#why am i having a house/fellows renaissance??

[wereoz]

CANNOT remember who said ‘idk why foreman/house isn’t as popular considering the tension that foreman is becoming more & more like him but can’t stand it’ but LIKE. i’m on s1 and we get house saying “that’s why i ride u’ so already…... and then when foreman is bugging chase & cameron on what it means chase fr says ‘he’s got a crush on ya’ SO.

#okay insane. insane!! #me when house has romantic subtext w his fellows: 😳💖🥰 #also the fact in s4 he’s the only one who STAYS? #and at the end house chooses HIM to know the truth?? #why am i having a house/fellows renaissance?? #house md #house m.d #foreman #house #foreman/house #….. what the hell is their ship name? #according 2 google & realbeefman it’s #horeman #FANTASTIC #also maybe it was realbeefmans post i’m thinking abt……

[jemeryas]

The Issue with Black Celebrities and Fashion Houses

The months leading up to Usher's Super Bowl performance I was highly skeptical of what he could bring to the table. I am a '98 baby who got the opportunity to grow up through his club banger era with hit songs like 'OMG', 'Love In This Club', and 'Daddy's Home.' However, after last night's halftime show Usher has solidified himself as one of the greatest performers to come out of his generation in my humble opinion. Usher's inclusion of his Atlanta roots showing off his roller skating skills while never missing a beat, stellar breath control and surprise appearance from fellow ATL rappers Ludacris and Lil John; there was so much to witness that I never fully realized Usher was truly capable of.

It was only after the performance while preparing to write this piece that Vogue dropped an inside look of Usher's halftime show costumes. The opening ensemble—an embellished and dramatic floor length white coat that paid homage to Vegas culture—was designed by Dolce and Gabbana and I was immediately taken aback. Not by how stunning the coat was, because it was, but instead the choice of designer; and Usher wouldn't be the only one in custom Dolce because Beyonce—who surprised dropped two songs in the middle of the game—would also be photographed wearing custom D&G for promotional pics.

I was shocked to say the least at the unashamed collaboration that is continued to be done between Black celebrities and the Italian brand. The house—founded by Stefano Gabbana and Domenico Dolce—has faced a lot of criticism from the unapologetic opinions and campaigns done by the two men. For example, in 2012 the duo sent Blackamoor earrings down the runway in homage to their Sicilian culture, however these earrings would cause issues for their borderline "Blackface" appearance. The two would not apologize for it. In 2015 Dolce made a statement being against gay parenting—even though the duo is gay and were in a relationship with each other up until 2003—as well as IVF or "children of science." Which not only do gay couples use as a means to have children but women as well who have a hard time conceiving. This would lead Elton John to demand for the boycotting of the brand. However, this time around Dolce would apologize and the pair would go on to collaborate.

In 2022 The Cut would release an article that would ask the same thing that I am currently asking—"Why Couldn't Anybody Cancel Dolce & Gabbana"—but I am taking it a step further. Why, in a time such as today with hit shows like Pose that explores the terrifying realties of the queer Black and Brown ballroom scene of the 80s or Beyonce's 'Renaissance'—that is unapologetically pro-Black and pro-queer—are Black celebrities continuing to support brands that never cared about us in the first place? The reason being, given by Tahriah Hairston in a think piece for 'The Cut,' is the amount of money that is being poured into their communications and marketing team and that money being geared towards pop culture moments and celebrities.

Black celebrities in particular.

The fashion industry is notorious for partnering with Black artist and celebrities to capitalize off their cool, but very seldom will allow them to be the face of their campaigns. It is this very reason why it took 20 years for another Black model like Anok Yai to open for a powerhouse like Prada—the first being Naomi Campbell in 1997. Black celebrities are being catered to at D&G in a way that they are typically not with other fashion houses. That is why we are able to see Cardi B and Saweetie wearing custom D&G at the BET awards, or Beyonce rocking out in a tailor-made one piece for her single cover. While many may see this as a good thing and that Dolce and Gabbana are showing the love to our community, I want to remind everyone that a business does not care about social change, they care about revenue. Which is why you can have a brand like Starbucks partner with Stanley cup as a way to gain back the revenue that was lost from people protesting over the company's blatant support of a genocide.

I have scoured the internet to see if Dolce and Gabbana has ever donated to a Black cause or given opportunities to future Black college students in an effort to send them to school and make a statement to say that they care, but came up short. This is what makes the continual support of the brand from Black celebrities confusing. I am never one to force my political morals or way of being on a stylist or designer because at the end of the day there are still decisions that have to be made. The brand does make custom pieces that fit great for a storytelling moment, like Usher's halftime performance. However, at what cost do you continue to exchange your community in favor for a brand that would not look your way if you didn't have the social capital needed to make them look good? And that is where the issue between Black celebrities and fashion houses lies.

#fashion #super bowl lviii #usher #dolce & gabbana #Youtube

[handelplayssims]

Welcome back to the Sims 4! Where we are going to take on a household I sorta dread picking up. Because of one simple reason.

Don’t let their average appearances fool you. The Stuart-Waddell household is actually a vampiric family. Omar was turned by Lilith in her aspiration and he and Rozanna hit it off. So he moved in with her and I keep getting this household in the randomized rotation. All members of this household are vampires! Including the kids! Because they are vampire children! Who will enjoy their brief bit of humanity before they turn into teens. Anyway, let’s start this up, shall we?

I am making a grumpy face at this. Why you may ask? Because I’m pretty certain Harrison was close to ageing up on the next time I visited this household and I was looking forward to that. After looking at his social list and seeing a good amount of people he flirted with for his romance aspiration aged up into young adulthood plus knowing that his aspiration I’ve set for him is the fortune one, I’m deciding to go ahead and age him up at the end of this session with this household. You can have a birthday party whenever and it’s not like I have to worry about timing his age with the adults in this household!

Anyway, let’s take a look at Roxana’s whims. Wants to get a promotion, that being tied to her aspiration, Renaissance Sim, which isn’t really necessary at this point. More important is to get level 8 in 6 skills ...which she only needs to finish off one more skill for! Nice! Omar Waddell...wants to eat popcorn. You do you, vampire dude. Sure hope you have the stomach for it. Harrison...wants to embrace one of his lovers, Ramon and chat with another, Luna Villareal. Did I mention he finished the Serial Romantic aspiration? Because he completed the serial romantic aspiration as a teen. It’s a bit early to chat with fellow teens though so we’ll just keep that in mind. Selena Stuart...wants to become enemies with her father. Jesus! Did I mention that both parents have that weird hissing tic as a drawback as vampires? That works on children evidently? Well her other whim is to be alone so we can do that. Emile...simply wants to watch tv as a lazy sim. Fun! Well she’s hungry so let’s finish that whim first and foremost.

Annnd, it’s New Years Eve! Let’s see what everyone’s favorite traditions are. Omar likes decorating and wants to make a resolution as an ambitious Sim. We had decorations set up already so let’s take them down and put up something newer. Also, let’s get some home decorations as well! ...which ended up being a lot of strung up streamers. I would have also gone for a top hat like thing we didn’t have a place for it! Harrison...also likes the decoration tradition. Good for him! He also wants to party and have a countdown to midnight. ...well now! The kids just want to stay up late and Roxanna just wants to decorate. Welp, that’s all fulfilled. I am now also going to set up a house party for Harrison! It’s set for 1AM on Sunday! LATE NIGHT TEEN PARTY! WOOO! But not here, no. Let’s crash Luna Villareal’s house!

Oh hey, Omar should go and chat with his daughter- JESUS! Man, that whole thing about the weird hissing is a real and true drawback of being a vampire, isn’t it? So now I’m just having the family casually hang out for a bit. Well, most of the family. Mostly I’m waiting for the time to be decent enough for Harrison to go and call up his boyfriend. Hmm. Don’t know what and where I would like to go and do things with him. How about I get into a flirty mood first and then send a flirty text and see where it takes me?

Oh huh. Omar’s aspiration is to be a super parent, and his next stage is simply discipling a child 5 times. HEY SELENA! Shout some forbidden words, why don’t ya? Because all the other stages are fullfilled so let’s just move on, shall we? Next is...well. It’s simply helping a child with school work for four hours. And we already got three hours done already.

Annnd Roxana finished her aspiration! Renaissance Sim she is! Now, I could focus on family aspirations next, considering her family oriented trait...but now I can have her create vampires! And spread that vampirism around once more! And with her vampire traits already, she’s up to the third stage as is. Also she has 18 thousand reward points. I think it’s time to spend them. Brave, aboslutely. I wonder if Hardly Hungery will work on thirst? Likely not but I think it’s fitting. Savant works well with her finished aspiration, since it boosts skill gain! ...which would have been handy during the aspiration but eh. And let’s finish it off with the Frugal trait. Back to Omar and...it seems we can’t help Emile with homework. I suppose so. Must be the harsh relationship. Neither with Selena. OH HARRISON! Yeah I can do it with him and he has a good relationship with his dad. And there we go! There goes that stage. Now for level 10 parenting skill, going into full parent mode and having a child with three positive character value traits. Anyway, enough family time! Time to send a text to Ramon and see where he wants to hang out at! ...the bar. I don’t think teens would be allowed in there. God, where do teens hang out at? Trick question, I know the answer is that now they spend all of their time isolated at home, thanks to the lack of places for teens to actually go. But that’s in reality, how about Sims world? ...I’m actually going to google this. So Pew Research says that most teens tend to hang out at school, online, around the neighborhood and only sometimes at business establishments. Oh, and hanging at each others houses. It’s basically between neighborhoods and houses for those sorts of not-at-school hangouts. Unfortunately, is a townie so that won’t work so let’s head to the park.

...you know what I should do? Establish Harrison as bi-sexual. Because he’s firmly that. ...one moment while I toggle a cheat on because I can’t get into it directly. And there we go! Romanticly and sexually attracted to all established genders! While I do get the flirting in, he also gets surrounded by Moria Fyres and Dwight LeBlac, Garden Gnomes members. Alas. Also, we drank some blood consensually from Ramon while we were at it. He’s getting thirsty and you only get so much from people. Especially willingly. Because Harrison feels guilty and super tense if he drinks from people unwillingly. Oooh, evidently his blood is extra nice. No wonder we’re dating him. Also we kept on getting pulled over to Moria and Dwight so it’s time to be rude and tell them to buzz off. Well, rude introduction into a goodbye, at least.

Also, I teehee’d upon seeing another one of Harrison’s paramours, Nadine, walking past as we smooching Ramon. Everyone knows he’s a slut and doesn’t care! Benefits of that serial romantic reward perk dropping in! Anyway, the two casually chat and flirt until 8PM, at which point, we return home! Both Roxana and Omar are in need of a certain plasma drink and I don’t particularly feel like hunting at the moment. So we’re just going to have some plasma fruit for Roxana and Omar shall have some plasma packs. And now it’s time for the whole family to gather around the television to check out the New Year’s show. The usual tradition that clears off Countdown to Midnight. Time to chant shi-shoobe and make the countdown go! Annnd it cleared off for the parents and the kids, but not for Harrison. That’s fine! We got party time! ...and me manually turning off the tv did it. Nice. And now with casual chatter post-midnight done, we’re off to party!

Now, normally, I’d set up a goaled event for a house party. Alas, you can’t really do that at holidays. Also, when you have a house party elsewhere, it’s difficult to set things up and fullfill those goals anyway! Anyway, I decided to have Harrison sit at the bartending counter and make four drinks for all of his dates. Now, whether or not they will be drunk by them will be up to them. -shrugs- It’s how it goes. Now I’m just glancing at everyone’s party clothes to see who’s the “hottest.” Harrison is rather vain like that.

Pre-made townie fashion! ...I mean, out of these guys, I guess Ramon. But we got one more person out of the dates around hanging out, and it’s the teen of the house we’re crashing!

