#Edgar Bones aesthetic

[enbysiriusblack]

edgar bones aesthetic

[devil-works-hard]

Adding Things to BATIM

BATIM is one of those games that scratches the inside of my skull just right- to the point that one of my biggest gripes is that there's not much there. Sure, there's easter eggs and compelling environments, but a lot of the stuff introduced doesn't get taken as far as I think it could. So here are some things I would have liked to have seen in the first game.

NOTE: I know that Bendy is made by a small team, and that definitely influences how the games turn out. These ideas are purely hypothetical in a "unlimited money and hired talent" kind of way.

Art & Story

A multiplane camera and puzzle - This was a huge part in the animation-making process, as it helped with depth in the animations. I'm picturing a puzzle where you collect the different cells and backgrounds, and have to put together the sequence to unlock a secret.

Abby's desk/office

Discarded concept art for characters (kind of like the Don't Let Joey See This art)

Just adding the Story Department in general - Could literally just be a room with a bunch of books and typewriters.

Dot's desk, preferably with something relating to Buddy

Mr. Hemmings' desk/office

More things related to the filming/editing crew, including a dark room for the negatives

Music

The Employee Handbook says there's supposed to be a lot of offices there, so maybe more of those to make the space feel bigger

Sound Effects booth. They did some really creative stuff to achieve sound effects for those old cartoons. This could be another coded puzzle to unlock another secret

Maybe some more vinyl records, and a puzzle related to that

It sounds weird to say but Music is not nearly as flooded as people make it out to be. I Want It Underwater

Infirmary

An audio log from a nurse/worker talking about people getting sick from the ink, or even just from stress

Alternatively, an audio log from a disgruntled worker complaining how bare-bones and understaffed the infirmary is

Another ink monster corpse, just for the ✨aesthetic✨

Heavenly Toys

A maze room filled with shelves and boxes of unsold merch. This could also be in the Projectionist's domain

Different kinds of toys, like planes and Edgar's ducky

A puzzle where you make/fix toys

Instead of just grabbing the hearts from the Butcher Gang's hands, Henry should remove the hearts himself. That could be really tense in the Projectionist's domain

Finance

Again, add the Finance department. The handbook says Grant has 40+ people working under him, they should have offices. There's an overhead door to the right of the elevator; it could go there.

A math puzzle. It could be actual arithmetic/algebra, could just be messing with 1940s calculators.

Alternatively, a clock or time-related puzzle, because time is money

Adding this kind of stuff could add build-up to Grant's office reveal, which happens a little too soon in the chapter imo.

Archives

Make it a maze - it was a missed opportunity not to make it even bigger

Safecracking puzzles, for easter eggs and whatnot

Let Us Open Some Books! It would've been cool to have some special lore bits in the Archives.

Bendyland

Rollercoaster - I was half joking about the euthanasia coaster thing, but a rollercoaster thing would've been fun to see. Maybe it keeps getting stuck on the tracks, and Henry has to free up the wheels before something gets to him (a la the boat chase in Chapter 5)

Make the Bendy animatronic move. Lacie's audio log makes it sound like it should, so why not make it happen? It could be a Weeping Angel-type of enemy.

More fair games, like a dunk tank or duck pond game

On that note, give us a prize if we can beat them all, like an actual weapon for defeating Brute Boris instead of the cans

More audio logs from Bertrum, just to really build him up (and to give his boss fight more oomph).

Administration

Changing the locations of the functioning inkwells - The one inkwell that you need for the thick ink is right next to Joey's office, but once you've found it there's no incentive to search the rest of administration. Maybe, once you've grabbed that one ink blob, you have to find another functioning well.

PR department/office, bonus points if Joey's Chapter 4 audio log gets moved here

HR department/office, featuring a list of complaints made by employees

For a department so deep in the studio, Administration is surprisingly free from ink. Some offices could be flooded; there could be another plumbing puzzle to drain the offices.

The Maintenance Department is apparently lumped under Admin, so maybe give Wally a proper office (and/or broom closet)

And, as a bonus, a couple smaller ideas:

The ability to search through desks, file cabinets, lockers and trash cans (as seen in BATDR). This could really add some depth and interactivity to the studio and insight into the lives of the workers. Plus, there's more opportunities for spooky stuff. Imagine opening a desk and finding a still-beating heart.

Crevices, crawlspaces, secret tunnels and areas that were discovered/used by Norman- these could lead to secrets, or just be a shortcut through complicated areas of the studio.

Another area that requires a flashlight (like the dark hallway in Chapter 3).

I've got more ideas, but those are the ideas that don't involve fundamentally rewriting the game. Feedback and thoughts would be appreciated!

[doyle-andi-laconi]

Hi, I'm Doyle. I'm a 16 years old Slytherin. I'm a Bi boy that loves people. I'm not mean, I promise. I try to be the most kind person possible. I'm a bit of a gossip, so if you need help with knowing something or you have information that I would like to know come tell me. I love the retro aesthetic and pass way to much time playing that I'm in an old movie and sometimes dreaming about it. Please don't interact with me if you have pureblood problematic views. That's all.

@james-the-amazing-potter @starlight-starbright-thatsme @looneymoonyy @wormy-loves-ch33se @mystical-magical-me @king-ofthe-crop @xeno-graphical @malfoy-lu  @rodolphus-le-strange @averykissableguy @fire-allayer @poison-penmanship @lifeofthe-barty @whokilledevanrosier @pandoras-nox @little-king-official @cas-not-the-band @marls-mckinn0n @hjonesworld @mary-mcdeal @emmelineandhervans @sybill-patricia-trelawney @lilytheginger @alicethekindone @flowers-of-narcissus @andromedashoax @the-queen-bellatrix @severusprince-snape @fabian-with-an-f @mollberryshortcake @fawningamos @k1ndest-keeper @aelius-with-a-quill @annajohn-silvae @adam-lukas-morningstar @imogenmorningstar @oxxen--free @camille-laurier @luciagraham @your-favourite-callie @addison-caddel @daughter-of-spring @magandang-kaluluwa @flyasaphoenix @tjsinclairofficial @secretlifeof-asher @toby-newtman-tics @bones-and-edgar @ted-the-teddy-tonks @scattered-across-thesky @alectocrow 

@voldemortscult @student-quibbles @hogwartsstudentconfidential

[danco110]

“What on earth is that gaudy thing!”

