#A very horrifying reality

[immediatebreakfast]

It's kinda fun, and all of that make jokes about how Van Helsing is probably shitting himself out of fear while Mina watches him without blinking a single time, but considering the whole picture between the two... Van Helsing is in a deeply fucked up situation straight up from a more horror like narrative than a gothic one.

Yes, there is a really good difference between the Gothic and Horror as literary genres. The Gothic genre uses amplified emotions such as terror as a response plot device to give commentary on any socio-political-cultural anxieties that were happening in the real time period which the plot is centered. More times than once it is also hand in hand with a personification of these anxieties in the form of the Monster or the Villain of the story. However, in the Horror genre this terror shapes itself in the front and center of the narrative as a way to explore the extreme of the darkness that lays within the human condition through emotions like disgust or the emotionally disturbing. By putting the characters in unsettling conditions, and against the inevitable grotesque, the Horror makes the readers have a reaction to its situation, and questions about said reactions as humans beings.

And what else to call this if not Horror? How does the character of Van Helsing, a man who thrived in the Gothic setting as the role of the foreign man of science with rational and cultural knowledge on his side, can defend himself against this change when the literary Horror declares that he can shifted from protagonist to victim whenever the narrative decides to inflict a new emotion to the reader?

Well, this sudden shift leaves Van Helsing utterly afraid.

She make no entry into her little diary, she who write so faithful at every pause. Something whisper to me that all is not well. However, to-night she is more vif.

There is nobody else but him, and Mina in this isolated mountain as winter falls down on the ground, absolutely nobody to turn for help.

At sunset I try to hypnotise her, but alas! with no effect; the power has grown less and less with each day, and to-night it fail me altogether. Well, God's will be done—whatever it may be, and whithersoever it may lead!

As Mina changes the closer she gets to Dracula's castle, it was never like this and never so unnervingly quickly.

I go to help her; but she smile, and tell me that she have eat already—that she was so hungry that she would not wait. I like it not, and I have grave doubts; but I fear to affright her, and so I am silent of it. 

With only his journal as a listening ear for his very justified worries, because Van Helsing fears that the questioning would finally break the very thin liminal feeling that is protecting him right now.

Madam still sleep, and she look in her sleep more healthy and more redder than before. And I like it not. And I am afraid, afraid, afraid!—I am afraid of all things—even to think but I must go on my way. The stake we play for is life and death, or more than these, and we must not flinch.

Right now Van Helsing is holding in his hands the promise that he made to both Mina and Jonathan before departing, he is holding onto that little ray of hope that tells him to ignore all of the warning signs all over Mina that any other character except Jonathan wouldn't have just ignored. All of these days Van Helsing is taking care of Mina while praying that she doesn't kill him if her transformation becomes complete before ever teaching their revenge, he has to write his "last" letter now before he can't ever write again.

[izzystizzys]

When the 212th collaborates with the 501st, chaos is sure to follow in their footsteps. This has been largely true of every engagement since the start of the war, in Cody’s experience. Had he even an ounce more of a rebellious streak, he might question why and whether the success rate is worth the feral instinct for mayhem his battalion and Rex’ awaken in each other - as it is, he simply fills out the after action reports and then screams into his pillow, which is hard as durasteel and doesn’t warrant the name.

Or, on some days, he steps into the training rooms to work off some nervous jitters only for his foot to catch on someone’s armoured shoulder and faceplant straight into what looks like the entirety of both battalions piled together in a massive cuddle pile.

“What”, he manages between gritted teeth, heaving himself up with one hand supported on Crys’ arm and the other planted in places that make Boil jackknife up with a strangled yelp, “the kriff is this?!”

“We’re watching the Corrie Reality Special, sir”, his own voice calls from somewhere across the room. “The 91st is passing by, so we have satellite access to the Coruscant Broadcast network for a few hours, and we couldn’t settle on a specific show -“

“- so we decided to watch them all”, Rex finishes, sheepishly, where he’s fought his way through wiggling piles, hoots and badly imitated monkey lizard noises. The thought that he shares DNA with these degenerates is enough to drive Cody to the brink of a nervous breakdown some days. “Spopcorn?”

