#transylvania open

[nightwingsgirlfriend]

jay jay siwa

[tennis-out-of-context]

[izmaost]

More concept art for my upcoming game Birka, a game where you play as a hungarian shepherd in a medieval Hungary/Transylvania inpired world.

Support the develipment with commissions or just a donation on KOFI

[angietswing]

vampires girls ❤️

[dragon-fly34]

After Mushroom Kingdom and Koopa Kingdom, we have...

✨The boos and the ghosts✨

1 & 2) King Boo, Hellen Gravely.

King Boo is the king of the Boos and their shepherd, he really wants to help his kind.

Hellen Gravely is also a pastor, but she is one of the ghosts and also King Boo's assistant.

King boo and Hellen are a couple in this AU

EXTRA HEADCANONS:

-> There is a difference between being a shepherd of boos and of ghosts, King boo doesn't help the ghosts, that is until he starts dating Hellen, now two help both types of ghosts.

-> King Boo is a human being and also Boo at the same time, before he died he was a normal human, after he died he became Boo, he became a "lost soul" but King Brennus saved him, after the former king saved King Boo, he turned into a little Boo, Brennus raised him to be the new king.

Brennus raised King Boo as a son, but I think their relationship is like Granny and Slendrina, they are both piscopaths. Brennus didn't know anything about being a father, he was a little cold towards King boo, after a few years King boo became king and Brennus retired as king.

-> Hellen is a human, she was born as a ghost, her parents were ghosts, when she was born her mother abandoned her and her father. Her father raised her, a few years later he remarried her stepmother, at the time her parents were dating, Helen met her half-sisters, Brittany and Selena, soon she became a great older sister, a year later her last sister to Elena. During her growing up, her father, William Gravely, taught her various spells from several books. When she was a teenager, Helen had an accident, a magic ended up affecting her skin that made her look like the one that appeared in Luigi's mansion 3, she was desperate and went to school with a hood, but someone discovered it and took off her hood and everyone laughed. She cried a lot that day.

Her father discovered that makeup could save her face, he told his daughter "You have a beautiful face" but Hellen thought she was ugly, when she became an adult, she became a shepherdess of ghosts and opened her own hotel to help ghosts.

-> King boo and Hellen met after the events of Luigi's mansion dark moon, King boo ran away from E. Gadd's laboratory and got lost in the forest, Hellen found him and was enchanted because she was his fan, she offered King boo to stay in their hotel, they then came up with a plan to capture Luigi and his friends, in the events of Luigi's mansion 3, they had a romantic atmosphere, right after Luigi's mansion 3, they helped each other escape from E. Gadd's laboratory and then began to to fall in love.

3) Types of Boos

Boos are spirits that have lost souls, when they die they are lost in different places, if they are not protected or guided they are lost.

FUNFACTS:

-> Boos are great helpers, they know how to do different things!

-> It's normal for boos to fall in love with other boos, their sexuality is non-binary and they can be pansexual and polyamory.

-> Because they are lost, the Boos end up becoming shy and afraid of other beings. {This is based on Super Mario Bros 3 where when Mario entered the mansion, the Boos wanted to scare him and then the plumber turns to see them and they look shy and very cute}

-> The role of shepherds is to guide and help their species, when the species is guided by the shepherd, he can become helpers, King boo's duty is to guide them so they don't end up like "lost souls".

4) King Brennus boo/Big Boo

Meet the ancient king of boos, the king Brennus known as Big Boo.

In Yoshi's island, there was an antagonist called Big Boo, when I saw him I thought he was a king, so I had this idea for him.

The idea of ​​making Big Boo is that he is a Boo but he can turn into a big Boo or a small Boo like the others {This is based on Mario Wonder where when they defeat King Boo, he turns into a Boo}

HEADCANONS:

-> Brennus was king of the Boos, at the time that Bowser's parents got married, I can say that he has been king for many years, he was known as "Big Boo" due to the fact that he was taller than most of his species.

However, even though he was king, there was a problem. He needed a successor! It was difficult to find a decent one until one night everything changed...

-> One night Brennus was walking through the forest like he always did, then he found a soul, but it wasn't just any soul, it was King boo! Brennus ran to help the dead king, he was all bleeding and full of marks on his body, that's when he discovered something, King boo had become a "lost soul", Brennus made a room for King boo and went to sleep.

The next day, Brennus and Nurse Boo went to check on King Boo, but when they entered, there was no longer a King there, there was a child, that's when they discovered it was King Boo himself, he had become a half-Boo human.

-> Brennus then saw something different in Boo, he was different from the others, so he made decisions, adopted and decided that King Boo would be the next king, over the years Brennus raised King Boo as a son, but I can say that they have an equal relationship from Granny and Slendrina, taught how to be a shepherd and much more.

After King boo became an adult, he was crowned as the new king and Brennus retired as king, now they both live in the castle.

-------

And that it guys! Bye!

[rpking99]

Comedy Part 2

Disney (solo)

Elsa (Frozen)

Anna (Frozen)

Jasmine (Aladdin)

Mulan (Mulan)

Kida (Atlantis)

Nani Pelekai (Lilo & Stich)

Captain Amelia (Treasure Planet)

Mira Nova (Buzzlightyear of Star Command)

Malificent (Sleeping Beauty)

Gravity Falls

Mabel Pines

Mabel Gleeful

Patrifica Northwest

Wendy

Total Drama

Gwen

Hotel Transylvania

Mavis Dracula

Road To Eldarado

Chel

Fosters Home For Imaginary Friends

Frankie Foster

Who Framed Rogger Rabbit

Jessica Rabbit

Adams Family

Wednesday Adams

Total Muses: 20

[bloodmoon24]

Ok, hear me out

Murder Drones x Hotel Transylvania Cast (first movie)

Uzi Doorman as Mavis Dracula

Serial Designation N as Johnny

Khan Doorman as Drac

Serial Designation J as Eunice Stein

Thad as Frankenstein

*facepalms* That’s just it. Just five characters. If anyone has any ideas related to this, I’m all ears. The first three is obvious, and I just thought of the last two myself

[themultiverseheroines]

Open Halloween Fandom RP (to all fandoms)

Mavis Dracula had met your muse a few months ago after she went to a village where your muse lives instead of the one her dad told her to visit. She had begun spending time with them and agreed to join them for this Halloween celebration.