“Our…ride to the wedding hall.”

Olivia Voldaren cackled madly as she circled the ornate wedding carriage. A disgruntled Edgar Markov trailed behind her, not-so-subtly gesturing to the open door for his fiancée to climb aboard, but to no avail.

“Oh, it’s just…it’s…”

Edgar suppressed a small, surprisingly proud smile as he explained, “My knights were unfamiliar with such construction, more used to building fortifications. But I would say they performed quite admirably for a first-”

“Just horrid!”

“…Oh.”

Olivia lashed out with a supernaturally powerful kick, effortlessly shattering one of the carriage’s wheels and tipping it over. “I’m glad we won’t be living together, if this is your idea of decoration. I mean really, gold-plated skulls? With no leftover flesh to speak of? So last century!”

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t much matter how it looks, seeing as how this is purely a political affair,” Edgar grumbled, his little goodwill already evaporated.

“Oh, but it does matter! After all, what’s the point of ruling over Innistrad with an iron fist, if we can’t do it elegantly, and fashionably too?”

“Ruling. That’s the point.”

Olivia waved a dismissive claw. “Oh, nonsense. Now, send for my carriage. It’ll put yours to shame, you’ll see.”

“‘Your’ carriage?”

—

“…And you worry about aesthetics?”

Edgar gawked at the thing pulling to a stop before him. An amalgamation of bones, sharpened into spikes, formed the rough shape of a carriage. The jaw of some monstrous creature formed a figurehead of sorts, which Olivia posed next to with her fangs bared.

“A little commission I placed with those twin ghoulcallers. They wouldn’t admit it, but I think they enjoyed collaborating on this. And you can tell, such love poured into their craft. Now, the wedding awaits! Coming, Edgar, darling?”

The groom opened the skeletal door and paused. He glanced over at Olivia, who was still grinning ferociously, and breathed a deep sigh.

“It’ll be worth it.”

[respirgender]

Halloweeniden

Description: A xeniden related to, based on, or connected in some way to Halloween.

Colours: Black, orange, purple, green, and any other colours one may associate with Halloween.

Themes and aesthetics: Trick or treating, autumn/fall, trees losing their leaves, being scared and scaring others, watching horror movies, haunted houses, bats, black cats, spiders, eating candy, pumpkins and jack-o'-lanterns, witches, vampires, ghosts and ghouls, zombies, skeletons, carving pumpkins, hanging out with friends, dressing up in costumes, Halloween parties, darkness and nighttime, the full moon, graveyards, nostalgia

Name ideas: Autumn, Maple, Mabel, Ambrose, Jack, Jackson, Anabelle, Samara, October, Edgar, Blair, Raven, Ravenna, Luna, Rosemary, Freddy, Helena, Michael, Edward, Jason, Salem, Elvira, Victor/Viktor, Eve, Sabrina, Carrie, Laurie, Ivy, Elizabeth, Simon, Sidney, Samantha, Norman, Patrick, Ed, Todd, Pamela, Amanda, Olivia, Lila, Sally, Nancy, Onyx, Jett, Dracula, Casper, Frankie, Pumpkin, Twilight, Spirit, Daphne, Vampira, Dexter, Ash, Birch, Nutmeg, Lenore, Caroline, Coraline, Reese, Mary, Octavia, Frank, Toby, Matilda, Adam, Ann, Trick, Trixie, Hal, Hazel, Sally, Amber, Rowan, Aspen, Allan/Alan, Evelyn, Heather, Lucy, Jamie, Jinx, Thorn, Ebony, Vlad, Igor

Pronoun ideas: pumpkin/pumpkins, spooky/spookys, hallow/hallows, halloween/halloweens, candy/candys, trick/tricks, treat/treats, scare/scares, bat/bats, were/weres, werewolf/werewolfs, howl/howls, vamp/vamps, horror/horrors, fall/falls, autumn/autumns, fright/frights, blood/bloods, night/nights, haunt/haunts, haunted/haunteds, tomb/tombs, costume/costumes, cat/cats, eve/eves, ghost/ghosts, zomb/zombs, zombie/zombies, bite/bites, jack/jacks, carve/carves, witch/witches, broom/brooms, broomstick/broomsticks, sweet/sweets, growl/growls, scream/screams, terror/terrors, web/webs, cobweb/cobwebs, spider/spiders, bone/bones, skull/skulls, grave/graves, ghoul/ghouls, fall/falls, october/octobers, 🎃/🎃s, 🍂/🍂s, 🍁/🍁s, 🦇/🦇s, 🐈‍⬛/🐈‍⬛s, 🐈/🐈s, 🐱/🐱s, 🍭/🍭s, 🍬/🍬s, 🍫/🍫s, 🌙/🌙s, 🌕/🌕s, 😱/😱s, 💀/💀s, 🦴/🦴s, ☠️/☠️s, 👻/👻s, 🦉/🦉s, 🕷️/🕷️s, 🕸️/🕸️s, 🎭/🎭s, 🕯️/🕯️s, 🗡️/🗡️s, 🔪/🔪s, ⚔️/⚔️s, 🪓/🪓s, ⚰️/⚰️s, ⛓️/⛓️s, 🖤/🖤s, 🧡/🧡s, 💚/💚s, 💜/💜s, 🩸/🩸s, 🪦/🪦s, 🥧/🥧s, 🧹/🧹s, 🧟/🧟s, 🧛/🧛s

Music ideas: Halloween music, horror movie/game soundtracks, the Misfits, Creature Feature, Rob Zombie

Related terms: Autumniden / Falliden

[oddlies]

writer aesthetics | sketch edition !

bold what always applies - italicize what sometimes applies

john keats:

the lavender in sunsets, flowers in the rain, sunlight slipping through clouds, lazy summer afternoons, the heavy scent of musk, flickering candlelight reflecting off the gold titles of books, fireflies on a cool summer night, being wrapped in fresh bedsheets, the ache of wanting what you can never have, dripping sunlight like gold, loving someone so exquisite, soft lips and soft whispers, fingers through hair, names of lovers carved in trees, broken glass, the insistence of being perpetually dreamy.

