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#tall goth sp
gy4rucartman · 8 months
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goth kids slice of life brought to you by mod vulture
(the pic descriptions have more context)
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electricwalkman · 6 months
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“If you wanna be one of the non-conformist, all you have to do is dress up like us and listen to the same music we do…”
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fennecfiree · 3 days
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teeth-farm · 2 months
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I’d sell a kidney for these assholes to get another episode dedicated to them.
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c0untfagula · 8 months
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My half of an arttrade for the lovely @gy4rucartman ^_^
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spgothkidsheadcanons · 5 months
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hiiii!! can u plz do michael tall goth and reader who is his little sister? (platonic obv) but id rlly apriciatge it if u sdidd!!!!!!! :333333
Of course! I know it took forever, but I’m just coming back off of hiatus!
I hope you enjoy!
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Michael/Little Sister Reader
**PURELY PLATONIC**
- Dude being Michael’s little sister is simutaneously a pain in the ass and the greatest thing in the world
- Growing up, he was always kind of a dick to you, but he always made sure that you had breakfast before school and help with your homework when you needed it
- As he got older, he definitely mellowed out, and you’d have to say that despite the rocky, distant childhood, you two grew so much closer
- Are you hungry? He’s ushering you to the car, ready to eat whatever you are
- Saw something you liked but had to wait to get? It’s already delivered to your house, waiting for you to open it with an attached note that probably says “Because I’m not broke like you”
- And even though you’d be mad about the message, you couldn’t help but finally feel that your brother maybe was more than an asshole
- He’s very very very protective of you in the later years
- Can, will, (and has), knocked someone out for bothering you, and by god, he will do it time and time again
- So yeah, while he can be a butthead, you’re his little sister, and the only harm he wants to see you in is what he puts you in himself
- Overall, 8/10 big brother score ☺️
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gotyckasztuka · 4 months
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Thought I might share some sketches of mine... Anyways, teen goth kids from South Park 🦇
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krist-420 · 11 months
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Goth Kids listening to The CURE “Just Like Heaven “
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meegan420 · 1 year
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🖤Goth Kids🖤South Park/South Paws🐾
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rattpoisonn · 3 months
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drew the goth kids :)
please give me tips on drawing bodies!!
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Pajama day! Or, perhaps, Morpheus day would be more fitting? 🌒
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gy4rucartman · 8 months
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wont you ever know that im in love with you?
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electricwalkman · 6 months
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I love how Michael, the oldest of the goth kids, aged the best outta all of them in the specials
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noxiiovs · 2 years
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colored michael sketch
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jackalopes-pen · 11 months
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Phone calls
Summary: Michael has been dead for a year now, and Pete is struggling with the death of his friend. He copes by leaving him voicemails, however he feels a wave or shock when someone returns his call.
Fandom: South Park ( aged up) | Goth kids (Henrietta Biggle, Pete Thelman, Firkle Smith, Michael ... Tall one)
A/N: First time writing south park fanfic! Lemme know if it is shitty or not, really trying figure out how to write these characters before I get a larger project under way.
Word Count: 1,281
Pete was well aware that this was not very goth. To leave voicemails on his friend's number that would never be heard was so stupid. He still did it, though. Still scrolled down to Michael's name and called waiting for the answering machine just to hear his voice. He still left some update on their lives and how the world still turned without him. He told answering machine about how that song he wrote hit the top 10. He told the machine that they were gaining popularity as a goth band, and that the name he suggested was the one they signed with. Sometimes he just cried after the tone, unable to process.
Today was so much worse then other days. Today it had been one full year since he died. He died to someone else's hand in a hate crime not even to his own. His tombstone read that he was a 'great daughter'. Fucking bigots. Pete kneeled down to the stone, and put a tapped note over daughter, reading now "A great son, friend, and unfortunate martyr." He would have apricated that, right? Pete stood back, on the path staring at the grave. He put the phone to his ear, staring down the flowers of someone who was supposed to answer.
One ring, two rings, three...
"Hey. This is Michael, I'm kinda busy so leave your name I'll consider getting back to you. Unless you're a conformist." the recording stopped with a tone. Leave a message... another message.
"Hey Michael, it's Pete. Just wanted to let you know that I came back to visit you," Pete could hear his voice breaking as he continued "Tried to fix that stupid mistake on your stone. Those conformists can't even let you rest in peace? They really are assholes. Anyway, call me back when you can. I miss you."
Pete slipped the phone back in his pocket. He wanted to stay at that grave for an eternity and hope something would change. It wouldn't though, he knew that. He talked himself into leaving, going to his car and driving to his shared apartment with Henrietta and Firkle. They'd probably get onto him for this and tell him to move on. It's hard to move on damn it. Give him time.. or more time.
