#[tainted flower ; aesthetics]

[dreadseadreams]

eden tag drop

[3gremlins]

wanted to participate in @storybookhawke 's DA met gala themed thing so here's a quick merrill piece (i kinda forgot until the reblog reminder went around so this was a pretty quick sketchy painting :3). haven't done DA art in ages so this was fun in the story ( the met gala theme is based on a j.g ballard short story called "the garden of time", which you can read here if you want!) the characters are trying to push off their inevitable downfall by picking the flowers that briefly stop time. the more flowers they pick, the sparser and less beautiful their garden looks- until eventually doom reaches them as there are no more flowers. i thought it did sort of fit with merrill's character arc a lot of her character arc is partially in her trying to balance the use of blood magic with her personal magic and how she's always tempted by demons (and how even success is tainted and doomed). She's always pulled by two sides- a more innocent, noble side that just wants to preserve her people's heritage and the other where she's willing to make deals without fully understanding the consequences. Every thing she does in the story line kind of pushes her closer towards the inevitable conflict (she can't push off the demon forever/will run out of time)

ALSO i really liked the flower theme and wanted to draw merrill in a pretty yet kinda sexy dress and it fits with her skill tree aesthetic (which is all about plant growth and nature magic). prob not the most avant garde thing but w/e. I know she's usually more associated with daisies but I liked the drama of roses and then contrasted it with the floatier lighter skirt on the other side (in the story the flowers are crystalline so this was a bit of a nod) here's the 15 sec time lapse if anyone's been interested

anyway this was really fun and i might do more but i def won't finish them in time (obvs). it was nice to do an au fashiony design again too, i've missed it

[thelastalessamontgomery]

FEATURE | Into the Decadent Life of Dorian Gray: How Victorian Aestheticism Led to His Demise

Originally published as a serial in 1890 and in book form the following year, Oscar Wilde's only novel The Picture of Dorian Gray is one of the best examples of late Victorian Gothic horror. The late 19th century aestheticism and decadence are among the key concepts that Wilde creatively weaved into his novel.

Behind the Aesthetic movement

During the 19th century, aestheticism was an art movement known as "art for art's sake" which favors the aesthetic value of the arts, literature, and music rather than their socio-political purpose. This movement focuses on producing art that is deemed beautiful rather than having a deeper meaning. Its philosophy is meant for escaping the ugliness of the materialism brought by the Industrial Age, thus only absorbing beauty and good taste. It also challenges the norms during the period where Victorians would often associate ethical and moral roles to any form of art, which is the very opposite of the movement's perspective.

While a critical reflection on the arts with the aim of getting through the hardships of a new age by recognizing the necessity of beauty in everyday life, the movement also gave rise to ethical questions–creating a conflict between aestheticism and morality, which can be perfectly observed in The Picture of Dorian Gray.

A stirring and provocative introduction

The novel probably has one of the best prefaces ever written. Novel prefaces during the Victorian age were usually crowded with characters, with long paragraphs that are thickly plotted. Prefaces invite the readers inside the book by stating the purpose, and Wilde was successful in doing so. He wrote the preface without complicated words, it was written realistically and with much thought.

In reference to the Aesthetic movement, Wilde asserts in the preface that art's aim is to only reveal art and conceal its artist. He also talks about the critics of art, who he defines as those who can translate into another manner or material. Detesting people who find ugly meanings in beautiful things, he calls them corrupt and uncharming; this is a fault. Those who are cultivated are the ones who can find beautiful meanings in beautiful things. Then, he ends it strongly with, "All art is quite useless."

Such an introduction will put the readers into deep thought, challenging someone's beliefs on the matter whether one agrees or not. And with the intriguing notions laid upon them, one may argue against it or further interpret the concepts on their own.

Navigating the tenets of Aestheticism in the novel’s synopsis

Opening with a vivid image of the setting, artist Basil Hallward paints Dorian Gray's portrait in his London studio. With them, Lord Henry "Harry" Wotton is smoking an opium-tainted cigarette while taking a shine to the fine young man with an "extraordinary personal beauty." Speaking in aphorisms, and in mostly profound manner, he slowly encourages Dorian to indulge deep into life's greatest pleasures, advising him to look constantly after new sensations in life despite Basil's begging that he should not corrupt Dorian with his words that reek of hedonistic values. Lord Henry, depicted as a manipulator as he picks a flower's petals one by one, would soon have a large role in Dorian's way of life.

As Basil finishes Dorian's portrait, the painting reveals such beauty and is praised by Lord Henry as being the artist's finest work ever done. Suggesting that it must be shown in the best galleries possible, Basil quickly insists that he does not want the portrait to be seen. He says, "I have put too much of myself in it."

Basil worries that showing his work will reveal so much of himself, that spectators may uncover more of his personal and artistic idolatry of Dorian than the fair subject himself. This echoes Aestheticism's principles, where artists must be dismissed; create only a beautiful work and not put meaning into it. He refuses to have his work be explored by critics, and be seen as a biographical expression.

