Gothic Lit Blog

Hi, All! VanquishedHydra here! I am a proud Asexual, and I happily hyperfixate on Gothic Lit of any sort, but mainly focus on Frankenstein and Jekyll & Hyde.

[zephlovesspacestuff]

Odysseus lost in a forest: ALL I SEE ARE TREEEEES!

[marvelmaniac715]

I decided to put Rumplestiltskin in my Sims game (I'm awful at creating sims so I downloaded an incredible recreation from the gallery) and I even gave him a baby Baelfire to try and give him a happy ending. But that's not what this post is about. He had the erratic trait, you see, and for some reason that means that he kept stripping naked to 'shower in the rain', and he kept his clothes off whenever I'd try to have him practice magic. I did not want to see that, the mental image of live action OUAT Rumplestiltskin doing that frightens me a little bit. Yet he would not stop. I am mentally scarred. As punishment I married him to the skeleton maid Bonehilda.

[eldritchdilf-deactivated2025061]

Contrary to popular belief the biggest beginner's roadblock to art isn't even technical skill it's frustration tolerance, especially in the age of social media. It hurts and the frustration is endless but you must build the frustration tolerance equivalent to a roach's capacity to survive a nuclear explosion. That's how you build on the technical skill. Throw that "won't even start because I'm afraid it won't be perfect" shit out the window. Just do it. Just start. Good luck.

[ellipsus-writes]

If you haven't heard, the em dash has been getting a lot of attention lately…

Because it was trained on pirated work—including freely accessible online writing (like fanfic, academic texts)—ChatGPT picked up patterns and quirks native to human writing.

Including (sigh) the em dash.

There are other victims here (RIP tapestry and delve 🫠), but the appropriation of the em dash—a punctuation mark beloved by writers everywhere—feels especially personal.

A kind of low-grade panic is ensuing. Writers who once memed their own em dash overuse—the greatest punctuation mark ever to grace the control-freak’s lexicon, frankly—are suddenly backing away to avoid accusations.

No. More. We have centuries of dash-abusing writers behind us. We will not sit quietly while AI repurposes our beloved stilted aside—or the just-one-more clarification the sentence demands—or the dramatic pause your comma could never—etc.

You don’t write like AI—AI writes like you.

Defend the em dash.

(Feel free to download/share/stick it where it matters!)

[odypenfest]

This or That: OdyPen Edition 🌟

How do you like your OdyPen dynamics? 👀

[vanquishedhydra]

Greek Mythos AU

Penelope as being both fiery and outspoken, and calm and collected (depends on the instance)

Slow Burn

Odysseus as being both cunning and loyal and unpredictable and wily

Odyssey Ages

Both “We talk through everything” and “we read each other without words”

OdyPen Angst (but I am trying to write more fluff on the side).

@professionalwaterbender thoughts on this?

[vanquishedhydra]

Got bored, decided to try and make a musical arrangement of the “Zagreus” rhyme from Doctor Who. The main tune is based off of the way the Sixth Doctor sings it in the Audio Episode “Project Twilight”, albeit much more slowed down.

Zagreus Rhyme | Noteflight

Noteflight online music notation software allows you to create, view, and share music with the Noteflight Community. You may also buy and se

[tiktoksformyfriends]

[video by sternbergcamps. caption: for those of you who still don't understand *exactly what a geologist does...]

[by-gray]

please reblog this with your favourite eighth doctor quote so i have access to a massive chain of them. the more sassy or sarcastic they are, the better.

i’ll go first with:

no i’ve had no bananas today [said randomly during a serious interrogation]

[vanquishedhydra]

A personal favorite from The Chimes of Midnight:

*Speaking about someone who had recently been found dead via being run over by their own car.*

THE DOCTOR: Yes, I imagine so. It's quite clear that Frederick brought the car into the house, ran himself over with it, and put it back outside before he finally expired.

[vanquishedhydra]

Ramsay the Vortisaur (scientific name: Pterosauria vortexfera) from the Doctor Who Big Finish audio: Storm Warning.

My design is based off of a combination of pterosaurs (and a few dinosaurs), namely Quetzalcoatlus (main body, wings, face), Ludodactylus (teeth and main head crest), Velociraptor (front arms), and Diplodocus (tail).