"Wait, wait, wait. So, humans dress up as monsters to go around and have some fun?" Mavis asked towards your muse while surprised with what she was told. "Wow. I never knew that. So, I guess no one will believe I'm a real vampire, huh?"

((Made by Aonoexorcist100))

[twinklecupcake]

The baby girl was made real.

[evermorehqs]

CATCHING MY BREATH, STARING OUT AN OPEN WINDOW

Dennis Cullen is based on Dennis from Hotel Transylvania 2. He is a 30 year old vampire/human hybrid, Superhero Headquarters employee, and uses he/him pronouns. He has the power of flight and transformation. Dennis is portrayed by Cameron Monaghan and he is taken.

CATCHING MY DEATH, AND I COULDN’T BE SURE

It wasn't an easy world to be half vampire in... or half human, for that matter. While his family accepted him for who he was, after the initial judgement, he always felt like he had to hide part of himself. When he was with his mom, he couldn't act too much like a monster, consume any blood. When he was with his dad, he had to keep his human quirks to himself, embarrassed over his lack of fangs. Despite feeling like he never truly fit anywhere, he was still a happy kid, optimistic and insouciant. He knew that there were people who would hunt and hate him for who he was, from both sides, and spent most of his time in trusted circles... which didn't turn out to be so trusted all the time, seeing as his grandfather's employee almost took him out. He didn't let that shake him up for too long, fortunately; he had a good head on his shoulders, and he knew a life in fear wasn't much of a life at all. For awhile after the incident, everything was smooth sailing — as smooth as it had ever been, anyway. Dennis wasn't sure what he wanted to do with his future, a looming thought he tried his best to ignore, but he could confidently say Evermore was never part of the plan. He was just grateful that he had Mavis and Winnie as he started to make roots in his new home. As positive and easygoing as he was, he didn't think he could do it alone. With his cousin and his best friend by his side, though, it wasn't so bad. He found a comic book shop that was eager to hire him, and he liked the calm nature of the town, the ways it differed from the hotel he spent most of his life in. And the best thing of all? He now had the ability to figure out who he was without being tied down to who everyone else wanted him to be.

I HAD A FEELING SO PECULIAR

❀ Timmy Turner: He works most of his shifts at Superhero Headquarters with Timmy, and he thinks he's a pretty cool guy. They mesh well, and he's debated asking him to hang out outside of work... would that be lame? ❀ Adora Winter: Adora is such a kind and level-headed person, the two of them clicked almost immediately and Dennis knows he can always rely on her to keep him grounded. ❀ Dylan Pickles: Dennis doesn't have any siblings, and he always wondered what that would be like. Dil already has an older brother, but he can't help but think they fit the role perfectly.

THAT THIS PAIN WOULD BE FOR EVERMORE

[taintandviolent]

that which terrifies ; Count Orlok x Reader

summary: You're a housemaid who is sent away by her employer to an estate nestled deep in the Carpathian mountains. On the first night, your dreams become very bizarre, and you are no longer so sure of your purpose at the Castle.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 3.7K | female reader, smut, period cunnilingus, vampire coercion, invasion of privacy, scent kink, technically dubious consent and somnophilia (cos Orlok likes to touch when reader is sleeping and it gets a little blurred there), blood mention, decay mention, monsters, vampires,, bloodplay, biting, drinking blood / blood loss, mentions of accents, shadow play (fingering), possession kink.

a/n: I feel like I should apologize in advance because this one feels weirder than my last one. again, you either get it you don't. nevertheless, I hope it is as good! thank you for reading if you do!!! MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR NOSFERATU 2024! banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / playlist here / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

With a sharp crack of a whip and a high-pitched whinny, you are alone.

It’s snowing when you arrive. You look back down the pathway, unable to see the carriage any longer; the flurries obscure your vision. The coach that brought you to the looming doors of the entrance is long gone, as is the safety of it. The only sound that can be heard amongst the deafening silence of snow is the fading squeak of hinges and the clip clop of the horses’ hooves as they return home, wherever that may be… far away from this dreadful castle. As you gaze skywards, looking up at the castle, you wrap your shawl around your frail shoulders, shuddering. There is something that roils in your stomach like a malady, twisting and turning your insides until they ache so. Foreboding…

You had been sent here by your employer, a ruthless man who lacked any empathy, only possessed an insatiable greed for fortune. He had requested that you be sent away, to tend to a man who resided deep in the Carpathian Mountains. He had a large estate – a castle in every sense of the word – and needed it maintained. Your darling mother fretted the entire night, feeling as though it was an unwise and dangerous proposition; a young, unmarried woman going into the dark and cursed woods of Transylvania, forced so under the pretenses of mere employment. Though, you had been promised riches. This man, Count Orlok, would reward you handsomely for your duties. Or so it was said. 

At first glance, the looming castle provides no welcome, nor does it beckon you inside. Though, the longer you stare, shivering in the snow like a lost child, the more inviting it becomes. As fearsome and ominous as it is, you know that within those stone walls, lies a comfort, a warmth of some kind. Another person to provide company. 

With footsteps crunching down into the snow, you approach the doors. Your fist raises to the doors, poised to knock as hard as you can to alert the occupant that you’ve arrived. As you do, your knuckles pounding against the wood but once, both the doors swing open slowly, revealing a grand, but barren, courtyard. White blankets everything, obscuring any foliage that might have greeted you.

“Hello?” Your voice is swallowed up by the snow. 

All at once, you hear scampering beside you, accompanied by a huff of breath from something and quickly pivot around, clutching your breast. When you turn back around, you’re met with a startling visual; a tall, intriguing silhouette, stands near another entryway. He’s stock still, the only movement is that of the furs that he wears, which blow delicately in the wind. After a moment, he turns, and disappears into another open door. 

“Sir! Please, I beg of thee, wait for me!” Gripping your satchel in one hand and holding your shawl shut with the other, you hurry behind him, praying to get out of the biting cold. He does not wait for you. 

Once inside, the castle provides little reprieve. It, too, is bitterly cold; the stone walls have absorbed the chill of the winter and seem to radiate out onto anyone who dares pass by, like long fingers, reaching out to pilfer any warmth that passes. 

