," Kenny asked staring deeply into Cartman's eyes. For some odd reason he felt a connection with the boy. As if his eyes had a glint of something.. he just couldn't recall what it was.

"How would I know?," Cartman asked confused, and kinda annoyed that he hasn't even started his plan B because of an overdramatic Kenny.

"You manipulated chutulu you fat fuck! Do it again," He exclaimed frustrated of the whole thing now looking at the other boys. He's finding all of these unnecessary scenarios being unfold overwhelming. Nobody seems to care, nobody seems to care about chutulu destroying south park, maybe he doesn't care!?

He sigh. Maybe he really doesn't. Maybe all this is an excuse to find out about his curse shield with the idea of being heroic. Screw that. He cared! This town may be fucked up but it was his home! Our home! They must care!

"Okay, I got a plan," Kenny stated finally after a brief silence.

[...]

Cartman found himself frowning angrily standing in the middle of the street, in a kitty costume. He would've rather just picked his coon costume but Kenny stated it'd be more effective and he was definitely trying to mess with him once again, cause he found it hilarious.

Stupid kinny.

The other three boys were hiding behind a dunked car near by him. Not like it'd make a difference. Always put Cartman in the more risky messy situations! Ofcourse he was convinced with a reward if things goes well, not because he's scared of Kenny and he was being a pussy! It was the reward he was promised of!

He heard Kenny snicker a bit, stupid kinny. He finds this amusing didn't he!? Asshole.

He then was faced with the giant dark lord with each step the ground rumble and the buildings breaking and weakening by him.

He gulped. He's done this before, he can do it again. Why is he nervous this time?

Both pair of eyes met. Time for action.

"Miaw Miaw! If it isn't one of my best pals! Miaw miaw!," he then climbed in one of chutulu's feet to his head. My gawd he deserves a reward for this acting. He then pursued on scratching the lord's head as he enjoyed the sensation of the fake claws on his skull, "who's my precious chutulu?," he then added a purr distracting the giant.

The three boys started preparing the trap they had made while upon seeing cartman's manipulation was once again, working. That fucking fatass.

Kyle was trying to knot the rope to one of the polls light but end up falling backwards in the sight of chutulu, who immediately put it's attention on the redhead. Great, just fucking wonderful.

Chutulu immediately turned his attention to Kyle and growled once knowing damn well this was set up.

"Dammit jew!," Cartman shouted making it more obvious that this in fact was, indeed a setup.

'Twack!'

Chutulu looked behind him as he had felt a tiny rock hit his tail.

"Stan?," Kyle said confused. Once Stan and his dad we're visible with some hunting gear on and some guns in there hands.

This was not going as plan. And once again Kenny sigh frustrated. He wasn't sure if the new pair of characters were a good thing or not. He's gonna let it slide this time.

Randy slowly approached chutulu leaving behind Stan, who just cautiously watched.

He then took out a weird mutant goose rat thing from behind his right arm.

Chutulu raised a brow. If that's even possible, but it was. Ofcourse it was.

Chutulu looked down as the mutant thingy went to his side rubbing himself against it's feet. It was heartwarming if it weren't for the situation they were put for and who it was. Then Chutulu did the imaginable, he squashed it.

Stan and Randy looked stoked.

"Well that does it," said Randy.

Both Marshes mouth agape, still looking at chutulu and now dead corpse.

And in splits seconds Kenny put himself in front of the two, standing in front of chutulu embracing his blonde hair exposing his face, he had taken his parka off. Glaring at the monster above. He have had enough.

"What am I?," he asked once more, "answer me now!."

"What's with this one?," Randy side eyed Stan, as he shrugged in response. Confused also.

Chutulu ignored him and approached Randy. Which jolted a bit nervous as he did not figure out what he did to anger the creature. If it wasn't his mascot than what?

He lowered his face to the man and quickly head bunked him to the side, hitting his body through a store window breaking into pieces.

"Dad!!," Exclaimed Stan, rushing in hurry to his father's aid. Noneless a idiot but still his idiot.

"Ow! I'm okay Stan.." the injured man reassured.

In a blink of an eyes the military had showed up and started attacking chutulu, bullets in and out angering the creature, he had put himself on it's feet again trying to block the bullets and attacking the attakers, Cartman still on the dark lord's head completely taken off guard as he was distracted with the dialog was then shot in the back 'ow!' falling off chutulu's head straight to the ground. He had broked his limbs and neck during impact. This anger chutulu even more, as for him kitty Cartman was like a pet.

Kyle and his other two friends had witnessed it. As he shouted, "¡Cartman!," he ran towards him caring less of the chaos around him.

"Fuck, he killed Cartman!," Kenny exclaimed as he approached the now what appears dead boy.

'There's no way'.

"Holy fuck!," said Stan from a far, he was still on his father's side but had witnessed it aswell.

Kyle was next to him analyzing the boy's wounds as he couldn't believe it.

"He's dead.." says Butters while having his mouth slightly agape standing next to Kenny watching the now corpse.

"You bastard.." whispered Kenny, he was staring at his so called best friend, lifeless eyes. It was definitely an odd sight.

"He can't be dead.." Kyle reassured griping into the boy's costume, "he just can't," he frowned.

Stan had already approached the scene as his father seem to had been well standing up not as injured.. or in this scenario dead.

He was also as stoked as the two other boys that were just standing there watching there fat friend laying there. Kyle was the only one on the ground gripping on to Cartman as if he didn't want to let go.

Kyle stared at him for a bit longer than he expected, his body had lost color, his half lidded lifeless eyes staring at him and his hands were cold.. this can't be happening. Cartman can't die. That's not possible!

Kyle with both his fist hit his friend's chest as hard as possible, anger. So much anger!

"Cartman! Can't! Die!," hitting him more times with no intention, it just felt right.

"Woah, dude," Stan put a hand on his best friend's shoulder trying to calm him down he's never seen his friend act this way. And to be honest he never expected to see Cartman this way either. Lifeless.

Kyle smacked Stan's hand off him still in disbelief.

"¡Cartman! Cartman!," he shouted almost in a cry, desperation in his voice," you fat fuck! Wake up!," he again hit as many times as he could, in the dead one's chest.

"Dude, Kyle.. he's gone," Stan said in the most pity voice. As if he could feel what Kyle felt.

"No he's bullshittin' he's fucking bullshitting, Stan!," He said almost as he's trying to believe it himself, he felt himself shake, his eyes felt watery.

A big thump caught their attention leaving the other boy kneeled to the other not leaving his side. He could now care less about that fucking dark lord and this stupid chaotic town!

"You fat fuck...!" he whispered more to himself as he closed his eyes and clenched his fist.

He may hate Cartman, and may have countless times told him that's he's better off being dead. But he really didn't mean it. If Randy can be alive, if Garrison can be alive, if man bear pig can be alive.. then why can't him? It's only fair. Two of those people he mentioned are assholes in there own fucked up way, but have done countless crimes and gotten away of being a dick atleast man bear pig is a wild satanic creature it makes sense if he kills thousands of lives. But those two other bastards are here! Free, alive.. So can Cartman!

"Cartman..?," he said choked as he felt steaming tears fall down his cheeks as he watched his fat friend laying down breathless, no bicker response. No insults. Nothing but flat silence from his part. His death even seems painful, not the typical peaceful dead look, just plain painful.

[...]

As the day ended things went back to normal as per usual, well almost.

Kenny never thought he'd find himself sitting in a funeral of one of his best friends. It was always the way around. For some reason it felt wrong. That he was supposed to be in that box and not his friend.

His mother crying on the side of the casket while some of the south park parents tried to comfort her, but failed. As she was never that close to them anyways. Besides, deep inside she knew no one would fully understand what she feels as she knows her son wasn't the best of person's. And that probably there were people from this town who'd want this or asked for this. But she? She saw the evil in him and had gotten tired of his stupid schemes but that was still her little boy and she will always be his mother. And that won't ever change, so the pain will always remain there. And everyone else was an hypocrite in her eyes.

The four boys remain silent, listening to the ceremony behold them. Yes four boys, as for now that Cartman would no longer partake in their group they added Butters in his place.

"So, do I like have to act like an asshole now?," Butters asked grabbing their attention.

"Uh no?," Stan answered.

"Well if I'm gonna take Eric's place I think I should like try to act like him, like when you guys once choose Clyde because he was the second fat boy of our class..?"

