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The Psychology of Dangerous Incels: Unmasking the Toxic Mindset Behind Their Rage

In recent years, the term "incel" (involuntary celibate) has entered mainstream discussions, often associated with extreme frustration, entitlement, and, in some cases, violent behaviour. 

The term refers to individuals, usually men, who are unable to form sexual or romantic relationships and blame society, women, or other men for their perceived failures. But what happens when this frustration evolves into something more dangerous? 

How can we understand the mindset of incels who resort to violence, misogyny, and manipulation?

What Is an Incel?

At its core, an incel is someone who is involuntarily celibate, meaning they are unable to find romantic or sexual partners despite a desire to do so. While many incels initially express frustration or anger at their lack of relationships, the more dangerous ones develop a toxic worldview that can lead to harmful behaviours toward others. 

Dangerous incels often believe they are victims of an unfair system and hold deep resentment toward those they blame for their situation, most notably women. They may express these feelings through anger, online harassment, or even violence.

The danger of incels arises from the intersection of toxic entitlement and anger, two factors that drive them to extremes. In some cases, these individuals view themselves as "owed" romantic and sexual relationships, and when these desires are unmet, their frustration turns into rage. 

This combination of entitlement, resentment, and inability to cope with rejection can lead to aggressive, sometimes violent behaviour.

The Toxic Mindset of Dangerous Incels

One of the core features of dangerous incels is their deeply rooted belief in entitlement. They feel that they deserve romantic and sexual relationships, and when they are denied these, their sense of justice is violated. 

This sense of entitlement often manifests in two ways: a belief that women should be attracted to them based on superficial criteria (such as appearance or social status) and a refusal to accept rejection.

Dangerous incels may develop a skewed perception of women, viewing them not as individuals with their own agency, but as objects that owe them attention, affection, or sex. 

This objectification is further fueled by their belief that they are superior to others, often manifesting in a victim mentality that pits them against "alpha males" and the women they think have unfairly chosen these men.

At its worst, this mindset turns violent. Dangerous incels may direct their rage at women, other men, or society in general, and their anger can often escalate from verbal abuse to physical violence. 

Many dangerous incels use online communities as echo chambers, where their beliefs are reinforced by others who share their views. These communities often glorify rejection, rage, and violence, further entrenching the dangerous mindset of the incel.

The Connection Between Incels and Violent behaviour

The connection between dangerous incels and violent behaviour is not just about frustration but also about a desire for power. Many incels feel powerless in their personal lives, unable to change their situation or meet their desires. In their minds, violence or revenge can offer a sense of control, reasserting their dominance in a world that they believe has wronged them.

This mindset can be particularly dangerous because of its sense of justification. Dangerous incels do not see their actions as wrong. Instead, they view their violent behaviour as a form of retribution against the women, men, and society they feel have ignored or rejected them. 

The most extreme examples of incels—such as mass shootings or targeted attacks—often come from individuals who have reached the tipping point where their anger can no longer be contained.

Incels may justify their violence with an internal narrative of self-defense, arguing that society is the real enemy. They may see themselves as martyrs, victims of a corrupt system, rather than acknowledging their own toxic behaviours. This justification makes it harder to detect dangerous incels, as they often view their actions as righteous and necessary.

The Role of Online Communities in Amplifying Toxicity

The internet plays a crucial role in the radicalization of dangerous incels. Online forums and social media platforms provide a space where like-minded individuals can gather and reinforce each other's views. In these spaces, incels can freely vent their anger, find validation for their beliefs, and share strategies for coping with their perceived oppression. This sense of community amplifies their toxic mindset, making them feel less isolated and more empowered.

These online communities often have their own language and ideologies, creating an insular culture that further separates incels from the broader society. 

The echo chamber effect creates a feedback loop of resentment and anger, where the most extreme voices are amplified, and more moderate opinions are pushed to the fringes. This can lead to a sense of collective purpose, as incels feel that their cause is shared by others and that they are part of a larger movement.

Recognizing the Warning Signs of Dangerous Incels

Recognizing a dangerous incel is not always straightforward, as they may appear outwardly normal, blending into society while harboring deep-seated resentment and anger. However, there are several warning signs that can indicate someone is at risk of becoming violent:

Extreme Entitlement: Belief that women or society owe them attention, affection, or sex.

Misogynistic Views: A dehumanizing attitude toward women, often viewing them as objects.

Isolation: Withdrawal from social groups or relationships, often with a focus on online communities.

Inability to Cope with Rejection: Overreaction to romantic or sexual rejection, often coupled with anger or violence.

Fantasy of Revenge: A desire for retribution against those they feel have wronged them.

Glorification of Violence: Celebration of violent actions against women or men they view as their rivals.

How to Protect Yourself from Dangerous Incels

If you encounter someone who exhibits these traits, it is essential to set clear boundaries and distance yourself from them. In some cases, it may be necessary to involve law enforcement or a mental health professional to address the situation, especially if you feel unsafe.

Understanding the psychology of dangerous incels is critical to recognizing the signs early and protecting yourself from potential harm. 

These individuals are often fueled by a toxic combination of entitlement, rage, and a deep resentment of those they blame for their perceived failures. Their behaviour can escalate quickly, and intervention may be necessary to prevent violence.

Conclusion: The Dark Psychology of Dangerous Incels

Dangerous incels represent a deeply toxic and dangerous mindset that can lead to violent behaviour. Fuelled by entitlement, resentment, and a warped view of society, they are at risk of inflicting harm on others in pursuit of control and power. 

By recognizing the warning signs and understanding the underlying psychological dynamics, we can better protect ourselves from individuals who may pose a threat. While not all incels are violent, the dangerous ones carry the potential to harm others—mentally, emotionally, and physically—and should be treated with caution.

OCD Vampire

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Discover the dangerous psychology of incels. Explore the toxic mindset, entitlement, and violent tendencies that drive some incels to harmful behaviours. Learn how to recognize and protect yourself from dangerous incels.

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Explore the gothic, psychological side of Spectrophobia, the fear of mirrors and reflections. Delve into its connection to paraphilia, trauma, and the unconscious desires of the mind.