...yeah it would be the one with actual thought put into her fashion, wouldn’t it? I tried to have him kiss her but got rejected! Wow! Granted, I started out with Luna smooching girls when I played her household so, I suppose no surprise. Aye! A few more flirts and we get up to a flirty mood for Luna! Woo! Also Nadine did walk in on Harrison proposing messing around with Luna and got a Deeply Wounded moodlet. Huh. Anyway, hot tub messing around times! Heheheh. Oh wait! We need to ask permission for something that’s also important! I WANT TO DRINK YOUR BLOOD! It worked! Ah, and the party is over. Alas and alack, it is morning light. Time to head home, but also time for-

Neighborhood Watch! (once I figure out where the mailbox actually is on this lot)

Evergreen Harbor: The Ferhat household recently moved out.

#sims 4 #liveblogging #stuart-waddell #omar stuart #roxanna waddell #harrison waddell #emille waddell #selena waddell #vampire #and you can see why I dread this household and all vampiric households in-game #lack of sleep means even more activities can happen #and it's DRAINING

[iwannaholdyoutight-]

SUNLIGHT

Summary: Welcome to Mattina ed Estasi, an art gallery dedicated to show the art of seduction. This story is dedicated to the discover of true sex.

A/n: each day has a painting, please click on the link, likes and reblogged are love and if you come talk to me about it: I’ll love you forever. Please read end notes, it’s important

Find my masterlist HERE

Find the Pinterest page for this fic HERE

Somewhere in Italy, 1978…..

Day 1: Mattina ed Estasi https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Painting-Extasy/300907/4211239/view

Lavignia was going to have a syncope. She was sure of it. It was hot, hotter than any other summer she has ever lived in her 25 years of life upon this earth. Her pink loose dress was sticking like glue because of the heat and she was late for her first day at the new job.

Fucking amazing, right?

The bus was late and then she got lost because she should have turned right but she took a left and her Italian isn’t amazing enough to understand what the old lady was trying to explain her, she was speaking too fast and Lav was far too nervous to concentrate. 

But finally she saw the brick walls built in an elegant way. She saw the big stained glass with the mermaid. She had finally found Mattina ed Estasi, or “morning and ecstasy” in English. This is going to be her new job - new home- for at least the next 18 months (that was what the contract said, at least). 

Having graduated just a year ago from the University of Coimbrã with a major in arts and communication, Lavignia found herself without a job and without the possibility of asking for her folks to help since they didn’t want her to go to college at all (she had one job and that was to marry well…. and that’s clearly not what she did). 

But a friend of a friend told her one night about this gallery in Italy that needed someone to work there. This person had to speak English, to communicate with all of the tourist and had to know a lot about art. 

Thank god she knew both. 

Packing her bags, she dished her job at the bar and went to Italy on the morning train all the way from France. With all of her articles about art and the hope of a brand new start. 

Taking a deep breath she walked through the doors, coming face to face with a tall red head: “you must be Vanessa! Mrs. Lovelace told me you would be here. 

She was nervous, feeling short when standing side by side with this gorgeous woman. Her hair all messy from the wind and heat. But Vanessa, with a freckled face and very blue eyes, opened a smile and refused her hand shake, going for a hug. 

“Hello, Lavignia. Yes, Mrs. Lovelace has told me all about you, she seemed excited, she loved your article about the art movements as protest  against the military coups in Latin-America.” 

“I’m glad. And please, call me Lav” 

“Of course. Ready to begin our training?”

They started to walk around the gallery. An intimate space with golden artificial lights, a crew of men was working with all of the artwork for the new exposition: “Love and Sex”. 

“What do you know about our new work? I just need to know everything you were told so I can help you with the rest” 

“Well, I received a lot of books to study the theme on the last few days. Love and Sex is all about the the raw emotions of the human body, showing how much they are alike but also not so different. One complements the other but at the same time you can have sex without feeling in  love, and you can fall in love and not have sex.” She could feel the embarrassment from talking so much about this subject with someone she barely knows but since it was about art becomes more acceptable. 

“Yes. You are very correct. We are getting pieces from the renaissance era till the new paining by erotic artist Joan Semmel, our biggest conquest of this is actually her painting “Sunlight”, but Harry still has to bring that one”

“Nice. But who is Harry?” 

“Oh, didn’t Mrs. Lovelace told you about the owners of the shop?” 

Lavignia shook her head in a negative but said “only that she was one of them.”

“We have three owners. The first one is Jeannie Lovelace”  the one who interviewed Lavignia just 5 days before. She was around her late sixties, beautiful long silver hair and blue eyes. Very elegant lady always using nice bell pants and white shirts. “Well, first, never call her Mrs. Lovelace to her face, she doesn’t like being treated like she is elite, even if she is. Some people say that on her younger days she had an affair with Duke Elligton, can you imagine?” 

They laughed together, this beautiful old lady must have so much to tell if given the opportunity . 

“Anyway, she was the founding mother of this beautiful gallery. She never got married so her true love is art. She founded this gallery back in 1961 with the money she inherited from her father company back in the U.S”. 

“Nice. There is two others right?” She said while pointing to a board with the story of the gallery “This Harry you just told me about and Jesse right?” 

“Yes. Let me start with the worse: Jesse Fire. Firstly, I’m pretty sure that’s not his real name. He’s this elite lawyer and a jackass with everyone he doesn’t find worthy of his time. He only puts money on this gallery because it’s a good investment and makes him have a “intelectual image” for the tabloids. Don’t worry too much about him but if he ever appears just try to not talk to him, and you’ll be fine. He is on holiday and won’t return for another three months. And he lives in Rome, so even when he’s in the country he comes here only for big openings and our parties. We are all safe.” 

She opened a huge smile 

“Now, let’s talk about the last one: Harry. Do you happen to know H.E Styles?” 

“You mean the erotic poet and composer? The one people are always talking about his sexual escapades and charming ways” 

“That one. Well… that’s Harry. I mean, we all know Harry made his money with art and he likes to spend his money with more art. Shocking, right? He has the biggest collection of sensual masterpieces. From paintings to sculptures and even vintage sex toys: he has it all. Actually this exhibition was his idea. The main pieces will have a poem by him attached to it.” 

“And how many pieces are we hoping for?”

“Around 10. He’s going to write new poems for the main events, inspired by a few of the art pieces and will release a book at the end of everything. And that’s the reason why we still don’t have the painting by Semmel. He is struggling with that one and took home last Friday and promised to bring here today. 

“And it’s not here today” said a raspy slow voice from the back door. He was using a blue chiffon shirt almost completely  unbuttoned with a pair of high waisted white jeans and a glittery boot, with heels that gave him at least 3 inches more. “I am so glad to see my favorite red hair today. It was a tuff weekend” 

He got closer and she could finally see his face: green eyes, beautiful wavy brown hair and a nice crooked smile with dimples just to make it more adorable. And he had a mustache. Lav absolutely hates mustaches, but if it’s this handsome fellow that has one…. she wouldn’t complain. 

“What happened? Couldn’t find inspiration again?” Vanessa said while touching his arm. Of course a guy that hot would go for a girl like Nessa. They looked like a power couple together. 

“First I thought I could get inspiration if I could just stare at the painting. But it didn’t work so I called Daniel and Melissa, maybe with a fun three way party I could feel inspired, wrong. Then yesterday, I thought “maybe I need to see the world with different eyes” so I popped a few acid tablets… didn’t work. So now I’m here, on a Monday morning, asking you PLEASE let me have the painting for a few more days” 

It was too much information for Lav to take, in three days he had done more than she has done her whole life. That made her feel quite uneasy. 

“That depends, Styles… will you borrow your beach house for the summer so I can have my honeymoon with Cathy there?” 

Oh, she has a fiancée, thought Lavignia, how silly could she be, thinking they were a couple. 

“I was already going to offer you this and you know it. But of course, my Calihouse is yours for the time you want it for your honeymoon” he finally locked eyes with the brunette who was feeling like an outsider listening to private conversation: “and who is this Dove? Is she the new curator you and Lovelace were talking about?” 

“Yes, Lavignia this is Harry. Harry this is Lavignia” 

 She gave him an awkward smile. 

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Styles”

She raised her hand to shook his that was already reaching out for her. But, instead of a shake, he took her hand and before giving a kiss he whispered to her hand “please, call me Harry.” He kissed her hand and let her hand go, using the tips of his fingers to caress her arm on the way down from its previous position. 

“She is actually going to create the sequence for the pieces and the artistic and historical explanation of the pieces from the the exhibition”. 

“I thought I was going to write this” 

“Yeah but she has the technical knowledge. So you are going to look at the art, find a meaning behind and she is going to write the explanation for the techniques and whatsoever and to the presentationwould be interesting if you guys worked together” 

That’s when it hit Lavignia: they had 6 days till the opening and absolutely zero idea of what they were going to produce. 

“Wait….. we have six days to plan this whole thing?”  

Harry laughed. 

“Yes, we have done a lot but still, we have a lot do. Right now the focus is to create a storyline to exhibit everything and it has to go well with the main theme. Welcome to our gallery” he said with a smile. “But I’m sure it’s going to be an easy job. Because love and sex are so inherent to the human being” 

That wasn’t going to be an easy job. She didn’t know much about love or sex. 

.

After their conversation, the day was just a blurry memory: checking the pieces, looking for articles and references about each one. Harry would once in a while come and check on Lav, ask her if she wanted anything and sometimes he would just look at her, like he was trying to memorize her face. 

It was already 7 pm and Lav and Nessa were getting their stuff to leave when Harry came up to talk to them: 

“Girls, Lovelace just called the office and asked if we want to have dinner at her place. I’m going, care to join?” 

“I can’t, have to meet Cathy. We have a dinner date to try and finally find a date that is good to get married” said Nessa “but I think it would be good for Lav so she can get a feel about how we work” 

“I can give you a ride if you want” Harry offered with a sweet smile, putting both of his hands on the reception table and getting closer to her face. 

“Uh, sure. Let me just get the rest of my stuff” 

“Sure, I’m waiting outside” 

Vanessa was looking down at her with cheeky eyes and knowing smile: “you are going to have the best fuck of your life” Lav eyes grew wide “oh me and my fiancée once had a threesome with Harry. A one time thing but didn’t he gave us the ride of our lives” 

“There will be no fu… mingling with the boss for me. Thank you very much” Lavignia said while getting the rest of her stuff and walking away with heavy steps and wide angry eyes. She was already out of the door but she could still listen to Vanessa’s laughter. 

She started looking for a nice and extravagant car but what she found was Harry leaning on a very red Harley Davidson. Picking at his nails, tearing off the nail polish in the process. 

“Hey. Ready?” She was shaking she had never walked on a motorcycle. 

“Kinda. Never been on a motorcycle before” 

“What a pleasure to be the your first ride then” Harry said giving her a blinking eye and a mischievous smile. “First let’s  put this thing on you” he got closer to her with a blue helmet with silver stars in hand. 

First he caressed her messy curls and then slided the helmet on her head, never taking his green eyes off of her: “you look perfect with this on, like you belonged on a fast ride, just like this ride I’m going to give you” 

She didn’t know how to answer that, she could just blush. 

“Let’s go?”  Nodding with her hand and getting onto the bike with Harry, Lavignia had this nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach: it burned. Every single time he turned a left she would end up brushing her front against his back that was covered by the thin blue shirt. She never felt this spark before, almost like something in her body was screaming for the feel of him. Maybe was the fact they spent the day in the middle of sensual pieces of arts, maybe was the fact that the smell of vanilla on his neck made her think of sex.

And she never thought of sex, never understanding what was the appeal to showcase something it was supposed to be so intimate, and he didn’t have any filter when it comes to it. Maybe the almost 4 years without someone between her legs have finally got her and she was going crazy.