f. scott fitzgerald:

mahogany wood, crisp winter skies with cold bright stars, the solitude of an early autumn morning wrapped in fog, empty bottles on stacks and stacks of books haphazardly placed in a messy room, pale bruised arms reaching out into the darkness, cigarette smoke just barely hiding the scent of alcohol, a wall of books all poetry and old and weathered, a bad thunderstorm occurring at the end of a beautiful day, the way tragedy strikes in your heart but ends up stopping your breathing for a moment, your favorite sweater, parties spilling into four a.m. with the stars above spinning and dancing ,the contrast of blood against snow, a purple split lip oozing blood, black eyes fading to blue to pale skin, the butterflies of falling in love for the first time, the statues falling apart over time in cemeteries, the romanticization of self-destruction

franz kafka:

the weight of dread that sits heavily in your stomach when thinking about the future, decrepit houses cloaked in mystery from children telling stories of people who died there, the way not even light can escape a black hole, the rich smell of old books,delicate veins in the wrist, ghosts filling lungs, shattered bones, raindrops on the tongue, rusting metal, nostalgia that aches, the way hope feels like a plastic bag over your head

h.p. lovecraft:

the anxiety felt when staring into an unknown cave, pouring rain and mud, a child’s fear of the dark, thinking so many questions about your existence as you stare at the vast expanse of never ending ocean, the silence of three a.m., danse macabre by camille saint-saens playing on a record in an empty house, the possibility of aliens and the weird feeling it gives you that you can’t explain, unexplainable phenomena, strange lights in the sky in the dead of night, ouija boards and urban legends

jack kerouac:

the brisk pine air of being on a mountain, travels without a destination, those nights where you’re missing three hours of memory, screaming to a lifeless desert about how you’re so alive, coffee shops late at night, car rides at night spent speeding and laughing in the dark, naps spent in the sun, novels highlighted and underlined with notes and epiphanies in the margins, the way uncertainty sits on the shoulders, ignoring flaws and loving life, wind through hair, depression as fog in the brain, impossible ideals, a quiet sunrise,walks alone, when you think about trying to discover all the secrets to the universe,dazzling people, open lands stretching out into infinity, falling in love with being alive

edgar allan poe:

the ocean’s horizon inseparable from fog, hollow bones, a preserved heart held in hands, twinkling stars above an old graveyard, the way everything turns to dust, silent black birds with eyes full of wisdom, self-inflicted flames, perfection depicted as a rotting corpse,death as bricks in the heart, lips barely brushing against each other, glassy glazed eyes, biting into a lemon, heart-shaped bruises, rotting flowers on a grave, dried blood and spilled liquor, the hush of dusk when it begins raining, the intimacy of a secret

tagged by: stolen't from @kissmedcadly <333

tagging: you!!!!

[bucketkicked]

writer aesthetics | irene edition

bold what always applies - italicize what sometimes applies

john keats:

the lavender in sunsets, flowers in the rain, sunlight slipping through clouds, lazy summer afternoons, the heavy scent of musk, flickering candlelight reflecting off the gold titles of books, fireflies on a cool summer night, being wrapped in fresh bedsheets, the ache of wanting what you can never have, dripping sunlight like gold, loving someone so exquisite, soft lips and soft whispers, fingers through hair, names of lovers carved in trees, broken glass, the insistence of being perpetually dreamy.

f. scott fitzgerald:

mahogany wood, crisp winter skies with cold bright stars, the solitude of an early autumn morning wrapped in fog, empty bottles on stacks and stacks of books haphazardly placed in a messy room, pale bruised arms reaching out into the darkness, cigarette smoke just barely hiding the scent of alcohol, a wall of books all poetry and old and weathered, a bad thunderstorm occurring at the end of a beautiful day, the way tragedy strikes in your heart but ends up stopping your breathing for a moment, your favorite sweater, parties spilling into four a.m. with the stars above spinning and dancing, the contrast of blood against snow, a purple split lip oozing blood, black eyes fading to blue to pale skin, the butterflies of falling in love for the first time, the statues falling apart over time in cemeteries, the romanticization of self-destruction

franz kafka:

the weight of dread that sits heavily in your stomach when thinking about the future, decrepit houses cloaked in mystery from children telling stories of people who died there, the way not even light can escape a black hole, the rich smell of old books, delicate veins in the wrist, ghosts filling lungs, shattered bones, raindrops on the tongue, rusting metal,nostalgia that aches, the way hope feels like a plastic bag over your head

h.p. lovecraft:

the anxiety felt when staring into an unknown cave, pouring rain and mud, a child’s fear of the dark, thinking so many questions about your existence as you stare at the vast expanse of never ending ocean, the silence of three a.m., danse macabre by camille saint-saens playing on a record in an empty house, the possibility of aliens and the weird feeling it gives you that you can’t explain, unexplainable phenomena, strange lights in the sky in the dead of night, ouija boards and urban legends

jack kerouac:

the brisk pine air of being on a mountain, travels without a destination, those nights where you’re missing three hours of memory, screaming to a lifeless desert about how you’re so alive, coffee shops late at night, car rides at night spent speeding and laughing in the dark, naps spent in the sun, novels highlighted and underlined with notes and epiphanies in the margins, the way uncertainty sits on the shoulders, ignoring flaws and loving life, wind through hair, depression as fog in the brain, impossible ideals, a quiet sunrise,walks alone, when you think about trying to discover all the secrets to the universe,dazzling people, open lands stretching out into infinity, falling in love with being alive

edgar allan poe:

the ocean’s horizon inseparable from fog, hollow bones, a preserved heart held in hands, twinkling stars above an old graveyard, the way everything turns to dust, silent black birds with eyes full of wisdom, self-inflicted flames, perfection depicted as a rotting corpse, death as bricks in the heart, lips barely brushing against each other, glassy glazed eyes, biting into a lemon, heart-shaped bruises, rotting flowers on a grave, dried blood and spilled liquor, the hush of dusk when it begins raining, the intimacy of a secret

tagged by: i stole it from another one of my blogs >:)

tagging: you!!!!