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How I Became a Vampire and a Vampirologist: A Gothic Journey from Porphyria to Romania

There are two things I have always been certain of: I was never meant for the daylight, and I was born to know the vampire.

While vampires in the True Blood sense don’t necessarily exist, vampirologists do, and I am proud to be both: a vampire in spirit and a vampirologist in title.

One is about who I am, and the other is about why I am. But how, you might ask, can someone be both the monster and the scholar? Let me take you to the shadows where this all began.

A Strange Child in the Shadows

I was never the child other parents wanted near theirs. I was the one whispering ghost stories at recess, the one drawing castles and coffins while others drew flowers and sunshine. My earliest fascinations were the things that hid in the dark: what went bump in the night, the cold hush of a graveyard, the skull half-buried in the woods.

I was raised on Goosebumps and Fear Street, and graduated early to Stephen King. I read Misery at eleven, but it was Salem's Lot that sank its fangs in and never let go. I was already pale, already red-haired, already too quiet. But when I saw the vampires in King's world, I didn't see monsters. I saw kin.

A Gothic Soul

Ballet and acting were my childhood disciplines, but even there, I gravitated toward the melancholy and macabre. While others dreamed of mansions, I dreamed of living in a converted church beside a graveyard. Not for the aesthetic alone, but because it felt right and familiar. Gothic wasn't a phase. It was home.

Even as a teenager, I didn’t dream of prom nights or wedding bells. I dreamed of my own gothic magazine and my own mortuary. Something about death felt intimate, unafraid, even protective. Maybe that's what vampires are to me: not predators, but guardians of darkness.

Born of Blood and Flame

My body never liked the sun. Red hair (more like dirty blonde mixed with red.) Ashen skin. Eyes that winced under even a cloudy sky. Five minutes in the sun and I looked like a boiled lobster. As a child, it was frustrating. As I grew older, it became something more.

After my grandfather passed away, the man who raised me alongside my grandmother, I unravelled. My OCD intensified and soon bloomed into more diagnoses. I tried yoga. Meditation. The world told me to relax, to breathe, to be calm.

But I wasn’t made to be calm. I was made to endure.

Medication helped, and then, ironically, the vampire became closer than ever. The chemistry in my body shifted, and with it came porphyria: the infamous vampire disease. It was mild, manageable, but real. Suddenly, the sun was no longer a nuisance. It was dangerous.

The Vampire Disease

Porphyria is often romanticized in pop culture, but the reality is haunting. The photosensitivity can cause burns, welts, and open wounds. For me, it meant bruising, scabbing, an extreme vitamin D deficiency, and an urgent need for constant protection.

Sunglasses, even at dusk. Umbrellas that block UV. Layers of clothing. And a complexion now so white it borders on translucent.

I jokingly say I’ll burst into flames if I step into the sun, but like most dark humour, there's truth underneath.

When the Fiction Becomes Flesh

It was around that time that I stopped fighting the idea. I started to ask: What if I'm not pretending? What if this isn't just a phase or an aesthetic?

That question evolved into an obsession, and that obsession ultimately led to a study. I needed to know everything. Not just about vampires in fiction, but in folklore, anthropology, psychology, and theology.

What began as a personal spiral became a professional calling.

Becoming a Vampirologist

In 2019, I became a certified vampirologist. It wasn't a gimmick. It was a declaration. I studied everything from the ancient vampire myths of Eastern Europe to the clinical conditions that inspired them. I dove into the medieval revenants, the Romanian strigoi, the Chinese jiangshi, the Indian vetala.

What I found was profound: in every culture, across every continent, there was a blood-drinking, death-haunting figure. And more importantly, they weren’t just monsters. They were reflections.

Vampires are us, amplified. They are our shame, our hunger, our fear of death, our wish never to die. They are about control, about otherness, about seduction, shame, and sanctuary.

And in every text I read, I saw pieces of myself.

My Vampire Self

Who am I, then? I am not Lestat. I am not Dracula. I am a little Mavis Dracula from Hotel Transylvania, full of childlike longing and misunderstood softness. But I’m also Pam from True Blood: unapologetic, snarky, dressed in my own style, and not here for anyone's nonsense.

Yes, those characters are romanticized. But strip the glitter, and what remains? Mavis seeks belonging and freedom. Pam demands respect and power. Both are deeply territorial. Neither of them easily trusts humans. Pam doesn’t even remember what it was like to be one.

That’s me. That’s the vampire in me.

Escaping the Tower

For years, I lived in a kind of exile. Trapped in my own "tower," whether by illness, mental health, or isolation. The world felt too bright, too loud, too cruel. I created my own kingdom in the shadows. Like Nadja, haha.

But now, I'm leaving the tower.

I am moving to Romania. A country whose forests and folklore pulse with the vampire's heartbeat. Not because I think I'll find Dracula. But because I think I'll find myself.

Romania is calling me not just as a vampirologist but as a vampire. As someone who has always lived on the margins, always felt different, and always searched for a home that feels as old and haunted as I do.

A Gothic Pilgrimage

This isn’t a fantasy. This is my life. My research. My identity. Being a vampire isn't about fangs or immortality. It’s about existing on the edge of things. It’s about seeing the world through a darker lens, about feeling time stretch differently when you’re awake at 3 a.m., about holding grief, rage, and love all at once.

And being a vampirologist? That’s just the mirror I hold up to it.

Ultimately, they aren’t separate things. One feeds the other.

I am both a vampire and a vampirologist.

And now, finally, I am free to be both.

Katarïna DuBroc is the editor of Gothic Bite Magazine and a certified vampirologist since 2019. She writes from the shadows about folklore, identity, and the strange beauty of the night.

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The Dark Origins of Sleeping Beauty: Cannibalism, Curses, and Gothic Horror in Fairy Tales

iry tales, as we know them today, are often softened, sanitized versions of their grim past. Before Disney transformed them into magical adventures for children, these stories were cautionary tales—dark warnings about the dangers of vanity, betrayal, and death.