After it felt like an eternity in a war with her own thoughts, they came to a stop on a small circle park with 5 houses surrounding the area . All of them were big and out of a art decor movie. They came to a stop in front of one of the houses: this one was yellow with high walls and a lot of plants all over the entrance. 

“This is Jeannie Lovelace house. My house is the other one on the other side of the park” Harry finally said, without taking his helmet off, pointing towards a house with a bright orange tone to it with rounded windows and a balcony that was exposed for the street, full red roses. “She is already expecting us, you can go inside, I’m just gonna drop my bike at my house. Do you live close?”

“No, I live close to the beach, close to that souvenir shop, you know? It’s about 30 bus stops from the gallery.”

“You can stay at my place, if you want” he said in a normal tone but a sparkle was found inside his eyes, maybe she wasn’t the only one that was left shook from their little trip standing so close together.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea” she could admire him, but she couldn't touch. She only knew him for a few hours but she knew it was trouble. And maybe her tone was quite condescending because Harry changed his posture and stopped smiling and just pronounced a small and guilty “okay” before driving towards his house, acting almost like he was feeling shameful. Before Knocking on the door there was only one thing in her mind: this was going to be an extressfull dinner. 

.

Day 2: Woman with the black stockings 

(Painting they talk about: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/ac/Schiele_-_Frau_mit_schwarzen_Strümpfen_-_1913.jpg )

“Darling, wake up” she could feel Jeannie elegant voice talking quietly “it’s almost 9, if you want to be on time to your meeting with Harry, you have to wake up now”

Meeting? When did she and Harry settled a meeting hour? Lav’s last memory was from getting another glass of the green drink because she was quite overwhelmed with the conversation topics. She didn’t even knew there was so much it could be talked about sex.

“Sorry” she said getting up “my head is killing me. Thank you for letting me crash here, I don’t even remember how I made it to this bed” she looked around, being in a big room with with walls and drawing of flowers all over it, Lovelace was standing right next to her holding a plate full of food. 

“Oh, darling there is nothing to be sorry for. You should thank Harry, he was the one who carried you over here” she said while settling the plate on her lap “but a little piece of advice? When it comes to absint you don’t drink more than 3 shots, now eat. Do you remember what we talked about last night?”

Oh God, she didn’t want to hear all of that AGAIN but she had to be honest: “after my third glass my mind is just a blackout. I’m so embarrassed”she said while getting the beautiful croissant and taking a bite of it and it was so good “You only know me for two days, you are my BOSS and I made a complete fool of myself”

“Again: nothing to be sorry for, everybody in the gallery is like family to me. Not counting Jesse, he is just someone that gives us money…. think of him like the awful uncle that everybody has to deal with” laughing at her own joke  “We just talked about the opening then me and Harry stared to exchange stories… that was when you started to drink a little too much.”

“I just… I hope this doesn’t get me fired but, you all just treat sex like it isn’t an act it should be kept in your bed and I got nervous yesterday with the topics of the conversation once we stopped talking business and especially Harry I mean…. I met him when he was talking about a menage he had in search for inspiration to write about an art piece” She said with open eyes and exasperated sigh

“Lavignia, sweetie, you know that this gallery is about sex right? We showcase pieces with a sensual and sexual background. Also we hold parties, books reading, music. Look at the name we gave it: MORNING AND EXTASE”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry Mrs. Lovelace, when we talked you only told me about this exposee we are doing and I thought that was it. I know that sensuality and art are two themes that often come together but ….”

“There is no problem, Lavignia” she said in a more serious tone, yeah, Lav was out of a job only on her second day, she was sure of it. “Look, I was so ecstatic to have someone with your resume that I only talked about what we are working on right now. Can I ask you something? Give us a chance, please? Especially Harry, he is a sweet guy who lives and feels everything, he gives himself whole in everything: art, friendship, love, sex. I wish I could have met someone like him when I was younger, I would be married, maybe.” She said with a sweet smile “When we are over with the planning of this, if you wish, you can let us go. But try and immerse yourself with us, there is more to the world than ‘waking up, growing old and dying’. If at the end of this you don’t wanna stay, I will find you a job at the most traditional art gallery. But, give us a chance, there is something behind your eyes that longs for something, I can see it, let us show you there is no shame in living.”

Looking at her hands, Laviginia thought about how she was never satisfied, leaving her parents home when they wanted her to get married to their neighbor, going to college in another country, then going to Paris to find a job and failing and now having this big opportunity in her hands: she couldn’t say no; so she nodded and got a big hug from the elegant old lady.

“Now, I asked Harry to get you a few clothes ‘cause I figured you wouldn’t want to be another entire day with the same ones.  He is already here with the clothes I’m going to get it for you. Take a shower. We’ll be waiting for you in the living room” Jeannie said getting up from her sitting down position in bed but before she could reached the door she turned to Lav and said “and another thing: don’t ever call me Mrs again, either Jeannie or Lovelace. Okay?” and with that she left the room and Lav went to shower, knowing she had a chance in her hands and the only person who could mess this chance up. 

.

After taking her shower Lavignia came back to the room to find not only clothes but shoes and underwear and even a perfume, on top there was a note: 

Lovelace would not forgive me if I got you clothes and didn’t bought you a perfume. According to her a woman is naked without a scent. I hope I got the sizing right. 

H.

PS: I would love to see you wearing the lingerie, this one was all Jeannie. 

Of course he would said something like that. The clothes consisted of a black mini dress with red little hearts and a high turtleneck, together with black boots and a thigh high black stockings. The lingerie was pretty, a set with a bright cherry color made of  lace and satin. She loved looking at the mirror using such a beautiful piece, there was something about her she didn’t knew it could be achievable: she looked quite sensual. She felt like she was Twiggy herself (even if she didn’t look at all like Twiggy).

Last but not least: the perfume. It was Paris by YSL and it smelled like richness and sex. Of course he wouldn’t give any less than something like this. But she couldn’t lie, she was grateful for him, Lav knew she was quite harsh to him just the night before with her judgmental looks and words, but even then he got out of this way to help someone he only knew for 24 hours. 

Getting down the stairs she could ear the light tone of their conversation, something about “opening yourself for love”, it seems like Lav was not the only one that was getting a preach from the one and only Jeannie Lovelace. 

With the sound of her footsteps getting closer, Harry turned around and smiled: “glad I got the sizing right. You look nice.” He was getting up and so was Jeannie

“I’m going to give you guys a ride and then I’m picking Nessa up, we are going to the train station”

“I thought we all were working together today” Harry said while walking side by side with both women toward the backdoor that lead to the garage. Jeannie gave them both a big smile:

“Early this morning I got the news: We got the Corregio” in that moment Harry lifted Jeannie up and started to kiss her cheeks while saying “I knew you could do it”.

Antonio da Corregio was an painter from the italian renaissance, being able to get one of his pieces to put on display outside from its home museum in Viena was almost impossible . Lav was looking at the interaction and saw it for the first time: Lovelace saw Harry like a son. They were a little happy family. What she didn’t expect was Harry to put Jeannie down and take her into his arms, giving a big hug and involving her in his smell all over again. 

“Now, let’s go kids. You two have to analyse the Schiele piece and me and Vanessa have a date with Corregio”. And so they left in a very lilac mercedes. 

.

Laviginia couldn’t stop sweating, she was standing side by side with Harry in front of a big painting of a woman sitting down, pushing her skirt up so she could show all of her private parts. With very red lips and nipples and black stockings, very similar to the ones Harry got her, and from his face, she was sure it was not a mere coincidence.

“What do you think we should do with this one?” Harry asked

“I think every piece of art tells a story and we have to discuss about this piece, what story does it tells us” Lav said getting away from the painting and closer to the books she had spread all over the table, looking for her bookmarks about Egon Shiele  and any piece of information about his painting The woman with black stockings.  She looked over at Harry and he looked relaxed with his with long sleeve shirt full of drawings on the sleeves and blue jeans. He was calm while waiting for her to tell him about whatever piece of information she found on the books. Her mind was going crazy, she was sweating through all of her pores, there was the same unfamiliar warmth in the pit of her stomach and there was Harry, changing his attention between her and the naked woman like they were talking about the weather. Finally she found the information she was looking for in one of the many bookmarks she made “This dates back to 1913, he got arrested countless time because of his art…”

“It’s ridiculous being arrested for making his art, especially one so intimate but I understand the time but so be it, I hate it when people make sex such a taboo. But please, continue with what you were telling me”

Cleaning her throat, she continued “according to this the reason behinds his arrests were his nude and semi-nude portrayals of his lovers. It also says those portrayls are so beguiling is quite simple: they have a filth quality to it. He likes to portrait his adoration towards woman and sex”

“Wow, that’s probably the most of dirty talk you have ever made in your life, I’m proud you got to reading all of this only blushing a bit” he looked at her with kind eyes and a smirk gracing his beautiful rosé lips “Okay, he wants to show devotion and rawness to it, right? There is this gorgeous woman spread open for him, longing for him as I hope he was longing to get between her legs and get so deep they don’t know when one ends and the other begins. I think that the theme of this is want, is the disinhibition, not being ashamed of wanting something that is so good” Lav felt like he was talking about her and not the painting “He has a dirty mind freakness, doesn’t only show people what he is seeing, he shows us his desire and let us get into his intimate for one reason: he painted his lovers, people he knew from inside out, people who must have some meaning to him. The fact that he can put together adoration and the most primal act of the human race, takes his art from merely beautiful to widely erotic”

“What does it feel like?” she asked him “being able to see and feel and talk about this without feeling like it’s wrong? Being able to let yourself go”

Harry looked at her and she had no idea what his face was telling her. He was sitting on the floor and pated the place in front of him in a silence request for her to join him. She sat in front of him, folding her legs and looking him in the eye

“I always felt like there was more to life than the one I was leading on, you know? My family came from money, but everything just felt the same, so one day, as soon as I turned 18, I went to Los Angeles, that was 10 years ago, ending of the 60s and beginning of the 70s, David Bowie was still becoming what he is now, Beatles had just broken up Fleetwood Mac didn’t have Stevie Nicks. There I met people who showed me more and more of living and then I started writing, becoming myself. It was with my art that made my own money and got kind of famous but I never actually showed my face to magazines till  I came to Italy when I heard that the gallery wasn’t doing very well, offered to help and I gained a second mother in Lovelace, she was there for me all the time and she was the first one to tell me that I didn’t have to be ashamed of who I was, if I like a bit of everything or if I dress quite flamboyant or anything.” Harry smiled “ That’s what she wants for everybody: have a fulfilling life like hers, without any fears. It’s all a learning you know, one day at the time, you get there.” Harry took her hand and gave it a kiss “tomorrow we’ll all be together to look at the Corregio, you can talk about whatever you are feeling, I promise you: no one is going to judge you.”

“You know it would be nice to just be able to talk about this without feeling like I’m going to hell and I don’t even believe there is a hell.”

“If hell is full of people who don’t care about labels and know how to have fun… I don’t wanna go to heaven “ Harry smiled “but you know, I’m a GREAT teacher, I would love to teach you how to be less awkward when it comes to the theme, after all you are working for a gallery about sex”

“I’m not having sex with you”

“God, Lav, don’t be such a pervert, I was talking about being less shy when it comes to talking about it. Come on repeat with me ‘fuck me’ without blushing”

“Fuck me”

“No, fuck me” 

“Fuck me” 

“No”

“Fuck me”

“Finally! That’s my girl.” Harry said giving a peck to her nose. “Now, how about we go eat a nice gelato, my treat. Then we can come back to talk about the painting”

.

