#practicing for tweek week perhaps

[marshbarks]

redraw for fun ♥

[alister312]

fic updates/concepts

spring break is soon for my job which means I’ve got time to write so:

Just Business will continue to publish as normal, aside from this week where it’ll be updated later than usual due to closing ceremony tomorrow. it’s another chapter with BIG revision so I’ll have another “my thoughts” accompanying the link upload.

the Damstophe fic I’ve been working on is almost done (@saturnpanther has been a wonderful beta for it) so that’ll come out soon, get hype!! it’s gonna have a little bit of nsfw 👀 but it’s mostly tame.

every day Davey Solokov gets less and less relevant and yet I still am working on the Lanskov fic… probably will continue to spend a bit of time on that during the break.

something I know for sure I want to start during the break is a Style fic set in an AU I’ve personally really come to love the concept of! i reached out to the creator of the AU for permission and inspo and I think y’all should be excited for this. so excited that i won’t say anything else lol.

as for other fics… I’ve got a couple ideas floating in my head that I’m considering. wanna lay the groundwork for hype here BUT I’m not promising anything so I’ll put the rest below the cut for those truly curious

first off, i have sitting in my drafts like 15 pages of a story currently titled “Gregory Goes to Therapy” wherein, well, Gregory goes to therapy. it’s set to be a gregstophe story with angst. all i have written is the Big Angst bit and my vague ideas outside of what that is. maybe i’ll do something with that eventually or perhaps those 15 pages will never see the light of day.

secondly, along the lines of gregstophe, i’ve conceptualized gregstophe one shots based off every song on Penelope Scott’s “Public Void” album. i’m thinking about doing that as one whole thing. that might be good writing warm up bc i want to try and practice brevity with those.

and AGAIN, still following this gregstophe train, i have a coregstophe one shot that has been on my mind for a while. what’s coregstophe? why it’s corey lanskin, gregory, and christophe ofc. i imagine their dynamic to be similar to people’s idea of gregstophlovski except corey is more chill than kyle

now, there’s 4 longer projects i currently have vaguely conceptualized that i’d like to get around to at some point. in no particular order:

1) a reboot of my Hell in a Handbasket aka zombie apocalypse AU fic. did you know i actually wrote 7 chapters of it but only ever published 2? crazy. anyways now i know where i actually want it to end!

2) i’ve REALLY been vibing with the idea of youth pastor craig/imp tweek lately and so i came up with an idea for a fic involving them. finally my catholic upbringing might come in handy

3) in one of my old RPs, my RP partner and i had this whole rivalry idea going on with the Tucker mafia vs the Cartman mafia. i forget where it came from but i want to do something with that. currently it’s got some creek/crenny vibes in my head but this one is the most vaguely planned

4) again with old RP stuff, it’s a “medieval” AU! this one would be style focused, being from stan’s POV. i’ve got all the different kingdoms w what noble rank each character is all thought out, as well as the main source of conflict. i know it’ll need good pacing to actually work tho and that is daunting

and that’s everything south park related that i’ve currently got on the mind in terms of fics! PLEASE do not hesitate to ask more about any of them, i would love to bounce ideas off of other people <3

[rocksandrobots]

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 26 - Temper

Varian grumbled under his breath as he fiddled with a bunch of wires. He was sitting in his lab at school, trying to get the portal to turn on. The machine had decided not to work at all since his misadventure in the desert.

"Grrr...ow!"

His irritated growl turned to a yelp of pain as he shocked himself. This only drew more curses and angry groans.

He wasn't having a good day.

Heck he wasn't even having a good week. Everything had seemed to go wrong for him ever since he and Hiro had their run in with Momasake on Saturday.

First off, he had just gotten back from his second therapy session this morning and, while it went smoother than the first one had, it still had put him out of sorts for the rest of the day.

Dr. Brown's more reserved and quiet manner suited Varian much better than Dr. Mcguire's cherry earnesty, and he made sure not to delve too much into his past like he had last time. However it still made him feel self conscious to sit on a couch and talk to some stranger about what's bothering him.

He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being analyzed. Much like the way he would dissect a compound to figure out its chemical makeup, so too did the older gentleman study him; peering over his reading glasses, jotting notes down on his yellow notepad, and every so often, stroking his salt and pepper beard in thought.