Fairy tales often arrive in our lives as bedtime stories, wrapped in glittering enchantments and happy endings. But the origins of these tales are far from innocent. Before Disney gave us a spellbound princess awakened by true love’s kiss, Sleeping Beauty was a harrowing parable. One that was drenched in themes of sexual violence, cannibalism, and the grotesque misuse of power.

Just as Snow White's tale hides murder and necrophilia under a frosted sugar coating, Sleeping Beauty's story is another gothic lesson in vulnerability, control, and the fine line between magic and malevolence.

The Origins of Sleeping Beauty: The Maiden and the Monster

The earliest version of the tale appears in Sun, Moon, and Talia, written by Giambattista Basile in the 17th century, a piece so disturbing that it makes the Grimms’ version seem almost wholesome. 

In this Italian rendition, the beautiful Talia is not awakened by a kiss. She is raped by a king while still asleep, and later gives birth to twins while unconscious. One of the babies sucks the poisoned flax from her finger, waking her at last, not into a fairytale romance, but into trauma, confusion, and motherhood.

Later, the Brothers Grimm offered a more subdued version titled Briar Rose. Their 1812 retelling, while still dark, replaced outright violation with magical sleep, replacing rape with a kiss and softening the implications of power imbalance. Yet even the Grimms could not fully erase the unsettling themes inherent to the tale.

Perrault’s Sleeping Beauty: The Ogress, the Children, and the Forgotten Ending

While most people credit the Brothers Grimm for the story of Sleeping Beauty, it was Charles Perrault who first gave us the French literary version of La Belle au Bois Dormant in 1697. His tale straddled the line between Basile's grotesque realism and the Grimms’ sugar-spun fantasy. Perrault preserved the darker undertones: a princess fated to sleep for a century, a mysterious prince who awakens her, and a deeply gothic twist: the prince’s ogress mother, who plots to devour Aurora and her children.

This macabre subplot, often omitted from modern adaptations, is a classic gothic turn: a monstrous mother figure, cannibalism, deception, and a pit of vipers. It ties the story back to ancient fears of motherhood, bloodlines, and the consuming power of time.

The Curse: A Death Sentence for Beauty

In most versions, the story begins with a royal birth and a celebration interrupted by a neglected, vengeful fairy. The fairy curses the baby, often out of petty slight: a forgotten invitation, a perceived disrespect, and foretells that the princess will prick her finger on a spindle and die.

The "spindle" here is no arbitrary object. In folklore, spinning is tied to fate and femininity, often symbolizing the inescapable weaving of one’s destiny. To prick her finger on it is to bleed for her beauty, for her gender, for her symbolic purity.

Later softened into a sleep rather than death, the curse nonetheless retains its fatalistic edge. The girl is doomed from birth, her beauty both her blessing and her executioner.

The Sleeping Maiden: An Image of Passive Perfection

Sleeping Beauty: Aurora, Talia, Briar Rose, Églantine, represents a gothic ideal of femininity: silent, still, pure, and untouched. In many ways, she is a living corpse, a figure preserved in time, suspended between life and death. The image of a beautiful girl asleep in a tower for a hundred years is haunting not because of the magic, but because of the implications:

She is powerless. She is objectified. She is violated, either symbolically or literally, in nearly every version of the tale.

In the darker variants, men come to her tower not to rescue, but to claim. In Sun, Moon, and Talia, the king takes her body without consent. In other stories, she is married while asleep. These elements reveal the disturbing power dynamics underpinning many older fairy tales: where female bodies are property, and beauty is both armor and curse.

The Thirteenth Fairy: The Rejected Outcast as Gothic Catalyst

The villain of Sleeping Beauty, the wicked fairy or spiteful witch, is not inherently evil. She is an outsider, denied inclusion, and her curse is retaliation against a world that has dismissed her. She is a classic gothic figure: the Other, the shadow, the spurned woman turned monstrous.

Her curse is often seen as an overreaction, but viewed through a gothic lens, it is a scream for recognition, a violent assertion of power in a society that ignored her. Some scholars view her as a proto-feminist figure, twisted by rejection, yes, but also bold enough to challenge royalty.

She embodies the darker truth of the tale: that one’s fate can be shaped not by love, but by neglect and resentment.

The Castle: Fortress, Coffin, and Cathedral of Sleep

The castle where Aurora lies sleeping is a potent symbol. Encased in thorns and silence, it becomes a tomb, a fortress of forgotten time, and a metaphorical womb of death and rebirth. The world outside changes and decays while the girl remains perfectly preserved.

In gothic literature, castles are often places of madness, decay, and isolation. Here, the enchanted castle becomes a cathedral of suspended time. Nature reclaims the land, and only a “true” prince may cut through the briars. But what does that mean? That only royalty can “rescue” a woman from her fate? Or is the forest a symbol of untamed femininity: a wall of nature grown wild in defiance of time?

The “Kiss”: Love or Possession?

In the sanitized versions, a prince stumbles upon the sleeping maiden, kisses her, and she awakens. This is presented as romantic, a triumph of love. But strip away the gloss and what remains is disturbing:

A man kisses a woman who cannot consent. A man claims her before she awakens.

Even in the Grimm’s telling, where the kiss is less explicitly sexual, it remains a gothic metaphor for the male gaze, desire enacted upon a passive woman, the fantasy of love with no resistance. The motif has deeply influenced modern horror and gothic romance, where the sleeping or comatose woman is both desired and feared.

The Ogre Queen: Cannibalism and Court Intrigue

Charles Perrault’s La Belle au Bois Dormant adds a grotesque postscript rarely included in modern adaptations. After the princess and prince marry, his mother, the queen, turns out to be an ogress who craves human flesh. She demands to eat the children of Sleeping Beauty: Aurora’s own son and daughter, named “Dawn” and “Day.”

A cook spares the children, but the queen is eventually exposed and punished, thrown into a vat of vipers and toads. This cannibalistic subplot, largely forgotten in pop culture, is a striking echo of the Snow White queen’s hunger for her stepdaughter’s heart. It reminds us that the danger is not only male predators, but also monstrous maternal figures—twisted by jealousy, hunger, and ancient rage.