The staircase is dark, staggeringly so. It curls around a column, trailing ever upwards. He is gone from your line of sight, until you climb the last step, and enter the main room. It is dark, save for a robust fire that consumes the left hand side of the room, drenching it in warmth. Dropping your belongings, you hurry over to it and quickly stretch your palms towards the glow, the heat licking at your frigid fingertips. 

Casting your glance over your shoulder, he stands near the table. You hum quietly to yourself, and turn back to the fire. 

“Count Orlok…” you start, your voice feeble. You stare at him now, desperately trying to discern his features. Though he is unmoving as he watches you, the shadows which dance across his face obscure him. You swallow.  “Pardon my –” 

“Thy lord…!” he bellows, startling you. Despite the volume, his voice was low, deeper than any man’s voice. It was almost a growl, carnal and demanding obedience. You dare not defy him, not when he sounds as such. You furrow your brow to the fire, looking deep into the flames to hide your shame.  

“My lord,” you started again. “I mean not to offend. I was only going to ask you to pardon my urgency in coming to the fire, I fear I may have caught my death had I been out in the storm any longer.” 

“You,” he booms, his voice seeming to vibrate the air around you. He gestures, extending his long fingers towards the table. “...are weak with hunger… eat.” 

You glance apprehensively at the expansive feast behind you; fruits, roasted meats, breads. It was enough to satisfy several men. “Are you not… not joining me, my lord? Surely, this is too great for my appetite.” 

“…I shall sate myself… later….” 

His response serves as nothing but confusion to you, for it is nightfall. Perhaps, you think, you are not accustomed to the habits of the area. You turn your attention back to the table; you are unable to deny the gnawing in your belly, and the enticing aroma of the food calls to your hunger, seducing you with promises of a full stomach, and a delightful, food-induced sleep. You get to your feet and approach one the chair, carefully setting yourself down upon it, smoothing out your petticoats as you do.

Wordlessly, you reach forward, plucking a single piece of fruit from the plate. Its glossy skin glistens underneath the flickering candlelight, and as you bring the succulent fruit to your mouth, its sweet nectar coats your tongue. You hum happily, and savor the taste, rolling it around on your tongue before gnashing it up with your teeth. Next, you reach for the fork that sits at the plate’s edge, and pierce the flesh of a morsel of meat. It’s tender; the prongs of the fork giving way, and the intoxicating aroma of herbs and spices fill your nose. 

Though the food is delicious, it does little to distract you from the fact that you’re being watched. The Count sits across from you, his presence an ominous shadow that threatens to swallow you whole. You chew once, twice, and raise your gaze to his. It’s dark and envelops you like an embrace, one you cannot deny. 

“My lord,” You say, swallowing the remainder of the meat. “Pray tell, who cooked this delicious meal? I was told that you resided here by thineself, hence your need for a ma–.” 

Before you can finish speaking, his words slice through the space between you. “No… more questions. Eat.” 

“I was only –” 

“Hush now. You are too weary to have such… conversations.” 

His words rang true; you were exhausted from the journey and the food was only increasing your fatigue. Now, with a full belly, you felt the first, soothing touches of sleep running its fingers through your tresses, beckoning you closer. You stifle a yawn, not wanting to appear rude in your present company. 

“I long to become familiar with you, my lord. I have many questions… but perhaps, I’ll rest…” You say as you wander over to the fire, longing for its warmth once more. You fold yourself to the floor, resting your arms and head on the seat of the ornate wooden chair that sits in front of it. “If only just for a moment.” 

With the crackle of the fire lulling you away, it isn’t long before the drowsiness takes you, your form drooping slightly in the chair as you nod off. It is not a restful sleep, however; it is a disturbed slumber, filled with bizarre dreams that feel like waking nightmares. 

Shadows claim your body and soul as you sleep, drifting farther and farther away from your consciousness. Slender, phantom fingers graze over your heartbeat, feeling it, tasting it with physical touch, and they graze the fullness of your breasts. Lingering touches chill every inch of your flesh; your neck, between your legs, and along the length of your arms. You dream of being intertwined eternally, though if asked, you couldn’t explain what that meant. Pain, braided with throngs of indescribable pleasure. 

You aren’t sure how long you sleep, but awake when the sun’s rays reach through a nearby window. You stretch your limbs as far as they’ll go, the muscles shaking with exertion. Then, unexpectedly, your palm flattens atop a cotton pillowcase, the tips of your toes feel sheets beneath them. A bed. The fire, you think. I fell asleep at the fire. He must’ve carried you to bed in the night – a thought that, while somewhat comforting in its thoughtfulness, concerns you. You remember not the feelings of him cradling you in his arms, carrying you to bed like a groom carrying his bride over the threshold. You remember not the feelings of being tucked in like a child, delicate and small. But you remember your dreams. 

Pleasures that capture your sleeping body, controlling it so that you thrash and turn on your bed. Long, slender fingers ghosting over your jawline, desperately twitching to pull your mouth into a bruising kiss. The overwhelming scent of Earth, the irony scent of blood, paired with a sickly scent that you can’t place. Stinging pains as the shadow in your room consumes you. Whispers of promises, of ownership, of eternities. Things that you cannot comprehend, but wish to agree to willingly.

Your eyes open fully, having now adjusted to the light. The realization dawns on you; your lewd dreams had been about your new employer, the mysterious man who had only insisted you eat. Knowing not what time it is, you quickly throw the covers from your form, and get to your feet. You’re still clothed, but the buttons on the front of you are peculiarly undone. Your fingers work fastidiously to redo them, before you cross the small room to the door. 

Hurrying down the stairs, you return to the once warm dining room, now flush with sunlight, but still freezing. The fire has burned itself out, and the table remains full of food. The meat has likely spoiled, but the fruit and bread… You eye them both hungrily. 

“My lord?” You call out into the emptiness as your heart pounds in your chest, a staccato rhythm against your ribcage. You wait… but nothing comes, no response, nor sound. Satisfied that you are alone, you rush to the table, hurriedly taking up a piece of bread and some of the fruit. You scarf it down in a very unladylike fashion, but no guilt taints your urgency; you’ll need energy to do your duties. 