"No Butters, you don't have to act like Cartman," Stan stated now a little annoyed, this wasn't the place or time to discuss something like this when their friend hasn't still been buried. It kinda stings.. this feels fresh. It is fresh. Who knew this fat fuck would affect him?

"Are you sure?."

"For fuck sake Butters, shut up!," Kyle exclaimed angrily, receiving a couple of odd stares from some of the other people there. He cared less to be honest. He clenched his fist as he wanted so bad to punch his face and beat him up. As he'd normally just do with Cartman. Cartman..

Cartman, Cartman, Cartman..

He looked down to his feet avoiding his friends gaze.

[...]

Two days have pass, and honestly this Butters thing just wasn't working. Stan wondered if he truly would prefer having Cartman back than having to witness a whimp like Butters attempt to be a douchebag loser. Don't get him wrong, Butters can be a douchbag but he can't get into Cartman's level. Even if he tries to be. Maybe that's what Butters doing wrong? He's attempting to be someone he's not when he can easily be himself as a douche. But still, not Cartman.

For much of Stan's surprise, south park still hasn't changed a bit after his friend's passing. It's still chaotic, and bizarre. And as hard to admit it even feels longer and even torturous. New characters appear here and there, some were dicks, others were plain awful, some just bland boring ass people. He couldn't believe it, he's actually starting to miss him, as these other characters just feel forced to continue continuity when it's just full filling!

It's just two days. Two fucking days. He's been longer than that with out seeing his fat friend and he's okay with it, even thankful, and yet knowing he won't ever be seeing him because he's dead just changes things.

Let's not even talk about Kyle. Out of the the three. Yes, he's not counting Butters. Fuck Butters!

Kyle has been the most affected. Ofcourse he also has to witness the cringey attempts of their idiotic blonde friend, trying to become his new "arch-rival" as that comes in the packaging of being Eric Cartman. Including being a selfish, manipulative piece of shit. Anyways, point is, to be Eric Cartman you must also hate Kyle Brofloski. And Butters just doesn't have it in him to fully hate on someone or just give him the time of day Cartman would normally do daily, actually obsessively to Kyle.

So here he was, on one of the seats of the school buss behind Kenny and Butters, hearing Butters trying to bicker Kyle. It really feels surreal.

"So, Kayl."

"It's 'Kahl', if you're trying to mimic Cartman atleast do it right," he responded back with an added eye roll at the end.

"Well, geezz.. I mean Ay! Shut up you dumb jew! I'll do and say what I want, whenever I want!."

Well, now that's actually better. Stan actually had to repressed a laugh cause he actually found that funny.

"Wow, Butts you're getting better," complimented Kenny.

Butters beamed and stared at Kyle, who silently watch another kid entering the bus. He really did not bothered putting his attention on the blonde.

"C'mon Kyle, you must admit that was pretty good," He tune in, trying to get Kyle to loosen up.

"Yeah.. I suppose," Kyle then looked up at Butters while the other just looked back nervously. Kyle sigh, "can you fight?" he then added with a glint of mischief while the other two boys stared at Kyle, confused for the sudden change in demeanor. Butters looked a little uncertain on what to answer.

As he should, this is Kyle we're talking about.

"O-ofcourse I do!," In fact, Butters does know how to fight, just not Kyle, never Kyle.

"Great, meet me up after school in the playground," said finalized while standing up to get off the bus.

"Ah geez.." Stan heard Butters whispered before getting off the bus to join his friend.

He didn't know what Kyle had planned, but he sure wants to find out.

[...]

"Oh geez! I don't think I can be Cartman no more!," exclaimed Butters with a couple of bruises in his face, tired, "Kyle was beating me up like a butcher to its meat selection!."

"Well that is Cartman's job to deal with y'know," Stan added. He figured this must be a way for Kyle to get rid of Butters. So he followed along.

"Yeah dude, if you're gonna be Cartman. You must know that you have to become Kyle's personal punching bag," Kenny tune in, actually enjoying the laugh. He knew we were all messing with him. Cause in fact, it seems Stan was not the only one bothered by Scotch.

"Oh Jesus!."

"Man, actually I do believe you can become Cartman, even better. As you seem to be more capable of taking Kyle's moods," yeah, we can be assholes sometimes. Stan smiled a bit.

"Oh boy.." he was not liking what he was hearing. Before adding anything further Kyle approached the group, tuning in with a happy humming.

"Hey there guys," he then glared at Butters, "Butters."

"AHHHHHH!!!," He scream while dashing out of there before adding, "Screw you guys I'm going home!."

"Well, that does it," Kyle shrugged.

"Guess no one can deal with you more than a day," Kenny added.

"I guess so."

"So now what?," Stan questioned. Everything just went silent.

Normally Cartman would suggest some stupid shit, we'd shit on first before following through with it. But even the substitute bailed on us, so we must figure it out on our own.

"Board games..?," Ken then added.

"Nah, done that yesterday," Kyle replied, tapping his foot on the ground, kinda impatient, kinda bored.

"What about basketball," Stan suggested. Once again the three boys remain silent. The wind whistling in their ears as they thought harder and the space between them felt thicker as they become smaller. And smaller, and smaller..

"Who wants to try summoning Cartman with a ouija?," Kenny added plainly, while pursuing on leaving the area to his place, with the certainly the others would followed.

In fact, not only did they follow, they were eager for it.

[...]

-In Hell-

"Dammit! no barbecue at sight in the most hottest place between three worlds!," Cartman exclaimed baffled.

He's been a hell citizen for two days now, and it has sucked. He isn't even allowed to go in the cool clubs cause he was a minor and would be forever be one for eternity! He did enjoy the public torture that was embrace there but besides that, nothing too outta the ordinary he could see up in south park.

He sigh, not knowing what to do, with out his friends to annoy, death feels empty. Boring as fuck! He wants to get outta here!

When he approached a counter were there were two men talking about some country song while drinking martinis, he decided to sit next to them. They immediately stayed quiet as his presence disturb them. 'Dumb bitches' he thought.

"So... how can we get out?," he asked.

"Excuse me?,"

"Yeah, like how do we get out from hell."

"Oh, why the hell do you want to get out?."

"Because it's boring as fuck, i want to live!."

"Well, he is young, George," one of the men side eyed his companion. The other nodded in agreement.

"Well there's no way, young boy," one of the men answered, I'll call him number two. Pftt, number two, get it? Hahaha! He repressed a laugh and continued trying to get more information outta the two grown men.

"Okay, but like there must be atleast someone who COULD know a way outta here, right?," he digged.

"Hmm.." number one begin thinking, pftt.. number one, "actually I believe there is."

Getting the boy's attention, he leaned forward as if it'd help him hear them any better. They were both drunk as fuck. For what it appears. Their talk was all gibberish, but 'anything to get out of here' he said to himself.

"You should look for the 'dark red soul'."

"The 'dark red soul'..?," he murmured.

"Yup, he lives in the coast side, just follow the direction signs and go to the yellow hotel. And just ask for him, someone must know where exactly he lives at, he's quite a party goat," number two explained chugging the bit of martini he had left.

So that, he did, he followed the directions signs that lead him to hotel 'jak n off' it was yellow, that's all he cared about. This asshole better know how to get out or he'll make sure he'll make himself a new bowl of chili.

[...]

"Oh, looking for red man?."

"Sure? Is that dark red soul?," he asked not very sure if it's the same guy he was told of.

"Yeah, that's his party animal name. Follow me."

'Tch, lame.' But he did follow. This tall freckle man took him to a long dark alleyway, he was feeling skeptical at first but then remembered he couldn't die if he was already dead. It's like respawn. Sigh. He remembered when he first came here, he fell in some spikes down a lava-fall (waterfall) he also remembered how painful it was but how quick he repawn back. So all is new.

The man enter a dark room and turn on the lights.

"Yeesh!!," some rookie exclaimed angrily as he was caught in a very peculiar position with a lady friend. Both naked.

"The fuck man!?," the red head turned his gaze down looking at the chubby boy.

His eyes widen as the latter.

"Dad..?" his mouth slightly agape. He couldn't fucking believe it. Out of all things. Out of all people. It was him.

Back then he would've dreamt of finding his dad, feeling complete and happy. But once he knew about what the town hid from him what HE hid from him, he just became bitter with the idea of ever having a father figure in the picture. He figured it would've weakened him and it was for the best to had never encountered or meet him. Cause he hates feeling weak. Cause he isn't.

They both looked at each other for a long brief silent second.

The other two people that were in the room left them, well more like the other dude stole his companion.