Looking at the artist's finished work, Dorian marvels at how young and beautiful he looks. He wishes that he would always remain young, and that the portrait must become the one to age and wane. In order for such a wish to be granted, he even declared he would sell his soul. And this is the moment as if he has made a pact with the devil.

Dorian coddles with a life of pleasure, living a life with his gift of youth, just as Lord Henry has advised him. Soon he meets Sibyl Vane, a theater actress, and falls in love with her art–performing on stage with different roles embodying the aspects of tragic love: Cordelia, Juliet, Desdemona, and Portia among others. She artistically acts on stage, as if completely losing herself and fully becoming the characters she plays. This is what Dorian falls in love with, her art as an actress. Sibyl falls in love with Dorian, she then experiences real love and realizes the falseness she has been doing onstage.

Sibyl initially inspired Dorian to turn away from decadence. Dorian discusses with Lord Henry the emotions that Sibyl makes him feel, "Her trust makes me faithful, her belief makes me good. When I am with her, I regret all that you have taught me." But when Sibyl performs as Juliet on stage, she seems artificial. She hopes that Dorian will take the hint that she does not want to act anymore after falling in love. Disappointed and ashamed, Dorian stays the whole play after everyone has left. "You have killed my love," he mutters. And then he leaves as Sibyl pleads and cries on the floor.

Sibyl symbolizes truth and purity, while Dorian is nothing but deceit and selfishness. Dorian, once again, is swayed by the values taught to him by Lord Henry. Soon, Sibyl becomes like the tragic characters she portrays, she meets a bitter end when she takes her own life after Dorian turns her down for losing her ability to act. Without this art of hers, she is now meaningless. Henry tells Dorian about the girl's death and says, "The girl never really lived, and so she has never really died."

Aestheticism's values deeply affect how Dorian sees people around him, same with how he treated Sibyl. He only saw value in her knowing that she was a brilliant actress. He mourned for her when she died as Cordelia. But never did he feel an ounce of sadness, when she died as Sibyl Vane.

After Sibyl's death, Dorian feels there is nothing more to stop him from treading a terrible path of sin and immorality. He goes on with self-indulgence, and there is no coming back. Sin after sin, he commits all things hideous. His physical body remains perfect but his portrait changes, becoming uglier as days of sin go by. Shocked by the changes in the portrait, he locks it away in his house's attic. Once again, after ceaselessly doing immoral things, he looks at the portrait and an old, evil face is revealed to him.

A tragic but fulfilling ending

13 years pass by and Dorian remains young and attractive. Dorian shows Basil his secret, the portrait that he is hiding, and the artist is appalled by the sight of his then beautiful work. Dorian then stabs Basil to death. Sibyl's brother, James, also went to exact revenge on him but is shot by one of the members of his shooting party. These events continue to disfigure his portrait. He tries to believe that the portrait may improve if he starts to behave, but he looks at the portrait again and his old self remains with the face of an evil man.

Dismayed and outraged by the loathsome sight, Dorian shoves a knife into the canvas to destroy the evidence of his sin. The sin he wants to destroy is himself. So when the servants arrive in the attic after hearing a blood-curdling sound, they witness Dorian's beautiful portrait just as Basil has painted it, but there lies on the floor a body of wrinkled old man with a horrid face.

The ending scene, as tragic as it appears on the surface, is perfectly constructed. All the events in the story, each circumstance of the characters that have different values and especially Dorian's journey of sin, led to this very end–to his ultimate demise. An ending he deserves, the moment of his death with the magical portrait at the scene that displayed strong symbols–him being one with the portrait maintaining his immortality, the depravity in the painting that he longs to kill instead of facing it.

Dorian Gray and the demise of his Aesthetic life

Dorian's ending is a reminder that no one can get away with everything. He went about in his life with the values of aestheticism imparted to him by Lord Henry, and that brought his downfall at the end. The movement should have only been a means to distract oneself from the industrialization and the physical harms it had on people. But too much indulgence in just beauty on a surface level gets rid of other things that are also important.

Living this life must also take some inspiration. Creating art can be both for the art and artist's sake, so as creating meaning or not having meaning at all. Sibyl is not meaningless when she loses her ability to act, it is not meagerness to finally embrace and see oneself as who they truly are. Basil should not have been shamed for keeping something so precious to him. Dorian would not have been put into a life of decadence if only he considered both having youth and not having youth as a gift, if only he considered to also put value in his attitude as he does in his looks.

It is mentioned how there is conflict between aestheticism and morality which is discernible in the novel. The very conflict presented there is Dorian Gray himself, who is such an exceptionally beautiful-looking young man but has a crooked and amoral attitude–which led to his own downfall. What lies beneath the surface is more worthwhile after all.