[sifonie]

writer aesthetics

bold what always applies - italicize what sometimes applies

john keats:

the lavender in sunsets, flowers in the rain, sunlight slipping through clouds, lazy summer afternoons, the heavy scent of musk, flickering candlelight reflecting off the gold titles of books, fireflies on a cool summer night, being wrapped in fresh bedsheets, the ache of wanting what you can never have, dripping sunlight like gold, loving someone so exquisite,soft lips and soft whispers, fingers through hair, names of lovers carved in trees, broken glass, the insistence of being perpetually dreamy.

f. scott fitzgerald:

mahogany wood, crisp winter skies with cold bright stars, the solitude of an early autumn morning wrapped in fog, empty bottles on stacks and stacks of books haphazardly placed in a messy room, pale bruised arms reaching out into the darkness,cigarette smoke just barely hiding the scent of alcohol, a wall of books all poetry and old and weathered, a bad thunderstorm occurring at the end of a beautiful day, the way tragedy strikes in your heart but ends up stopping your breathing for a moment, your favorite sweater, parties spilling into four a.m. with the stars above spinning and dancing,the contrast of blood against snow, a purple split lip oozing blood, black eyes fading to blue to pale skin, the butterflies of falling in love for the first time, the statues falling apart over time in cemeteries, the romanticization of self-destruction

franz kafka:

the weight of dread that sits heavily in your stomach when thinking about the future,decrepit houses cloaked in mystery from children telling stories of people who died there, the way not even light can escape a black hole, the rich smell of old books,delicate veins in the wrist, ghosts filling lungs, shattered bones, raindrops on the tongue, rusting metal,nostalgia that aches, the way hope feels like a plastic bag over your head

h.p. lovecraft:

the anxiety felt when staring into an unknown cave, pouring rain and mud, a child’s fear of the dark, thinking so many questions about your existence as you stare at the vast expanse of never ending ocean, the silence of three a.m., danse macabre by camille saint-saens playing on a record in an empty house, the possibility of aliens and the weird feeling it gives you that you can’t explain, unexplainable phenomena, strange lights in the sky in the dead of night, ouija boards and urban legends

jack kerouac:

the brisk pine air of being on a mountain, travels without a destination, those nights where you’re missing three hours of memory, screaming to a lifeless desert about how you’re so alive, coffee shops late at night, car rides at night spent speeding and laughing in the dark, naps spent in the sun, novels highlighted and underlined with notes and epiphanies in the margins, the way uncertainty sits on the shoulders, ignoring flaws and loving life, wind through hair, depression as fog in the brain, impossible ideals, a quiet sunrise,walks alone, when you think about trying to discover all the secrets to the universe,dazzling people, open lands stretching out into infinity, falling in love with being alive

edgar allan poe:

the ocean’s horizon inseparable from fog, hollow bones, a preserved heart held in hands, twinkling stars above an old graveyard, the way everything turns to dust, silent black birds with eyes full of wisdom, self-inflicted flames, perfection depicted as a rotting corpse,death as bricks in the heart, lips barely brushing against each other, glassy glazed eyes, biting into a lemon, heart-shaped bruises, rotting flowers on a grave, dried blood and spilled liquor, the hush of dusk when it begins raining, the intimacy of a secret

tagged by: @episomalvector <333

tagging: you!!!!

[rapt-re]

꧁ Intro Post! ꧂

Mainly cos i desire mutuals but hi i’m Devon, I’m 18 and i’m an insufferable teenage girl!!

some fun shit about me:

✵ I’m a massive nerd about everything (mainly music, biology/parasitology, classic literature, old silent films, horror movies)

✵ My main interests with this blog are photography, media discussion, art and just posting into the void

✵DNIs: any graphic edblr/shblr (i’m in recovery), no TCC let me like KMFDM and 90s counterculture shit in PEACE i can and will block u

✵ I’ve been on tumblr on and off since I was 12, so i’ve been here in some form for 6 years but this acc is pretty new :)

✵ My favourite animals are cats, but i also love silky anteaters, pangolins, armadillos and spiders!

✵ I love gothic western, ‘morute,’ sometimes coquettish aesthetics!!

✵ My parents are british and french but i was raised in new jersey and now study in england! i speak some french but not too well :/

✵ My favourite authors are Oscar Wilde, Ottessa Moshfegh, Edgar Allan Poe, Shirley Jackson, Daphne du Maurier, Jeanette Winterson and Sylvia Plath

✵ I also love Shakespeare

✵ I’m obsessed with vintage shit and I’ve got a small collection of vintage porcelain dolls (the oldest of which is from the 1910s)!! I also have a collection of vintage teacups, and replica antique guns

✵ I love music!! so much!! my favourite bands include:

Skinny Puppy, KMFDM, Nine Inch Nails, Cubanate, Leæther Strip, PIG, Genitortuters, X, Killing Joke, The Cure, Bauhaus, Mudhoney, Joy Division, Air, Sleater-Kinney, Sonic Youth, Hole, Black Sabbath, The Cramps, Kittie, Pixies, Babes in Toyland, Corpore, Garbage, London After Midnight, Alien Sex Fiend, Soft Cell. I also love theatre and musical theatre, i’ve worked as a techie in a bunch of hs productions

✵ some of my favourite movies are:

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, The Fly, Hellraiser, Le Viol du Vampire, Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Suspiria, Natural Born Killers, Paris Texas, Reservoir Dogs, Buffalo ‘66, Bones and All, Shutter Island, Inglorious Bastards, The Lost Boys, A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night, Martyrs, The House That Jack Built, the ‘Firefly’ film series, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Desperado, There Will Be Blood

✵I’m an amateur taxidermist (as a hobby, definitely not career or commission standard)

✵random misc shit: i’m 4ft 9 (i hate it), i know how to ride horses pretty well and grew up around them, i’m getting a degree in biochemistry, i have a pet frog + a lurcher (technically, when im not at uni they live with my parents!), i’ve broken both of my legs 3 times so far, i get nosebleeds a lot

[juicydangler]

for your halloween playlist consideration:

The Man with X-Ray Eyes by Bauhaus, inspired by the 1963 science fiction horror film X: The Man with the X-ray Eyes

I Was a Teenage Werewolf by The Cramps, inspired by the 1957 science fiction horror film of the same name