"Uh.. 'dark red soul'..?" he added, uncertain what to say. The boy felt his legs wobble and his lip twitch. While the older man had his left eye twitch instead.

"Yeah.." Jack answered quietly.

They were both put in a very awkward situation.

"..Eric huh?.." He then added when he received no answer. He wasn't use to having someone who didn't listen to him. Noneless a son who doesn't. Scott was always so eager to answer him even with the most smallest things. Man, he really missed his boy.

"You know my name?," the boy answered too quickly than he expected. He cough nervously, "ofcourse you do, I'm Eric Cartman," he boost his ego. More like a cover up of his insecurities at the moment.

Jack lighten up a bit at the comment. Indeed he knew about the trouble maker he was, well the trouble in general, everyone in south park knew. The son of a single crackhead whore mother, a whore he slept with.

"I see you're quite a confident one," he said cheeky before nudging the boy.

Cartman jolted by that action. Skepticism was basically like his middle name. That type of gesture is uncalled for and unnecessarily. And it made him feel uneasy for some reason.

"Yeah..right," he decided to ignore the remark, "okay so.. I heard you know how to get me back to south park?."

"Oh, so that's why you're here?," then he realized that the only reason the boy is presented here was because of the inevitable, he died in the upper world.

Maybe it's his instincts, or just maybe because he's been so lonely. He feels this sudden sickening attachment towards the boy. As messed up as it sounds, considering he did ground him into chilly. But in his defense he didn't know. He didn't know he was his father. Would've that made a difference? That he couldn't know. But that made him soften just a bit. That would keep him fooled just for now.

"Yeah, I want to get back home," Cartman stated, as the tense moment had started to drift off coming to a lighter ambient.

"Oh, well I suppose I could help you with that," he lied. He saw Eric's eyes sparkle a bit, as in hope. It remind them so much like Scott's..

"Sweet!," he exclaimed excited. Finally, this literally hell will be over soon.

[...]

"So you're saying you own that hotel?," Cartman asked. As his father explained most of his living down in hell and his ropes in it.

They headed to a taco stand and Jack gesture him to take a seat in one of the chairs while he order.

"Pretty much. Cool huh?," he responded a little proud of his accomplishments.

"Yeah.. so.. 'jak n off'?," Cartman asked while he saw the waiter place their beverages in the counter.

"Haha yeah.. I thought it'd be funny. No one seems to care," he added with a chuckle, taking a sip of his soda.

"Ha.. I- when I was in the upper world me and my friend kinny started a business reopening a old hot dog restaurant and we named it 'DikinBaus' haha.. just to mess around with people," he admitted, strangely still feeling uneasy and nauseous.

"Ha! 'DiknBaus'? I love it!," Jack laughed a bit whipping a fake tear out of his right eye, "I guess we share a certain humor, Eric."

"Yeah.." he look down at his hands. It felt odd talking to his dad. He wasn't sure if it was good but he knew it wasn't unpleasant.

"So you also have a business?," Jack asked interested. His boy does resemble him in ways he won't deny that, though his slut of a mother's features were surely there, all over his face to be in fact.

Scott never seem interest in taking big steps on trying to climb to the top leagues or have big ideal dreams. He seemed okay with living in the low peaceful life and well, following his favorite bands gushing over there new songs as a fellow follower than a leader.

"Well. Turns out they took it away from me when it became one of the most popular places in town! Can you believe that?," he complained, finally letting loose the awkward tension he felt, to vent his anger and displeasure, "and what's worse is that my mom followed through with it and didn't care that we had a lifetime successful business with a cool looking house!."

"That sounds awful, your mom's a bitch," Jack admitted. He can already tell Eric can have a bright future as a business man if he we're to try harder.

The boy jolted. It anger him when anyone talks bad about his mom, maybe Jack can be an exception being his dad and all?.. but it still pinch his heart and left a sour feeling in the tip of his tongue. Yes, his mom's a bitch, but only he can say it. He really doesn't know how to respond to his dad about it.

"Right.." he then continued sipping his soda, "so, how did you manage to create one of the most popular hotels in hell?," ignoring further his mother's mentioned.

"Well, when I was down here I was very popular among the other people that had also previously died. I stood out in a way."

The food had already been served. And Cartman picked one of the bean tacos and starting munching it, he felt his father's stare on him and he felt conscious of how he was eating 'Do I have something?'.

"Really? What made you so different?," oblivious to the other stares he was getting from the other customers.

"My death," He bluntly admitted, making Cartman almost choke on his food. 'Fuck'

"Oh," he flatly stated.

"Yeah, it was a hit back then. Everyone was talking about it, and people glorified me for it. As they say it was one the most radical deaths they've had ever heard happening," Jack explained, smiling by the memory, he found himself oddly proud of it. As it had benefited him in so much, and honestly he liked the attention on him, "As to expected I was very popular and was given many opportunities, like talk shows and lots and lots of 'money'," said emphasizing the last word.

Cartman stared at him for brief seconds, "money?," hint of greed in his words. Jack smiled by that, and nodded. He sure was his son.

"So.. how did you die?," he finally asked that anxious question he's been wanting to know.

"So like, I was kinda forced to help my annoying friends out to bring back chutulu to the underground, even though I didn't want to and wanted to just use chutulu to destroy 'DikinBaus' as because no one deserves such a wonderful place I made, and I was shot by the military by accident while I was on top of chutulu's head, falling straight to the ground," Cartman answered casually, squeezing some ketchup on his plate mimicking the blood he imagine leaving, sparing the costume details and the manipulation tactic he use too.

"Wow, I guess us Tenenorman just have it in us on dying radically and cool," Jack laughed excited with a fist in the air.

The name used took Cartman off guard. He was a Cartman after all! But it really warmed his heart to be complimented that much and it felt nice, being included for once. So he let it slide just this once.

"Yeah, I guess it is!," He exclaimed more confident and puffed his chest out, proud.

Jack gave him a warm smile and Cartman returned it back.

[...]

Jack had went on asking for some books he claimed as 'solutions' for Cartman's problem, while the boy decided to sit back and rethink his choices of the chilly incident and how different it would've been if they had just told him the truth.

Then, he felt a odd buzzing sound inside of his ear. He started smaking his left side with his palm.

"Cartman!," he.. 'was that Stan?', "Dude can you hear us? Are you there?."

'Holy shit, it is the hippie!'

"Stan?."

"Fatass?," another familiar voice chimed in.

"Aye! I Ain't fat you stupid jew!."

"Holy shit, Cartman dude!," Stan exclaimed a little too excited then he wanted to be. Cartman flinched by the intense noise in his ears, it was bothering him.

"Ow! Aye you damn hippie! Lower your voice will yah! My head hurts just hearing you guys!."

On the other side Kyle couldn't hold a smile. The other boys just laughed by being able to still annoy Cartman even being in a whole different life.

"So how's it going over there, Eric," Kenny asked.

"Yeah, you haven't lost ten thousand pounds over there by not eating junk food all day?," Kyle added, knowing well Cartman would answer back by the remark he leaned forward to the magic ball that was centered in the middle of the ouija.

"In the matter of fact, you dumb jew, I'm eating pretty well," The boy answered with puffed cheek and airs of superiority, "But things are going pretty well, it's boring as fuck though I was trying to find a way outta here," he then added. Not even questioning how they even managed to connect with him.

"And how's that going, Cartman?," Stan asked curiously. He really wanted to know if there was way.

Cartman took a few seconds to rehear his friend's question. He considered it a bit. After all, he was starting to find hell quite less boring now that he found his dad. He was not going to admit that to them though.

"Uh- well, I'm still on it. Not much luck though," he lied.

"Dammit Cartman, you fat fuck you really can't do shit with out us can you," Kyle then added, smirking slightly.

"Aye!."

The three boys started howling of laughter.

"Eric?."

Eric jolted in shock by the sudden voice behind him, reappearing to his vision. He reposition himself.

"Everything alright?," Jack answered a little concerned of his son behavior just now. He had just returned with some books at his hold while he witnessed Eric seemingly talking to himself.

It was nothing new to him that his son was mentally fucked up, so he has decided to shrug it off.

"Yeah, everything's alright."

'Who's that, fat boy?,' Stan asked.

"No one.." Cartman answered in a whisper.

"C'mon, Eric. Let's go to my place and discuss about your situation," Jack added with a nod gesturing to follow him.

Eric then pursued on following behind him.

[...]

"I guess we lost connection with Cartman," Kenny stated. As they no longer could hear their fat friend.

