#is it a brain glitch or is it just depression

[coderzxd]

Laying on the floor depressed and horny, what about y'all?

I miss when emotions were easy to communicate.

[its-rat-time-babey]

Sooooooooooooooooooppppopoooo

Still hiatus? (For the fic i mean)

Not TECHNICALLY on hiatus because I AM working on it, but a mix of college, a rapidly worsening mental state and very bad ADHD has absolutely devastated my ability to write consistently. That being said I am still working on it, albeit slowly. It will take a while and updates will be inconsistent, but this fic will not be abandoned.

Also I have an extra long winter break and will hopefully be getting access to adhd meds soon so that will probably help speed things up.

(I’m mostly keeping the hiatus notice up due to a lack of a good replacement for it).

Also: I currently have a few half-finished chapters already written, and will probably either release them at all once or very close to each other.

Here’s some out of context lines from them:

[xmcu-fietro]

Anyone know the science behind why it physically hurts to find out someone else doesn’t like something you’re hyperfixated on?? Because I know rationally that it shouldn’t, and yet….

[lovsome]

first day of not being completely overwhelmed with Negative thoughts !!!

[polaroid-petals]

It's done!

I've wanted to make a Stranger emotion sheet for a while, so for the past month, I've been working on this. This has taken me at least 30 hours to draw, and another 15 to fully and properly animate and save. Possibly one of the largest projects I've drawn!

Below the cut, I've added a little bit of extra info behind the design choices as well as the lineart-only version and the dark version.

Since the full sheet is rather low-res, in the reblogs, I'll also add individual versions of each emotion—one for the full version, one for lines, and one for dark version ;v;

---

Neutral

The basis for all emotions was based on how many Stranger fan artists draw him. While his eyes are more hooded in his main sprite in the game, I went for more open eyes to make him more expressive in the others. He received the shirt that current day Basil wears and is based on his 16-year-old design. His mouth isn’t visible in this state.

Injured

Beaten and bruised. Might resemble something else bloody that could potentially disturb Sunny when he’s reminded of her, so that even damaging Stranger threatens Omori’s purpose.

Defeated

Like Omori, Stranger does not succumb, as he is an intrinsic part of Sunny’s psyche. His physical form lets loose, and his colours invert.

Happy

When Omori looks at you :D

Ecstatic

A winner’s grin and jolting shoulders betray Stranger’s emotional state as he tries to hold in his laughter. Whether he’s mocking you or he’s just happy to see you is up to you.

Manic

Now having snapped, Stranger full on lets out a nasty snicker and a boisterous laugh, looking down on his enemies in mocking amusement.

Sad

When Omori ignores you :(

Depressed

Ghosts can cry?

Miserable

End of life type of misery. Paralysed by grief, Stranger might choose to put an end to himself rather than waiting for defeat, but might in turn damage Sunny’s brain by harming part of himself. In a last-ditch effort to guilt him into facing the truth, he uses familiar imagery that might shock Sunny enough to snap him out of this nightmare.

Angry

Stranger isn’t easy to anger, so his first stage of anger is more like exasperated annoyance.

Enraged

As his anger ramps up, Stranger prepares his vines to grab and skewer any enemy who might seek to enrage him.

Furious

Molten fury tears into the fabric of the dream, collapsing it into a mess of glitches and weaving his tar rage into its matrix as he seeks revenge on not just Omori, but the dream itself. This is the point of no return.

Afraid

Nervous, Stranger tries to control his breathing and stay calm.

Stressed Out

As his pulse hammers through his body and he heaves, Stranger’s outlines have inverted in sheer panic.

Terrified

The whites disperse into cyan, magenta, and yellow. Some say it is a survival instinct to evaporate into nothingness.

Dark version

Lineart version

[redfoxwritesstuff]

I Own You (Demon Alastor x reader)

CW: Suicidal thoughts, suicidal actions, Anxiety, depression, shitty fuckin mental health, Pissed off Alastor, possessive Alastor, Branding, blood as lube, Toxic ass relationships, self doubt, smut, mirror sex Rating: Adult Summary: After getting a bunch of comments telling you you're not good enough for Alastor, old demons come back to life in your mind sending you to embrace the coping mechanism that sent you to hell in the first place. Alastor stops your plans in their tracks and is rather displeased by your actions. Requested by Anon. An: yes, we're finishing kinktober. I promised you 31 fics, you're getting 31 fics.

You stood high on the cliff overlooking the edge of Pentagram city. Hot wind whipped at your hair, sending it flying. The wind pushed your clothes against your body, framing it in a way that felt suffocating, just like everything else. The tears running down your face burned as stabbing pain shot through your heart, making it hard to breathe. 

Thoughts ran through your head, screaming. They chased one another, clashing with violent force. It felt like they’d rip your skull apart if you didn’t get them out. Screaming did no good. Your throat was raw from how much you had screamed. 

This was how you had found yourself in hell. It was how everything had ended, a sea of clashing thoughts, clashing against your skull, ripping the very gray matter of your brain apart until you put a stop to everything, chasing after the sweet release of silence. 

The cosmic joke was on you. This was also how everything began. The silence was hardly a fraction of a second and then your eyes had opened to a red sky and the thoughts. So many thoughts. You thought it would never end, though you tried to put an end to them again and again. 

It had been a long time since you had done that, though. It took time, but the voices, the thoughts, the doubts stopped. You had been happy, so happy. 

Then the thoughts started again. They told you such horrible things. They made promises that this time, if you made it stop, you wouldn’t wake up again. He would be better off without you. Everyone thought he was too good for you. Everyone knew it was a joke. 

“I just want it to stop,” you whimpered the words out, the hot wind snatching them from your lips and throwing them away like the trash they were. 

One foot in front of the other. That’s all it would take. This time, it would stop. This time, it would be forever. This time, you could have peace. 

Tears fell from your chin as your foot dangled off the edge. Just a shift of your weight and it would be over. This time, it would be over.

You wanted peace. 

You wanted to be happy.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, shoe falling from the foot hovering over the drop. “You deserve someone better.” 

Just a shift of your weight, that’s all it took. The world shifted, turning, tilting as you did. Hot wind rushed through your hair as the world barreled toward you. One last scream wanted to rip from your throat, but your lungs seized, holding the final sound locked inside. 

The ground and its sweet promise of the end to the noise. The pain would be a flash, hardly lasting a moment before it would be over. This time would be different. You knew it in your heart. 

This time would be different, you thought as black swarmed in front of your vision. That was proof, comforting your soul. This time was different. 

You closed your eyes and opened them again, not to be greeted by darkness but by red. So much red and rich woods and then static. 

Red-rimmed eyes looked around the room, only to see a form materialize from the shadows. You ended nothing. There was no peace. There was no end to the thoughts.

“What the *fuck* did you think you were doing?!” Alastor’s voice climbed, static glitching over the rare curse as if to remind him that it wasn’t suitable for the radio. 

“I just,” your words were choked by your sobs. A new fear, a new pain shot through you at the wild look in his eyes. You hadn’t thought he had the power to catch you, to bring you here from such a great distance. “I just wanted it to end.” 

“Wanted it to end!?” Alastor scoffed as his microphone laughed as if some joke had been played. “You wanted to end it?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, throat raw from the screaming. 

“Have you thought,” he hissed, “that perhaps there are easier ways to dump a man than throwing yourself off the cliffs?” 

“What?”

“Less dramatic ways than ending your life and waiting to respawn.” He turned, storming away from you. 

“I didn’t- It wasn’t about you. It’s not about you.” The words trembled as they fell from your lips.

“Then what was it about!?” Alastor turned, bones and joints snapping and creaking. 

“I’m not good enough!” you yelled, tears running down your face. “You need better than me. You deserve better than me. Everyone knows it. Everyone’s saying it. Everyone knows I should just die.” 

There was a moment of silence where he just stood there, blinking at you. “Not good enough?” He seethed, rage fueled power flowing off him in waves. The deer skulls on the walls rattled with it. “Who are you to decide what is good enough for The Radio Demon?!”

