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#female gothic authors
tonsillessscum · 9 months
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“Listen to me, Frankenstein. You accuse me of murder; and yet you would, with a satisfied conscience, destroy your own creature. Oh, praise the eternal justice of man!”
-Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
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kaijukiki · 6 months
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Modern vampire storytelling at its finest. Losing author, Anne Rice, recently was a huge blow to the supernatural writing community and to the female writing community. Instead of reviewing this book I’d like those reading this to take a moment of silence for what Anne Rice imaginative storytelling of her stylish, elegant, and unique vampire works and what she’s done for vampires in pop culture as we know it
Thank you
“Goodnight sweet prince, may flights of devils wing you to your rest.”-Anne Rice
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suguruslut · 2 months
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Watched Frankenstein (1931) and the first thing I see is "based on the novel by Mrs. Percey Shelley."
THE DISRESPECT 😤😤 I was fuming for half the movie lol
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deadnotesapppoet · 1 year
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some excerpts from the zombie story I’ve been way too obsessed with writing
basically the local highschool‘s football-team accidentally turn themselves into a bunch of zombies and it’s up to B, the protagonist, and his friends (plus a depressed gas-station-attendant they run into on the way) to save their curious little town from descending into chaos :P
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belle-keys · 1 year
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"I have likewise read one of Miss Austen’s works “Emma” – read it with interest and with just the degree of admiration which Miss Austen herself would have thought sensible and suitable... she ruffles her reader by nothing vehement, disturbs him by nothing profound: the Passions are perfectly unknown to her; she rejects even a speaking acquaintance with that stormy Sisterhood…"
- letter from Charlotte Brontë to W.S. Williams about Jane Austen, 1850
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alittlebit0fmayhem · 1 year
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“What vibes do you want a dark romance fic to give?”
Me: “……”
This:
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Many like to say; “You’ll know if a man truly loves you, if he looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars.” I disagree, when my man looks at me, it is if he is looking at the moon and the stars. As if I am some painting of the renaissance in a big city museum, and he’s an art major from somewhere small. Like I’m the single still standing flower in a decimated waste land, a drop of water in the dessert. His love is bruising, and the purple splotches he brandishes my heart with remind me i’m still alive. Gone is the wish of a pure childhood romance, he is no knight in shinning armor, he is a dragon and I am his glistening jewel. He wishes to devour me, not a taste, but a feast. Where he is a rabid beast, I am a rabbit, naive and ready for the taking. In a macabre picturesque sense, he’s the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen, and I tell him as such while he pulls my hair and leaves me in tears. He holds my hands like he wants to break them, kisses my cheeks with his teeth, and loves me with my wrists pinned above my head. If we were any two things other than what we are now, I’d be a pack of camels, and he’d be a crippling addict. We know we are pretentious, and every time an innocent soul reminds us of the fact, he smiles. It is terrifying. When I am harmed by another, I watch as the sheen of a knife being sharpened gleams in his eyes, and I am flush with mellowing obsession. He gives me a raincoat to keep me dry while he splatters the blood of whomever dares to hurt me, he’s a gentleman in that way. I dont pretend not to grin from ear to ear as I wrap his torn knuckles, I can’t, not when he looks at me the way he does. In a fit of scalding rage, I scream that he’s just like his father. I say it because I know how much he hates his father, and evidently that’ll mean he’ll fuck me with no restraint later, long after we’ve made up, as a punishment for my harsh truths. He doesn’t look for me in a crowded room, he waits on the roof until i’m done pretending to be normal. Sex decorates our living room, it smells on the couch, kitchen counter, and bed, we breath each other in nightly to remind ourselves why the wars we face everyday is worth it. He preens when my pleasure brings with it sobs and begging, and I love the scratches that adorn his back. I am impaired with pity every time I am reminded no one else in the world will ever experience the maelstrom we have built from ruin. Where others refer to their ladies as “gorgeous” he smiles gauntly, and calls me “hauntingly beautiful.” I wouldn’t dream in my darkest hour of having it any other way.
Yo straight up, drop recs below while I re-charge my writing brain.
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sjohnsonwriter-blog · 3 months
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Want a Sapphic Gothic Horror Novel?
Check back in 5+ years.
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I finished writing my sapphic gothic horror novel today, but I've got a huge backlog. So when will it be edited and published?