Lotion by the Greenskeepers, inspired by the 1991 psychological horror film The Silence of the Lambs

How Do by Sneaker Pimps, inspired by the 1973 folk horror film The Wicker Man

Nosferatu by Blue Öyster Cult, inspired by the 1922 silent horror film of the same name

Frankenstein by Rock Bottom, inspired by the 1931 horror film of the same name

Frankenstein Rock by Eddie Thomas, about taking a date to see horror movies

Nasty by The Damned, about horror movies on VHS

Bela Lugosi's Dead by Bauhaus, about legendary actor Bela Lugosi not being alive anymore

Boris the Spider by The Who, about a spider called Boris

October Funeral by The Cemetery Boys, about a funeral in October

Cemetery Gates by Pantera, about the struggle to let go when someone you love dies

Cemetery Girl by ICP, about the struggle to let go when someone you love dies

Dig Up Her Bones by the Misfits, about the struggle to let go when someone you love dies

L.I.C.H. by Ginny Di, about a lady who doesn't want to die

Party In the Graveyard by Ghost Town, about knowing you will die and having a silly little time with it

thegraveneverfeltsonice by aWannabe, about knowing you will die and lowkey looking forward to it

Spirit Got Lost by Mental As Anything, about being dead and ambivalent about it

Zombie Crew by Send More Paramedics, about being a punk rock zombie

Nobody Likes You (When You're Dead) by Zombina and the Skeletones, about the social challenges faced by a young zombie

Re: Your Brains by Jonathan Coulton, about the social challenges faced by a white collar zombie

Mad Professor by ICP, about making friends

Ur-Ur-Enkel von Frankenstein by Frank Zander, about making friends (in German)

Hex So Heavy by Bambie Thug, about revenge, and how two enemies used to be friends

Nightmare by Brainbug, spooky techno instrumental

The Dead Eyes Opened (1994 remix) by Severed Heads, inspired by reporting around the real life 1924 murder of Emily Kaye

A Forest by The Cure, about a spooky forest

The Greatest Show Unearthed by Creature Feature, about a spooky carnival

Scaretale by Nightwish, about a spooky fairy tale carnival

Bury a Friend by Billie Eilish, about the POV of the monster under the bed

Boogie Woogie Wu by ICP, about the POV of the boogie man

Sunglasses at Night by Corey Hart, not about vampires (unless sound engineers count) but really kinda sounds like it is

I.C.U. by Caligula, about vampires

Night of the Vampire by Roky Erickson and The Aliens, about vampires

Transylvanian Concubine by Rasputina, about vampires

Vampires In Love by Marvelous 3, about vampires (in love)

Danse Vampyr by Inkubus Sukkubus, about vampires (horny)

We Suck Young Blood by Radiohead, about vampires but only as a metaphor

Teeth by Lady Gaga, about sex but sounds like it could be about vampires or maybe werewolves

Bare Your Teeth by Ashbury Heights, about going feral werewolf style

The Ones by Aesthetic Perfection, about nightmare creatures stealing teeth

Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde by the Damned, inspired by the 1886 Gothic novella The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson

Nevermore by The Cemetery Boys, about the life and works of Edgar Allan Poe

Graveyard Picnic by Voltaire, about the life and works of Edgar Allan Poe

Mr Raven by MC Lars, based on the poem The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe

Legs and Tarpaulin by Cinema Strange, inspired by the story King Pest by Edgar Allan Poe

Pet Sematary by Ramones, written during a visit to the home of Stephen King and inspired by his 1983 horror novel of the same name

Cemetery by Silverchair, about ennui

Living Dead by Marina and the Diamonds, about ennui

Living Dead by Discordia, about being a disenfranchised young person (I think)

Black No. 1 by Type O Negative, about a goth gf

Release the Bats by The Birthday Party, about a goth gf

Tombstone by Peaches, probably about sex somehow lbr it's Peaches, but sounds like it could be about a goth gf

Every Day Is Halloween by Ministry, about being a goth

I Can Tell You Shop At Hot(t) Topic by The Gothsicles, about seeing a goth

You've Been GOTH BLOCKED by Stevie Ryan, about seeing too many goths

Mephiskapheles by Mephiskapheles, about what if Satan played ska

Des Satans liebster Klingelton by Soko Friedhof, about what if Satan sold ringtones (in German)

Janet's Potato Salad by Cupcake Television, about what if Satanists held a potluck

Satan by Orbital and Kirk Hammett, not about anything just a guy yelling Satan a lot (it's a sample of Gibby Haynes of Butthole Surfers from the song Sweat Loaf but let's not get bogged down in details here)

Creep in the Cellar by Butthole Surfers, about a weird scary guy

Abwärts-Nick Nack Man Now by Frank Zander, about being a weird scary guy (in German)

Gravedigger by MXMS, about being a weird scary girl

Innsmouth by Aural Vampire, about being a weird scary girl (in Japanese)

When You're Evil by Voltaire, about being an evil guy and having a silly little time with it

Skullcrusher Mountain by Jonathan Coulton, about being an evil guy and having an unrequited crush

Frankenstein Rock by Peter Thomas (no relation), about a scary guy called Frankenstein and the creepy parties he throws (in German)

HAUNT ME by Johnny Goth, about hoping to be haunted, sexually

Ghost of a Texas Ladies' Man by Concrete Blonde, about being haunted, sexually

Ghost Story by Charming Disaster, about being haunted, sexually

One Second Ghost by The Gothsicles, about retro video gaming

Flying Saucer Boogie by Eddie Cletro, about UFO sightings

Unmarked Helicopters by Soul Coughing (from The X-Files S04E18), about UFO conspiracies

Can't Get Abducted E.T. Don't Dig Me Blues by Bruce Brown, about getting swerved by aliens

Bugs by Pearl Jam, about being overwhelmed by bugs

March of the Sinister Ducks by The Sinister Ducks, about how ducks are sinister

the entire 1998 album Hellbilly Deluxe: 13 Tales of Cadaverous Cavorting Inside the Spookshow International by Rob Zombie

literally anything other than Zombie by the Cranberries

[ragedagainst]

CLASSICAL WRITER AESTHETICS

BOLD OR COLORIZE THE AESTHETICS THAT ALWAYS APPLY TO YOUR MUSE, ITALICIZE THE AESTHETICS THAT SOMETIMES APPLY TO YOUR MUSE, AND STRIKE THROUGH THE AESTHETICS THAT WILL NEVER APPLY TO YOUR MUSE.