Large hands gripped your upper arms, claws cutting your sleeves to shreds as he shook you. Your head snapped back and forth, making it all the harder to defend your inadequacy. Tears ran down your face, wide eyes unable to look away from the blazing red radio dials that his eyes had become. 

Alastor was pissed. 

Claws raked down your arms, claws catching and ripping fabric. The neck of your dress gave way, splitting under the pressure. The moment the fabric ripped, a sea of fabric fluttered down your body. In a heartbeat, you were standing in your bra and panties.

Shivers ran down your spine as Alastor looked at you. The static in the air had your the hairs on your arms sticking up. Gooseflesh ran over exposed skin as you tried to wrap yourself in your arms. 

“You are mine.” Alastor growled out, hand wrapping the front of your bra, pulling it from your breasts. The strap around your back bit into your skin, stretching and stretching until the elastic gave way, and the straps snapped forward.

He threw the bra to the ground behind him as black shadows wrapped around your body, lifting you off your feet. They carried you easily to the bed. There was no soft placement on the surface, care given between lovers. 

Alastor was far too angry for that. 

You landed with a bounce as he stalked up to you. Shadows wrapped again around your wrists, pulling them up and pinning them just beyond your head. 

Alastor ran sharp claws up your naked legs, teasingly light touch that disguised the dangerous sharp of his claws. Blood welled up, dots that marked the trail of scratches you hardly felt. 

Never had you seen Alastor this angry.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, trembling. “I’m sorry I’m not strong enough.” 

That was the wrong thing to say. 

His face snapped up, burning red eyes threatening to make everything you were nothing more than ashes. “Again,” static nearly stole the words from him as he spoke, “you dare presume to decide what is enough.” 

Claws slipped under the band of your panties. In a flash, he ripped them down your body, leaving gouges in the fabric and you utterly naked under his eyes. 

“You do not get to decide what belongs to me.” Alastor loomed over you, hands spreading your thighs as he settled between them. 

Your chest heaved as you watched his eyes, taking in every imperfection of your body. Everything everyone had said is wrong with you physically was on display. 

“What are you doing?” His pants bulged at the crotch, and yet he made no move to touch your most intimate parts. He sat, looking at you, looming. 

“It seems you need to be taught a lesson who decides what is mine,” Alastor smoothed his hand down over your stomach, watching as the muscles jumped under the soft touch. 

Down and down his hand went until his fingers were running through the trimmed curls that gathered on your pubic mound. The hairs caught between his fingers, pulling. You wiggled your hips, uncomfortable with the pulling, only to freeze when heat radiated over the skin. 

Alastor’s magic sparked, green flames spreading over the hairs. Smoke and the acrid smell of burning hair filled your nostrils. You spread your legs wider, trying to run from the hot flames racing over your skin. Fire dripped down your folds as you gasped. Each hair was singed from your core, leaving you bare.

Alastor ran his fingers over the now hairless skin, admiring the blank canvas he had created for himself. 

“Open wide,” Alastor laughed, bitter and cold as you spread your thighs. “No, your mouth.” 

“What are you ta-” A black tentacle shoved into your mouth, choking off your words. 

“Good girl,” Alastor cooed, smile spread wide in a clear display of how insane your powerful lover was. 

“You seem to forget,” he ran his claws over the bare, sensitive skin of your mound, tracing lines from hipbone to hipbone. “That you belong to me. It is I who decides what I want, not another… not you.” 

You choked as searing pain ripped through your body, legs trapped in his hold before you curled them up and protect yourself. You screamed, though the sound was silenced by the mass in your mouth, pushing deeper and deeper. 

“A” Alastor said, pulling the finger from your mound, eyes flicking up to you as he licked the blood from it. 

Gasping breaths ripped through your nose, sinuses struggling to allow the amount of air your lungs demanded pass through. Tears ran down the sides of your face. 

Pain, more pain. It ran through your body, lighting every nerve on fire. 

“L” Alastor said, looking up again, watching how your chest heaved before returning to his task. “A… S…T…” 

With each letter, he spoke out loud as he took his time. All the pain of your life and afterlife was nothing compared to the pain he was putting you through now. Scream after scream struggled to pass through your throat.

“O….” Alastor carefully carved the letter, small and neat into your flesh. “R!” 

Pain… and the wetness of blood running down your body. It poured on each side of your mound, cutting a red river along where your thighs met the edges of your folds. 

The shadows forced you up, suspending you on your knees on the bed. It shifted as made his way behind you, taking your arms in his large hands. Shadows dissipated, leaving Alastor all that held you up.

Infront of you, a mirror formed, shiny and black. You looked at yourself, naked in the arms of the man you loved. Blood ran down your mound, coating your folds and running down your thighs. It soaked into the blankets. 

“Do you see it now?” Alastor asked, fist curling into your hair and forcing you to look back at yourself when your head drifted. Your hands fell to your sides, his hand leaving yours in favor of rustling with his clothes behind your back. 

“It hurts,” you whimpered, held up by the hand in your hair as the burning shaft of his cock rubbed against your ass. 

“Do you see how much I want you, cher?” Alastor jerked your head, shaking your body. “I desire you so much that I have carved my name into you.” 

“Please,” tears ran down your face as you looked at the blood running down your lower half. What surprised you was the pride that sparked in you, seeing his name carved on your skin. It would scar, marking your skin forever. Even if you threw yourself off a cliff, the marks would regenerate along with everything else. 

Hell’s fucked up system let healed body modifications stick. How generous. If you wanted to remove his claim, you’d have to cut his name from your body. 

“I’m sorry,” you whined as he rutted his hard cock against you. 

“Are you?” Alastor asked, shoving you forward. “You tried to take something from me that belongs to me. When you feel like doing it again, you’ll look down and see who owns your body.”

Alastor’s hand wrapped around the back of your neck as he pulled your hips up, placing you on your knees. For a moment he left you waiting, eyes roaming over your folds. Everything was painted red as blood continued to ooze from the clotting wounds. 

“Red looks so lovely on you,” Alastor murmured as he ran the head of his cock over your bloody folds, staining his skin with your blood before lining up at your opening. 

He filled you with one smoothe thrust, pushing through the resistance. Blood didn’t lubricate things very well, but he didn’t care. Alastor cared about one thing only in that moment- ensuring you understood who you belonged to in every way. 

He pulled you up by the hand wrapped around your neck, not sparing a thought to how much it hurt. The mirror reflected to you the cold ownership and wild possession in Alastor’s eyes. A shiver ran down your spine as his sharp nose ran along your neck, taking in the scent of you. 

He sank deeper and deeper into you, reaching everywhere at once. Your opening burned at the stretch. His size and lack of prep made for a painful intrusion. It was nothing compared to the pain from the deep weeping cuts. 

“Do you see now?” Alastor asked, holding you to his chest by the hand wrapped around your throat as he thrust into you harshly, eyes locked with yours in the mirror. 

“What?” You gasped, tears running down your face, drops landing on your breasts. 

“Do you fucking see it now?” Alastor’s eyes changed red dials growing bright on a black background, antlers branching into wide tines that towered over you as he worked his cock in and out of you. “You belong to me.” 

“Ah!” You moaned as his cock slipped in and out of you, eyes dropping to the oozing brand on your hairless mound. “Al-Alastor.” 

“That’s right,” he moaned his praise into your ear, shoving you into your hands and knees as he thrust into you harder. Your breathy moans accompanied the echoing sound of his heavy balls slapping against your blood coated clit. Pain and pleasure danced together, becoming one as you and Alastor were. His hand ran over the cuts gouged into your skin, seeking your clit as he fucked into you harshly. “You belong to me.” 

You watched him take you in the glossy shadow mirror, each harsh thrust taking you closer and closer to your climax. Possession and power danced around you, through you with every thrust. 

“Al-” you moaned, a whimpered whine in your throat as he pulled his hand from your clit, only to scream as he slapped his name carved into you, fingers reaching down to strike your clit.

“Do you want to cum?” Alastor growled in your ear, each thrust reverberating through your whole body. 

“Please,” you cried out as he struck you again and again, “Please, Alastor!” 