[that-one-ya-pagan-book]

"The Gatsby"

Legal Name Unknown | Main Antagonist Of The Book | Name Inspired By The Great Gatsby | Leader of the Cult | Nearly A God

[Credits Unknown; Found Via "Biker Aesthetic Trickshot" Bing Search]

Name: The Gatsby

"The Gatsby" - Taken from The Great Gatsby, a book in which he takes much of himself & inspiration of his character from.

Parentage: ___

Pronouns: He/Him In The Mafia Sense

Age: Unknown

↳ Look at the state of this world! Look at our Politicians! Look at everyone around us! Do you not see the evil that lives within us now? How tainted we are? We must reset! We must restart!

Ethnicity: ___

Backstory:

___

Powers: Charisma, Ichor, Leadership, & A Large + Loyal Following

Weapons: Concealed Daggers

Characters That Inspired My Creation Of Him: Jay Gatsby, Wolfsheim, Magneto, Serial Killers

Likes: ___

Dislikes: Flowers; Being Disrupted

Enemies: Doesn't Have Any

Fun Facts:

Within the book & that timeline, "The Gatsby" is very close to godhood. He is a close legacy of the Gods (though the mod hasn't decided which yet) and so he has the ichor (see Ichor to learn more) and can convert those prayers, love, and adoration into energy that fuels him, much like a god would. And he's effective enough to get enough support even in such short time he's started to come above ground with his movements that it's quickly Ascending him.

Has a daughter... how do we feel about that chat /lh

Focuses a lot on the state of politics & the world to push his agenda. What agenda? Good question, writer [hey! Don't look at me...]

The main thing that's wrong with him in the story is that he's going to be using the Greek Gods as a way & excuse to be doing bad things + push his agenda, which is a huge no no.

[bloomblanche]

＊✿ It's Melly!! ✿＊

I just realized that I haven't talked about her much on my blog. Time to fix that.

(Text cut for aesthetic purposes)

Bear in mind that she kinda evolved from "splatsona" to "OC who shares a lot of things with me (but not everything!) and still represents me sometimes but is mostly her own character now"

❥ Mélusine (full name Mélusine Larchipel) is 20 years old and goes by she/her. Her height is 166 cm, aka 5'5. She's autistic and pansexual.

❥ She's all academics, no street smarts. She's rather shy, overly polite, and has trouble voicing her opinions (as well as socializing in general). Her enthusiasm and eccentricities regularly slip through the cracks of her demure appearance.

❥ Melly moved to Inkadia around 10 years ago (making her multilingual as a result), but she still hasn't gotten used to everything because she would mostly spend her time inside without interacting much with other people. She's only recently started to open up, and she uses ink sports and tableturf as a way to do so.

❥ Her mom is a surface Octoling, but her dad is a Cirraling (which is my fan species of cirrate octopuses). That makes her half-grimpoteuthis! The reason why it matters is that the top design isn't her true appearance. The bottom one is what she looks like all-natural.

(Older drawings for comparison)

❥ Due to the biological differences of cirrate octopuses, her chromatophores and her ink sac are a bit underdeveloped. It takes roughly 15 minutes of light exposure for her chromatophores to be able to change colour and roughly 30 minutes in darkness for her to revert back to her natural colour.

❥ She's a bit insecure about her differences, so that's why she disguises herself as a regular Octoling. In fact, her hairstyle is meant to make her ears look smaller since she would get teased for them as a kid.

❥ This character is pretty much a metaphor for masking, when you think about it

❥ Now! Being part-dumbo has its perks, such as better night vision, but it also has its downsides. Remember when I said that her ink sac was underdeveloped? Because of that, she has to focus almost all of her gear abilities into ink saving.

❥ And that combined with her being unable to play anything other than brushes means that Melly REALLY sucks at Salmon Run. She sucks so much that her teammates kept complaining, and she ended up getting kicked out of Grizz Co. She doesn't mind it too much, though, because she's happy earning money with turf war and sewing. Not to mention that the whole business looks really shady anyway.

❥ Going back to brush weapons! Melly has a weird obsession with them. She owns all of the available ones on the market and will only listen to Sheldon's rambles if they're about brush weapons (if they aren't, she will immediately zone out)

❥ She's named Mélusine after the fairy from the eponymous myth. Mélusine is a spirit of fresh water who was cursed to become a serpent from the waist down every Saturday. So! Not only does it have a water theme, but it reflects her appearance-changing deal. She likes her full name, and her family uses it on a regular basis. The reason why she mostly goes by "Melly" is because it's easier for her friends to pronounce.

❥ Her favourite band is Chirpy Chips, and her favourite song from them is Shellfie. She's also a big fan of Raian (guess where that came from) and has a celebrity crush on them.

❥ Her favourite show and videogame are called "Magical Mumi Uni-chan" and "Coral Village 2" respectively.

❥ She loves blueberry pies and hates walnuts for their dry aftertaste (macadamia nuts are more up her alley)

❥ She developed emetophobia as a kid after a severe bout of salmonella.