As you chew, you decide to meander some, and still, fail to find the Count. Your exploration yields very little aside from the discovery that this castle looks all but abandoned in the daytime. At night, at least there is a fire in the hearth to tell stories of the living craving warmth, but during the day… It is nothing but emptiness. The castle itself is so vast, so decrepit, that you have a hard time navigating it without feeling like you’re running yourself in circles. Most everything looks the same, and frustratingly, most of the doors are locked, try as you may to enter them. How is one intended to clean if they do not have access? 

~

After several hours of cleaning to the best of your ability; sweeping up leaves and dusting away long abandoned cobwebs that hung in the recesses, you pause to wipe your brow, and in doing so, catch a glimpse of the setting sun. Like an overripe fruit, it hangs heavy atop the silhouette of the castle, and disappears, sinking into the horizon as you watch it. Has it been that long? Or had you originally slept much longer than you’d thought? 

Gradually, the castle is submerged in darkness. You hum to yourself, retrieving the rag from the floor and return to the main room. The visual before is laid out as it was the night prior and you are equally as perplexed. 

The fire roars once again, and the Count, with his tall, menacing silhouette, stands in front of it. As soon as your foot hits the last step, he turns, gripping his fur coat at the side. His fingers seem to go on forever, only lengthened by his sharp, pointed nails. You bring your hands to your lap, shifting nervously.

“You have been hard at work, I see…” 

“I… yes, my lord. Though, most of the rooms are locked. Might I have access –” 

“No.” He says lowly, curtly. There is an unsaid warning, discouraging any persistence.

“My lord…” You quiver, fighting against your own nerves. “Might I ask… what is my purpose here then? If not to clean thy castle… why for?”

He is suddenly beside you, his tall frame dwarfing yours. “You will… provide me… company.” 

Your heart squeezes within your chest, tight, as though his hand had reached through your skin and gripped it with all his might. The rag drops from your grasp, falling to the stone floor silently.

“I’m afraid I don’t… I don’t understand.” 

But you do. You understand that you were sent here under a falsehood, an arrangement disguised as employment. As you recollect, the terms in which you were sent away were very sudden, very demanding and very specific – he had requested a young unmarried woman. You thought it to avoid any incessant mail, perhaps, but realize, the reason is far more personal. 

“Fret not,” he says, his fingers reaching up to brush across the warmth of your cheek. They are cold to the touch, frigid even, and you shudder underneath the gesture. His dark eyes suddenly seem to widen, his nostrils flaring. As he inhales sharply, he dips closer to you, his claws reaching towards your clothed hips. 

All at once, his long arms wrap around you, seizing you, pulling you into a desperate, hunger-driven embrace. He tastes your flesh, licking from the nape of your neck to the hollow between your full breasts. It is not tender, nor is it heartfelt. It is insatiable, it is dark, yet… your supple frame melts into his grip, allowing him to support your wilting body in his grasp. 

You feel the edge of his nails gently caress your body, fingers wrapping around the flesh of your arm with their length. Your lids flutter as his mouth nears your ear, his labored breathing hissing into the tight space between the two of you.

Deep between your legs, an incessant want pools. It is hot, greedy, and coils in your stomach like a venomous serpent. Your lids grow heavy with need. Above you, Orlok nears ever closer, dipping down until the bridge of his nose presses into your sternum. He inhales deeply, as though inhaling your very essence. He makes a sound akin to the low, warning growl of a wolf, though it’s tinged with something far more satisfied.

“That which terrifies you….” his full-bodied voice snarls above you, consuming you. “....pleases you.” 

Your breath catches in your throat as you realize what he’s just done, what provoked such a bold claim from his lips. He had smelled your blossoming state, your throbbing arousal and inhaled deep into the confines of his very lungs. No man has ever done such a thing, and the thought leaves you reeling, shuddering in his grip. Because, you know… he is no man. 

“My lord,” you whisper. “I… I…” 

“Speak,” he urges, his voice thickened with lust, with hunger. You can feel his breath upon your breast, upon the exposed column of your neck. He nears closer. 

“I cannot! My words fail me, my lord… I know not what I speak of… what I feel deep within my chest.” 

He growls, considering that for a brief moment, before speaking again. “Your body speaks loud enough.”                                                                                                              

With your breath catching in your mouth, you quickly utter your next words. “I think I may retire… early this evening, my lord. I feel faint.” 

“If you are… unwell, it would be in your best interest to do so.” His words are strung together so laboriously, punctuated by wheezing breaths and his heavy accent. You swallow again, looking up into his unimaginably dark eyes. There is a hunger there, a flash of something that frightens, but moreso, arouses you, and you gasp, turning quickly on your heels, heading back up the nearby steps. “I bid thee goodnight!”  

You run down the corridors as though he is pursuing you. Hunting you. And as soon as you are in the safety of the room that he once carried you into, you shut the door, collapsing against the back of it. You pant, trying to make sense of what had just happened, but you cannot ignore the clawing lust that you feel.

You dress yourself in your nightgown, and quickly get into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin as though that is some ward, some protection from the shadows which plague you. As before, it is not long before the warmth carries you off to sleep, the comfort of the bed acting as a tranquilizer for your nerves.

The dreams come again, wrapping themselves around your body and cradling you in their enticing embrace. They are heavy, like the weight of a lover atop of you, and they ghost along your legs, trailing along the curve of your thigh. You whimper, taking fistfuls of the sheets.

“I beg of thee… please…” you murmur, sleepily. Still, it is a call, a beckoning, and the shadow in your dream heeds it. Immediately. 

You shift, kicking your legs and thrashing your head to the side, whimpering pitiably in your slumber. The sheets are cold and seem to cling to your thighs, bringing you no comfort and do not free themselves when you move your legs. There is a pressure, a pulling deep between your legs. You whine again, bucking your hips. Against something.

Your eyes snap open, your body jerking with unimaginable arousal. The first thing you see is the ceiling, decorated with shadows and uncertainty. The second thing is that your nightgown is pushed up to your waist, exposing your lower half to the chill of the room. The third, and perhaps the most startling, is that Count Orlok is nestled between your thighs, his lengthy fingers gripping your hips tightly, not fazed by the rocking of them as you feel, feel deeply, what he is doing. He pulls you closer, and you immediately feel his cool tongue as it laps at your center. He swallows loudly, wetly, and you immediately smell the harsh, irony scent of blood. As he gulps, you feel an ungodly pulling sensation, as though the essence is being drained from between your legs.