Personal headcanons:

1) Vortisaurs can change colors to match the different colors present in the Time Vortex/blend into the Vortex, similar to the way chameleons blend in with their environments. In a similar vein, Vortisaurs imitate star clusters, nebulas, and even parts of galaxies across their bodies from the various times and places they’ve been present in.

2) Vortisaurs are like the albatrosses of the Space-Time continuum, in that they can travel for months, years, or even centuries (relatively speaking) without stopping to land.

3) Vortisaurs are facultatively bipedal (can run on hind legs when they need to, but are generally quadrupedal for the most part (when they do land)).

[valeyardx]

The tardis.fandom psychological profiles on each doctor will never not be funny because it really says things like

“He also tried to find a positive approach to life, even if it was a delusional one”

“I’m a deviation from his stagnant posture, the doctor would wring his hands together in a fidgety manner *proceeds to list the appearances of this which includes pretty much every tv story with five in*. he crossed his arms when sulking and was prone to dramatic turns, which usually caused his hair to sway wildly *again lists almost every five serial*”

“He once devoured a burger in a single mouthful”

“His liking of tea was so great that he allowed the UNIT tea lady unrestricted access to his private laboratory”

“While he usually acted like an eccentric gentleman, the eighth doctor also had moments of certifiable insanity and fitz kreiner worried the doctor was aware of his breakdowns, just unconcerned by them”

“By his own admission, the doctor had a ‘pink bunny slipper fetish’”

“It was during his sixth incarnation that the doctor began to see the logic in murder”

[dragons-are-epic]

My personal favourite, though it's from his character summary at the top:

A playful man who wanted the universe to be a peaceful and beautiful place, even when met with disaster, he was not averse to cheekily giving people hints about their futures as he revelled in life and living, but his lifetime was equally defined by some of the nastiest circumstances possible, from him constantly being captured and tortured to witnessing many senseless deaths.

Yeah, it sure was constant.

[vanquishedhydra]

"It was during his sixth incarnation that the Doctor began to see the logic in murder" - Only his sixth? Began?? Because I thought I remember One being quite happy to bash unsuspecting people over the head with rocks in one of his first serials.

Alright, maybe the Multi-Patterned Nightmare with a Penchant for Cat Pins was a tad more inclined to homicidal tendencies than his immediate predecessors or successors, but Semi-Feral Gremlin Grandfather is right there. He literally murdered one of his classmates/acquaintances/childhood bullies (and then covered the incident up with the Master's help) years prior to leaving Gallifrey, and then was just enough of a bastard to pin it on the Master, if I remember correctly.

But sure, Six was the one that had the initial inklings that murder was a Good Thing.

[sogekii-heii]

unrestrained summer fun(?)

[bloodofthepen]

I just referred to the First Doctor as “fresh off the Asshole Planet.”

[being-of-rain]

Ian, in a (very) heated arguement with Dr Who: YOU’RE NOT A SCIENTIST, YOU’RE JUST A GRUMPY OLD MAN FROM PLANET ASSHOLE

Dr Who, grabbing Chatterton’s lapels: HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT!? WHAT HAS SUSAN TOLD YOU!?!

[igor-kazzc]

In today's Homer's Iliad shenanigans we have

Odysseus: Thersites, if you say another word I'm going to beat the shit out of you *while he's already beating the shit out of him*

[junkyardbluebox]

Caption This!

[vanquishedhydra]

Eight: “Grace, how do you feel about a trip to an exploding volcanic wasteland to defeat a maniacal despot in the form of a giant flaming eyeball?”

[m0uthbr3ather]

Have you ever been to earth?

On earth, we use the word “burrito” to describe a tortilla filled with things you eat. Pretty simple stuff, and I’m surprised you at least got that part right. My burrito was, in fact, filled with food. In this, you and I agree and are friends. But this is also where my lifelong hatred begins for you and anyone else whose brain has been repeatedly scrubbed with the same mixture of bleach and Pop Rocks as yours has. Because that should have killed you, but left you around long enough to do what you did to me today. Let me explain:

You’re an idiot.

Let me further explain:

Burritos are eaten from one end to the other. So that means when you assemble a burrito with motherfucking ZONES of ingredients going that direction, you create a disgusting experience for the burrito’s end user. When you make a burrito, you should put the ingredients in layerslengthwise. That way, every bite has AT LEAST A FUCKING CHANCE of getting at least two types of ingredients, and there is little chance of becoming almost hopelessly trapped in a goddamned cilantro cavern.