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Read my new blog article to find out.
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afipiafelis · 2 years
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Maid For Your Master: Pre-Order
A Reader Insert Horror Romance - Male Yandere x Female Reader
TW available here
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Available June 1st, 2022 - Pre-Order Now
eBook 4.99 USD (Kindle, Kobo, EPub, Nook)
Paperback 14.99 USD - (Size: 178mm x 108 mm/4.25″x7″, Weight 257g/9oz)
(Available in the US/CA/UK/EU/AU/NZ and many other countries)
Rumors ruin reputations. For a maid, they can be maddening.
The sharp-tongued Professor Campbell, your employer, is dead. Insinuations about your “nightly duties” make finding a new position impossible. Just as you exhaust the last of your options, an unexpected offer of employment comes from a man you’ve never met: Sicarius Estrova – shipping magnate, eligible bachelor, and an old friend of the professor.
His household, Gravelorne Manor, is far from the picture-perfect image it projects. The staff are rowdy, the mansion is bizarrely furnished, and your beguiling master seems to delight in playing calculating mind games. Too old for the nonsense, you meet his perverse teasing with biting wit and pernicious poise. However, when his endless taunts turn into a sudden proposal, you cannot help but feel something is amiss.
Seduced by his amorous attentions and the promise of financial security, you enter into a marriage where the only certainty is Sicarius’s obsessive desire to mold you into his world. As your husband flip-flops between hopeless romantic and shameless devil, you begin to wonder what wicked schemes hide behind that charming smile.
Reader Character Description: She/her pronouns, female anatomy, approx age late twenties to mid-forties.
ISBN Paperback:  9798986092409
ISBN eBook:  9798986092416
Amazon sales information number eBook:  B09ZB1QPZS
Amazon sales information number paperback:  B09ZCQB33H
Available on Barnes and Noble, Booktopia AU, Indigo CA, ebooks.com, Rakuten Kobo and Amazon (US, UK, FR, DE, AU)
Please note: depending on the country you live in the paperback may not yet be available for pre-order. If you have your heart set on it, check back in a few weeks.
For those with limited finances the book should become available for libraries in the US (and potentially AU) to order after June 1st, 2022.
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watermelinoe · 1 year
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i finished the death of jane lawrence bookfems horrorfems give me more
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strangestcase · 2 years
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Not to be that guy but if by the end of Daily anybody comes out of reading it all still shipping Dracula with literally any character he interacts with, I’m not only gatekeeping all of gothic lit, I’m killing you.
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horrifierproject · 8 months
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The Pianist: A Tale of Horror
written by 🆁🅴🅳 🅰🅲🅸🅳 (@minervafortuna)
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ellieburton · 1 year
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darkcrowprincess · 2 years
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Wip painting idea I got from watching the lifetime movie sequel ( to flower's in the attic) petals on the wind. I've finished the first book an was reading the second. Got the idea to do this. Ran out of white paint while doing this. Need more.
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deadnotesapppoet · 2 months
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“And he had never asked, either, because a dim, starved corner of his mind had liked it when his father lied to him. Looked him in the eyes and said something untrue. It meant that deep down, Pat Evans cared enough about his bastard-son to keep a secret from him.”
“He doesn’t remember anything else about that day. Not what he had had for breakfast, not if he had played with the kids next door, not even if it had been summer or winter. What he does remember— and probably won’t ever forget— is how the jagged edge of the beer bottle’s neck had felt breaking his frail skin. How a few shards had punctured his tongue. The grotesque look on his father‘s face when he realized what he had done. The tantalizing gentleness with which he had pulled the bottle back out of his sons cheek, murmuring apologies.” 
this fool has daddy issues! point and laugh girls!
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umiagawa · 3 days
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Thank you for Flash Fiction Magazine for selecting my story “The Final Wish”.
You can view the full story here:
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ghostwirter · 13 days
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Sneak Peak of what I am writing
Kayla rolled her eyes as she didn't want to listen to Rick. "You are not my alpha." She could hear her wolf growling at Rick because her wolf knows who their mate is.
Rick didn't like that as he grabbed her by the throat and pin her to the wall. "Who do you think you are?" He growled as he could hear his wolf wanted to take over.
Kayla quickly slap him so hard because she didn't like how he was trying to act like they are mates which she already found her mate and it wasn't Rick at all.
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