"How long will it take for us to be able to contact him again?," Kyle asked a little eager. He was finally being able to enjoy the presence of Cartman again, and honestly it was hard to admit he did miss it.

"Probably tomorrow," the blonde shrugged laying down on his bed, "maybe we should try asking the goths if they know how to bring a person back from the depths of hell."

"That sounds like a good idea," Stan chimed in.

The three were now determined on bringing Cartman back.

On the other side, Cartman found himself admiring his father's pent house. It had one of the most amazing views of hell. He stared at the window for a brief long period while seeing every store, house, streets, even the small from afar hell citizens.

And don't get him started on his gaming room! There was also a personal gym 'meh' who gives a damn about exercise. He continued looking through the home. Big kitchen, bathroom, room.

Wow, literal heaven.

There was a box full of condoms on one of the kitchen counters which his dad immediately hid when he found the boy inspecting the area.

He followed behind him with his arms cross on his back, he liked how much Eric was admiring his success with those big innocent looking eyes, though he knew deep inside that image, he was a little devil just like his mother. Both innocent looking yet easy to sugarcoat someone into giving them what they want, making them devilish.

He remembered venting with pride to his son Scott about being a Denver bronco and the games his won, all the attention he received because of it looking for praise from him, but received none but a small nod while he presided on listening to music. Maybe because he was a teen and no longer interested in hearing about their parents accomplishments and tales.

But Eric, oh small little Eric found everything he did amusing and exciting! He enjoyed that.

"Okay, uh.. Jack?," the boy spoke, uncertain what to call him.

"You can call me dad," The redhead added too quickly, he 'tsch' silently.

It went silent again. Jack figured it'll be a matter of time for things to settle down and fix on it's own.

Cartman had his mouth slightly agape staring at his father trying to pick on any slight hint of bluff in him. But found none. 'No one wanted to be his dad' no one dare tried to be.

Jack was starting to feel a little uncomfortable 'maybe it was too soon?' Before the boy spoke up.

"O-okay, dad," he said with a flat line as his mouth.

That word just felt so cursed coming out of his mouth.

Jack beamed.

[...]

A whole week has passed and the boys were no longer able to contact Cartman. Kyle began to worry if something must have happened to his idiotic friend while in search of an exit from hell.

They had failed miserably to summon Cartman back. Tried the various forms the goths have told them to do. But nothing worked. And now they had lost the only connection they had towards him, Cartman was just too much to bring back he supposed.

Stan had suggested that it may be because he was too fat to fit in any of the portals made. He found that funny cause it was most likely to happen.

He sigh.

The boys decided to just start looking for a new replacement. As they had already gripped on the idea on the other boy's return being less possible.

So here he was. Being the one chosen to pick the new Eric Cartman.

"So why again do I have to pick him?," he asked with a frown expression, having cupped his cheek with the palm of his hand.

"Because, the new Cartman has to be able to keep up with you," Stan stated the obvious.

Kyle raised a brow by that, "What's that supposed to mean?."

"It means, that if he were to be put in a stupid situation where he pissed you off enough to riled you up, then he must be able to budge through with it."

"Doubt it," He said bored. He wasn't interested in finding a new Cartman, he wanted his Cartman back. Their Cartman back.

"Okay, kid. You got the rules?," Stan questioned, eyeing a brunette chubby boy. His name was Tobias. The boy tilted his head not as sure.

"So.. I just can't fight back?," he asked displeased, wrinkling his nose. 'Kinda like cartman' Kyle thought.

"No. You fight back in a sketchy scheme to bite back at Kyle," Kenny explained balancing a pencil with his mouth, "you just let Kyle beat you up."

"But- that's not fair! How can I just let this dude just beat me up?."

Kyle was just standing next to him eyeing the boy. Already annoyed by this interaction. A good start he supposed.

"Dude, it's Kyle you just-" Stan gripped the bridge of his nose to calm himself down, "look, you be an ass, then Kyle beats you up for it. Get it? That's how their dynamic works."

Still not reassured by the answer the boy looked at Kyle in a stance for a fight.

Kyle then did a stance, about to prepare punching the kid. But before even giving him a throw, the boy flinched and cover himself up with his arms.

"Damn, what a pussy," Stan said.

"Ay! I ain't no pussy!," he shouted, his fist were clenched, and his cheeks were red with embarrassment, frowning his face.

"Go on," Kenny tune in, finally fully focusing on the boy, an eye brow raised.

"W-well.. you guys are a bunch of assholes! Fuck you guys!."

"Okay, okay," the blonde boy raised his hands, grinning from ear to ear, "and what am I?," he closed his eyes putting a hand in one of his ears waiting for the correct answer.

"A poor piece of shit!," the boy in question exclaimed, "you're a stupid hippie. That only -" he points at Stan. And continued bashing on all three of us.

Stan and Kenny were grinning widely while Kyle felt a little sting is his chest.

They found their Cartman.

[...]

Cartman on the other hand had been laying down on the living room couch, with a very thin blanket as the environment he was in was already quite warm. Atleast for what his father had explained to him. The weather is only based on just two season changes. Summer and 'winter'. Summer is burning hell, winter it's freezing hell as if it were wanting to snow in literal hell, but it never does. Ofcourse, they were in summer when he had arrived, and it'll be like that for the next eight months.

The TV was on and it was kinda late at night for what he supposed called 'hell hour'. Their night time.

His eyelids were half lifted, tired. He won't deny the first few days spending time with his dad we're great, with the exception of the crappy so called 'food' he made, it was just too.. let's say bland 'healthy'. Unlike his mom's amazing cooking nothing could compare. But he had adapted to it very quickly as Jack had promised him to go out for some yummy foods as a 'treat'. He supposed he could endure the torture for a couple more days as long as he was still able to play with all his video games.

But the more the clock ticks the more bored he gets, the more un-patience he gets. Jack also wasn't always home compared to his mother. He had work, and had explained to him this is how he owns such nice things and keeps things in check under 'their' rooftop. He was barely home, and not only that he'd come back with lady friends and takes them to bed with him, claiming they were there for business. What he's not aware of, is that he's already very familiar with the so called 'business' before. His mother has finally mellow down on it but this prick doesn't seem on ending it anytime soon as some college freshman.

He had guessed his former wife had ended up in heaven as she is no longer in the picture and the man never mentions her. Taking this as a opportunity to sleep around with as many women he could get, just like with his mother. He frown by the thought.

He sigh, as he knows better than to knock on the grown man's door. He knew he had taken a lady friend with him inside, he didn't even bother glancing at him before taking her inside. So he layyed there. In that silent room, all by himself hearing the TV noises slowly being blocked by his brain.

He missed south park.

He missed his friends, and his bitch of a mom.

He closed his eyes. And then he jolted back up.

'That's it!' He exclaimed to himself.

He went through all the pages of the books Jack had brought, claiming they could 'help' which he never bother bringing up again cause he was distracting Eric with other cool more interesting stuff than returning him back to South park. For Eric's surprise they were a bunch of cooking recipes 'nothing of actual use!', he frown angrily. 'That motherfucker!' Literally.

He quietly tip toe to another shelf and started going through each individual book but found nothing. He was getting desperate as he was wondering how could Jack keep that information from him when it was literally the whole reason he found him for.

Then, when he was about to give up a green book had ended up smacking his head 'ow!', it had fell from above the shelf. But there was something special about that book that made him peek inside. There was code written in the back part of the book. He wondered where to use it for but was immediately answered as he look at the front cover. It was the best hint.

He slowly open the front door to sneak out and successfully do so. He ran trough each hall way of that huge building and had entered the elevator tapping a button for the ground floor.

He waited patiently, and had entered the shallow hallway. The book was titled 'room fith'.

He open the room and for his luck, it was opened. Everything was empty, a plain green painted room. He stood there confused thinking in 'what' he had calculated wrong.

Before 'snap!' The ground open immediately letting him fall straight into some cushions. The fall didn't feel so deep. But the whole secrecy makes it all skeptical, as if there's something to hide.

He looked around the small room, it was adorned with many satanic symbols, candles, glasses with sand and there were plenty of papers spread in the floors like rituals. He examine each one and approach the table that had many finished and unfinished work. Building plans, maps from areas of hell he hasn't heard of. He figured this was all work of his father as he can recall his writing from the small notes he had left him in the counter before heading for work explaining how to use certain things of the kitchen and wishing him a 'have a nice hell day' before adding 'you're not allowed to go outside'. Kinda controlling not gonna lie.

