If I Don’t Live In A Great Ever Expanding Mansion That Overlooks A Moor And Contains An Overflowing

I want soft things. Soft things that are the same time dark. Like victorian dark, not morbid dark. I want to recieve mail. I want to wear soft socks. I want to live and work in a library all day. I want to know a library like the back of my hand. I want to be left alone but I also want to be noticed. I want to cram books in a bookshelf that cannot take more. Then because the bookshelf is full, I want to line books by the bed. Then the study table. Then the window. I want to walk in the mornings across mossy dewy cemeteries. I want my bag to be heavy with books. And a diary with messy writing. I want to press leaves between pages and find them years later. I want to wear flannel. And soft sweaters. I want to visit art galleries, museums. Antique stores. I want to fill my apartment with wooden furniture. I want plants. I want tea in the evening in my balcony as the sun sets and the city turns pink. I want to stand in the sun, taking in the morning light.

a guild to the dark academia aesthetic

what to wear:

TWEED

trench coats

dark colours

black turtle necks

plaid pants/skirts

scarfs

three piece suits

button ups and collard tops 

old watches

lockets

rings

glasses

knit wear

decor/furniture:

desks (preferably cherry or mahogany)

towering bookcases

record players

art depicting tarot cards or deities

old photographs

books e v e r y w h e r e

vintage tea cups with roses on them

candles

old wine bottles

a chess board

a skull

at least one ash tray (even if u don’t smoke!)

make-up/hair

red lipstick

brow gel

any dark lipstick

bangs

long hair

red lipstick

or collar bone length

undercuts r also rly rad

oh and did i mention red lipstick?

food:

red wine

gin

whiskey

champagne

coffee

tea

blackberries

pomegranates

bloody steak

mushrooms

candied ginger

toast-plain toast

soup

walnuts

what to read:

the secret history (obvi)

if we were villains

the golden finch

anything by V.E schwab

shakespeare

aeschylus

homer

plato

anything by oscar wilde

ninth house

song of achilles

harry potter (don’t @ me it’s da)

truly devious

edgar allan poe

(this list could go on forever but these of some of my faves)

music

hozier

lorde

tears for fears

depeche mode

any classical

lana del ray

the smiths

the cranberries

velvet underground

(again this list could go on forever)

partially inspired by this post

Listen to me, when you're wandering through dark and hidden floors, when you're studying early, only god knows if you've just woken up or haven't slept at all and it feels like you're the only person in the world, when you're feeling superior because you know.