The Gothic Legacy of Sleeping Beauty: Themes and Reflections

Sleeping Beauty in Modern Culture: From Maleficent to Madness

While Disney’s Sleeping Beauty (1959) immortalized the aesthetic—pink gowns, fairies, spinning wheels—it omitted the raw fear at the heart of the story. Maleficent became a misunderstood villain in modern retellings, reclaiming some of the agency stripped from the original “evil fairy.”

Films like Maleficent (2014) complicate the original tale, reframing the kiss as maternal love and challenging the notion of male rescue. Meanwhile, gothic reinterpretations such as The Company of Wolves and Angela Carter’s The Bloody Chamber delve deep into the sexual violence and female awakening inherent in the original myths.

The Lasting Legacy of Sleeping Beauty

Sleeping Beauty is not a tale of romance. It is a cautionary fable about power, silence, and predation. Beneath the dreamy aesthetics lies a skeleton of horror—sleep as death, beauty as bait, love as ownership.

In the gothic tradition, this story endures because it speaks to the fear of being powerless, voiceless, and reduced to a symbol. But it also whispers of awakening—of emerging from darkness, of reclaiming agency after centuries of sleep.

Perhaps that is the most haunting aspect of all: Sleeping Beauty is not just about a girl waiting to be kissed. It is about the world that allowed her to fall asleep in the first place.

OCD Vampire

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Discover the gripping history of Cennétig mac Lorcáin, the ambitious Irish king whose legacy led to Brian Boru's rise as High King of Ireland. Explore medieval politics, family alliances, Viking warfare, and the brutal path to power in 10th-century Ireland.

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The Rise of Brian Boru: Cennétig mac Lorcáin and Medieval Ireland’s Royal Bloodline

When we think of the medieval period, our minds often go to Camelot: knights in shining armour, long gowns, grand feasts, and stories immortalized by movies and TV shows. But what about Ireland?

The Meaning of "Medieval"

"Medieval" is synonymous with the Middle Ages: a long and complex period in European history that stretches from the 5th century AD (around 476) to the 16th century AD (approximately 1500s). It’s a millennium that continues to inspire artists, writers, and dreamers of all kinds.

The Middle Ages are commonly bracketed between the fall of the Western Roman Empire and the dawn of the Renaissance, or more globally, the rise of the Ottoman Empire. It’s a time defined by transformation, fragmentation, and relentless ambition.

What About the Dark Ages?

The term “Dark Ages” is typically used to describe the early part of the medieval period in Western Europe, particularly from 476 to 800 CE, when there was no centralized Roman authority in the West.

This era saw the collapse of institutions and the frequent outbreak of warfare. It was a time of dramatic upheaval, with migrating peoples like the Huns, Goths, Vandals, Bulgars, Alans, Suebi, and Franks disrupting the old order.

Today, historians avoid using the term “Dark Ages,” as it unfairly paints entire civilizations with a brush of stagnation and barbarism. The phrase is now considered outdated, even offensive, because it diminishes the complexity and resilience of early medieval societies.

I, myself, use it in a more beautifully macabre sense, but that isn’t the official description of the term.

Ireland in the Middle Ages

Early medieval Ireland was divided into numerous kingdoms, each ruled by its own king, similar to Anglo-Saxon England.

Among the most significant figures was Cennétig mac Lorcáin of the Dál gCais (also known as the Dalcassians), who ruled the kingdom of Tuadhmhumhain—Gaelic for "North Munster," sometimes identified with the region around modern-day Limerick.

Limerick, at the time, was home to both Gaelic Irish and Norse settlers. The collapse of the unified Kingdom of Munster in the 12th century created tension between rival houses like the Ó Briain (O’Brien) and the Mac Cárthaigh (MacCarthy.)

But before that division, Cennétig laid the groundwork for what would become one of Ireland’s most powerful dynasties.

A Life of Fortunate Events

Cennétig’s father, Lorcáin mac Lachtna, ruled the Dál gCais and held the abbacy of Tuam Greine. His branch of the family belonged to the house of Uí Thairdhealbhach, distantly related to the Uí Bhloid, who were also prominent rulers of the region.

In 934 AD, following the death of Rebeachan mac Mothla, Lorcáin became the first of his house to rule over the Dál gCais. Cennétig succeeded him, and with ambition burning, set out to elevate his family to royal supremacy.

Cennétig’s primary wife was Beibhinn, daughter of King Urchadh mac Murchadh of Iar Connacht. Like most political marriages of the time, it was a strategic alliance.

Though he reportedly had several wives, Beibhinn is the only one mentioned by name in the sources.

Cennétig Versus Cellachán

As High King of the Dál gCais, Cennétig launched military campaigns well beyond his territory. He led raids along the River Shannon, reaching as far south as Athlone.

In the mid-10th century, he began a prolonged struggle against the ruling Munster dynasty, the Eóganachta. His goal?

To claim Munster’s throne. To fortify his political power, he arranged the marriage of his daughter, Órlaith, to the High King Donnchad Donn, forging an alliance between the Dál gCais and the Uí Néill against King Cellachán Caisil of Munster.

However, in 944, Cennétig lost two sons, Dub and Finn, in the Battle of Gort Rottacháin near Mag Dúin, a clear blow to his campaign.

Though some sources like An Leabhar Muimhneach (The Book of Munster) claim he won a battle at Saingleann (modern-day Singland, Limerick), the tide was clearly turning against him.

The Munster Struggles Continue

Cennétig was undeterred. In the 950s, he challenged High King Congalach Cnogba of Brega. The conflict again proved costly: his sons Donncuan and Echthighern perished in the fighting.

Congalach retaliated with the support of Leth Cuinn, the northern half of Ireland, and ravaged lands along the River Shannon, cutting into Cennétig’s territory. The skirmishes revealed the high stakes and high costs of kingship.