Day 3: Jupiter and Aphrodite

https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/fb/Correggio_028c.jpg

https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/fb/Correggio_028c.jpg

“I crave your mouth, you voice, your hair/ Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets/ Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day/ I hunt for the the liquid measure of your steps” the words from the poem left Harry’s mouth like honey. When they both arrived early to the gallery, Harry sat on the floor with a poetry book and asked if she wanted him to read for him. “I hunger for you sleek laugh/ your hands the color of savage harvest/ hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails/ I want to eat your skin like a whole almond”

When Harry said that sentence he stopped briefly and looked at Lavignia, wanting to see her reaction. He didn’t choose that poem with no intend, he wanted her to see how sexuality and love could be show on poem, with such a easy passion, no shame. She was looking right at the pearls he was wearing around his neck, thinking he didn’t noticed the way she was staring at his chest and necklace, he licked his lips and continued: “I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body/ the sovereign of your arrogant face/ I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes.

The more Harry read, the more Lavignia was imagining he was doing all the the things quoted, adoring her body with such hunger, she was thanking God that he was close to finish his reading: “And I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight/ Haunting for you, for your hot heart/ Like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue” He closed the book and looked at her:” so, that was the Love Sonnet XI by Pablo Neruda, what do you think of it?”

“It’s beautiful”

“Only beautiful? What do you feel when you listen to those words. Erotism can also come in form of beautiful words, to show those feelings and to have them returned are a bliss, if is a one night or a lifetime.”

She wanted to be like him, like everybody she met during those 3 days, so she trying to raise her voice and finally say something:

“I feel hunger. Hunger for life. I don’t want to feel like it’s wrong to desire someone”

Harry got closer to her, almost touching their knees together. The moment he walked through the door last monday he was captivated by the girl wearing the cherry tree print dress. He couldn't stop watching her every movement, how she would stare at each art piece with a passion observation yet timid eyes, how she would like at him like he was from mars, she had so much inside of her screaming to break out of the coffins of her mind and heart, and Lovelace made him promise he would help her, she saw so much of her in Lavignia. 

“Would you like to try and  live the life you always longed for?” he asked her.”You will never be judged here, that is a promise I make you, in the name of everybody”

She was hypnotized by his eyes and the thought of finally exploring whatever she felt since she was younger and everybody always told her how wrong it was: this hunger. Ever since she read the Betty Friedan book “The feminine mystique” and was shocked to find out that women also could find pleasure in sex just like men. Never having the courage but each day inside the gallery she could feel the same insistent pit in her stomach always asking for more” So she just nodded and Harry got even closer, so close she could see the blue and golden inside his eyes and could hear his breathing and smell the mint in his breath.

This guy that just this weekend was having threesomes was going to kiss her shamelessly inside  their workplace. And she was going to let him. 

“Good Morning darlings” said the elegant voice of Jeannie coming from the front door “I’m a little bit late but I got fresh macarons from the french bakery close to Nessa’s place. She is just parking the … oh” Finally looking at the young couple on the floor so close that it was unmistakable that they were about to kiss when the owner of the gallery busted through the door “well…. young passion, always a good feeling when you just can’t wait till you can get home and enjoy each other but please do whatever you were going to do away from the art pieces, we wouldn’t want another incident like the party we threw back in 75”

Harry gave Jeannie a cheeky smile while the only thing Lavignia could feel was shame, absolut and complete shame. Opening her mouth to defend the situation she found herself in: 

“But we weren’t going to…”

“Lavignia you know I’m the biggest and most precious work of art from our little gallery” Harry said at the same time she was trying to come up with any excuse, looking at her while getting up and offering his hand.

“Oh Harry if I was 30 years younger you wouldn’t scape me” Jeannie answered. Today she was using a elegant bright red dress and a scarf around her head and by the smile on her face, Lav understood what they were trying to do: they wanted her to feel comfortable so they were joking to show her there was no problem in whatever they were doing.

“Now, enough talking we have two pieces to figure it out today and Harry where the fuck is the Semmel?” Lovelace said taking her heels off and started to walk around, checking everything they had already done. There was still 3 pieces for them to figure out how they would showcase. 

.

They were all sitting on the bench Harry dragged to the middle of the room, with watchful eyes resting on Lavignia that was right in the middle of two art pieces. They all were waiting for her to begin her explanation: 

“So, if you look at my right, we have the famous Correggio painting: Jupiter and Io, dated back 1530. So, we all know the Romans saw Jupiter as the equivalent of the Greek god Zeus. According to the tale, he was attracted to everything that was beautiful, especially Io, she was one of Hera’s priestess. Jupiter was always tempted by others beauty and would disguise himself to be closer to them. In the case of the Correggio” she said posting towards the bluish god that was encasing the woman in a sensual way “he took the form of a velvet fog to reach for Io” pointing through naked woman encased by the fog, she took a break, waiting to see if they wanted to add something but Jeannie just gave her a small smile, telling her to continue: “it’s from the Italian renaissance, as we all know and the technique is oil on canvas, it’s height is around 5’4 and is has been in the Austria museum since the XVI century” 

Harry raised his hand not wanting to disrupt her talking, he was quite fond of the way she lost all of her shyness and insecurities when it comes to art. When she was done she looked at Harry when he raised from his sitting position to get closer to the painting: 

“If we look next to her face, we can see a face form itself on the fog, that’s Jupiter, right? He is there taking her pleasure as his own and giving his pleasure to her as her own. It’s a mutual feeling, she isn’t dreaming about the fog, he is there. This is such an erotic turn, showing us this woman being involved with this fog, her face looks like she was being pleasured. It’s about the feeling of letting go, she was letting herself being encased by this fog, encased by desire” turning his face to the redhead sitting close to Lovelace he asked “what do you think, Nessa?” 

Crossing her long legs that were covered by a letter flared jumpsuit she stayed quiet, taking the pairing calmly. 

“I think I wanna hear about the Aphrodite before making a decision” 

Harry pinched Lavignia cheeks lightly as if saying: come on, we are waiting. 

Lavignia was looking at the piece. The three naked woman with no shame, laying together on top of the blue satin sheets: one was laying down with her hands above her head, the other was on her fours atop of the laying girl and the third was encasing the the same girl that has her eyes closed in delight. It was clear that she was the one they were intending to adore, she was Aphrodite. 

“Aphrodite is one of the famous goodness, she is the goodness of love and beauty, she was responsible for the perpetuation of life, pleasure and joy…” Lav lost her train of thoughts the moment she looked at Harry. 

He looked calm, standing so next to her, listening so attentive, as if every word that came from her mouth was precious to the subject. His eyes were extremely green thanks to the green and blue crochet vest he was wearing together with a high waisted jeans but everytime he raised his arms she could see a bit of his soft belly and what it seemed to be a butterfly tattoo. 

“Earth to Lavignia?” said the fant voice of Jeannie. Shaking her head a muttering a small ‘sorry’, she continued:

“Anyway, this illustration on paper was made for the Pierre Louys’s book, the artist is Maurice Ray, we don’t know the date but it’s from the 19th century, so it’s nearly not as old as the Correggio, so if we want to sort by date: we can’t. They are too far apart. We have to find the common ground beside both being created after myth. But we don’t have much on the creator of the illustration to help us built the story. It could be helpful��� 

“You know” Harry started “it’s good when people don’t know the life of an artist. I mean, I don’t want people to read my poetry and think what inspired me. Like my “cherry” poem, and think “it’s about his last girlfriend who left his heart broken’, I want people to look at my art and take it as their own. The moment I give it to the world, it’s not mine anymore. Each person has their own claim for the piece, their own meaning, their own story. I look at those pieces and I don’t wanna know if the woman in Correggio was the one that got away, I wanna look and see what this makes me feel, how this tells me a story” 

Harry had a girlfriend who broke his heart? Does he always write from his own perspective? Where can she find one of his poems? She wants to know more about the boy who seemed to never look anything but a full rainbow with his colours and happiness. 

“So, we only have now to work with Sunlight to finish the preparations for the grant opening. Nessa is everything okay with the catering?” 

“Yes, I spoke to the cantina owner, you know, Angelo. He invited us to have dinner there today, so we can try everything he wants to bring” then opening her purse and getting a red notebook “I think we have everything covered: food, drinks, journalist to come, photographers, invitations has been send. I  think the only thing lacking is the Sunlight… Harry, where the fuck is the Sunlight?”

His eyes opened and he looked a little bit frightened at Vanessa: “shit, Nessa, don’t pull those eyes on me, I always get scared. I promise: it will be here, okay?” nervously he looked at both Jeannie and Vanessa, and then at Lavignia, in a suplic for a little help. 

“What time should we be at the cantina?” she changed the subject

“In a few hours, it’s only 2 pm now, maybe at 6, the music is going to start at 6 but we know nothing actually works on time here”

“Okay, so maybe let’s just revise everything? And maybe finally find the order we want to exhibit everything? Lav, do you have any idea?”

“I can only think the cliche: year and technique” 

“We have been here for the last four hours searching, reading, talking about those paintings. Can we do it tomorrow” Asked Nessa, raising her arms to stretch.

“Sure, how about you two go and write all that has been discussed today while me and Harry talk business in the office upstairs?” Lovelace said, taking Harry by the hand and leading him to the stairs that stood almost in a hidden part of the gallery.

When they were long gone, Vanessa questioned if she knew that they weren’t going talk business and when she didn’t respond, she continued:

“Harry ex-girlfriend cheated on him and then left with some french preppy guy saying he wasn’t the one because she could never deal with his ways. This was almost a year ago, he was pretty depressed, to be honest, cried a lot, never wanted to sleep alone” 

“Does he ever want to sleep alone?”

“You know, you are fast to judge people, when I think you are opening up to us... “ she stopped to get one of the posters for the gallery and pointed towards the front exit, needing help to put the poster in its place.

When Lavignia thought she wasn’t going to hear anymore of that, she finally continued the talk: “he hates being alone. He practically moved to Lovelace’s house for the first month, was always listening to Fleetwood Mac’s Landslide, crying. Actually, I think during those first three months he only took one person to bed and he cried during it. He started to get better when he wrote his book, travelled all around Asia, he vanished for maybe 45 days. When he got back, he was him again. Maybe a better version of himself”

“Why are you telling me all of this, you don’t even know if I’m going to stay at the gallery or I’m gonna take the other job”

“You know… I can see in your eyes, the sparkle when you talk about those pieces, when you let yourself go. But then, it's like something turns it on in your brain, almost like it’s short circuiting, and then… you stop, you blush and you give us judgmental stares”

“You know, I can’t help it”

“I know” Nessa said with a faint smile “but we can help you”

.

They were all laughing over bottles of chardonnay and pasta, Lovelace was in the middle of telling one of her many stories about the roaring 30 and all that she done back in New York. They got there half an hour ago, the music crew were beginning to put all the instruments over the small stage. The cantina was only two blocs from the gallery. They were sitting outside, in a round table with red and white tablecloth, with fairy lights to illuminate the place, trees that gave the place a certain fairy look.

When they arrived, there was a petite black woman with a sundress and braids on her hair, she recognized to be Nessa’s fiance, but she couldn’t bring herself to remember her name, no matter how much she tried.

When they sat, she was in the middle of Jeannie and Harry. She could feel his arms brushing her back every time he talked. 

“Guarda se non sei la donna più bella di tutto il nord italia” said a tall man, he must be around his sixties. Very blue eyes, gray hair and charming smile. He had honeyd voice, and man, she really needs to improve her Italian if she wants to stay.

“Quindi mi ci abituo, Angelo. E come sempre: il cibo è delizioso.”

They continued to talk for a bit, Lavignia ended up losing the conversation, looking at the small stage, that now had a singer, maybe she was finally going to be introduced to some good italian song besides Volare.