They talked mostly about the nightmares Varian had been having and ways to mitigate them; habits he could try to form, like going to bed at a regular time everyday or meditation exercises similar to the ones Andrew and the rest of the Saporians would partake in. Varian wasn't sure how much he'd be able to keep up such practices and he kind of doubted that they would help anyways.

And then there was the discussion on medication, which Varian really wasn't thrilled about. Dr. Brown wanted to put him on a small dosage of some sort of 'mood-stabilizing' medicine as he had called it; which only sent alarm bells off in Varian's brain. The doctor was patient enough to walk Varian through what the drug was made of, how it worked, and to reassure him that it was only temporary.

"As a scientist yourself, you must know the importance of experimentation. You won't know if the medicine will help or not until you've tried it for awhile. That is why I'm starting you off on such a low dosage to test it out first." Dr. Brown encouraged.

Varian understood. He understood far better than either the doctor or anyone else would ever know. The brain ran on chemicals, and chemical potions could very much alter behavior and mood if ingested. The right or wrong chemicals could make ones whole personality change or compel them to do things they didn't want to…. Like tell the truth for instance. Yes, he knew that better than anyone, and it was precisely why he was so uncomfortable with idea.

But still, Varian had reluctantly agreed to give it a try anyways. If nothing else than to avoid a long drawn out argument or a lecture from someone. Though doing so had only increased his anxiety.

The second thing that had upped his discomfort was that Aunt Cass had discovered his firework display yesterday.

Instead of being impressed like he had hoped, she had rounded on him for daring to build what she referred to as a "fire safety hazard." She then called Officer Cruz to come and confiscate his stash of firecrackers and gunpowder.

Apparently one wasn't legally allowed to build explosives in one's home, even if you didn't intend any harm with them. He then had to endure two separate lectures from both of them on safety regulations.

Oh, how he hated lectures.

He just about had his fill of them these past three weeks.

He also just about had his fill of Hiro and his 'holier than thou' act. The other boy hadn't brought up the incident with Momosake's knife again, but Varian could sense tension between them anyways.

Varian didn't know if Hiro suspected the truth of what happened inside the vent or not, but the other boy had kept his distance from Varian for the past couple of days anyways. Keeping their conversations short and going quiet whenever he spotted Varian walk into the room.

Despite this, Varian didn't regret his actions at all from that night. He was only protecting his friends after all and it's not like he harmed anyone else other than their attacker.

He couldn't wrap his head around Hiro's concern for a person who actively threatened both him and people he cared about. Being noble and compassionate was one thing; going out of your way to help someone who only wants to hurt you was another.

But that's what made the two of them different, Varian guessed. It was easy being a hero when you've never had to defend yourself from seamingly the entire world; to fight just to survive.

Ever since his arrest and subsequently moving in with the Hamadas, Varian had only been reminded just how much he didn't belong there; of how much he didn't really fit in. As nice as his friends and Aunt Cass were, they really had no understanding of what he'd been through and he still felt alien to this world and to their beliefs. The run in with Momosake only served to heighten his feeling of inadequacy, as if he somehow fell short of the imaginary standards that everyone else seemingly already knew but he somehow didn't.

He kicked the device in aggravation. No, he wasn't having a good time at all and the sooner he could get back to his father then the better.

He took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair as he tried to calm his runaway thoughts. Then he turned back to the console and readied to turn the portal back on, having finished his tweeks to the wiring.

He saw the giant metal ring spark to life as the turbines hummed with power, slowly the blue energy that indicate that the portal was working made its way towards the center, then it crackled, fizzled, and died out as the portal shut itself down.

Varian growled in anger and went to double check the wires again. Nothing off there. He checked the computer. Also okay there.  He even tripled checked the turbine, before trying again.

Nothing.

Varian had had it.

He gave a wordless scream of frustration before knocking his scientific instruments off his desk with a push. He kicked the portal repeatedly and threw anything he could find towards the devious device; yelling curses and venting his rage in angry grunts.

It was petulant perhaps, but Varian didn't care anymore. He was tired. Tired of failing and tired of not being the golden boy like Hiro was. Hiro never got lectures. Hiro never made stuff explode, or flood the whole school, or get trapped in a desert. Hiro never gave in to his darker side. Heck, Varian wasn't even sure he had a darker side.

