I Met One Of My Aunt's Archaeologist Friends/colleagues Earlier Today & He Was Telling Me About Legends

Here’s the thing: I love the horror AESTHETIC, but I hate the horror MOOD. I find “fear” and “horror” to be unpleasant emotions, ones that I don’t want to experience in my enjoyment-media.

It makes finding stuff a bit challenging, let me tell you. So like, if you know anything that fits that bill, can you share it with me? (I’m already aware of @normal-horoscopes, and I’m familiar with Welcome To Night Vale.

I like stories with things that are weird, and unnatural, and dangerous in the same sense that a river or a fire is dangerous; it cares nothing for you and can destroy you, but it also has no malice and, once you know its nature, you can work with it more-or-less safely, so long as you never think yourself “safe”.

I like dark castles ruled by ominous and mysterious beings, and I especially love the various petty drama that happens between the monsters who work in said castles.

I like things that explore the realities and challenges of different forms of unlife, of being something changed and inhuman; but I don’t like things that delve too deep into “I’m having an existential crisis and all of my former friends now hate me”, that’s a completely DIFFERENT form of horror, one which I find deeply unappealing.

Just rediscovered potentially the funniest thing I’ve written in recent memory

The Queen is Britain’s last living link with our former greatness – the nation’s id, its problematic self-regard – which is still defined by our victory in the second world war. One leading historian, who like most people I interviewed for this article declined to be named, stressed that the farewell for this country’s longest-serving monarch will be magnificent. “Oh, she will get everything,” he said. “We were all told that the funeral of Churchill was the requiem for Britain as a great power. But actually it will really be over when she goes.”

Unlike the US presidency, say, monarchies allow huge passages of time – a century, in some cases – to become entwined with an individual. The second Elizabethan age is likely to be remembered as a reign of uninterrupted national decline, and even, if she lives long enough and Scotland departs the union, as one of disintegration. Life and politics at the end of her rule will be unrecognisable from their grandeur and innocence at its beginning. “We don’t blame her for it,” Philip Ziegler, the historian and royal biographer, told me. “We have declined with her, so to speak.”

The obituary films will remind us what a different country she inherited. One piece of footage will be played again and again: from her 21st birthday, in 1947, when Princess Elizabeth was on holiday with her parents in Cape Town. She was 6,000 miles from home and comfortably within the pale of the British Empire. The princess sits at a table with a microphone. The shadow of a tree plays on her shoulder. The camera adjusts three or four times as she talks, and on each occasion, she twitches momentarily, betraying tiny flashes of aristocratic irritation. “I declare before you all that my whole life, whether it be long or short, shall be devoted to your service, and the service of our great imperial family to which we all belong,” she says, enunciating vowels and a conception of the world that have both vanished.

It is not unusual for a country to succumb to a state of denial as a long chapter in its history is about to end. When it became public that Queen Victoria was dying, at the age of 82, a widow for half her life, “astonished grief … swept the country”, wrote her biographer, Lytton Strachey. In the minds of her subjects, the queen’s mortality had become unimaginable; and with her demise, everything was suddenly at risk, placed in the hands of an elderly and untrusted heir, Edward VII. “The wild waters are upon us now,” wrote the American Henry James, who had moved to London 30 years before.

The parallels with the unease that we will feel at the death of Elizabeth II are obvious, but without the consolation of Britain’s status in 1901 as the world’s most successful country. “We have to have narratives for royal events,” the historian told me. “In the Victorian reign, everything got better and better, and bigger and bigger. We certainly can’t tell that story today.”

The result is an enormous objection to even thinking about – let alone talking or writing about – what will happen when the Queen dies. We avoid the subject as we avoid it in our own families. It seems like good manners, but it is also fear. The reporting for this article involved dozens of interviews with broadcasters, government officials, and departed palace staff, several of whom have worked on London Bridge directly. Almost all insisted on complete secrecy. “This meeting never happened,” I was told after one conversation in a gentleman’s club on Pall Mall. Buckingham Palace, meanwhile, has a policy of not commenting on funeral arrangements for members of the royal family.

And yet this taboo, like much to do with the monarchy, is not entirely rational, and masks a parallel reality. The next great rupture in Britain’s national life has, in fact, been planned to the minute. It involves matters of major public importance, will be paid for by us, and is definitely going to happen. According to the Office of National Statistics, a British woman who reaches the age of 91 – as the Queen will in April – has an average life expectancy of four years and three months. The Queen is approaching the end of her reign at a time of maximum disquiet about Britain’s place in the world, at a moment when internal political tensions are close to breaking her kingdom apart. Her death will also release its own destabilising forces: in the accession of Queen Camilla; in the optics of a new king who is already an old man; and in the future of the Commonwealth, an invention largely of her making. (The Queen’s title of “Head of the Commonwealth” is not hereditary.) Australia’s prime minister and leader of the opposition both want the country to become a republic.

Coping with the way these events fall is the next great challenge of the House of Windsor, the last European royal family to practise coronations and to persist – with the complicity of a willing public – in the magic of the whole enterprise. That is why the planning for the Queen’s death and its ceremonial aftermath is so extensive. Succession is part of the job. It is an opportunity for order to be affirmed. Queen Victoria had written down the contents of her coffin by 1875. The Queen Mother’s funeral was rehearsed for 22 years. Louis Mountbatten, the last Viceroy of India, prepared a winter and a summer menu for his funeral lunch. London Bridge is the Queen’s exit plan. “It’s history,” as one of her courtiers said. It will be 10 days of sorrow and spectacle in which, rather like the dazzling mirror of the monarchy itself, we will revel in who we were and avoid the question of what we have become.

‘London Bridge is down’: the secret plan for the days after the Queen’s death

Beatriz Machado at Edward Crutchley SS 20

mcu has done IRREPERABLE damage to the public view of superheroes and im not even kidding. so many people (especially in leftist spaces!) when they think superhero think "soulless profit-driven husk of vaguely liberal ideologies". i am begging and pleading and screaming and throwing up and jumping onto spikes please read a green arrow comic or doom patrol or anything please i promise you superheroes have merit and worth i promise you the mcu is lying to you and superheroes have so much more potential than disney allows them to experience PLEASE *foam dripping from lips*

why are star wars planets more boring than earth and our solar system like sure we’ve seen desert, snow, diff types of forest, beach, lava, rain, but like… 

rainbow mountains (peru)

red soil (canada/PEI)

rings (saturn’s if they were on earth) 

bioluminescent waves

northern lights (canada)

salt flats (bolivia, where they filmed crait but did NOTHING COOL WITH IT except red dust?? like??? come ON)

and cool fauna like the touch me not or like, you know, the venus flytrap.. and don’t get me started on BUGS like… we have bugs cooler than sw aliens

BASICALLY like???? come on star wars you had one (1) job where are the cool alien species

One of my favorite things about Put Baby In Pelican Mouth is that not only does the pelican have the intelligence necessary to speak human language but also knows how to lie, suggesting it has a theory of mind, yet not enough to understand that no one is going to put baby in pelican mouth.

when I was driving home today, I saw about 4 old women wearing head to toe gothic gear. Black lace, black facinators, black jewellery, black parasols

And I got super happy, just delighted that older woman in my area feel comfortable dressing in alternative fashion

it was only as i got halfway up the road that it dawned on me they're probably wearing mourning outfits cuz the Queen fukkin died

ultimately like it or not asoiaf’s perspective on gender is that it is entirely constructed and prescribed by society and must be performed (by you or on you) and that performance is almost always a domain of unending horror and violence. and very few seminal fantasy works contain similar perspectives. so