“Perdona la mia mancanza di istruzione” he looked at Lav “sei nueva qui, guisto?  La tua nuova ragazza, Harry? Che bella”

“Nei miel più grandi sogni, forse” God, Harry’s voice sounded even more charming in italian “Lavignia è il nuovo impiegato della galleria. Ma penso she dovremmo parlare in inglese”

“I am so sorry, my dearest” he said with a very strong accent “ I didn’t knew you didn’t speak Italian. It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Angelino and welcome to my humble restaurant”

“Thank you so much. I know a bit of Italian, but it’s the language I speak the least and with all the noise and people talking at the same time, it gets hard to understand”

In that moment, the song beguin to play “Our music guess is starting now, if you excuse me… Jeannie, mi concede questo ballo?” taking her hand he lead her to the dancefloor, followed by Nessa and Cathy, who she finally remembered the name.

“And then they were two” Harry whispered turning to her 

She took another bite of the pasta containing a moan while Harry finished his glass, getting another bottle and pouring  for both of them”

“It was my bad Italian or Jeannie and Mr. Charming over there were flirting?” Harry smirked with her statement:

“You are absolutely, right. They flirt all the fucking time. It’s cute but sometimes I just want to push them towards a bedroom with a very big bed and say they can only leave after they fucked their brains out”

The more they talked, the more Harry got closer. He asked about her life before Italy and she asked about his book. She told about how she was trapped with her parents even after she graduated, so she left. He told her about his traveling through Asia, the people he met, how he went to a David Bowie show in Japan, that each city he visited brought him back to himself. 

“You know, maybe...can I buy one of your books?” she asked, with a timid glint all over her eyes “I just want to know what type of art you write”

“Oh, my poetry is all about having sex and feeling sad”

“Well, I still want to. I might blush a lot and maybe won’t be able to look you in the eyes on the first few days, but then I’ll get over it”

“How about this, you dance with me and tomorrow I give you my book to read. Deal” 

“Deal” shaking hands then getting up towards the dancefloor. 

Putting both of his hands on her hips, Harry got closer. They could listen to the calming voice of the singer. Softly singin the chorus of the song, with his mouth close to her ear. 

Lavignia could smell his cologne and feel the heat from his body, almost like he was encasing her in a protection spell from the wind. 

“You seem to know the words to the song. Who is this guy?”

“Oh, he is Pino Daniele, right now he only performs at small bars, weddings. But all of his songs are so good, give him a few years and I’m sure he’ll be big, at least here in Italy. That’s for sure” 

After that they were quiet for a moment, she was trying to catch the words to the song. Feeling distracted by the environment they had: fairy lights, the jazz with a popish sound to it, people dancing without a care, everything so colorful. The heat of the summer night was disguised because of the slightly cold wind that came from being close to the beach. Harry cleaned his throat to get her attention:

“I need your help. The Joan Semmel painting is so hard for me to decipher and I think I know why, she painted from such a tender female point of view. And I know I could ask anyone to help me, but I love how in love with art you are. How you lose yourself describing and talking about the pieces” 

“Okay, I can help. But are you sure Jeannie and Nessa won’t be mad?” 

“I already talked to Jeannie and Nessa a little bit before we had to leave the gallery, actually” the slower song came to an end but they couldn’t let each other go. There was comfort in this embrace and light conversation. Almost like they had done this a thousand times before. 

“You could come by my place tomorrow. We can fix this, maybe I can read some of my poems, since you’re so curious” 

“Sure, what time?” 

“Around lunch? There is no hurry since it’s close to eight and I don’t think we’ll be going home anytime soon” 

She had a night full of dancing and wine ahead of her. She could only wonder what would happen tomorrow when the sun came out. 

Day 4: Office Love https://www.phillips.com/detail/A/NY040210/233

The sky was cloudy when Lavignia knocked on the mahogany door. The house from the outside was already beautiful, with vines all over the place, the orange color of the wall and big door. 

“Hey” Harry said while opening the door, dressed in just a satin robe “I was drawing, I lost track of time. Would you like to come in?” 

The door lead her to his living room, there was a big hello round couch, with red walls and a Indian tapestry. The red walls were full of art pieces - all of them pretty much leaning on the sensual side - the  three ceiling to floor windows gave a beautiful view of the street and grey sky. 

“Feel like you’re at your own home, okay? Please put your shoes over there” he said pointing towards a small cabinet “I’m just going to put on some clothes and I’m be back” 

With Harry upstairs, she was left alone to wander through the living room. There were magazines and vinyls all over the place as well as books about a few of the artists they were going to exhibit. He was doing his homework, apparently. 

But then something got hold of her attention: it was a black and white photograph. It seemed like it was an office, a typical American one. With two big windows and a rectangular desk but there, laying at the same desk, there was a barely dressed woman with her breast out and a man -completely dressed- devouring the woman’s chest. 

“Do you like the work of Helmut Newton?” She heard Harry’s voice just behind her, when she turned around there he was with a graphic white t shirt full of little watermelons drawings and jeans shorts. 

“You scared me, you walked down the stairs really quiet” 

“I wasn’t quiet, you were just really paying attention to the photograph. So do you like Helmuts job?” 

“I never heard of him ‘till today” 

“Well… he is a German photographer and is known for his studies of the female body. He worked a lot with Yves Saint Laurent and that was actually how I met him, I loved his fashions editorials of the brand. Then when I was at the fine arts museum in Boston last year, I saw this photograph. He was touring with his new exhibition when I bought this one. But it only arrived last month, when the tour was done” 

He was side by side with her, looking at the piece for a few seconds before continuing his explanation: “the name of this photograph is Office Love. When I had the chance to talk to him he said he wanted his photographs to arouse. And they do, because he so boldly explores his longings. But, in my personal opinion, what makes his art so sexy is his obvious belief that sex in the most important thing in the world” he looked at Lavignia “so, what do you think?” 

She looked at him with wide eyes and open mouth. 

“You don’t have to say anything to me, okay? But think about this painting when you’re alone. I lost the count of how many times I sat on this same couch looking at her and imaging it was me on the picture. Especially this week” did he said what she thinks he said? “Anyway, would you like to eat something before we start? I brought my book with me, thought we could eat a peanut butter sandwich and I’ll read something”. When she nodded, Harry took her hand and lead her towards the kitchen. 

.

His kitchen was all black and white: black and white tiled floor, black electrical appliance with white walls. Black table with white chairs. 

He made the sandwiches and got them a glass full of water. When they were halfway done, he got one his book and asked what type of poem she would like to hear. 

“Anything. Just want to get to know your art” 

“I’ll just open randomly then…” and when he did, his smile flared a little bit, maybe this poem represents a sad moment in his life. When she was close to telling him that there was no need for him to read if it hurted him, he cleared his throat and said: “this is The cherry sonet” 

Along with the cherry trees came hopeless sorrow

The cherry color reminds me that I’ll still hurt tomorrow

Dreams of you erupted in my waking 

My broken heart is still yours for the taking 

When you met him, did he called you ‘cherriè’?

When you kissed him, did you remembered me? 

And when you left me

Did you feel like you were finally free? 

But don’t you call him baby 

Don’t you dare 

To call him what you used to call me 

But don’t you call him baby 

Don’t you dare

To call him what you used to call him 

She felt tears in her eyes, that was the first time he was avoiding looking at her. Closing the book he gave her and whispered “it’s yours. Take care of it” 

“Harry, I’m so sorry. No one deserves to feel this heartbreak” 

“It was a long time ago. I don’t miss her, I don’t even love her anymore. But every time I remember what she done to me and how much pain I went through my hearts remembers the heartbreak.” 

“I understand if you don’t wanna talk about it, but, who was she?” 

“Her name doesn’t matter. She lived here for a while, I fell in love so deeply, I don’t think I was ever in love before her. It was like the world gained color and I didn’t have to be so lonely, anymore. I was still trying to figure it out where I stood in the world, and for that to work out, I tried to be the perfect match for her. I think i lost a bit of me when I lost her. But that was never truly me, you know” he paused to drink some water “ She didn’t like how I treated matters of privacy. She didn’t like the theme of the gallery and she didn’t like Lovelace either. Said she was a bad influence. So to prove her I could work with other themes, I made this work with a French gallery owner. She cheated on me with him.” 

“Harry… I don’t know what to say to you. I never fell in love and don’t even remember liking someone that liked me back, you know? I don’t know much about you, but I can see that you’re good and you don’t deserve any of that” 

He got her hand that was over the table and took in his. Not saying anything but it was like their conversation was happening without needing any words. 

“I think we need to work on the Semmel. Do you want me to bring here or would you mind if we go to my music room. I left it there” 

.

The music room consists of a place full of music instruments, more vinyls and more books. With pillows and tapestry all over the floor, there was no couch or chair. If you wanted to sit, you had to sit on the floor. On the far left of the room there was a painting with a purple bed sheet covering everything. 

“Ready?” He pulled the sheet and she was left marvelous. 

Joan Semmel is a New Yorker painter and writer. Most of her works are about the female point of view. But, even with the knowledge about the artist’s life, nothing could prepare Lav for the pairing ahead of her: it was a woman sitting down on her bed, relaxed and completely naked. She was touching her body and her body was golden from the sunlight. You couldn’t see her face, she was painting from her point of view. 

“You know I can write about any perspective but I’m having trouble with this one because it shows such a intimate view of the woman’s body. I called Lovelace to help me as soon as we got the thing but she said “darling I’m too old to remember the feeling of looking down at a younger version of my body” 

Lavignia couldn’t mutter a word, she was too much hypnotized by the work. And also jealous: she doesn’t know what it is to be naked on her own bed just taking in her own body. She didn’t knew that could be so much freedom when you’re “normal”. Because one thing is too see Bowie and Jagger preaching sexual freedom. She thought it was made for the ones that had an unusual life. But here she was meeting people that had no problem with showing themselves to her. 

“So, what do you think?” Harry asked her. 

“She has a classic technique of color mixing and…”

“Darling I know all of that part. I need your take about the painting, what’s the feeling behind that and what it compares to true life, and then, together, we can figure it out how to fit inside the theme, how to display it and finally decide the story we are going to tell with Love and Sex because, I’m sorry, my dove, but we have such an unique gallery and exhibit that I don’t want to waste it with cliche display options, I know we only have two days but if we think something NOW, we have tomorrow and the entire morning of saturday to fix it.”

It was too much. It was too much. It was too much. 

This isn’t right. This isn’t right. This isn’t right. 

So Lavignia almost screamed without having second thoughts: 

“That’s not right, I can’t go on and talk about that! She had her thoughts while doing this piece, but there must exist this lack of control when people make such works. Life HAS to have control, Harry. YES it’s a wonderful piece but I don’t feel anything while looking at it” 

“You’re lying. I can tell when you’re looking at me like that” Harry said with a sad yet  angry look upon his eyes “your problem is that you never let yourself lose control. You don’t think I notice... but I do. You give everyone the same staring eyes, judgmental eyes when you remember about your ‘lack of control’. When Jeannie asked us to give you a chance, I went with an open heart. I just undressed my soul to you while reading that poem, I thought you were different from her, she judged me and left me. And here you are judging me. How many days till you walk away from the gallery? When we are on the day of the opening and you leave us with all of the work it should be also yours? We are a family down at the gallery and you have no right to fuck that up with your precious control” his voice started to raise “but let me tell you one thing: one day you are going to have a cock so deep in you that you’ll feel it on your tummy, fingers messing with your button and a tongue down your throat and you’re going to find down there is more to life than your precious control” 

He turned his back and finally said: “Get out of my house, I’ll call Lovelace and ask her to fix the Semmel for me.  I don’t think I will go to the gallery until the opening, I can’t look at you when you’re looking at me like I’m sick. If you want to stay, we all are going to welcome you with open arms. If you still  want to learn how to let go of your prejudice like you said it to me yourself: I’m here. But as long as you are judging us and messing with people's hard work: I can’t look at you.” He gave her one final look and opened his mouth one last time: “do me a favor and only go Saturday if you are willing to try. If that’s not what you want it’s not fair to you to continue to suffer what our daily works entails. And it’s not fair to us to be kept on the fence if you’ll stay or not. And it’s not fair to me to be lead on and think I have a chance of  you being mine” 

And with that he left the room. Letting Lavinia alone with her own thoughts. She had to get of his house. She need to talk with someone. 