Realizing, you yelp and push your hips into the mattress, pulling his mouth from your cunt with a slick sound. His mouth chases you, but in the second in which the moonlight hits his angular face, you see that the lower half is coated in blood. You wince, and tighten your grip on the sheets. You had heard stories as a child of a mystical, monstrous creature… strigoi, nosferatu, vampyres… many names for one being you’d never thought you’d meet. And certainly not in this way. But you realize, as his mouth hovers over your core, his cool, wheezing breath washing over you, you do not want him to stop. The nerves, the anxiety, it had all been because his aura had captivated you, called out to you like a beacon in the storm. 

“Give thyself to me…”

You nod once, unable to hide your true nature. Your hand drifts to his bare, decaying shoulder, urging him back between your legs. Orlok’s tongue snakes out once again, delving deep into your entrance and lapping up the viscous fluid that leaks from it. You nestle back against the pillow, allowing yourself to feel everything, to drown in the sensations. It is unclean, monstrous but you cannot contain your cries, the lascivious sound echoing off the stone walls. Your hips continue bucking into his mouth, your hand gripping his aged flesh with all the power you have left.

He laps at your cunt, starved for the sanguine nectar mixed with your sweet arousal, and your body quivers and shudders with each pass of his tongue. You feel the sharp points of his fangs grazing your swollen clit, a teasing, dangerous feeling. You dig your nails into his cool flesh, pulling him closer still and you feel that serpent return, coiling around itself until it threatens to burst. 

“Pl-please… my lord…! I’m… I feel as though I might…!” But he does not relinquish his feasting, nor does he slow. 

Your body seizes up, muscles spasming as your back arches desperately, the fire of your orgasm reaches a peak, crashing over you like waves on a shore. Your hips buck violently up into his greedy, hungering mouth, crying out. 

Finally, as the pulsing subsides betwixt your thighs, he is above you, lowering himself down upon your breast. His lithe fingers spread apart the pieces of your nightgown, exposing your skin to his waiting mouth. A white, hot lance of pain erupts over your sternum as his teeth puncture the waiting flesh there, the ache sprawling its stinging tendrils down the length of your arms and to your fingertips.

You gasp, your pupils dilating. The feeling is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, and you know, unlike anything you’ll ever experience again – a feeling, a craving that only he can sate. The room is filled with your weakening moans and the slick, gulping sound of Orlok as he drinks from you. Your menstruations were not enough, and yet, neither was a singular orgasm. Your hips writhe with a desperate plea, though he is too far buried between your breasts. 

A dark cloudiness rings the edge of your vision. No… not sleep. Not now…. I beg of thee…

The world fades from your grasp, like water through thine fingers, the only sensation is that of your skin chilling, paling as he drinks your sweet, warm blood. 

“M-my lord…”

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

“Nosferatu” (2024) and the Female Gothic Genre, Paganism and the Occult

The Gothic novel genre is deeply connected with female authors like Ann Radcliffe, Mary Shelley, Brontë sisters, Mary Robinson, and Charlotte Dacre, because it allowed them to explore themes that were “off limits” to women at the time (19th century) especially sexuality and women’s place in a patriarchal society. Hence the “Gothic female” genre was created, as a way for female authors and readers to digest their mixed feelings about these topics. This is the world Robert Eggers transports his audience in “Nosferatu” (2024).

This film checks every box of the Gothic genre: claustrophobic atmosphere, environment of fear, the threat of the supernatural, ruined buildings (usually from the Medieval ages), dreamlike states, nocturnal landscapes, demonic possession, blend of “high culture” and “low culture” (folklore), superstitious rituals, melancolia, melodrama, decay, fate, the macabre, the intrusion of the past into the present, stories of persecution, imprisonment and murder as metaphors for social conflict.

Indeed, the audience can’t analyze this story through contemporary lenses or bias, because it’s suppose to be an immersive experience into the Gothic genre and the Victorian era. The terms “gothic” and “romantic” exist in their historical context; “gothic” as in the literature genre (gothic novel), and “romantic” as in the 19th century artist movement (Romanticism).

No, this is not a story about grooming nor abuse... it can be, but not in the way many are interpreting it. Folks also need to let go of previous adaptations and their meanings, because this is Robert Eggers take on this story. And, it’s everything a remake (or retelling) should be, because its not a rehash, it’s a new interpretation of a old story, “Dracula”.

Robert Eggers tells us that the themes of sex and death are at the core of his story, it’s a “demon lover story”, and it’s Count Orlok and Ellen psychosexual connection that makes his adaptation different from the rest.

Ellen is our female gothic protagonist, and, like similar characters of the genre, she’s a persecuted heroine fleeing some a villainous outside force, personified by Count Orlok, the archetypal Death. Metaphorically, she’s a young woman haunted by her own mortality, by Death itself. She also has a sense of Doom looming over her, the heavy hand of Fate; can we outrun our destiny? “Providence!” Herr Knock screams throughout the film; as in a supernatural force, commonly God, guiding humanity destiny.

Ellen is no typical young woman, though. As she tells Von Franz, she had occult powers since childhood, being able to perceive glimpses of the future and suffering premonitions (knowing the contents of her Christmas gifts and when her mother would die). Her father called her “his little changeling girl”, as in the European folklore of human children kidnapped by supernatural creatures (fairies, demons, etc.) and a substitute being left in their place. Herr Knock also compares Ellen with a “sylph”, when he informs Thomas he’s to travel to Transylvania. “Sylphs” are air spirits from 16th century Germanic folklore and alchemy, a sort of nymph connected to air element in hermetic literature; throughout the centuries they have been culturally associated with fairies, too. We have two characters in the story connecting Ellen with a fairy-like creature. Interestingly enough we, the audience, see her floating in the opening scene.

“You are not for the living. You are not for human kind”, Orlok tells her, and calls her “enchantress”. Von Franz also said Ellen could have been a priestess of Isis had she been born in pagan times. Isis is one of the major Egyptian deities, considered the goddess of magic and healing. She was also connected with the Dead and funeral rites, since she was the sister-wife of Osiris, ruler of the Underworld. Pagan priestesses also entered trancelike states as Ellen “hysterical seizures” or “epilepsies” when communicating with the spiritual world, which is what Von Franz, the occult and alchemist student, recognizes in her. Ellen is a supernatural force, too.