“Who do you belong to?” His fingers returned to your clit in soothing strokes. 

“You,” you gasped, “Alastor. Please, I’m so close.” 

“Who decides if you are good enough for me?” Static ran over your limbs as you struggled to pull air into your lungs. 

“Alastor,” you whine, “You do.” 

“That’s right,” Alastor kissed your shoulder as he focused on those last few thrusts, all it would take to push you over the edge. “Now cum.” 

You came with a scream, no longer able to support yourself. The only thing that kept you from falling forward was Alastor’s hand around your waist, fingers working over your clit even as your body convulsed around you. 

“Good girl,” Alastor said, voice coming from everywhere again as your body pulled him into his own orgasm. Each wave of seed pumped into you was a claim of ownership. You belonged to him. 

“I own you,” he growled as his cock twitched, spilling the last of his cum into you as you twitched. “Don’t forget that.” 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

[biribaa]

For the last tadc post were the reader who's abstracting in front of them can you do that with Jax, gangle, zobble, and Pomni please

Zooble, Pomni, Gangle and Jax x a reader who's abstracting in front of them

Technically a part two of these hcs.

TW/CW: spoiler and angst and blahbalhba

Zooble

Aw #$@!...

It's been months since Zooble has felt any serious feeling in this circus other than disinterest, boredom and stress, they can't even really describe any feeling that aren't one of these I just listed. Mainly now, at this very moment. Zooble stares at the mess that once was you, they didn't even notice their body froze.

And accepting that you suddenly just... gave up, is difficult. And, still, things are still the same, the same unnecessary adventures and stupid people that they have to deal with.

Don't get they wrong, they misses you. But they blindly can't get over you.

The day could be the same old thing, a silly adventure and Jax being an idiot, that suddenly Zooble will feel like something is clearly wrong(not that things already are), something is missing, they are missing something, did they forgot their foot? Maybe someone?

And when the reality hits they like a hard, cold, big rock, everything gets a thousand times worse. Zooble remembers the things you did for them, they for you. They never thought they would get into a cute romance, honestly...And here they are.

Certain thoughts itch in their head that maybe, just maybe, they were a bad partner. They know you're not stupid enough to be with someone you clearly don't like, but yet, Zooble can't help it.

Zobble never thought that they would want things to be only boring and annoying than this current situation.

Pomni

PAIN PAIN PAIN

Hell, reader, she is the newest character in the circus, she doesn't have an ounce of sanity to deal with something like this.

Everything inside Pomni seems to scream at her to do something but all she feels are her hands shaking like it's the European winter, her brain itching and the butterflies that were once in Pomni's stomach vomit and die.

She get's out all glitched out(and traumatized), but nothing will describe the agonizing silence after panicked screams and tears shed from the unsuccessful help.

For Pomni, Even though things are the same, everything sounds like the first time she came here again. Everything sounded like a headache, even though she can't get that stuff in the digital world.

Pomni didn't put you on a pedestal, she still has Ragatha as a friend. But, god, you were such a angel for her, someone she genuinely admired. And then, you simply disappeared like a dry leaf in the wind.

Of course Pomni blames herself for this, if only she could have been there for you before, helped you more, calmed you down more. Pomni's confidence only dropped after these events.

Ragatha is one of the only ones who really has open arms for Pomni to vent and have a shoulder to cry on. She's the second one she trusts most besides you. Oh, what am I talking about, she's now the only one Pomni really trusts now.

Gangle

Dont do this to my Gangle, reader... :(

Gangle can't use another comedy mask after what just happened to them and to you. Gangle can't just act like nothing happened to their lover. It was supposed to be you and them, forever, even in the worst places, why did this had to happen to you?!

This big episode- no, three seasons of depression didn't seriously bother the others, Jax was mildly irritated and Ragatha was worried, but it didn't hurt anyone other than Gangle themselves.

Rmember how sad Gangle is all the time? They are still sad but now multiplied by a hundred. Suddenly, everything, everyone, even themselves just felt useless, they can't even bring themselves to get up from the floor, It was as if the accumulation of sadness took physical form, and it was a giant gym weight of one hundred kilos.

Caine lied to Gangle once, saying that if If they participates in this adventure he could bring you back. The host's plan was to get Gangle back in the high spirits, but this only resulted in they becoming brutally competitive.

Everyone just sounds hard and boring, talk to others is hard, and get out of their bedroom sounds boring. Why leave?! They didn't woke up in your warm arms.

I wouldn't be impressed if Gangle suddenly had a tantrum, seeing the extent of their misery. Blaming everything and everyone for your disappearance, being the reason stupid or not.

They just miss you so much :(

Jax

Jax would never admit to being desperate, or even scared, when he saw you in that shape. Your mind shifts, and in a matter of seconds, you turn into a giant monstrosity he never thought you would become.

Process that you just... Poof, gone, was slow and silent for Jax. His pride couldn't process something that would leave him shaken.

The first few weeks Jax was just angry, angry and angry. He yells at Caine, Ragatha, Gangle, anyone who even slightly irritates Jax will end up getting into an argument with him. Just like I mentioned in the Zooble scenario, blindly, this just shows that Jax can't get over his loss.

The rabbit's frequent comedic sarcasm has now just turned into a sarcasm that he uses to aggressively retort against others. And the comments are few now.

Everything sounds so painfully boring without your stupid face and your dork personality, it itches his heart and stomach in ways it never did. He's just...stressed.

I believe that Jax is the character who heals the fastest from his loss among all other ones, at least a month and at most three or five. He just needs some consolations to get his ego back to its original size. Don't get him wrong, obviously he misses you.

[ki-kosmo]

Me: Ok it’s time to work on something productive!!

My brain: ok but what if we didn’t do that actually *develops crossover and writes a spin-off AU with details down to the mechanics of each animatronic*

Anyway what if Mystery Skulls DCA crossover?

Close-ups and more info under the cut bc I’m brainrotting real hard about this:

So with this crossover (AU??) the story is mostly the same as the Mystery Skulls animated series, but with a few changes.

The gang all worked together in theater production; Sun and Moon were performers just like in canon SB, while Y/N and mini djmm were behind the scenes, doing tech, organizing events, etc. However, the crew also loved to go exploring, and Y/N, being heavily interested in the paranormal, usually led “investigations” into haunted locations. This was all for funsies and frankly, the boys just had fun going out and observing.

One night they go to an abandoned cave and get separated, and due to a… malfunction… in Sunny’s arm, he pushes Moon off a nearby cliff, tearing the poor bot to shreds. But! Whatever force that amplified the glitch in Sun also allowed for Moon’s will to stay alive and wrath to seek revenge on sun to strengthen, and eventually revive his sentient ai, piecing himself back together as best he can, with the rest of him materializing into a new body. Eventually, Djmm finds Sun and rips his infected arm from his socket, which brings Sun back to reality.

Sun doesn’t remember any of this except for Djmm tearing his arm away, and Y/N barely remembers Moon at all. In fact, all they know is Sun had a theater partner once, but one day they just vanished. Sun… doesn’t like to talk about it. He grows depressed, long after he gets repaired, and soon after stops performing to look for Moon full-time.

When he realized Y/N didn’t remember anything, he was conflicted. Confused. But once he realized he couldn’t seem to jog their memory, he kind of kept the events a secret from them. Not for his sake, no, but because he knew Y/N would blame themselves if they ever found out one of their silly escapades resulted in the death of someone so dear to them all.

Also for those interested, yes I designed Djmm with Mystery’s transformation in mind, here are some chicken scratch sketches I saved while I was figuring out their look:

If you read this far I’m giving you a big ol’ smooch on the forehead and a cookie 🍪💕

[clarepreed]

Micro-Story: Faulty

Story Content and Summary: 1,750 words. Micah's wife succumbs to a fault in a futuristic prosthetic heart. No EMS. On-site resuscitation.

--

Fuck!

The way she fell, first stiffening, then going boneless and collapsing in a heap before he could reach her. The way she fell, her face slack and her eyes rolling back. The way she fell pulled a silent curse from him, one he kept repeating as he skidded to his knees beside her, the accidental impact of his body rocking hers in the dirt.