Ah. The Corrie Reality Circuit. When Cody first heard of it, he’d thought it was a prank. Then, they were deployed to the middle of bumkriff nowhere on the edges of Midrim space edging on Outer Rim, with a connection so spotty even classified military intel only got through about half the time, and the whole idea got shelved in favour of clankers and keeping his General’s lightsaber in his General’s hand where it belonged.

Now, a gaudy, glittery monstrosity of a logo announcing a Coruscant Rotational special appears on a rigged up screen, which means one of two things: either Fox is pulling the Galaxy’s greatest long con on all of them, or he’s been murdered and replaced with an evil clone (ha!), because there are no circumstances in which he would agree to star on Coruscant Reality TV.

Cody tilts his head consideringly. Rex smiles at him sheepishly. Tilts the spopcorn bowl at him, invitingly.

“Oh, dank farrik, sit your shebs down!”, someone (Fives, probably) yells out, fed-up…ly.

Cody sits his shebs down.

“Good morning and welcome all of Coruscant to the Great Coruscant Rotational Special: Our Boys in Red Edition!”, a bright red Twi’leki man announces on the screen amidst cheerful jizz music and loud hooting from the training room. “My name is Braham Horton, and I will be your exalted host for this fine, fine late night cycle!”

��And now, gentlebeings of the metropolis, I present to you the images that have driven us all to laughter, joy, and even tears at times over these past few weeks - whodathunkit, that the CSF media project would enthrall a whole Galaxy of viewers and cause the largest recorded peaceful civil protest of all time?!”

“The sorry what now”, says Cody, suddenly thinking back to the urgent meeting General Kenobi was currently in with Generals Windu and Yoda - passing by on the Venator in orbit. “Uhm”, says Rex. Braham Horton, unfazed by the commotion he’s causing lightyears away, chatters on.

“- many hours, so we’ve compiled an introductory little best-of for you, exalted viewers! And what better best of to start off on than the hottest entry of the most explosive bombshell into the villa - please give it up for Commander Thorn and how he stole all of our hearts on Love Island!”

A garish, club-tech jingle Cody has so far only heard buzz through the walls of establishments that generally didn’t allow clones thrums through the training room, followed by what can only be described as the sort of noises spiced up banthas might make. Thorn appears on screen, more oiled up and half-naked than Cody remembers, though just as bleach-blond, hair slightly longer than regulation and smile blindingly perfect.

“I’m Commander Thorn, baseline twenty-four years humanoid - during daytime I might be the scourge of Coruscant’s criminal underworld, but at night I don’t mind playing good cop for you!” He punctuates it woth a sleazy wink and fingerblasters that have Rex honest-to-god gagging, and Cody seeing his life flash before his eyes. If Alpha-17 finds out about this…

Suddenly, Thorn’s smile drops in favour of what might almost be called a scowl on even his handsome face, and the music cuts out. “There, got your soundbyte. Can I go back now? I’m supposed to be on shift.” Indistinct, off-screen chatter and a captioned oopsie… appear in a shower of glitter. Thorn’s face does something complicated. “For HOW MANY MONTHS?!”

Cut to a montage of what Cody can only describe as beaches, oil and abs galore, Braham Horton narrates and extremely close-up shot of what Cody tries very hard not to identify as Thorn’s crotch. His own crotch, in a way. Oh no, that’s weird, stop that train of thought immediately-

“Although our favourite bombshell’s entry into the villa wasn’t without its hitches and hurdles-“, emphasized by a zoom-in on Thorn’s form in a speedo huddled away from a partying crowd of softcore-kriffing contestants on a yacht, “- as well as all know, he would soon find his place in the villa - or places, rather!”

Two crying humanoid women appear on screen, with eyeliner smudges down to their knees. A hoot goes through the room. Cody watches with a sense of impeding doom. “You slept with her after I chose to match up with you instead of Chad?! How could you!”