"Hey, I'm back." Pete said as he entered their apartment.
"Went to visit him?" Henrietta said from the couch, writing something in her journal.
"Yeah, if you're gonna give me shit can you save it til tomorrow?" Pete responded, flopping down the couch beside her.
"Not today. I know it's hard and all. If this is how you handle it, then so be it." Henrietta said, clearly more focused on her lyrics.
"It's almost poser-ish is what it is," Firkle said emerging from his room with drum sticks in hand. "He's gone, let it go."
"It's easy for you to say! We were close, and I just-" Pete stopped his rebuttal when his phone rang in his pocket. He took it out and froze as he saw the caller.
"What's up with you?" Henrietta said, suddenly perking up.
"He's.. he's calling me back." Pete said, some mix of happiness and confusion and fear all churning in his stomach.
'Well, answer it!" Firkle said impatiently.
Pete did just that. He swiped to answer the call and quickly put it on speaker. He set the phone down on the coffee table, almost scared to hold it in case it was a dream or something. They all waited in silence, for whatever was on the other end of the call.
"Hey Pete, sorry I couldn't answer earlier. Whatever though. I'm at the good CVS on fifth, you need anything?" It was Michael's voice, loud and clear. The sounds of shitty drug store music were barely audible through the phone. It was him.. it had to be. "Hello? Are you about blast a chord again?"
"No, no. I'm here. How- uh... how are you?" It was pathetic but it was all Pete could muster. He wanted to say a million things to him, but couldn't find the words for any of it.
"Uh.. could be better, could be worse. You good, red? You sound like you're talking to a ghost." Hearing that old nickname was enough to break him a little on the inside. Only Michael called him that, and he still was calling him that.
"I'm- I'm good. Do you mind being on speaker? We're all here, about to start writing."
"Nah, I don't mind. Glad the band took off though, that's pretty fucking impressive."
"Your song helped us out a lot, I wish you could've written more." Henrietta finally spoke up.
"Yeah, you know.. not really my decision about the whole thing. I did hear you guys used my name idea. I thought it was pretty bad but, I guess if it works." Pete was so confused at this point. He seemed to know he was gone, but here he was on the phone. Pete almost wanted to run to the CVS and look for him, even though he'd probably find nothing.
"Hey, while you're there.. can you pick up some of those gummy bears? We're running low." Firkle said, tentatively. He was trying to play into the daydream.. maybe Pete should. Maybe this was the casual conversion they never got to have. That last talk.
"Sure, kid. Anything else? Hen, you still like those chocolate pretzel things right?"
"Yeah- yeah. I can pay you back for them." Henrietta was close to tears. It was rare that he called even them their actual names to their faces. These old nicknames.. it hurt to hear them again.
"You don't have to. Red, you?"
"Oh, can you see if they have Marlboro? I'm on my last pack." Pete felt the lump in throat grow. It was such a normal conversation, with a dead man.
"Sure, yeah. Okay, well I'll see you guys whenever. And, red?"
"Yeah?" Pete's voice broke on the ending constant.
His tone was suddenly solemn. "I miss you too, I miss all of you and I wish I was there. Thanks for the voicemails, I might try to leave you some."
The call was hung up. The silence was deafening, as they stared at Pete's phone until it turned to a black screen. It only reflected the popcorn ceiling of their apartment. In some ways, it was a relief to know he wanted to be here and in others a pull to Pete's heart that he wasn't. This could have been their everyday.
But it wasn't, and it never would be.
About 15 minutes later, the doorbell rang Pete almost prayed it was him but, it was just a CVS bag of what they asked for. One bag of gummies, chocolate pretzels, cigarettes, and a bag of the coffee that he used to brew before writing. Of course he'd pick that up, it was a writing session right? Pete noticed on the receipt, paid for with Michael's card, something else they asked for: more writing.
It was a complete song, and a that moment Pete was so glad CVS had insanely long receipts. It was a song about loss, comparing the death to crow that continued to follow the singer. The song went through the 5 stages as it continued, ending in accepting the crows presence.
It would take more time and thought then some lyric's on a CVS receipt, but Pete knew a hint when saw it. He picked up his guitar, and made a promise with it. This is honoring the death, because it did happen. It would only get easier to admit it, every time he played.
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stanleyymarshh · 1 year
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Baby's first rave by CH0MP_CH0MP
Summary:
Michael's managed to crush on the worst person imaginable. Its ok though he can just avoid him like the plauge right? ...Right???
michael (tall goth)/ mike makowski
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