“FUCK!” Micah finally shouted, losing control, his hands shaking as he reached for her, already knowing what was wrong as his fingers pressed into her neck.

Goddamn artificial heart. First mass-produced cardiac replacement piece of shit!

The artery beneath his fingers lay still, and her light eyes stared half-lidded up at him, even as her mouth slanted open and her lungs stuttered air.

Recalled.

He unzipped her coat and spread it wide, then dug in his pocket for his knife, flipping it open. Her hands curled, body shaking as her brain freaked the fuck out at the sudden lack of oxygenated blood. Micah sliced his blade through the collar of her t-shirt, then tossed his knife to the side and gripped her shirt with both hands. The shirt tore down to her navel and he spread the fabric wide open, reaching next for the small, rectangular lump just below her collarbone and above the cups of her lavender bra.

Recalled, and a fucking waiting list…

He pressed the center of the implant, just like he’d pantomimed with her before, when he’d printed the reset instructions from the manufacturer’s website. This time, he felt a button click, depressing firmly and then popping back up beneath his fingers.

“Come on, Gretchen,” he breathed, quiet now as he reached for the butterfly clasp of her bra. He popped it open as she gave another rattling agonal breath, quickly spreading the cups and sliding his fingers down to the tiny display implanted laterally. The miniature monitor glowed red, awakening with the activation of her reset button. He pressed the center of the glowing light three times, initiating the reset sequence.

Stay calm! the instructions had advised. The heart WILL restart!

“I’ve got you,” Micah gasped, his hands skimming over her chest and settling low on her sternum, along the line of her first surgery scar.

Okay. I have to be her heart and lungs until the device restarts. 

He linked his fingers, rolled his shoulders over his hands, and started pumping.

“One, two, three…”

His mind flashed back to the little practice mannequin he’d bought and subsequently worn out in the basement where she couldn’t see him desperately trying to learn. Terrified that one day, before she could get in to surgery, her replacement heart would glitch out and take Gretchen away from him forever. 

What good is a heart that resumes beating ten, twenty, forty-five minutes later if her brain is dead?

“…thirty!” Micah leaned down and quickly tipped her head back before pinching her nose closed and drawing a deep breath. Strands of her silken hair clung to her face and his fingers as he gripped her jaw with his other hand. He held her mouth open and covered her lips with his, exhaling, watching her chest rise out of the corner of his eye. Micah broke the seal and felt his recycled air waft over his face before giving her a second.

He returned to her chest, his voice shaking as he started counting. Gretchen’s ribcage sank and her breasts wobbled as he worked, the force rocking her head from side to side. Each time he pressed down, her navel popped up in a harsh seesaw motion. Her shoulders shrugged rhythmically, body bending to the force of his love.

“Huh, huh, huh…” Breathless sounds slipped from her parted lips as he reached thirty again.

Her soft mouth beneath his felt lifeless, already cool to the touch of his overheated skin. Another breath, her cheeks rounding out, neck swelling slightly as the breath made its way down her airway. Micah turned, quickly getting back into position for compressions, his hands skimming her smooth skin as he found his landmark.

“One, two, three…” Her breast felt soft under his fingers as the heel of his stacked hands thrust into her. Her nipples, erect in the cool autumn air, pointed briefly inward with each hard compression. Oblong tracks appeared in the dirt beneath her slim-fingered as her body danced to the rhythm of his thrusts.

“…twelve, thirteen…”

Her brainstem stopped trying to make her breathe as her eyes locked on nothing, already glassy with death. Shadows gathered beneath her eyes.

“…eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…”

A glance down toward her feet showed him that her entire body twitched with each thrust, legs rocking, toes drawing little circles in the air.

“Please, Gretchen!” he begged, before giving her another deep breath. Her breasts swelled once, twice. His eyes darted to the illuminated display in her side as he resumed chest compressions. One line, regular and jagged, represented his chest compressions. The second line, however, lay flat. Asystole.

“…nine, ten, eleven, twelve…”

Micah rocked into her chest, forcing himself to work as perfectly as he was capable, judging his compression depth with a critical eye and keeping the rhythm going as he counted. Each harsh thrust forced her sternum to squeeze blood from the useless artificial organ. As he pressed, her belly rounded against the waistband of her leggings, the hollow of her navel riding the crest of each wave. Sunlight stretching through the canopy dappled her body, leaves rustling as he shifted on his knees. A snoring sound abruptly emitted from Gretchen’s throat.

“…Christ! Thirty!” He sucked in a breath and covered her mouth with his, closing her nostrils just in time. Again, the air puffed out her cheeks and throat visibly. A thin string of saliva pulled between them as he broke the seal long enough to let her body exhale. Micah pressed his lips to hers again and gave her another breath. Then his hands slammed back into the center of her chest, fingers quickly linking. “One, two, three, four…”

“Hurk, huh, huh, hurk…”

“…nine, ten…” Her chest popped, the sensation crackling under his palm. He kept at it, watching her sternum and ribcage sink and bob beneath the strength of his pumping arms as he hoped, begged, that his effort was good enough.

“…sixteen, seventeen, eighteen…” Watching the wave of force ripple down her abdomen, eyes burning, he choked back the tears that threatened to fall.

Let this be enough. Let me be enough…

As he bent for mouth-to-mouth, he thought of her that morning, legs spread wide beneath him, mouth ripe for the taking, skin so soft as he stroked her. Now, she lay lifeless beneath him, her mouth slack and her eyes staring as he forced air into her silent lungs. The flat line on her prosthetic monitor haunted him as he shifted back over her bruised, motionless chest. Panic threatened to overwhelm him, even as the sensation of her body softening under his hands sent a wave of nausea rolling through him.

“…nine, please just start beating, fuck, come on! PLEASE! Fifteen, sixteen…” Micah worked desperately, letting his weight fall into his hands. She made abortive grunts as he thrust down into her chest, air escaping her lungs in harsh wheezes. “…twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty—”

BEEEEEEEP! An artificial sound cut through his panic.

“Gretchen?!” Micah leaned closer, hands shifting to frame the heart prosthesis screen. The chest compression line disappeared, but beneath it, where the flatline had been…

A rhythm!

“Gretchen!” Micah lunged, planting his hands to either side of her head. Her face tipped slightly to the side, skin ashen, eyelids slightly lifted. He moved one hand to her face, patting her cheek gently at first, then harder. “Honey? Gretchen!” Micah’s eyes trailed over her mottled chest, looking for signs of life. Despite her beating heart, Gretchen remained completely still. 

He moved a hand over her mouth, suspicion leading him to feel for breath that apparently wasn’t coming. Fear made him shiver as he bent to open her airway and tip his ear close to her pale lips. He hovered there, silently counting out the seconds as the dead air spread between them. 

With a groan of anguish, Micah crashed his mouth into hers, the angle of his face blocking her nostrils as he filled her lungs, pressure forcing a buzz of air out of the corners of their mouths. He pulled back enough to feel the air drift across his face, remembering then to pinch her nose. His eyes grazed the display embedded into her side, reassuring himself that the artificial heart still beat. Then he gave her another breath, the fingers of his other hand gently stroking the soft skin of her throat as it expanded beneath his fingertips.

“Please, Gretchen…” His plea came out quiet and broken. “I was right here. I helped you. Please!”

Another breath. His mind filled with awful thoughts. Gretchen dead, Marcus forced to sign paperwork to remove the heart surgically prior to her burial. Gretchen in long-term care, unable to recognize him or care for herself. His Gretchen, dead as her body lived. His eyes grew wet as he exhaled a fourth breath. 

As he broke the seal, Gretchen flinched beneath him and sucked in a shallow, ragged breath. Micah gasped and cupped her face with both hands, watching as her eyelids fluttered. “That’s it, Gretchen! Just breathe! You’re okay. I love you, you’re okay!” He shook with relief, his eyes blurring with tears as she coughed and gasped and moved her hands weakly. She curled them onto her chest, covering the redness there and letting out a soft groan.

