#THIS PAINED ME TO DRAW FOR REASONS I DONT THINK I CAN SHARE BECAUSE OF SPOILERS

[wispexists]

Sharing memories (with the fey)

[wolvesandvisions]

to anyone who draws and experiences wrist pain like I do i. I figured out the blindspot to solving the pain. maybe this is obvious but whatever. im honestly I'm frustrated at myself for not knowing sooner bcs I was an athlete for so long. but what always confused and frustrated me was that no matter how much i stretched the pain wasnt going away

people always linked n shared resources to stretches and it'd give me temporary relief but not deal with the issue especially not any longer than the time it took me to stretch.

u do have to stretch. but u ALSO HAVE TO WORK OUT YOUR ARMS.

the reason we are hurting so much is because that muscle is doing a lot of repetitive and strenuous motion but the whole length of your arms and wrists aren't strong enough to withstand that much work.

u cant just stretch. buy a set of light-ish weights and just pick a set of wrist and arm workouts u like. do them often. stretch and do those work outs. i really dont even think it matters which you do I do a combination of this and this

just pick ones u like that are good for you, working out can be fun and not miserable i promise. do it. save ur wrists. my life has changed, i still feel pain but ive been able to work and not be ready to cry the next day from daring to try

[ronkeyroo]

A positive Update

Friends, kind folk - Hello Again 🤍

Ever since my last update post, I've been thinking about it , a lot ;; I knew I needed time to cook and reflect, and im so glad I gave myself that...

2024 started rough for me; I fell severely ill again - I was too busy cursing my life and dwelling over how betrayed I felt by things still not getting better despite my efforts that I didn't realize I was walking into a self fulfilling prophecy. Its true that the struggles I'm going through are yet to be solved, that its gotten so much to the point giving up seemed easier, and that a couple individuals haven't been making it easier on me either; I swayed and i rattled and I steered within feelings ranging from confusion to anger to dismay and all of this back and forth did nothing but remind me of yet another self-destructive loop I just don't want to allow in my life anymore. Its exactly the kinda stuff that made me ill to begin with, and I've been so lost dealing with everything in between that i forgot to tend to the actual core centering all of this...

It grew unbearable how much emotional and physical turmoil I was pushing myself into, and knowing how intertwined these two elements have been; I had to draw a line before i majorly screwed myself over, gathering any bit of inner will to discipline myself back into some sort of clarity, enough to at least look through a lens OUTSIDE my pain for once, towards the kind of life I want to lead, and the kind of life I don't; and I came to an understanding.

From my physical state to my mental, to the people and memories I've experienced, both the good and the bad - I want to prioritize the good.

Not in a shitty ass, toxic optimism kinda way but in a "I want to prioritize knowing and living the possibility that even when it hurts, even when i want to be gone, even when life doesn't align - There's still every good reason in the world to keep moving forward, to face things from a perspective of growth & compassion, and to grow to love the promise of a better tomorrow even when today was unbearable." To know that I don't end or begin in my suffering, that the infinite potential I speak so fondly of applies to me, as well...

I want to be able to wield and create and share that goodness, too, Especially when it is already in decline...And for all gods sake, to internalize that all of this STILL exists and STILL matters even when it doesn't work the first couple or dozens of times.

As for my place here in Tumblr...I know the sentiment might feel silly to some but the experiences, memories, and connections I've made here have truly been such a significant force in my life, and i don't want to give up on that ;; Not because of my own insecurities, or an inner state of hopelessness, and especially not over a bunch of emotionally immature Anons that dont know how to handle themselves; I want to forgive all of that.

I'm stubborn, and there's an unyielding force within me that no matter how many times it is struck down, it proved itself ridiculously resilient. I'm perking up with with a fiery confidence realizing just how many times it rose back up, enough to realize it is an unchangeable part of me ;_; I shouldn't underestimate that force, and I want to keep living by its side. Whatever positive change I can sprinkle onto my life and the lives of those I care for, I will! And the reason why this space in particular is so important to me, is because so much of that already exists here, alongside you folks;

THAT'S the kind of energy i want to nourish and walk into the new year with! I want to continue growing as a person, challenging my inner turmoils, undoing the self punishing dogmas that still haunt me, stop flexing my teeth over things that don't deserve my time and god DAMN, just - indulge in the stuff that makes me happy, even when I'm going through unhappy times.

So yeah...I guess that means, I'm back & I'm staying ;_;)🧡

I know i may seem like a broken record when it comes to expressing gratitude but - Thank you, thank you thank you everyone who have reached out for me, who so fondly kept me in their thoughts and kept encouraging me whenever i was hurting, both then and now...You folks mean more than whatever ailment or struggle I can go through, and while I'm unsure of how the future will look like as I'm still going through various challenges- I couldn't have asked for a cooler, sweeter audience to have by my side whenever Its time to take a rest or hype over our sexy delicious blorbos!

Speaking of which....................I have been cooking quite a lot of things in the time i was away 👀✨ I most definitely intend to serve them, eheheh

[kame-writes]

Concerning the media overlords au:

First of all: I love it! Thank you for sharing the idea with us <33

Second: Does Alastor live in the tower with the other Vees? And does Alastor still move into the hotel? If yes, on a scale of one to absolutely how sad/pissed/jealous is Vox after receiving this info?

3. I'd like to imagine Velvette's fingers are constantly itching to get ahold of that handsome deer man, who doesn't know how to dress himself properly or trendy, and give his wardrobe an upgrade. Could you imagine this happening? (Maybe with lots of alcohol involved. So that he would at least temporarily let her experiment with his clothes. Bonus points if she is able to take picture too. Vox would obviously make himself some copies for.. private reasons...) Do you see my vision?? Can you see it??

4. Can Vox convince Alastor to do more audio features within their network? Like podcasts or interviews and the like? Or are they just screams as well? (I recently discovered a podcast about cooking, where each week they talk about one ingredient and explain a recipe with it. I think this would fit Alastor's preferences very well.. tho the ingredients might not be as commonly used now that I think about it... anyhow... now I can't stop thinking about Hannibal and Alastor hosting a food podcast.. oops.. sorry, but not really)

5. You mentioned that Husk still works in his casino, if he isn't needed. Do you have any headcanons for Niffty's whereabouts?

Anyway that's all for now! Have a lovely day/night! <33

p.s. Sorry if this ask is intrusive. For some questions it's pretty clear that I've already imagined something for myself that may or may not fit with your vision of this au. If you feel like I overstepped, feel free to ignore this or send me an alastor_fuck_u. gif :D

Im am very happy to have questions asked! You have no idea how many ideas i have and dont know what to do with xD

I'd love to see other peoples headcanons and ideas for this universe, if anyone does anything for it then please tag me so i can see ^^

This is gonna get long so I've put it under a read more

2: No one is really sure if he lives there or just works there. He HAS his own suite in the tower, but he's not always there when they go look for him, and not being able to find him is very a common occurrence, made more frustrating because he refuses to carry or awnser the mobile phone they forced on him. He hangs around in the common areas like the kitchen and living room sometimes. And if they do manage to rope him into something like a movie night its a huge hassle, because he will insist on a black and white or silent film if he HAS to engage with the tv, and Vel and Val hate those.

The whole top of the Tower is dominated by his large Radio tower though, its slightly seperated from the rest of the building, suspended above it with a staircase/ladder to enter the hatch. Valentino is usually not brave enough to check there for Alastor.

Its the same with the hotel. He does move into his own room there, but goes back and forth a lot, and doesnt have a schedule. Vox tires to pretend hes fine with it at first but often ends up the hotel to be a pain in the ass to Charlie, and getting kicked out by the staff of Alastor. Hes convinced himself that Alastor will lose interest sooner rather than later, and the others just tune out his whining at this point. No one buys it when he claims he didnt even notice Alastor was gone as soon as the Radio Demon gets back to the tower.

3: I may be planning to draw this haha He does let her dress him up ocassionally, he has a few differant suits he's approved of and kept, but does wear his original the most the time. Velvette has a line of 'Vintage chic' clothing that partly started as a way to get Alastor to agree to changing his 'ratty ass old man style' by appealing to clothes that were updated takes on his era. He still very rarely leaves the tower in anything but his own usual attire.

He does on rare occasions allow photos to be taken of him by the vees (and once, later on by charlie, under strict instructions that she keeps it to herself) but no video. And none under any circumstances are allowed on social media. He has blown up a few phones that have attempted, both the Vees and employees.

4: Alastor has agreed to be on a podcast a few times, but its rare, and only if its somehting hes really interested in talking about. It's one of the few modern things he approves of since its just a version of a radio talk show. Same with interviews, he keeps them even more extremly rare, and the mystery of the radio Demon keeps sinners in fear more than him being in the public. Vox always wants him to do more since the ratings sky rocket when Alastor features.

When Alastor has done an interview it is with his back to the camera, and sitting in a large wingbacked stupidly over the top ornate chair, that hides him from being seen, except maybe the top tuffs of his ears and antlers. And he doesnt reveal much about himself when he does. The chair is partly to hide him, and partly to stop the equitment form glitching too much. He likes to pulls faces and makes gestures deliberatly made to make Vox falter and look stupid on camera, since hes the only one who can see him in that chair.

He has teased on his own radio show that one 'lucky' sinner may get the chance to be on both a guest star on his radio broadcast AND a livestream if the mood takes. Valentino had to inform him that what he's referring to is called a snuff film

5: Niffty gets moved to the hotel pretty much full time once Alastor gets involved, Husk is a part time employee, but ends up spending less time at his casino as time goes on.

Valentino is happy Niffty is gone because she creeps him out, she ocassionally hung around his studio during work hours, especially if theyre doing a scene with 'bad boys'. Vox isn't bothered. Velvette is not happy, especially that Niffty is reduced to a maid/janitor for the hotel, and makes that very known to Alastor. Velvette loves Niffty, they are chaos sisters and work on very sketchy sounding potions together, and gang up against the boys.

Niffty is also a great seamstress herself and brings her designs to Velvette like an excited child showing off their latest art project. Almost none of these get used, but Vel has fun forcing models to parade around the studio and work in something Nifftys made, they often include bugs and bodyparts, Velvette finds this halarious.