Eggers Orlok was a sorcerer in life, a practitioner of Black Magic. He was one of the Solomonari, wizards from Romanian folklore, believed to be students of the Devil, who learned to ride dragons, and control beasts and the weather. In Eastern European tradition, the Solomonari were believed to be recruited among common folk and disguise themselves as beggars, Orlok is a Romanian nobleman who sought to achieve immortality, to conquer Death. As the abbess tells Thomas, the Devil preserved Orlok’s soul that his corpse may walk again in blasphemy, as a vampire feeding off the blood of the living and spreading plague.

However: who was it who awoke Orlok in “Nosferatu”? The Devil or Ellen?

At the prologue, we see Ellen crying and begging for companionship. She prays for a guardian angel, a spirit of comfort, a spirit of any celestial sphere, anything, to hear her call and come to her. She’s summoning some occult force and inviting it into her life. Orlok answers her call. And why is she doing this? She feels lonely, isolated and misunderstood by those around her. As she tells Von Franz, she’s no longer her father’s “little girl” and he recoils from her touch, because she’s no longer a child. As she grows older and enters womanhood, she starts to feel ostracized and put aside by 19th century society who has rigid gender expectations of her.

According to Orlok, it was Ellen who awoke him: “O’er centuries, a loathsome beast I lay within the darkest pit… ‘til you did wake me, enchantress, and stirred me from my grave. You are my affliction.” Which Ellen later confirms to Thomas: “I have brought this evil upon us” because she sought companionship and tenderness. This is a belief Von Franz also shares: it’s Ellen who “wills it”, and she’s the one who unleashed this plague upon the world.

This is very fitting with the Gothic female novel, where the supernatural connects with female societal status of this time period, generally women’s discontent with patriarchal society, difficult and unsatisfying maternal position (in “Nosferatu” we see this with Anne’s character, where she equals being pregnant with being drained of her life force) and their role within society (fear of entrapment in the domestic sphere, their bodies, marriage, childbirth, etc.).

Eggers’ Orlok is a combination of several Romanian folklore creatures, associated with vampirism: strigoi, moroi (these two are the “classic” vampires) and zburător (a ghost-like creature, usually handsome, and only visible to young women, attacks at night, usually newly-wed ladies and does “indecent” things with them). The influence of this legend in Ellen and Orlok story is evident.

Ellen tries to summon a spiritual companion in her teenage years, most likely when she reached puberty and her sexuality was starting to awake. A demon who’s a personification of appetite, devourance, sex and death is the one who answers her calling. They end up in a sexual spiritual connection, as Ellen experiences her sexual awakening with him, as shown in the prologue and later confirmed how Orlok took her as his lover. She also reveals to Thomas it was “sweet” and she “had never known such bliss” at first, until it turned into torture (seizures and nightmares), when her father found her laying unclothed and called her a sinner and it’s implied she might have been institutionalized, as she tells Von Franz. This episode might be a metaphor for masturbation and the historical shame associated with it. Hence her connection with Orlok being her “melancholy” (depression) and her “shame”, symbolic for the sexual urges 19th century society forced women to repress.

Count Orlok is the archetypal Death; which culminates with the “Death and the Maiden” motif at the end. This was a very popular Art History archetype around the so-called “Plague years” (14th to 16th century) in Europe, and it’s often connected with other motifs like “Danse Macabre” and “Memento Mori”. It has several meanings depending on the author intent, usually a reminder of our mortality, but also a meditation on sex and death, as in the French “la petite mort” (“little death”), the post-orgasm sensation, sexual release potentially causing temporary loss of consciousness (fainting) or dizziness. In the Medieval Ages, physicians believed orgasms could lead to death because they drained the “life force” from the body. This was when the term ���petite mort” was created, and this belief persisted into the Renaissance and beyond. In “Nosferatu” this probably translates in the sexual pleasure that Orlok imprints on his victims as he drains their life force.

Ellen’s “hysterical seizures” miraculously stop once she meets and marries Thomas Hutter, our tragic romantic hero. This can also be a nod to Gothic Bildungsroman (“coming of age”) genre; where the female protagonists grow from adolescence to adulthood in the face of the impossibility of the supernatural, and come to the conclusion there’s a rational explanation. In Ellen’s case, it’s medical, as she’s diagnosed as a melancholic somnambulist hysteric (in another words, a depressive hyper-sexual sleepwalker).

At the beginning of the story, Ellen and Thomas are newly-weds fresh out of their honeymoon, which means sex (historically necessary to consummate marriages). With Thomas, Ellen is “free of her shame”, as she says so herself. Because, her sexuality is safely contained within marriage, as it’s socially acceptable. But Thomas dismisses her concerns about his well-being, and doesn’t believe her until he experiences the supernatural first-hand, having an homoerotic encounter with Orlok himself, which also causes him great shame. This is probably a Easter egg for Bram Stoker possible closet homosexuality and “Dracula” being a metaphor for that.

Thomas’ main concern, throughout the story, is to fit into the patriarchal ideal of his genre, as a provider for his wife, and he aspires to be like his long-time friend, Friedrich Harding, the “perfect patriarch” with the perfect religious and dutiful wife, Anna, and their precious children. The Hardings are the perfect Victorian family; they are everything society expects them to be. Friedrich even chastises Ellen for her nature, and it’s clear he resents her for what she represents: “otherness” and “deviance” to societal norms.

However, soon enough, Ellen’s seizures return, symbolizing Thomas cannot sexually satisfy her. She’s “too ardent” as Harding calls her. “More! More!” She begs Thomas when they have sex to scorn Orlok. Not only her sexuality is too strong, but Thomas also shares with Friedrich his desire to wait to have children with Ellen because he wants to gain financial stability first. This in a time period when contraceptives weren’t widely spread, meaning abstinence.

Symbolically, Ellen’s seizures can also be connected with her fear of childbirth. Her “epilepsies” return while she’s staying in the Harding household, where they are children and Anna is pregnant. Children is what is expected of Ellen next, after all. But it’s sexual pleasure that Ellen seeks, and this causes her great shame and torment, because 19th century women weren’t suppose to known “such things”. “Sin! Sin! Sin!” as Ellen’s father screamed at her when he found her naked.

Fear of entrapment represented as Ellen tries to rip off her corset and “free herself”: this happens during one of her Orlok induced seizures.