❥ She really likes flowers as well as lolita fashion and does sewing as a hobby.

❥ While not visible in this drawing, she has some webbing between her fingers (which are tainted purple)

❥ Her shoes are punk whites with ruffle socks.

❥ And last but not least: Melly is based on this specific octopus! She's also very interested in the deep sea and likes to search for books about it.

Thank you for your interest!!

Here are some silly gifs

[royaletiquette]

   russian classics aesthetic.

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 and 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 and 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 and 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 ball room,  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 and go, a slow yawn,  picturesque plates and 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 @cantuscorvi♥

[fangsforiris]

Can I please request shu with kianna komori but how would he be in a relationship with her and how would he react to her self-harm

By the way you can find something on my page on Tumblr

Shū/Kianna Komori (OC) Relationship HC’s

& His Reaction to Her Self-Harming

TW!! Self-Harm!!

Hi!! I’d love to, also your oc is so cute!! She sounds like an absolute doll. I absolutely love her whole fashion sense, it reminds me of Kanato and his type in women. Hope you like these <33

Word Count: 525

Topics Included: Relationship HC’s, & Reaction to Self-Harm.

Relationship HC’s:

🎀  Shū wouldn’t mind if Kianna dressed up for him.

🎀  In fact he’d be into it.

🎀  She’d be willing to do so if she’s in a good mood.

🎀  Her style reminds him a lot of what Kanato’s into, so he’d be used to Kanato’s off hand comments about it.

🎀  Shū wouldn’t know how he’d feel about it though, considering that he’s with someone who’s Kanato’s idea type. 

🎀  After all, everyone knows that Kanato has a set type, and what it could mean about you to go for that as well. 

🎀  It’s sort of an unsaid thing. 

🎀  Shū finds himself comfortable with her, but to a degree. 

🎀  He’s always still on guard. 

🎀  It’s sort of the price to pay after losing so many people you’ve loved in the past. 

🎀  If Kianna forces him, they’d go on dates. 

🎀  They both like going to the central gardens, it happens to be calming for Shū, while Kianna enjoys the variety of flowers and its aesthetic. 

🎀  Bonus Points if Shū always regularly gets her flowers for their dates. 

🎀  He gets a bouquet of pink roses, and always has a heart shaped card attached to them which is strawberry and cream scented. 

🎀  They definitely take naps together.

🎀  Whenever Kianna has one of her nightmares, Shū cuddles her and cradles her head, patting it and whispering sweet nothings to soothe her. 

🎀  Oddly, they're quite domestic. 

🎀  Realistically, throughout the relationship Shū would be haunted by the memory of Edgar and for being able to move on so fast. 

🎀  The entire ordeal feels off for him, but he does his best to push it down. 

Reaction to Self-Harm:

🎀  This would instantly bring Shū back to Subaru’s borderline suicidal tendencies. 

🎀  I like to think that he’s had to coax Subaru out of harming himself. 

🎀  Like Shū would have so many late night conversations with him, despite his own lingering thoughts. 

🎀  It would sort of feel hypocritical, in a sense, to Shū. 

🎀  So when he sees Kianna on the bathroom floor, with blood tainting the porcelain tiles, alarms go off in his head. 

🎀  He doesn’t want to be the reason that someone else dies. 

🎀  Shū’s already had enough experience with Edgar. 

🎀  So he’d approach it gently. 

🎀  He likes (?) Kianna, but he also has some sort of undetermined feelings to sort out. 

🎀   Shū would take the knife away, and lend an ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on. 

🎀  Just imagine this boy silently listening to all the troubles, whilst running soothing circles around Kianna’s lower back. 

🎀  In terms of cleaning up, he’d most likely use some of his saliva to seal up the wounds (canon fact that vampire’s saliva heals.) 

🎀  And the rest of the blood, I feel as though Shū would be a bit disgusted, or more so uneasy with swallowing the blood shed from self-harm. 

🎀  It’s just the principal of the situation which rubs him the wrong way. 

🎀  So he’d get some bandages and hope that it’s enough.

Oh and for any stars who like the divider used!! Search: dollete divider (in gifs)

Side Note: This is not my OC!!

[ultfan]

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 words.

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 ball room, 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 parlour, 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, letting 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.

[illumiera]

Hiiii! I'm asking questions to all your ocs! So, for Elentari, Miraak, Solis and Vanna (super cool names btw!)

3. weapon of choice? any particular reason they chose this weapon?

5. how do they typically dress? does their wardrobe lean more towards practicality or aesthetics?

15. how big or small is their family? who did they live with growing up? do they live with anyone now?

28. how do they show they care about someone? how do they express that they don't like someone?

✨ ask game! ✨

oh, thank you so much for the ask! I have a feeling this is going to get long... 😼💖

3: weapon of choice? any particular reason they chose this weapon?