Thorn, still oiled up with both blasters out for the world to see, winces. “I didn’t me-“

A hysterical gasp, a camera swerve. Three more people stand by the doorway, all clutching their chests with wide eyes. A broad, green Twi’leki man raises a finger to point accusingly. “You were sleeping with them too?! I thought I was the only one!”

“Dear Force”, Cody murmurs, unable to look away from the building speeder wreck on screen. Braham Horton laughs good-naturedly at his misery. “Ah, good times! And who could forget the all-out brawl of the following matching night, where a record number of every single other contestant attempted to physically fight the others for the right to match up with Commander Thorn! Including a somehow returned Chad, who nearly won thanks to the element of surprise. I wish we could show the footage, but then we’d have to slap several warnings on it and probably still get taken off the air.”

“I didn’t know Corries kriffed like that!”, someone (Fives, let’s be honest, it was definitely Fives) calls out into the room, receiving snickers and a well-aimed pillow to the throat for his trouble. He goes down with a choking scream.

“Someone who was less impressed by the hot’n bothered beach weather was Commander Thire, who found himself Less than Impressed by his co-contestants inability to keep it in their pants on Too Hot To Handle!”

Thire’s face, identical to Thorn’s in every way except the ones that matter, appears on screen. His black hair is cut in a cropped mohawk, arms folded over a button-up he’s carefully pieced together with… safety pins? Where are the buttons on it?

“These people are pathological and pathetic and I will spend not a second longer on this farce of an attempt at ‘entertainment show’”, says Thire, air-quotes so sharp they could cut stone. His scowl might be permanently etched into his face, Cody can’t tell. “Unlike literally everyone else, I have an actual job to do. Now move.”

A brief pause, in which cheerful jizz music plays over what is obviously a producer begging off-camera, followed by an eyeroll so hard it hurts Cody’s brain to watch. Thire throws his hands into the air in defeat, marching off into the sea behind him still fully clothed.

“When they didn’t find him until the last episode, I’ll admit, I thought he’d died too!”, Braham Horton cuts in cheerfully. “But would you look at his little lonely island lair - now that’s a fulfilled man, and too many coconuts for my taste! We’ve had to blur his hands out as he discovered the cameras just moments before these holos were taken, unfortunately. And, dear viewer, who could forget this exit-interview for the ages!”

A considerably more clothed Thire appears on screen, eyeing a microphone like he’s about to use it to stab out his own eyes. The reporter clears their throat in audible anxiety. “C-commander, how would you describe your reality experience in one word?”

“Demeaning”, says Thire, blandly.

Silence.

“Um, o-okay”, squeaks the reporter.

“Would you like some more words?”, asks a dead-eyed Thire.

“No, um, I think - I think we’re alright.”

“Because I have many words. Mostly for whoever the *bleep* thought this was a *bleep* good idea, and *bleeeeeeee-*”

“We’ve had to censor most of the Commander’s on-screen appearance, dear viewer, for your sensibilities”, says Braham Horton, eternally and painfully cheerful. “And speaking of sensibilities, who could forget Commander Stone honouring his name in several challenges on ‘I’m A Holostar - Get Me Out Of Here!’”

Soulful violin music fills the gym, overlaid with images of a bald vod Cody surmises must be Stone. Stone stares stonily into the void, glass of bright green something raised to his lips and already half-empty.

“Memorably, he downed a pint of acklay urine within seconds-“

Horrified screams are followed by an image of Stone chewing, yet another thousand-klick stare.

“- or when he ate Tauntaun anus -“

Rex doubles over gagging, and Cody slowly puts his handful of Spopcorn back down.

“- of course the ten minute worm-bath challenge cannot go unmentioned -“

“FORCE PLEASE NO!”, screams someone (Echo) tearfully. Commander Stone, buried to the chin in wiggling orange worms, looks less impressed.

“ - and who could forget his encounter with a horde of ginntho spiders and nests of vexis snakes!”

A remote goes sailing past the screen, missing by a mile, as images of Stone with his whole arm stuck in various boxes fly past. Someone is retching. It might be Cody.