If the stories were to be believe than Tadashi had been Mr. Perfect and Hiro had followed in his footsteps of being the selfless brave hero. They all had. They were all just so, good and perfect and wonderful, and he..he was broken and he knew it. And the longer he stayed, the more at risk he was of having everyone find out just how broken he truly was.

His angry yells turned to sobs. He didn't know to do with himself anymore. He turned around looking for more things to throw and was greeted by the sight of Honey Lemon and Fred standing in the doorway.

He stopped what he was doing and stood stock still. His face turned beet red and his breath hitched. They were looking on with both shock and alarm and to Varian's horror he realized that had saw everything.

He couldn't stop from bursting into fresh tears as he knew that his friends had gotten yet another look at the cracks in his happy, innocent facade. He crumpled in on himself, plumping down on the ground and hugging his knees to his chest, and then he buried his face in his arms to hide his shame.

"What should we do? Should we get Baymax?" He heard Fred say in a hushed and hurried whispered.

"No, he's with Hiro at his internship, remember?" Honey Lemon whispered back.

"Oh, should we call Gogo then or Wasabi?" Fred suggested instead.

"Umm..I think they're both in class...we're just going to have to help instead." Came Honey Lemon's nervous reply.

"Okay…......how?"

Honey Lemon didn't seem to have an answer for that question and Varian only hugged himself tighter as he feared what their response might be; another lecture, more prying questions into his past, or would they just leave altogether and refuse to have anything to do with him? This last option really scared him and brought more unbidden sobs.

He heard footsteps come closer and felt a gentle hand tentivently touch his shoulder.

"V..Varian?" He heard Honey Lemon ask. She sounded scared. He'd had scared her! Of course he had. Everyone was afraid of him back in Corona. Why should here be any different? He wasn't a hero like his friends, he was the villain and, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, it was what he'd always be.

"Why are you still here?" He sobbed, still not looking up to face them.

"I..I'm sorry. Do, do want us to leave?"

He heard Honey Lemon stammer out this apology and he finally looked up at her in surprise. He searched her eyes in confusion as she continued to apologetically ramble.

"We can go… if you want.. If you think that's best..or..we can stay too. It's up to you..we just want to help.."

Varian cut her off, "No, no, that's not what I meant. I...I just don't why you'd want to stick around...not after...not after.."

He broken down in tears again and he saw Honey Lemon and Fred exchange worried glances.

"We're just worried about you, dude." Fred explained. Honey Lemon nodded in agreement and offered an encouraging smile.

Varian eyed them both warily. "You don't have to be so nice about it. You just saw me wrecking my own lab. I don't want you to feel like your obligated to still hang around just to try and make me feel better."

"Well..if either of us was upset you'd try and help us right? That's just what friends do." Honey Lemon said.

"Oh but, that... that's different. You don't ever get mad."

Honey Lemon pouted, "I...get mad. I just... don't always know how to show it."

She sighed and slumped down next to him, leaning against the wall. "I guess that's not always healthy though."

"Neither is losing you temper and busting up the place." Varian bitterly added. He surveyed the mess around the room. He'd have a lot to clean up once this was over with.

"Weeelll, throwing things isn't...good," she agreed,"but it's okay to be angry if something is bothering you." She reached out and slipped her arms around the crook of his elbow. She then nuzzled her head upon his shoulder while she hugged his arm. "We just need to help you find a better way to express yourself." She cheerfully added, as if this was the easiest and most obvious thing in the world to do.

"Whenever I get in a bad mood, I just give Mole a prank call and that usually makes me feel better." Fred offered up blithely.

Both Honey Lemon and Varian stared at him disquitedly.

"That's..that's also not the best way to handle things." She said frowning.

"Why would you prank call a mole?" Varian asked in confusion. "I mean how would it even have a phone?"

"Not a mole, the Mole." Fred explained exasperatedly. "Richardson Mole; he's my arch nemesis. My greatest rival! The most sneaky and nefarious foe I've ever faced."

"He's the boy who lives next door. They compete over comic book stuff." Honey Lemon clarified to a now even more confused Varian.

"Try 'compete over everything'!" Fred retorted indignantly. "There's no lows to which he wouldn't sink just to show me up." He huffed and plopped down on the floor on front of them.

"Ooookay…..well that wouldn't really work for me," Varian tried to steer the conversation back to solving the current problem, "So, what do you do Honey Lemon? How do you stay so calm all the time?"

