Dorian Gray - Blog Posts
My favorite thing ever is Dorian going "Women are so emotional" In the very same chapter that he flung himself onto a sofa, collapsed onto a chair, sobbed, and believed himself to be going insane.
Doriririan Gray
Since everyone wants to see the connections between The Portrait of Dorian Gray and Izaya Orihara even though his favourite quote is from Lady Windermere I decided to keep that in mind while reading the book and my conclusions are:
Dorian Gray: Mikado Ryugamine
Basil Hallward: Masaomi Kida
Lord Henry: Izaya (BECAUSE NEITHER OF THEM EVER SHUT UP)
Going into reading The Picture of Dorian Gray I was expecting for Dorian to be this somewhat egotistical self-absorbed jerk simply based on what I absorbed via pop culture osmosis.
And then we get to chapter 2 and he’s just some pretty rich boy who seems like a decent person.
Up until Henry talks to him, I can’t help but feel like its all downhill from this point.
How Dorian Gray and Basil are NOT siblings ❤️🥀💕✨
Do I think Dorian is a piece of shit? Yes, I do
Is he still my precious baby boy who can do no wrong? Also yes
petition to go back in time and have prince hair harry play Dorian Gray in a remake of Dorian Gray
well. if Dorian gray has taught me anything, it’s that the history books completely fail to mention how 1800s Victorian era English people were kinky as fuck
wow I’m not even a full 15 pages into The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde and I already ship Dorian x Basil wholeheartedly. I haven’t shipped anyone this fast since Larry Stylinson and Wolfstar
for someone who claims to know an awful lot about greek mythology figures/relates to them, dorian gray sure does not seem to grasp the significance of hubris and its fatal consequences.
Open Family Room in Baltimore
With gray walls and a wood fireplace surround, this large transitional open concept family room photo has a medium tone wood floor.
if you read and enjoyed dr jekyll & mr hyde (or the glass scientists), frankenstein, dorian gray, etc—odds are you’ll enjoy a much lesser-known but just as good gothic novel called the private memoirs and confessions of a justified sinner.
you can look up a much better summary than i can provide, but it’s an amazing early exploration of religious extremism and the indoctrination of young people, the nature of free will, mental psychoses, and human identity. not to mention the author’s commentary on scotland’s national identity.
it utilizes the gothic doppelgänger trope and explores dual identities in a way that is completely different from jekyll & hyde or dorian gray. our irredeemable main character is a wet dying baby bird found in a mouldy cardboard box at the side of the road with delusions of grandeur and religious trauma. he makes victor frankenstein look downright self-aware in comparison. oh yeah and the devil is there too btw
i’m literally just begging someone to read it it actually changed my brain chemistry
(me gil-martining people into reading this book)
THOUGHTS ON:
,,THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY"
Yeah, that's it.
It's very gay.
And I enjoyed it.
Maybe It would even look slightly aesthetic if it wasn't taken on android
-А любовь? -Иллюзия. -А религия? -Распространенный суррогат веры. -Вы скептик. -Ничуть!Ведь скептицизм-начало веры. -Да кто же вы? -Определить-значит ограничить. -Ну дайте мне хоть нить!… -Нити обрываются.И вы рискуете заблудиться в лабиринте.
red wine drips from lips
like blood and
god knows it’ll never
be enough and
each hit burns like
it’s the first
you think you just might
die of thirst and
dorian, you’re gonna die
but pretty darling,
so am I
so you and I,
we’ll go down together
you’ll destroy yourself
and I’ll haunt you forever
nothing left to say but
beauty does not stay and
paint it fades and dries and
time it always flies
The Portrait of Innocence
The cold halls of the House of the Hearth were filled with whispers—dangerous secrets and murmurs that seemed to drift like smoke, lingering in the air long after the words had faded. It was a place of power and influence, ruled by the most cunning of the Fatui, each member carefully selected for their skill and ruthlessness. And at the center of it all was Arlecchino, the Knave.
Her reputation preceded her, a woman of cold beauty and even colder ambition. She commanded respect, fear, and devotion in equal measure. The children of the House, raised under her watchful eye, adored her as their matron, but they knew better than to cross her. Her mask of elegance and charm concealed something far more dangerous beneath, a predator lurking behind every polite smile and graceful gesture.
You had come to the House under strange circumstances—a visitor, an outsider with no ties to the Fatui. Your connection to her world was tenuous at best, and yet, you found yourself drawn into it, into her orbit. Arlecchino had taken a peculiar interest in you from the moment you met, her sharp eyes assessing, her gaze lingering on you with a calculated intensity that left you unsettled. And though you should have feared her, there was something undeniably magnetic about her presence, something that pulled you closer despite the warnings that echoed in the back of your mind.
"You are different from the others," Arlecchino had said, her voice soft yet commanding. "You don't belong here, and yet... I can see something in you. Something untouched."
Her words had left you confused and intrigued, a strange mixture of emotions that you couldn’t quite place. There was something in the way she spoke to you, something in her eyes when she looked at you, that made you feel both exposed and desired. And as the days passed, you found yourself seeking her out more and more, captivated by her presence, despite the danger that seemed to radiate from her like a warning.
It was during one of these encounters that she led you to a small, dimly lit room deep within the House. The air was thick with the scent of incense, and in the center of the room stood an ornate, gilded mirror—a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its frame adorned with intricate carvings of serpents and roses. The surface of the mirror gleamed in the candlelight, reflecting the room with eerie clarity.
Arlecchino stood beside you, her hand resting lightly on your arm as she gestured toward the mirror. "Look," she said, her voice a low whisper. "Tell me what you see."
