Ourple Jack ♡

yes

Its something he does unconsciously (but had previously made an effort to avoid pre-lobotomy), and he barely notices when he does it half the time and doesn't gaf (not really caring/thinking about how he physically appears in general post-lobotomy (for the most part)). It gets worse when he is emotional (either positively or negatively)

Haruno Sora - CRUMBLING DREAMS (ACAPELLA)

Haruno Sora - CRUMBLING DREAMS (ACAPELLA)

Heavily inspired by Doki Doki Literature Club! Specifically, the ending of Act 1.

Mara and Eris were the bestest of friends. They had been, for as long as they could remember. They were what people would call “attached at the hip” or “two peas in a pod”.

Whatever the title, the two went along with it. Mara Eudoria and Eris Rosalind. Nothing could sever the threads of their bond.

Perhaps that's why December 14th, 202X held such a bitter taste in Mara's mouth. That day proved that no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, no one is immune to the blades of fate.

It was supposed to be a regular school day. Mara and Eris had a school festival to go to, and it was supposed to go perfectly. It was their first official date, after all. Mara had hoped that it would snap Eris out of his depressed stupor that he had been experiencing.

Looking back, that thought was naive. But how could she have known?

That hope was quickly put to sleep when she opened the door to Eris’ room, and was greeted by a corpse hanging from the ceiling. No, that couldn't be him. He wouldn't do this.

Mara had cut down Eris’ body. She tried CPR. She wailed until her throat hurt. Nothing would change that her Eris was reduced to a pale, lifeless, and bloody cadaver.

The days after that were a blur. Talking to the police. Giving a tear-ridden speech at a funeral. Gazing at the body in the casket, knowing that she'd never be given the privilege of running a gentle hand through Eris’ sun-kissed hair once it was lowered.

It was a miracle that Mara didn't crawl into the casket with Eris.

Back to the present day, Mara spent most of her days isolated. She couldn't stomach food. She didn't have the energy to do what she used to live. On top of all of that, her mind felt like it was clouded in a vantablack fog.

It was cruelly ironic. Depression had drowned Eris with its icy, wretched, and twisted claws, and Mara was its next target. It was an illness that had no cure, dooming anyone who contracted it.

She understood how Eris felt. Far, far too late.

The only memento she had of Eris was a music box. It sang a familiar melody, one that Eris hummed often. Mara had never asked where it came from, assuming he had made it up, but it had become a comforting sound for her to hear.

Mara, knelt down by her bed, reached over and winded the key to the music box. Once its soothing melody started dancing in her ears, she let out a soft exhale. She turned to look out her bedroom window, admiring the late night stars.

Eris would have loved it. Before she could process it, her eyes had welled up. The stars were breathtakingly beautiful, and Mara was the only one who could see it. The realization felt like a heavy weight slowly crushing her heart.

She was pulled out of her sorrows when she heard a sound that she was not making: humming. It was a male humming, specifically. Eris?

Mara turned around just in time to see a shadowy figure leaving her doorway. Without a second thought (and having nothing to lose), she quickly stood up and followed it. The next sight she caught was the figure leaving through the backdoor of her house. She didn't hesitate to follow it out there.

The figure led Mara to the forest that she and Eris had loved to explore. This time, Mara found herself taking a new path through the thickets. She didn't care that she was merely in her pajamas. In fact, she wasn't affected by that fact at all.

Finally, after what felt like hours of walking, the two had reached their destination. A clearing in the forest, with a vast meadow of the most stunning and vibrant flowers. Fireflies danced across the sky, and the starry sky was in full view, giving the scene a serene lighting in the night.

Standing in the middle was the figure that led Mara to this sensational view. It turned around after a few moments, showing the face of Eris. It smiled at Mara, before its figure faded away to join the fireflies.

Mara could do nothing but stand there, staring at the sight before her. The colors and lights harmoniously blended together to create the perfect view. Whether this was a hallucination, or Eris truly giving her one final gift before he departed, she didn't know (but she liked to think it was the latter).

She walked to where the figure once stood, her gait relaxed and calculated. As she walked, she ran a reverent hand across the flowers, watching as the fireflies on them flew away almost rhythmically. And after a few moments, she reached the middle.

There was nothing but the sound of the wind and the rustling plants. Mara let out a soft breath she didn't know she was holding. She felt… free. The guilt that had weighed her down was temporarily lifted. Mara could almost feel a warm presence near her.

I wrote this while listening to Human by FLAVOR FOLEY on loop.

It has been five years since the end of the world.

Nobody ever figured out how it happened. One minute, everything was as normal, and the next, half the population suddenly died.

The rest lasted for about eight months, but simply couldn’t continue on.

I myself am the last blasted memory of this emptiness. Not even the other ghosts chose to remain.

I stay in this apartment that was once a mere fragment of bustling city, or I roam the gray seashore nearby, or I wander for what seems like ages, never quite getting out of my comfort zone. Old habits don’t die, it seems. My apartment is the most comfortable place to me.