Have you ever eaten one of the things you make all fucking day? You should try one. They are pretty good WHEN YOU ARE NOT WILLING YOURSELF THROUGH THE FUCKING EMPIRE OF SOUR CREAM ONLY TO END UP IN LETTUCE COUNTRY.

When you eat a burrito, you don’t stand it up and bite down on it lengthwise like a fucking Rancor. Humans can’t usually dislocate their jaws, and I’m not a fucking pelican. But you must think that’s how it’s done, since that would be THE ONLY FUCKING WAY to take a bite of your crapstrosity and have it taste like a burrito.

And guess what else, player? You probably can’t guess anything, because I’m pretty sure you’re just a mop with a hat on it that fell over and spilled some shit into a tortilla, but just in case, here’s what:

Humans also don’t eat burritos like fucking corn on the cob. Like a fucking typewriter from one end to the other a little at a time and then DING next line. But today I wish I had tried that. Because at least THEN I would be able to eat some rice, then beans, then be all like HEY BEANS I’LL BE RIGHT BACK JUST GOING OVER HERE TO THE GUACAMOLE FOR A SECOND.

Nope.

My experience was more like HEY BEANS IT’S JUST GOING TO BE YOU AND I FOR A MINUTE UNTIL I CAN FUCKING EXCAVATE THE RICE FROM BENEATH YOU BUT BY THEN YOU WILL BE A FADING MEMORY OH HEY I WAS WRONG I’M IN THE FUCKING CHEESEOSPHERE NOW RICE MUST BE NEXT I HOPE IT’S NOT ANOTHER FUCKING SALSA POCKET.

You built this thing like a fucking pack of LifeSavers.

And don’t even fucking think I’m about to open this shit up and re-engineer your nonsense 90 degrees. I ALREADY PUT A HOLE IN IT WITH MY FUCKING MOUTH. YEAH. THAT’S HOW I DISCOVERED YOU FUCKING SUCK AT LOOKING AT THINGS. I AM NOT GOING TO DO FUCKING TORTILLA ORIGAMI TO GET THIS SHIT BACK TOGETHER, ONLY TO END UP WITH A BURRITO THAT’S BEEN SHOT IN THE GUT AND IS BLEEDING YOUR INEPTITUDE.

What’s that? I should ask you to mix it up first next time? IS THIS JAMBA JUICE? I DON’T WANT TO DRINK MY FUCKING BURRITO THROUGH A BENDY STRAW, AND I DON’T WANT A PILE OF BURRITO SOUP IN A FLOUR CAN.

I just want a burrito.

In conclusion:

You’re the worst thing that has ever happened to the universe, you owe everyone everywhere an apology for this burritobomination, and I hope your babies look like monkeys.

UPDATE FOR EVERYONE WHO SAID “JUST EAT IT WITH A FORK”:

A fucking fork?

I DIDN’T ORDER THE FUCKING COBBURRITO SALAD.

If anyone ever handed me a burrito with a fork, THEY WOULD BE WEARING A BRAND NEW BURRITO HAT FROM MY FALL COLLECTION TEN SECONDS LATER.

That’s like buying a car and having them hand you a fucking wrench with the keys. Like YEAH WE KNOW THIS MOTHERFUCKER’S GOING TO EXPLODE AND BE SPREAD ACROSS EIGHT LANES AS SOON AS YOU HIT THE GAS, BUT SHIT, WE GAVE YOU A WRENCH, SO BE COOL.

Jesus already gave me two burrito forks. One at the end of each arm. They’re called fucking HANDS.

A fork. My god. I haven’t cried since I was six, but I’m fucking sobbing now.

People eat burritos with forks?

God is sorry he made us.

(Source)

[skwinky]

I always need this on my blog.

[xopachi]

I can’t be laughing this hard in the morning. 

[tootsiebb]

Yes

[kamari3]

Happy Ten Years to the Bad Burrito Post

[deadaaabattery]

@hellsite-hall-of-fame

[kiragecko]

[Image shows a tube of burrito fillings, vertical lines of food helpfully labeled. From left to right, they are:

guacamole (thick layer)

rice

beans

meat

sour cream (extra thick layer)

cilantro

salsa

cheese

lettuce

The image includes the article title, “Dear Guy Who Just Made My Burrito:” by Lucky Shirt in Comedy Corner.