JOHN KEATS. the lavender in sunsets, flowers in the rain, sunlight slipping through clouds, lazy summer afternoons, flickering candlelight reflecting off the gold titles of books, fireflies on a cool summer night, being wrapped in fresh bed sheets, the ache of wanting what you can never have, dripping sunlight like gold, loving someone so exquisite, soft lips and soft whispers, fingers through hair, names of lovers carved in trees, broken glass, the insistence of being perpetually dreamy.

F. SCOTT FITZGERALD. crisp winter skies with cold bright stars, mahogany wood, the solitude of an early autumn morning wrapped in fog, empty bottles on stacks and stacks of books haphazardly placed in a messy room, pale bruised arms reaching out into the darkness, cigarette smoke just barely hiding the scent of alcohol, a wall of books all poetry and old and weathered, a bad thunderstorm occurring at the end of a beautiful day, the way tragedy strikes in your heart but ends up stopping your breathing for a moment, your favorite sweater, parties spilling into four a.m. with the stars above spinning and dancing, the contrast of blood against snow, a purple split lip oozing blood, black eyes fading to blue to pale skin, the butterflies of falling in love for the first time, the statues falling apart over time in cemeteries, the romanticization of self-destruction.

FRANZ KAFKA. the weight of dread that sits heavily in your stomach when thinking about the future, decrepit houses cloaked in mystery from children telling stories of people who died there, the way not even light can escape a black hole, the rich smell of old books, delicate veins in the wrist, ghosts filling lungs, shattered bones, raindrops on the tongue, rusting metal, nostalgia that aches, the way hope feels like a plastic bag over your head.

H.P. LOVECRAFT. the anxiety felt when staring into an unknown cave, pouring rain and mud, a child’s fear of the dark, thinking so many questions about your existence as you stare at the vast expanse of never-ending ocean, the silence of three a.m., danse macabre by camille saint-saens playing on a record in an empty house, the possibility of aliens and the weird feeling it gives you that you can’t explain, unexplainable phenomena, strange lights in the sky in the dead of night, ouija boards and urban legends.

JACK KEROUAC. the brisk pine air of being on a mountain, travels without a destination, those nights where you’re missing three hours of memory, screaming to a lifeless desert about how you’re so alive, coffee shops late at night, chocobo rides at night spent speeding and laughing in the dark, naps spent in the sun, novels highlighted and underlined with notes and epiphanies in the margins, the way uncertainty sits on the shoulders, ignoring flaws and loving life, wind through hair, depression as fog in the brain, impossible ideals, a quiet sunrise, walks alone, when you think about trying to discover all the secrets to the universe, dazzling people, open lands stretching out into infinity, falling in love with being alive.

EDGAR ALLAN POE. the ocean’s horizon inseparable from fog, hollow bones, a preserved heart held in hands, twinkling stars above an old graveyard, the way everything turns to dust, silent black birds with eyes full of wisdom, self-inflicted flames, perfection depicted as a rotting corpse, death as bricks in the heart, lips barely brushing against each other, glassy glazed eyes, biting into a lemon, heart-shaped bruises, rotting flowers on a grave, dried blood and spilled liquor, the hush of dusk when it begins raining, the intimacy of a secret.

tagged : @debelltio thank you !! tagging : @chth0nia , @wtrss , @sherez , @priestbit , @guttcrson , @dweomerr ( for lei! ) , @proditeur , and you !!

[nixie-deangel]

tagged by @partialtotheperiwinkleblue <3

(answering this super late!)

nickname: Nixie, Pluto and variations of my name.

zodiac sign: Aries

height: 5'0, 152.5cm

last thing I googled: what my height was in cm lol

amount of sleep: anywhere between 2-10 hours, it really depends on how well I sleep and if my brain doesn't keep me up.

dream job: probably a researcher of some kind? like, I love diving into things. otherwise maybe pastry chef or personal chef.

movie/book that describes you the most: Movies that I maybe shouldn't have gotten to watch as a child but did, that definitely formed how my brain works today - Rocky Horror Picture Show, To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar, Man On Fire and Gone In 60 Seconds.

fav song: this literally varies hourly for me. right now, for reasons I couldn't explain, it's texas tea by post malone (yesterday it waffled between great balls of fire by jerry lee lewis and something in the orange by zach bryan)

fav instrument: piano

fav aesthetic: comfy? is comfy considered an aesthetic? if not... probably somewhere between pastel goth and cottage core.

fav author: I.....don't think I actually have one but if I'm pressed to pick, I'd probably go with either Tolkien or Edgar Allen Poe.

random fun fact: I've never broken a bone and I've been hit by a car and gotten into an ATV accident.

tagging: @mxopifex, @trickythedino, @violetfairydust, @endwersed, @fuinixe, @starshipcecil, @dreaminghour, @iam93percentstardust and whoever else would like to do this! <3

[edgarebones]

Edgar Bones Aesthetic

[controlsnature]

CLASSICAL WRITER AESTHETICS

BOLD OR COLORIZE THE AESTHETICS THAT ALWAYS APPLY TO YOUR MUSE, ITALICIZE THE AESTHETICS THAT SOMETIMES APPLY TO YOUR MUSE, AND STRIKE THROUGH THE AESTHETICS THAT WILL NEVER APPLY TO YOUR MUSE.

JOHN KEATS. the lavender in sunsets, flowers in the rain, sunlight slipping through clouds, lazy summer afternoons, flickering candlelight reflecting off the gold titles of books, fireflies on a cool summer night, being wrapped in fresh bed sheets, the ache of wanting what you can never have, dripping sunlight like gold, loving someone so exquisite, soft lips and soft whispers, fingers through hair, names of lovers carved in trees, broken glass, the insistence of being perpetually dreamy.