Even as a ghost, I do the same things I did when I was alive. Probably the most sad part, honestly. Doomscrolling the remnants of the age of man, listening to every vocal synth song that I can. Even the darkest stories told by GHOST or Kikuo seem brighter than the bleakness that is my final reality.

…God, we were pathetic creatures. The birds are better left to inherit this blue orb of nitrogen.

Truly, the only thing seeming to keep me tethered to it are the leftover tales on my flat metal rectangle, the stars that are still in the sky, and the fleeting idea that somebody has to stay behind, no matter their state of being.

I just can’t bring myself to leave, the way I couldn’t bring myself to be productive when I had “important” things to do.

When I do go out to the seashore, I stay for days at a time. Chasing the retreating waves, laying motionless on the packed sand thinking of nothing, watching the sandpipers grow up. It’s something, at least.

Travelling the city is more depressing. Seeing perishables in stores long gone stale and rotten, empty schools still bringing tears to my eyes, the hollow decomposing shells of those who once had hope.

It makes me feel sick sometimes. Or, as sick as a ghost can be, anyway.

I stop reminiscing.

There’s a notification on my screen.

Where did it come from?

…

It’s a new follower on Tumblr. I mostly use the place as a diary now, or reblog things I want to save forever.

I’m sure the follower is just AI, until I get a message. Or six.

“hey”

“i’m sorry but I can’t believe there’s literally anybody still here” “or anywhere”

“forgive me for rambling, again, i’m sorry”

“then again there’s no conventions or anything to worry about anymore are there?”

“what’s your name? or, a better question, do you even remember?”

I can barely believe my eyes.

I’m lucky that I have a few skills of social interaction left.

“My name is Edward. Might I ask the same of you?”

…I used to be a walking dictionary and thesaurus. It annoyed everyone, really, until there was nobody left to annoy.

“oh you’re sophisticated! my name’s dorian, sorry for sounding like a flibbertigibbet”

“You’re perfectly fine, don’t worry about it. I don’t really think I could blame you for anything even if it were a real problem. We’re long past the end of the world.”

“true enough!”

“…May I ask how you’ve survived this long? Not even the other ghosts stayed behind for more than the first year.”

“…one, that’s awfully poetic, i like you, two, pure anxiety, three… you’re a ghost??”

…Fuck.

“Yes. Believe that I’m lying if you like, but that changes nothing.”

“if anything, i’d want to see for myself at least. not like there’s anything else for me to do but meet you, right? what town or city you in?”

“…I don’t suppose that I can distrust you. I’ve been residing in Manhattan and wandering around it for the last five years.”

“NO SHIT?? i’ve been in maryland, i’ll be there in like a week tops”

This close the whole time?

“You drive?”

“i mean yeah how else would i get around”

“Fair point. No need to answer, but may I know your age?”

“uhhhh i don’t celebrate birthdays or anything but i think i’m nineteen”

“I was twenty when everything started, so twenty I’ve stayed.”

“stagnation must be nice on occasion”

“Sometimes. Watching the world fall to pieces is still hard, though.”

“i can agree with that. not a day goes by that i don’t see at least one carcass in the shell of a building”

Even through two cold hunks of plastic and steel, the shared sentiment hits me in the face.

“Then I should be a nice disruption from the norm.”

“i should say so. looking forward to seeing an animated face that’s… not my own”

“LMAOOOOOOO”

Ah yes, the switch that flips in those with any neurodivergency whatsoever when they grow comfortable.

I keep the tab open, but quickly open a new one for YouTube. I need a distraction from that embarrassing slip, stat.

The next few days pass fairly quickly. I binge Smosh Pit, the recordings of happier times keeping my hopes up as I walk around the nearby cities. I’ve no idea what to expect from Dorian, but the thought of a slightly energetic rambler entices me. I could use someone that refreshing as a companion.

He starts small conversations with me, presumably when he takes breaks from driving. He mostly likes to chat about games, books, music, anything I’ve reblogged. He even managed to get my Discord and BlueSky, and begged me to call him.

I told him I’d prefer to surprise him when we meet face to face, but I did send him a very old recording of me singing. A moment of weakness, but he seemed to sense my chagrin. He told me he liked the song and didn’t bring it up again.

I saw him the next day.

It reminded me of the old times. He was sitting at an outdoor table near a restaurant, fooling around on a Samsung Galaxy. I get a notification on my own phone.

“hey where are you”

“or uh. how soon can you be here”

“i’m in front of a panera bread with the dustiest green awnings known to man”

I decide to sneak up behind him and startle him by speaking aloud.

“They must be, since you’re the last man alive.”

He jumps as expected.

“JESUS CHRIST, man!”

He nearly knocks over his chair as he snaps around, and I get a good look at him.

He’s quite pretty, actually; messy auburn hair, the brightest green eyes I’ve ever seen, shorter than me by about three inches, and light peach skin as opposed to the golden tint of mine.

I’d look better if I weren’t incorporeal, of course, but he’s clearly assessing my appearance as well.

I know I’m a mess, my blonde hair eternally unbrushed but not tangled, brown eyes with dark circles that never go away, loose dark clothes… definitely not a good first impression.