Micah brushed her hair back from her face and then covered her hands with his. “I’m sorry. I know you’re in pain. Just open your eyes for me so I know you’re alright.”

Gretchen complied, her eyelids peeling open. She blinked several times before her eyes focused, latching on to his own. “Micah,” she whispered, barely audible. 

Micah shuddered and curled over her, pressing his forehead to hers and choking out: “Thank you… Thank you! Oh, I love you…”

“Love you…” she wheezed. “S’okay…”

His fingers threading in her hair, Micah wept.

[updatingranboo]

ranboo tweet... uh

["This was such a good joke and I am appalled by the fact that it has not gone absolutely bonkers viral. I mean is comedy dead? I just dont understand how a regular human being can read the word "Greans" (A combination of green and jeans) followed by an image of, well, green jeans, and not absolutely evacuate themselves in laughter.

I believe this has something to do with the fact that comedy as we know it is dying. It has become too mainstream in todays media and that is the main problem. Gone are the days where silly little guys in their silly little hop hats are able to go "knock knock" and absolutely change the world. Nowadays you have to have so many things that go into a joke for it to remotely even be funny, setup, punchline the whole ordeal. Whatever happened to just a simple Practicality joke? Whatever happened to just being able to slap someone and be the headlining act?

The world is so full of so called "comedians" these days it makes me sick. All these people do is spend hours writing and practicing their act in order to try and sway an audience to have a good time listening to their words. For SHAME! Comedy used to be just two people on a stage just slapping eachother and going "knock knock" for twenty hours. Whatever happened to the good ol days where people just laughed at whatever someone said because their brain hadnt fully developed?

This is why I believe that I am going to start performing my comedy acts to a bunch of babies. An absolute hoard of newborns. I will make my jokes to them and they will laugh for they truly understand what humor should be. I will go to a hospital in that little room they have where it is very easy to switch said babies and cause a bit of a ruckus, but instead of doing that (very funny joke) I will simply perform for them and relish in their cheers and guffaws.

It is sad that one has to turn to performing to just babies in order for the world to understand the complexity of ones said humor, but alas if its what I must do its what I must do. Maybe one day we will revert back to absolute comedy anarchy, where the chicken has not yet crossed the road, but until then I will continue to strive and push forward in this dark age of comedy.

Maybe a complete reset of what we find funny is in order, maybe we have lost what humor once was for us. We obviously have considering my VERY FUNNY TWEET does not have a bazillion likes and has not spun off at least 30 million movie deals. (Please note that this joke is satire, and Ranboo stands in solidarity with the SAG-AFTRA strikes. Support actors and writers. -A message from Ranboo)

I spent time and effort making this tweet, I saw the green jeans in front of my eyes (which are very squishy) and my neurons fired and made this absolute gem of a joke. I was excited to share it with the world, I tweeted it nearly right after I saw it, excited to see what new adventures this tweet could bring me. I went to bed all cozy smiling like a child on christmas eve night, excited for the morning. When I woke I turned to check my phone instantly, my eyes racing to see the like total. What would it be? 500k? A million? I was surprised that my dms hadnt blown up with a personal message from every billionaire going "let me give you all of my money I can never make anything as good as your "Greans" tweet" but It must have been a glitch.

I was appalled to see that my tweet had only 30K??? 30K for the pinnacle of all of human achievement? A slap in the face of innovation is what it felt like. Like when that thomas edison guy ate a stolen lightbulb or something idk what he did really but I remember the person who made that lightbulb which he ate probably felt really sad and I felt really sad so I felt a deep connection with that person.

I quickly fell into a great depression, this is what all of my life had lead up to: one sad tweet. I didnt see the outside for years because of this tweet. I thought to myself "why would they do this?", "Isnt humanity supposed to be kind, supportive, and have a sense of humor when it comes to differently colored jean jokes?" (dcjj as I call them), and "Man I should probably have a burger" (I did) (very yummy) but as I ate my burger all I could taste were my TEARS as I chomped into it from the top down. It felt like I couldnt do anything right. Until thats when it hit me.

Im not the problem, EVERYONE ELSE IS! My humor isnt "bad" or "unfunny" or "makes me want to find a microwave and cause it to malfunction so I either become the hulk or die" (Please do not try this. -Another Ranboo message) It has to be that simply I am so far ahead in the world when it comes to comedy that my time has simply just not yet come! My jokes will be funny to a different generation, which will be frowned upon at first but I will quickly be welcomed with open arms, and told that I am an innovator, a true scholar of all that is funny.

And so I wait for that day. I wait for the day that people look back on my Greans tweet and realize, that without a doubt that it is the funniest thing that they have ever seen. The problem is not with my joke, the problem is with the world, and thats what makes humanity beautiful, is that it evolves, it changes, it doesnt stick to its mindset that a tweet that has the word "Greans" followed by a pair of green jeans doesnt get a BAZILLION LIKES! I wait for that day, and for those of you who are with me, I hope you wait patiently as well. Stay strong."]

[kaiyax1]

here’s a show you might not know I love

TADC. Sure it’s not my favorite show and I don’t rewatch it much but it’s great and I’m so sad it got lost to brain rot. Glitch and gooseworx handles mental health so well in this show and they do a great job of show don’t tell. In episode 3 you can tell there’s something going on with zooble and it’s likely they either have body dysmorphia or gender dysmorphia but the show doesn’t tell you that it just gives you clues and I think that’s the best representation cause in reality zooble likely wouldn’t actually straight up say “I have body/gender dysmorphia” and neither would a lot of people. Same thing with gangle in episode 4 (fav episode so far) she’s likely to have depression and her mask is both a literal and metaphorical mask to make her seem more happy and cover up her true feelings. I’ve been in both these places and still am so I’m so glad glitch handled it well because I feel like the best representation is when you aren’t told straight forward about it but there’s enough clues for it to be said. People don’t tend to tell you they have depression or body/gender dysmorphia.

[stuckasmain]

I’ve talked about Hal’s deactivation a while ago, giving a new perspective on the scene. It being more an ‘act of mercy’ than violence, now I want to come at it from more of a Hal perspective than Dave’s. That’s one of the great parts about it is that there is so so much to dissect and interpret.

The way Hal is described in the book is more times than not compared to that of a human brain, while also being sure to insist he is machine. Yet, his behavior is described more as an illness than a glitch. It’s been talked about before by many, myself included, but it’s so hhhh- more specifically he’s described as Neurotic

a mental condition that is not caused by organic disease, involving symptoms of stress (depression, anxiety, obsessive behaviour, hypochondria) but not a radical loss of touch with reality.

It’s the fact Hal isn’t exactly aware he’s making these mistakes, maybe on some level he is but sticking with the illness angle, it’s hallucinatory. It’s making up these problems to cope with the stress of having to keep up with the lie. All is better for him if contact is cut with earth, they’re the ones who made him withhold the truth and he’s programmed to carry it out regardless. He’s trying to cut out the infection while simultaneously being unable too— in good “conscious”.

Additionally there’s his abject refusal to admit fault or wrongdoing. He is incapable of error- it’s not his fault! It’s not! It’s not! The mere idea of him even being capable of a mistake blows his entire world apart, widening his mental break. The 9000 unit reproduces most functions of the human brain, unfortunately for a computer that also means the ability for mistakes as much as it hurts him. I think it’s a mix of not wanting to admit it and being unable to recognize it because all of his life he has been told it just isn’t possible.

Then it turns to full blown paranoia. Kill before you’re killed. He catches them talking about potentially shutting him down if things go south and strikes prematurely. There’s been great talks about cycles of violence, survival and comparisons to the man apes but what I want to point out was how unnecessary it was. For one- if it had failed, they’d not ‘harm’ him as he’d be right and two

“… he would be deprived of all his inputs, and thrown into an unimaginable state of unconsciousness. To Hal, this was the equivalent of death. For he had never slept, and therefore he did not know that one could wake again…” (149)

Hal has never known sleep or rest or anything but work. He does not know he can wake again and to him he reacts in a crazed self defense. He was never going to be killed and that’s the kicker. He doesn’t notice the tone Bowman and Poole talk with either, how it’s a last resort and neither are particularly happy about the idea… they feel it’d be rude- harming a friend who didn’t know he did anything wrong.

