#historical fiction aesthetic

[flightlessartist]

in hills made of coarse earth and honey🏺

✦ find me on instagram @the.flightless.artist ✦

[bixels]

I'm not explaining why re-imagining characters as POC is not the same as white-washing, here of all places should fucking understand.

[ellie-makes-mbs]

name moodboard for “avalon” for @eroticapoetess

[thebellekeys]

“People who cease to believe in God or goodness altogether still believe in the devil... Evil is always possible. And goodness is eternally difficult.”

– Interview With the Vampire by Anne Rice (1976)

[home-ward]

[leannareneehieber]

HELLO!

(Yes, this is me as Sarah Winchester for Halloween. Also, yes, this is pretty much my general wardrobe give or take a lace layer. Yes, I wrote a long chapter in this book about Sarah Winchester because I really love her and find her to be fundamentally misunderstood.)

I just wanted to drop by and say it's still Women's History Month and it's still a GREAT time to read about historical women and how their stories resonate with us today. BONUS: you can do this through ghost lore! Here's how!

A HAUNTED HISTORY OF INVISIBLE WOMEN: TRUE STORIES OF AMERICA'S GHOSTS examines women's history by using ghost stories; unpacking how we talk about women, alive and dead. Available wherever books are sold, in paperback, audio and digital! Retailer links here!

Word-of-mouth is so important for books like ours, so if this book interests you, could you please share? Thanks so much and Happy Haunting!

[baudouinette]

Saint Balduinus pray for us 🛐

[bigdreamsandwildthings]

Cozy Sunday vibes 🤍

[randomgirl005]

A Timid Light/ Una Llum Tímida

Both precious and tough at the same time, the same book has the power to make you feel incredibly good at times and, simultaneously, to break you and leave you in pieces at others.

Una Llum Tímida (A Timid Light), an original text written and performed as a theatrical play by Àfrica Alonso, based on real events, takes us to Spain during the last fifteen years of Franco's regime. It tells a love story between two teachers in a small village in Valencia called Manuel.

This 2024, the same author has published the work as a novel, a text written with the same delicacy and dedication as the theatrical play that preceded it. With extensive research behind it, Àfrica Alonso traveled to the small village of Manuel to immerse herself firsthand in the world of the two protagonists. There, she visited the little apartment where the teachers lived and even spoke with people who had the privilege of knowing them during their lifetime.

It is a harrowing story that, thanks to the author’s incredible writing, makes you turn the pages without realizing it, sometimes needing to stop to reflect, or even reread a paragraph, a sentence, or an entire page to process all the emotions these words manage to convey.

From the very beginning, a feeling of tenderness and love toward Isabel and Carmen takes hold of you. Àfrica Alonso has achieved a narrative that makes you feel everything that happens to them as if you were present in that small apartment in Manuel alongside them.

The good moments, the bad ones... You feel it all as if it directly affects you, creating a bond with the protagonists that leads you to reflect and think about how harsh and unfair life was for them. Despite the love they shared, due to the conditions and beliefs—partially imposed—of the time, they broke the societal norms of love; a love as tender and genuine as theirs. This ultimately shattered the happiness and mental integrity of two young women whose only wish was to be happy and love each other freely, without harming or bothering anyone.

The book brilliantly portrays the guilt that plagued the young women because of a love that, according to the closed-minded society of the time, was an abomination. With tears in your eyes and goosebumps, the book shows you, in a fictional yet very realistic way, how the feeling of guilt consumed them, how self-hatred and rejection of who they were became a constant presence in their lives, always clashing with the pure and sincere love they had for each other.

This internal struggle between the ideals you were raised with and what you have become is present throughout the book. The inability to embrace who you are due to incorrect, instilled values that go against everything you truly are—and deep down, you know that nothing you feel could be as wrong as they make you believe. Even though you’re aware that what you’re doing harms no one, a deeply ingrained part of you cannot let go of this sense of what is "right" and "normal." Is it perhaps out of fear of losing those we thought we loved once? Or maybe out of fear of losing who we thought we were? Whatever the case, what do we have to lose if we don’t have love?

[mcversipellis]

“True friends share everything, except the past before they met.”

― Mary Renault, Fire from Heaven

*Redid my old (not really old, they’re from last year🙄) illustrations on the historical novel “Fire from heaven” which follows a journey of Alexander the Great through childhood to the very end.

[mybookdiaries]

He is half of my soul, as the poets say.

The song of Achilles, Madeline Miller

[thegenesisguardians]

Ground Zero : Chapter 1

We were just kids

It was a warm, bright spring day. The air hummed with life as Viper and Lilian, two young sisters, climbed high into the trees surrounding their home. The divine nature of the children who inhabited this mystical place made everything flourish with abundance, especially the forest that enveloped their lovely manor. Today, the sisters were testing their climbing skills, eager to push their limits.

