i don’t think i’d know if i were [a monster]

Masterpost of Free Gothic Literature & Theory

Classics Vathek by William Beckford Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë The Woman in White  & The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins Carmilla by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu The Turn of the Screw by Henry James The Monk by Matthew Lewis The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux Melmoth the Wanderer by Charles Maturin The Vampyre; a Tale by John Polidori Collected Works of Edgar Allan Poe Confessions of an English Opium-Eater by Thomas De Quincey The Mysteries of Udolpho by Ann Radcliffe The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson Dracula by Bram Stoker The Castle of Otranto by Horace Walpole The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde Frankenstein; Or, The Modern Prometheus by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

Short Stories and Poems An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge by Ambrose Bierce Songs of Innocence & Songs of Experience by William Blake The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge The King in Yellow by Robert W. Chambers The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

Pre-Gothic Beowulf The Divine Comedy  by Dante Alighieri A Journal of the Plague Year by Daniel Defoe Faust by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus by Christopher Marlowe Paradise Lost by John Milton Macbeth by William Shakespeare Oedipus, King of Thebes by Sophocles The Duchess of Malfi by John Webster

Gothic-Adjacent Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen The Wendigo by Algernon Blackwood Jane Eyre & Villette by Charlotte Brontë Lyrical Ballads, With a Few Other Poems by Coleridge and Wordsworth The Mystery of Edwin Drood by Charles Dickens The Idiot & Demons (The Possessed) by Fyodor Dostoyevsky The Man in the Iron Mask by Alexandre Dumas Moby-Dick by Herman Melville The Island of Doctor Moreau by H. G. Wells

Historical Theory and Background The French Revolution of 1789 by John S. C. Abbott Shakespearean Tragedy: Lectures on Hamlet, Othello, King Lear, Macbeth by A. C. Bradley The Tale of Terror: A Study of the Gothic Romance by Edith Birkhead On Heroes, Hero-Worship, and the Heroic in History by Thomas Carlyle Demonology and Devil-Lore by Moncure Daniel Conway Ancient Pagan and Modern Christian Symbolism by Inman and Newton On Liberty by John Stuart Mill The Social Contract & Discourses by Jean-Jacques Rousseau Feminism in Greek Literature from Homer to Aristotle by Frederick Wright

an attempt at drawing almost every named character in the silmarillion (minus a bunch of Men characters bc i didnt have designs for them, as well as assorted minor elves like salgant or elenmire + the valar and most maiar cuz im still redesigning them) 😙

Above her brow her head was covered with a cap of silver lace netted with small gems, glittering white - J.R.R. Tolkien; The Fellowship of the Ring

Arwen and her silver cap

TINÚVIELLLLL!!!!!!

Sure, some weird things happen around Elrond as a child– the birds that seems to follow him, the way some injuries mysteriously resolve in his prescense, the unusual flowers that bloom outside his windows– but really, it's easy to see those as distant remnants of an ainuric power that Elrond clearly didn't inherit. When he comes to Gil-Galad's camp, it's much easier for them to see Tuor or Beren in him than it is to think he's descended from Melian.

But then time passes. The changes are slow enough– happening over decades or centuries– that no one really notices at first. Elrond's hair darkens until it is as black as the night sky– as black as Luthien's was. His eyes leach color until they are gray– not Noldor gray, mind, but a strange, starry gray that some of the Iathrim whisper about. His voice changes, almost seems to take on an echo of itself, sometimes.

The strange things that happen around him only get stranger– the trees bend to shelter him, during storms, and sometimes when he sings, the birds sing with him. Elrond got a cat, right at the start of the Second Age– a gift from Gil-Galad. Somehow, it never seems to grow old or die. The parts of Lindon Elrond most often visits always seem to be in full bloom, no matter what season it is. His healing abilities surpass what is to be expected of a man– an elf– eventually, of what seems possible at all.

At the end of the First Age, it would've been hard to believe Elrond had more than a trickle of ainur blood in him. By the beginning of the Third Age, many have started to whisper about Rivendell– a new Doriath, ruled by a Maiarin lord with all Melian's grace, and her eccentricities.

He sings beautifully, with a voice that sounds like no elf or man, and it reminds many of the Sindar of Luthien. It reminds some of the Noldor of someone else, another singer with raven-dark hair and starry gray eyes.

The braids he does his hair in– and he always keeps it braided at first, because letting it run loose is another thing that makes people whisper of Luthien– are in the traditional Noldor style. The survivors of Gondolin love that; Turgon always wore his hair in classical styles too. The other part of the House of Finwe that clung to traditional braids goes unmentioned. But everyone knows.

And he was clearly taught about court manners; taught to be gracious and charming, and a very good listener. The elf who could have taught Elrond those things is usually skipped over entirely, in favor of those reminiscing about Idril's graceful poise or Melian's endless patience.

He looks very much like Luthien, but there is a particular Finwean sharpness in his facial structure; something that makes him look a lot like Fingolfin, as well. Fingolfin looked very much like his father. And his older brother.

His smile is just like Earendil's (whose smile is just like Tuor's), and his strange, birdlike laugh is from Elwing. He fights and writes with his left hand– but then, so did Earendil, because while all elves are right-handed, not all humans or half-elves are. He eats no meat– just like Beren, they say, but the way Elrond tells it the choice had nothing to do with that history. There is ainuric power in him and something very human in the set of his shoulders. The flowers grow around any place he stays long enough. He gets sick in a way no elf, and certainly no maia, ever would. His accent is odd, and archaic, and changes noticeably when he's too tired to obscure it. His mannerisms are a mixture of about twelve people, almost all of whom are dead, and several of whom are not spoken of by the time he shows up in Gil-Galad's camp.

And the reflections of Elrond unsettle a lot of people; because one moment they see a fallen hero or loved one, and the next they see the person that took them. Or perhaps someone else, that they never knew at all. There is reverence and fear and uncertainty. It's messy.

It could just be because he is a shapeshifter and such details aren't important, as they aren't permanent, but I think Tolkien was a clever enough writer to have an additional purpose for it.

It allows the reader to picture Sauron as whatever is most fair to them.

“I suppose at one time in my life I might have had any number of stories, but now there is no other. This is the only story I will ever be able to tell.”

one of these is that dracula’s likeness cannot be captured in a painting , he always looks like someone else.

which only leads me to imagine a scenario in which the count lines many of his castle hallways with paintings of himself throughout the centuries but none of them look the same and none of them look like him but jonathan can’t help but notice they all somehow look eerily similar.

The family is compellingly written in their grief. The play covers only the day and the night before the death of their mother, as they cry, fight, and attempt to comfort each other. There is nothing glaringly inaccurate about the portrayal of bereavement—only a lingering sense of strangeness in the shock and desperation of it. Surely, a mortal audience might think, they were expecting this? Did they not discuss, for example, who would take care of the youngest child (the subject of a fight in the second act)? They seem surprised and devastated, like a family reeling from a sudden illness or a violent death, rather than the peaceful passing of their elderly parents.

In the final scene, the adult grandchild of the dead couple seems to realize that his mother will also die, and they share the final scene in the play. She comforts him, and the play ends with mother and son sitting together in silence—mirroring the first scene, a peaceful morning in the now dead parents bedroom.

Green leaves: Green leaves symbolize new beginnings, rebirth, love, hope, and resilience

Blueberries: I found an article about blueberries, and it was mentioned that in Native American folklore, they were believed to be a gift from the great spirit, who sent star berries to ease children's hunger during hard times - as a whole blueberry symbolizes wisdom, knowledge, and understanding

Quendi, Edhel = Elvers: First; Quenya - Second; Sindarin