whimsigoth

ahhhhhh. WHIMSIGOTH MY BELOVED!

[antiquedeuce]

cabinet of curiosities 🦇

[j-tee]

Ghost bugs

[arcane-trail]

🔮Enchanted & Mystical Shop 🔮

[jinxes-and-onyx]

[xanaxfarts]

Victorian Mourning Jewelry

Often containing hair, teeth, and other physical remains of the dead, these pieces peaked in popularity in the Victorian era. Mourning jewelry is one of earliest sartorial expressions of the gothic romanticism which has defined many famed modern designers, from Alexander McQueen to Ann Demeulemeester to Lieve Van Gorp. The genre is made up of broaches, necklaces, rings, and other adornments meant to celebrate loved ones who had passed away. However, the pieces from that period rather simply served to underscore the concept of "memento mori" ("remember you will die")

[thelittlesupernova]

𖤐•ғᴏʀᴇsᴛ ᴡɪᴛᴄʜ ᴀᴇsᴛʜᴇᴛɪᴄ•𖤐

[glassgrayve]

[trans-severus-snape]

Moon Potion Bottle PNGs

[ur-daily-inspiration]

[isnyr]

Venus Flytrap.

[redlipstickresurrected]

Mind Wanders aka Connor Muskett (Scottish) - A Cold Winters Night, 2020, Photography

[bishiedoll]

妖精王 (Fairy King) by Yamagishi Ryoko, 1977.

[jinxes-and-onyx]

Painting the back of my dream journal

[spiritofthemountainnaturephoto]

The hues of sunset

[frailnbedazzled-deactivated2025]

Madame Moon

Credit: Beverly Parker

[moonlitlycanthropy]

Night’s eerily beautiful, keening song weaved itself through the dense oak trees. Oak trees that stood like sentinels in the night, stoic and looming. The haloed moon, pale and ever-glowing in all her gothic glory, hung low in the midnight-blue sky, haunted by thin, wispy clouds that followed her, worshipped her, like a moth to a flame.

Long, black, wildly untamed hair shone like an oily puddle in the moonlight, sweeping down to the rich soil and dead leaves as she danced and twirled between the trees. Crooked branches snagged and snatched at her pale, soft skin, and gnarled roots clawed at her bare-feet, desperate to assimilate her, to absorb her, to drag her deeper into the depths of the night, into the heart of the forest, where shadows would feast on her flesh, forked tongues delving into the marrow of her bones.

She threw her head back, baring her slender neck to the sky; an offering to the moon. Her arms reached out, as if to embrace the night, her back arching almost painfully. She was a swan, delicate yet powerful, pirouetting into deep, dark water, great white wings beating still. Her lips split, mouth agape with silent surrender, the cold darkness swallowing her voice.

[jinxes-and-onyx]

whisigoth earings

whimsy edition