End ID.]

[vanquishedhydra]

A Third Letter to the God I Used to Believe In

Dear God—

It’s been a while. A little over a year, maybe.

It’s the day before Easter as I’m writing this.

I went to my first ever Tenebrae service on Friday evening, and I was instantly catapulted back to the days when I would read the latter halves of the four gospels and wish, almost, but not quite praying that things could turn out differently, that the people involved would make different choices, that no one had to die horribly or be hurt.

And I think about that, and it’s kind of funny, isn’t it?

Even then, in Sunday school and into the years when I had a bit of fixation on theology, I always hated it when people got hurt, even if they’d been dead for 2,000 years. I hated the way it made me feel so, so… angry and sad and scared, in a way. (I haven’t picked up my Bible in a few years now, but I still remember the angry feeling I’d get every time I read Herod’s name on those pages. Out of all the people present, he just seemed extremely punchable to childhood me.)

The Easter story compounded all that and threw it into the sun to burn.

I didn’t care or understand what the concept of “sacrifice for sin” was, I just wanted everyone to be safe and happy and unhurt. Every year, every time I read it, my hopes were dashed. Add into it my rather vivid imagination and my tendency to empathize with others to the point of tears, and I would always feel sad and angry and at the same time… oddly cold, like someone was pouring ice water down my spine.

Like part of me was there, in those pages, in that time, like part of me could see everything that happened as it was read.

Part of me hopes now that there is no resurrection. That this life is all there is, and that there is nothing after, and that wherever the people in those pages are, if they’re anywhere, they are safe, and happy, and unhurt. Like they should have been.

If you are real, then please… let it be.

But that’s your problem, isn’t it? You want so badly to be in control that can’t even really let your supposed creations rest once it is their time. You condemn us to an eternal half-life of existence in the after, and try to claim that it’s good. That it’s something to strive for.

I find one A. C. Swinburne’s concept of an “After” much more appealing. Like him, I hope “that no life lives for-ever, that dead men rise up never, that even the weariest river winds somewhere safe to sea.”

I am so tired of people saying that there is something better on the so-called ‘other side’. I want, simply, to be able to say that I have lived, and that I have no regrets.

Let the dead lie. Let them sleep.

No more miracles.

No more signs.

No more resurrections.

Let us rest.

Let us make peace with our own mortality and that of our fellows.

And when it is our time, let us go.

Sincerely,

—Me.

[vanquishedhydra]

A Second Letter to the God I Used To Believe In

(Originally written a year or so ago)

Dear God—

It’s been… 3 months now.

I barely acknowledge you most of the time. Well, except on Sundays, when I pull together the ragged remains of what little faith I might still have in the existence of some higher being and go to church.

But not for religion, or because I believe. I don’t believe. I can’t. Not anymore. And, yet, some part of me still does. Still wants to, maybe.

So yeah, I’m still going to church, but not because I hold with any of the religious ideals. I go for the people there, for the company, an attempt to be social and friendly and not become a hermit in my room all the time. I go for the sake of easing my mother’s anxiety over me and my own sanity. I go because I’ve been basically adopted by these four older ladies who ask me how I’m doing and what I’ve been up to and worry when I don’t show up.

But I don’t go for you. You’re just the extra baggage that I don’t really care about. I don’t find you in church. Never have, never will. But then, it never seemed like you cared what I did or what I thought or what I said or where I ended up anyway.

Well, that’s fine. I’ve made my peace with that. But I haven’t forgiven you. I can forgive other people pretty easily, given a year or so to stew over it and pick at the grudge like an old scab. But you? No.

You don’t deserve me, or my forgiveness, or maybe even any of us members of humanity. Or maybe you do, but only the ones who seem to be outward representations of the metaphorical rot I see dripping from the rafters and seeping up through the floorboards like a river of bloodied, foul smelling sludge.

I’ve lost the majority of my faith, and to be honest, was never a fan of organized religion to begin with.

I’m still angry, but not as much as I was. It’s cooled down some since then. I’ve been working through accepting that it’s okay to feel… feelings and that’s it’s not inherently bad to do so.

Mostly, I’m just tired.

So that’s where I’m at. If you don’t like it, too bad.

I’m doing okay without you.

And that’s all you have the right to know.

Sincerely,

—Me.