"I..don't know if 'staying calm' is the right words for what I do….buuuut, I do love going to a wrestling match now and then; it helps to release tension."

Varian looked at her in surprise. "You wrestle?" On some level he knew that Honey Lemon was a capable fighter, she was a superhero, a modern knight, after all, but it was hard to reconcile the image of the sweet natured girl throwing herself into a tournament ring to slug it out with someone.

"Oh.. Not me, no." Honey Lemon hastily corrected and gave an awkward laugh. "I mean, I wouldn't mind doing it but I'm not a professional, sooo...I just meant I go to watch. It's great fun. No one actually gets hurt and you can be as loud as you want to be." She tugged at a strand of her hair and keep nervously looking back and forth between him and the ground as if admitting some embarrassing truth. "I just like the atmosphere, and it fun to just scream your frustrations out sometimes."

Varian softly laughed, "It's hard picturing you yelling, ever, but it sounds fun. Like those brawl tournaments we have back in Corona. There's a lot of shouting and cheering going on during those too."

She perked up at that."Yeah, exactly like that! Would you wanna come to one? We could all get tickets to the next match!"

"Hey now, waaait a minute." Fred interrupted. "I thought we agreed to boycott the mecha-westling after Mole bought out the league! Please don't tell me you've still been going without me!"

Honey Lemon didn't answer, she just nervously bit her lip as Fred placed his hands on his hips and glared at her in disapproval. He then soon relented and sighed…"Fine, I'll buy us some tickets, but I'm getting us seats to a different league. There's no way I'm giving more money to Mole."

Honey Lemon's face broke out into a huge grin. Happy to have avoided an argument with her friend and even happier to attend her favorite sporting event.

"Well, before I can go anywhere, I need to clean up this mess." Varian sighed. "Thanks for trying to cheer me up, I needed it."

He stood up and started to pick up the broken metal and discarded instruments.

"Oh, we'll help you." Honey Lemon chirped.

"No, you don't have to..it's my mess, I need to be the one to clean it up."

"Yeaah, but if we help it'll go faster and then we can all go get lunch." Fred piped in. "That's why we came by in the first place. It's nearly after one and you haven't left your lab all day. Also you still haven't told us what's bugging you. You've not really been yourself lately."

Varian rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "The portal stopped working. I'm not making any headway and it's been two months now. I guess I'm just worried."

"About your dad?" Honey Lemon interjected.

Varian nodded."Yeah, that and other things. So far I've only managed to create a working spacial portal, not a interdimensional one, and even then I can't figure out how to control where it opens up at."

"Then why not focus on that first?" Fred suggested. Varian looked at him in surprise, so he explained further. "Why not master the spacial stuff, get it where you can pinpoint global places, and then work your way up from there? It's like learning martial arts; you start small before learning more complex moves."  

"It's nothing like martial arts." Varian insisted, "but, that may not be a bad idea." He relented as he ran the possibilities through his mind; mastering more local coordinates could help in figuring out how to reach his own world.

Honey Lemon also stood up and wrapped him in another hug. "You'll figure it out it!I know you will!" She encouraged.

Fred also joined in on the hug before adding, "Yeah, but before then let's get this place cleaned up and go grab a noodle burger. I’m starving."

[magicalcreeks]

Happy Birthday, Stan

Summary: Kyle only wanted to throw Stan the perfect Birthday Party

Pairing: Style

It’s still Stan’s birthday here and since I can't draw I wanted to write a fic for his birthday with one of my favorite pairings. Enjoy!

...

Kyle was way over his head with an ambition greater than his ego. He, holding the title of Stan’s super best friend had to make sure his birthday went smoothly— and, with that same logic, it required Kyle to take full responsibility of the surprise party he wanted to throw him.