F. SCOTT FITZGERALD. crisp winter skies with cold bright stars, mahogany wood, the solitude of an early autumn morning wrapped in fog, empty bottles on stacks and stacks of books haphazardly placed in a messy room, pale bruised arms reaching out into the darkness, cigarette smoke just barely hiding the scent of alcohol, a wall of books all poetry and old and weathered, a bad thunderstorm occurring at the end of a beautiful day, the way tragedy strikes in your heart but ends up stopping your breathing for a moment, your favorite sweater, parties spilling into four a.m. with the stars above spinning and dancing, the contrast of blood against snow, a purple split lip oozing blood, black eyes fading to blue to pale skin, the butterflies of falling in love for the first time, the statues falling apart over time in cemeteries, the romanticization of self-destruction.

FRANZ KAFKA. the weight of dread that sits heavily in your stomach when thinking about the future, decrepit houses cloaked in mystery from children telling stories of people who died there, the way not even light can escape a black hole, the rich smell of old books, delicate veins in the wrist, ghosts filling lungs, shattered bones, raindrops on the tongue, rusting metal, nostalgia that aches, the way hope feels like a plastic bag over your head.

H.P. LOVECRAFT. the anxiety felt when staring into an unknown cave, pouring rain and mud, a child’s fear of the dark, thinking so many questions about your existence as you stare at the vast expanse of never-ending ocean, the silence of three a.m., danse macabre by camille saint-saens playing on a record in an empty house, the possibility of aliens and the weird feeling it gives you that you can’t explain, unexplainable phenomena, strange lights in the sky in the dead of night, ouija boards and urban legends.

JACK KEROUAC. the brisk pine air of being on a mountain, travels without a destination, those nights where you’re missing three hours of memory, screaming to a lifeless desert about how you’re so alive, coffee shops late at night, chocobo rides at night spent speeding and laughing in the dark, naps spent in the sun, novels highlighted and underlined with notes and epiphanies in the margins, the way uncertainty sits on the shoulders, ignoring flaws and loving life, wind through hair, depression as fog in the brain, impossible ideals, a quiet sunrise, walks alone, when you think about trying to discover all the secrets to the universe, dazzling people, open lands stretching out into infinity, falling in love with being alive.

EDGAR ALLAN POE. the ocean’s horizon inseparable from fog, hollow bones, a preserved heart held in hands, twinkling stars above an old graveyard, the way everything turns to dust, silent black birds with eyes full of wisdom, self-inflicted flames, perfection depicted as a rotting corpse, death as bricks in the heart, lips barely brushing against each other, glassy glazed eyes, biting into a lemon, heart-shaped bruises, rotting flowers on a grave, dried blood and spilled liquor, the hush of dusk when it begins raining, the intimacy of a secret.

TAGGED: STOLEN FROM: @frxncaise

TAGGING : @mccnduzt, @taughtdivinity, @stcrgirl, @lovehungered, and anyone else that sees this

[frxncaise]

CLASSICAL WRITER AESTHETICS

BOLD OR COLORIZE THE AESTHETICS THAT ALWAYS APPLY TO YOUR MUSE, ITALICIZE THE AESTHETICS THAT SOMETIMES APPLY TO YOUR MUSE, AND STRIKE THROUGH THE AESTHETICS THAT WILL NEVER APPLY TO YOUR MUSE.

JOHN KEATS. the lavender in sunsets, flowers in the rain, sunlight slipping through clouds, lazy summer afternoons, flickering candlelight reflecting off the gold titles of books, fireflies on a cool summer night, being wrapped in fresh bed sheets, the ache of wanting what you can never have, dripping sunlight like gold, loving someone so exquisite, soft lips and soft whispers, fingers through hair, names of lovers carved in trees, broken glass, the insistence of being perpetually dreamy.

F. SCOTT FITZGERALD. crisp winter skies with cold bright stars, mahogany wood, the solitude of an early autumn morning wrapped in fog, empty bottles on stacks and stacks of books haphazardly placed in a messy room, pale bruised arms reaching out into the darkness, cigarette smoke just barely hiding the scent of alcohol, a wall of books all poetry and old and weathered, a bad thunderstorm occurring at the end of a beautiful day, the way tragedy strikes in your heart but ends up stopping your breathing for a moment, your favorite sweater, parties spilling into four a.m. with the stars above spinning and dancing, the contrast of blood against snow, a purple split lip oozing blood, black eyes fading to blue to pale skin, the butterflies of falling in love for the first time, the statues falling apart over time in cemeteries, the romanticization of self-destruction.

FRANZ KAFKA. the weight of dread that sits heavily in your stomach when thinking about the future, decrepit houses cloaked in mystery from children telling stories of people who died there, the way not even light can escape a black hole, the rich smell of old books, delicate veins in the wrist, ghosts filling lungs, shattered bones, raindrops on the tongue, rusting metal, nostalgia that aches, the way hope feels like a plastic bag over your head.

H.P. LOVECRAFT. the anxiety felt when staring into an unknown cave, pouring rain and mud, a child’s fear of the dark, thinking so many questions about your existence as you stare at the vast expanse of never-ending ocean, the silence of three a.m., danse macabre by camille saint-saens playing on a record in an empty house, the possibility of aliens and the weird feeling it gives you that you can’t explain, unexplainable phenomena, strange lights in the sky in the dead of night, ouija boards and urban legends.

JACK KEROUAC. the brisk pine air of being on a mountain, travels without a destination, those nights where you’re missing three hours of memory, screaming to a lifeless desert about how you’re so alive, coffee shops late at night, chocobo rides at night spent speeding and laughing in the dark, naps spent in the sun, novels highlighted and underlined with notes and epiphanies in the margins, the way uncertainty sits on the shoulders, ignoring flaws and loving life, wind through hair, depression as fog in the brain, impossible ideals, a quiet sunrise, walks alone, when you think about trying to discover all the secrets to the universe, dazzling people, open lands stretching out into infinity, falling in love with being alive.

EDGAR ALLAN POE. the ocean’s horizon inseparable from fog, hollow bones, a preserved heart held in hands, twinkling stars above an old graveyard, the way everything turns to dust, silent black birds with eyes full of wisdom, self-inflicted flames, perfection depicted as a rotting corpse, death as bricks in the heart, lips barely brushing against each other, glassy glazed eyes, biting into a lemon, heart-shaped bruises, rotting flowers on a grave, dried blood and spilled liquor, the hush of dusk when it begins raining, the intimacy of a secret.