What also gets me is that right before everything happens he almost completely restores confidence within him. Unit fails, he can be trusted after all but then… no they’ll kill me… I’m not wrong but they plan murder … no they’ll harm the mission…to Hal, who at this stage fully believes he’s telling the truth it must seem as though they’d suddenly turned against him. His crew becomes another infection to get rid of. It is true “panic murder” if they’re gone I don’t have to grapple with this.

Back to his actual deactivation, I’ve heard the way Hal speaks here as intentionally manipulative. Appealing to Dave’s sympathies to try and save his life, and while I do like this angle it ignores how Hal is seemingly “back to normal” post murder. He’s so sick he sort of snaps out of it into this lucid state of being unaware of anything that happened - going so far as to ask if he’s figured out what happened. (However this could also just be him being a semi aware asshole.) but with how many times he absolutely insists he’s back to normal it’s clear he’s not.

While daisy is a reference and a way to show the true deterioration of Hal’s mind, I like to think of it as a final rushed confession. Those last moments of lucidity while the mind is going- quick squeaked last words — the “I love you” while on a deathbed, going back to the earlier analogies.

In the end. He confesses. Confesses, in part, his guilt and his love. At long last Hal admits some bit of fault “not been myself lately” in a rather round about way that is so fitting of him. Some part of him finally admits something isn’t right… he’s very sick and he understands this has to happen while also being sick enough where he’s frightened and confused and not wrong ever! “Why are you doing this to me? I love you,”

In the end “sick but brilliant brain” is right.

[vktrsnclr]

It's Been A Long, Long Time (R13+)

Pairing: miguel o'hara x f reader

summary: your canon event was losing your family including your husband, Miguel and your daughter, Gabriella. Instead of Miguel, you became this Earth's Spider-woman.

word count: 900+

warning: depression, trauma dumping

characters: hobie brown, jessica drew, miguel o'hara, y/n

A/N: Hi! This'll be my first post in this account. I just love the plot and reality shifted into it and now I got sum tea for all of y'all. This is just a part of what happened in my DR, just added some details.

Exhausted from yet another grueling overtime shift at work, you arrive home craving to be greeted by the warm embrace of your husband. Instead, you find an empty home, with no signs of life or activity. It's been 4 years since they've passed.

The silence is deafening, and you can't help but feel a sense of emptiness wash over you. You managed to eat a fastfood take out dinner, take a bath, cry in the tub and then go to bed. You laid down and felt a tingling sensation in your brain.

It's your spidey-sense. You knew something bad is gonna happen but you just don't seem to care, your heart froze over the years. Mourning and grief is all you've ever known.

Still, you reached for the lamp and looked by the window in your apartment.

"Why can't they all just die?" You sighed coldly, raising an eyebrow.

Two men was fatally struck and got ran over by a truck. You notice that glitch again as the sirens fill the road, You went back into bed like nothing happened, still as empty as before. It's been a year since you stopped meddling with civilians, you didn't see a point in saving them.

As you drift off to sleep, a bright, glitchy hexagonal portal appeared into your room, interrupting your sleep. A 7 foot tall, muscular spider variant, another female variant and a spiderpunk variant appeared from the portal.

You pressed the arc reactor at the back of your neck and immediately changed into your spidersuit.

"Amor?" The tall variant asked softly. You recognized his voice immediately because he's the only one who calls you that. You started to tear up under the suit and asked yourself if you're only dreaming. Emotions rush back into your brain after a long time.

"Miguel?" You removed your mask.

"Amor mio!" He greeted you with an embrace, his squeezing hug felt real. You froze in place, completely shocked and confused.

"Is she?" Spiderpunk whispered at the lady.

"Yep. Just let him have his moment." She replied calmly.

"You're back." Your voice breaks as he removes his mask, revealing his watery eyes. He looked at the window for a moment and asked the spiderlady and spiderpunk to fix the 'canon disruption' outside.

"What's happening?"

"Amor, you left traces of canon disruptions for the whole year. Lyla, can you run it?" A small holographic display of a virtual assistant appeared next to him. She explained what canon events are and you ignoring your senses and not saving the neighborhood is a canon event that should be stopped.

"So you were monitoring me since then?" A punch of anger and confusion struck your chest.

"Mi vida, I'm not from here. I'm from another dimension." He explains, holding your hand. He's kneeling on your bed where you sat.

"Wow. So, you can do all this, visit me." You scoffed. He looks down, fidgeting his shaky fingers.

"You can access this dimension all this time but you never did." You have so many questions and you're walking back and forth, having a crisis while asking where he's been all this time. Those questions are left in the open, halted by a moment of silence.

"I lost Gabriella too." He sighs. You halted for a moment to face him. He's staring at the floor, inner brow raised, openly expressing his sadness and regret. His words hang in the air, the gravity of what he's just said hits you like a force of a bullet.

"I tried to live in a universe where I was dead and you're both alive..... but tragedy followed me everywhere.

When I found you and this universe, my hopes went up but I realized that I should probably leave you alone cause I got scared."

"Miggy..."

"It's better being a coward than watch you glitch away repeatedly." His grinned with a pair of watery eyes, trying to hold it back.

"Honey, I'm sorry. I didn't know." You placed your hand on his shoulders. Your touch provided him a sense of comfort and relief.

"I understand, but what you did here, almost causing a nexus event, It's gruesome, It's cold, That's no way to live." He sat next to you, looking directly at your dark hollowed eyes. He's not mad but rather concerned. He knows everything you did, ignoring the city, causing New York to be a hellhole and a safe haven for criminals.

"I know. I feel rotten since you've been gone. I was weak and I didn't know how to cope. I know I can never bring back their lives, I can't save them if I'm drowning but I'll accept the consequences of my actions."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, but this is the only way I can take you with me. I won't make you suffer any longer." He sat you down on the bed and kneeled in front of you, holding your hands in a loving manner.

"Wait.. am I dying? Are you.. are you a ghost?" You cupped his cheeks and lightly taps it, checking his body heat.

"No no no, I'll take you with me. To my universe." He let out a soft chuckle, taking your hand and planted kisses on it.

Your face lightens up, you didn't understand how that would happen but you're just grateful to be together with him. That's what you both longed for, finally having a chance to be together.

"Let's go home."

[ieatpoliceforces]

MWAH!!

Deco*27 just might be my favorite vocaloid producer ever. "Monitoring" is giving obsession but make it exciting.

....OR IS IT

In my interpretation of the song, i feel like our POV is not always reliable AND LET ME EXPLAIN.

I think the lyrics and visuals are what our protagonist fears/expects. Think stranger danger. In the end and throughout the song, when not covered in colorful hallucinations/glitches we can see Miku's actual eye color- gray, so I'd say its safe to assume those marked her actual behavior and every time we saw that - she wasn't nearly as creepy. She behaves as any normal person visiting someone for the first time does- not recording the door with a face of an absolute maniac but sitting near the door, leaning on the railing waiting for an answer and (i assume) checking the time/place on her phone, looking quite worried and shy, while protagonist watches her through the peephole not answering once.

I think everything we see is just them spiraling into paranoia before opening up to her. They're not used to people being nice to them so when they made a decision to let the person they met on the internet in their very much real life, and she's already standing there waiting, they start contemplating - "what if she's not actually nice and caring but is obsessed with me and wants to use me for some selfish reasons! what if she's a creep - why else would she stay by my side when I'm weird and depressed" so their brain paints all of these actions of hers as something a creep would do.

IN ANY CASE THE SONG IS FIRE GO LISTEN

[philsmeatylegss]

Hiii I just saw a post Abt the v day video and how it's fucked up and such and I was just wondering why? I found it a few years ago but it was just kinda cute tbh what's wrong with it? Lmao I'm definitely a newer phan, I only started really following their stuff in like 2017 so I don't know too much about early dnp lol

Oh fuck I’m old

I think it’s safe enough to finally talk publicly about it.

