111 posts
Latest Posts by melancholianarcissus - Page 3
when mary shelley said “i am unstable, sometimes melancholy, and have been called on some occasions imperious; but i never did an ungenerous act in my life. i sympathise warmly with others, and have wasted my heart in their love”
“All literature is scarry. It celebrates the wound and repeats the lesion.”
— Hélène Cixous, Preface to Stigmata
High Sierra (Raoul Walsh, 1941)
Possessed (Curtis Bernhardt, 1947)
Marlene Dietrich in a Knize lounge suit, c.1931
Film posters for Robert Eggers’ The Witch by Midnight Marauder.
Palazzo Medici Riccardi: Courtyard
Via Camillo Cavour, Florence
The purest form of love, I think, is having someone who wants to learn about you, from you and with you.
Now, do you have something to tell me? What are you talking about? You’re new instagram account.
coa.
ancient greek is a very silly language in general but it also had a word for ‘being a little too into horses’ so really the greeks were not that different from us at all
Not to be gay on main.... But all I want is to live in a small medieval town. I'm the town baker. My bakery is my home and I'm always wearing an apron and covered in flour.
Nextdoor is a forge, and I am very close with the blacksmith that works there. Every morning I bring him a freshly baked loaf of bread. As I hand it to him our hands touch briefly. His hands are rough, yet they're so careful and gentle with everything he touches. I secretly want him to be that gentle with me.
One day, he walks into my bakery, he's still sweaty from the intense heat of the forge. In his hands is a small dagger in it's sheath. He hands it to me and tells me it's to protect myself if needed.
I take the dagger out of it's sheath. It's beautifully made. There are intricate designs engraved into the metal. It's so much more complicated than anything else yeah blacksmith has ever made. It must've been so time consuming to make.
I look up at him and with just one look I understand why he's giving it to me. With one look we both understand that we love each other. He leans in and kisses me. It's so soft and sweet, and gentle.
He comes by every day to get a loaf of bread and kiss me. We keep our relationship a secret. And everyone wonders why neither of us have found wives. But we know exactly why. And we're completely content with being secret lovers.
Is that really too much to ask?
Human brain: Love takes time. You’re not going to meet the perfect person for you randomly tomorrow. And even if you did, it would take time for love to develop. You need to be patient. It’ll be worth it when you finally find your perfect someone.
Monkey brain, repeatedly slamming fist on table: I want a boyfriend, NOW! I want affection, NOW! I want cuddles and kisses and cute fluffy moments, rIgHt FuCkInG nOw!
The Cabinet Of Dr. Caligari Directed by Robert Wiene (1920)
n.c
great-grandmother Olga’s blouse on a rain-swept autumnal morning.
ig: rosenaufsuden
tchaikovsky donating his skull to the royal shakespeare company in the hopes of becoming yorick is the most dramatic ass dark academia shit ever and you can’t convince me otherwise
The Bacchante, 1853 Jean-Leon Gerome (detail)
idealized version of myself has hair down to my waist, pearl earrings, and a long white lacy nightdress that trails several feet behind me. also i am barefoot and there are bloodstains on the dress (not my own) and it is nighttime
do you ever see someone and think thousands of poems must have been written about you
when anton chekhov said “develop the aesthetic feeling in yourself. allow your heart to ache for what the eye does not see”
Benjamin Alire Saenz, The Inexplicable Logic of My Life
Erotic dark academia fruits:
literally
any
fruit
you
like
pomegranate.
Dark academia things as people:
a university campus - long dark hair and shining eyes, hands are always cold, has three shades of dark lipstick in the purse, awake early in the morning, wears brown jackets, perfect handwriting;
poetry - reads sonnets at night, love for nature, never has enough money to buy good wine, would whisper lines your favorite poems, has a crush on Shelley but doesn't admit it;
candels - stays awake all night, sleeps all day, studies philosophy, every bookshop worker in the town knows them, kisses you softly goodnight, gets offended every time somebody says they are cute;
an abandoned mansion - always alone, is said to have a horrifying past, wears black coats, collects vintage things, should have been born in 19th century, loves sisters Brontë, they cry themselves to sleep.
November aesthetics: 'Eros' by Ludovico Einaudi, black coffee, chaotic notes from the previous night, constant headaches and fatigue, screams at midnight, dripping candle wax, cold bed, insomnia, reading William Blake's biography.
What if... you wear a black coat, learn foreign languages and the English literature, listen to the most beautiful songs in the world and... we're in love?..
What if… I would bring you wild flowers… and… read some Keats to you while you’re falling asleep… in my arms? Aha ha, just kidding… unless?