Dorian Gray - Blog Posts

C.ai being down means I have to retreat to my origin of reading fanfics instead of making my own little plot 😭

IT WAS GETTING GOOD TOO I WAS HAVING A LOVELY CHAT WITH DORIAN GRAY!!

I just got finished reading the book “The Picture of Dorian Gray” by Oscar Wilde and I felt compelled to draw Dorian. <3

ᵗᵒ ᵈᵉᶠⁱⁿᵉ ⁱˢ ᵗᵒ ˡⁱᵐⁱᵗ ⁻ ᵒˢᶜᵃʳ ʷⁱˡᵈᵉ, ᵗʰᵉ ᵖⁱᶜᵗᵘʳᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵈᵒʳⁱᵃⁿ ᵍʳᵃʸ

I finished reading Dorian Gray this week and I was telling all my friends how cool a modern retelling would be. I did not mean this. Wtf do you mean they're siblings. I wanted Clueless, not whatever this is.

special thanks to @fawadkhangf for titling this piece!

transcript and taglist under the cut!

Tender Curses

Tenderness is the wound I chisel out of you/ when we scrape the light off of us in the shower/ in the mornings enclosed with curtains drawn./ I sing to the beats of the water that falls without touching you.// In ache when we join fingers to your delight, my lover,/ you curse the thumb that circles my palm./ In ways when you whisper of the lack of flesh in this world,/ I hear your impetrations of succumbing to a child’s sky.// When after the evening dream in the purple, the moon turns into a star,/ I sit on your collarbones, you weigh my scars./ We weave of all the ways ocean will never turn against the shore;/ the morning contrives the lumps in our throat.// From the lies with which we draw our quilts,/ you reek of tenderness, I chant your sins./ After the morning tea when you talk of numbers and the deaths in a far-off land,/ I chisel out your wounds of tenderness and carpent our hourglass.

taglist: @king-of-knives @a-moonlit-poet @bedfordhealyx @it-is-what-it-it-iss @kajukatliontop @nochampagneonlyproblems @fawadkhangf @mygayisdogtoo @lilhappylilsad @cherryblossom @parihumay @jules-hazard @eveesque @wigilda @theazurepoet @ghostfilesbish @penguinstudiesstuff @a-smart-dumbass @anarchist-therapist @intoxicatednits @rustyswingset

transcript and taglist under the cut (send an ask to be added or removed):

Likes and REBLOGS are more than appreciated!

Home- wrecker

home-wrecker! your devoid/ awaits my freedom./ seventeen and sucking the dirt/ out of your newspapers:/ annihilating a mother’s only successor.// the aftertaste of your/ sweet breakfast: there/ is another political argument/ i do not want to fight./ your lips so unsealed,/ i almost divide.// the khaki pants,/ the leather chappals;/ in your dreamland,/ i am burrowing the glass dirt./ in your dreamland,/ you are excavating the cause’s birth.// i see your fingers placed/ evenly on the knife,/ a firm grip on the pink onion,/ too tight sometimes./ the stretch of the thumb/ is eluding the blade;/ the blade so clear/ we prick each other’s face. // an apple pudding,/ a national plight,/ i heard you singing/ in the shower tonight,/ i heard you escaping/ from the waters tonight. // i unmake your bed before/ the bell chimes 8./ your silver- worn hands/ hold me at a caressing stake./ the dreams,/ if not forgotten,/ hold a near distant reality:/ i am holding your breath in my wake.

taglist

@ruins-of-heart @a-moonlit-poet @rottensummerlove @it-is-what-it-it-iss @kajukatliontop @nochampagneonlyproblems @champagnesrush @mydogisgaytoo @lilhappylilsad @ch3rryblo55oms @jules-hazard @eveesque @wigilda @theazurepoet @star-dust-2317 @catguin-the-kitty-cat @kittywritesmistress @a-smart-dumbass( not working?)

transcript:

summer’s shadowless exit wounds

august is shifting its entry wounds to october’s doors and the lines of your palms are telling you the number of summers you have spent in your shadow./ the essence of your mayhem is corpsing with sun’s each passing ray;/ the salivary savour of the right ingrown wisdom tooth has cut through your tongue./ in lieu of mango-lit dreamland hours, you are bleeding summer’s grass blades into bleached hair by the pumpkin moon./ the air doesn’t taste saline anymore. // the badlands bequeathed from your father’s lineage have traces ingrained/ even in your attic’s decades-old dust./ they are robbing you of yarns of your maternal grandma’s sarees./ and you’re tired./ you’re tired of helping your mother out to make space for every hand-me-downs/ she has been shoving under her bed. // summer did cut through like a knife/ but you had been stitching your outspoken words/ together to make sweeter sentences,/ so,/ when this year’s fall bids your birds goodbye, they wouldn’t be left with traces of your anomaly. the ones that flew out/ as soon as you opened yourself to the sun,/ for you have realised that the light/ can find you even with the curtains drawn./ there is no place to hide except for the sun’s mouth.// the top right foot of the dinning table/ has stopped creaking./ your grandfather passed away in July./ Chapatis in the house have/ thickened to the normal measure,/ so now,/ you won’t get called names on your bony frame. father sits in the bedroom, contemplating/ on the bait of his day’s sweat by/ the notes he gave out that day and the ones/ he will receive at the end of the month./ the dining table,/ now,/ sits empty in a muffled rattle.// your tongue tastes like/ the decayed French Marigolds/ you found in your late may’s school backpack./ its fragrance still travels through when/ you smell it in between the beige curtains/ of the attic’s room./ you are pondering on what must it be like to watch yourself sleep./ the heart is not heart shaped and/ you want to wash dishes with the foam/ but there are none left in the sink./ you haven’t eaten for 2 hours and,/ unlawfully,/ like an adult’s dream,/you are hungry again.

taglist under the cut! ( send an ask to be added removed.)

@champagnesrush @ch3rryblo55oms @ruins-of-heart @a-moonlit-poet @rottensummerlove @jules-hazard @it-is-what-it-it-iss @kajukatliontop @floralbeast @mydogisgaytoo @lilhappylilsad @parihumay (if anyone knows their moved blog, pls notify me)

mother, o mother! by @akratiisalive, published in ayaskala magazine

the faces on cardboard stand so still, so stubborn;

some crooked, grinning, others flushed, skinny.

they perch so distinct yet so similar. so alive in the moment, dead soon after.

what do they say about the bodies they are attached to?

how spontaneous but motionless, such misdirects they create!

some jaws clenched, some eyes flashing red;

they froze the moment but fabricating the abstract sense.

after some sixteen nights,

the bodies live vicariously through the stationary smirks,

touching each other’s arms, rejoicing in

the nihilistic environment they concocted once.

its been several years since they faced the flash,

they have propagated the boards, one for each soul.

now the memory serves only when one roams about the storeroom.

so they do, if roam not often, but once a month.

“the cardboard emits different reflections”, each mutters.

time changed their vision and their power to resist what it brought-

faces on cardboards stand so still, so stubborn,

some crooked, grinning, flushing fiendish forms.

- @akratiisalive

People are mad that Netflix is doing everything gay now...if it was true why would they make Dorian and Basil brothers??? And I thought that they would let them be gay toghether as it supposed to be. Not brothers. They definitly weren't like brothers. Their relation was so gay that even my gramdma noticed it. Read the book Netflix!!

"How would you describe most of your favorite shows/books?"

Like this:

,,Fuck out my way when you see me

I'm rollin' with the LGBT 🏳️‍🌈"