Ravenclaw Things

dark and gloomy clouds, the quiet before storm, smell of the air right before the first drops fall, open window, cozy unmade bed with bedsheets smelling of cuddles and warmth, soft whispers of ‘i love yous’ and kisses lost in your hair

dark academia/classic lit community we need to do better, you cannot call yourself well read after only reading one perspective. READ AUTHORS OF COLOR, especially black authors in this time, and always. if we love learning so much, we need to educate ourselves, the white-male focus of these communities is shameful and needs to change.

Dark Academia aesthetics for science subjects

Physics

Chewed lips and fingernails. Coffee rings on your desk, and books, and pages. A sparrow pauses at your windowsill - it turns to you, and you have the strangest feeling that it understands something that you cannot. The atoms around you seem to communicate. Your eyelashes flutter, your fingers are stained. Who are you. What is this. What is this.

Astronomy

Lying on cobblestone in loose, flowey clothing. Your hands are cold, but something inside you burns, quietly - in your sternum, in your gut, behind your eyes, behind your teeth. Pinpricks of stars on a velvet night, glints of dust on a sun-streak, droplets of rain on a windowsill. All of this, and you, are the same.

Botany

A candle burns on your desk. Scrapbooks are filled with sketches, and pressed flowers, and dried leaves. Vines creep over a stone wall. You drink herbal tea with the bag left in. Tonight you press wax stamps to handwritten letters. You sit and drink the moonlight. You whisper to the plant on your windowsill.

Chemistry

Loose, giddy laughter. Two friends, shrieking and spinning, alone in a dark hall. Ridiculous, unfeasible ideas. Chicken-scratch notes. Walking the halls of an old university, gothic and dead and alive. You spent hours and hours in the lab, so consumed you don’t notice the time pass. It’s dark when you step outside. You tremble with excitement. Tomorrow.

Medicine

Macabre diagrams of skulls and human anatomy on yellowed paper. Your journals are cryptic: the scratched cursive look like clues, the symbols, code. Nights and nights and nights spent awake, exhaustion tugging at your clothes and your eyes and your neck, but your mind buzzes with an electric determination that teeters on madness. Clasped hands, and quiet camaraderie.

Veterinary medicine

Untamed grass on a misty morning, embroidered with wildflowers. You wear an old dress, or a white shirt tucked into loose checked trousers. Dew brushes your ankles. Your fingers card gently over fur. A kiss just barely touches skin. Your mind is sharp, but your heart is open. There is a breeze through the open window.

Technology

City lights. Ideas that swirl - no, prick at you, fine needle points of inspiration that kiss at the base of your neck, your jaw, your head, and you scramble to turn them into something real. Rusty gears turn on an old watch. A quirked eyebrow. You smell rain on the pavement. 

Psychology

A lone ballerina spins in an abandoned chapel; a streak of white against darkness. Tea in a vintage teacup, spoon left in, on a neat pile of books. Quiet gasps, soft hands and cursive writing. The echo of footsteps. A hand brushes through your hair. A mist rolls in. You think this dawn looks like a dusk.

Marine Biology

Waves heave and undulate, like a great ribcage swelling with breath. You watch it from a lighthouse, blank faced and austere in a long black coat. A small flame of fear quivers in the hollow of your chest. At the old wooden desk, you work.You lick your lips and taste brine.

click here for part 1: (aesthetics for literature, classics, philosophy, fine art, political science, and history)

you know when you’re all negative and you feel like nothing is gonna get better in your life and so you put your headphones on to distract yourself and you start listening to a song and so you start thinking about who the song belongs to and see that it’s the artist that you discovered when you needed someone the most. and that gives you nostalgia and you smile a little and feel so greatful for somehow having them, because they make you feel less lonely and sometimes they make you forget about those bad thoughts or problems in your life and it’s like you’re happy for a bit?

i think it’s one of the best feelings ever because someone who doesn’t even know you is able to make you feel so much only with a song or a video or a picture. it’s magical, it feels so unreal. you know what i mean?

Christian scientist character who’s asked why he believes in God and says ‘I believe in what I can see’ and then gives an alphabetized list of all the miracles he’s seen

ok hear me out WHAT IF bsd had a character who instead of being some writer would represent the readers and their ability would be to basically absorve other people’s abilities

wouldn’t that be iconic

watching spirited away for the first time is like… being trapped in the melancholic atmosphere…. the tragic isolation and madness of no face….. feeling the same horrified smallness chihiro does.. the hopelessness of losing her misunderstanding but loving parents…… haku’s quiet betrayal, and the relief of finding out he really was a friend… the curiousity of kamaji’s boiler room, or yubaba’s decorated office…. the hope for lin to make it out of the bath house one day, the wonder of the shaddowy figures on the bus……. the world makes you feel so small and part of a true and rich world that you can only give a brief, passing glance before you must part from it, never knowing but wishing to one day see it again

"And I pray one prayer--I repeat it till my tongue stiffens--Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living! You said I killed you--haunt me then. The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe--I know that ghosts have wandered the earth. Be with me always--take any form--drive me mad. Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! It is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!"

-Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

today’s date is the 3rd? what’s next, the 4th? the 5th? the minor fall, the major lift? 

illegible handwriting, coffee rings on notebooks, putting gloves on only to take them off again, dark lipstick, maurice (1987), walking to class when it’s not raining enough for an umbrella but just enough to fog up your glasses, stone buildings, leaves that aren’t quite crunchy, deadlines, pen smudges, leaving class only to find out its dark outside, cinnamon, cold noses, swaying trees, half moons, cuffed sleeves, silence