RUSSIAN CLASSICS AESTHETICS

BOLD whatever applies to / attracts your muse.

BROTHERS KARAMAZOV   :   orthodox monasteries   ,   deep woods   ,  starry nights ,   the sound of paper being torn   ,   dimly lit rooms ,   withered roses   , an unfinished letter   , piles of books   ,   the sound of shattering glass  ,  ticking of clocks in a silent house   ,   heavy wooden furniture  ,   the air before a storm   ,   the smell of earth   ,   a crowd of people dressed in black   ,  distant murmurs   ,  emptied streets  ,   the fear of walking alone in dusk.

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT  :  coldness of the skin against a blade ,  slender pale fingers   &  slightly shaking hands  ,  a red stain blooming on white fabric  ,  lonely steps in a corridor, the slow dripping of water  ,  looking out of the window into the thickening darkness  ,   a single dying candle on the table   ,   listening to one’s breath   &   counting heartbeats  ,   too many stairs   ,   the desire to be invisible   ,   a subtle memory of kind word.

THE IDIOT   :   classical statues  ,   wealth covered with dust  ,   a dark house tainted with inherited madness   ,  an unsettling feeling ,   long walks in a park   ,   useless chatter   ,   a silken ribbon forgotten on a bench   ,   a melancholic face   ,   an unexpected spring rain   ,   the joy of reading one’s favorite book  ,  the clarity of mind after fully perceiving the world around   ,   looking at cloudless sky.

ANNA KARENINA : fields of crops  ,   flowers brought from an early morning walk   ,  the wind caressing a girl’s hair   ,   a bowl of fruit   ,   the smell of ripe pears   ,   the clatter of a spoon against porcelain when stirring tea   ,   children’s laughter coming from the garden   ,   soft sunlight   &   white curtains   ,   the sensation of velvet against skin , pearls from a ripped necklace spilling on marble floor  , a sudden silence in a room full of people.

WAR AND PEACE   :   a glass of wine  ,  the brightness of  a crystal chandelier  ,  white lace   ,   a raging snow storm   ,  the sound of a door being gently closed ,   the moment of holding one’s breath before walking in a ballroom   ,   indulging in looking at a beautiful earring against light   ,   closing one’s eyes for a moment while dancing  ,   the sweet smell of strawberries   ,  a pair of gloves left on an armchair  ,    light scent of powder.

THE MASTER AND MARGARITA   :  the chaos of a lively city  ,   ambient jazz in expensive restaurants  ,   jumping on a moving tram   ,   the sight of moscow from the roof of a house   , yellow flowers in a vase   , leaning out of the window  ,  shelves stacked with books  ,   a small tin box with old photographs , strange shapes in the night sky ,  laughing in the middle of the night on a balcony  ,   colorful posters for a surreptitious magician’s show floating in the wind.

EUGENE ONEGIN   : a lonely mansion  ,   reading a book in the parlor  ,  faint piano melody lingering in falling silence  ,   long evenings   ,   passing seasons   ,   discussing french novels of the moment  ,   unspoken thoughts  ,  leaning against the door frame , quickly averted glance  ,   eating a peach absent-minded  ,   bright mornings   ,  footprints in snow ,   a loud gun-shot terrifying a flock of birds nearby.

FATHERS AND SONS  :   birch groves   , morning mist   ,  moss-covered stones near a moor   ,   scientific books   ,   white roses   ,   cheap champagne   ,   shabby pocket-watch  ,  light-hearted irony   ,   a maladroit cello sonata   ,    freshly mowed grass   , leaving thoughts come   &   go  ,   a slow yawn   ,   picturesque plates   &   bowls filled with traditional dishes  ,   drinking tea on the porch.

DOCTOR ZHIVAGO  :  a strange feeling of loss ,  writing poems in a diary ,   traveling by train ,   the hesitation before touching someone’s hand   ,   the gaze of one lost in thought ,  the warmth of cinnamon   ,   a scarf brightly embellished with flowers   ,  a glass of water   ,  a threadbare jacket  ,   the tempting void  ,  the evanescent serenity of yesterday.

CHERRY ORCHARD  :  a lone chair in an empty room  , falling blossoms  ,  old samovar  ,  the unsettling need for change  ,   a mirror reflecting full moon   ,   the disappointment of a glossy object turning worthless after second glance   ,   a piano out of tune.

TAGGED BY  : @sebaiser
TAGGING :  @avcntgarde @brvckens @samsreckoning @notmyfuckingfather @theoreticalguardianangel @ofscarllet @ofanescapist @theoriginalbadass @atticsister @inthequiver @mrbisected && anyone else who likes!!

jason.@nosquisumus

“I’d rather not, plausible deniability and all. Come on, let’s get you patched up.”

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“Don’t worry.  I’m not going to breathe a word you were here.  I’d rather not answer questions about how this happened anyway.”  Blaine shot the guy a guilty smile before looking down at his bloodied bruised knuckles.  They really were a mess.  And he had piano lessons tomorrow.  Probably should have thought about that before he didn’t regain control of a sparring match gone a teeny bit out of control.

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“I’ll be–,” he hissed in a breath through clenched together teeth in a grimace when he wriggled them trying to make a point that failed beyond the meaning of fail (so said the pain shooting up his arm).  “Wow.  That really is getting worse..and a lot more gross.”  Cringing, his nose scrunched when he met the other’s eyes and nodded.  “I mean–yeah.  Thanks.”

daughter of mine.

“just don’t give me that look.”a slight snap to her voice as she sunk in her seat.”i did NOTHING.”

Blaine’s brows shot up at the snippy reply.  Okay.  What brought that out? Apparently–if she was this angry at being in trouble?  There had to be something else going on.  “Honey,” sighed watching her slink down in her chair wishing Kurt was home for this one. “That’s not what the letter from your teacher said.  Why don’t you tell me what happened in your own words?  I’m willing to listen but we need to get to the bottom of why you keep getting sent home with these.”

♙, ☢

Send A Symbol For Shippy Stuff!
@theoriginalbadasspuckerman

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♙ : Character my muse hates: Hunter Clarington.  He’s a douche.  A roided-out douche yet to beat.  So like..Super Douche.  I love him because he’s a jerk character that makes me smile at how completely off the wall he was but Blaine really hates what he put the Warblers through. To boil it down to the minimum.  Cause I could list many thoughts on that.

☢ : Character my muse is afraid of: I don’t think Blaine has a deep fear of anyone in particular.  It’s more or less his own personal demons that he fears most and those get triggered by the actions–that he worries about or actually come from–the people around him. Rejection, abandonment and not being good enough.  Or other darker parts of his personality that he doesn’t like to see in himself that, say, Sebastian says he’ll embrace.  His dad would probably be the person Blaine fears it worst from.  Since he’s hinted he didn’t really accept him being gay and embodies most of those fears at their roots seeing as how he tried to ‘make his son straight’ probably more than the one time Blaine talks about, etc.  To get a tad bit Freudian.  Forever groaning over the fact we never got to see that play out.  Or get clear answers.