`➠⠀:⠀⠀ ACQUIRED FROM :⠀⠀@prodijedi

TAGGING : @historiavn @thewalkingmouthdavey @amillixnvoices and anyone else BE GAY DO CRIME

[fcrox]

I simply have to believe that taking a deep breath has to be enough; that, and to think of a new solution, a new path. Walks by the beach do not leave footprints and yet they have happened. I will take that as inspiration.

✧ threads ✧ about ✧ headcanon ✧ the mail ✧ ✧ aesthetics ✧ musings ✧ connections ✧ mirror ✧

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME: Hestia Abella Jones

ALIAS/NICKNAME: Hes (mainly, she prefers her full name), Jonesie, Tia, Jones, Abby

AGE: Twenty Seven

BIRTH DATE: March 17th, 1952

BLOOD STATUS: Pureblood

AFFILIATION: Order of the Phoenix

GENDER/PRONOUNS: Cis-Woman. She/her

CURRENT LIVING CONDITIONS: Cottage in Feldcroft, Scotland (south of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade)

OCCUPATION: Auror, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Ministry of Magic

PETS: Sebastian (burrowing owl), Leda (australian mist cat)

WAND: Acacia wood with a phoenix feather core, 10", quite flexible flexibility

PATRONUS: Badger

BOGGART: being lost in darkness and thus unable to help those she loves

AMORTENTIA: Unknown

SCENT: Freshly mown grass and flowers, steaming tea, raspberry candy

INSPIRATION

SONG: Dance the Night by Dua Lipa, Can't be tamed by Zara Larsson, Hero by Faouzia, Team by Lorde, Miracle by Sia, Original by Sia

PINTEREST: here !! (currently in the making)

AESTHETIC: the sounds of birds chirping in the morning sun, the warmth of a sunrise and the beauty of a sunset, the flow of time, a happy laughter, quills scratching on parchment, the soft sound of rain, a spring's bloom, cherry blossoms and apple trees, the strength of an oak tree, long walks by the beach, the rush of the oceans waves as they crash onto the shore, seagull soaring through the clouds, a crackling fire

RELATIONSHIPS

PARENTS: Cassiopeia Jones née MacMillian & Cyrus Maxwell Jones

SIBLINGS: Silas Jones (older brother). Anisa Jones (younger sister).

SIGNIFICANT OTHER: Edgar Bones (arranged).

OTHER FAMILY: None known to her.

CHILDREN: None.

EDUCTATION:

SCHOOL: Hogwarts

HOUSE: Hufflepuff

EXTRACURRICULAR: Herbology Club, Dueling Club, Frog Choir

CLASSES INVESTED IN: Astronomy, Herbology, Defense against the Dark Arts, Charms, Potions, Transfiguration

SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English, Italian

PHYSICAL TRAITS

EYE COLOR: Brown

HAIR COLOR: Brown

HEIGHT: 5′4

SCARS: Back of her neck, covered by her hair most of the time from one of the cases at work that resulted in a duel.

PERSONALITY

INTELLIGENCE: High. Adaptive.

SKILLS: Dueling (advanced), Gardening (dedicated), flying (decent), Transfiguration (decent)

POSITIVE TRAITS: determined, loyal, fiery, caring, kind

NEGATIVE TRAITS: too direct, stubborn, proud,

MBTI: ENFJ

BIOGRAPHY:

Rumor has it the day Hestia Jones opened her eyes to the world was filled with the chirping of birds and clouds ready to be pushed aside by the sun hiding behind it. The mood of that day, the atmosphere all around very much became her personality in the later years. Hestia was the middle child, as just about two years later her younger sister Anisa was born. Despite that their parents dedicated as much of their time to all three children as they possibly could. The family was of pureblood standing yet not one that supported the notion that blood purists kept trying to push on the world. Although her parents made sure to keep a safe distance to voicing their thoughts out loud, anyone that knew them was very much aware of their stance. That did not free the girls from the classic pureblood classes as their mother felt it would help with their education. Of course, her older brother Silas wasn’t entirely free of that either; having to deal with his own share of things to learn, practice and preach.

Three years older than her and five years Anisa’s senior, Silas left for Hogwarts before them. The time without him was so utterly boring as he’d always been the fieriest between them all. With his temper and the teachings of their parents, the fact that he ended up in Gryffindor wasn’t a surprise. Much later, five years to be exact Anisa would follow to become the second lion within their family. In the meantime, Hestia busied herself running around the countryside, more than one dress torn in the middle of it all. Three years after her brother’s departure to Hogwarts the young witch followed, sorted into Hufflepuff as the only one of her family as the rest were scattered between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. The warmest of the five of them, this did not come as a surprise as she had equally been a most hard-working individual.

With Hogwarts came the slow time of growing up; gone the girl that would run across the countryside, dresses ripped on branches and with time the manners she’d always possessed showing. By the time she graduated Hestia Jones had become an accomplished young witch, ready to take on the world. With the war going on outside the walls of the castle, the conflict ever-growing, there was only one path for the then former Hufflepuff. She found herself a spot within the ministry of magic, training as an auror among some of the best. There was determination, and a drive to some good in the world. Over time, with dedication, she not only completed her training as an auror but also began to rise in ranks; not a leader yet far from scared to take charge should the situation call for it. Hestia finally had a place to show just how much she was willing to protect others; to care for them as best as she could.

Whether by chance or fate, a few years later – about a year after she’d graduated from Hogwarts, Hestia’s sister Anisa got engaged and soon after married, having fallen in love madly with someone from Ireland. After that she moved out and the house seemed oh so much emptier. It almost seemed like a sign, with only her parents remaining and her older brother having moved into his own place long ago. The witch found herself a small cottage within one of the Hamlets near Hogwarts, having herself fallen in love with the idyllic atmosphere and the short distance to the beach just south of her little house. It was perfect and calm, the ideal balance between her life as an auror and the calmness that came with the sounds of waves crashing onto the shore. The only thing messing with the lot of it were her parents’ views regarding marriage. While not a family of tradition in the sense of blood purism, they did hold some belief that the future of their children should be theirs to guide. One child had managed to escape those hopes, the other two, so they hoped, would be easier to help along.