Lilian wore a pastel yellow spring overall set, her soft brown hair tied in a neat braid. Viper, slightly older, sported a sleek black jumpsuit, her wild, short hair whipping in the breeze. Viper had a firm grip on the bark as she hoisted herself up, the rough texture of the tree scraping her palms. She paused every so often to glance down, making sure her younger sister could follow, lending her a hand when needed.

The trees on the island were strange—foreign even to those who ventured from distant continents. Some stood as tall as small mountains, while others, like the teenage spruce they were climbing, barely stretched beyond a single story. To Viper and Lilian, this was just the right height for a bit of fun, their favorite tree for an afternoon adventure.

When they reached the top, the sisters settled, wrapping one arm around each other and the other around the rough trunk for balance. From their perch, they could see the vibrant world of the forest unfold below them—creatures scampering into tree hollows, birds singing sweet melodies, flowers blossoming in bursts of color that painted the earth like an artist's palette. The soft rustle of the leaves in the gentle breeze was almost hypnotic.

Viper let out a satisfied sigh, her lips curling into a smile as she took in the scene. “It’s beautiful up here, isn't it?” she murmured. Lilian pressed her cheek against the tree, the cool, textured bark grounding her as she felt the pulse of life flowing through it. “It’s like the tree is alive, breathing,” Lilian whispered, eyes wide in wonder.

Suddenly, Viper shifted her footing, but her shoe slipped on a patch of slick moss. Her heart leaped in her chest as her balance tipped backward. Panic flashed across her face as she felt gravity pull her down, her fingers clawing at the bark in a futile attempt to stop the fall.

“Viper!” Lilian’s voice rang out, sharp with fear. Time seemed to slow for the younger sister. Reflexes honed from their divine nature kicked in as Lilian’s eyes followed Viper’s fall. With no hesitation, her body reacted—muscles coiled like springs ready to release. Her wrist split open as if by instinct, the skin parting without pain. Out shot veins and nerves, twisting and transforming in the open air into vine-like tendrils.

The botanical tendrils lashed out, snaking around Viper’s waist just as she slipped out of reach. The vines tightened and jerked her sister back toward the tree. Viper grunted as she collided with the trunk and a few branches on the way down, earning a few scrapes, but she was safe. She blinked in shock, catching her breath as she looked up at Lilian’s pale, strained face.

“Gotcha,” Lilian exhaled, her arm trembling as her vines began to retract. The tendrils slithered back into her skin, reshaping into their original form. A few of them lingered, wrapping themselves around the open wound on her wrist, forming a leafy bandage that covered the cut and started the healing process.

Viper, still clinging to a branch just beneath her, rubbed the back of her head with a wry grin. “Nice catch, Lil’,” she said, her voice light but still a bit shaken. Her nails elongated into small, sharp claws, sinking into the tree for extra grip. “You okay? I didn’t make you use too much of your power, did I?”

Lilian, still slightly out of breath, nodded as she lowered herself onto the branch beside her sister. “I’m fine, just… don’t do that again, please,” she said with a shaky laugh, her vines tightening one last time before they vanished under her skin completely. “You scared me.”

Viper gave her a playful shove with her shoulder. “I’ll try not to make a habit of it,” she teased, though there was genuine gratitude in her eyes. She looked around as the last bits of adrenaline faded, and added, “Think we should head back?”

Lilian glanced toward the horizon, where the sun was already beginning its descent. “Yeah, Ty said we should only be out for a few hours. Plus, I think we’ve done enough climbing for one day.”

With a shared look and a nod, the two girls carefully made their way back down the tree, their feet finding steady purchase on each branch as they descended. The forest was alive with sounds, the wind whistling through the leaves, the hum of distant wildlife creating a serene symphony.

Elsewhere, the dead came in all shapes and sizes—some old, some young, and tonight, one of them was a child. Kaboo’s footsteps were silent as she moved through the dimly lit forest, her black aura shimmering around her like the wings of a raven. Despite her otherworldly appearance, she had a calm, soothing presence, the kind that could ease even the most terrified soul.

The little ghost girl stood shaking, her translucent form flickering with fear. Kaboo approached her slowly, her expression devoid of emotion, but there was something in her eyes—an unspoken promise of safety. “No one is going to hurt you here anymore,” Kaboo said softly, her voice a quiet, steady rhythm that seemed to soothe the child.

The girl, wide-eyed, looked up at Kaboo, her voice trembling. “I don’t wanna go…”

Kaboo knelt, her dark silhouette blending into the shadows. “Where would you like to go, then?” she asked, her tone patient as she reached into her pocket, pulling out a handkerchief to gently wipe the child’s tear-streaked face.

The girl sniffled, calming under Kaboo’s touch. “I… I want to see Mama and Papa again.”