The Bloodline of a “High-ish” King

Cennétig is believed to have had twelve sons and one daughter. Of these, only five sons left behind historical legacies: Brian, Mathgamain, Donncuan, Echthighern, and Anlón. The other sons, Lachtna, Finn, Dub, Marcán, Flann, Conchobar, and an unnamed son, left little trace, often because they died young or without issue.

Órlaith, his only daughter, as far as the records show, was executed in 941 on the orders of her husband, High King Donnchad Donn, after being accused of adultery with her stepson Óengus. That Donnchad chose death over divorce shows Cennétig's political limits. He was not quite powerful enough to shield his daughter from royal wrath.

Yet, arranging that marriage in the first place shows just how far the Dál gCais had risen under Cennétig’s leadership.

The Death of Cennétig mac Lorcáin

Cennétig died in 951. According to the Chronicon Scotorum, he was merely a regional ruler—King of the Dál gCais. However, the Annals of Ulster acknowledge him as “rí Tuadmumu” (King of Thomond), and the Annals of Inisfallen refer to him as a contender for the kingship of Cashel with the title "rídamna Caisil."

His death is murky. Some sources suggest he was slain, though they don’t specify by whom. Both Cogad Gáedel re Gallaib ("The War of the Irish with the Foreigners") and the Book of Leinster mention his death as violent, possibly involving the Vikings of Limerick, who were a frequent threat to Irish rulers at the time.

Brian Boru Rises

After Cennétig’s death, his son Lachtna succeeded him, but he was murdered in 953 by the Uí Chearnaigh and Uí Floinn. His brother Mathgamain took the throne next, ruling until his own death in 976.

The last and most legendary of Cennétig’s sons, Brian Boru, then rose to power. He not only ruled the Dál gCais but ultimately overthrew the Eóganachta to become the High King of Ireland in 1002, a feat his father had only dreamed of.

Marcán and Inis Cealtra, sons of Queen Beibhinn, remained loyal to Brian and are recorded as being close to him even at his death at the Battle of Clontarf in 1014.

A Historical Conclusion

The medieval past can be a labyrinth. Distinguishing between myth, bias, and fact is tricky. Yet, the motivations of people like Cennétig mac Lorcáin still resonate. He wanted power, for himself, for his sons, and for his kingdom. He forged alliances, arranged marriages, and led armies. He gambled with the lives of his children. He didn't achieve the crown of Ireland, but he laid the path for Brian Boru to claim it.

We may look at history through a different lens today, but human nature hasn’t changed much. The hunger for power, legacy, and greatness still drives people, whether they wear crowns or business suits.

OCD Vampire

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Discover the twisted origins of Sleeping Beauty—from necrophilia to cannibalism—in a gothic fairy tale darker than Disney ever dared to tell.

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A gothic mental health memoir of survival, psychosis, and starting over in Romania. Diagnosed with OCD and psychosis, I was hospitalized, haunted by a faceless man, and held together only by my dog and a dream. This raw, gothic diary entry reveals how I broke free from a lifetime of isolation to beg

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🌒 Rapunzel Is Escaping the Asylum: A Gothic Diary of Madness, Myth, and My Journey To Romania

When my mind shattered, it didn’t sound like breaking glass. It was quieter, more intimate—like a page ripping in half beneath my rib cage. And from that rip, something inside me shifted. A truth. 

I wasn’t The Little Mermaid anymore, longing for rescue and fading into foam. I was Merida with a bloodstained bow, carving a path of fate through a forest of thorns. My fate...is a gothic one. A blood-red fairytale, written in ink, shadow, and bone.

Through the Looking Glass: Where Madness Met Me First

The descent into psychosis wasn’t sudden—it was a slow, creeping erosion. A whisper here. A flicker there. Until I could no longer tell what was real and what wasn’t. The faceless man stood behind me, always. 

I heard voices that spoke only to me. My ESA dog, Ragnar, an all-white Alaskan Malamute, was the only anchor to reality I had left. His eyes were the last lighthouse before I drowned.

I didn’t want to go to the hospital. I didn’t want the paper my doctor handed my mother, instructing the ER staff to fast-track me into psychiatric care. I didn’t want any of it. But I saw the fear in my mother’s face—real, raw, unmistakable—and I said yes. I said yes to surviving.

Admitted: Not To a Fairy Tale Tower, But a Hospital Bed Like In Return To Oz

It took almost nine hours before I was allowed to lie down. I didn’t even realize I was in the emergency wing’s psych holding area until I heard the quiet shuffles of others in a mental crisis nearby. 

I thought I was in some padded fairytale asylum. I was wrong. No princess tower here. Just antiseptic lights, pastel curtains, and the long wait for a room at the psychiatric hospital.

But I was a “risk.” High priority. Not because I was violent—because I was broken. The only threat I posed was to myself. The real danger was losing Ragnar…and myself.

I stayed there for seven days. A week of swallowing pills, of pacing the floor, of looking over my shoulder. A week of visits from my mother—yes, she came every single day—and the realization that maybe I wasn’t as unloved as I believed.

Fairy Tales Are Built on Trauma: Mine Was, Too

On one of those sterile, fluorescent days, I turned to my mother and told her the truth: “I’m moving to Romania. To Târgoviște. With Luna. I can’t be here anymore. I’ve been Rapunzel for twenty years, waiting to be saved, waiting for a prince who never came. I’m letting down my hair, and I’m climbing down the tower myself.”

She didn’t question me. She just asked, “When?” I said a year. 

She said, “No. You need to go in November.”

That’s when everything began to change.

Enter Samuel or "Charming" — The Faceless Man Gets a Name

Not long after, I met someone on a language app—a young man from Romania. Samuel was charming, kind, and curious. He had that unmistakable Eastern European accent that made my stomach flutter. 

We talked for hours. I told him I was hospitalized. That I was going through hell. And instead of running, he stayed.

Samuel gave me something I hadn’t felt in years: hope.

Of course, things weren’t perfect. He discovered pieces of my complicated past: stalkers, betrayals, trauma. And he flinched. But eventually, he understood. We rebuilt. We kept talking. Kept laughing. And the darkness around me began to shift.