[hexhomos]

I don’t know if you’ve already answered this but is there a reason for why you draw Viktor (pre Machine Herald) taller than Jayce? I know you aren’t drawing Arcane’s Viktor and I know Machine Herald is 6’2 while Jayce is 6’0 but I haven’t been able to find anything about his height before he evolved. Am I thinking too much about this and it’s actually just an artistic style? Or like, maybe it’s just the way you like (or are used to) to draw? him

Generally speaking: there is no Hard Canon explanation for it, Its something I've chosen because I think a lanky bodytype suits him (my leaguevik has messed about with hormones way earlier as well) and its cute, like a long flappy stringpuppet!

But on a completely different axis:

I started to get genuinely uncomfortable with the ways fandom would exaggerate arcane's height difference, more often than not babyfying or ukefying viktor (or professing him to be "Inherently More Effeminate" via stature) to make jayvik fit very limiting cishet gender role boxes. This comes paired with the "aggressor cis jayce" tropes and is Very Common and I wasn't vibing with it at all. The other thing it sidesteps is the overwhelming anorexia-chic style of vik fanart; you can draw thin people without making them look like proana adverts and I've seen a fair share of depictions of him that struck me in a *really* weird idolizing the consumption and pain way. Making him into a long rectangle gets rid of that. And tbh it also feels like people take his character more seriously when he's not something that can be easily sorted into the above categories? I dont want my fanwork to feel like it's playing into these tropes, or feeding into the cycle where they are The Only Thing Allowed To Ever Exist.

My league designs are a conscious effort to make things I don't see often. I want to make ship art without it being a determinist "so THIS is the top and THIS is the bottom" sentence. It's not how I interface with my sexuality and I personally don't think its how jayce or viktor would go about it either. Distancing myself from common fanon signifiers and their expected baggage allows my audience to embark in this beautiful wubbyland adventure with me, and also helps me not go completely insane

[pepper-steam-milkshake]

i think what people tend to forget (seeing all these posts on my feed atm) is at the end of the day, YOU curate your own fandom experience. there is ALWAYS going to be someone who makes content you dont like. there is a very good chance that someone whose content you do like will make content you dont like for one reason or another.

things to keep in mind?

the content someone creates is not indicative of their nature. for fuck’s sake how many times have you seen someone who looks and acts absolutely sweet and then makes the most fucked up cursed shit youve ever seen— and vice versa. the content they make is not their personality. jfc, if someone writes a story about fairies, are you gonna go, “oh, they’re secretly a fairy”? NO. so it would be appropriate to apply that to other content that you as an individual may find inappropriate

if you see something you dont like, instead of taking the time and energy to give hate to it, just walk away and leave it alone. why do you want to continue engaging with it. is fueling those few minutes of anger truly worth being an asshole? PEOPLE make content. thats right— people with feelings, emotions, experiences, memories, and lives of their own. someone took the time to write something, and then to not only write that thing but then share it with the world in spite of whatever lingering feelings they may have to it. if youre gonna shit talk, do it in private. dont do it right where the artist can see.

with today’s day and age, it is nigh impossible to avoid minors, and the same goes for adults. everyone finds their way into a space somehow. we’re all enjoying the content, and we’re all enjoying it in different ways for different reason. occasionally it’ll match up, but you cannot expect someone to share your opinions and your own view of morality. if you think murder is bad and you hate that someone keeps making the characters in your show kill people, the solution isn’t to say “youre a bad person and you shouldnt be okay with murder”. thats not the statement theyre making. also just leave them alone???

if you dont like the content and want to see something different, instead of suggesting that they make it differently, make it yourself. “i cant draw”— PRACTICE. drawing is a pain in the ass for me. im not great at it but i still practice because i want to make the content i want to see. “i cant write”—PRACTICE. experiment and try new things. “but its going to be bad”— MAKE IT BAD. everyone starts somewhere, and the only way to make your version of better is to improve on your version of bad.

just some thoughts

[alazyparallelworld]

sending an ask to engage with what you were saying was a random impulse but im happy to see you respond and give it thought, definitely wouldnt mind sending more since this is an interesting topic :3 glad you dont mind... it can be weird being a detached observer of somebody elses life specifically if they are uncomfortable with the idea of it. i think the reason i jump to using the word "oversharing" is that talking a lot generally has a negative connotation for me because i have negative experiences with talking a lot and being ignored. i guess one of my main insecurities? so maybe i dont have the same type of accidental charisma because im too obviously desperate/curating myself too much, idk. marketing myself as a persona isnt necessarily a good goal to have so maybe sharing myself in more private spaces is for the best (not like i dont compulsively share to anyone who will listen anyway)

also being the way that i am i dont appreciate the observers/audience i DO have enough because im constantly looking for evidence of it. kind of a never enough situation. i definitely think i just have to let it go & if it happens it happens. actually, i do have a decent chance of gaining a following over my art, and when i got more interactions i swear it was when i drew more, so i guess that is part of whats happening with you. art drawing people into somebodys persona or something? i wonder if part of it is just like, when scrolling the dash peoples attention is caught more by images so it makes somebody more likely to get invested. but i think your art has a lot of personality and its what personally made me interested in following your blog so i guess the art is just like, one piece of the whole of a "persona"

diving into the pure psychological sense… going to put the entirety under a read more.

leans back, in the "contemplating therapist" pose and aura. This is a distinct position for anyone familiar.

forgive - me - in the event of bad perspective. entirely: i am not a medical professional, and if these woes are Distorting your life into an unhappiness (ability to function, socialize, that ilk) on a regular basis, either from the 'expected' of bi-weekly to the 'constant' of daily - internet guidance should be an appetizer, at best…!! while a peer's view is quite different from a, "Went to college for half-decade for this particularity" employee, they are both helpful -

but I don't mean. "Go to a therapist," because: i minimized my daily-distortion of BPD (fond Bitch Personality Disorder) thru worksheets, pamphlets, scientific texts. this conversation between us is 'improper' text, ""Uneducated"" but it is not without merit. I just don't want the existence of only two options - "[symptom of mental disorder] reddit" or "therapist that specializes in [mental disorder]" in an analogy. There are a plethora of ways to better yourself - "so maybe sharing myself in more private spaces is for the best" cannot be the single possibility. i believe in you - broaden yourself, and do not hastily imprison yourself to Any distraught for the easy answer, "better in the long run"

what you desire is evident. That is a crucial first step, and your life is measured in the thousands of footprints. Time is here for you - there is no real clock, rather, you know where your satisfaction is in space. Be proud of self-awareness, of identifying desire, these are inch forwards.

now, your path forks - "can i transfigure that want, into something 'healthier," "is there a healthier route to that want," and how exciting is that…! how to min-max pain and pleasure, that is the basis of all species. and if the decision solidifies further into, "i have to go home, i have to let this all go," that is the first option. there is no shame in release.

that is my thought on. "insecurity," and i hope - even if very inaccurate, maybe Inappropriate, your reaction of 'that's wrong!' strengthens what you know to be true.

[head on desk] That's a heaviness…! not on you. This could've been a very simple answer. I'm strange and chattery, for I don't talk IRL and only online. At least, in length…

ART…! art is eye-catching. It is intrinsic. Of course, my artwork pulls people in (but I captured attention b4 I started, as I only began in winter 2020, blah) for any colorful stimuli it kickstarts the brain. Nervous symptom responses.

(i don't think it provokes the sympathetic nervous system SPECIFICALLY, but i'm not abt to rabbit-hole myself into certainty. sensory is prolly also incorrect, just in a 'less wrong' kind. i'm singling out nervous specifically, as the 'colorful'ness of art prolly agitates the body first into, 'is this a toxic plant' survivalism and NOT the visual aesthetics of being 'pleasing to the brain,' i think that's a secondry concern, aaaand i'm rambling abt special interest SORRY)

word-of-mouth, 'reblogs,' or searches is how people notice the un-art. Fanfic writers. Clever meta. Observations. Diary-ing. to 'appeal,' you have to either - as mentioned previously - change yourself, or redirect your goal - but for less extensive… Journaling via pen-and-paper, or a notes app, is easy in THEORY but difficult in PRACTICE. these don't fulfill the, 'exchange,' because journals and notes are private. However. These are good practices. Writing onto yourself sharpens the ability to communicate, your dialect - there's a difference of 'early' ramblings here to current ones. (admittedly, a, 'there's been developments in psychosis,' is a portion rather than True improvement, but it's not a singularity)

review sites i.e letterboxd and backloggd serve similarity, but are dedicated to movies/video games respectively. And, they center around either criticism, or humor - which isn't what you want… you want your natural self to be attractive. I do think you could find enjoyment outside, and it can be good fun or a learning exercise finding out that You Hate Writing Meta.

[enetarch-happiness]

2024-11-15

For the past 2 weeks ive been dealing w a fever, stomach pain, rash, swollen tonsils, body aches and pains, other issues. Ive gone through a lot of testing and still more to go through. A CT scan has shown that my liver is having issues.

Taking care of my body has been a big part of my life as i hope to live to 150 yrs old. Medical science is progressing at a rapid pace. Maybe whats happening to my liver is nothing, maybe its something. But, the goal still remains .. to take care of my body and be happy while im here.

Im not looking for support, instead, i want to teach you how to be happy 95% of the time.

Ive gone through a lot of shit in my life, and used to wonder if i would ever be happy. What a lot of self help books get wrong is the focus on .. A Positive Attitude .. The reason why this is wrong is that when you catch yourself in a negative attitude, you beat yourself up automatically. This just reinforces the problem you are trying to correct. There is a better way.

Emotions in ADHDrs are triggered by external events. Our emotions switch per event. From this perspective, ADHDrs can group events into 3 catagories .. neutral, positive and negative events .. then we can look at how often these 5ypes of events occure .. 95%, 5%, and < 1%, respectively.

If negative events only occure leas than <1% of the time, why do they get such an outsized amount of time in our brains. Its because of the negative thought storm they create. Our brains get one negative event, which reminds us of another negative moment, which triggers a conversation w our internal monologue, and triggers more negative emotions, and the cycle repeats.

If this cycle happens automatically in our brans, then the positive cycle can also happen in our brains. Maybe we just need to learn how to do it manually, until it becomes automatic. And, maybe i can find ways to turn the neutral events into positive events to reinforce the training.

My medical problems have been testing this process. Every test is a positive event. The results may not be positive, but how i share them, work with them, decide the next step is. If, in the end, i dont live to 150, i will have experienced what it is to be happy, at peace, w gratitude, snd surrounded by friends who care.

As an ADHDr i externalize my emotions by drawing emojies to see how i feel. And, i curate positive events to keep myself in a happy state. And, im extending this simple philosphy into other aspects of my life. By adding emojies to ToDos i can now see what ToDos i want to do. I start w those ToDos to get s running start that will move my mind from a .. i think i can do this .. to a .. Can Do!! .. attitude. Its a lot of fun to watch.

While my medical issues may impact my long term goals, i will still do what i can, when i can, and for as long as i can. Regardless of the hurdles though, the goal is there to remind me of what im aspiring to do, and i use that to motivate me to work on the next bit. The next small step that i can accomplish to move me closer to a goal. Its like a game w small fun wins.

Hope this helps you find a happy life.

[verathena14]

listen i KNOW people wanna vote for pearlina (that is their ship name, right?) but PLEASE HEAR ME OUT. Soriku have been in love for 21 YEARS, and the only reason they aren't canon yet is because of Disney. But there is so much evidence and potential for their relationship to become canon that someone (the super cool tennelle flowers!) was able to create a 6-HOUR video essay about it. If that doesn't say something about their plausibility, then I don't know what does.

more propaganda + aforementioned video essay under cut:

Fellas, is it gay to give your bestie your family heirloom when they get scared of a meteor shower as kids and hold up a wooden sword and swear you'll always protect them? Is it gay to be overcome with feelings of jealousy when said best friend starts hanging out with a girl? Is it gay to joke about sharing a magical fruit with him that means your destinies will be intertwined? Is it gay to open the door to darkness when he draws a picture of himself sharing THAT SAME fruit with the girl you're jealous of? Is it gay to realize that you fucked up and sacrifice yourself to save your best friend and the girl he likes because you know it's more important that he's happy? Is it gay to spend an entire YEAR watching over your comatose best friend while his memories get repaired, and say multiple times "everything is for Sora"? Is it gay to see someone who, for some reason, appears to look like your best friend (xion) and stroke their face? Is it gay to give up your form and take the body of the person who manipulated you into falling to darkness in the first place to help your best friend wake up? Is it gay to avoid him even when he looks for you, saying "there were some things [riku] couldn't tell sora. it had always been that way" in a VERY closeted-gay manner? Is it gay to have your best friend fall to his knees when he FINALLY finds you and cries "i looked for you! i looked everywhere for you!" after he just shared a very awkward hug with the girl he supposedly likes? Is it gay to throw yourself in the way of a devastating blow, earning yourself a scar and probably chronic pain in the process? Is it gay to sit with your best friend in LITERAL HELL and say you'd be fine there as long as you're together? Is it gay to UNCONSCIOUSLY CHANGE YOUR ENTIRE SPECIES to protect your best friend in his dreams? Is it gay to have a conversation with Hunchback of Notre Dame characters about "having to keep things from the outside world, at least until you have time to figure them out" (THIS IS A METAPHOR FOR BEING IN THE CLOSET)? Is it gay to have your combined hearts' song be called "dearly beloved"? Is it gay to think of your best friend as your light? Is it gay to parallel LITERALLY EVERY DISNEY COUPLE UNDER THE SUN? Is it gay to refer to your best friend as your "taisetsu na hito" (roughly translates to "precious/ cherished person" or "person I love most") and say that your "doubts and fears are gone" and your adoptive father (michael mouse. dont ask) tells you "perhaps it's because you've finally found that special strength to protect the things that matter (the JP line is taisetsu na hito; the english translators made it very no-homo)"? Is it gay to sacrifice yourself again for your best friend? Is it gay to call out your best friend's name when you're about to collapse and see him FALLING FROM THE SKY and stare at him with the BIGGEST HEART-EYES EVER? Is it gay to have your souls form a giant rainbow-colored sword with a giant heart at the top? Is it gay to care so much for your best friend that you let him go save the girl (who's dead now oops) that you still think he likes because you're too oblivious to realize that HE LOVES YOU BACK IDIOT? (tbf tho neither of them realize it; sora's goin thru some major comphet)

Is it gay to have SO MUCH gay subtext that someone can make a 6-hour video essay about why you're homosexual?

Pearl & Marina (Splatoon) VS Sora & Riku (Kingdom Hearts)

[dudadragneel]

Hello guys, it's me!

How are you?

I just wanted to come here to share a thought on what happened today.

So apparently Han wasnt looking his best, he didnt seem that joyful performing and from what I've seen he took part in the stage recording but not on the activities? (Please do correct me if I'm wrong)

I decided to come here and say something because I know what's like to worry about an these boys health, specially when we dont have any official statements. We like them, we feel close to them, they matter to us, of course we get worried. But I know what's like to feel really worried, to the point that it affects you. I had an anxiety crisis back in 2017 because back then, BTS weren looking healthy at all with all those comebacks, and I cared about them deeply.

To some it might seem futile, but it isnt, dont let anyone belittle your pain, your worriness with that lazy excuse of "oh, but he doesnt even know you exist" I hate that. Back then, I couldng go to school for a week, I'd get to the gate and feel nausea, heart racing, feel faint and I'd ask my mom to take me back home. It was one of the worst times of my life.

What I want to say is, we know Han deals with anxiety/social anxiety. As someone with anxiety and social anxiety as well (I'm not trying to impose that this is what's happening to him, but I'm trying to see if from the perspective of someone who suffers the same), sometimes it just gets triggered and a lot of those times, we dont know what triggered it. This crisis/attacks can come at any time, and unfortunately it's "normal" for it to happen, we cant always control it.

Sometimes, a person can be able to do a certain activity and not the other (record the stage performance/staying with public). Sometimes what helped you once, my not help you now. And it's normal for that to happen.

Comeback season is packed with stress for these boys (generally speaking), imagine how it feels to someone who deals with anxiety. It can get too much, even if it's something you love doing.

If this is what's happening to him, I hope he is given the time he needs (these things dont have a due date) to recover and feel better.

Also, I want to thank the boys deeply for taking care of him. As someone noticed on a video, whenever Han feels down, the others seem to quiet down as well, they are less chaotic, and to me, it feels like they do that in respect to him. Which I think is beautiful. Because sometimes, when in an anxiety crisis, one may want the others to be cheerful around them so they can overcome it. Other times, one might prefer quietness, or to be left alone.

Just gonna say something that happened to me, maybe you'll relate to or not.

I had an anxiety crisis a few years back when I couldnt draw. I didnt know what caused it but I just couldnt do it. I love drawing, I love painting with all my heart, I've been doing art since 11 years old. But in that time, I wanted to draw but I just couldnt, I'd pick up the art supplies and I'd feel this eerie feeling, sometimes my heart would start racing. I hated that so much, because I couldnt find the cause to that.

Eventually I would gather courage and force myself to do it, always thinking "dont think about not doing perfectly the way that's in your mind, just do it". Little by little, I got back to it. So, it happens, anxiety sucks and we dont really have a cure for it, we can get it controlled.

To anyone out there who suffers with anxiety and you're on medication, dont let anyone tell you that you dont need medication and it's all in your mind. Not always are we able to control it ourselves, sometimes we need help. It's okay to need medication, they are there for a reason. And if you're on medication and you happen to have an attack or a crisis, remember (this is what I tell myself all the time)

- dont think that the medication is not having effect anymore and you need to increase the dosage. Instead, remember this "Since I've been on medication, has it decreased? Yes. But will it happen sometimes? Yes. But now you know it will get better faster than when you had to deal with it on your own"

I always think that whenever I happen to be more anxious than normal since I begun my medication. I know it may happen but I know it will get better, so I work towards it. If I wasnt on medication, who knows when it would get better?

Anyways, sorry for all this. I like to be open about things here because I needed to read things like this in the past. And maybe it might help someone.

Remember: this blog is a safe place for everyone. You can come talk to me any time about anything (good things or bad things)

Stay safe, my dears!

💜

[gay-dorito-dust]

I read like all your werewolf by night stuff and they were amazing. I need more jack Russell and just fell in love with him instantly. Okay enough with me rambling but if you dont mind can you write Jack with reader. And could be reader be thinking about #24 to Jack and think jack deserves better than them?

A/n: I’m very humbled that you like my werewolf by night stuff. I saw the lack of fics and decided to do something about it cuz that’s a crime to Jack Russell. So if anything I’m blessed with the ability to get to write for this character. He deserves it.🦦

Prompt list

Prompt 24- you deserve so much better then me.

‘He’s so beautiful it physically hurts.’ You thought to yourself as you looked down at Jack’s sleeping face, running your fingers through his hair as per your morning ritual, watching adoringly as his features were bathed in the soft golden glow of morning. You felt unworthy of a love as pure as Jack’s. You felt like a fraud, a fake, a deceiver of his trust even when you’ve kept his secret tightly to your chest as though it was your own.

You couldn’t pinpoint where these feelings came about but you were stuck with them either way and you had to deal with it. Never had you ever been given reason to doubt your relationship with Jack; He has been nothing less then kind, caring, attentive and overall the standard of what a romantic partner should be. You, on the other hand, only believed yourself to being selfish and taking advantage of the kindness given to you. Out of everyone Jack could’ve possibly chosen, he chose you and every day since then you’ve asked yourself why?

Why out of every possible suitor did his heart chose you? What made you special in comparison because each time you looked in a reflective surface of that a mirror or a river, you only saw boring, bland, you staring back. Your eyes didn’t hold stars within them, your smile didn’t beam brightly and you neither lighten up a whole room upon arrival nor made heads turn in your direction. You didn’t understand how Jack could look at you with unconditional love within his eyes and proudly hold your hand in his own without any ounce of shame of being seen with you. It didn’t make sense to you that someone like him could find you remotely attractive never less attractive.

Sensing that your hand had stopped stroking his hair, Jack opened a bleary eye, groaning softly, as he looked to see that your eyes were afar from reality as you were deeply lost in thought. Naturally he was less to believe something has been troubling you for awhile as he slept and he sat himself up against the headboard. “Y/n?” He said softly, knowing that by this time of day Ted was potentially making a mess out of your kitchen in an attempt of making you all tea. Another reasoning behind his choice in tone was that Jack didn’t want to alert his friend by raising his voice by raising his voice above a certain volume.Ted’s intentions towards many things were pure but due to his hulking mass of foliage and fungi, Ted was susceptible to causing accidental damage of his surroundings.

“Y/n.” Jack tired once again, this time making his voice loud enough to draw you back to the reality of your shared bedroom. “Nice to see that sleeping beauty has finally awakened.” You joked, going into press a kiss to his forehead only for him to move away, causing a twinge of pain in your chest. “Jack?” You asked, pulling away, rummaging through your head of what you had done in recent memory to earn that type of reaction. “What’s wrong?” You were worried that Jack had finally came to his sense and realised that you weren’t compatible with him and that he was going to admit in falling out of love with you. “I think I should be asking you that question,” Jack reached a hand to hold your cheek, stroking his thumb against the skin there almost reassuringly, “what’s wrong, you seem to be getting more and more lost in your thoughts nowadays. Let me help, you trust me right?”

“Of course I trust you Jack!” You cried, “I just…” your voice quietened gradually, “it’s…it’s stupid. Nothing worth you loosing sleep over.” Hurt by your hesitance to open up about your issues, Jack felt as though he wasn’t doing right by you as your partner in tackling your problems together and genuinely believed for the briefest of moments that you were falling out of love with him. “If it’s hurting you then it isn’t stupid, I’d rather lose all the sleep I could possibly get if it meant lifting the burden from your shoulders.” He says, resting his forehead against your own, closing his eyes, “when we entered a relationship together we agreed that whatever adversity we face, we face together. So let me fight by your side and rid you of your inner demons. For seeing you suffering in silence breaks my heart.” You brought your hands to hold his face, pushing your forehead against his own as you felt tears well behind your eyes.

“You deserve so much better then me Jack.” You finally admitted, not looking at him in fear of gauging his reaction, “I’m unworthy of being your friend never less your lover; Your soul is so full of light that I fear that one day I would only dampens it into extinction. I fear that one day you’d wake up and realise truth within my words and start looking elsewhere for someone who would look perfect right by your side, realise that in the end I wasn’t anything special.” Jack’s eyes seemed to shine with hurt and disbelief at your words that it only made you hate yourself even more if that was even possible. How could you dump your troubles onto the most genuine man you’ve been met, what gave you the privilege to do that to Jack? God you were so fucking selfish that you were borderline crying for reassurance that you didn’t fully deserve.

Jack didn’t want to believe what he was hearing. It felt wrong hearing such venom come from your mouth and aimed at yourself because to Jack every single word was absolutely false. The demons within your head was plaguing you and he couldn’t do anything about it. Jack knew it was near impossible for him to convey his every emotion through words, seeing as they’d only get him so far without gradually starting to sound repetitive and insincere. It frustrates him greatly that he didn’t take the signs he was seeing and piecing them together to see the full picture. How could he see so clearly yet after so blindsided.

“I don’t like it when you say things like that. To me,” Jack removed his hand from your cheek to lift your chin so that you were staring him in the eye, “you’re perfect. You truly don’t understand the extent of my feelings for you and I don’t think I do either as I find it difficult to even find the words to describe how you make me feel. In my eyes, you brighten up every room you’ve walked into, your eyes shine as though god plucked two of the brightest stars in the sky and placed them there. In my eyes, no one has a laugh as beautiful or as infectious as yours, no one has a heart as unique.” Jack placed a kiss to your cheeks, wiping away the tears there in the process as he smiled lovingly at you when he pulls away. “You wanna know why?” “Why?” You asked, desperate to know his innermost thoughts about you. However instead of words, Jack pressed a chaste kiss against your lips, pulling away just as you were about to reciprocate, “I love you so very much.”

Lost within your little moment, neither of you noticed Ted standing on the doorway of your room with two cutesy cups of tea within his significantly larger hands, not wanting to interrupt the scene before him but also not sure how to inform either of you that the tea was going to go cold.

[youabandonedthem]

hey @ottiliere i ilke your dirk au i hope is ok that i put some of my headcanons into it. in my comic slick gets dragged to the psych ward so i thought a crossover where they meet would be awesome.  if you keep reading here is some of my speculation on what they could do together

 in this roommates scenario it is impossible for dirk to really ignore him like he can do with other patients. and if we say in a context where they're not both being tormented/put into comas by seroquel something very interesting can happen .

like even if dirk is rude and irritable and deliberately tries to get him to fuck off tihs is obviously not off putting to slick in the slightest. for multiple reasons. one because hes a rough mobster and thats him but mostly in this scenario he's like "ok fuck it im in the nuthouse for the time being and it's injustified and the people here are gonna be a little quirky but there is a chance they share my situation." the other patients are scared of/used to slick (they know who he is) so they pretty much ignore him if he tries to preach his truth or talk them up. or like i can see some entertaining his need to chat but just saying stuff like "sure Slick.." "yeah..." trying not to encourage his insane thoughts. so he eventually stops bothering/trusting them since they dont get it. the rest he has deemed too actually crazy for his company. e.g. he meets another schizophrenic individual and they have DIFFERENT "beliefs" or they have hallucinations so hes like get away from me psycho. (his diagnosis is FAKE!!!) hes caught on to the fact that the more he talks to the nurses the longer he has to stay. so hes so fucking bored and has had no one to REALLY talk to outside of occasional crew visits for a while now. so once dirk arrives he would take an extreme interest in both him and little cal and try to take him under his wing because hes pretty much just a kid who simply "did not draw the best cards" in slicks eyes. And i think while he's talking at dirk and sharing things such as the BULLSHIT reason hes there... random details about his life...a mutual interest could possibly begin once he learns that this completely schizo ass carapace bug man is a crimelord mafia boss. plus it possibly appeals to him that slick doesnt seem to mind his "mannerisms" . plus slick starts teaching him how to game the nurses so he can get out faster

they can possibly...sort of... bond over self harm although they do it for very different reasons. slick does not care about cutting his skin open to prove a point but essentially he thinks nothing of things like cutting any part of his body open using various tools just to achieve whatever goal he thinks it will solve. he doesnt like pain but doesnt flinch very hard . I think if he sees dirk having successfully found a way to cut his wrists in the room he would watch and htink "this kid is fucked" but not intervene or report besides probably asking him wtf hes doing the first time. if dirk gives him a rude or non - answer he just asks him how hes planning to hide it from the nurses. after that he accepts it and hes like ok sure. (addendum slick just angrily tells him to knock that shit off unless he wants to stay in crazy town for another month. he starts treating it like he treats droog smoking ...knocking the razorblade out of his hands etc. i am not sure at what point hed stop bothering. i think it is a matter that hed BEGIN bothering once he starts thinking dirk needs his help..perhaps in the first/second instance he did not intervene) BUT if he saw dirk slamminghis head on the wall he would be like heey the fuck? whoa whoa whoa thats your brain case kid are you trying to go retarded? he begins feeling responsible. (it is them vs the Nurses and Doctors in this sick sick building) also i think dirk would just do these things in the room once hes assessed that slick (at the bare minimum) wouldnt tell on him. this is after theyre all buddy buddy . Mostly i'm talking about slick's end as to present it with the knowledge i have and not make any DIRK ASSUMPTIONS !

theyowuld possibly even help each other try to escape they could even fucking succeed ...slick would fashion lethal weapons for both of them out of various shit he found/stole and dirk would take one although i dont think he would use it .slick would be showing him stabbing motions using his shank and dirk can teach him his dirk tricks . They would make it together and get to the outside world and never see each other ever again. this is really the circumstance of two completely unrelated characters put in the same cage and forced to work together. but i think it would work

dirk would really be the one trying to tolerate slick for a long time before he warms up to him a little if at all . slick is so fucking lonely that he doesnt care what the fuck dirk does plus hes way older so he has control of the dynamic really. maybe his crude earnesty appeals to dirk but hes also overly aware how insane and delusional slick is but they do form this alliance. i am also thinking they could have some "art" connection which would be honestly kind of cute and funny if dirk is drawing very IRONIC offputting work for a bit and if slick were to be present he would gesture to take his pen andthen casually draw huge boobs/COCK and/or a really shitty caricature of dirk onto the page with emphasis on his huge bleeding wrists and the glasses. I think this would be a defining moment that is literally only ever possible in this context ever . it is a testament to their trapped animal mentality.

Hypothetical drawing by slick

basically it is like arranged marriage. theywouldnt even give each other the time of day or look at each other more than a few seconds if they were not roommates in crazy town. PLUS slick has been trying to be a good boy unlike dirk so maybe he has more privileges eg pointy objects so he could enable dirk to draw in the first place. or he steals the pen for him. also slick would be stealing dirk extra pudding cups from the cafeteria (he just grabs them off of other peoples trays) upon seeing how horrifically bony he is. hes like: kid youre scrawny as fuck. anyone feed you at home? and i dont think dirk would have any response to this question he would turn away and stop talking to slick.

the topic of interest: their viewpoints of each other and what their relationship could actually be...defined as. there is much to consider here. if this narrative had one ultimate point to display i think that it would be the nature of transient relationships. and this showcases a lot the disparity of their different perspectives. (below) 

>slick's pov. obviously he knows the ways of this world and a good idea of the relations he has and wants to keep unlike dirk. he has nothing hed label as a"friendship" but he has deep connections. let's say his age range translated to human terms is mid - late 30s not for official purposes but like experience/maturity(?) wise. (i debated whether he could be entering his 40s but slick is not that mature really... 40s is like settling down wife n kids. at least this works for this specific instance) obvy he is still a triple digits age chitinous bug creature. ANYWAY... at first dirk is just some kid whos providing him entertainment in this dull schizo jail. but he realises they can help each other out here. (the event that prompts this is probably when dirk tries to fight security and gets bootyjuiced) it's reminiscent of the karkat alliance ...they have a common goal which is gettingthe fuck out without any setbacks. slick possibly had an escape plan (serpentine like his heists) in the midst of hatching prior to dirks arrival but you see he has a 'crew' mentality. the only plan he came up with is missing a vital second person to help carry it out. (or he had a really shitass solo plan with a small chance of working out that he was going to try if he got DESPERATE. the key thing is he wouldn't want to do anything he thinks wouldnt work because again he specialises in heists which NEED to go well with everything accounted for. but he was honestly on the verge of trying it...until dirk came along and changed his life)

but like hes still not exactly 'using' dirk he does connect and see value in him as a companion due to all the aforementioned scenarios and this is why he chooses him as the worthy candidate for his PLAN. this is what causes him to feel that 'responsibility' for him i would think. not through any kind of paternal instinct but the same obligation that caused him to try to comfort karkat that one time when he was crying (and then start slapping the shit out of him). i mean i dont want to call it paternal...but he realises that he is THE adult in this situation and the only one 'in charge' of this kid in a way. also hes uncomfortable with displays of emotion/mental illness so if his most basic awkward attempt to fix it doesn't work he just starts using force (as displayed in the karkat example). this would encapsulate his reaction towards dirk self harming. ok the point is he sees it like this: they are together to help each other. and then it's a done deal. then they'll both fuck off to their 'normal lives' he figures. if he ever saw him agian of course hed be like oh its that kid. fuck was his name...Dick? but that's really it for slick. nothing deeper. now DIRK ON THE OTHER HAND... 

>DIRK MODE. it is not really that he 'hates' people and people hate him there is more like an absence of meaningful connection. or connection altogether. his friend is a doll . if this is the first time in 20ish years anyone has actually shown they respect him as an equal this encounter is going to impact him for the rest of his life. and not only would he likely use slicks treatment of him as his baseline for future possible relations but he would also become sort of obsessed with him after this whole thing is done.he has literally no one else. like maybe he doesnt even realise it at first until theyve parted ways and he goes back to wherever he lives and hejust sits there with little cal and little cal does not talk back to him. and it hits him. it's like the dark gritty version of the hero's journey..he went to the other world and was given a tool towards realisation. and now hes just back in his shit reality . but it is important that obviously this singular encounter cannot undo anything he learned over 20+ years. but he got a taste of something novel that he thought only existed for other people.(?) or was played up for fiction even . but it was real. he knows slick was crazy and did awful heinous crimes for fun. but he was nice(?) to him and helped him and wanted to be around him . there is really nothing that will be able to change his mind about this.

hegoes through life that is identical to what he had before the psych ward and whoever he encounters treats him the same uncaring way as they did before (or potentially worse/with more pity or judgment if theyre aware of his stay) and this time he thinks about how slick didnt judge him for anything and actually cared about him . he did not stare at his arms with fear/pity like other ppl do. everything what slick did for him gets played up in his mind. the brand of pudding he stole for him sticks out at the store. he sees unabashed schizo shit online and it reminds him of slicks occasional rants. he sees criminal activity reported in the paper and wonders if it was slick's crew (he mentioned the existence of his crew...Or imagine if it was visiting time and slick brought dirk along to meet them at one point...this cna be expanded on) 

i feel like this may help lead him into a dangerous situation in the future depending on how it develops. ok another important factor is slick's age relative to him. dirk possibly hypothesises that slick is around the age of mister dave.(this can mean something if you want it to) PLUS any other actual adults who were in his life (teachers..dave...anyone else) just treat him completely like a child. this could result in something interesting..the way that slick regarded him as an equal (at least in dirks perception) and was way older. i think whatever he takes away from this will fuck him over.

additionally i think it is possible he couldget desperate again for what the psych ward symbolised for him and he pulls a supremely bad suicide attempt that is guaranteed to fail for literal attention. he gets warded again but of course slick isnt there and hes just alone there like in original dirk psychward context. except this time he completely feels the emptiness. and hhis radical attempt try to attain it again just didnt work.

but i also think a second chance encounter years after this incident would truly highlight the differences in their mentalities . based on my dirk knowledge  i think he would not try to show any feelings and regard slick very casually even though his mind would be on the verge of collapse . a lot would depend on the span of time and what happened in between ofcourse and if he was given the opportunity to meet...anyone else... or develop any more social skills at all. additionally i think what your expertise would know the answer to is if he would try to seek out slick deliberately and to what degree. also if the second meeting happened and it was shitty i think hed just go kill himself. like hed buy a gun so it would work this time. it is also up to your discretion how dirk thinks slick remembers him in a direct selfaware comparison to how he regards slick. maybe he would be realistic/self deprecating about it i mean it would make sense because nobody else truly values him and he probably figures that this extends to even his psych ward saviour.

So ya idk just some thoughts let me know wat you think

[whatshouldwecallchronicillness]

How does a person go about asking their doctor what kind of tests could be taken to figure out a medical issue? And how do you ask them what they tested for on a blood draw. Finally getting mystery bone/joint issues looked into but I don't know how to be assertive if I need to be

Great that you are interested in getting more involved in your care!

A doctor should absolutely be able to share their clinical reasoning in terms you can understand. In fact, anyone in healthcare should be able to explain what they are doing and why. There's things you can do to help get that info out of them.

A good place to start when embarking on self-advocacy is to have some goals. As an OT, I make my clinical and personal goals about function. Here's what my process looks like:

I had a goal to increase my sitting tolerance to unlimited during the middle of the day so I could do computer work and hobbies. Once I had this goal, I looked at what my barriers were. One was an obscenely low blood pressure. So when I went to my doctor I told him, "Here's what my sitting and standing blood pressure has been this week. It's preventing me from sitting up as much as I need to. How can we figure out why this is happening? What can we do to address this?"

( I could also add in my own opinion here if I have good rapport with the doctor. This can be tricky though, so proceed with caution. If you do add an opinion, it's great to phrase it as a question, "I've heard of a condition that causes joint pain called Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. Do you think that could explain some of my symptoms? What other types of things are you looking into?" That gives you some agency, while still respecting the doctor's expertees. It makes them happy and happy doctors are better doctors, imo. If your doctor acts dismissive, it could be because they are a jerk, or it could be because they have excellent clinical reasoning behind them not thinking the issue is *insert diagnosis here* but generally don't offer that info to patients because they have enormous pressure to make their visits quick. Either way, you can get some good information with something like, "Can you explain why you dont' think it could be x? What other things are we looking into?")

Anyway...

My Doctor ordered some tests. I happen to be pretty medically literate, so I didn't need to ask what he was ordering or why, but this would be where I would ask those questions. They may look like, "What is an MRV?" "How would an MRI of my brain tell us something about low blood pressure?" I tend not to ask questions like, "What if all these tests are normal? What are the steps after that?" because that's just borrowing trouble from tomorrow. haha Those questions can come at the follow up appointment. The reason why I might ask those questions is if I would not have continued access to the doctor for some reason (financial, distance, appointment waitlist, etc.).

At the end of each appointment, I ask to summarize things and quickly go over the next steps. This makes sure we are on the same page and I know what my responsibilities are and what others' responsibilities are moving forward. That looks like:

"Ok, so we are looking at the circulation in my brain causing the low blood pressure. You ordered an MRI with contrast at X hospital. What are my next steps? Do I call the hospital, or will they call me to schedule and figure out insurance stuff? Should I see you again after you get the results?"

In my case, some tests results were normal and some were not. At my next appointment we went over the abnormal results and I asked what they meant and got a good explanation of the processes going wonky in my body that led to my functional impairment. My doctor suggested a referral, but if he hadn't, I could have asked, "What kind of doctor treats this? Do you have any recommendations?"

I saw the specialist and had a procedure to address the issue. My blood pressure is much better and I have unlimited sitting tolerance now. Goal achieved! Yay!

This is a medical fairytale and not what I can expect every time. But it's nice and neat, so it's a good example of the process.

It would also be really rare if you could jump into full advocacy mode right away. It can be pretty scary and intimidating! I still have trouble with self advocacy with some doctors. Write your goals and questions out ahead of time and bring them with you to your appointment. If asking all of them is overwhelming, maybe have one or two highlighted and focus on those. It will get easier with practice, but slowly and over time.

You got this!

[ataraxianne]

Okay I have this kinda gwynriel headcanon which I think it's pretty cute and I wanted to share

- in acosf Cassian said both Rhys and Azriel were interested in that universal-ish-globe-thing Rhys has in his study but Azriel was the one who liked it the most

- so let's imagine he starts to develop an interest in the galaxies and universes and stars and so on

- like he starts learning things and theories about other worlds and other universes

- he even starts buying a "globe" himself, bigger than the one Rhys has, he buys books and above all a telescope

- because he especially likes stars, for some reason. Because they're bright, they shine even despite all of the darkness around them, and its kinda reassuring to him to see that something so nice and bright can still be there, especially after he himself has spent a lot of time in the dark

- because they're his court symbol. Because those three stars are like he and his brothers, and all he ever wanted was to belong

- he likes galaxies because there is an abundance of stars, of these little bright dots that come all together in groups and even tho he doesnt particularly likes being in great crowds he likes being with his friends, his family. They're his galaxy

- and then one night it's his first night with Gwyn, and they're in his house at Rose Hall, which technically became his mother's house since she had preferred a bit of solitude in all these last years and he didn't mind giving her that and staying most of the times at the House of Wind

- but tonight he didn't want to go elsewhere, it seemed right to be there even tho he had never felt quite at home in that house because of all the time he spent elsewhere and how big and empty sometimes it felt to him

- but maybe being there with a female he liked - loved - so much - with his mate even tho it still seemed too surreal to say such a thing - would have made that house more of a home

- and so there they were, in his house, in his room, in his bed, cuddling after the night, face to face and his shadows were dancing and curling around her face and she was giggling ans grinning, taunting them with her free hand while the other one was resting on his chest

- and it was all so quiet and tranquil but at the same time clear and joyful and his ears had never been filled with such a pleasant sound

- and his shadows seemed to think the same

- and they kept twirling around Gwyn until she turned a bit more her head toward them and the light of the moon coming from the window reflected on her naked body and made her already so bright real eyes shine even more and he couldn't stop staring at her mesmerized and couldn't stop his hand from reaching up her glowing cheekbones and

- "you have galaxies on your face" he said as he caressed her cheeks covered in freckles, in an abundance of them, as many as the stars in the sky

- she turned her head back to him and smiled softly and then it turned into the usual smug she put on when she was taunting him, and he couldn't help smiling back to her because gods, how much she loved her, especially when she did that

- "oh, you should see the rest of my body, Shadowsinger" she said back

- but you play this game in two so "I'm perfectly sure I've seen a lot of that too" he responded, emulating her expression

- at that she smiled again, even more than before and he didn't know how that could have been possible but it was even lighter and brighter and not even the moon and all of the stars could ever have compared to Gwyn's smiles

- smiles that were only for him and he couldn't believe that and he was so weak and abandoned the game too soon and moved to kiss that smile, softly, as it was the most precious and fragile thing in the world and could allowed anything to ruin that

- and it felt so good, so right so right so right and then she was closer to him, hugging him tightly while still kissing and it was as warm as home

- they stayed in that position, intertwined like that even after the kiss had finished, looking in each other's eyes sometimes caressing, sometimes kissing again, always with a tiny smile on their faces - even tho Azriel thought his looked more like a drunken one

- and then Gwyn asked, with that lovely smug back on her face "will you fly me to one of the real galaxies one day?"

- and something clicked in Azriel's brain

- "come with me" he said, and kinda reluctantly broke the hug he was into and started putting something on

- "wait, now? where?" Gwyn asked, curiosity and amusement spreading on her face, but started putting her undergarments back on

- Azriel didn't answer but smiled again and handed her one of his robes

-(he didn't think much about it, it was just for her to cover since it was chilly and maybe she still preferred a bit of coverage, after so many years spent in the Library - but at first it reminded Gwyn of their first meeting, tho the scene change easily and swiftly, as soon as she put it on and felt like in a warm embrace that has his scent)

- she smiled lightly and reached Azriel, who was waiting for her next to the door and together they went out

- it was darker that they thought so they mostly stumbled in the hallways and Az accidentally hit his wing against the wall gaining a harsh look from Gwyn

- "dont you dare wake up your mother now" she hissed even tho he could sense the laugh she was trying to cover (and even tho, if his mother was to wake up, the rumours they provoked in his bedroom minutes ago would have already worked- but he didn't say it to Gwyn)

- he took her hand and lead her to a staircase, and they went up on the higher floor of the house, to one of his favourite rooms there

- as soon as they entered and he lightened up the room something told him that Gwyn might have liked it too

- the room was quiet big, full of all things, along with a couch and a low table, bookshelves who took one full wall, while the other two where almost completely made up of windows, who gave a full vision of the night sky outside

- in front of the windows there were two different globes, one similar to the one Rhys had and another, bigger and more complete than that his brother had

- and then a telescope, already positioned and turned toward the side sky

- Gwyn started moving in the room, cautiously, with her white skirt and his grey robe almost floating around her legs

- she reached the bigger globe and started admiring it, following the writings and drawings on it with his finger and turning around it with her wide eyes open and her mouth in a tight line in silent awe

- and then she started talking, with a melancholic smile and told him how there were lots of astronomy books in the Library but neither globes or telescope, and it was so painful to her and her curious mind not being able to see the incredible things she was reading and how much she relied on her imagination to try seeing at least in her mind that concept of infinity those books gave her

- so Azriel got closer and extended an hand, and walked her up to the telescope and letting her see it all, the stars the galaxies, the endless universe they lived in

- and they started talking

- and it was so relieving to both of them, to talk about something they didn't even know why they were so fond of, but that someone always kept them mesmerized and craving for more knowledge

- but especially talking about it with someone who they know would listen and they weren't kept back because it was not much of an interest for others or because it was pointless to the others general studies

- they spent the night like that, and he showed her books and star maps he collected and she too about books she read and theories she had or shared

- The next morning, Azriel woke up on the couch, charts and maps and open books spread over the table, while the sunset reflected over them and the female asleep in his arms, with his shadows slowly dancing around her and galaxies on her smiling face

IF YOU READ TIL HERE, THANK YOU!! HOPE YOU LIKED IT♡♡♡ If you didn't, sorry if I wasted your time😅

[yelenasdog]

heavy is the head that wears the crown (mob!arvin russell x fem! pastor’s daughter! reader)

genre: angst+fluff

summary: arvin had always heard the saying “heavy is the head that wears the crown” but never truly understood what it meant. not until now

words: 4.06k

warnings: since this is based off of a tdatt, family death, mentions of death, mentions of mobs, kissing, marriage, murder, smoking, suicide, cancer and i think that’s it. it’s also kinda melodramatic, and i haven’t watched tdalt in a while so a lot could be plot inaccurate also idk anything abt the mob or mafia so like dont k*ll me thx i just like joe pesci

a/n: first, i owe the amazing concept of mob!arv to @kelieah ! so go follow her for more mob!arvin goodness!! basically i’m obsessed w 90s mob movies and watched goodfellas and casino and few too many times lately and oops here we r! i tried to write this from the narrator in tdatt’s view, so if u wanna read it like that then cool! btw the pic w the dress is just an idea of the dress reader is wearing not what she looks like! ok enjoy i’ll stop rambling

·。·。·。

“So, Arvin. I was told you paint houses? That true?”

Arvin hesitated, opening his mouth and closing it again. He wasn’t a painter, no, he killed people. For a price, that is.

But rather than saying no, the jab in his side from his uncle told him to answer otherwise.

“Yes, sir. It is.”

The Pastor nodded, taking a drag from his cigar, imported all the way from Cuba. He then placed what was left of the long stick in the crystal tray in front of him, the tapping of it on the reflective surface seeming almost deafening.

“Can all your family be traced down to one place, son?”

Arvin gulped, avoiding his eyes, darting his own around the heavily decorated room. Another jab to his side. He winced, meeting the older man’s eyes. He may not know much about the life he was about to enter, but he knew enough about what that meant.

“Yes, sir. They can be, minus my father and my mother. They’re gone.”

Not even a full beat of silence later, the Pastor spoke.

“How’d he die?”

Arvin was taken aback, though he knew that question was coming. His jaw clenched, as did his fist by his side. If the Pastor noticed, he didn’t speak on it, barely lifting his eyes from the document resting on his desk.

“Suicide, after the war.”

“And your mother?”

He took his lip in between his teeth, feeling the skin break, the tears well in his eyes for reasons he would excuse as the pain he was inflicting.

“Cancer. It happened when I was young, I didn’t barely even know her.”

The pastor looked up, slimming his eyes. This time he did notice the glimmering droplets, welling up in his chestnut colored eyes, threatening to fall. He appreciated the boy’s attempt to keep his emotions in check in front of his would be superior, leaning back into his chair.

“It’s alright, boy. You’re allowed to cry, it was your mother.” His southern accent was thick like molasses, his words drawing out. Arvin still felt that it wasn’t acceptable, though, so he only sniffled and directed his chin further up towards the ceiling. He stood there for a while, nerves running through his every cell. It was electric, like white lighting making its way through his veins at a painstakingly slow pace.

“Right then.”

The pastor stood, walking towards Arvin and his uncle. His expensive loafers tapped along the cold floor as he went, the sound pestering to the ears of Arvin, taunting him. He reached a soft hand out, which the boy standing opposite to him gladly took. He observed how the Pastor’s hand was without scars, calluses. Anything that would point to evidence of him being a killer, doing his own dirty work (or “the Lord’s work” as he liked to put it).

“Welcome to the family, son.”

And as Arvin smiled widely and shook his hand with an iron grip, he began to wonder what his new life would entail doing the “Lord’s work”.

He thought he had a pretty good idea, but boy, was he wrong.

“So, how’d it go?”

It was later, and Arvin was sitting with one his most favorite people, Y/n. The pair were resting in an open field, the wildflowers around her just almost competing with the beauty she held. He bashfully looked to the dirt under his shoes, noticing how only inches away, her hands picked at the damp grass.

“Went well, I think. He told me I’m ‘part of the family now’.”

She smiled at him, and in that moment with her hair so widely astray, and wearing that pale blue dress he adored so much, Arvin’s heart felt a certain emotion he hadn’t necessarily felt for someone at this multitude before. He had felt it for Lenora, his mother, his aunt and uncle. But it was different, then. Because now as he sat with her by his side, his love for her was realized at its full potential.

She began to ramble on, congratulating him on becoming a member of her father’s so called “family”, telling him how proud she was. He couldn’t keep focused on the sweet words that were falling from her lips like honey, though, as he was too caught up in his own head, his own thoughts.

“Arv?” She asked, voice laced with slight concern, but mostly with curiosity.

“Sorry, darlin’. Just thinking.”

She blushes, it’s the first time he’s called her that before. She tries to carry on conversation, though with her heart beating through that pretty dress of her’s, it was a bit difficult.

“About what?” She questioned, doing her very best not to pry too far, to be invasive in the very reserved Arvin’s mind.

Truthfully? He was promising himself that he would marry her one day, make her his wife. But telling her that he was only thinking “‘bout the future” would have to do. I mean, truthfully, he really was!

So he answered her, and she was content with said answer, abandoning the subject and returning to many praises for Arv. The standards for the “family” were high, and though she believed in him fiercely, she knew that at his core Arvin was the sweetest soul she’d ever met, and she was skeptical he could put that aside to do whatever the job would require.

“Arvin?”

He looked up, and she nearly lost her breath. It was Arvin’s sunkissed skin, tanned from working under the hot sun, the beams beating down on him. Or perhaps it was the freckles that lightly dusted his crooked nose, like a constellation from the cosmos above. Maybe even it was the mop that sat on his head, the color all the same of those sweet brown eyes of his. Whatever it was, she felt it could only mean one thing.

Y/n Y/l/n was confident she loved Arvin Russell.

“Hmm?” He asked, tilting his head like a confused canine. Adorably endearing, she thought.

And though she had much to say, she was afraid that if he were the dog in question, then the puppy had got her tongue, so to say.

“Y/n/n?” The boy said, nudging her with his elbow, making a melodious giggle erupt from her chest. “What, cat got your tongue?” Arvin teased, and she only shook her head and smiled, as he had no idea how correct he really was.

“You could say that.”

The two shared laughs over the exchange, and at some point (neither of them are quite sure when, how, or who leaned in first), their lips connected in a short and sweet kiss. It seemed that it only lasted for a moment, and as soon as they pulled apart, Arvin and Y/n both were dying for more.

But they resisted, Arvin reaching out a cautious hand to entangle with hers. She bashfully grinned, as did he (though he did his best to resist).

“Y/n, I really like you.” He had said, his thumb running small circles upon her skin. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you like me too.”  He laughed, nervous notes to the sound.

“And well, I was wondering if you’d like to be my girlfr-”

And with a light groan, Y/n had wrapped her arms around his neck, pushing both of them to the ground. She connected their lips, the kiss so oddly blunt, an attack on his lips that he had no plan of fighting off. His hands found her hair, and her’s moved to the sides of his face, holding him so tightly, as if she was afraid he would let go.

“Yes.” She pulled away panting, her lips swollen, his flushed. “Yes, I’d love to be your girlfriend, Arvin.”

They smiled as bright as the setting sun above them, and Arvin pulled her close as she buried her face in the warm crook of his neck. They stayed like that ‘till the sun went down and the stars came out of hiding, the cool summer breeze blowing around them. They both still felt it, then, the love they had only just began to realize was there. And they would continue to feel it for years to come.

Like when Arvin would get back from a job, sometimes with blood splattered on his crisp white shirts, his dirty work getting, well, dirty. She would slowly peel it from his body, taking care to make sure he wasn’t hurt. She would do her best to wash the crimson stains from the fabric, sighing if it was seeming to be of no use. Arvin would come up behind her where she was working at the sink, wrapping his strong arms around her middle and resting his head on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Arv,” she would start, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face, “damn thing won’t budge.” Arvin would just chuckle, reaching up a gentle hand, gentle only for her, to tuck the hair behind her ear, quietly speaking.

“Well I think it looks pretty good, darlin’. It’ll do just fine.” He would spin her around to face him, and pepper small kisses on her skin, smiling at her reaction. And if he was hurt, she would take care to use a warm washcloth, wiping the scarlet splatters from his creamy complexion. 

The juxtaposition of the shades was always bewildering for her, oddly beautiful in a way. She never said so, though, only muttering praises of how proud she was, how strong he is, things like that. And Arvin would watch her, honey colored eyes following her as she moved about to fix him right up. No pain would have any real effect on him, not when she was there to reassure him, make him whole again.

As Arvin moved up in their small town world, in the “family”, he remained just as kind, just as gentle. Nothing really changed, no, only the lines on his forehead deepening and the crows feet becoming darker when he smiled; And Y/n’s role, as well. She stopped cleaning him up, stopped trying to rid his shirts of bloody reminders of his living. Arvin seemed to no longer be “painting walls’, but rather making sure jobs were done, everyone was staying in their places.

And things led to another, and all of a sudden Y/n and Arvin were moving into a big house, bigger than Arvin had ever even been in before. Deals and arrangements were made, settlements too.

One regular Tuesday, Arvin came home from what Y/n could tell had been a long, long, day. He was exhausted, but had this unmistakable look of excitement and joy plastered to his face. He had come in bursting through the door, not even taking off his hat or overcoat before making his way over to Y/n and kissing her silly.

“Well hello to you, too, Arv.” She laughed, amusement and curiosity both equally swirling around in her brain, wondering what could possibly have inspired this behavior.

“Things are happening, sweetheart, good, good things.” He took her hands in his, briefly shaking them before planting a kiss to them and walking away, a big smile on his face. And truth be told, not that she would admit it, it scared the Hell outta her. She wasn’t quite sure as to why, but something was itching at her brain, warning her that whatever was brewing wasn't a good thing. But nevertheless, she maintained her grin, painted lips never faltering.

The next day, when the “good things” were supposed to be happening, Arvin was seriously wondering why on God’s green Earth he had expected this to be easy.

“Come again, son?”

Arvin swallowed, shifting on his feet. He mentally scolded himself for ending up in this position again, standing in front of the Pastor’s desk, all kinds of confused. But it had to be this way, it was for the best, he knew. The sun shone through the window above the desk in front of him, right into his eyes, nearly blinding him. The Pastor didn’t really care, though.

“I’m asking for your blessing to ask Y/n’s hand in marriage, sir.”

The older man slowly nodded in understanding, taking a long drag from the expensive cigar between his fat fingers, the gold ring on his pinky also shining brightly under the harsh sun’s light.

“I just thought that after our arrangement-”

“Arvin, I don’t regret making you an heir, I don’t.” He stated, blowing out a long stream of smoke. “Hell, I can feel something big and bad coming, boy, you understand? I know God’s will is holding out on us, on this family. But it’s running thin.”

The young man clenched his jaw, internally cringing on what that might mean to the family, for the family, what it meant for Y/n. He bit his tongue, feeling the iron seep onto his taste buds.

“And I know those damn Teagardins are plotting, they’re plotting for our downfall. Making you next in line is something they won’t see coming, and I trust it’ll stay that way. But I don’t quite understand

“Well I love your daughter, I love her so much that it hurts. And if worst comes to worst…” he stopped, his bottom lip wavering for a moment, trying to carefully dance around the different outcomes of this conversation. “I feel I’ll be better able to protect her if we’re married, if she’s truly mine.” That part might have been a lie. Y/n has never been his, never would be. She was her own person, outside Arvin, outside the family. It was what he loved about her above all else.

The Pastor was quiet for a moment contemplating his response, calculating it.

“Would you die for her?”

“Yes.” The answer came without thought, it was automatic for Arvin.

The Pastor smiled widely, lifting his arms.

“So, when’s the wedding, Arv?

Turns out, it was exactly a year, a month, and 6 days until Y/n and Arvin would tie the knot. Arvin had spent time, waiting to find the perfect moment to ask her the big question. He had decided on a night where the moon was bright and the sky was clear. They sat together in what they had donned “their” field, the greenery around them rustling in the wind. Though he was nervous, he had delivered a stunning speech that had taken poor Y/n’s heart by force. It ended up with both of them crying like babies and a shiny ring on Y/n’s finger.

The wedding itself had taken place on a beautiful summer’s day, and Y/n had worn a pretty white dress that had made Arvin almost faint when he saw her, standing there on her father’s arm. She was all decked out in the most expensive diamonds and pearls, courtesy of her father, making her shine like a crystal of sorts.

It was the best night of her life, Arv’s too. But the joy they had felt must have an inevitable end, as the worst night (Arvin’s too) was soon to follow.

It had been an ambush, the death of the Y/l/n family. The death toll had managed to wrack up every member immediate member of the esteemed mob family, including the Pastor, his wife, and their two sons. A bomb planted in the trunk of their Cadillac that had gone off, placed there by who knows. 

When Arvin had heard, his immediate reaction was to thank God that Y/n had decided to stay with him that day, to go lay in the fields just the two of them. Immediately after she had been told, she had fallen into Arvin, her entire body weight being put into his arms. Sobs wracked through her frame, her tears dampening Arvin’s yellow button up.

Once she had “come to”, Y/n had grown to be furious rather than sad. As when you look at the lineage of her family, look at the ranks of the mob and who’s to rise to power when the one in front of them dies, well Arvin was right after Y/n’s big brother, Jamie.

And Y/n had loved her big brother, she had loved him very much and would like to believe that Arvin, her sweet, sweet Arvin, would never do anything of that multitude just to satiate his hunger and appetite for power. The hunger for power she wasn’t even aware he possessed. But how in the Hell was she even supposed to be sure?

“I want to believe you, Arv, I do. But I can’t! It don’t make any damn sense, Arvin!”

“You really think that low of me, Y/n/n?”

Y/n had been shouting, trying to confront him for a crime he hadn’t committed. But Arvin was calm as he spoke, his eyes only watering and his voice only bordering on wavering. Y/n reached a trembling hand to her scalp, pulling lightly on her roots. The tears slipping down her face were hot and salty and she hated it so much.

“What else am I supposed to think?” She lifted an arm, sniffling before putting her other one on her waist, the blue of her dress, the same dress Arvin adored so much, just barely matching what was to become of her mood. She was started to regress, the red hot anger from before transforming to a stormy blue of unsure waters.

“My whole family is dead, and it just so happened that you asked me to stay with you the day they died! My whole family is dead!” She screamed, her voice a crescendo of sorts. “And everyone is clean, Arv, except you. You got the motive, you got the alibi, I’ll give you that much.” She paused, briefly wiping her nose and looking to the blank wall to the left of her father’s office. “It’s funny;” she dryly chuckled, and Arvin looked up.

“You went from doing my daddy’s dirty work to gettin’ some poor bastard to do your own. Ironic isn’t it?”  

Arvin stepped towards her, pain twisting his insides up to see his best girl afraid of him, cowering away from his touch.

“You still have me, Y/n. I’m your family.”

She looked to her feet and back to him, shaking her head.

“No, Arv. You’re not. And you will be sorry for what you did to him, to all of them. You will be.” She said, walking away with her heels clicking heavily on the wooden floors. Arvin stood still for a while, not quite sure where to go next. But it dawned on him as the stained glass shone down on his feet in the most poetic manner, that he was already there.

So he dragged his feet along with him, breaths ragged and short, his head slowly tilting up towards the glorious light. He only had to go a few feet, before he sat down in the old leather chair, the only emotions he felt being those of an imposter. He thought back to all the nervous conversations he’d had with the pastor while he was sitting in that chair, a trembling Arvin usually standing opposite, awaiting instruction.

He darted his eyes across the mahogany surface in front of him, looking at all the various things that he only could associate with Y/n’s father. His valued cigar box, the crystalline tray that rested next to it. (He swore he could still smell the fresh smoke, wafting from the little dish.) He opened it, the latch clinking before his hand reached in and his fingers clasped around one of the thick rolls of tobacco. Before he could light it, he felt overwhelmed all of a sudden, and dropped it back into the box, slamming the lid.

He laid back, resting his weary head. Arvin took a deep breath through his nose, exhaling through his mouth, before falling into a not so peaceful slumber.

He was only woken minutes later, Joseph, Y/n’s uncle, wanting to know if Arvin had seen her lately. He shook his head, muttering an annoyed “No”. Joseph got the idea relatively quickly, exiting the room. He heard the chapel’s doors close, taking that as his queue to leave once he saw the time. So he grabbed his hat and his coat, leaving the office and making his way through the dimly lit space. His attention was caught, though, by the cross by the front pews, so beautifully shining. Arvin put down his things, and walked over to the pew, sitting down on the uncomfortable hardwood. He bowed his head, putting his interlocked fingers utop the surface in front of him.

He hadn’t done this in awhile, this whole praying thing. It seemed naive in his way of life, with the things that happened around him, the people lost. But nonetheless, if ever, now was a good time to try.

“Heavenly Father, I, I, uh, I need to talk to you. To, uh, set the record straight.” His hands were sweaty, tears welling in his eyes.

“Y/n, she’s- well she’s the love of my life, God, and I don’t think she loves me anymore. Hell, she wants me dead. But I don’t blame her, I couldn’t ever. Not after...” he paused, his bottom lip shaking, “Not if she thinks I killed her family. But I didn’t, Father, I didn’t and I could never. But she don’t see that. I need her to see that.” He raised his voice, the bitter droplets rolling down his reddened cheeks, hitting his shoes.

“I can’t live without her, I won’t. So I guess I’m askin’ you a favor, Lord. Just… let her know I didn’t do it, that I would never hurt her.” His voice cracked, his words barely audible, not that whoever was listening cared.

“That I love her so much.”

Arvin muttered something of an “Amen”, and then just sat there for he wasn’t sure how long. His silence was interrupted by a mellow and raw voice, cutting through the silence like the sharpest dagger.

“It was the Teagardin family. I just found out.”

Arvin stood and turned so fast he dizzied himself, having to hold onto the back of the pew for stability. His bottom lip quivered, his flushed features gaining a confused look.

“Y/n/n? How long you been there?” He questioned, not bothering to wipe his eyes. She shifted from one foot to the other, fumbling with her hands.

“Long enough.”

There was a mutual understanding at her few words from the two of them, and an apology within them all the same. Her eyes were bloodshot, her nose runny and her overall appearance disheveled. Despite that, just the fact that she was there, to him, made her the most beautiful girl in the world. 

Arvin could tell she was holding herself back, her emotions, too, as she started to speak, barely able to get through a sentence as she rambled about how she shouldn’t have assumed things, and that it wasn’t right of her to accuse her beloved of something so dire. But none of it mattered to Arvin as he strode towards her, her words only ceasing when he finally wrapped his arms around her.

“I’m so sorry, Arv.” She sobbed, gripping onto him for dear life. That was all she said, repeating it over and over again with the exception of “I love you” also being reiterated. 

Her husband spoke over her hushed tone, saying “It’s alright, doll, I know. You were right to think that, it’s not your fault. It was never your fault.” They continued that way for some time until they both regained their bearings, Arvin wrapping an arm around her shoulders and walking down the front stairs of the chapel. 

“Let’s go home, sweet girl.” He had said, so they did. Arvin kissed the side of her head, regarding once more how he loved her, before starting the ride home, his hand on her thigh the whole time, not wanting to let her go for even a second.

His mind was plagued with thoughts of the past, and he remembered an old saying he had heard long ago. What was it? Ah, you know what they say.

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”

·。·。·。

how we feeling folks did we like? gimme feedback if u wanna! mwah love u, take care of urself

 xx hj

[sprawa-przybyszewskiej]

Ekphrasis in The Danton Case, Thermidor, and their adaptations

Ekphrasis is invoking a piece of visual media into a literary piece. It can be done for a variety of reasons, from entirely pragmatic (mostly grounding the literature in reality - if the invoked piece is a real piece of art, one you could find in a museum, for example) or more poetic (drawing some symbolic meaning between the piece of art and the idea behind the text).

In Przybyszewska's plays ekphrasis is nonexistent, at least on the foreground. I don't recall any clearly established visual, given to the readers by the original author. It's not weird in any way - how many pieces of medai do you recall which refrain from its sophisticated and additional piece of subtext and iformation? Hundreds, probably. The only other artistic thing that she has weaved into her plays is La Marseillaise, which is invoked twice in The Danton Case. There are also three book references to Othello, Orlando furioso and this one book Robespierre summarizes to Saint-Just when he's talking about hatred (but of which I have no idea if it's a real one - it probably is - or not). Other than that - nothing, plus the books count only a little, forekpfrasis should be, as I said, visual in nature.

Of course, the historical aspect of her works is what grounds them in our reality, and so cleverly, too (seeing as they're not really historical plays in any way or form, but manage to fool most anybody). And thanks to her extensive stage directions, we have no need of any additional element helping us visualize the scenes, for she does it perfectly enough on her own.

However, seein as these are plays calls for a mirror ekpfrastic effect and thus theatrical and cinematographical adapations are born. And they, on the other hand, have a potential to be filled to the brim with visual refernces. Here I would like to have a look at a few, which are taken from one of the most well known staging and the famous Wajda movie (plus some). In no particular order, there goes:

This is the very first scene of a controversial theatre adaptation of The Danton Case. Instead on portraying Robespierre as a firm leader, who only in the very end collapsed temporarily under the huge responsibility he now had to bear, the director decided to portray him as someone physically weak, not in the sense Danton meant when he called him a weakling, but in the sense of somebody who already bears so much responsibility, pain, physical ailments, doubts and whatnot. Just: everything, everythin a human could possible deal with, he deals with, and has to do so in a way that doesn't make people suspiscious about his "shortcomings". There is a interesting parallel between him and Saint-Just, whose upright and unbreakeable character is symbolised by a neck braces, something which people wear after a spine endangering accidents - and incidentally, wasn't it Saint-Just who accused Robespierre of "breaking his spine"? But not in this adaptation, oh no - here their very last scene is cut extremely short and they recite the last few sentences along with some Thermidor lines as two floating heads, a vision into the future which awaits them.

Enough about Saint-Just, though, let's focus on Robespierre and Marat. I must admit I know next to nothing about him, only what some passage here and there in this or that historical study might tell me, but I know, as does everybody, that he was known as L'ami du Peuple, which is why of the reasons, I think, why the director took this image and transposed it onto Robespierre: to make him even more likeable, to show for the umpteenth time that it is Robespierre whom we should cheer on and whom we should feel sorry for. This might also be a parallel between their both's tarnished health, their premature deaths and - last but not least - the role of an icon of the Rvolution both of them play in nowadays' audience's minds. You don't have to study history to knowwho Robespierre was, you don't have to study art to know this painting. Even if you don't agree with some more in-depth explanation of linking this person to this painting, it is a good opening image. It captures our attention in a good way.

I had mention Saint-Just and there he is, in the background of the picture, symbolically assisting Danton and his clique in their last moments. Instead of shwoign them in torn shirts, the director went into another direction altogether and enshrouded them in white sheets from heads to toes, making them all look like very stereotypical ghosts, whom they will all become in just a couple of moments.

In Polish culture, the first thing that comes to mind when talking about ghosts is Dziady, an old slavic tradition that is now replaced with the Catholic All Souls Eve. Dziady is no longer, apart from perhaps some small minorities who still practice old pagan faiths, but as a ritual, they are immortalised in a play by Adam Mickiewicz, undoubtedly the greatest Polish poet ever. Everybody know this play, some scens - by heart, and they were and are being staged pretty much constantly from one point on. Needless to say, they inspire a lot of art, and I decided to show this very fmous poster by the most famous Polish poster designer, Franciszek Starowieyski…

…who is important in this case, because he played David in Wajda's movie.

Not many people know - because his other carreer overshadowed by a lot his first one - that Wajda was a painter. Who actually hated his art, some of his pieces are in the national museum of contemporary art in Łódź alongside stars such as Władysław Strzemiński (the hero of Wajda's very last movie), which is a fact he absolutely detested. I dont know, nor do I care, why was that, because what matters is his previous education as an artist at the very least helped him not only to envision the visuals of the movie, but also acquainted him with great works of art. On which he could model this or that setup. I think it's a nice little detail he catsed Starowieyski as David, a real painter acting as another real painter, it adds a layer of reality onto the movie, and presumably makes for a more natural acting in the few scenes he was in his studio (I also think they look alike).

Speaking of David's studio, I once stumbled upon a lecture which drew parallels between some scenes in the movie and some paitings, which was mostly focused on character and costume design, and truth be told didn't contribute much to the overall watching experience of Danton. However, I must admit the lecturer had a very good eye in this one particular case, in which he pointed out that this quick shot in David's studio pretty obviously invokes the Fussli's The Artist's Despair Before The Grandeur Of Ancient Ruins. I don't think it's a coincidence (or at the very least, would be funny if it were) this shot is shown during the scene where Robespierre starts to grasp at desperate measures to save the country/save his own face in the trial. It is an artist's despair, only artist of a different kind. And it is a despair when being faced with a (possible) ruin of something great, even if its greatness is not yet formed, as opposed to the greatness passed.

The very last example I was able to think of was this photo I found of The Danton Case from 1975. It is one of those old, very classical (I presume) adaptations, which are mostly filled to the brim with riddiculosly attractive people and very often deliberately drew from other sources of artistry, like the one pictured above. No matter what the real relationship between Louise Danton and her husband was, in the play it is portrayed as something atrocious, and I cringe whenever directors try to make it something else without good reasons for doing so, so I am very glad in the past at least they stuck with classicaly depicted acts of violation against women, not because it is a violation, but because in the classical stories (like the myth of Persephone shown in the sculpture above) the woman will usually get her revenge. Just like Przybyszewska's Louison did.

Thank you for bearing with me until the end, and if you have any other examples of this come to your mind, I compel you to share them with me!

List of pieces of art in the order of their appearance:

Jacques-Louis David, The Death of Marat

Franciszek Starowieyski, Dziady

Jacques-Louis David, Self-portrait

Heinrich Fussli, The Artist's Despair Before The Grandeur Of Ancient Ruins

Gianlorenzo Bernini, The Rape Of Persephone