Elentari is a mage, a master of Destruction and Restoration both; magic itself (as well as the Voice!) is her weapon of choice. fire magic, in particular! that said, she can often be found with the Staff of Magnus at her back, an ornate silver dagger in a sheath at her belt, and a second dagger strapped to her thigh beneath her robes—just in case.

Miraak, too, is a mage, one who tends towards storm magic and the thu'um. however, out of a desire to survive as an acolyte in the Merethic Era, he taught himself how to wield a sword, Firstblade, with as much deadliness as his spells. Apocrypha and Mora's influence tainted that sword, but as he'll soon find out, when Elentari brought him back to life, something in the magic she used turned the corrupted metal to bright, shining gold.

it's no surprise that Solis, as a Dunmer, leans towards fire magic. he holds a certain reverence for fire; after all, when he called upon the wrath of ancestors he no longer remembers to free himself from his thralldom, it was a storm of fierce flames that slayed his captors and let him escape. and what good would a cook be if they didn't have a favourite knife or two, too?

Vanna can wield magic, but she prefers a trusty sword—albeit an enchanted flaming sword, one she's named Sunflare. previously, it was an ordinary blade found at some point during her days of banditry, but Solis (again with skills he can't remember ever learning) enchanted it for her some time after they found Miraak's cult and tentatively grew to trust one another.

5. how do they particularly dress? does their wardrobe lean more towards practicality or aesthetics?

Elentari leans towards the 'aesthetics' end of the scale—ornate, flowing robes and fresh-picked flowers in her hair or an enchanted circlet when she's doing Dragonborn or Arch-Mage duties; beautiful gowns and delicate shoes when she's not. almost every single item is hand-embroidered.

there is some practicality in there, though! quite often, she'll enchant the thread she uses to make even an ordinary gown as resistant to a blade as a piece of armour, or to keep her warm in the cold (that Breton blood does her no favours)! her cloak, too, is heavy and trimmed with plush white fur to keep her as snug as possible.

Miraak is also more of an 'aesthetics' person; he might have been a peasant farmboy and then a servant of the dragon cult once, but these days, he enjoys luxurious fabrics, Ellie's embroidery, and those poet shirts with the flouncy sleeves where possible. like your stereotypical dragon, he loves a touch of gold: the new robes Ellie sews for him are a deep shade of purple accentuated with golden thread, and these, too, are enchanted.

as cultists, Solis and Vanna dress with practicality in mind, though you'll notice references to Miraak's initial outfit in the designs of their robes. dressing for aesthetics is a luxury Vanna—an orphan turned thief turned bandit turned cultist—has never been afforded. Solis, meanwhile... he doesn't remember, of course, but before he escaped his captors and took the name Solis for himself, he dressed in beautiful enchanted robes befitting the wizard's apprentice he was.

15. how big or small is their family? who did they live with growing up? do they live with anyone now?

all of Elentari's family are dead. she, her little sister, and her parents were all murdered by Dark Brotherhood assassins at the behest of a bitter duke, and Mara could only bring her, the future Last Dragonborn, back to life. these days, she lives with Miraak and her white wolf, Isild, in an enchanted cottage by a waterfall in Riverwood. there's always a room for guests, too—most often her best friend, Lucien Flavius!

forsaken by his superstitious father at birth, Miraak had a small family growing up: just him and his mother, Eivor Ragnarsdottir, living at first in a remote village in Atmora and then on a small farm at Bromjunaar. that was, of course, until he was taken by the dragon cult...

before he was Solis, Solis lived with his father in Sadrith Mora, Vvardenfell. just over two hundred years ago, when he was very small, his mother had to leave her little family to sail east. she never returned. unable to remember any of this, he currently lives in Miraak's temple with Vanna and whatever draugr Ellie and Lucien didn't kill as they made their way inside for the first time.

Vanna's father was killed in the Great War against the Thalmor just prior to her birth, and her mother was murdered—again by the Thalmor—when she was very young. she spent her entire childhood in Honorhall Orphanage in Riften, and came to think of her fellow orphans as her siblings. when she turned to thievery, it was partially to support them; even after she grew too old to remain at the orphanage, she'd sneak back with a little gold or some supplies.

28. how do they show they care about someone? how do they express that they don't like someone?

if Elentari cares about you, you'll know it: she'll do things for you, sew things for you, just try to look after you however she can. if you're open to it, she's there with a comforting touch, a kind word, or a cup of her favourite snowberry tea. contrarily, if she doesn't like someone, she's unfailingly polite: calm, composed, and ready with sharp-edged smiles devoid of all warmth.

Miraak is much the same as far as showing he cares, though he's also very verbally expressive. he's the sort to bring down the heavens themselves to protect someone who means a great deal to him, and... possibly bring down those same heavens to spite someone he feels deserves it. you'd certainly know if you were on his bad side—the bared, fanged teeth are a dead giveaway.