A Room of My Own...in Arkham Asylum

Eventually, I was transferred to the psychiatric hospital. At first, I feared having a roommate, but I didn’t. By the next day, I had a room to myself. Stark, lonely, eerily quiet. But it was mine. 409 was the number of my room.

Inside that place—with its locked windows and heavy door—I began to unravel and re-thread my mind. I met with social workers, psychiatric nurses, and eventually, a psychiatrist who would give me the diagnosis I needed, not the one I wanted.

She explained my symptoms. Confirmed the psychosis. She couldn’t fully diagnose schizoaffective disorder yet, but there were signs. I was also dealing with severe OCD and agoraphobia that had escalated into full isolation. But she gave me compassion, not judgment. And in that moment, I felt seen. For the first time in years.

The Familiar at My Feet, The Fire in My Chest

The whole time, Ragnar waited. Luna, my friend, checked in daily. Samuel stayed on the line with me at night. My circle was small, but it was sacred.

Back home now, the battle isn’t over. The faceless man still flickers at the edges of my vision. The agoraphobia still keeps me inside. Ragnar still waits by the door, missing our walks. But the difference is: there’s a plan.

My mother said, “You’re not staying here another winter. Sell everything. You’re going to Romania. Forget about November. You’re going in September.”

The Diagnosis is Real, But So is My Gothic Fairytale

I live with OCD. Psychosis. Paranoia. Anxiety. Agoraphobia. PTSD. I’m not ashamed. I refuse to be. Because this isn’t the end. This is just the beginning. The end of a life locked in a tower. And the start of a new chapter in Romania—haunted castles, shadowy folklore, vampire bloodlines and all.

I’ll be with Luna. With Ragnar. With Samuel. With my voice and my stories and my gothic dreams.

This is my fairytale. And it starts now.

OCD Vampire

If you’ve ever felt trapped, unseen, or shattered—this journal is for you. I’m documenting every haunted step toward Romania, through diary entries, raw mental health revelations, and the gothic love story you won’t believe is real.

📖 Follow my journey: [Kickstarter / Substack / Patreon / Medium] 🐺 Featuring Ragnar, my ghost-white familiar 🦇 Featuring Samuel, who may be more than Charming... 📍From hospital bed to haunted castle. 💔 From madness… to myth.

[ocdvampire]

What is somnophilia? Explore the psychology of the sleep fetish known as “Sleeping Beauty Syndrome” in this gothic, trauma-informed deep dive.

[ocdvampire]

Somnophilia: The Sleep Fetish Psychology Behind “Sleeping Beauty Syndrome”

A gothic exploration of paraphilia, trauma, and unconscious desire.

What Is Somnophilia?

What is the somnophilia paraphilia? Explore the psychology of the sleep fetish known as “Sleeping Beauty Syndrome” in this gothic, trauma-informed deep dive.

“Do not awaken her,” they whispered. But what if the allure lies not in the waking…but in the waiting?

In the velvet hush of night, when the world exhales and stillness reigns, some hearts stir with forbidden fire. Somnophilia, also called “Sleeping Beauty Syndrome,”is one of psychology’s darkest, least-discussed paraphilias. To some, it's a dangerous deviation. To others, a misunderstood obsession.

And in the gothic world, it becomes myth, metaphor, and mirror.

What is Somnophilia?

Somnophilia is a rare paraphilic disorder in which an individual becomes sexually aroused by someone who is asleep, unconscious, or otherwise unresponsive. The term was first introduced by Dr. John Money, a controversial psychologist known for his work on sexual behavior and identity.

Unlike many fetishes, somnophilia touches on the edge of non-consent, an extremely sensitive and ethically fraught area. And yet, the lines between fantasy and pathology are rarely black and white.

Fairy Tales or Fetishes?

Pop culture has romanticized unconscious femininity for centuries. Consider Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, even The Little Mermaid: characters rendered powerless, voiceless, often saved, or claimed, by a man who acts without their awareness. These are not just stories; they are cultural imprints of somnophilic fantasy.

In many cases, people with somnophilic fantasies are not predators. They are obsessives. They are fantasists. They are often individuals with OCD, PTSD, or attachment disorders, where the idea of passive intimacy offers a sense of control and safety.

The Psychology Behind the Sleep Fetish

For some, somnophilia represents a desire for dominance. For others, it's about proximity without fear—a closeness unmarred by expectation or rejection.

Psychologically, somnophilia is sometimes linked to:

These aren’t excuses—they’re explanations. And the more we understand, the more we can draw boundaries between ethical roleplay and harmful behavior.

Is Somnophilia Always Non-Consensual?

No. In fact, many individuals explore somnophilia consensually in BDSM and kink communities. Pre-negotiated “sleep play” scenes, hypnotic roleplay, and agreed-upon boundaries are part of safe, sane, and consensual kink practices.

Fantasy does not equal intention. But acting without consent? That’s the hard line, always.

Gothic Monsters, Mental Health & the Forbidden Mind

As someone with OCD and taboo thought patterns, I know what it feels like to be haunted by desires that feel monstrous, terrifying, or socially repulsive. That’s why I use gothic storytelling to unearth the beauty and rot beneath our masks.

Somnophilia is not about love—it’s about control, silence, the terror of rejection, and the ache to be near someone without ever being known. It is the prince who kisses the corpse and calls it affection.

But isn’t that the heart of many paraphilias? The need to rewrite pain as passion?

🔐 Read the Uncensored, Clinical Version

In the premium version of this article: available to my Patreon, Substack, and Kickstarter members, I dive into:

🗝️ Join me inside the castle. The full descent awaits only the brave. I have this paraphilia, do you want to understand it from a vampire's point of view?

Available on [Patreon], [Substack], or [Kickstarter].

Because monsters deserve nuance—not exile. OCD Vampire

[ocdvampire]

I am a Vampire Tarot Reader, moving from Québec, Canada to Romania. Help me make my dream come true! Readings starts at $5.00. DM me!

[ocdvampire]

What is vampirology? Explore the science, folklore, psychology, and history of vampires with a certified vampirologist who lives like a modern-day child of the night.

