#internet gothic

[kar1world]

[gallowsgiggle]

[darkerknowledge]

There is a certain internet gothic vibe about captchas now and other options on sites. Like is clicking “PLEASE REMEMBER ME” and “I AM NOT A ROBOT” going to become less about convenience and more about reminders to ourselves?  

[dying-hemlock]

Twitter Gothic

Today's news about the Elongated Muskrat has inspired me to write this.

Your friends have left and moved to other places. You are left here alone and stranded. Yelling into the void.

There are more bots than people. Day by day their numbers are growing.

Whenever you try to type *his* name your post becomes c̸̢̡̡̝̭̲̪̣͓̠̟̼̚ó̴̢̧̨̦̱̙̦̹̠̬͍͉̖̋̀̀̕͜r̷̗͚͚͊̍͌̓̒̔́̔̿ŕ̵̞̗͉͓͇̾̈́̑̕͜ṷ̵̙̝̿̄̓̈́͗̚͝p̴͓͉̬̲̠̟̘̱̘̝̤̠͈̉͛̒̍͂̒͊̚͜t̶̛̛͕͍͎̒͌̈́̍̓̓̌́̐͝͝ę̶̘͖͖̦̥̻̲̭̳̫̻̞̓̾͑̾̓͘̚͘̚d̷̦͔̥̤̗̮̤̩͚̲̝̼̔̑̉͝͝.

Every other post is an ad leading to dead end links. There is no life here. There is no life here. There is no life here. There is no life here. There is no life here. There is no life here.

After weeks, you finally see a post from another person again. It is your friend, but his words make no sense appearing more incoherent with each character.

The bots numbers keep growing. They are harder to tell apart from humans than ever before.

G̴̢̡̰̼͙͔̝̏̊́͊̿͆͗̂̚o̴̧̧̬̦͈͇͙̞̝̘͔͚̞͔͑͋͋d̸̛̲̩͍̩͔͕̉̉͋̔͊̽̐͛̈́͌̐̕̚͠ ̶̨̡̡̛̦̯͕̽̋̄͋̋̑̊̈́͒̐͘͠ş̷̢̝̲̯̟͍̩̖̳̜̋̀͛͊̂̀͋̚͘͜͝ą̴̹͉̹͍͓̙̍̌̄͆̾̈́́̑̎́͑͐͝͠v̴̧̲͉̮̝̭͇̪̥̺̰̙̽ĕ̶͇̖̪̦̖͈̺͕̣͑̌ ̷̡̨̨̫͙̹͕͕͎̗̺̇̍̓̈́̄̂̊̽͂̀̊̑́͜ͅyỏ̴̡̡̬͖̖̭̞̭̥̻̻̲̠̥̘͗̏̍̔͗͂̍́̍̎u̶̗̥̎͌̏̀̒̉̀̋̎̒ȑ̸̢̥̪͔̫͉̣̲̩͈̍͗̓̏̆͐ ̶̡̰̰͕̞̑̓̊̋̿͆͆̚͝s̷̭̳͙̥͈̙̻͒͊̇̀͒̆̉͒̽͆͆͋̏́͝o̸̡͖̥̱̹͋̀̅̍̿͗͒͊̃͊͘͝ȕ̶͈̪͌̀̏̌̓̌̐̈́͑l̷̳̯͎̈́̎̋̃̂̋̇̎̽

[misc-claire]

is my inability to do math making this breakout room uncomfortable? does my ineptitude scare you? am I a pitiable reflection, breaking apart amongst the waves? or is that just in your mind.

[horrificmemes]

Victorian Gothic is amazing, but what if Internet Gothic was a thing? 

Tumblr has been down for 24 hours now. Staff promises to fix things, but they never do. There are rumors floating around that there never was a Staff at all.

You see the 10th ad for TruthFinder in a single hour, and you can’t stop yourself from clicking on it. You decide to search for yourself. Nothing shows up. You don’t exist. TruthFinder asks for your credit card number, and you begin to wonder if this is a advertisement ... or a ransom.

You log in to a chatroom. Everyone is there, but no one is speaking. You wonder if they’re even alive.

After hundreds of clickbait videos on YouTube, you roll your eyes at the over-dramatic titles on the screen. “Help Me”, “There’s a Demon in my House”, and so on and so on. An hour later, you log in to find that channel has been deleted. You were their only hope.

You get an email: So-and-so wants to connect with you on MySpace. Memories of that place return to you, and you erase the email with haste. Another email appears: So-and-so still wants to connect with you on MySpace.

You enter a forum you’ve been frequenting the last few days. Nothing is there. You begin to wonder if it was ever there to begin with.

You log in to see that a friend has tagged you in a photo on Facebook. The photo is terrible, and you don’t even remember posing for it. You try to un-tag yourself, but the option isn’t there.

You tell someone about this interesting thing you saw the day before. They don’t believe you. Suddenly, you don’t believe yourself. After all, pics or it didn’t happen.

[thekawaiibutterflygirl]

Internet Gothic

You look to see everyone is speaking in abbreviated speech. You start too. You don't remember.

It should be midday according to your clock. But you don't see the sun. Your curtains are closed.

You see someone crying out for help, drowning. Everyone just nods in agreement.

You talk to your long distance friends for the first time. They sound strange. You ignore it.

You make a mistake. Everyone repeats it. You repeat it too. Soon everyone forgets.

It's 3 am, everyone is pouring out secrets. You are too. There is an awkward reminder, but you don't speak of it.

You hear your cat scratching at your door. You get up from talking to your friends. You open it. Nothing's there. You don't have a cat.

You're watching videos, you're watching one of grass pouring out a strange liquid, you don't remember how you got there.

You meet someone new with a name you never seen before. They ask you if you remember them. You don't, but you nod your head.

You hear people of talking of politics, you chime in to give your opinion. They all stare at you. You never give your opinion again.

You see someone arguing with someone about religion. Their accounts have been dead for ten years, when you look back, the comment thread is gone.

You're reading a very nice but an awfully odd self insert fanfic. You really like it. You save it in your bookmarks. Years pass and you agressively search through them. The page is gone. You can't remember what it's called.

You find some kind of porn. It's everywhere. You can't escape it. You try to delete your internet history. It's still there.

You're dead inside, everyone's dead inside, an adult looks concerned, you change the subject.

Everyone is afraid of medicine. You can't understand why. You say you need cough drops. They tell you marijuana is better.

You see someone trolling. You look to see people threatening murder. They're all afraid, everyone's afraid, you can't bring yourself to ask why.

You start typing at 11 pm. It's now 3 am, where'd the time go?

You try to log out for the night. You look up to see everyone on their devices. You can't log out. There is no log out button. You just turn off your device. It'll be on by the time you wake up.

[existential-celestial]

me: where is the post i just blogged/reblogged? tumblr: here tumblr: here tumblr: here tumblr: here tumblr: here tumblr: he—