“We would show the infamous butchery challenge wherein the Commander found himself drenched in nexu guts and sandworm brains, but once again, this is family friendly programming and we are not allowed. Nevertheless, a win well-deserved. And now, please welcome the one, the only, the awe-inspiring, the unbelievable: Marshall Commander Fox!”

Another Force-awful jingle, big, blocky letters, and Cody chokes on his own spit when Fox’s scowling face appears on screen. He’s thinner, greyer and angrier than the last time they saw eachother in person. Only the last one is really a surprise.

“I am neither naked nor afraid”, says Fox, arms crossed firmly, foot tapping impatiently on the ground. “I am, however, quickly losing my patience. Explain to me again the point of spending my valuable time undressing in the middle of bum-*bleep* nowhere on the Midrim instead of doing my job as the head of planetary security in the middle of a Galaxy-wide war?”

Several beats of silence follow. Fox grows less impressed with each. Cody knows that look well. Usually, it precedes handcuffs and a cold sonic blast to the face.

“Um… you signed a contract?”, says a producer’s voice uncertainly off-screen. Fox barks out a harsh laugh. “I’m legally classified as military property, my signature holds less weight than if I’d had one of the Guard’s massiffs shit on that contract for me.”

“Ouch!”, calls Crys.

“Gettim!”, adds Longshot.

“But… don’t you sign off military documents all the time for the Senate?”, sputters the producer.

Fox smiles with far to many teeth. It’s also a look Cody knows far too well, and even lightyears away it has a shudder going down his spine.

“Really makes you think about the technicalities of that definitely-not-slave-army, doesn’t it?”, he says, dryly.

“Although considerably less naked and afraid than all other contestants, Commander Fox left us with many memorable moments - such as when he saved the entire crew from an angry Acklay!”

Most of the next holovid is blurred out, though Cody can (unfortunately) guess at the why and how. So can most everyone else, judging by the collective groan.

“Down, boy”, says Fox, flatly, to a hissing Acklay twice his size. It rears its fanged head, and a shudder goes through the room. Fox simply crosses his arms and nails the beast with an unimpressed look. “You are making a fool of both of us. Cut it out.”

Chastised, the Acklay blinks at him, slowly lowering itself back down with a confused hiss.

“No kriffing wonder all the Corrie shinies are such hardasses”, mutters Rex, whom Cody is hard pressed to agree with. “I came from a tube and that look gave me daddy issues.”

“Yes, dear viewer, who could forget these heart-warming moments of good, quality television!”, sighs Braham Horton, dreamily. “Not Coruscant anytime soon, that’s for sure! We are now entering the twentieth rotation of the sit-in protest of a petition to allow the Commanders of the Coruscant Guard to compete on Dancing With The Planets, Coruscant Rotational’s epic dance competition!”

“Dear bum-kriffing Force”, whispers Rex, wide-eyed and awe-struck. “Does Fox know about this?!”

Cody, who’s already dialing the kriffer’s comm-code, wipes a singular tear from his eye. “Not a clue, but kriff, am I going to enjoy telling him.”

[thefearfulheart]

I offer another clownbo au to the clownbo people again

God Evbo keeps restarting the timeline because something ends up happening to Void that ends up with him dying each time and it breaks Evbo every time it happens.

So he thinks that if he can restart the timeline again that he’ll be able to fix it, that he can stop it before it happens so he does it and he’s back at square one as a noob but with the power of a god at his fingertips and he races back to the top and his first meeting with Void. Relief washes over him as he sees him and he ends up hugging a confused Void who has no idea what’s going but assumes that Evbo is just happy that he didn’t die in general.

Everything goes as it did in the original timeline and it’s great! Evbo even ends up solving things way quicker and getting it all done so much faster than beforehand! The only thing that really threw him off is when during when they went through the hidden level again that when he met the Parkour Villain it ended up with the guy looking at him for an uncomfortable amount of time before actually getting out of his prison and just saying:

“So we meet again.”