She needed Jeannie Lovelace. 

.

She knocked one time. 

Nothing.

Another.

Nothing.

One more time and Lavignia would go home and pack.

The door was opened. 

“Darling, are you alright?” Said Jeannie Lovelace. She was with a beautiful black silk skirt, barefoot and a simple white shirt: “I thought you and Harry were going to spend the day together. Come in, come in” 

She went inside still paralyzed. Jeannie lead her towards the nearest couch (the heart shaped one) and said: “Laviginia, do you want a hug?”

She hugged the old lady that smelled like lavender. She felt at home. She cried.

“What happened? Do I need to go and kill Harry?”

“I think I’m the one that needs the killing” and so she begging the story. From the time they met, to all the flirst, how Harry tried to help her to feel at home and more comfortable with her own skin and nature. Told about the flirting and the night before. And then… told her about what happened just a few minutes ago. When she was done, Jeannie looked at her and finally started to talk: 

“Lav, I don’t think he was right to say those things, but I don’t think you were right to judge so harshly. You know, we are what life made us” she paused “I can’t talk about you, I just met you. I hired you not only because of your knowledge and because we needed someone with your background, I could easily get somenome from Rome for that. But it was because I trust my instincts and it felt like there was a little fairy whispering to me ‘she’s the one you need’. I don’t know how much do you want to open up, but I’m here” 

Lavignia opened her mouth without even thinking “do you know why I was in Paris? Because after I graduated my father told me that now that I could say I was educated and fulfilled my ‘feminist dream’ I should go back to real life and marry. He wanted me to marry the neighbor, by the way. When I said no, he just told me to leave. I still had a bit of money and one of my classmates was French, so that’s where I went.” 

“You know, for someone that is so afraid of life, you are quite brave” 

“So I’ve been told” she paused “but… how will this fix the shit Ihave done to him?” 

“My darling, he is no stranger to heartbreak. He is a free spirit, yes, but he longs to have someone to be free with him. There was something about you that made him feel enchanted, the same way he was some time ago with that girl… but she wasn’t the one for him”

“But I have done the same thing: I was quick to me judgmental with him” 

“There is a huge quote by the one and only Anaïs Nin that goes like this: ‘You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book… or you take a trip… and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom (when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death): absence of pleasure. That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness. Monotony, boredom, death. Millions live like this (or die like this) without knowing it. They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children. And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death. Some never awaken’. Do you understand that, darling?”

“I do. How do you remember so much of this big quote?”

“Because it was thanks to this book that I woke up. You see, my family had same expectations for me. But imagine that 40 years ago… women barely could go to university. It was - still is, sadly - a man’s world. But, day by day, we can get our space. And that’s in everything, including sex. Don’t be ashamed to own your power. Own your body. Give your life everything what it deserves. Think of you first. And… when you find out who you are and if that person wants people like us as your friends, will be here. If you want Harry to be with you, he will be. And he will take you on your craziest adventures because come on… he’s an aquarius” 

“I’m a Libra” 

“It’s a good match” Lovelace laughed “would you like some wine? I was about to drink some rosé?” 

One hour later they had bruschetta and one bottle of wine almost finished. She was listening to Lovelace talk about her adventures and, unlike last Monday, she was lovin’ it. That woman had such good stories. 

Maybe was the wine but Lavignia finally had the courage to ask: “Do you think Harry will forgive me?” 

“Darling, the moment you said yes to the wine, I know he will forgive you” 

“Why?”

“Because you stayed”

.

Day 5: sunlight 

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joan_Semmel#/media/File%3AThe_Jewish_Museum's_Wikipedia_Edit-a-Thon_20.jpg

Lavignia woke up with the rays of the sun hitting her face. She looked at the window and it was completely opened. Didn’t she close it last night? 

After all the drinking and talking with Jeannie, she called her a taxi so she didn’t have to ride the bus alone and slightly intoxicated. 

Looking at the clock she had beside the mattress on the floor - she really didn’t have time to make her complete move just yet so her small loft was quite simple: off white walls, a dresser, a kitchen, her mattress and a little door to the bathroom with a a bathtub. There were boxes all over the floor, the Sunday after the opening she would fix everything, maybe paint the walls and get a few posters: one of Stevie Nicks, one of Frida Khalo and one of Bridget Bardot: her most divine life examples. 

Looking at her door, she saw her blue knee high boots and her purse and inside her purse she could see just a little bit of the light pink and blue book cover. 

Maybe … she could? 

She really didn’t want to get up so she crawled towards her purse and got the book. She could imagine his reaction to her crawling for something of his. 

Back to her bed, Lavignia was lost looking at the book cover, trying to catch all of the details. One side was blue and the other pink. The front cover he had the name “Fine Line” and there was a drawing of him laying down, naked. But you couldn’t see nothing, just the contour lines. Nothing else. At the back of the book there was a simple quote: 

This is a story about my journey. 

The one where I found and lost love. 

But I found myself. 

Do you know who you are? 

As soon as the book was opened, Lavignia found the dedication, it was for his mother and Jeannie - who he calls his American mother. Then, there was a list of 15 poems and prose with the number of pages next to it: the cherry tree sonet, I saw an angel; from the hallway I write you this poem; don’t call me baby, again; the fruits of your body; the lights; golden as the sun; adoration; sex is medicine; summertime and butterflies; from Tokyo, with love; the little gallery. 

What was better? Reading the book from the beginning or do just like Harry did not even 24 hour ago and choose randomly. Lavignia went with the later. This time it was a little prose:

Adoration 

I like the love language our eyes share. When we are so together laying in bed with the sounds of the city having a conversation behind the windows. We are so close that I can feel our lashes touch. Do you know I adore you? 

There are words you can’t say yet. And I understand, darling. You don’t have to say you love me. But I have to tell you: I adore you. 

Please, let me adore you

I adore you 

I love you 

Reading this made her understand more about him. Lovelace wasn’t lying when she said Harry feels everything to its maximum. He was so pure when it comes to the matter of the heart. She felt so guilty for how she treated him. But she knows that at the time she was a different person than she is now, just a day later. All thanks to Jeannie and her Anaïs Nin quote. Wanting to read another, she opened the book in a random page, this time it was a poem: 

The fruits of your body 

From the tangerine smell of your body 

To the dreams I have of your lipstick 

It’s strawberry lick, isn’t?

From the way you hold my body 

To the way you make me love it

It’s sultriness, isn’t? 

From taste of watermelon 

That slips all the way down your legs 

I suck it all up. Don’t I? 

From the way you make me grow

To the way you make me shiver 

I’m at your feet

Yours. 

Yours while you’ll have me. 

Yours. 

As long as the fruit season lasts. 

I hope it lasts forever

The more she read, hotter she felt. It was never like this. She ripped her dress off. She ripped her underwear off. She wanted to get off. For the first time. 

But how? 

And then she remembered something a certain curly haired man with a mustache told her: “think about it when you’re alone”. 

That painting. That damn painting. All of the art pieces she looked this week. The smell of him. The way his body moved. The way he looked at her. She was on fire. The sunlight coming from the window ignited the fire on her body. She was finally on fire. 

Looking down at her body, knowing she was treasure map, ready to be discovered. So her journey begins:

A light touch to her neck, with the tip of her finger. The heat grows inside. Her breast so full of desire: she grabbed them. Massages them. Pinching each one of her nipples. Changed the pressure. Moaned and arched her body. She needed more but she didn’t want to stop her exploring, so she raised to her knees, getting one of her pillows. 

Right between her legs. With her hands getting acquainted with herself she rolled her hip and thought of green eyes watching her. Would he have a smile on his face? She hopes so. Because she is so fucking proud of herself. She was a queen in search of the pleasure she never had the right before. 

Her body. Her pleasure. Her orgasm. 

When she got tired from riding the pillow she laid down again. Her hands went to her heat. And she touched and touched and touched. 

And then… sunlight. She was covered in light. She was the sunlight. Her body reactions is like a morning light: beautiful and so unique. 

When she had finally calmed herself she looked around. And something just clicked. 

Getting up and taking a shower was the first thing she needed to do. Then… Lavignia would run as fast as she could to the gallery: she knew what to do about the opening. 

Day 6: perfume  https://fineartamerica.com/featured/perfume-1910-luigi-russolo.html

Lavignia was going to have a syncope. She was sure of it. The sun was finally setting but it was still hot. Hotter than ever. And if she didn’t hurry she was going to be late for the opening. 

The silk white dress Lovelace gave her was from her own wardrobe. “From my peach days” she called. The dress had thin straps and it reached mid thigh with a fringe assuming the rest of the outfit till it reached her ankle. It was a true fastidious dress from the 30s. And she felt in character. 

Just the day before Laviginia stayed back at the gallery till almost 3am together with Jeannie and Vanessa (and Cathy, she got there with dinner for them and stayed to help). 

It was hard but the moment she told her idea, Jeannie and Vanessa fell in love with it. It was original and so in touch with everything the gallery stood for. 

Sitting on the bus she looked at the the street. It was almost night time and people were starting to begin their Saturdays festivities. Lavignia felt her stomach turn and turn, the closer she got to the bus stop the more her nerves were making her crazy. 

She was going to do the presentation. Yes, that was Jeannie and/or Harry’s job. But well… it would be a miracle if he showed up today and Lovelace said it was all Lavignia, so she is the one that making all the talking. 

Getting out of the bus was easy. Finding her around the streets that lead to Mattina ed Estasi was easy. There was music and people talking loudly. From the window of an old building she could see the shadow of a couple making love. 

But the moment she saw the red Harley, nothing was easy. Her heart was beating fast. Harry was already there. He probably saw the way they fixed everything. Just the paintings with a small description to it. The order didn’t offer any technical logic. Maybe he was mad. Maybe he was curious. Maybe he was just as anxious as she. 

But Lavignia knew she wouldn’t get her answer if she just stood there. She had to walk through those doors and face everything. 

She was ready. 

.

The moment she was inside the gallery she felt so proud of herself. Looking at all the pieces circling the space. Forming a cycle. A love and sex cycle. And four of those pieces where on the center stage: first is Sunlight, followed by Correggio and the Aphrodite, the gods and goodness deserved to be together. And, finally, the one she was so afraid on her second day of work but became one of Lav’s favorite art pieces to ever exist: the women with the black stockings. 

When she dressed today, she was inspired by the painting. But, instead of black, it was white. White lace and see through lingerie her friend from France gave her but she never had the courage to wear - till today - with white stocking. A little innocent gif, if Harry was willing to open when the night is over. 

And by the way… where is Harry? The opening was only for another hour and she knows she was the last one here. 

“Oh, you’re finally here. Good” she heard Nessa’s low voice. Dressed in a black glittery jumpsuit with wide legs and a heart shaped cut in the chest area. Looking like the disco goodness she was “Lovelace was getting worried. You look beautiful, by the way” giving her a small kiss on the cheek she continued “I have to go and see if all of the catering is ready but Lovelace and Harry are upstarts. Any second now… okay?” 

And she was alone again. But not for long. 

She could smell him before she could actually see him. The same vanilla and tobacco. But if Lavignia thought she was feeling a little bit woozy with his smell. Nothing could prepare her for the outfit he choose: white trousers and tank top with a white blazer. Something John Travolta would wear. He had a bit of scruff but his mustache was still the first thing she noticed in his face, together with the pink sunglasses. 

