#gothic literature

[ratkingslibrary]

“I do know that for the sympathy of one living being, I would make peace with all. I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other.”

-Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

Hey. Don't cry. Weird teenage girl somewhere out there reading Frankenstein for the first time. Ok?

[kagilasgilas]

"From the moment I met you, your personality had the most extraordinary influence over me. I quite admit that I adored you madly, extravagantly, absurdly."

— Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

[emilyscastlevania]

[heartgoth90]

An audio drama adaptation of Carmilla, my favourite book?

You dirty mother fuckers, I'm in!

Get ready for a strange visitor... our audio drama adaptation of Carmilla releases next month! See the cast and crew here, and join our Patreon to listen to the first half of the series now!

[n1ght0f-nyx]

OMG I LOVED THE FIC OF FINDING THE HUNGRY CREATURE IN THE WOODS WOULD YOU CONSIDER MAKING A PART TWO PLEASE!?!?!??

frankensteins monster (adam) x reader pt 2

no tags or warnings for this one

word count- 800

Your breath formed small clouds as you trudged through the familiar path, the basket at your side heavier today than yesterday.

You had promised to return, and you would not break your word.

The memory of the creature—his hollow cheeks, the gaunt lines of his face, the way he had devoured the food with a desperation that spoke of weeks, perhaps months, of starvation—had haunted you through the night. You had lain awake, staring at the wooden beams of your ceiling, wondering who he was. What had happened to him? How had he come to be abandoned in these desolate woods, alone and afraid?

You pushed those thoughts aside as you approached the clearing where you had left him. At first, the space seemed empty, untouched but for the fresh snow that had settled overnight. For a moment, doubt gnawed at you. Had he left? Had he taken your offering as a kindness but chosen to move on?

Then you saw him.

He was half-hidden between the trees, his immense form pressed against the trunk of a fallen oak. His eyes flickered toward you, wary, uncertain. But he did not run.

"You stayed," you said softly, more to yourself than to him.

The creature’s gaze lingered on you, his expression unreadable. He said nothing, but he did not move away when you took a cautious step closer.

You knelt down, setting the basket between you, pulling out a small bundle of bread and dried meat. He eyed it, his nostrils flaring slightly at the scent, but he did not lunge for it as he had the day before.

"I brought more this time," you explained, unwrapping the cloth carefully. "And a blanket. It’s not much, but it should help against the cold."

He looked at the blanket, his massive hands flexing at his sides. Then, slowly, hesitantly, he reached for it. The fabric disappeared into his grasp as he unfolded it, running his fingers over the rough wool.

A quiet moment passed before he murmured, "Warm."

You blinked. It was the first time he had spoken more than a single word to you.

Encouraged, you smiled gently. "Yes. I thought it might help."

He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, shifting slightly, and for the first time, the sharpness in his expression dulled just a little. He looked… less afraid.

"Are you feeling better?" you asked.

He hesitated, then nodded.

Relief flooded through you. "Good."

A silence settled between you both, though it was not entirely uncomfortable. You watched him eat, slower this time, savoring each bite rather than tearing through it like an animal starved. He seemed more present today, less caught in the throes of pure survival. You studied him, his face still haggard, his lips cracked from the cold, but his hands steady. His eyes—dark and deep as the forest shadows—held something you could only describe as curiosity.

"Why?" he rasped suddenly, his voice rough from disuse.

You frowned. "Why what?"

He swallowed, his throat working around the word. "Help."

You exhaled slowly, considering your answer. "Because you needed it."

His brow furrowed as if the concept was foreign to him. "People… run."

Your chest tightened. You could see it now—the rejection, the fear, the scorn he must have faced. The way he flinched when you approached, the hesitance in his movements, the disbelief in his eyes at something as simple as kindness.

"I won’t run," you said firmly. "And I won’t hurt you."

His lips parted slightly, but he said nothing. Instead, he simply stared, as though trying to decide if he could believe you.