Premature chaos bubbles underneath of foundation of the Broflovski household, as the agenda Kyle set for the preparation of Stan’s surprise party went askew. He looked over the scene of Butters, Kenny, and Cartman sitting on the respective corners of the rectangular dining table with mounds of glitter glue and ribbon borrowed from Ike’s arts and crafts set resting on the floor, along with misshapen cutouts from their assortment of construction paper. Kyle’s red curls sprung over his eyes, they bounced along with his deep inhales. In the back of his mind, a feeling of leaving these idiots alone gnawed on him. Kyle placed two hands firmly on the wooden surface to see the progress being made between the three boys, again overhyping their artistic abilities since the art they created looked as if a dog chewed it, swallowed, and immediately spat it back up. The glue had already crusted along the edges of the paper, and the letters they cut out then pasted appeared lopsided. “What the hell is this?” Kyle demanded an explanation, noticing the time on the ticking clock hanging on his wall from the corner of his eye. This was no good. Cleanup wasn’t apart of the agenda. Stan was expected to arrive in less than two hours once he was done with therapy. Kyle knew his schedule like the back of his hand. Every week when Stan had his therapy session his father would pick him up and take him to Denny’s— for a painfully awkward conversation— then when his father dropped him off at his mothers house, Stan would text Kyle all about it until their conversation dissolved into them sending outdated memes to one another for the hell of it. Kyle has his hand balled into a tight fist on his side. He marched into the kitchen to grab the roll of paper towels and tossed it to Kenny in an aggressive pass, “clean this shit up, we have an hour until everyone arrives.” “Oh, Gee, how are we supposed to clean when we’re all sticky?” Said Butters, taking the towel sheet from Kenny’s hand and feeling it stick to his fingers. “Figure it out, Butters.” “Calm your Vagina.” Eric’s been snacking on the bag of cheesy puffs Kyle stocked on for this occasion. “Shut the fuck up, fatass,” he wrestled the bag out of Eric’s hands. It was upon retrieving it when he realized how empty the bag was, with his fingers clenching onto nothing but air and cheese dust. Really? Then he rolled his eyes, pressing down hard on the garbage pale to open the lid. He released the bag from his fingers and heard the plastic crinkle upon impact. “Um, about that,” Kenny pauses on his cleaning, unsure yet unnerved on what to say to Kyle in his current disposition. Instead, he reached into his raggedy bag and removed a stack of neatly, untouched, envelopes, “Eric never handed out the invitations.” “Kenny, you fucking sell out.” Eric hissed underneath his breath even though Kyle could hear him as plain a day. “And it’s not that I didn’t hand them out, no one wanted them. Apparently, we’re assholes but they’re all just pussies.” “Well, I don’t think you fellas are assholes.” Butters pepped up shyly, exchanging a smile with Kenny who, in the time they have been speaking, had moved over a little too close to him. “No one gives a shit, Butters, gosh.” Kyle rubbed soothing circles around his temples. Off of Stan’s own recommendation he had decided to practice with new ways to handle his anger— even though the steady foundation had boiled over with the immense fear of everything that could’ve gone wrong, going wrong, making Kyle the perfect candidate for bitching up a storm. For the sake of Stan’s birthday, he will try to work with whatever shit he had. “Okay, we have a little less than two hours to get this place cleaned up. Butters, do you know how to make a cake?” “Why sure, Tweek’s been showing me a bunch of new recipes—“ Kyle cut him off, “okay, okay,” next he turned to Kenny and Eric, “Kenny, you work with Butters because I don’t trust Cartman near the cake batter. Fatass, you’re with me. Help me set up the table.” Kenny did a soldiers salute and carried off into the kitchen to help Butters gather the ingredients required for making an edible cake. “Cartman, so help me if you keep fucking around-“ “Can you relax, Kyle? I’m not going to fuck up your chance with your puking boyfriend.” “W-What the hell are you talking about?” Kyle could not hide the red trailing across his pale, freckled covered cheeks. Boyfriend? Cartman being an asshole or not his comment shouldn’t have prompt such a reaction out of him. He was only doing this for his super best friend. Sure, sometimes Stan’s parents and his own joked about them being a little too close, but they were friends. Eric rolled his eyes, “you two are so fucking gay, even Cupid Me could see it.” “Cupid what?” A crash was heard in the kitchen followed by a series of apologies recognized to be Butters voice and Kenny’s string of reassurances. This party