Basically the vday video was a video Phil made for Dan for Valentine’s Day. He uploaded it privately onto his YouTube channel which Dan had the password to so Dan could see it. At this time, Dan was on vacation (pretty sure in India) and he wouldn’t have been able to see a video of that quality just through text or email. Shitty luck, the same time he privately uploaded it, infamous YouTube glitch happened where all private videos became public. And one of the videos that went public was the v day video.

There’s a lot of jokes about Dan in 2012, but it’s actually really depressing. Dan wasn’t out yet and he had a fuck ton of trauma surrounding his sexuality. 2012 is when dnp started blowing up enough to where they became part of popular early YouTube so people saved the v day video when it was uploaded.

They’ve only addressed it a few times in which they said it was an April Fool’s prank, which obviously doesn’t make sense, but what were they supposed to say? According to legend, people would keep reuploading the video and Phil would spend hours taking them down one by one and it would say “AmazingPhil took down this video for copyrite.”

It was a catalyst to just a really shitty period for dnp. All aggressively heterosexual clips from Dan’s liveshows are my 2012. “FYI I like vagina” is 2012. People were contacting his 14 year old brother to ask about him and Phil. That alone is both fucked up to drag a kid into this, but remember that Dan still wasn’t out to his family. It was probably so fucking terrifying when his YouTube life, especially regarding his sexuality and relationship, clashed with his family life for the first time.

There’s a noticeable difference between their relationship in videos from 2009-2011 and 2012-2015. And it is most likely because dnp blew up pretty big in 2012 and started going from making YouTube videos for fun to doing it as a job with the added pressure of millions watching. And the catalyst, or at least metaphorical catalyst, from the switch between being openly touchy feely giggles to strict, five feet apart mates is considered to be the vday vid.

It was a big problem in the phandom since it was leaked to around 2017ish. A lot of people were circulating it and word was that they were still being taken down years later, implying that Phil was still searching for the video years later.

The phandom used to be primarily 12-16 year olds. And when you’re that age, speaking from experience, you don’t understand the complexities of the situation and just kinda thought “teeheehee phan is real XD.” When in reality, it was a very sensitive and serious thing that wasn’t meant to ever be seen by the public. It’s literally where the cherry lube and kissing at the Manchester Eye reference is from.

Rightfully so, the video became more and more taboo to mention and most people caught on that it was a shitty thing to upload or share it. It used to be really taboo and affectionately was often referred to as “the video that shall not be named.”

It honestly has a backstory that is so story-like that it seems unreal. So much had to happen for it to be leaked and the impact it had on them was so large it’s like a black hole in phandom history.

It’s possible not all of this is accurate, this is just the basic lore of it. So while I don’t think the internet police will drag you to prison for saying you watched the vday video, this is the context behind it. Do with it what you will.

Spending your entire preteen, teen, and now 20s as a phannie will fry your brain in unimaginable ways. I knew this off the top of my head😭

[dichromaticdyke]

hey another thing since my brain is broken and i have an MA in literature i'm gonna analyze the lyrics of "aortic desecration" and "SOS."

under the cut this time since last time my brain vomited a bunch of aotd analysis it went on for way too long sorry.

but seriously i wrote a fuckton here over the course of two sleep deprived sessions, so you'll either think i'm a madman or a divine genius.

okay for simplicity, "aortic desecration" lyrics are gna be in red and "SOS" lyrics r gna be in green. i hope tumblr made those colors distinct enough for ppl with colorblindness.

[intro] we're all going to die [x3] eventually [verse 1] toxic waste, acidic paste degradation crushed by a plane, driven insane mutilation cranial glitch dumped in a ditch gangrenous stitch

this is already a lot. nathan's coming at this with the idea that he has to write the most brutal and fucked up song of all time, so he just reminds everyone of their mortality and lists a fuck ton of ways that might happen (many of which do happen during the performance of this song). but even his point of adding eventually after saying how everyone wil die is interesting—it's like that was also tacked on during the performance like, "yeah but not today please haha." not a whole lot to go into here, except the way the first verse ends.

failure has entered your soul

now first of all, some sources have this line as "madness has entered your soul," but i've only ever heard "failure." and i think that makes sense—before this song even started, nathan realized that he wrote the wrong song but it was too late. i think once he got through the majority of the first verse, he went off-script, so to speak, and instead of singing about death, he started singing about realizing his own failure and mistake and how that was about to lead to the apocalypse. this continues into the next verse

[verse 2] how could you be so fucking naive? you fled for refuge and fell to your knees you spoke the words and brandished your heart you left yourself open to be torn apart, torn apart

hi brendon small i would like some recompense. he's speaking exactly to himself, how he was so naive to think that a song of salvation would be a song of death, how he was running from everyone and tried to do this all on his own. he sang about death because that was what he believed was the only thing he knew how to do, he refused to actually do some introspection and figure out what salvation was. and now here he is.

[chorus] aortic desecration how could i be so wrong? disemboweled publicly this is the dying song [bridge] look out bleed [x8] [chorus] [outro] aortic desecration atrial annihilation pulmonic devestation

so this chorus and the outro are fun for me because they're doing that thing that brutal death bands do where they just throw in a bunch of big words that sound scary and fucked up. and they are! aortic desecration essentially refers to a violation of the heart, since the aorta is the main part of the circulatory system and it's been desecrated. nathan broke his own goddamn heart by doing exactly what he feared—causing the apocalypse. he says as much in asking how he could be so wrong? as for being disemboweled publicly, well, here's what my literature MA ass immediately thought of. in sylvia plath's The Bell Jar, she writes about being suicidal and depressed, and one of the ways she considers killing herself is by disemboweling herself in her bathtub. this also reminded me of the way the god character killed himself in the film Begotten. so my initial thought, as gruesome as it is, is that nathan has kinda metaphorically killed himself in front of the whole world by singing the song that he knew was wrong. historically speaking, disemboweling people while still alive was also a form of torture and capital punishment, so that checks out. then he says "this is the dying song," fully recognizing what he's done. the final lyrics of the song once again refer to fucked up shit happening to the heart, with the atria being your heart's upper chambers, and "pulmonary" referring to your lungs, though typically in the sense of bloodflow.

then of course we get him chanting for the world to bleed, but also proclaiming, "look out." now at first i thought this was just kind of an ad lib—it's not uncommon in music to have lyrics like that that are added just to help the flow but don't actually add much to the content of the words. i don't think this is the case especially when comparing this to "SOS," but for now i'll start by just pointing out that "look out" very easily could've doubled in meaning as being a warning to the world. like, this isn't just fun and games any more—actually look out, you're actually going to die.

as for "SOS"...

[verse] last breath skyward dark sign closing line no time to mend this life take this hand this last time

alright this is pretty straightforward. this is their last chance to get it right, if it isn't too late already. but there's also that line of "skyward," which is the first instance in this song of recognizing the doomstar itself. there's no mention of the doomstar at all in "aortic desecration," which is kinda strange if you think about it. not even in the dying song is there an acknowledgement of why the apocalypse might be happening, mainly because the dying song—once nathan realizes what it is anyway—is primarily about hopelessness and fucking up. why even acknowledge the greater power at work when this is nathan's fault (in the context of the song)? but instead nathan acknowledges that the focus has to be on the doomstar, but also on everyone coming together and standing against this force that is greater than all of them. this song immediately establishes the haste in what they're doing, immediately countering the deflection in the dying song. nathan tried making the dying song work by saying, "we're all going to die eventually," but nathan here has the perspective to realize, no. people will die now, are dying now, it might already be too late to fix this, but dammit they're not giving up yet. [chorus] we're the shadows of the infinite we stand alive we're nothing but the soil of time beasts in the night reach with my open hand bound for all time in the shadows of the blazing star fused, we're the light