He flipped through plans and saw many other rituals of summoning. Who knows, he may be able to summon Kyle here? He snorted of the thought of pissing his friend off by bringing him to hell.

But then stop his tracks when he looked under the table to find a small safe, his eyes widen at the revelation 'this is it! This is were he's supposed to add the code.'

"What're you doing there champ?."

He jolted scared turning into the opposite direction.

Jack was smirking slightly while having his arms cross.

"Guess you're enjoying the tour huh," he approached slowly stopping three steps away from Eric.

The boy gulped felling this huge uneasy felling between them, sweating uncontrollably. He felt small for the first time in his whole life, looking at the older man's eyes.

Before being knocked out.

[...]

He opened his eyes and felt his arms tied to a wooden surface unable to move, he notice once adjusting his vision that he was in fact tied up in a chair. He freaked out, this feels oddly familiar.

He then turned his gaze upwards looking straight ahead. Seeing his father sitting down in a couch from that same room, arms were cross around his chest, man spreading but his gaze was straight towards him. He gulped once more. 'He really looks like Scott right now'.

Jack immediately lightened up once he saw Eric awake, he then proceeded to speak.

"Oh, Eric you're awake!," he beamed, forcing a cheerful tone. He didn't want the boy to realize how disappointed he was for catching him trying to escape, "look, Eric, I'm not gonna hurt you," he tried justifying his actions while he stood up.

"You knock me out and tied me into a chair you crazy bitch!."

"BECAUSE someone decided to bash in a forbidden area," Jack defended, he disliked the naming but bit his tongue.

"Cause you lied to me of helping me get out! Those books you brought were all cooking recipes!."

"Well, yes, they will be of help once you're older, champ! I didn't lie," the red head continued explaining while searching through his drawer, "Eric I want you to know that I'm just doing this for the best for you."

The boy remained silent which gave Tenorman the opportunity to continue reasoning.

"I want you to be able to accomplish your goals, I want you to become successful and I want you to be able to follow my steps in hell."

"What? Fuck that! I don't want to be a business man!."

"Eric, I see so much potential in you and have no plans on letting you waste it like your brother."

Eric froze by the mentioned of Scott.

"Unless you'd prefer ending up living in a old dusty hotdog like your mother lead you too?," Jack said with a blank face showing a couple of prints that had many, and I meant many incidents involving Cartman, "When you first approached me, that same night I made a huge search and found so much information on you, Eric, so, so much. You're quite a special boy," he added with a little hum.

"Scott has lost all his marbles, and as hard it is to admit it. I don't see him giving a good name for the Tenormans."

"Fuck the Tenormans! I'm no Tenorman!."

"But you are, Eric," there was a glint of greed in those eyes, something that made Eric's skin scrawled, "in fact, you're more of a Tenorman than a Cartman," he took out a scrapbook from the left side of his drawer.

He flipped through it and stopped in one, deciding to show the boy what was in it.

It was a old newspaper with a young man, probably in his mid-thirties he had ginger looking features but it looked like him, a way older version of him. He had a smirk on while being dragged by cops in the picture, his features resemble pure chaotic vibes. You just knew by seeing a glance of this man, he was trouble.

The article had titled 'psycho man rigged presidential election'. Eric gulped again.

"That's your great grandfather," he then picked up another of his prints, "you know who also tried rigging a presidential election?," Jack added smirking while showing a picture of Cartman and the head of Disney along of millions of election votes.

He then showed him another article, he so called great grandfather was standing next to three other boys picking on one in peculiar, he supposed a friend. He seemed jewish as he had a star of david necklace on him. This article had nothing too chaotic on it, they just use those four teens as an example of 'what not to be'.

Then his dad showed him a picture of his three friends and himself. One where he was in fact, taunting his jewish friend.

He sigh.

"Okay? That means nothing! I want to get back home!."

"That's the thing, Eric, you're not," Jack said, calming placing delicately the scrap on top of the drawer, "I'm protecting you, by the evil of yourself, the evil of your great grandfather's soul on you and the evil of your mother's influence," he pointed, sitting back down comfortably in the couch.

"I'll actually put of good use of your skill and potentials, someone like you Eric should always waste their potential in something actually beneficial than to just fuck around with," Jack lit up a cigar while he continued his rant, "that's what your great grandfather did wrong, and that's what you're doing wrong. Putting your motives and desires into unbeneficial things, un important things. And for what? Just for a three second laugh before being dragged away to jail or to a 'pyscho ward'?," he denied with his head looking at his expensive shoes, smiling after emphasizing his last sentence.

"You mother fucker.." Eric murmured finally realized what the ginger meant, Jack smirked in understanding, "Scott.. he didn't just go crazy because of what I did, he was already going crazy before I enter his life I just pushed him forward to actually snap!," the boy exclaimed scared.

"Ding ding ding!," Jack nodded happily, "see, you're very smart."

Cartman really wanted to go, run away and hide himself under the warm covers of his bed, under his mother's care far away from this crazy bitch!

Jack had left claiming he'd get him some food.

There he was just sitting there afraid, he really prayed for a miracle, just one more miracle in literal hell!

He closed his eyes tight trying to imagine himself being just trapped in a really bad nightmare.

The boy found the switch in personalities amusing, as it were so sudden and unexpected. In a blink of an eye the man that was seen as a caring cool father turned into a crazy psychotic lunatic! He really started missing his mom.

He felt himself uncomfortable felling the ropes being sunken in his flesh, hurting him and he felt having cramps in his calves, it hurted like hell and he couldn't do anything about it. He began crying outta desperation.

Then, he felt a buzz in his ears once more 'guys?'

His eyes lit up.

"Is there someone there?," he asked sniffing his snot back inside as it was running down his mouth.

"Cartman?."

"Kyle?," the brunette boy smile, 'there was still hope after all!'

"Kahl! You gotta help me! Kahl!," the boy cried with no shame. It isn't unusual for him to seek help from his ginger friend when he had fucked up and needed help solving it, "I can't! I'm all tied up and I-I-! Bwaaahh!!!," he cried louder.

"Okay, Cartman calm down!," his friend responded, "what happened? Is everything okay?."

"No! Nothings okay you stupid fuck!," the chubby boy eyes were all puffed up and red, while he felt his throat dry up, "this fucker lied to me! He lieeed!"

"Who lied to you?," he didn't hear Kyle ask as he cut him off continuing explaining his current situation.

"I need help! I'm tied up in 'jak n off' hotel in room five the ground floor! I'm at the bottom!," He cried once again, between breaths he hold back tears, he was freaking out. He was scared, and he was alone.

Then snapped back nervously when he heard a door open from behind him.

"Hey, Eric. I got you some grilled cheese sandwiches in hopes for you to cheer up a bit, my little future super star," said Jack beaming mimicking his mother's tone, it had sent shivers down the boy's spine, "I don't want you gaining too much weight though, or you'll be seen as a piggy for the rest of your life. And no one, likes, pigs."

"Cartman? Are you still there? Cartman!?," he heard his friend's voice.

He remained silent not trying to reveal his last only solution outta this mess, blocking also Tenorman's hurtful words.

"Why Eric! Look at you, you look like a mess," Jack put the sandwiches aside while running to his drawer and taking out a box of tissues and wipes. He then approached the boy and started wiping his face. Cleaning all remaining leftover tears and the snot that had started to dry up in his mouth.

[...]

"Dude, how the hell are we gonna go find Cartman if he's in hell," Stan exclaimed confused about his best friend's claims.

"The only solution is one of us dying," Kyle said with a frown, determinant on finding cartman.

"Dude!?," the latter responded with a brow raised and his arms raised in 'wtf', "dude I don't want to die! There's so much I want to do" looking at the ground thinking about the thousands of board games he hasn't played yet.

"Yeah, me neither!," exclaimed, Tobias.

Kenny remained silent staring at the red head.

"No one has to die, but me," Kyle spoke, he lowered his gaze. He knew it was risky, "I'm offering myself to do it," but it was worth the shot.

"Kyle that's the most crazy shit I've ever heard you say!."

"It's the only way! Nothing else has worked!."

"No, I'll do it."

The three boys turned their head towards Kenny. He had a frown and he seemed to not fear losing anything. Cause he wouldn't.

Kenny had already tried getting back into hell, dying various times to see if he could find Cartman but for some reason he hasn't been able to get a hold of the underground world. Waking back to life the next day. As in some sorta temporary limbo.

"That's okay, Kenny," Kyle reassured with a smile," I know you have your siblings to care of.. and well, I know Ike would have my mom and dad to take care of him, just in case I don't come back."