had officially downgraded to a complete clusterfuck. Kyle sighed. Perhaps he did bite off more than he could chew. ... “The cake looks great, Leo.” “Really? Do you think so?” Butters wiped his hand on his cheek, transferring a thin line of flour and chocolate icing onto his face. Kyle stood, amazed that they were actually able to produce something out of all of this. The cake looked amazing, with Stan’s name written on the top with bright red letters, “Yeah. Good job, Butters.” “Thanks, Kyle!” Kenny wrapped an arm around his shoulders, letting Kyle know of his cue. He checked his watch. Stan should be here soon. He stepped into the dining room to see the table had been completely transformed. It almost looked better than its original state, with the construction paper scraps thrown on the floor scavenged and made into a string decoration spelling out: Happy Birthday Stan. Eric secured the knot on the table’s leg. “I didn’t know you were artistic.” Eric stood up with an annoyed grunt. Of fucking course he was artistic. He just thought he would go the extra mile to appease Kyle’s man period. He grunted, then handed over the project they worked on prior— cleaned up and framed. “Don’t patronize me. I know Jews can’t do anything creative so...” he shrugged. Kyle was so happy with what he was seeing that he allowed himself to brush off Cartman’s anti-semitic remark. instead, he decided to keep it in mind in his vault of retorts for later. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch. They really pulled their shit together. The doorbell ringed. Kyle placed the frame back on the table and instructed them all to get into their places. Before he let Stan in he had to do something first. “Oh, hey, dude.” Stan was going to ring the bell again before the door opened. He offered a lopsided smile and stuffed his chilled hands in his pockets. It was so good to see Kyle after suffering through another lunch of his father pathetically ranting about not being able to move on. It didn’t help that he was drinking either. “Uh, you okay? Can I come in?” Kyle stepped out on the step Stan was standing on, leaving the front door cracked behind him and telling the others to stay quiet to that they wouldn’t ruin the surprise. “Happy Birthday, man.” Why did he feel so nervous? Kyle played with his fingers and various hangnails, his stomach twisting into a rather painful knot. Stan raised a brow then examined Kyle from head to toe to make sure he wasn’t suffering from any physical injuries. He couldn’t say much mentally. “Thanks. You know I don’t like to make a big deal about it...” Kyle nodded, “Yeah, of course, I know... how was your session?” He also knows how much Stan loathes anyone saying therapy aloud. It implied there was something wrong with him. Yes, while he was still figuring out ways to cope with his depression, the word made something within him stir. C’mon, spit it out Broflovski. Stan shrugged his shoulders and bounced on the balls of his feet, “it was fine, are you sure there’s nothing wrong? Are you getting the flu or something?” “No, I’m fine.” Kyle humored him with a light chuckle that eased the anxiety he felt. Looking at how far Stan has come he was proud to see someone he cared about healthy and happier than he had been before he started faking it. “Good. Because like, it can kill you. If there’s no quarantine can we head inside now?” Kyle stopped him again, receiving a strange look but saying nothing of it. He took in a big inhale of air, “Stan, I, um, I really like you. I like like you. I apologized before for not being there the way I should but being beside you know I’m proud to see your progress... I’m really fucking proud, dude. I don’t know if this is too gay or not but for your birthday I thought I would be the gift... I mean, if you feel the same way-“ A warmness pressed against Kyle’s lips, and before he had time to realize he was getting kissed, Stan had already pulled away. Stan had a smile matching the one he would give to Wendy when stricken with the love he thought he had for her. “I like like you too.” Said Stan, his red face matching the shade of Kyle's hair. He parted his lips to say something, until... The door opened, “Jesus fucking Christ, Kyle, can we get this over with already? Happy Birthday, Stan.” And Cartman went off, mumbling something about being friends with a bunch of homos. He left the door open enough that Stan could see Butters and Kenny waving at him, and the set up they had for him. “Yeah, of course, I know?” Stan imitated his voice. How he got so lucky to get decent friends and an amazing super best friend was beyond him. “Um, surprise?” Kyle rubbed the back of his neck. Hoping for another kiss. Stan leaned in for another kiss, “surprise!” Butters yelled, making the two boys flinch. Yeah, it was a surprise alright. Stan and Kyle fell into a fit of laughter. Happy Birthday, Stan.

[comeondowntosouthparkrpg-blog]

Kyle Broflovski

I hope you learned something today.

Kyle has been accepted! Please send in your blog link.

out of character info Name/Alias: Samantha Pronouns: she/her Age: 26 Join Our Discord: I’m in it Timezone: EST Activity: 6 Triggers: Password: fast pass my ass jimbo Character that you’re applying for: Kyle Broflovski Favourite ships for your character: anything tbh

in character info

Full name: Kyle Edom Broflovski Birthday: May 26th, 2001 Sexuality, gender, pronouns: bisexual, out, he/him Age and grade: 17 & senior Face claim: Harry Smith Personality: Kyle’s personality is often all over the place. To say he’s temperamental is an understatement, considering how quick to violence and harsh words he is. Perhaps it has to do with his New Jersey heritage, or the stress from the work he puts in, or maybe something else entirely. But the anger is a defining characteristic. Often this leads Kyle to getting into some various fight, be it with his mother or a peer, his wall or a tree when he escapes to the mountains to get away from the irritating people of South Park and forget about shit. Therapy or a yoga class would likely do him good, though Kyle often prefers to take his rage out on something a little harder. Because of his, his slender fingers are crooked and covered in scars from where the skin and bones broke during a fit of punches at a tree or door or brick wall. Or, if he’s lucky, someone’s face. Though Kyle isn’t angry all the time. There are plenty of times where he’s rather calm, such as focused at his desk writing in his various journals, finishing his school work, or reading. Being alone is cathartic, and peaceful. Though Kyle is often content and relaxed when he’s around those he cares about, he has the capabilities of being sweet, though he isn’t really aware of it. He does try, but often when he tries he falls short and hopefully he’ll learn to go with the natural flow and feel his emotions freely without overthinking it.

Which is another huge part of Kyle, thinking everything into oblivion until he’s lost in his own head and finding himself suffocated by his thoughts. Because of this he’s often insecure and paranoid, and desperate to forget about it. Which recently has gotten him into a bit of a sticky spot with someone else.

As well, if there’s one thing Kyle is that could be considered positive, it’s determined. When he knows what he wants, Kyle stops at nothing until he gets it. Case point for him is Yale, refusing to accept any other school that isn’t Ivy League. His classes are plentiful and filling his lunch breaks and several hours after class, leaving him with more than enough credits to have graduated. His determination has put him in various activities such as Student Council, DARE, Mathletes, Basketball and the debate team.

History: Kyle grew up in a fairly stereotypical Jewish household. Well, it was fairly stereotypical until he was ten and discovered his fathers very concerning internet hobby. But aside from that, it was Passover baskets, separate cooking utensils for meat and dairy. Absolutely no bacon. Or ham. Or mixing cheese and meat, which lead to a lot of envy over the other children who were able to eat cheeseburgers. But it wasn’t bad. The Christmas holidays often fell over Hanukkah, and even when they didn’t it was a few weeks off of school to bum around with his friends.

Everything with middle school was a preparation for high school, which was a preparation for college. Kyle worked to be top of every class, finding a taste for black coffee early on to stay up late and stay caffeinated for the school day. It began with sneaking instant coffee from the jar, to spending his allowance at Tweek Tweaks (by far the superior of the options, too). Cream didn’t agree with him, and he had to carefully monitor his diabetes.

As for family, Kyle’s current closest confidant is Ike, his adopted younger brother from the Great White North. Even though the kid was eleven, going on twelve, Kyle could tell he was going to far superior in intellect than he was. There was always the nagging jealousy over it, because Ike was a natural where Kyle just worked. Although Ike would often argue that it was worse, he felt like he had no passion. Kyle just chalked it up to preteen angst, although he wouldn’t doubt if it turned into strong teenage rebellion in a few years. He wouldn’t put it past his kid brother to dismantle governments before college. Now that Kyle was in high school himself, it was a whole new ball game. Or rather, the same game but what felt like a hundred times more stressful. He had no idea what he wanted to do in the future, no set career goal. Which meant Kyle needed to cover all options. The first semester of ninth grade had simply been used to assimilate him. Since the second semester of his first year, Kyle had worked with the guidance counsellor to get as many class credits as he could. Since then, he opted out of his lunch hour to fill it with more classes, and now in eleventh grade didn’t take the allotted study periods. Most used them to piss off school grounds and fuck around the city, but Kyle filled them with more classes. The workload was obscene, and Kyle spent every waking moment studying, working on projects. After school was used for extracurriculars, basketball, track. Kyle needed to cover all grounds. His goal was Yale, Harvard as a second. For what, he didn’t know, he simply knew he wanted to leave this shitty town and go Ivy League.

Anything less was unacceptable.