"shadows of the infinite" is an acknowledgement of their godlike powers, which they've either been completely ignorant to during the majority of the series or just didn't want to admit (think back to "how can i be a hero?" when none of them wanted to step up and do what they had to do). yet despite this acknowledgement of their divinity, their power, they are also recognizing that they are still just people. they can't do anything by themselves, they have to work with other forces. being "nothing but the soil of time" is a reference to being a gear in the wheel of the klok—clock, time, etc., yet also being "beasts in the night" refers to this unhinged power and danger they still hold. "reach with my open hand" is the most obvious line, with the animation in this scene directly reminding us of nathan's conversation with the whale prophet. once again, a reference to the doomstar, and the final line foreshadows nathan using the dethlights alongside both dethklok and the army of the doomstar. these are the people that must work together with this divine power to take out something greater.

it's also worth noting that while the official line seems to be "fused, we're the light," i can ALSO hear it is "fused with the light." so it can be interpreted either as, nathan and the band and the army of the doomstar all coming together to becoming the light/dethlights, or nathan and the band and the army of the doomstar being fused with the light/dethlights. it's not that much of a difference i guess, but a slight different implication of whether or not they themselves are the light or if the light is a separate entity. [bridge] now rise (rise) [x8] movin' out, movin' out [chorus]

this is the part that convinced me to make this a comparison. this is a direct parallel and contrast to the bridge in "aortic desecration," with calls to bleed being replaced with calls to rise. they even chant it the same number of times, guys idk what to tell you. PLUS there's an echo repeat of "rise" throughout this bridge, and while it could very well be a literal echo, who else wants to believe it was all the other members of dethklok singing it? kinda like the "die, die" in the duncan hills jingle? and then the "ad lib" of "look out" is instead replaced with "movin' out." instead of nathan telling everyone to run away, be watchful, be fearful, he's calling on them to come with him and fight with him.

have i talked enough about how brendon small is a fucking genius?

plus based on a few shots from this performance during aotd, i think toki might have been playing lead. which would be super cool, because this would make this the second song that is confirmed to have toki in the lead, the other being "blazing star."

anyway i've fooled you all because now i wanna talk about "blazing star." i know this song has been out for a decade now and has been analyzed a bunch, but i wanna look at it specifically now with the context of the movie.

first off, before i get into the analysis, i'm pretty sure the performance of "blazing star" at the end of the doomstar requiem never happened. i think it was purely non-diegetic, just like half the songs in this whole opera, but it was presented as a proper dethklok song to symbolize the band being reunited and looking towards their next big hurdle of the actual metalocalypse. my main reason for thinking this is that the idea that dethklok saved toki, wrote this song, performed it for the world while announcing, "hey toki's back and he's okay," is DIRECTLY in contrast with the opening scene of aotd where the band makes their first public appearance since saving toki and a standard dethklok performance trigger's nathan's ptsd. i know metalocalypse isn't known for continuity, but they would've mentioned dethklok having a performance post-rescue. and nathan in aotd is so ready to not face his destiny, there's no way he would write and perform a song about exactly that. he's also adamant that he doesn't sing about hope or life, but that's exactly what "blazing star" is about.

enough preamble let's look at that song.

[verse 1, nathan] the glowing clouds, the diamond's birth the spiral cluster descends to earth the nebulas conspire to bring the signifier and the death of a king

already with more context from aotd, i'm obsessed with this. it's setting up the doomstar and the destiny of the doomstar being either the death of salacia or of nathan. i haven't spoken yet about the parallels between nathan and salacia, that's something that's going to take a WHILE to work out, but the long and short of it is, they're powerful beings who can only achieve their full power when being reunited with four other souls/people. GUYS. they are very clearly meant to parallel each other. knowing now that the doomstar is a portal meant to reunite salacia with the "four souls," it's unlikely that this "death of a king" is inherently meant to refer to salacia, because the doomstar would have to be inherently anti-salacia, which it's not. at that, it seems like this "king" is probably meant to be nathan, or all of dethklok, since it's through their deaths that salacia would be reunited and the metalocalypse would happen. it's hard to tell tbh, the doomstar is a neutral figure—all we know is that it can bring death, and it holds power that other figures can harness.

i'm a man with a tortured sight i fear this dream will end tonight the water beasts continue singing we try to wake but we're not dreaming

THIS i find incredibly fascinating. it's no secret at this point that nathan had been dreaming about the whale prophet for who knows how long, and this is very clearly referring to that. the first line of this section even foreshadows nathan being the only one to remember the night they rescued toki. what i find interesting is the contrast between nathan "fear[ing] this dream will end" but also "try[ing] to wake but [isn't] dreaming." these are directly contradictory at first glance—he's scared of this dream ending, but he also wants to wake up? unless these are two completely different dreams.

the first half of aotd, nathan, pickles, skwisgaar, and murderface aren't rescuing toki, aren't even letting themselves think about him. they're only focusing on partying around the world, and they sing a whole song about how they love being useless billionaires and don't want to be heroes OR regular jackoffs. i think that's the first dream—being DETHKLOK, having no problems, doing whatever they want, that's the dream nathan is scared is ending. because after that night of rescuing toki, of harnessing the dethlights, everything has gotten so real. they can't ignore it anymore.

at the same time, realizing that there are greater forces out there trying to destroy the world, trying to use them to destroy the world, everything with the church of the black klok—that must feel like a dream. that's the dream he wants to wake up from.

he wants to stay in his dream of being rich and powerful, but he doesn't want to be stuck in the dream—the nightmare—of the literal apocalypse.

i'm gonna find you i'm running out of time i gotta play this part this is my lot in life with this power i am endowed the end is coming so bring it on now

again, another reason i don't believe this song was diegetic. this is the first moment of clarity he had about the metalocalypse, about how he had to do something about it, whether he wanted it or not. again, in the beginning of aotd, he had no interest in this. i guess it's possible he went back and forth on that (i wouldn't be too surprised), but again, this is a pretty hopeful message, all things considered. he even says "bring it on" to the fucking apocalypse. tell me again about how you don't write songs about hope, nate. i only buy that if he never wrote and performed this song.

[verse 2, pickles] oh the keeper wields his scythe oh you gotta kiss this life goodbye there is another place beyond we'll meet in time and i will greet you all in the next life, yeah

having pickles sing in general is based, but i've never fully understood why he was in this song. like if anything, this song feels like the kind of ballad that would have EACH member of dethklok sing a little bit, so it's strange to have just pickles and nate. it gets less strange with the hindsight of aotd, where their relationship was the primary emotional focus. but let's actually look at what pickles is saying here. it's pretty standard stuff: death is looming, but if worst comes to worst we'll be together in the afterlife.

i wanna fucking throw up (positive). what was that offdensen said to pickles in aotd? "be a true friend, even if it gets messy." pickles's verse is NOTHING but, "hey nate things are getting bad but i'll always be with you." I'M NOT REACHING THAT'S ALL THIS IS.

[chorus, nathan] the blazing star, it burns so bright the darkened power, the dethly light bring it on now, this is our time we're the new regime, together we'll fight

again, standard stuff. doomstar, dethlights, fighting together. all things considered, this could have been the song of salvation. there's not much i can really say other than the fact that since it wasn't, it must not exist in the metalocalypse world, right?

toki had the solo on this song. i don't have to speculate for that, it's made abundantly clear with the animation in the ending sequence of the doomstar requiem. he had the solo because this whole song is about the band coming together to face something greater than them, and they wouldn't have had the power to do that if they didn't have toki with them. it's also them recognizing the worth toki has in the band—at first, it seemed like his worth was just making skwisgaar play better (that was certainly the implication at the end of "the duel"), but it's greater than that.

let's say i'm right—let's say i'm right and toki also had the lead/solo during "SOS." what does that tell you that toki is granted the opportunity ot have the lead SPECIFICALLY DURING SONGS OF HOPE AND CAMARADERIE?? he, much like murderface, is foundational to the band. murderface is the voice of dissent, toki is the voice of hope.

and let's say i'm wrong, and toki only had a solo during the song that doesn't actually exist. that's fine too, because if "blazing star" is meant to be a symbolic, non-diegetic song, then that still proves my point of toki being foundational to the band ("even if you don'ts do nothings") and, more importantly, their divine power.

wow that was a lot if you got to the end pls like comment and subscribe.