Harry was looking at her, frozen at the top of the copper stairs.  

“We match” she said about the all white assembly they both were wearing. 

“You came” 

And he gave her a small smile. Maybe not everything was lost. 

.

Even with their little exchange, Harry hasn’t talked to her. The opening was keeping everybody busy. There was photographers and journalist to entertain. A lot of people from the villa, too. 

From the corner of her eye, she could see Jeannie in her bright pink spaghetti dress talking to Angelino. He was wearing a blue velvet suit. They fitted together. 

The clock read 8:47 pm, more 13 minutes and she would go to the little stage and do the presentation. She was nervous. Lavignia was in need of a drink. 

As if he heard her thoughts, Harry got closer to her for the first time in the evening with a champagne glass:

“You look nervous. Everything is perfect, you can relax” he said, with a faint smile. Up close she could see the birds tattooed in his chest “and don’t you look quite dazzling tonight” 

“Thanks. You look quite handsome yourself” accepting the glass and taking a big gulp, her shoulders finally relaxing a bit “I’m nervous about the presentation” 

“Don’t be. Lovelace always dazzles everyone. And I’m quite curious to find out why she chose this order to present the works” 

He didn’t know. 

“She didn’t. I did. And I’m doing the presentation. I’m so nervous” Harry looked at her with shocked eyes. Then he looked around. Then back at her, finally taking his glasses off and looking right inside her eyes: 

“Then can you help me make sense of everything?”

“I think I’ll let you find out with the rest of the people here” 

“Why are you teasing me so much? I wouldn’t do that” 

“No, you would do worse” she looked at him with a glint inside the honey color of her eyes “actually, I think you will do worse to me, one way or another” 

“Depends, if you’re a good girl then it won’t exist any teasing. So come on… enlighten me. Tell me why everything is organized like this” 

“It’s a story. And that’s everything I’m gonna tell you right now” even with their light conversation, Lavignia felt like there was an elephant in the room, so she finally decided to talk about it “can we talk? You know… about what happened?” 

“After this, maybe?” 

“Why aren’t you upset with me? I thought I would have to get on my knees and beg for you to talk to me today” 

“You stayed. The moment you decided to stay, I decided to give you a little bit of my heart. But after the presentation, we can steal a bottle of champagne and go to the office upstairs” he took the bit of her hair that was loose and fixed behind her ear “about getting on your knees: you still can, darling” smiling he gave her his own glass “and there is my favorite embarrassed little girl. Now drink, Jeannie is going to the stage right now,  your presentation will start soon. 

The anticipation she felt about the promise of an “later” with Harry was only bigger than the wheels that were turning inside her stomach. Lovelace was getting up on the stage, god she was going to die. 

“Ladies, gentlemen and everything that is in between, good night and welcome to our new exhibition: Love and Sex” people were clapping and shouting “Before telling the story behind those pieces, I wanna thank Angelino, from Villaggio dell’amore, for making such a delicious dinner for us. Also I would like to thank Vanessa, she works for the gallery since 1975 and since she got here, we only got better the same goes to Harry “she said posting her glass towards Nessa then Harry “you not only came here and invested in our little gallery but you gave us so much more, most of the pieces from today wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. You had this idea and with our little help, we created this magic. So thank you” he raised his glass and say something in Italian that she couldn’t quite pinpoint with all the clapping. 

“Now, not long ago our family got a new member. She came here with her doubts but the moment she allowed the pleasure behind the art envolve her completely, she changed this exhibit for the better and today she’s going to be the one to talk to you. Graduated in Arts in Communication and my new adoptive daughter: Lavignia” 

Harry gave her a small pat on the but like saying “you’re up”. 

When Lavignia climbed the three steps to the little stage, she could feel like she was shaking. When she hugged Lovelace, she was shaking. The moment she saw all of those people faces, she was shaking. But when she saw his smile, she wasn’t shaking. He gave her peace of mind. 

“Thank you, Jeannie, for the lovely introduction” he gave her a not “Welcome to Love and Sex, today, we are going to tell you a little story” 

“From the start of the day, we have this huge Sunlight, a piece from Joan Semmel. Sunlight here isn’t only the signal of a new day that begins. When we talk about Love and Sex, we also talk about the discover of yourself. Know your pleasure, own your pleasure. Make love to your own body. You will never get the meaning of true love or sex, unless you become acquainted with yourself. Inside out. That’s what Sunlight is about: is the vision of the artist upon her own body. When she loves what she see and knows each part of her; what makes her quiver and long. When she makes her own body shake with love and sex is when she is ready to discover the world. Because the moment you understand yourself, you can understand others without any prejudice or pride. The moment you allow yourself is when you can finally deliver yourself to the fogs of pleasure, so well represented by Correggio’s Jupiter. Because here Jupiter is desire, is temptation, it’s the deliver. It’s when you embrace the feeling of bliss. That’s actually why we put gods and goodness together, because when you look at Aphrodite, you want to be inside the piece, you want to be this woman that not only represents beauty but also love. It’s when the pleasure you search it’s at its peak. Orgasm. High. Whatever word you might want to call it” 

Harry was looking at her with attentive eyes. A proud smile. A promise of an later. Everything about the way he looked at her made her feel anything but ashamed for the things she was saying. She had a speech prepared. But she remembers nothing of it because the moment she was on stage nothing else mattered beside her feelings towards the pieces, at the end everything is about feelings. 

“And then, we finally have The woman with the black stockings; because sometimes you have the chance to find people whose intensity matches yours and you just want that person. You dream and you desire, because now, sex is not only sex but is also love. You fuck at 10 am but have slow sex in the evening. Whatever this person wants, is theirs. You are opening yourself. Not only literally but metaphorically, as well. And you can only hope this person doesn’t get scared only because you’re so open” 

The whole moment she was talking, people were walking around the artworks. But now, they were all looking at her. Now was the time to close her explanation and kiss her man, the same man that was so attentively looking at her and helping her since the first day. 

“If love is a prose, sex is poetry. From all the artworks I just told you all about it, they all share the same theme but are shown in a different way. From the fog that encapsulates the young woman in Jupiter to the woman with her open legs showing to her lover that everything that is hers is also his. Giving him the privilege to see her in such a tender yet sensual way. Because love and sex are privileges. You can have one without the other, but together they are powerful. Is a privilege because you can’t find that in others so easily. The ones that can see what pleasure is all about, that there is no shame in longing, in wanting, in quivering for someone but also recognize than when you do it all of this with love: Is irreplaceable”

Looking around she saw people with tears in their eyes. Lavignia was so proud of herself. 

“Is a privilege because not everybody can find that. A few people spend all of their lives without knowing the true pleasures of the flesh and others spend their lives wanting to be loved, waiting for someone to fit inside of them just like a puzzle. But, sometimes, all you need is you. The world is quite boring but some people know how to make it colorful, just like those artist that shows us the most inherent sentiment of the human race with the most primal desire of the human race. 

This, is love and sex. Enjoy your night. Thank you.” 

Lavignia could hear the applause. Lovelace went to give her a kiss on the cheek, Nessa and Cathy were hugging her, welcoming her to the family. Journalist wanted to talk to to her. She could see cameras flashing and unknown faces congratulating her. But her focus was in looking for him, and she found him: at the top of the stairs, with a bottle on his hand, he gave her a nod, pointing toward the office door. Lovelace, that was standing right beside her told her to go. 

.

The office had baby blue and white walls. That was the first thing she noticed. There was a bathroom and a big window showing the hot Italian summer night. In the middle of the room was a desk and sitting on that same desk, there was a man picking at his nails with a champagne bottle next to him. When he heard the door, he gave her a smile and stood up. 

“I thought you were going to ditch me” 

“No. Just had a lot of people wanting to talk. Sorry” 

“Nothing to be sorry for” he took a step closer to her “can I just start by saying how I’m so fucking proud of you? You gave such a nice speech and you made the theme so much better than what we initially thought. Cheers to that” he gave her a small smile and the bottle. Taking from his hands and drinking a big gulp, the sweet taste of the champagne that had notes of cherry filled her tastes buds. She gave him the bottle back so he could drink and asked him: 

“What was the message you took from everything?” 

“That love and sex is to let yourself go. As you said, it’s a privilege… and what a nice privilege” they were standing in the middle of the room, the sound of the party downstairs was nothing compared to the silent conversation that was happening behind every word they exchanged. 

Harry thought Lavignia looked beautiful with the lights from the night sky illuminating her beautiful face. It was only then and the moon. Their only witness was the moon. He wanted to get a paper and write everything he was thinking. Maybe he would named Her and the moon and would say something among the lines: even the moon takes chances in betting that our love begins tonight. Strong or weak. Happy or sad. 

But they still had so much to talk. So Harry decided to begin: “why were you so harsh to judge? Not only me but everybody here, actually” 

“I think I was intimidated by you. You came telling about your weekend and I could only think ‘he has done more in three days that I have done my entire life. And I don’t know I think when you mix that with the unknown, I ended up misjudging you. More than once. Even when you were always so open to me” she got the champagne, drinking some more “I’m so ashamed for how I treated everybody here. You and Nessa and even Lovelace that first night, drinking everything and passing out.”

“You don’t have to be ashamed, we are family here. And family forgives, right?” he pinched her nose “And yeah, I understand what you mean, we tend to fear the unknown. Were you really discussed by me? And the fact I like a little bit of everything?”

“I think I was jealous,actually.  And I hated myself for the feeling you gave me since last Monday when I saw you walk through the door. But I don’t think I was actually discussed, you know? Not at you, at least. Maybe at myself. It was hard to understand all the feelings I was having  and also understand that feeling all of this is okay” 

“I thought you were beautiful, you know? I was captivated by you since the first day. And we were always on and off during the week. There were days I thought you were finally understanding us and days I was sad because you looked at us as if we were monsters... exept when you start talking about art. That’s beautiful. You lose yourself in it.” 

She was so closer to him now, playing with his rings. Harry noticed little lines on her forehead, like she was thinking about something. 

“You seem like you want to ask me something”

“Do you still want to get to know me? Or have I missed my chance?” He laughed at that. 

“Of course I wanna get to know you.”

In that moment, both of them let go a relieved breath. It was crazy to think about how much could change in one week. Lavignia always thought you could only feel like she was feeling was you know someone for years, but sometimes you have the privilege. 

It was a brand new start, the Sunlight was a reborn for her. And now they were on the same page. They were both open. They both wanted a real chance. 

“Will you be patient with me?” She asked him 

“Always.”

“When are you going to kiss me?”

“When I’m finally inside of you”

“And when is that?”

“In a few hours from now, when the party has died down a little bit”

“I was thinking you were going to kiss me now.”

“Well... we can do other stuff, you know?”

“Like the painting at your house? It’s quite sensual” 

“Look at you. How do you managed to be able to talk like this in just two days”

“You can’t  see it because of the lack of light but I’m blushing right now but... you are right. I had to discover myself. Actually one of your poems helped me, and all of those paintings, they created a good picture in my head.”

“Are you saying you got off to one of my poems?”

She nodded her head. Affirmative. 

“Which one?”

“The one about the fruits”

“Fuck... you are making real hard for me not to kiss you right now”

“Why don’t you?”

“I’m going to. Just not now. If I’m going to kiss you I’m going to do it right. Laying on my bed, with me inside of you. But it doesn’t mean I can’t do something to help you. I can see you’re squishing your thighs.” getting closer to her, he looked right inside her eyes, making her feel dizzy. 

“Tell me, darling. Ever heard about voyeurism?” Harry asked with his deep voice just above a whisper.