As Robert Eggers tells us, Orlok both disgusts and attracts Ellen, she loves and hates him at the same time. He’s repulsive, rotten, animalistic and lustful, both literally and metaphorically. His character design is meant to invoke contradictory feelings in the audience: overall he’s foul and monstrous, but he appears almost handsome in some shots. This is intentional. Not only he’s a personification of Death, but of Ellen’s repressed sexuality by 19th century society. He represents the monstrous and dangerous female sexuality the Victorian era sought to contain. He’s the transgression and taboo theme in this Gothic story, as well: necrophilia. Which is probably Eggers “gotcha” moment to “vampire lovers” everywhere, as he forces his audience to confront their own bias.

Ellen herself is a medicalized character, as we see her being institutionalized, drugged, bound to her bed, forced to wear a corset to bed, and used as a scientific experiment by physicians. She’s not in control of her own body, and has little agency over it, overall. We see her being contained, literally and metaphorically, too. This is probably meant to symbolize women as a whole in 19th century Western European societies. The “disability of being female” is one major theme in Gothic female novels, after all.

And if Ellen unleashed Orlok unto the world and he’s connected with her what does this mean for this story? The obvious interpretation of the ending it’s Ellen sacrificing herself to save Wisburg from Nosferatu’s curse, like every other adaptation. But this appears to be somewhat disconnected from the overall themes of this particular retelling. Here, it’s Ellen who unleashed the curse, and only her can put an end to it.

We see Ellen summoning Orlok in two occasions: at the beginning and at the end of this tale. At first, she did it unconsciously, she dabbled with the occult and wasn’t aware of what she was inviting into her life. However, does this indicate Ellen has some degree of control over him? Orlok himself says she’s “his affliction”, and they are bound to one another. She’s not only a seer, she’s compared with a priestess of a Goddess associated with funeral rites and with the ability of resurrection and looking after the Dead (Isis). We can almost interpret her as a necromancer.

Here, we can have a different interpretation of Orlok unleashing a plague upon the society who ostracizes Ellen for her nature. Symbolically, he’s her reckoning, her vengeance upon society norms and expectations of gender. He’s the “plague carrier” and brings a “blood plague” transmitted by rats (symbolic of the Black Plague; the medieval ages terrorizing the modern world of science and rationality) upon Wisburg, and the “good Christians” who contain and shame “Pagan” Ellen.

Orlok’s most notorious victims are the Hardings, the perfect patriarchal Christian family model Ellen can never fit into; the patriarch Friedrich, the pregnant Anna and the two children. This also fits the Gothic female genre of the supernatural menace as a metaphor for women’s status in 19th century society. Ellen doesn’t want to be married to a patriarch like Friedrich, she doesn’t express any desire to become pregnant nor have children of her own. Consequently, we see Orlok killing all of these archetypes in the narrative.

Interestingly enough he spares Thomas and saves him for last when he should be his first victim once he arrives at Wisburg, because he’s the husband. However, Thomas is a character Ellen loves and cherishes, as he somewhat accepts her nature and represents her chance at a “normal life”. He’s also determined to save her from Death/Orlok, but is unable to. Symbolically, Ellen chooses death over conforming to gender norms and expectations.

However, we can’t forget Ellen’s supernatural nature, nor her connection with Orlok. She weds Death at the end, she’s no longer terrified of him, and she fulfills their covenant, and her dream premonition of marrying Death: “standing before me, all in black… was… Death. But I was so happy, so very happy. We exchanged vows, we embraced, and when we turned round, everyone was dead. Father… and… everyone. The stench of their bodies was horrible. And - But I never been so happy as that moment… as I held hands with Death.”

A “covenant” is a pact, both a religious and a occultist practice. This is a “blood covenant”, as their flesh becomes one and he drinks from her. “Blood is the life” is a quotation from the Bible, where “blood covenants” are also mentioned, because a “blood covenant” has the power to either destroy or redeem. For instance, Christ’s sacrifice redeemed humanity according to Christians. “Redemption” as Von Franz says, because only Ellen, like Christ, can redeem the habitants of Wisburg. He uses the expression “with Jove’s holy light” before dawn redemption will come to them: “Jove” is Jupiter, the “King of the skies”, and its energy neutralizes Saturn’s, connected with “melancholy” (depression).

However, that’s not what’s happening here, because Orlok is a servant of the Devil, and a literally un-dead “warlock”. So, what is Ellen pledging herself to here, exactly? Her covenant with Orlok has nothing to do with God or Jupiter, for these are forces of good, when Orlok is a force of evil and darkness.

Ellen also fulfills her role as “priestess of Isis” at the end, as she guides the un-dead Orlok to his physical death; like Isis, she resurrected him, and is now taking him into the Underworld with her. Because, like Orlok also told her, she’s “not for the living”, that’s her fate, the destiny she accepts at the end; she’s meant for Death, as Isis for Osiris.

“Our covenant is fulfilled. Your oath re-pledged.” Orlok tells her. But what was Ellen’s oath? We have to look into the prologue scene “You shall be one with me ever-eternally. Do you swear it?” And in the ending “As our spirits are one, so shall be our flesh. You are mine.” They fulfill their pact both in the physical and the spiritual worlds, and both make the ultimate blood sacrifice, by physically dying for “self-renunciation” is essential for blood covenants.

And a deity is always summoned to bless such a pact… but who was blessing this one? Ellen and Orlok indeed, died in the physical world, but are joined in the spiritual world forever, as decreed by their covenant, so where did their spirits go?

They are also surrounded by lilacs, their signature flower throughout the narrative, which symbolizes first love, yes, but also renewal and rebirth. Orlok conquered Death and immortality once before, because the Devil kept his soul. Now that Ellen is joined with him in spirit, what does this mean for her, and for them both?

[see-arcane]

Annual reminder that despite all memes and adaptations to the contrary, Jonathan ‘If I die I hope Mina gets my diary as a goodbye :’c’ Harker acknowledged that something ominous was up as of DAY 2 in his little Transylvania travelogue. The only reason he wasn’t turning his ass around was, you know. Needing to Do This Incredibly Vital Assignment for His Brand New Job. If you put this boy in [PICK ANY HORROR MOVIE], he would be out of there two seconds after the opening credits

Halloween night in Haddonfield? My guy isn’t sticking around to meet Michael Myers and his killer kitchenware

Camp Crystal Lake is very lovely, he’s sure, the nice nubile college kids should send him and Mina a postcard while they’re hanging out at home

What’s that? There’s a haunted house with spirits chucking furniture around and you want to record it all for posterity? Neat, cool, awesome, write to him about it while he’s off in a restaurant somewhere talking up a chef and posting nice foodie reviews

This guy knows when horror story bullshit is happening even while being unaware of the fact that he is one of the main characters of Dracula.