Solis is relatively unexpressive and rather quiet, a trait that lingers from his thralldom—and perhaps also his upbringing—but he becomes somewhat more so around the people he likes to the point you might realise there's a slight streak of mischief in him. he'll cook for you, too, and the polite thing to do in that case is to pretend you enjoy the fact that your tongue is on fire from the amount of spices he puts in the food. you'll probably be able to tell that he doesn't like you from the dagger he's unsheathed, or before that, from the fact that his ears keep flicking in irritation around you.

like the others, Vanna is very protective of those she cares about, and her temper is such that she's not afraid to let people know when she thinks little of them (possibly at swordpoint, as Frea of the Skaal discovered—cue what may well have been a mutual 'oh no, she's hot' moment). however, a person she likes will gradually get to see another side of her, and that's her warmth and bright sense of humour.

essentially, the i fear no fate gang (with the exception of Ellie, who's generally more diplomatic) are very much "who do you want dead? I can make them dead for you if you like" people...

[cantuscorvi]

   russian classics aesthetic.

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 and 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 and 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 and 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 ball room,  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 and go, a slow yawn,  picturesque plates and 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 @malefikant <3 tagging: @nezumivc103221 @distopea @sosordid @asinusxdomi @royaletiquette @confettiguts @malafxde and anyone who feels like doing it !

[hunting-songs]

Russian Classics Aesthetic!

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 and 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 and counting heartbeats, too many stairs, the desire to be invisible, a subtle memory of kind words

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 and 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 ball room, indulging in looking at a beautiful earring against light, the sound of a saber being drawn, 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  

𝐀 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄: byronic boredom, getting up late in the afternoon, the hidden unspeakable sadness of existence, shakespeare’s tragedy opened next to untouched breakfast, cigarette smoke, polished boots, walking with one’s coat wide open letting the night chill break through to the bone, carved wooden chair, fading warmth of the ashes late in the evening, the thought of farewell  

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 and go, a slow yawn, picturesque plates and bowls filled with traditional dishes, drinking tea on the porch, longing for the future

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, two people listening each on the other side of the door, a threadbare jacket, the tempting void, the evanescent serenity of yesterday  

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐒: horses in a merry gallop, delicious smells mingled, grotesque and bizarre tragedy, luxurious attire cheap soul, masks, a perfumed love letter, the triumph of sarcasm, an unattached wheel rolling down a dusty road, the atmosphere of commedia dell’ arte, puzzling speeches, a baffling caricature drawn on a handkerchief  

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  

[sharpsuite]

♢  — Russian Classics Aesthetics

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 and 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 and 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 and 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 ball room, indulging in looking at a beautiful earring against light, the sound of a saber being drawn, 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  

𝐀 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄: byronic boredom, getting up late in the afternoon, the hidden unspeakable sadness of existence, shakespeare’s tragedy opened next to untouched breakfast, cigarette smoke, polished boots, walking with one’s coat wide open letting the night chill break through to the bone, carved wooden chair, fading warmth of the ashes late in the evening, the thought of farewell  

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 and go, a slow yawn, picturesque plates and bowls filled with traditional dishes, drinking tea on the porch, longing for the future

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, two people listening each on the other side of the door, a threadbare jacket, the tempting void, the evanescent serenity of yesterday  

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐒: horses in a merry gallop, delicious smells mingled, grotesque and bizarre tragedy, luxurious attire cheap soul, masks, a perfumed love letter, the triumph of sarcasm, an unattached wheel rolling down a dusty road, the atmosphere of commedia dell’ arte, puzzling speeches, a baffling caricature drawn on a handkerchief

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: i took it <3 tagging: whoever would like to, say i tagged you!

[sourrcandy]

russian literature aesthetic tag

tagged by — @serpentarii my beloved xx

rules — bold whichever applies to a character of your choice

yuluo from 《 until we meet again 》 aka the wtw zine submission i’m writing :D

THE BROTHER’S 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 words

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 snowstorm / 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 an expensive restaurant / 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 / lighthearted irony / a maladroit cello sonata / freshly mowed grass / letting 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

THE CHERRY ORCHARD :: a lone chair in an empty room / falling blossoms / an 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 

tagging — @junypr-camus, @thatswhereiwanttobe, @helioselene, @dontjudgemeimawriter and anyone who wants to do this xx

[tanevthehimbo]

for the ask game. smell/taste/see :3

Ooh yes the tangibles

Smell

“I can’t believe you!” Teddy continued, letting all his hatred for his mortal enemy flow out. “You’re so heartless! All you do is take, take, take, just because you’re hot and people find your vaping, sensitive artist act charming for some reason. Real artists don’t smoke goddamn cotton candy flavored shit! They smoke tar for the aesthetic!”

“It’s actually blue raspberry. Learn to smell.”

Taste

His eyes landed on Tristan, who had his head thrown back carelessly and was laughing. Teddy’s eyes followed the long line of his throat. He wondered what it would taste like, if he were to gently place his mouth there and create little maroon blossoms along it. Would it be sweet, like a soft spring flower? Or would it taste vaguely acidic, tainted with Tristan’s cologne? Tristan’s cologne was airy, yet woodsy. He wore it like it was his natural scent, faint and sweet when it mingled with his sweat. Teddy almost tripped up the porch stairs, too enthralled by Tristan.