"Kyle, I'll do it. Eric is my best friend after all," Kyle's words was heartwarming but he wasn't gonna risk losing another friend.

Kyle frown reconsidering it. He then proceeded to nod.

They had left the Marsh residence as they wanted to be as far as possible from any witnesses, they went inside the weed 'garden'.

They found a solid ground far away from the farm. Atleast enough for a bullet to not be able to hear from a distance.

They got into a circle and Kenny stood in middle of the three.

He took the gun out, and pulled the trigger with not even a second thought. But there was nothing, just a small click everytime he pulled the trigger.

"What the fuck?," the blond asked confused looking up at Kyle.

"Sorry, Kenny I couldn't let you do that," his friend stated before pulling out a gun out of his jacket and pointed at his head 'that crazy son of a bitch' Kenny thought eyes wide open in panic, "here goes nothing," 'BANG' was all he heard before hearing the other two boys scream.

"Kyle no!," Stan shouted with his hands gripped into his head staring at his now dead friend, his face covered in Kyle's blood, "Jesus christ!!."

"Holy fuck," the brunette boy said horrified, "you guys are crazy! I no longer want to be part of this stupid group!," he screamed horrified before dashing away no longer looking back.

[...]

"¡AHHH!," Kyle found himself screaming while falling straight into what it seems to be lava. He looked upwards meeting with a pair of people staring at him. Is he really in hell right now? Fuck, he needed to start behaving once he's back in south park. He got up and managed to get out of the pit with ease.

He looked around, people forming circles partying here and there. There was lights everywhere even though it was pretty much lit already. Stores, buildings even food stands. 'No wonder that fat fuck didn't complain about being hungry' he thought to himself. Hell didn't seem bad at all! Well with the exception of the public torture displayed in front of him, he didn't seemed to mind it as much as he felt he should. What the literal hell?

He went to what appeared to be a big wooden cartel for new hell residents with the instructions on how to get back in their feet and their new purposes and do's, 'fuck that', he went where there was a map with all the locations needed to know. Also, pamphlets. He picked one and opened it. He recall Cartman mentioning a hotel called 'jak n off' and pursued following the directions given.

He then stood in front of a yellow building.

Okay, first instruction checked. Now, room fifth of the ground floor. But he stopped before doing any further action. He recalled his friend claiming there was someone with him 'what if they're still there?' He thought before considering a different approach.

Meanwhile...

"Holy shit, Kenny! What do we do!?," Stan said in panic, gesturing the other boy's dead body.

"Okay, Stan. Just listen carefully," the blonde had his right hand as a 'stop' gesturing to calm down.

He saw his friend breathing heavily, closing his eyes trying to regulate his heartbeat and breathing.

'he's just a crazy as Cartman!' That realization made the boy's eyes widen, "Holy shit," He spoke, now gripping into Kenny shoulders while the other boy flinched by the sudden action, "that was just as crazy level as Cartman!," he exclaimed his concerns.

Kenny loosen up from the grip before picking Kyle's body from head to shoulder. He gesture with his head for the other boy to help him with the other half.

Stan hesitated a bit but followed through.

"Fuck."

[...]

"Hmhm hmm!," Jack nodded repeatedly when he had finished re-dressing his off spring. He had bought him a little business suite the other day but had found this time appropriate to give.

The boy had refused and complained when the man attempted to take his clothes off but then failed immediately from his strength. 'Something beneficial from being a Denver bronco' he thought. He proceeded to submit.

Once back tied in the chair, his father turned him around being front of a large mirror.

'Ofcourse he was handsome' but he did not like being force to do things against his own will.

"Eric Tenorman," the man spoke with pride, "doesn't that just sound right?."

Eric gulped. He hated that name.

"Look at you, looking like a professional business man already!," he beamed again, "I'll be right back I'm gonna go fetch some wine."

"When are you planning to untie me!?," the boy wince when he saw a spider slowly going down on him.

A laugh as it were a joke was made, "oh, Eric," he then walked out.

None long after he had heard a loud 'thump' from behind him, he looked instead in the mirror and his eyes widen of excitement.

"Kahal!"

"Cartman?," the boy asked while standing up, he had fallen down from the cushions, ass straight to the ground, "Holy shit, dude! You alright?," he asked approaching him, he proceeded to untie the boy.

Kyle looked around a bit and proceeded to look at the boy that was stretching his back. He heard some cracking and popping.

'He looked like shit'

"We have to get outta here!," Cartman said before dragging Kyle from hand to hand outta the dark room. He was grateful he manage to see how his father summoned a door. But he stopped returning to the safe and grabbing the book and papers that were in there, once again gripping onto Kyle's hands dragging him out.

Once they were safe. They had ran out of the building, running towards the entrance of hell through the amount of new people that had arrived, and found themselves hidden behind 'Sussie's Buttocks' club.

Cartman sigh and Kyle just watched him with a frown brow.

With out further warning Cartman hugged the boy tight leaving Kyle speechless tensing his shoulders and his hands were up in the air unable to figure out if to correspond or just let the boy finish. He decided the second option.

"Thank you, Kyle! You came! I can't believe it!."

The boy loosen up the tension he had felt on his shoulders and just kept silent, letting his arch rival embrace him with his warmth. He could feel Cartman's rapid heart beat.

"Just so you know, I'm just here cause I couldn't stand your replacement," he said finally getting out of the boy's grip.

"Ay! You guys replace me already!?," Cartman protested angry while pouting.

The ginger smirked. With out realizing he felt himself hugging the boy tight. 'Fuck, he actually missed him', he buried his head under Cartman's shoulders as he felt him tense.

Kyle then let go, gazing at Cartman who had his eyes widen and the most heated red cheeks, mouth agape 'he looked gay' he thought. The boy then proceeded to lean towards him causing Cartman to panic as he weakly slapped him backwards snapping him out to his senses.

"Okay so who are we hiding from?," the red head spoke while he dust off the dirt on his jacket.

"Jack Tenorman."

Kyle's attention back to Cartman, in shock, "your dad?."

He nodded before vomiting. Everthing was all so overwhelming. Everthing his father revealed, his great grandfather and how home sick he felt, how much he missed his friends and mom. His insides twisted as he felt shivers all over him.

He made sure to point at Kyle's seamlessly new shoes though

"Ow gross, dude!."

[...]

Kenny found himself desperately wanting to go to hell but no matter how much he tried, he just couldn't. As if there were something blocking him by going.

He sigh, legs crossed next to Kyle's rotten body, flies piling up around him. He and Stan had hid themselves in Randy's shed. They weren't certain if to burry him or not so they toss him in there while both took turns checking outside for any future witnesses which they failed miserably because Stan's dad had went for a quick smoke hidding from Sharon, and looked at them, glancing at both boys before looking at Kyle 'ohhh' he murmured, both brows were raised before closing the door slowly, leaving.

Kenny then took out the ouija board and place it in the ground. Might aswell try to contact Kyle.

"Any luck?," Stan asked wincing from the smell that was coming out of his best friend.

"No," Kenny tried cutting some more blood out of his wrist, carefully not making the wound any deeper. They needed a living mortal's blood to be able to contact the dead.

"Do you think he went to heaven?."

"Nah, man. You really think one of us will end up there after the amount of shit we've down?," he had went to heaven before but it was a one time thing, after he started simply caring less about his deaths he became bolder and is no longer admitted into heaven.

Besides he recalled Kyle unintentionally killing a bunch of Canadians that was enough reason to be sent to hell.

"Good point."

Cartman and Kyle found themselves looking through rituals and plans, they inspected the book while Kyle flipped through pages then stopped pointing at one.

"Here 'lay the one and only chosen one for the path to open, a bright light as blindfold being turned to one'," then continued reading the next paragraph, " 'the second gripped to life, will become sacrifice to give light as they are two'."

"What's that supposed to mean?."

"As they are two.." Kyle reread trying to add sense to what was written, brows knitted together, "that's it," He said looking at the drawings of two men one represented death, the other life. While life was seen switching places with death.

He flipped through the rest of the pages reading new paragraphs and prophecies.

'Misplace the two bounded souls and fear it's wrath between worlds, as they are one'

'Life and death which are shown to be bounded by a soul'

'Death is life, life is death, a curse forming in between them as the new bounded soul is created'

He flipped through the next page and eyes widen. It was a drawing of Kenny and Cartman. 'Holy shit'

"Did you find anything?," Cartman asked while laying down on his stomach, making paper airplanes with the loose pages that were spread on the floor as he had gotten bored.