Which confuses Evbo and he doesn’t even notice that Seawatt ends up swiping his diamond boots again while he doesn’t notice and giving them to the Villain.

But he ignores it and goes to find him again and defeat the villain.

And he wins.

Then everything is good and great for awhile…Void is alive and breathing and smiling and-

And then he dies.

So evbo tries again.

Because he failed Void, so he needs to try again for him.

So he starts again and climbs his way to the top to see Void again and then continues on towards to meeting the Villain but this time no words are exchanged.

Everything proceeds as normal until the final parkour race between them…and the course has changed.

But Evbo pushes it back and defeats the Villain again.

And everything is good again.

But Void dies and he restarts the timeline to save him.

And again and again. A rinse and repeat cycle that always end with Void dying and begins with Evbo restarting as the villain, perhaps tiredly, stays silent the entire time as it goes through with the only variations being changes to the end parkour course.

It’s a maddening cycle and Evbo feels his sanity slipping bit by bit.

Maybe in the 50th loop or so the villain finally snaps and grabs Evbo by the shoulders with such a rage that it surprises the god.

“Is this some divine punishment of yours that you crafted for me?” The villain would say as his fingers dig into the other’s skin. “To know that I will never win against you…that no matter how hard I try to defeat you that it is just a laughable joke in the end!”

“W-what?” Evbo is just…surprised even though it makes a lot more sense on why the villain changed over time or that the course he beats him in changes. “N-no! How?-“

“How many times have I seen your face? How many times have I died by your hands…”

And the villain just throws him onto the ground with barely hidden anger as Evbo scrambles to…apologies? He doesn’t know.

He didn’t know that someone else…he didn’t know. He doesn’t know what to say.

So he just restarts the timeline and runs away from it as guilt crawls its way to his heart.

But he doesn’t stop it. He’s already gone to far and it’s fine…it’s just a fluke right?

It can’t happen again.

But the next time the villain sees him and, the minute he gets down from his prison, he jumps on top of him and goes to punch him before Evbo restarts the timeline with the realisation that no…it wasn’t a fluke. That it definitely did happen and it now makes everything so much more worse.

It makes him want to vomit.

[jerreeeeeee]

i don’t know if i’m ever gonna write the fic but i’ve been thinking abt like. the eternal stockade. the implications. lup, a lich who was trapped in a dark featureless cell for a decade completely isolated with nothing to keep her sanity but her own mind. she has to put people in the eternal stockade. how many liches does she see herself in. how many liches started out just like her. how many liches are truly too far gone. and the only liches we ever see other than her and barry are edward and lydia. they’re certainly evil, but mad? they seem pretty sane. they’re not, like, tattered echoes of souls, they’re definitely still people. even as much of a grudge as lup surely has against them, wouldn’t they remind her incredibly strongly of herself? do they deserve to be trapped just like she was? for eternity? isn’t eternity what turned john to existential despair in the first place?

[wonder-worker]

I've been thinking about the tragedy of Elizabeth Woodville living to see the end of her family name.

I don't mean her family with her husband, which lived on through her daughter and grandson. I mean her own.

Her sisters died, one by one, many of them after 1485. When Elizabeth died, only Katherine was left, and she would die before the turn of the century as well.

All her brothers died, too. Lewis died in childhood. John was executed. Anthony was murdered. Lionel died suddenly in the peak of Richard's reign, unable to see his niece become queen. Edward perished at war. Richard died in grieving peace. For all the violence and judgement the family endured, it was "an accident of biology" that ended their line: none of the brothers left heirs, and the Woodville name was extinguished. We know the family was aware of this. We know they mourned it, too:

“Buy a bell to be a tenor at Grafton to the bells now there, for a remembrance of the last of my blood.”

Elizabeth lived through the deposition and death of her young sons, and lived to see the end of her own family name. It must have been such a haunting loss, on both sides.

[ghost-bxrd]

What if one of Jason's Red Hood revenge plans go off the rails, in Owl Song?

Off the rails as in, Dick gets caught in something that can kill even a talon - say, a big enough explosion... Jason left convinced Dick is dead and he is responsible for it...