You hesitated, glancing at her before stepping closer to the mirror. For a moment, you saw nothing out of the ordinary—just your own reflection staring back at you. But then, as you looked deeper, something shifted. Your reflection began to change, subtly at first, then more noticeably. The face that stared back at you was no longer quite your own; it was a version of yourself—perfect, flawless, untouched by time or imperfection. It was the idealized image of who you could be, who you wanted to be.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Arlecchino's voice was like silk, smooth and intoxicating. "This mirror shows you not just your reflection, but the possibility of what you could become. Untouched by the world, untainted by age or hardship. Eternal beauty... eternal youth."
Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at the reflection, unable to tear your eyes away. It was mesmerizing, this vision of yourself—a version of you that was more than just human, more than just mortal. It was perfection, in every sense of the word.
But something about it felt wrong. You could feel it, deep in your gut—a gnawing sense of unease that tugged at the edges of your mind.
"What is this?" you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.
Arlecchino’s lips curved into a smile, but it was a smile that did not reach her eyes. "It is a gift," she said softly, stepping closer to you, her presence almost overwhelming. "A chance to escape the decay of time. To become more than you are, more than anyone else. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?"
Her words were like a poison, seeping into your thoughts, twisting your desires. You had never been one for vanity, never craved the kind of beauty that others sought so desperately. And yet, standing here in front of the mirror, you couldn’t help but feel the temptation tugging at you.
"What’s the cost?" you asked, your voice barely audible, though you already knew the answer.
Arlecchino’s smile widened, her fingers brushing lightly against your skin. "The cost is nothing... and everything," she said. "You won’t age, you won’t change. But your true self—the one that lives beneath the surface—will remain hidden, locked away in the mirror. Every sin, every vice, every cruel thought will manifest there, leaving you untouched. The reflection will bear the weight of it all."
The idea was both seductive and terrifying. Eternal youth, eternal beauty, the chance to live without consequence, without fear of time’s cruel hand. But at what cost?
You looked at her, searching for some sign of deception, but all you saw was her cool, calculating gaze. She was offering you something that most people would kill for, and yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something darker at play, something far more dangerous than she was letting on.
"What happens to the reflection?" you asked, your voice tight with unease.
Arlecchino’s eyes glinted with amusement, as if she had been waiting for you to ask that question. "The reflection will take on all the burdens of your soul," she said. "Every act of cruelty, every moment of weakness, will be etched into it. But you won’t have to look at it. You can live freely, without the weight of guilt or regret."
For a long moment, you were silent, your mind racing with the implications of what she was offering. Could you really live like that? Could you accept eternal youth and beauty at the cost of your soul?
"I don’t want to lose myself," you said quietly, turning away from the mirror to face her.
Arlecchino’s smile faded, her expression turning cold and unreadable. "You wouldn’t be losing yourself," she said, her voice sharp. "You would be elevating yourself. Becoming something more."
"But what would I become?" you asked, your heart pounding in your chest.
She stepped closer to you, her hand brushing against your cheek. "You would become whatever you want to be," she whispered, her voice like a siren’s call. "Free from the chains of morality, free to live as you please, without consequence."
Her words hung in the air, thick with temptation. And for a moment, you considered it—considered what it would be like to live without fear, without pain, without the constant weight of conscience. It was a tantalizing thought, one that tugged at the darkest corners of your mind.
But deep down, you knew that it wasn’t freedom she was offering. It was enslavement—to her, to the mirror, to the reflection that would slowly consume everything you were.
"I can’t," you said, stepping back from her, your voice trembling with resolve. "I won’t."
For a moment, Arlecchino’s expression remained unchanged, her eyes cold and calculating. But then, slowly, her lips curved into a smile—a smile that sent a shiver down your spine.
"Very well," she said softly, though there was a dangerous edge to her voice. "But remember this: the world is not kind to those who reject its gifts. And beauty... beauty is the most dangerous gift of all."
With those words, she turned and walked away, leaving you alone in the room with the mirror. The reflection still lingered in the glass, watching you with eyes that were no longer your own.
And as you gazed into it, you realized that the temptation would never truly leave you. It would haunt you, just as Arlecchino would, a shadow lurking in the corners of your mind, waiting for the moment when you would finally give in.
All the "I would have also dated Dorian Gray knowing how morally bankrupted he is. Have you seen him?" posts annoyed me a little but I thought they were just jokes and didn’t think much of them...But were they really? With the amount of people on the internet arguing how "books are not political" and debating how characters like Batman would be republican I am not so sure anymore.
Sibyl's mother
No one:
Me: The Picture of Dorian Gray but James McAvoy plays all roles.
Dorian:
Basil:
Henry:
No one:
Me: The Picture of Dorian Gray but James McAvoy plays all roles.
Dorian:
Basil:
Henry:
I read so many things about the gay context and undertones in The Picture of Dorian Gray... Why were you all lying to me? It is just text plain and simple. I thought Basil was pretty upfront with his feelings for Dorian from the beginning and now I just read pages of him confessing his undying love and devotion to Dorian himself. How is that context, undertones or whatever words people are using to describe this clearly homosexual novel?
Dorian Gray after one (1) conversation with Lord Henry
Dorian Gray's the type of person who goes around calling himself a "social media influencer" after getting more than 10 likes on Instagram.
the first 10 likes were all Basil
making basil and dorian siblings in the netflix adaptation is just… offensive. the picture of dorian gray was literally used in court to incriminate oscar wilde of homosexuality
netflix how are you going to explain this
if i had a penny for every fictional hedonist called henry that is possibly probably gay for their best friend and ruined their lives/the lives of others 'for the aesthetic' i would have three pennies, which isn't much, but it's weird that it's happened thrice
"It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors."
- Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray