#Goth Kid Michael

[brian-th0mas]

On this edition of bad news: Goth Kids take over South Park

[shhh-secret-time]

Seasons Change to Someshing Cold

"Run away, run away and let go; you're carrying too much. You'll break under all the weight."

Prologue

It started when he was ten. Or maybe before that, and he just can't really seem to remember, but does anyone when they open their eyes for the first time? Waking up to a world that greets you with dim colors, colors that seem to fade in and out like the seasons. But if you're anything like he is, then colors don't pop like they should. Everything is dull like a filter over his eyes he can't peel off. Maybe that was a common way to describe it, but there had to be a reason why so many people said the same thing.

Dull. That word popped up so much that it was starting to lose its weight. Even he had to admit he used it too many times in his songs or the little poems he secretly wrote in the back of his warped composition notebook. But how else was he supposed to describe it? Why fix something that's not broken, right?

It started when he was sixteen. Cheap whiskey and crumbled cigarettes coursing through his body; hazy nights lost in the bottom of some backwashed alcohol. Waking up in the back of his truck with a few missed calls from his mother or sister, never his father, wondering where he was and if he was safe. That's when the texts asking him if he was alright turned into ones telling him to get his shit together.

Or maybe it started with the farm. Screaming matches between his father getting louder and louder he swore someone in town was bound to hear them. Where the bags under his eyes got heavier and his mind got louder, so loud that even his music couldn't drown out the thoughts. Some nights it was lying on the floor of the bathroom trying not to vomit the cheap gas station food as it battled the alcohol in his stomach. Some nights it was him curled up in bed trying to find a reason to get up and do anything besides doom scrolling on his phone.

What he would have given to just go outside with his friends and get the rush of doing something. Anything. Instead of watching some stranger on his phone, do it. Like he was trying to squeeze that feeling out of the little box in his hands. Instead of sunlight, he'd settle for the screen's light in a dark room. His only saving grace was his guitar and his poetry. It felt like the only thing that got him through it some days. That’s when the fog would lift, and the seasons would change into something warmer. Where he'd pick his pen and create, his addiction turning into creation. The guitar strings digging into his fingertips would ground him and bring the color back for a little bit.

It started last month. He finally pulled himself out of bed. Talked to someone outside of class or one of the million parties he showed up to. It was Michael, someone he hadn't put merit in since middle school, the two sitting behind the school wasting time and probably years off his lifespan with a cigarette. Michael was the only one he really showed any of his poetry too, the two sitting in silence as he flipped through the book. Smoke billowing from his lips catching the light of the early sun and disappearing up into the clouds.

"It's good. Maybe a little rough around certain parts, but I get what you're trying to say." Michael pulled the cigarette from his lips and in between his fingers, giving it a new home. He was getting at praising the things around him, something that he grew into when he hit his senior year.

He didn't say anything as he rolled the cigarette between his lips, focusing on the burn in the back of his throat. He didn't need it to be good. He just needed it...to be heard. Maybe he didn't believe Michael really understood what he was trying to say, but it felt good to hear.

"I think you need to talk to someone though." He turned towards the taller man as he stood up using his cane. The silver tip tapping the ground wordlessly asking him to take a step back and give him space.

"I didn't realize you cared." His joke falls flat.

Michael doesn't laugh. Doesn't give him that pity laugh or nervous chuckle others do when he tries to deflect. Not that the goth was known for his laughter to begin with. He liked that about him. He was real.

What he didn't like was the way the curly haired man stared him down and silently took another puff of his cigarette. It made his skin crawl as the silence crept back over the two, but it wasn't the one he liked. The kind of silence where two friends could just bask in each other's presence, the warmth of their bodies reminding each other that they were there. He hadn't had that kind of silence with anyone in a long time, but he felt something like that when Michael was reading his work.

"Stan. I'm not the type to give you a lecture, preach to you about how it gets better." Michael breaks the tension when he's decided Stan's had enough, "I don't make pretty speeches, so I'll just come out and say it. Get help, talk to someone about what's going on in your head."

Stan's jaw shifts as he blows smoke from his nose, his eyes immediately shooting towards the ground. "I didn't say I needed your advice. I just wanted you to read what I wrote." He grumbles.

"I don't care what you want. I do care about you though, as much as I can." Michael responds with a bored expression like the venom in Stan's tone didn't even touch him.

"What's that supposed to mean? Am I that hard to care about?"

"Sometimes, but it's not because I don't like you honestly. You're one of the few that don't drain me." Michael pauses in between snuffing the light out of his cigarette on the brick wall behind him, being careful not to put it out on some of the artwork. "It's because it's like you don't want people to care."

Stan scoffs and rolls his eyes; he's not taking pulls from his cigarette anymore so he can feel the wind brushing against his lips. The cold nipping against his skin reminding him that it's here. The seasons are changing again.

"At least that's what I got from your writing, now if I'm looking too much into it than that's that." Michael taps his cane against the dirty stone, brushing away some crumpled-up newspaper as he limps over towards him. "You could always tell me I'm wrong."

God does Stan want to, to tell him to shut up and to stop talking. The embarrassing memory of him losing his cool in middle school flooding back into his mind, he squeezes his eyes shut to try and blink the thought away. The thoughts clawing at his lips trying to push themselves out.

".... When I graduate, I'm leaving South Park. I'm getting out of this hellhole and finding another one to call my own." Stan looks up from his feet at him as he speaks, "I might not find anything but it's better than wishing I did. Find something Stan, do something instead of wishing you could." Michael goes to walk past him like he didn't just pierce through any wall Stan tried to put up, maybe his poetry got too much across.

Find something.

Fuck that. He didn't have the energy or the time to deal with that.

"Here." Michael presses a worn-out looking card in his palm. Stan looks down at the creases where it was folded and unfolded over and over again.

Some therapist's business card looked like a woman's name if Stan had to guess, the address and phone number written in small text. His brows furrow together, and suddenly everything feels too heavy again. He feels too tired to walk back to class or even try and eat lunch with his friends.

"Do it or don't, I can't control you, but I don't waste my energy on people I don't care about. I can just hope you'll be here when I come back one day."

And that was the last thing Michael ever said to him, the last time he smelled the clover cigarettes in the air. The last time he ever showed his writing to someone. Rumors floating around school that he just packed a bag and left in his hand me down car he got from his mother. He didn't even wait for the school year to be over he left exactly how Stan thought he would.

Now it starts here. With him staring out the window, wondering what exactly it was that Michael was going to find out there. Stan presses his lips into the palm of his hand, hiding behind the fingerless gloves. The card tucked away in his worn-out brown jacket with his other hand, palming the card repeatedly bending it over and over.

Prologue | 1 | 2

[michuyox]

South park shenanigans (P1???)

[twinkpriest]

i did a goth kid lineup about a year ago soooooo uh here’s a slightly newer and improved one. slay

[green-alien-turdz]

Goths in their natural climate. The world is healing.

[gy4rucartman]

goth kids slice of life brought to you by mod vulture

(the pic descriptions have more context)

[buttfrovski]

burn down the hot topic

[dollefied]

goth kids in da barbie box

[pineappleciders]

helloooo!! was wondering if you could do headcanons on what it would be like to be friends with the goths from south park. :) if you could that would be awesome thanksss! 💗☺️

BEING IN THEIR FRIEND GROUP; THE GOTH KIDS

INCLUDES: pete thelman, michael, henrietta biggle, and firkle smith

they probably just saw you as another asshole conformist at first and just ignored you

as you start to get closer and bond with all of them more it's a bit confusing,,, you dress like a normie and look like one so why are you hanging out with them???

henrietta tells you that you have to dress goth if you wanna hang around them. she doesn't want to be seen with a conformist 🙄🙄

you hang out at henrietta's and she gives u a goth makeover while listening to goth music. she's converting you

when you show up at the bus stop the next day looking like edgar allen poe they just kinda check u out for a moment before giving an approving nod

despite your makeover, you still haven't really gotten into the whole death & despair thing and pete reminds u all the time to stop being such a 'goody-two-shoes', as he calls it.

"can i get an orange juice?"

"no, asshole, you have to get black coffee! god, do you know anything about goth culture??"

i can see u being firkle's babysitter and he like. threatens you to not tell ANY of the goth kids about it unless u want to die. ez blackmail

lots of nights where u all just sit on a hill and look out over stark's pond and smoke... if u won't smoke firkle and pete call you a pussy

when you hang out with any of the popular kids they get like. borderline upset and sigh and flip their hair and shit

"ugh, you're still hanging out with those guys? y'know, goths don't hang around popular greasy jocks. goths stick to their own. you wouldn't know."

they r jealous u have other friends but they're taking that to the grave

always dragging you into shit, especially if you're preppy or a straight-A student.

"i can't skip class! i have no absences, i can't stop now!"

"jesus fucking christ.."

they r kinda mean sometimes but it's tough love!!! the only one i could see really admitting he cares for u as a friend is pete, and that would be when you two are alone. if you told anyone he'd never talk to u again

u like to annoy michael as he's walking around or to class. like just follow him chatting about literally anything or poke him and watch him over his shoulder and he's going NUTS. it's so fun though

you, henrietta, and firkle dye your hair together in your teen years, like your favorite colors . michael thinks it's stupid and pete calls it gay (but secretly wants to too)

they'll never say it but it honestly makes them all really happy if they turn on gothic music and you start bobbing your head or say you like it. you might catch one of them smiling at you while you rock out but it quickly disappears

[gersploosh]

whatever

[brian-th0mas]

That one episode where he had a small dick

[sp-lsp]

Goths at the beach what will they do

(click for better quality)

[cat-brrr]

[twinkpriest]

they’re hangin out. maybe they’ll watch eraserhead for the millionth time

[mister-myst]

Hey guys,

[southpark-trashfactory]

Phew, this took me so long, but I'm really happy with how all these came out! There's a couple oddballs in these line ups, so I'll just go ahead and explain some less direct headcanons: So Tara is just the name I gave to that one random background goth girl in season 8 episode 7, cause I thought her design was really cute and I wanted to draw her, and then I thought since Stan's goth name is Raven, I could name her Tara and now I have the dumb little headcanon that Stan and her wrote "My Immortal" (Since that fanfic was written by two girls named Tara and Raven) I also headcanon her as Michael's younger adoptive sister who he doesn't let hang out with his friends cause he thinks she's a poser. and Alexandra Cartman is Cartman's cousin from Season 2 episode 16, I really like the idea of her meeting and being friends with Shelley and Kevin. (I also headcanon her as trans cause I like to think she told Cartman about transgender people before "The Cissy" and that's why he had some accurate information despite clearly not really knowing much more than surface level stuff, and then she pushes him into a snowbank for the stunt he pulls ) I also drew the goth kids (and Ike, Karen and Tricia) WAY before the PC specials came out, so their designs don't really have any influence from their canon adult designs. Which is kind of a shame cause I really liked Firkle's post covid design being a big beefy tatted up punk, but I'm too attached to my little rat version of Firkle to make any changes lol.