[ocdvampire]

From Rapunzel’s Tower to Romania: My Life as a Certified Vampirologist

So, What Is Vampirology?

What is vampirology? Explore the science, folklore, psychology, and history of vampires with a certified vampirologist who lives like a modern-day child of the night.

A Child of the Night: Where It All Began

Before I was a vampirologist, before I was an author, even before I was diagnosed with OCD and porphyria, I was a girl haunted by the night.

Other children feared the dark. I lived for it.

While other kids were dreaming of fairies or princesses, I was sketching fangs, reading Dracula, and wondering what lurked in the shadows. The grotesque never frightened me: it fascinated me. Death wasn’t something I feared, it was a mystery I longed to understand. I wasn't obsessed with dying. I was obsessed with what came next.

By the time I was old enough to read folklore on my own, I realized something striking: every culture on Earth has its own vampire. A blood drinker, a shadow stalker, a creature that haunts the boundary between life and death. They may not always be called vampires, but the essence is always there.

That obsession never left. It led me to my studies, my certification, and eventually, to becoming a professional vampirologist.

What Is Vampirology, Really?

Vampirology, at its core, is the interdisciplinary study of the vampire archetype, not just as a creature of folklore, but as a cultural, psychological, biological, and mythopoetic phenomenon. It encompasses both the academic and the arcane, the empirical and the esoteric.

This field extends far beyond the cliché of wearing black velvet and quoting Dracula (though I do both, without apology). Vampirology seeks to understand why the vampire, in all its myriad forms, has persisted through millennia as a symbol of death, desire, disease, transgression, and transcendence.

It is a discipline that dances between worlds: the living and the dead, the scientific and the supernatural, the historical and the fictional.

History & Anthropology

Vampirology begins with human history, tracing the vampiric archetype from its earliest incarnations in ancient Mesopotamian demonology (such as Lilitu or Lamashtu) to the shadowy revenants of medieval Europe. The vampire is not confined to Eastern Europe, nor to the Gothic Victorian imagination. Civilizations as distant as the Aztecs, Chinese, Indians, and Aboriginal Australians all hold accounts of creatures who feed on vital essence, whether blood, breath, or spirit.

Anthropologically, the vampire serves as a repository of collective fear: of plague, of death, of the outsider. Its rituals: staking, burning, beheading, reflect our historic desperation to make sense of unexplained death, decomposition, and disease.

Folklore & Mythology

Every culture has its own vampire.

From the Asanbosam of the Ashanti people with its iron teeth, to the Strigoi and Moroi of Romanian myth, to the Pontianak of Malaysian folklore: vampirology analyzes how these creatures function within oral traditions and spiritual belief systems. The vampire is always lurking at the fringes of the known world, reinforcing social taboos and moral boundaries.

It is also a creature that evolves: with each century, it reflects the fears and fantasies of the era. Vampirology tracks this metamorphosis and places it in mythopoeic context.

Psychology & Sociology

The vampire is not just a monster: it is an archetype. A psychological symbol. A cipher.

Freud might have called the vampire an expression of the repressed id, erotic, violent, insatiable. Jung would frame it as the Shadow Self, the parts of our psyche we are too afraid to name but too enticed to ignore.

Sociologically, vampirism has become a subculture and identity. Lifestyle vampires, psychic feeders, and sanguinarians exist across the globe, with organized communities and deeply personal beliefs. As a vampirologist, I approach these groups with empathy and curiosity: not judgment.

We ask: Why do people see themselves in the vampire? And what does that say about the world they inhabit?

Cryptozoology & Paranormal Studies

There is also the cryptozoological angle — where vampirology intersects with the study of hidden species and anomalous biology.

Here, we examine whether “vampiric traits” could emerge in real organisms: creatures with extreme light sensitivity, predatory behaviour, hyper-developed jaw strength, or iron-dependent biology. Is it so far-fetched to believe that evolution might produce a predator that mimics the vampire of legend?

Paranormal vampirology investigates reports of hauntings, energetic feedings, and alleged encounters with vampiric entities, not to prove or disprove them, but to understand their symbolic and experiential significance.

Literature & Pop Culture

Vampirology is also a literary study. From Sheridan Le Fanu’s Carmilla to Bram Stoker’s Dracula, from Anne Rice’s Lestat to Charlaine Harris’ Bill Compton, every vampire in literature reflects the anxieties and aesthetics of their time.

We study the semiotics of fangs: how the vampire has evolved from grotesque Nosferatu to brooding anti-hero. We interrogate gender, sexuality, race, colonialism, addiction, queerness, all through the lens of vampiric representation.

The vampire has starred in opera, comics, cinema, anime, and ballet. It is a pop culture juggernaut and a gothic literary fixture. Understanding it requires both academic discipline and fan devotion.

Medical Phenomena & Anomalies

Lastly, vampirology touches the realm of medical anomalies that may have inspired, or still resemble, vampire-like symptoms:

Even genetic mutations or metabolic disorders that alter behaviour, appearance, or sleep-wake cycles can offer clues to the vampire archetype’s biological plausibility.

To study vampires is to study humanity’s deepest fears and darkest fascinations. It’s to hold a mirror up to civilization, and to ourselves, and ask what truly lurks in the shadows we cast.

This is what vampirology is. Not fantasy. Not frivolity.

But a serious, sacred pursuit of understanding the immortal metaphor that has haunted us since the first whisper of night.

The Academic Side: From Ancient Lore to Modern Science

My certification came in 2019, but my education spans a lifetime.

I’ve studied the vampire’s presence from Mesopotamian demons to Filipino aswangs, from the Slavic upir to the Greek vrykolakas. Every continent has a version of the vampire. Every ancient tribe has a shadow that fed on the living. 

And the term "vampire" itself may come from a French phrase meaning “forceful bite.” 

Strange, isn’t it, that the word came so late, but the being existed since the dawn of human fear?

As a vampirologist, I also study the biological theories behind vampiric traits:

If vampires did exist, they might not sparkle. They might resemble something more primal. More animalistic. Think 30 Days of Night, not Twilight. Something built to hunt.