You let the silence stretch, giving him time. The sun had begun to rise higher, its light filtering weakly through the trees, casting soft golden hues against the snow. A gentle breeze rustled through the branches, dislodging flakes that drifted lazily to the ground.

Finally, the creature shifted, pulling the blanket more tightly around himself. He looked down at the remains of his meal, then back at you, and wrapped the blanket as much as he could fit over your form.

"Thank you," he said, the words hesitant, as if they did not quite fit in his mouth.

Your heart swelled as your head thumped against his shoulder. "You're welcome."

You stayed a while longer, talking in slow, careful exchanges. His voice was coarse, his vocabulary simple, but there was understanding between you. He asked about the food, the blanket, about the sky. He told you, in few words, that he had been cold for a very long time. That he had been alone.

You told him he wasn’t alone anymore.

And when you finally stood to leave, promising to return again, he did not watch you with suspicion or fear.

He watched you with something that almost looked like hope.

[symbiomycota-coll]

[kusnechik]

To the marvelous @crowthingexe who has gifted me a drawing of my Hyde, please accept this humble offering in return 🫶🏻

[jesterfairy]

I wrote this on my sideblog about Nosferatu, but honestly? I feel the exact same way about Joker and Alina’s relationship. It’s not supposed to be comfortable—it’s supposed to make you feel.

There’s something about a romance that doesn’t come easy. Something about love that survives despite the pain, the trauma, and the darkness the characters go through. A love that shouldn’t exist—but does anyway.

It’s primal. Intoxicating. Inescapable. That’s what makes dark romance and Gothic romance so utterly addictive. And before anyone says it—no, these things don’t work in real life. I know that better than anyone. As someone with a history of abuse, I’d never romanticize real-life toxicity. But in fiction? Somehow, it just works.

Fiction lets us explore the darkest, most forbidden corners of desire, obsession, and devotion in a way that only stories can. And that? That’s exactly why I write it. 🖤

People criticizing Nosferatu for 'romanticizing abuse' don’t seem to understand the essence of Gothic romance and literature. These stories aren't meant to make you feel comfortable or align with conventional morality. Gothic romance thrives in the tension between beauty and horror, weaving together the sublime and the grotesque to evoke emotions that are complex, raw, and hauntingly human. It’s not about endorsing behavior—it’s about exploring the darker corners of desire, fear, and the human condition. 🖤💀🪻

[diaryofaphilosopher]

"The shift from the Afro-Caribbean zombie to the U.S. zombie is clear: in Caribbean folklore, people are scared of becoming zombies, whereas in U.S. narratives people are scared of zombies. This shift is significant because it maps the movement from the zombie as victim (Caribbean) to the zombie as an aggressive and terrifying monster who consumes human flesh (U.S.). In Haitian folklore, for instance, zombies do not physically threaten people; rather, the threat comes from the voduon practice whereby the sorcerer (master) subjugates the individual by robbing the victim of free will, language and cognition. The zombie is enslaved."

— Justin D. Edwards, "Mapping Tropical Gothic in the Americas" in Tropical Gothic in Literature and Culture.

Follow Diary of a Philosopher for more quotes!

[pigeon-princess]

“There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand.”

I've had this vision in my mind for ages so I finally decided to take a stab at drawing a cover for one of my favourite novels⚡

[heartgoth90]

Fuck me. I just went fucking weak in the knees looking at this. Straight up swooning over here because of this artwork.

Carmilla and Laura!

After 6 years, I wanted to see how my style is changed with drawing them.

Also, I admit, I miss them quite a lot.

[can-of-w0rmz]

So, the Nosferatu movie was surprisingly good

[mysharona1987]

[panthermouthh]

“Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust?”

[heartgoth90]

It breaks my heart that there are foreign language publications of Carmilla I will never be able to get a copy of and that some of those editions have beautiful artwork to go with them that I will never get to see 😭

Carmilla ꉂ(ˊᗜˋ*)♡