Ribs - Lorde

Talk - Hozier

Oxford Comma - Vampire Weekend

sex money feelings die - Lykke Li

Take Me To Church - Hozier

The Love Club - Lorde

Rich Kids Blues - Lykke Li

Pumped Up Kicks - Foster The People

Love Me - The 1975

Afraid - The Neighbourhood

Taxi Cab - Vampire Weekend

Heartbreak Hotel - Elvis Presley

Ain't No Sunshine - aeseaes

I Don't Want To Set The World On Fire - The Ink Spots

Fly Me To The Moon - Frank Sinatra, Count Basie

Where Did You Sleep Last Night - Lead Belly

I'll Never Smile Again - Frank Sinatra, Tommy Dorsey

Put Your Head On My Shoulder - Paul Anka

Sleep Walk - Santo & Johnny

Super Rich Kids - Frank Ocean

Bags - Clairo

I Love My Friends - Foster The People

Make You Mine - Family Of The Year

Sofia - Clairo

Leonie - Frankie Cosmos

Radlands - Mystery Jets

Tom's Diner - AnnenMayKantereit, Giant Rooks

Bad Religion - Frank Ocean

ilomilo - Billie Eilish

The Girl from Ipanema - Stan Getz, João Gilberto, Astrud Gilberto

Asleep - The Smiths

Everybody Wants To Rule The World - Tears For Fears

How Soon Is Now? - The Smiths

Blue Sunday - The Doors

The Chain - Fleetwood Mac

Riders On The Storm - The Doors

Season Of The Witch - Lana del Rey

Romanian Folk Dances, Sz 56: III. Pe-loc Andante - Béla Bartók, Andrew Rangell

Clair de Lune, L.32 - Claude Debussy, Martin Jones

You ever see a stranger on the bus, and think “you’d be the type of person who’d plan an art heist with me, and then when things went wrong, you’d betray me and steal the art for yourself. Leaving me behind to get caught by the police. I’d take the fall for the crime and spend years in prison. I’d track you down the moment I got released, with the intent to kill you for betraying me. You’d make me chase you around the continent, Almost getting caught a number of times. Each time I got close the encounter would be heart wrenching, filled with guilt and a lot of sexual tension. When I finally catch you, I won’t be able to kill you. I’ve fallen in love with you all over again, or maybe I never stopped loving you. You’d apologize for leaving me behind, but like back then, your only trying to save your own skin. Your not really sorry, you’d do it again in a heartbeat. I realize this, and without saying another word, I leave, planning to move on with my life and never see you again. You think you’ve won, but now that the chase is over, you realize how much you missed me durning my time in prison, and how much your going to miss me now that I’m gone again. You realize your mistake and trying to win me back, but I’ve found someone new and they treat me well enough. But deep down I don’t want to be with them, every bit of me wants to run away with you. I try to shove that feeling away, and eventually you accept that I won’t forgive you. We split ways for a time, both miserable but pretending we’re not. Until you hear that I’m getting married. You decide to try to win me back one last time before I’m gone forever. So you find me on the night before my wedding. I’m crying in my room alone because I don’t know what I want or who I am or what I’m doing living this perfect fake life when all I want is to be driving fast cars and making cash by selling stolen good. You approach me quietly, and I almost don’t believe your real. Neither of us know what to say to each other, but we both long to be together. Finally you ask me to leave with you. I take your hand and we escape through my window. We flee the country together, and live the remainder of our days on tropical islands drinking expensive wines and stealing from the rich. we never get caught for our crimes, and we die peacefully together in our sleep. Later when our grandchildren go through our things, they find a diary that tells the tales of our heists and the treasures we collected. They tear out the pages telling wear our fortune is hidden, and then give the rest of the book to the police so the whole world can know how great we were. Our grandchildren later go find the fortune after the police had given up their search for it. Then they carry on the family tradition, and become just as great as we were. Our names live on forever as legends.” And then they get off the bus and you never see them again.

wait you're saying you don't habitually take your copy of cervantes to frat parties?

just a hypothetical here but what if our eyes met across the floor of our English class. It would happen so spontaneously. We’d have been in in this class together for all of the semester but something about this day would make us both look up. From that point on we keep looking at each other. You’d watch as I’d scribble notes mercilessly into my copy of Jane Eyre, and I’d dream about the way you’d bite the tip of your highlighter as you focused. And one day we’d be paired together for a project on poetry in the romantic era. Of course we’d listen to the words of the great poets and live out of feeling, falling recklessly in love. And our relationship would come and go so quick our friends never would have known it happened. But for those two weeks we’d be each other’s soul and breath, and we’d spend our time spread out on the campus lawn, drawn close together with my head in your lap as we’d take turns reading gothic novels and our favorite poems to each other as we dined on fresh fruit and old wine.

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I want soft things. Soft things that are the same time dark. Like victorian dark, not morbid dark. I want to recieve mail. I want to wear soft socks. I want to live and work in a library all day. I want to know a library like the back of my hand. I want to be left alone but I also want to be noticed. I want to cram books in a bookshelf that cannot take more. Then because the bookshelf is full, I want to line books by the bed. Then the study table. Then the window. I want to walk in the mornings across mossy dewy cemeteries. I want my bag to be heavy with books. And a diary with messy writing. I want to press leaves between pages and find them years later. I want to wear flannel. And soft sweaters. I want to visit art galleries, museums. Antique stores. I want to fill my apartment with wooden furniture. I want plants. I want tea in the evening in my balcony as the sun sets and the city turns pink. I want to stand in the sun, taking in the morning light.