Psychology of the Vampire: From Archetypes to Identity

Vampirology also examines the psychological impact of vampire mythos on human behavior. Why are we so drawn to these creatures? Why do some of us relate to them more than we relate to humanity?

The vampire is:

We study how these archetypes appear in media (Dracula, Carmilla, Interview with the Vampire, Dead As A Doornail) and how they influence people who identify as real vampires—whether sanguine, psychic, or lifestyle-based. I do not judge them. That’s not my job. My job is to understand.

Personally? I relate. I have mild porphyria, photosensitivity, and extreme territoriality. I live by night. I sleep during the day. I’ve always said I feel more vampire than human—and I mean that in every way that counts.

Vampires in Pop Culture and Entertainment

My work isn’t locked away in dusty tomes. I’ve been hired as a consultant for creative projects, and interviewed on podcasts to explore vampires in horror, literature, and media. Vampirology touches every corner of our cultural consciousness.

I explore:

Vampires are storytellers in fangs. They evolve with our fears. When we feared disease, they were plague-bearers. When we feared sexuality, they were seducers. When we feared aging, they became eternally young.

From Tower to Transylvania: Why Romania?

Now I’m leaving my “tower”—a metaphor for both mental illness and isolation. Like a gothic Rapunzel, I’ve cut my own hair and stepped out into the unknown.

I’m moving to Romania, the so-called “Land of Dracula.” Not because I believe it’s haunted by blood-drinking nobles, but because its folklore is among the richest on Earth. It’s the birthplace of legends that defined my life.

But more than that—it’s my next chapter. A place where I can live as I am. A place steeped in the very mystery I’ve studied since childhood.

I won’t pretend Romania is just vampires. It’s ancient mountains, medieval villages, fierce pride, and stunning beauty. But for someone like me, it’s more than geography. It’s home to something deeper. A myth I was born to chase.

Vampires in Real Life: Myth or Mutation?

Are vampires real?

Here’s the truth: not the way fiction says. But also—not entirely false.

Science shows us that traits commonly associated with vampirism exist in nature. Humans with inhuman strength. Predatory behaviors. Enhanced night vision. Extreme iron cravings. Enzyme disorders. Intense light sensitivity.

Is it so impossible to believe there’s a mutation, a remnant, a rogue gene that walks among us?

Not every vampire is romantic. Some may be monsters. Some may be kind. But all are worth studying. All are worth listening to.

Why Vampirology Matters Today

Vampirology isn’t just about monsters. It’s about humanity’s relationship with its own shadow. With death. With desire. With what we fear in others, and in ourselves.

It teaches us empathy. Curiosity. Open-mindedness. And maybe, just maybe, it reminds us that this world is not as grey, sterile, or explainable as we pretend it is.

I believe we are still surrounded by mysteries. That creatures we cannot categorize may still walk beside us. That folklore is not just history, it’s code for something hidden.

And maybe that’s what vampirology truly is: A map of the shadows. A love letter to the forbidden. A reminder that not all monsters are myths.

🖤 Want to learn more? Subscribe to my Substack, Patreon, or Medium for deep dives, case studies, and exclusive vampire-themed content every week.

Because monsters deserve a new beginning, too.

OCD Vampire

[ocdvampire]

Into the Heart of Darkness: The Haunting Mystery of Romania’s Hoia-Baciu Forest

Subtitle: Where Time Stands Still, and Shadows Whisper the Truth

The Forest That Shouldn’t Be: A Paranormal Beacon in Transylvania

Paranormal investigators, cryptozoologists, vampirologists, and lovers of gothic horror lore alike flock to this site, hoping to witness its ghostly grandeur. But is it merely legend—or something far more sinister?

Ancient Settlement or Cursed Ground?

Archaeological evidence confirms human settlement in the Hoia-Baciu region dating back to 6500 BC, making it one of the oldest known Neolithic sites in Romania. Part of the Starčevo–Kőrös–Criș culture, this land once bore witness to early civilization’s rituals, burials, and enigmatic architecture. Excavations unearthed ancient homes and burial grounds in the nearby Valea Lungă area���silent testaments to lives long vanished under the soil.

But how many souls wandered these woods? How many were lost to its unseen forces?

We may never know. And that’s precisely what makes it so captivating.

A Forest Alive with Legends, Spectres, and Screams

Among the most chilling legends are:

The Girl Who Vanished for 20 Years: A child who disappeared within the forest’s grasp, only to return two decades later—unchanged. No aging. No memory. As though she had been cradled by time itself.

The Shepherd and His 200 Sheep: A man and his flock walked into the forest and vanished without a single trace. Not a footprint. Not a bleat. Gone.

The Perfect Circle of Death: Deep in the forest lies a barren clearing—a perfect circle where nothing grows. Soil samples show no anomalies, yet vegetation refuses to thrive. Paranormal experts claim this is a dimensional weak spot, where spiritual and electromagnetic energies surge.

And then there are the UFOs—strange lights blinking in unnatural rhythms, captured in multiple photographs and videos, even pre-dating modern drone technology.

A Gothic Pilgrimage: Why Hoia-Baciu Draws the Macabre at Heart

The Hoia-Baciu Forest is nestled not just in Transylvanian geography, but in its cultural DNA. Romania itself is drenched in dark folklore—home to the legend of Vlad the Impaler, vampiric mythologies, haunted monasteries, and haunted castles that echo with ancestral pain.

Imagine The Blair Witch Project, but colder, older, and somehow… watching you.

Final Thoughts: The Forest Never Sleeps

The Hoia-Baciu Forest is more than a spooky tourist destination. It is a living relic of the unknown—a dark sanctuary for those brave enough to confront the veil between this world and the next. It dares us to question what we believe, what we see, and what exists just beyond our understanding.

If you ever find yourself in Cluj-Napoca, and you feel the pull of something ancient, something buried beneath the leaves… listen. The forest calls.

Will you answer? OCD Vampire

[ocdvampire]

Enter Romania’s haunted Hoia-Baciu Forest—where time stands still, ghosts walk freely, and folklore bleeds into chilling paranormal reality. Dare to read more?