See

“It has happened again. Ten years already?” Connor shook his head sadly. “It shatters my heart to see such acts of hatred committed for love.”

(Had to slip in one of Helle’s few lines just for you, my beloved number 1 Jets fan <3 )

[butchviking]

don't even know where i would put myself on that scale. instinct says 1 but theres gotta b SOMETHING i like about it right? there are positive traits that are considered feminine and nice aesthetics that are considered feminine 🤔 however i cant help but feel that my gender role actually makes me way LESS comfortable w most of those traits/aesthetics so... does putting a flower in my hair mean im a little more comfortable w my gender role bc i enjoy a small act of femininity or does it mean i am LESS comfortable w my gender role bc every silly fun feminine thing i do feels tainted with gendered expectations. 🤔🤔🤔

[sunsetfilmss]

Playboy's, y'ready or not?

bts + dystopian + other idols

description: THE NEWEST dystopian novel, where various youths - from different diversions - are drawn into the domains of the game - through the haunting invitations. They grow into adolescence together, secluded in the unknown, in the epicentre of danger and daring exploits, and with the repeated battle for existence. Each has their own history and a withering future that the game holds. Stray along in-between the brutal and agonising journeys of the protagonists, as each spiral into insanity in the arena. Each to their own. Further along in the battle for survival, hidden haunting memories flood back to them, reminding them of the reason why they're in there. The games tainted them but weren't they were already tainted?

pairing: mainy maknae line, but hyung line included interactions! ( btw this is a fanfic - mainly bts - but many other idols will be mentioned. ) x !reader

genre: dystopian ( e.g. hunger games, divergent, the maze runner) action-adventure, action-romance.

rating: 15- 18+ ( mainly 18+ due to the mentions of injuries or more sensitive topics!)

warnings: different warnings will be set with the different chapters!

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Chapter 4 - Laughing Stock

warnings: bit of violence ig

WHY DO WE continue to live?

Because we hope that what awaits us is a life more favourable than death, so... would you live your life again?

Would you decide to live your life again if you was stirred from a slumber by a roaring audience, in the midst of an arena?

Would you, even if you was hanging in the air, swaying in the grips of the four thinning edges of the rope on a plank of wood that is accompanied by the coarse underfoot of grass, sprouting from the wood plank, consider dying all together and re-living your life?

Even if you progressively take in the chants, the applause, that seems to louden as you cover your ears, itch your eyes, wipe your mouth and scrunch your eyebrows, would you?

The turning point of this all, was when you sat up, tried to at least. The smallest movements made the plank sway, larger the movements the more vigorously the ropes tried to sustain a balance, mid air.

It was either the fact that you're floating in the air, on a plank of aesthetic wood, in the centre of an ancient Roman amphitheatre. Or the fact that there's twelve other people hanging, all at different levels and with different worded silk banners cascading from the edge of both sides of the planks.

Shock doesn't wash over you after you look up to see a couple contestants hanging nearby or above you, but when you look down, past the swaying silk banners, past the grass and past the small - sprouting flowers caught in the webbing of your fingers when you grasped the grass for balance, the odd few people slightly below you, to the side, but the distance from the ground, is the deciding factor.

You're a sky-scrapers height away from the rooted, tough and reedy grass beneath, you're floating at the top of the arena by just four strings and a rectangle patch of grass, soo small that everyone's legs and arms are lulled over the edge, full display.

Wavering your eyes away from the ground, you look upon a crowd of a whole city, all with their hands flaying above their heads, screaming with excitement at the awakening contestants.

You had only positioned your legs either side of the plank and arduously lifting your arm to hold on one of the four ropes when you had began to get frightened. People shouted, commented on the writings on the flailing silk, on you, and on your face. There was a continuous roar of catcalls, laughter, yells pierced occasionally by a scream.

Similar to the jarring sounds of the tedious capitol, a blustery screech, a speaker, a microphone and a keen voice set out a queue of silence.

"What a crowd! What a crowd!"

And if that didn't cause the slight stumble of the remaining planks, then the declaration after, did.

"Some of them must be soo tired!" With a maniac cluster of a laugh and a sudden accompanied series of laughs from the audience, he continues.

"I think Kim Taehyung needs a little wake up call, don't you! How typical for someone from Amity!" Another roar of laughter but what follows exceeds the the rest of the violent noise. A full blown chant.

"Kim Taehyung, Kim Taehyung, Kim Taehyung!"

It takes a glaze of the hanging decks, similar positioned bodies, shuddering banners, to see the boy. His deck is hanging below mine, to the left. I take the two ropes in-front, into my hands and peer down.