"Well, there you are my special little boy."

Both boys gasped turning around while they got up, Kyle having gripped the book on his chest. He walked backwards placing an arm on Cartman backing away slowly shielding him

'Cartman was our way out' he told himself, justifying his actions as if it were the first time he found himself protecting the fat fuck. Which it wasn't.

Jack stood there with his arms crossed behind his back, grinning eyeing the book then looking back at Kyle.

"I see you brought a friend to play, Eric," he took a pistol out from the inside of his suite pocket.

Both dashed outta there running through the multiple people that were all formed in circles. Hearing Tenorman shout from a far 'Ay! come back here!'

'Like father like son'.

Kyle panted hardly while trying to grasp some air, Cartman was knocked out cold on the floor. Hopefully they were far enough from Tenorman.

A buzzing feeling in his ear caught his attention, he held it because of the intense pain it did as if that were gonna stop it. Blood trailing down his cheek he looked at the hand he had held himself with 'my ear is bleeding'.

"Kyle?," the boy in question jolted.

"Kenny!?"

"Dude finally! We were worried sick for you!."

"Is he there? Kyle? Are you there!? You crazy piece of shit! Jesus christ!," Stan chimed in," are you alright? Did you find Cartman?."

"Yeah, he's right here," he looked at the boy that was now trying to stand up. He offered a hand while the boy reached out and was pull up to his feet again. He looked tired, uncharacteristically tired. It gave Kyle an uneasy feeling as he remembered what he had read 'Misplace the two bounded souls and fear it's wrath between worlds, as they are one' he assumed Cartman may be 'life'.

"Okay cool, have you guys find a way out?."

"Is that the hippie?," Cartman asked finally paying attention to the buzzy feeling of his own ears.

"Yeah.." Kyle whispered more to himself than to anyone else, "Kenny?"

"Yeah? I'm here dude."

"Look this is gonna sound crazy but,"

'Bang'

"¡AAH!," Kyle looked at Cartman who had screamed in horror, then looked at his now wounded chest half lifted eyes before feeling his legs weakened.

'Fuck' was the only thing that came out before knocking out on the floor.

'Kyle!?'

'Kyle!'

The boy slowly felt himself waking up by the sound of Stan's voice rumbling in his ears. He grunted, feeling sharp pains in his chest were he was previously shot, but managed to stand up.

He looked at his hands an feet, then his chest. It seemed to have healed as if it never happened 'had he dreamt it?' He looked around and found himself in the entrance of hell once more. Cartman was no longer at sight.

"Fuck," he frown 'this was being dragged too much', "Kenny, are you there?."

"Yeah man, what happened? We lost you for like an hour!."

"An hour? Holy shit.. okay, Kenny. I'm not crazy but I think you're 'death'."

"What."

"Yeah. I have a satanic looking book on me that has you drawn in here stating that you're bound into a soul."

"W-what?.."

"Yeah.. as crazy as it sounds but you're bonded. Not only are you bounded but to Cartman of all people."

"What!?," he heard both friends shout in unison.

"Look I don't know much for sure, but that's what I've gotten from what's written here. It says we need both of you to be able to get out."

"But how? I'm not allowed in hell."

"What?," he found himself confused by that comment but shrugged it off, "look 'the chosen soul must be into one of understanding to open a door through life and death' i- I honestly got lost by that point," Kyle admitted nodding to himself.

" 'The chosen soul must be into one of understanding to open a door through life and death..'," Kenny found himself repeating the words. He frowned.

Cartman and him were bounded.. but how? But why? Life and death. If he was death that makes Cartman life. Which having him in the underworld makes it not possible to be 'life'.

Death.. death is life. Which would makes sense if he were to die and revive.

Would that mean switching places with Cartman? As he found himself in life and he in death. All this is messing up his mind.

Would that mean what's been blocking him from both heaven and hell and keeping him in a sorta limbo state is because he's slowly becoming life? And Cartman..

'fuck'

"Kenny?," Stan's voice snapped him back.

"We need to find a way to bring Cartman back and quick!."

The chubby boy felt his body weakened while he was carried by his father. He had taken him to the rooftop of the building he owned while gripping tight with steel chains his wrists and legs into some torture table he had put there.

Half lifted eyes stared to the ground. He felt like shit.

His father stood there with clasped hands eyeing him everywhere as he was some golden trophy, as he were just waiting for something. But he couldn't grasp what it was.

"Did I ever mentioned you that Liane was part of a cult?," spoke Jack.

Cartman just kept silent as he began coughing badly.

The grown man walked towards him taking out a tissue from his pocket cleaning some of the trail blood he had cough out 'the fuck!?'

"When I first met your mother it wasn't at some stupid party your town folks had told you about. I met her in a cult meeting. I was young and was told they will be free booze," He reveal while fixing the boys now untied tie, "we felt attraction immediately and bonded over the fact that we were both there for booze, laugh it off and things just lead to an other," continued while shrugging.

Cartman found himself feeling his muscles spasm.

"I'm the good guy Eric! I would've never asked for this to have happen to you if I knew," he then place his hand onto his chest as an innocent demeanor, "your mother is to blame."

"The thing is, unlike me, Liane ended up getting too into the cult meeting and had unintentionally set herself up with two other soon to be parents, she had dragged me in, unaware of what would happened. She found it silly and fun and I found it a little creepy but followed through cause I was just too wasted to care about the odd rituals the other members were putting us in 'everthing for a piece of that' I kept telling myself."

The boy cut him off he began to have various seizures that lasted for up to three seconds before repeating itself, he felt his mouth grasping for air and being choked by his own saliva. His fingers twitched and his feet curled.

"And then, months after, you were born," unfazed the man wiped the saliva off his cheeks, "ofcourse by the time you were born I had no longer any contact with Liane and that so called meeting became a fuzzy memory for me."

"But, Eric," he approached the boy, face to face, "this, it's life changing," the boy heard while still trying to grasp for air, his vision long gone as it became blurry.

"Imagine, a Tenorman being able to switch in between worlds! Being able to use this curse and becoming one of the most powerful beings on both worlds," He ranted for himself, with every word being said his eyes dilated. Malicious, greed, selfishness surfacing, "not being able to die! HaHA! We'd be unstoppable!."

'Bang'

Tenorman fell into the floor.

Kyle then reloaded his shotgun while two other boys stood next to him.

"Stan help me with Cartman!," Kenny order running towards the almost unconscious boy. Stan nodded following.

They had manage to summon Satan while being in the upper world. Luckily Satan owed Stan a favor and it was just all convenient.

They managed to release Cartman by pressing a button that was place under the table with the label 'release' on it.

Kenny held the boy who convulsions worsened.

"Eric can you hear me?."

"K-kinny? Dammit kinny! Get out my death sequence," the boy complained even though his eyes looked elsewhere.

"You're not gonna die fat boy! You're already in hell."

"Oh, right," His body stiffened trying his best to take control but failed miserably once more, "how's it going?."

The comment made the blonde boy cracked a smile, "look Eric," he gently caress cartman's hair.

'That's gay' he heard the boy remark but ignored it.

"It'll be hard to believe this.. but I die," Kenny revealed, "like all the time," he sigh, feeling the glances of his other two friends on him.

"I know."

Kenny's eyes widen, "no, like I mean it, I die all the time!."

"I know," his chubby friend frown feeling stupid by hearing his best friend seemingly finding it hard for him to remember the obvious. And because of the condition he's in 'duh' he didn't feel like arguing, "I can tell you death by death, each and single one with detail and date."

Kenny was left with his mouth opened, speechless, he couldn't believe it. 'Is he really telling the truth or is he fucking with me?' All this time he's been looking for someone atleast one person that could remember. And he was there all along infront of him, someone he least expected.

"And you didn't bother on telling me!?," Kenny said angry, he felt his eyes water.

Cartman twitch in his arms, "nobody seemed to mentioned anything, and you never asked. I figured it may have been a bad dream or not as important cause nobody seem to believe me the few times I did mention it, they all looked at me weird as it I we're delusional," the boy admitted.

Now that he thought about it. The times he has admitted to someone about his curse, Cartman was never present. Which meant he had never given the opportunity to answer him. And when he mentioned it he was either dead or not around to tell.

Like if it were intentional for both boys to not be able to share this moment until now.