If Jason is absolutely sure Dick is dead/beyond any chance of being revived either with electrum or other supernatural means…. He’d completely shut down, turn himself into authorities, and plead for the death penalty.

[diathadevil]

I just realized I have VERY specific memories of what I was afraid of growing up as a wee little devil. So I need to see if others had a similar experience to my own.

(or if not just laugh at these dumb moments with me 'cuz I grew out of them eventually. some of them took me longer than the rest.)

[aroaessidhe]

2023 reads

The Deep Sky

scifi mystery thriller

on a deep space mission traveling from an environmentally devastated earth with hope to restart humanity elsewhere

when they’re halfway, an explosion kills 3 crew and pushes them off course

the only witness is the Alternate who has no specific role, and she has to figure out who caused it & if they might continue to sabotage, while they're figuring out a way to get back on course with limited resources

flips between present and the past: of her childhood and training for the mission, her identity struggles, and relationship with her mother

questions the ethics of ‘restarting’ humanity elsewhere vs putting resources into fixing earth

[b-blushes]

migraine has been bestowed upon me

[moodr1ng]

i think its so fun to see how when people are more or less used to horror media it has a vastly different effect on them.. for me personally im used enough to it that i dont get THAT scared of any horror anymore, though as a teen i was very sensitive to it, and tbh while ig id gain a deeper experience of the intended horror if i wasnt desensitized to it, i dont actually like being scared LOL so im fine where im at.

but the thing that i always remember is "the horla" by guy de maupassant, an 1887 horror short story about a guy who is being tormented at night by some sort of presence or being he calls 'the horla' and doubts his sanity as he tries to get proof of the things existence. when i was a kid, my mom would always bring up how she read the horla at 19 and was so completely horrified by it that she couldnt sleep in the dark for weeks. she always recounted just how absolutely terrifying this story was. so eventually as a young teen i read the horla, and i was like.. ok? and? thats it...? it had no effect on me at all, it was basically just a sort of lame ghost story to me.

but eventually i did get to understand that when my mom read the horla, that was the first horror story she had ever read. even after she immigrated to france, i think what she read and watched was still overseen by her parents, and this kind of literature wasnt the stuff she was supposed to read, so she just.. hadnt, presumably until at 19 she ran away and was free to do whatever. and the first time she read a scary story that stuff hit her HARD. its a little funny from my pov to imagine a 19yo being scared half to death by the horla of all things but considering the context its totally reasonable.

so yeah whatever no point to this i was just thinking about le horla again.. and how scary everything was to me when i was a young teen as well

[the-crow-binary]

Tfw you look up images of pregnant women for a drawing but end up just weirded out and gives up the idea altogether

[empty-blog-for-lurking]

I want to thank my Lord and savior Tom Cardy for posting a song that has the exact vibe I wanted for the relationship of ps8!Lance/ps8!Allura with an oc I have for this au

[nebulaleaf]

not enough people talk about missing the palace deadline end in third sem. i know it's because there's not a lot of meat to it compared to the "good end" and the "true end" but oughhoggug. it drives me insane in all the best ways. the cobwebs. akira giving in to apathy and going "i dont wanna think any more..." becoming just like the masses he so desperately sought to seperate himself from and save just a week or so prior. marukis ominous as fuck "...for as many days or weeks you have left." the fact that his reasonable choice of action in the face of akira being undecided is to put him asleep forever, as if that's somehow more moral than forcing him into marukis ideal reality

the phone thing! the fact that its implied akira has woken up multiple times and still succumbed to sleep! the blue butterfly attempting to reach out, but ultimately dying! akira is utterly alone and i doubt anyone even remembers him in this reality! its so fucked!!!!

[rotzaprachim]

I think I’m doing sooo well and then WHOOP random anxiety/ptsd/ocd attack

[pochapal]

shannon also bringing up the "violent witch" narrative as well in much the same way that the other servants were doing so in the kitchen oh it's not looking good for her at all

[wehadfaces]

started watching milf manor with my own mother. please someone tell me this is all for social science