Headcanons: { 💥 } • Has clear anger issues, and attempts to manage them as best he can. Gives himself self-ratings from 1-5 in his head about it. One being general pissed offedness, three being angry as hell, five being blinding, inandescent black out rage. { 💥 } • Can forgive incredibly easily, but will rarely get over or forget wrongdoings. { 💥 } • Extra as fuck. This is the boy who went to commit murder, would have burnt down the school, and caused Canada to be nuked, after all. { 💥 } • While often portrayed as the logical one, Kyle’s most likely to react with passion as opposed to ration. He’s quick to violence, quick to make rash decsions, only to use reason after or when it doesn’t affect him. Kyle should practice what he preaches, but he tends to be a person that’s “do as I say, not as I do” type person { 💥 } • Always wanting to be bettering himself, which is a mountain he struggles to climb. But he always tries to go at least two steps forward one step back. { 💥 } • Absolutely hates when people put him into a box. He does not revolve around the fact he’s Jewish, he’s more than that, for instance. { 💥 } • Hates that his name means handsome redhead when he’s only one of those things. { 💥 } • Does not have freckles. At all. Do not even say he does. He does, however, have a strawberry shaped birth mark on his butt. { 💥 } • Started writing his anger down in notebooks in fifth grade when people (Eric) started pissing him off. Eventually it just became a good way to try to organize his life and now keeps them as a way to plan schedules, track lists, keep notes, things he’s learned, etc down. A lot of the ones from September have complex starbucks orders written down { 💥 } • Wears reading glasses. { 💥 } • Doesn’t stand for people blaming their actions on mental health problems. He tries to explain his actions as mistakes or poor judgement or decision making. Hates when people make excuses. Doesn’t blame his anger issues on his life, or his health issues, etc. Blames them on the fact he’s just stupid and makes mistakes. { 💥 } • Loves plants and trees. Is a nature freak. { 💥 } • Likely knows the woods better than anyone else in the town. Will be there most of the summers, and weekends in the warmer weather. Goes there to get away from people, and to calm himself down if upset. Has several favourite places. { 💥 } • Drives a 2017 Toyota Prius (White) { 💥 } • Will live and die eating Nutella { 💥 } • Is a fighter, obviously. Has no qualms throwing punches, and doesn’t intend to stop fighting until he’s physically removed from the situation. Kyle needs to have his eye contact actively broken, because he fights like a damn Rottweiler and sees eye contact as a challenge. { 💥 } • has probably the worst style known to man kind, if it’s ugly, he loves it. Specifically enjoys cable knit sweaters and corduroy pants.

Anything else: Family headcanons:

{ 🔥 } • Gerald has taken Sheila’s name. This is because Grandma Broflovski is Sheila’s mother, which means Gerald would have had to have taken Sheila’s last name. She’s a strong independent woman who needs no man but when she did she made him take her name. { 🔥 } • Got pregnant fairly young, and was unmarried, while living with her mother. Because her pregnancy helped Sheila realize she wanted to leave her jersey life, her and Gerald had a shotgun wedding before moving to South Park. { 🔥 } • Sheila had complications with her pregnancy with Kyle, and was no longer likely to have children after Kyle. { 🔥 } • Spent several years trying for another child with treatments before settling on adoption, ending up with a closed adoption and bringing Ike into the family. { 🔥 } • Gerald was once best friends with Stuart McCormick. Ended up resentful. Gerald moved to Jersey to continue his law degree. Gerald and Sheila chose South Park to move to from New Jersey because it was his hometown. { 🔥 } • Gerald, because of his fights with Stuart, thinks Kenny is a no good street rat and hates Kenny hanging around the house. Sheila, however, adores him. Gerald doesn’t complain about him while she’s around, but he has no issue with saying it around Kyle. { 🔥 } • Kyle, as mentioned, is a daddy’s boy. Because of how similar he is to his mother, they often butt heads. Gerald has dealt with this his whole life, and loves his angry wife and son and can handle them both just fine. { 🔥 } • However, Ike is similar to him in many ways, and this can cause Gerald and Ike to be distant to each other. { 🔥 } • Isn’t affectionate with Ike the same was he is Kyle. Sheila is far more affectionate with Ike, where Kyle pulls away. { 🔥 } • Sheila will believe Ike in every lie he says, without question. A lot of her favouritism of him stems from guilt from things like the Canusa War and forgetting his 13th birthday Photograph: