#Turn up the Stage

[egophiliac]

Ernesto Foulworth and Gino… it wouldn’t surprise me if they had fake identities

I accept this explanation

(the problem is that I had a very regionally-specific immediate thought and I could not get it out of my head)

(sorry this is messier than usual, I refuse to put more effort into it than it deserves)

[gunstellations]

safety first! 🏍️🏍️

[mirmalade]

did some art to commemorate burn my soul on global

[lulu-draws-stuff]

How does that sound?

[zipsunz]

a comic i did for sunny's birthday ☀️ 🎨

(art by me, script by @sunkitty143!)

[juiche]

I recently went to the Romeo and Juliet play starring Tom Holland … there was a lot of crying :') This scene struck me especially and felt like a slap across the face, so I wanted to try and capture it! 🥹

get a print

[mayasaura]

one problem with a theatrical adaption of tlt is htn, where the reveal that Gideon lives on works because of the change of second person to first.

the only way i can think of it working is that the actor playing gideon works backstage, like the lights system (but is hidden from the audience aside from subtle hints)

the biggest hint is when when wake breaches pal's river bubble she 'breaks' the lighting system and the stage goes dark. harrow is ushered into the wings by pal so she doesn't see anything, but the lights flick back on just before the curtains drop for a scene change, and pal looks directly up at the light box in surprise and smiles. if the audience is quick to turn around they can see a flash of a black robe.

Oh boy my friend, have you come to the right place!!

So, fun fact about ninja. Bear with me, I am going somewhere with this. The image of a ninja covered head to toe in black, with a hood and mask, comes from Kabuki theatre. It was originally a stagehand uniform. Like stagehands in modern theatre, stagehands in Kabuki would wear all black to signify that they were not really there, and whatever effect they were causing (carrying a prop, creating a breeze, ect.) was to be taken as happening on its own. Basic stagehand stuff, a lot of productions in many styles around the world do it, especially if they don't have fancy rigging systems.

Someone (I don't remember who now, or in what play) had the idea to dress the ninja in a production up as a stagehand. In the convention of the theatre, this made them invisible. The audience was already so used to ignoring stagehands, they didn't know any more than the characters that the ninja was present, despite the actor being clearly visible on stage. Which meant when the ninja struck, it was as if out of nowhere. I can only imagine the uproar in the theatre the first time it happened. It worked so well as to become commonplace, and the rest is history. The popular image of a ninja is still a kabuki stagehand.

So, back to the stage play of Harrow the Ninth. I think you've hit almost exactly on how to incorporate the Gideon twist into a theatrical production. But not as a lighting tech. Gideon is a stage hand. Maybe there would be more than one stagehand, maybe she would be the only one, but she would operate in full view of the audience, literally setting the scenes. I think it works best if she's the only one, but if the production needs more, she should subtly stand out in some way. As the play went on, we would notice that this one stage hand... increasingly interacts with Harrow, though Harrow never acknowledges it. At first it might look like she's playing Harrow's necromancy, because that would be the main special effect she would need to help with. When Harrow is unconscious at the end of a scene, it's always the same stagehand carrying her out. But we all know she's not really there. Until Palamedes acknowledges her. Turns to look right at her, and speaks to her. I can see the scene clearly. He would look at her, stunned, until Gideon finally took off her mask. The line "Kill us twice, shame on God," would be addressed to Gideon, and then he would turn back to Harrow, kiss her on the forehead, and tell her to go. Gideon, always out of Harrow's line of sight, would guide Harrow away while Harrow looked back at Palamedes.

[zondearts]

Tonight we got @sugar-swirlz kanamafu :D

I really love basset hound Kanade, the pitiful dog, the pupper. Needs to be held and hugged ☝️

[faunandfloraas]

© sminiverse_

[lovesickeros]

☆ de fontaine

{☆} characters furina {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings angst, suicidal thoughts, hurt / no comfort {☆} word count 1.4k

This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair!

She thought, for one moment, she could put the mask down and breathe – for one moment of daydreaming, she thought she could just be Furina. She thought she would finally get to live the live she should've had in the first place, the life she threw away to play God to an audience who saw her as nothing but a circus animal, dancing to their whims. Furina just wanted to be selfish for one brief and fleeting moment..and it was gone before she could even grasp it in her hand. A comet soaring past far out of her reach.

She can barely keep her hands from violently shaking as she looks down at them – broken and bloody and more a corpse then a person – and she feels so numb she can't even feel the rain pelting against her back. None of this is fair, she wants to scream, why is it always me? But her voice is silent beneath the torrent of rain. She wonders if the ocean would take her if she sank into it's depths – just for a moment, she wonders how it would feel to finally be able to sleep at ease.

Furina is tired.

But Furina is nothing if not useful, isn't she?

So she forces her feet to move, dragging against the stone beneath her heels, and drags their bloodied body into the nearest empty building, letting the rain do the work of washing away the smeared blood following her path. The smell makes her feel sick, the feeling of it sticking to her hands and gloves makes her lightheaded, but she persists. Because Furina is useful, because Furina won't let them die out in the rain, because Furina won't stand by and just let them rot on the streets like some..pest.

Furina wants to go home. She wants to sleep and she isn't she if she wants to wake up, this time. But she keeps going anyway.

Because it's all she's ever done, and the habit sticks.

An Archon she may not be, not anymore, but the expectations of five hundred years still linger like eyes on the inside of her skull. They watch her, pry and prod at her thoughts, mocking laughter and judging eyes following her as she forces herself to dance to the song they weave with glee. Furina never stepped off that stage – she's still there, she thinks, watching the crowd stare at her in disdain as the curtain call looms above her like a guillotine. She still hears Neuvillette deliver her damnation and salvation with a trembling voice, still feels her hair stand on end when electro crackled like the crack of the whip, Clorinde's blade aimed at her like a loaded gun.

She's trapped on that stage and she never left, not really.

She hates it. She thinks she hates them, but it's not their fault. They didn't ask for this, didn't ask for everyone to turn against them, didn't ask for her to save them. Neither did she..yet here they are, she thinks.

She tries to tell herself she's in control this time, though. She can stop performing her part in this horrible, bloody play any time she wants. It makes her feel better, just for a little while, if she convinces herself she's still Furina, painfully human.

And Furina has always been good at lying.

It's the believing that's the hard part.

There isn't time for her to wallow in her own self pity, though. They're still bleeding out onto the dusty, creaky floorboards of some random, broken down house and she's just standing there as the blood stains the wood. She can fix it – she's good at fixing things. She's done nothing but fix things – try to, anyway – for five hundred years. She can fix a little wound, how hard could it be? Her hands are clenched so tight they ache as she kneels down, wincing at the creak of the floorboards beneath her heels– she hesitates just long enough to wonder if she's making a mistake before she peels away just enough of the outer layer of their clothes to see the deep, bloody gash across their chest. She tries not to think about it – it's deep, too deep, and she feels dizzy just looking at it, but she's handled worse, right?

Furina can fix it. That's what she's good at.

She doesn't feel so confident when she tries to wrack her brain for..something. Five hundred years, and a little wound stumps her? No, she had to have learned something, right? She's decidedly not trying to buy time because she's panicking, parsing through hundreds of years of memories like flipping through a book. Furina isn't made for this, not really – she's running on nothing but adrenaline and she's really not sure what she's doing, but she's trying. And just like before, it won't be enough, will it?

She'll fall short again – she'll be too late to fix it before she's alone again.

Furina was an Archon..used to be. What use would she have for that sort of knowledge? Which makes her predicament all the more harrowing and bleak. What was she supposed to do?

Furina had heard it first hand, that vitriol in Neuvillette's voice. She isn't sure she's ever heard him that..angry before. She's not sure he would listen to her if she tried, either. And that scares her more then anything. All of Fontaine was up in arms about this..imposter, yet here she was, staring down at them bleeding out in front of her, and she was trying to save them.

Why? Why is she throwing away her only chance at normalcy for a fraud? Why didn't she just turn them in?

They were dying – that should've been a good thing, shouldn't it? So why didn't it feel like it?

"Why you?" Her voice breaks as she speaks in harsh tones, grabbing the front of their shirt in trembling, bloodied hands. "Why now?" She wants to scream, to demand answers they can't give, to claw back the reprieve she was promised after five hundred years of agony..and all she can do is sob into their chest, pleading for an answer that will not come. "Why me?"

Silence is their answer, and it hangs heavy on her trembling shoulders as she cries.

Of course they don't, she thinks bitterly, no one has ever answered her pleas spoken in hushed sobs. Not her other self and certainly not them.

Furina has always been alone. Furina will always be alone.

Because Furina never left that stage, never left that moment when she looked at herself in the mirror and took up a mantle too heavy for her to bear. She always finds her way back eventually. There's no one on the other side anymore – she stands alone on a stage, waiting for an inevitable end she isn't sure will come.

"Please," She pleads through tears and choked sobs, clinging to them like they are all that keeps her from sinking. "Please don't leave me, too." The words burn on her tongue – how pathetic is she that she craves companionship from the bloodied body of the imposter? Perhaps she's truly lost her mind after all these years..perhaps she's finally gone mad. She must have.

But their presence is like the first feeling of gentle warmth upon her skin as the sun crests the horizon, like the gentle lap of tides along her heels, the sway of branches and leaves as the wind blows through them like an instrument all it's own. They are the soothing sound of rain against the window as she watches the dreary skies in fond longing, the first bloom of spring as color blooms upon the landscape like paint had been spilled across the hills and valleys.

They are like the faint spark she carefully nurtures and stokes, so fragile even the smallest wind could blow it out like a candle. She cradles it within her palms, pleads with whoever will listen – prays that someone finally listens, because if not for her, then for them.

She's failed to protect too much already, let too many people with so much trust in her fall between the cracks of her fingers like grains of sand. She won't let them go – she can't.

If nothing else, if she couldn't be saved when she begged for salvation from that five hundred year long agony, even if she never got that chance..

Furina will make sure they do.

[kalisbaby]

The key thing of racism is the breaking of the spirit. Not the intimidation or even the violence. Not always at least. No, it's the breaking of the spirit, of someone who hates your very existence so much that knowing you're somewhere, any where, just alive infuriates them. Your sin is being born you and there's no amount of pleading, bootstrapping, assimilating, nothing that can ever change that.

[shorelinnes]

onew: shinee world VI

[doyou000me]

"I realised that the time I thought would last forever had come to an end."

[webanglikethat]

On the journey of platonic heartbreak;

The Bruise of Love / The Shadows of Loss / The ruins of Us.

now and then she rereads the manuscript of the entire torrid affair // and at last she knew what the agony had been for.

——————————————————————————

- sources beneath the cut AND in the reblog.

-> Rebecca Warfield on Medium -> lingeringpickles on tumblr // Integrative Psych -> vilebird on tumblr // chairs facing away // Crybaby: Siehl, Caitlyn // a letter to Ann Davdiow-Goodman, written 1951 by Sylvia Plath // The Unsent Project // Agust D - 어땠을까 (Dear my friend) ft. Kim Jong Wan // SpongeBob, The Fry Cook Games/transcript // Unknown // My Little Pony, The Return of Harmony Part 2 Transcript // My Love, Giclee Print // Falling, Giclee Print // Arabic quote on tumblr // My Little Pony, The Mane Attraction Transcript

Unknown on Pinterest // She-Ra and the Princesses of Power — Boys' Night Out Season 4, Episode 8 // Hoax by Taylor Swift // Tolerate it by Taylor Swift // Rafa on TikTok // Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift, Folklore // Memories Come in Waves on Pinterest -> Stephen Chbosky; The Perks of Being a Wallflower -> Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire // “Tu me manques” // Forget-Me-Not stickers from Picsart // Last Kiss by Taylor Swift // MLP Equestria Girls -> Forgotten Friendship // Transcript of Fleabag -> N on TikTok // I Lost a Friend by Finneas O'Connell // So Long, London by Taylor Swift // Ocean Vuong, On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous // Sticks Season by Noah Kahan // Photo 1 and 2 -> s4pphoiduser on tumblr // eternaldroplets on twitter // comment on Pinterest // smokeinsilence and viridianmasquerade on tumblr -> Heartworm // Naruto // Riverbank by Jeff Bates -> Sophie’s Ten Wishes -> The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived by Taylor Swift // “How can someone deal with being ghosted [….]?” -> It’s Time To Go by Taylor Swift // Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part One Transcript // Playlist from Spotify // Click Here on Pinterest // Heavy is the Heart // “I used to be close to a lot of people” -> My Little Pony, Owl's Well That Ends Well Transcript // My Little Pony, The Last Roundup Transcript

-> My Little Pony, Amending Faces Transcript // Bronze by The Regrettes // Unknown // Michael Cunningham, The Hours // Quora // Maggie Nelson, Bluets // Before the world was big by Girlpool // Whitealbum on Tumblr -> Bloomingtrans on Tumblr // Batrachia on Tumblr // Langston Hughes -> Learning To Hate You As a Self Defense Mechanism by Flatsound // I Still Forget We’re Not Even Friends by Trista Mateer // growrotten, a brief story about saying goodbye -> True Beauty // Cough It Out by The Front Bottoms // Scott Street by Phoebe Bridgers // “fantasizing about the apologies” // Now That We Don’t Talk by Taylor Swift // chloeinletters on tumblr // Lyric Hunter, Swallower // inanotheruniverse on tumblr // apple // memories come in waves -> femmefafallsdownthestairs on tumblr // True Beauty // Steven Universe // Toy Story 3 // The Hound and The Fox -> tell me where to put the anger // Hill House  (TV Mini Series) // Fourth of July by Fall Out Boy // The Haunting of Bly Manor (2020), background by webanglikethat -> You’re Losing Me by Taylor Swift // webanglikethat // Theodore Roethke, Straw for the Fire: From the Notebooks of Theodore Roethke // please don’t mistake […] // fire painting // mountain on twitter

[sleep-deprived-luka]

Gog au niigo for tonights doodle

[gossippool]

hi! logan hanahaki au theories anyone

the roots embedded in logan's lungs are the only thing his body can't force out of him, but that doesn't stop it from trying! so he has it worse from the outset because his lungs are constantly spasming and trying to force out the disease and failing

if florist!logan: logan can literally smell the flowers in his chest before he even coughs them out and he knows what they all mean. and the flowers he throws up reflect the development of his feelings towards wade so he's basically hyperaware of his entire situation and he just smells flowers all the fucking time

back to my logan has synesthesia headcanon... he starts associating everything with flowers. he sees in flowers and smells in flowers and it drives him fucking insane

if we want to get extreme with it. logan's body tries forcing out the roots in any way possible and it leads to plants growing out of his lungs and chest and up his throat. made a quick sketch for visualisation