He doesn't take the collective chants calmly, instead with one sudden turn he rolls over, past the two ropes beside him and he hangs. Hangs with one hand finding security amongst the flowers and grass of the deck, and not long after, with both hands and a with a grunt ripping from his mouth.

The chants have died down but the sudden emerged laughs replace them. Seemingly louder.

Taehyung releases one of his trembling hands, and reaches for the rope near his left hand, similar motion for the right hand. Yet instead of the plank working in his favour, it tilts, and with a sudden drop, the grassy surface nearly faces him, the grass showcased the ground.

The audience in hand, were spotlight of this arena. The way they dressed was fascinating. Everyone has heard of them, the snobby, the entitled and the praised, they didn't belong to any of the five factions. They took the title of the rich and took a non- identifiable look, they were soo colourful.

The people of the capitol used their external appearances to express their money, their greed and their wealth. They dress up to express the capitol in itself.

The vibrancy of the colours all over the capitol contrast the dull lives of each and every faction. The factions ironically were created by the capitol for the segregated parts of the country. All the while, the capitol and the overly dressed citizens ruled themselves as non participants of this law, never knowing of the repeated suffering that was suppressed under this law. The law being to 'Choose faction before blood.'

Amity, being the peaceful, give freely knowing, hoping, that they're given what they need. They render themselves free of anger, as a whole. Amity follow key teachings, to follow up on the law accurately ; ' The opinions of others cannot damage you.' and ' Cruel thoughts lead to cruel words and hurt you as much as they wound their target... blah blah blah. They all grow into adolescence and grow into adulthood knowing to value peace and harmony above all else, they're all willing to serve, but not face-to-face, physically.

Its ironic really, such vulnerable individuals offering to help others, when they are the ones most in need. In all actuality, Taehyung had wished, and was angered, when he didn't receive help that he needed, he always helped, so why didn't he get help back? With both parents dead, with his sources of life, living and to live dead. God, it was unreal, the amount of anger he felt, disconnected from reality at times had rendered him with thoughts that shouldn't root from the typical mind of an amity.

Thoughts of killing the capitol, each and every leader that sat on the prestigious dias'. Each one that ate from the prestigious scrapped cutlery, those that ate those prestigious meals, when he couldn't. when no one in his village could. The ones that grew with a gold spoon to their mouths, the ones that their hair groomed, shortly after their last appointment - to merely kill time. The ones that held a ring, on the ring finger of their left hand, and yet as surrounded by the numerous desirable, all-good-for-nothing-women, he was going to kill each and every one.

Everyone told him that it was alright to feel lost, feel anger at such times, even if he was forbidden from feeling anger. Forbidden from feeling. But everyone is wrong. He knows they're wrong. He knows because, he doesn't feel lost, in fact, he has never felt better and he has his goals in line, he isn't lost, like they all say. He knows he's going to kill the capitol and he knows exactly how to do it.

He's not lost.

Being forbidden from feeling anger was rooted in his mind, yet didn't stop him, ever, from feeling it. He could say, that in all his time in amity, he began developing feelings of anger more than anything else. So when he was laughed at like an elephant, an outsider, at the centre of a circus , an arena, he felt beckoning wrath in the form of reddening skin, veins splurging and displaying themselves all around his body.

The laughs and being at the epicentre of the joke, was all it took for Taehyung to pull himself up, a swift movement between a mid-air pull up and a jump, onto the plank, but he wasn't done, and neither was the capitols laughter. Arms aching, he positioned himself to stand on the wavering plank, hands either side, a demolishing and veiny grip on the ropes.

Laughter seized. Speakers were succumbed to silence as he pulls a daring move. The daring move.

With the tilt of his body backwards, his head and elbows following, he swings the plank in its entirety. And it moves fast and faster after the third lunge, his right ropes moving fast towards the centre of your plank. That's when it hits you, quite literally, your body tilting off to the side, and instead of both your hands being on the ropes in front, there's two on one rope. The heavy breathing and the anger palpitating through him, doesn't shock only you it shocks everyone. Everyone. Your plank is rocking like his now, with you still straddling it.

There's nothing you can do about it, the stares, the shocked gasps and the peering eyes from the other hanging participants.

With a swift movement of you flipping yourself upside down, mid-air and still straddling the plank. There is something you can do, give him a taste of his own medicine. So when he keeps swinging towards your plank, and you swinging towards his, by his second swing you grip his plank, from the bottom. This stirs a more sudden swing, but with your planks now attached, you grab the back of his leg, trousers even, and pull, at first it causes his leg to hover over the edge.

But your nails didn't, with all your might you tugged, and he lost balance from already being mid air, and now he hovers again, but this time, his whole body, flailing arms and everything.

He let a series of grunts out, his plan of trying to make someone else a laughing stock, failing. Failig miserably at that. And he realises that ;

He couldn't and wouldn't kill the capitol, the capitol would kill him.

And if they didn't then you would.

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+ woah a tiny bit of action buttt what do we think...