He doesn’t seem to mind, though. His pupils are a bit wider, and he seems to forget his surroundings. It’s quite endearing.

I do have to snap him out of it, though. I wave a hand in front of his face.

“Earth to Dorian?”

He doesn’t start this time, simply averting his gaze to the side.

“Sorry… it’s been a long time since I, uh… actually saw someone else.”

“A fair point. So…”

“Can we go to the beach?”

I blink in surprise, before laughing.

“Of course. It’ll probably be less awkward there, won’t it?”

“I like watching birds. They’re silly and I think it’s entertaining enough.”

“I prefer swimming at night. Darkness is calming, and treading water reminds me that I’m still present.”

“…Well, when you put it like that, I sound stupid.”

“Don’t say that. Honestly, I sound depressing.”

“…We’re both losers, aren’t we?”

“And?”

“…Touche.”

I stay behind him while I direct him to the seashore, allowing myself to float just above the ground. He doesn’t seem to mind too much.

We spend the rest of the day on the shore, him chasing birds and I laying flat on the uncovered ground. At some point, I turn on my playlist, and he looks back to me with an enthusiastic smile. Eventually, I find the instrumentals to every song I have saved, and we fill the air with our own music. He’s almost as good of a singer as I like to think I am, and I easily harmonize with him.

Hours pass like that, and by the time the sun sets, we’re a giggling mess, talking about anything at all, starting a few campfires, dancing with as many different styles as Vane Lily wrote songs in. We loosened up hours ago, and he got a bit flirty somewhere around Collared.

Not that I can blame him. He’s the last man alive, and I’m the last vague recollection of what used to be.

Eventually, he settles beside me, and I force my body to solidify as much as I can.

“May I ask something?”

“Go ahead!” “…Why do you fixate on messing with the birds?”

“Well… I really like them, I guess…”

“…Might I ask something else?”

“Of course.”

“…Why do you like the birds?” “…I…”

“…Well, why do you like the stars?”

I pause at that.

“That’s a good question. I suppose… because they signify freedom to me, even though I choose not to free myself.”

“…Alright, walking poem.”

“…Shut up.”

“Make me.”

There’s only one response to that that I can think of.

I kiss him softly on the cheek. I’m not used to being intimate with anybody, but I can’t pass up this opportunity. We’ll have endless years to figure out if we’re a bad match, and we don’t even have to rush into this. But tonight… neither of us wants to keep our hands off the other.

Dorian pulls me closer without hesitation.

“I don’t want to say ‘I love you’ yet, but… can I stay with you? I’m kinda tired of walking aimlessly.”

I smile, of course, and bury my head into his chest. I may even gaze up at him amorously, I don’t care about how I present myself anymore.

This is a blog for people to submit any vocal synth songs, covers, human covers of vocal synth songs, and instrumental tracks.

You can really submit anything you like, but the Moderator will most likely not post anything she does not recognize.

Enlist your classmates, coworkers, family, friends, and enemies in the Skeleton Wars!

What does this entail?

Draw a skeleton hand! On your hand!

This can be with henna, gel-pens, glitter pens, felt-tip, brush pens, markers, etc.

The skeleton hand drawing MUST consist of all phalanges, metacarpals, carpals, and the beginnings of the radius and ulna.

You do not have to be good at art. You only have to draw BONES

You do not have to draw on both hands.

You may do other parts of the skeleton, if you so choose and if you will not be punished for it by the people around you. Examples of other bone options include the mandible and surrounding facial bones, small quantities of spinal discs, the patella and bones below it, etc.

I will be writing the Skeleton Song eventually and listening is most certainly optional for all participants

What the actual fuck, Vane?! The newer songs have no coherence or connection with the story they supposedly represent, the updates to the pre-existing characters suck MAJOR ASS (aside from Sarai and Nina), and hardly anything in the lyrics or MVs makes any sense.

With Cana and Isaiah I feel like they were quite disconnected with their sin (design and death wise). Cana was strangled by his girlfriend because he caught on to what she was doing to his image. Yeah Brooke's actions were out of envy but her reason for killing Cana wasn't. Same with how Isaiah died- tackling his supervisor and himself off a rooftop. His supervisor had excessive pride but it didn't directly contribute to Isaiah's suffering OR death. He wasn't even the one who killed Isaiah. And his design?? With James, Sarai, and Cana, you can easily tell what sin they embody. Maybe it's just me, but I certainly didn't know that Isaiah represented pride at first glance

And like you said, the lyrics have little to no connection to what the lore is. Genuinely I had no idea what was going on in Golden Idol and Love Me until I read the carrd for them. Love Me sort of tells you the story but it's really only the events that lead up to Cana's demise. Golden Idol just feels like someone wrote the lore and another person wrote the lyrics without knowing what the other was doing

So, for that clip of me singing Lemonade, I actually tried to fake an American accent hoping I would sound clearer, but I think it just... killed my expression and tone?

SO. THAT BEING SAID.

I don't record my own covers often since my recording materials are horseshit and using vocal synths is much easier. However...