"You know what's messed up?," cartman's voice snapped him back, he had a weak smile plastered, "I began to be so use to it, it was easy to use your deaths. Like the time you were in the death bed or the time I had convinced everyone it would be best to disconnect you to have your psp, or being able to better my vision stealing one of your eyes, I knew you'd come back, you always did."

Kenny's eyes sparked in amusement 'he really did remember'.

"But the first few times.. kinny they were horrifying, I still feel uneasy but it isn't as before," his body twitch some more while he complained about the pain in his arms and legs, "I remember the rats eating your flesh, I remember trying to shoo them away cause you still weren't dead."

Kenny watched his friend with such warmth as if it were a cute tale he was retelling.

"The time Kyle killed you with a chainsaw," 'I what?' They heard their ginger friend asked confused but ignored it, "being killed by a bull, eaten by some pterodactyl, by oral sex, squished, run over," the boy shaked, the pain decreasing the more closer he got to kenny. On the other hand kenny was feeling immense warmth in his chest, like literal fire. 'Hell, It's really burning!'

Kenny remembered always being close in a certain way with Cartman, they even were once trapped together by his soul because the stupid idiot had eaten his ashes.

He glance down at Cartman who had let his head fall into his lap, smiling. 'This was kinda gay' he thought.

He felt the boy latching on to him, and he won't deny he felt the sudden urge to do the same which he unintentionally did. The burning sensation in his chest increased the pain, becoming unbearable 'fuuuuuck!'

On the other hand Cartman never felt more peaceful in Kenny's arms, he felt like he was in the clouds and couldn't recall why the sensation just felt like he was falling but there was no fear of an impact just comfort with in the clouds and sky.

Stan and Kyle didn't bare interrupt the two boys as they knew it was needed to get out and Kenny knew how to do it but they couldn't help feeling a little discomfort as this felt intimate and private. Atleast for Stan it wasn't displeasing just disturbing while with Kyle it was the opposite. He found the boys sudden closeness displeasing he just didn't know why.

Sudden the back door sling open reveling Jack. Kyle prepared his gun and pointed at him making him stop in his tracks.

"You guys don't know what're you're doing! Fuck, ¡no!," He exclaimed once he saw Kenny holding on to Cartman and vice-versa. He knew there was no longer takes back as their ritual bound was already in the stages of ending.

The two boys burst into flames seemingly showing no response to it. Atleast from Cartman's part, internally for Kenny it was a pain in the ass but he didn't show it. Sweat begin to pop up in his skin and his nails digged up in Cartman's suit, wincing his eyes shut.

Their silloette formed a door which proceeded to opened.

"Dude! I think it's the portal!," Stan exclaimed getting near it, while Kyle shot Tenorman in the head once more before following Stan. Not after glancing at Kenny and Cartman before jumping through the portal.

Cartman then layyed down flat finally letting go of Kenny. The blonde watched him while he started twisting in pain 'this is it' he then looked at Cartman, suddenly understanding before proceeding to enter the portal, finally vanishing.

Kenny sigh as he turned into ashes finally dying.

[...]

"Morning dudes," Kenny salute, beaming. He was in a good mood after all.

"Sup Kenny," Stan greeted.

"Hey Kenny," Kyle added.

"Cartman hasn't arrived yet?."

"That fat fuck probably forgot to turn his alarm on," the red head spoke with a yawn.

"Or, he did set an alarm but ignored it," Stan added.

"Either sound possible."

Not long after Cartman got on the bus greeting them.

"Hey dipshits!," he proceeded to take a seat next to Kenny who grinned at him, "so how you guys dealing after the hell incident?," he asked.

Stan and Kyle just raised a brow confused.

"What're you talking about, fatass?," Kyle then added while frowning not wanting to deal with Cartman's shit again this early in the morning.

"Yeah, dude, you alright?," Stan chimed in.

Kenny stared at Cartman still beaming while he saw the bigger boy's face turned in disbelief.

"Dude! I literally died a horrible death not long ago! Remember? Hell!? Kyle you literally went to save me!," he screamed.

"Did he also came in a shining armor?," Stan teased while both best friends, then, howl in laughter.

Cartman pouted bitterly. Kenny put a hand on his shoulder understanding well enough the feeling. The boy glance at him.

"Welcome to the club," he smiled.

Cartman looked up at the two boys infront of him that still found themselves laughing then looked at Kenny, smiling back.

"This sucks ass."

They both chuckled.

[...]

Kyle found himself approaching Cartman while they were entering the school entrance.

"Hey, fatass."

"What up," the fat boy answered while he took out his phone.

"About me saving you did I also bring a sword?," he bite his upper lip before bursting into laughter.

"Ha ha very funny Kahal," the boy said bitterly, "actually not only did you showed up in a shining armor, a sword, but you also kissed me on the lips as I was the damsel in distress." honestly was not the best combat but it was the first thing that came into spot. He wasn't planning to let Kyle have the last word after feeling still bitter about the red head not recalling the previous events.

Kyle was left baffled by that. For some reason Cartman's stupidity was beyond compression but the mystical accusation left him speechless.

Cartman had already proceeded on leaving to class but Kyle just stood there blank hearing a small noise in his ears that kinda sounded like 'hootie and the blowfish'.

In class Kenny had both his hands clenched, excited. He never felt more happy knowing someone does remember! Not only that, but the bound ritual just made their bound strengthen, as he watched Cartman knowing the other boy felt the same. He knew the feelings were true cause he felt it, they both felt each other when their soul united once more 'as gay as that sounds'. Cartman looked back at him sharing that same beaming felling before returning to bother Wendy interrupting her speech with slurs an unwanted opinions.

He always felt alone knowing no one remember him dying, an as much as he had his moments despising Cartman there was now this warmth comforting feeling that someone other than him knew, even if it were a bigot like Cartman. It's not like he could complain much after all, they will be forever bounded by a soul so there's no preventing being connected to one an other.

But he'd care less, he wasn't alone no more.

He smiled once again, he's been feeling all giggly all morning, he just couldn't help it. He was happy and today was just a nice super fantastic day.

School had ended as the bell rang.

The four boys walked with each other discussing what they'll do this evening as a squad.

"What about boar-"

"Stan, I swear to God if you say 'board games' once more I'll kill myself," Cartman interrupted by grunting.

Stan frowned.

"No offense dude, but Cartman's right. We've been playing boards games three times in a row for weeks," Kyle chimed in.

Kenny nodded. He knew Stan had developed a new obsession with board games when he moved to the farm and starting hanging out with Tolkien, which we didn't seem to mind much, but it had gotten boring being repeated multiple times everytime they hang out.

"What about cards?," the blonde suggested.

"Same shit," Cartman rolled his eyes with that.

Is that 'hootie and the blowfish' they began hearing in the background?

"Does anyone hear that?," Stan asked looking around.

"No," Kyle quickly stated.

"Anyways, what about basketball?," Cartman suggested while putting his attention on the others, his hands gripped on to his waist.

"You know what? That doesn't sound like a bad idea Cartman," Stan agreed while turning his focus onto Kyle who seemed kinda spaced out.

"Hm?," the boy said before barfing on Cartman.

'BLEEEEARGH!'

"Ah! Gross dude! Wtf Kahl!?," he wince disgusted wiping off the barf from his jacket, "disgusting!," he kept complaining.

"Sorry!."

"Woah dude," Stan exclaimed.

"I think breakfast didn't do me too well," the boy explained while rubbing his stomach, nauseous.

"Fuck you! You're so fucking disgusting!," Cartman kept rambling angry while walking off, seemingly going home, "ew! Screw you guys I'm going home."

"Sorry, Cartman!," Kyle apologized once more before returning his attention to the others, "so is basketball still on the list?."

"Hell yeah."

Cartman not long after joined the other three with a new jacket staying farther away from Kyle claiming that he didn't want the ginger to barf on him again which the boy rolled his eyes from and Stan calling him out a 'pussy' while continuing playing the game.

It was a nice evening with the four boys peacefully enjoying their company as everthing had turned back to normal.

#south park #eric cartman #kenny mccormick #kyle broflovski #stan marsh #kyman #-ish #sp one-shot #i always loved the idea to jack being a sneaky psychopath behind hes family back #after all they do say genetic plays a huge role when it comes to psychopaths mostly from the father side #idk just found it fun?#a went a little rush at the end but I didn't intend for it to be long #in explanation in Kenny and Cartman #Kenny's is the door into life and Cartman's the door into hell ironically being contrasted in what they are 'life' and 'death' kinda silly #im so tired that they're alot of typos in my tags which im too lazy to fix srry

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