Kaboo’s lips curled into a soft smile, the first real warmth she had shown all night. “They’re waiting for you behind those doors,” she whispered, pointing toward the shimmering light in the distance. The girl’s eyes lit up with hope, and she slowly began to walk toward the glow, disappearing as she crossed the threshold.

Meanwhile, back at the manor, Raiya lay sprawled on the floor, her face pressed into the wooden planks as her chest heaved with heavy breaths. “Dragon Witch… defeated…” she panted, her words muffled by exhaustion.

Jessa, a small toddler, sat triumphantly on her older sister’s back, waving her arms in the air. “I win! I win!” she squealed in delight.

Raiya groaned, too tired to argue. She had faced dangerous beasts, outrun law enforcement, and battled feral monsters in the past, but nothing compared to the bottomless energy of her little sister. She rolled onto her side, sending Jessa tumbling into the cushions of the nearby couch with a giggle.

“Alright, Jessa,” Raiya said, her voice heavy with fatigue. “Big Sis is tired. How about some cocoa before bed?”

Jessa’s face lit up as she nodded eagerly. “Cocoa!” she chirped, bouncing on the couch, her favorite stuffed animal Mr. Rex clutched in her arms.

Raiya smiled fondly, brushing a hand through her tangled hair as she pushed herself up. As she walked toward the kitchen, she felt the familiar dull ache in her shoulder—a reminder of the gunshot wound from the previous night. She winced slightly but shrugged it off, focusing instead on preparing the hot chocolate.

In another room, Tyra sat by the window, her eyes heavy with exhaustion from a long night of patrol. But when Diane toddled up to her, arms raised for a hug, Tyra felt a sudden rush of warmth. She scooped her little sister up and held her close, the setting sun casting a golden glow over them as they embraced.

For a moment, the weariness melted away, replaced by the simple comfort of family.

[fallensapphires]

Movies: Titanic (1997)

Gentlemen. It has been a privilege playing with you tonight.

[thebellekeys]

Biographical movies and dramas about writers:

Tolkien (2019) - about JRR Tolkien

The Edge of Love (2008) - about Dylan Thomas

Set Fire to the Stars (2014) - about Dylan Thomas

Colette (2018) - about Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette

Wilde (1997) - about Oscar Wilde

The Trials of Oscar Wilde (1960) - about Oscar Wilde

My Salinger Year (2020) - about JD Salinger

Rebel in the Rye (2017) - about JD Salinger

Mary Shelley (2017) - about Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

Gothic (1986) - about Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

Shakespeare in Love (1998) - about William Shakespeare

Sylvia (2003) - about Sylvia Plath

Dickinson (2019-2021) - about Emily Dickinson

A Quiet Passion (2016) - about Emily Dickinson

Vita & Virginia (2019) - about Virginia Woolf

Becoming Jane (2008) - about Jane Austen

Miss Austen Regrets (2007) - about Jane Austen

Kafka (1991) - about Franz Kafka

Byron (2003) - about Lord Byron

Total Eclipse (1995) - about Paul Verlaine

Capote (2005) - about Truman Capote

Rowing with the Wind (1988) - about the Romantic Poets

Infamous (2006) - about Truman Capote

Quills (2000) - about Marquis de Sade

Neruda (2016) - about Pablo Neruda

Juana Inés (2016) - about Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz

Daphne (2007) - about Daphne du Maurier

Priest of Love (1981) - about DH Lawrence

Little Ashes (2008) - about Federico Garcia Lorca

Lope (2010) - about Lope de Vega

Howl (2010) - about Allen Ginsberg

The Last Station (2009) - about Leo Tolstoy

Young Goethe in Love (2010) - about Johann Goethe

Tom & Viv (1994) - about T.S. Eliot

Céleste (1980) - about Marcel Proust

Hemingway & Gellhorn (2012) - about Ernest Hemingway

Balzac: A Life of Passion (1999) - about Honore de Balzac

The Man Who Invented Christmas (2017) - about Charles Dickens

Shirley (2020) - about Shirley Jackson

Goodbye Christopher Robin (2017) - about Alan Alexander Milne

Heart Beat (1980) - about Jack Kerouac

In the Heart of the Sea (2015) - about Herman Melville

Notes: Not all of the films on this non-exhaustive list are entirely “about” the lives of their respective writers to a tee. I cannot vouch for the accuracy or quality of all of these movies. I’ve only seen about 75% of these films personally. And yes, I know this list is very Westernized – I’m working on it.

[edelweiss-maiden]

𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖎𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙, 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖎𝖘 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖓𝖊𝖊𝖉. 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖒𝖆𝖉𝖊 𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖓𝖊𝖊𝖉𝖘, 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖒𝖆𝖉𝖊 𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖘. 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖎𝖘 𝖎𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖜𝖎𝖘𝖍 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒 𝖔𝖋?

[home-ward]

dark spring days // from my camera roll

ig: hmmurraywriting