He can smell what genre he’s in and does Not like it and would be out of there if he could, do not paint him as a one brain cell oblivious baby man

[another-chaotic-bisexual-vampire]

Bram "The GM" Stoker: Jack's lockpick roll was a success, so the bolt shoots back with a rusty clang, the hinges creak, and the heavy, oaken door opens wide. What do you do?

Arthur: Are there rats? I've got an anti-rat whistle! It's got a +9 against rats!!

Bram: You don't have darkvision, so... *rolls dice* ...you don't see any rats, per se.

Jonathan: Okay, then I want to do a spot hidden che--

Van Helsing: Too late! I've already walked in.

Jonathan: What?!

Jack: I guess I follow Van Helsing inside, but only after I mutter some pretentious prayer in Latin, then I go in.

Bram: Classic Jack. Well, since no one did a spot hidden check *rolls a big pile of dice*

Jonathan: *groaning*

Bram: *rolls even more dice* Now as the door shuts behind you and you all search through the decaying ruins, the pungent stench of mildew emanating from the wet stone walls, your dim lanterns barely pierce the thick curtain of darkness, you find only cobwebs and more shadows until... Jonathan, you can't get it out of your head that this feels like Transylvania all over again and maybe, just maybe, there's someone else here. Give me a sanity roll.

Jonathan: UGH! *rolling dice and sweating*

Quincey: Can I cast gun at the darkness?

[deadcryptiid]

"Pelle and Tompa together, that sure became chaos, especially at that time, remembers Metalion. They went into my parents' bedroom and sat and cut themselves in there. It looked all too terrible. We had to throw out everything that had blood on it. On that evening Pelle was completely, totally insane.

-We drank up the champagne of Metalion's mother, Dead and me, in his parents bed because they were not at home, says Tompa. And so we began to talk very intense. "Tonight we will travel to Transylvania, you and I Tompa," he said. Somewhere in the back of my mind however, I thought, "no we won't do that tonight." I remember that it ended up with me hiding myself in Metalions room, not that Pelle was aggressive towards me, but because he was so set on us going on this journey together because we were so close.

Pelle ran around with the knife and was so excited that Metalion and Oystein wrestled him down on the ground. Rene of the Norwegian band Cadaver took out handcuffs and fastened Pelle to a lamp in the street because he wouldnt calm down. The problem was that no one had keys to the handcuffs, so they had to take Pelle to a nearby police station to get help to cut them open."

[plusvanity]

What’s your take on Pelle wanting a romantic relationship irl? Do you think it’s something he would’ve wanted? Or was he afraid that he was too odd for someone to accept him? (I don’t know if that sounds harsh). Since you think that he was sensitive.

Btw I love your analysis girl 🫶

I'm not so sure about relationships, but I firmly believe that he wanted to connect to someone, somehow.

In terms of friendships, I think Øystein was the closest friend he had (at least during his time in Norway), but even so, Pelle didn't open up much for various reasons that include the environment in which he was at that time and most probably trust issues. Talking at some point with Old Mayhem, she described an 'invisible wall' between Pelle and his friends/ the world and I couldn't agree more. It feels like Pelle would've wanted this meaningful connection with someone, anyone, but unfortunately, he didn't manage to form it. I genuinely think this had a massive contribution to why he took his own life.

I don't know if he would've wanted a relationship because a relationship comes with a lot of stress and pressure for being in a commitment, attending someone else's needs, etc, but he definitely felt alone and forgotten in this world. After all, he wrote in his last lyrics 'No one will ever miss you'. He longed to be seen, to be given attention and importance. There are a lot of signs of emotional neglect in how he developed, but I will try to keep it short. I consider him as being in the autism spectrum and a relationship would most likely feel overwhelming, especially since he would lack experience, confidence, etc. But if I have to imagine him in a relationship, I can only imagine him being with someone patient and calm.

People with strong trauma responses, PTSD and those who suffer from personality disorders need a partner who is a bit more mentally equipped to manage stressful situations than your average Joe. To see improvement in Pelle's mental health, he would need a very patient and mature partner.

Love can heal a broken heart. I am one of those people who believe that no matter how broken you are, if you find someone to love you for who you are, someone who is willing to accept you with all of your inner demons, with the the good and the ugly, you can start to heal. Currently, I'm following this process myself. The human brain can be programmed and re-programmed. We are very adaptable to our environments and if we make our senses realize we're not in danger anymore, we can finally allow ourselves inner peace. This is why I believe that Pelle could've been saved.

Hypothetically speaking, Pelle would have a hard time adjusting to a relationship. He was quite rigid, stubborn and unwilling to change for others. To make a relationship work, you need to make some compromises. Another aspect that I want to point out is that Pelle had outbursts or 'episodes' of impulsive behavior when he was living. That would be a serious problem. Øystein (and Metalion, if I remember correctly) had to literally hold Pelle down when he suddenly wanted to 'go to Transylvania'. The question is: Would someone be able (and willing) to deal with this again and again? He would definitely need psychiatric treatment, but would he accept that? There are so many factors that would make dating Pelle a real challenge. I also believe that he was suffering some sort of perceptual delusion. I won't call it Cotard's syndrome since it is not recognized in the DSM and since we have very little information about it, but my honest opinion is that he might have had something more that just depression and I'm kind of pointing towards Major Depression with Psychotic Features. If you believe something else, that's fine. Everyone does their own research and reaches their own conclusions.

I do think he was sensitive and there would've been room in him to grow positive feelings towards someone, to form a meaningful connection and learn to trust again. In the end, it doesn't matter if he would've had a romantic partner or a best friend, he would've liked to form a bond with another soul, someone who understands him, respects him and is there to stay.

I imagine him as being very honest, capable of showing tenderness, being mindful, quiet, contemplative and trustworthy in a meaningful relationship.

Sorry for my late response, I had an awful weekend.