She was feeling dizzy. His perfume was increasing all of her nerves. The smell of vanilla marking her melt while the notes of  tobacco was igniting a fire within herself she never felt before”

He got closer again and grabbed her hips “I’m not going to ask again... ever hear of voyeurism?” 

She nodded her head. A negative. 

“Well...it’s when you have satisfaction of watching people engage in sexual situations” he said in a low whisper close to her ear, she was shaking. Harry was walking her backwards till her back was against the desk “I would love to see you hump this pretty table till you get lost in the feeling of a delicious high. And then I’ll take your wet panties from you and put it on my front pocket, close to the part that is aching the most to get to know you” he raised her to sit on the desk, opening her legs in a position her clit was resting on the cold and hard surface “then we are going to mingle. People are going to come to you and talk about how good your speech was. Cathy and Nessa are going to want to take photographs. Poor them, little they know my little girl is without any underwear, wet and waiting for us to get home” he started to help her move her hips on the desk. The first few waves of pleasure passing through her body like little flicks of energy “and then I’ll take you home and fuck you properly for the first time in your life, would you like that, darling?” She nodded her head and he gave her a peck in one of her eyelids “good. But, for all of that to happen I need you to do me a favor and come” 

“Won’t people hear me?” 

“And what’s the matter of that. We are not working anymore. We are enjoying a very sensual party, just like everyone else. And I can promise what we are doing here... everybody down there had done at least two times worse” she was hypnotized by him and his damn perfume “fuck it, right?” 

Fuck it 

Lavignia felt her hips moving more and more. Her toes were turning inside her boots. Harry was whispering dirty nothings close to her ear, leaving light kisses across all of her neck and chest. Holding her tights open, helping her move, sometimes moving his hips closer to her just so she could feel the promise of later. 

Harry let go her trembling body so he could watch her. Taking two steps back he admired her, her body was moving like an erotic dance, one of the straps of her dress was falling of her shoulder, showing him a little bit of the left breast that was covered by the thin fabric of the bra. And then… that was when he saw it: the white stockings. 

“Aren’t you a work of art.. I wish I could paint you right now, make Shiele quiver with jealousy that he didn’t get to capture you” 

She could feel her orgasm approaching, the little flicks of pleasure growing stronger the harder she rolled her hips on the hardwood table. 

“When we get home, I’m going to spread you open, I’m going to kiss and lick every single part of you. I might have to sell my soul just to not come to soon because my body it’s so hot for you. So so hot. Come on, little darling. Come for me” 

And she came.

 Like an avalanche starting from between her legs and making her whole body treble, forming incoherent words and losing its strength. But before she could fall off the desk, his body was back, holding her close and telling her to breath. Taking care of her. 

When she came down completely of her high he took her panties off. She was wide eyes when he smelled and said to himself something among the lines of “delicious”. 

This was only the start of tonight.

.

The wind was hitting Lavignia in the face, getting closer to his neck. His Harley was running around the Italian streets. She no longer felt ashamed for the thoughts going round her head in comparison to their first ride together. 

After their little encounter at the office they went downstairs holding hands. Getting funny looks and a thumbs up from Nessa and Cathy and a smile from Lovelace. 

They danced with people, looked at all of the artwork together for the billionth time, Harry introduced her to a designer that was at the opening and a few other people. When they noticed it was close to 2 am and people were leaving. 

They stayed to help to dismount the stage and be sure nothing happened to the pieces but Lovelace told them to go home. 

So now it was 3 am and Lavignia was taking advantages of her position behind Harry to stuck her nose in his hair and take in his smell. Maybe she needed to see a doctor. She was addicted to his perfume. 

When they finally reached his place, Harry gave her his key to open a little gate so he could park the motorcycle. She noticed that he had a very yellow BMW. 

“Not that I don’t like the Harley but how come you never drive this beauty?” 

“The gallery is so close from my place that I don’t see a reason why. But, I’ll take you for a ride anyday. How ‘bout that?”

She nodded her head while still looking at the car but the moment Harry touched her back, indicating to go in through the backdoor, she stopped everything to follow him. 

They were back to the black and white kitchen. Harry took of his white blazer, now only with the white tank top and the trousers. She could finally see his tattoos now. The naked mermaid, the ship. Lavignia was so hypnotized by him that she didn’t move from the door. 

“See something that you like, darling?” He asked putting the pink glasses on the table together with his blazer. Lavignia didn’t answer anything, closing the door, she walked towards him. Taking off her shoes and putting her purse on the table as well. 

“Can I get you anything?” He asked “some wine” she hugged his middle and nodded her head in a negative “or maybe water? Something to eat?” She noticed his smirk, he was living to tease her, but it was a week long teasing “little darling, if you don’t say anything I’m just going to keep asking. Put those pretty red lips up to good use and tell me what you want” 

“You made me a promise early tonight…” 

“Hey, come on… to be shy on me now” he was so close, the heat of his body could be felt in her back, he was closer and closer till… oh, he was already hard? 

“You said you were going to kiss me…” 

“I was going to kiss when…” 

“You…” she could do it, she could say it “when you are finally inside of me” 

“That’s my girl, come up”

He lead her towards the stairs. Lavignia wanted to see every artwork he had around the house but she was too focused on him (and his damn perfume). Soon enough they were in front of a dark wood door. 

His room had light pink walls, tall floor to ceiling windows and in the middle of the room a huge bed with a canopy. He told her to feel comfortable and she went to sit on the bed with her feet barely touching the ground. 

“Don’t you look pristine sitting all straight and proper. You can get more comfortable darling, I swear the bed isn’t going to bite you” 

He was kneeling in front of her, with both arms at each side of her body. 

“Why are you on your knees?” 

“Because I’m going to pray”

“I didn’t know people prayed before having sex” she joked

“Darling you can’t be serious”  she laughed and he was stuck admiring her but then she stopped at looked at the painting he had on the wall 

“Is that the 1910 painting by Luigi Russollo?” 

“Yeah, I like the way he uses his synesthesia to make the most sensual paintings” he kissed her cheekbones and started making his way down her neck, using his hands to fiddle with her dress. But he wasn’t done yet, we wanted to make her blush a little more “so… can I begging my prayer?” 

When she nodded her head he attacked her left breast over the dress, she was lightly moaning and he was getting dizzy. She was the best type of drug, every little thing seemed to me a new feeling for her and he wanted to watch her while she discovered more and more of the pleasures of the flash. 

“It’s too hot” she said is a whisper 

“Can I take of your dress?” Giving him a small yes, she helped him take of her dress, now, only in her bras and white stocking. She looked like a goodness, deserving its place with next with the Aphrodite back in the gallery. 

Harry used his hands to make her lay and opened her legs. He they started to kiss her legs, going up to the inside of her thigh, when she could feel his breath, he went to her other leg and made the same path. 

When he felt like both of her legs were full of loving,  he kissed just above her little point of pleasure, just to see how she would react. She whispered a little “stay” and he couldn’t wait anymore, he has to pray, he couldn’t delay it anymore so he just gave a full lick from her opening to her mound. Playing with her labia but never touching her clit, he wanted her swollen for him. Anxious for his lips, longing for his cock. 

Using the tip of his fingers, he was playing with her opening, but never actually penetrating her. When he thought she was getting loud enough, he started to suck at her clit the same moment his middle finger entered her. Using a come here motion, he found the button inside of her. 

Lavignia felt like she was in heaven, she was being adored by this man’s mouth and hands. She wanted more, she needed more. Trying to move her hips towards his mouth to get an even better feeling. 

Normally, Harry would hold the person down, but Lavignia looked like an angel and she had such a sweet taste. He just couldn’t so he gave her everything he could and let her take anything she wanted from his mouth and fingers. 

It didn’t take long till she was a trembling mess. Her release was sweet like honey and the most enjoyable thing to watch. 

While she was calming down from her high, Harry got up and took of his shirt, he was sweating too much. Then he help her up the bed and started to kiss her eyelids and comp his finger through her hair. 

“Hi” she said 

“Hey” he gave her a peck on the tip of her nose “do you want anything? Maybe water?” 

“No” she used her leg to press the tent that was appearing in his crotch area “I want what you promised me”

“Are you sure? We can do it tomorrow, I don’t mind if you’re tired. You came pretty hard” 

“Please, I want to feel you” 

“Okay” 

He was hers. Anything she wanted, he would give to her. So, her wish was his command. He stood on his knees and opened his pants never taking his eyes off of her. 

Lavignia was feeling her body burn so much. She was close to the point of hyperventilating, the moment she saw his member spread free. 

“No underwear?” 

“It gets in the way” 

When they were both fully naked (with the exception of her white stocking, “this one stays” he told her) and he was on top of her, he took one of her hands and asked if she has done that before. 

“A few times, almost five years ago” 

“I’ll go slow. Please, hold my hand and tell me if it hurts too badly” 

When she nodded, Harry got hold of himself and started to massage her with it, her clit, her labia, trying to get himself wet with her moisture. That’s when he remembered “on that nightstand I have a lube, it’s water based and smells like orange. Would you mind if I used a bit on both of us? It might help to ease myself into you” 

“Sure” she said with har breath starting to pick up again. So Harry for the bottle and warned her it might be a bit cold. 

Using the gel with both of his fingers, he got in easy, making the same come here movements and sliding his finger out with a “pop” sound. 

When he went to pass on his own dick, she stopped him and with a shy voice asked if she could do it for him. And he said yes. 

So she used both of her hands to be able to get his entire shaft and massaged him, up and down, squeezing when she got to the base and using the top of her finger when it was the head, all following his instructions. 

“Stop” he told her “if you continue I’ll come before we even start and I don’t think I can’t handle anymore” 

So, they were back to the same position as before, he on top of her, both of her legs were intertwined with his, his left hand on her right hand and they mouths finally close to each other.

When he started to enter her, she felt a small burn. It wasnt bad, but she isn’t didn’t knew if it was good. He was slowly easing himself and after a while she decided that it was a good type of burn. 

When Harry was all the way in he finally said: “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?” 

It was a weird first kiss, but it was perfect. He was inside of her in more ways than he could explain. People say that when you have sex, even if it’s a one night stand, your essence connects with person, and they were connecting in a way that it was rare in any galaxy. 

Then he started to move, painfully slow, they didn’t have anywhere to go, that was no reason to rush. 

“You know, it’s not going to be good for my ego if I come too soon” he told her 

“After a week of reading I was hope for you to blow my mind not to blow your shot too soon” 

“Heeeet, that’s mean” 

He was loving it, he was having sex with the most amazing girl and they were still able to have that banter he loved so much. God, he was going to fall in love with her. He could feel it. 

After that, they let their bodies to the talking. She was moaning and so was he. It was sweet. It was hot. It was everything love and sex is all about. 

When they were done, Harry got them water from the kitchen and a banana. Then she wanted to do it again, so they did it, this time against the bedpost. When they were done, they talked for hours, finally getting to know each other. They feel asleep the sun was already high in the sky and there wasn’t any worry  or shame for her neither any pain for him. They were cured and were ready to begin another journey, this time with one another, another day, another sunlight. 

Day 7: a balcony in Italy https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Paintings-Bedroom-Balcony-In-Italy/1131921/4490457/view

She woke up alone inside the bed, completely naked with the exception of the satin sheets. There was a single sunflower resting on top of the tiny desk next to the bed with a simple paper that read: 

Good morning, bunny 

Get out of the room and take a left. You will find a round wooden stairs that will lead you to the balcony. I’m waiting you for breakfast. 

Getting a purple robe that smelled just like Harry she went upstairs, finding a suspended garden with all types of flowers she could think. There was an old table  that looked from 1930, on top of the same table there was fruits and pancakes. The sunlight was shining from the big balcony, letting the Italian summer fill their lungs and eyes. 

She found Harry sitting  on one of the chairs, wearing a green and white striped shirt with washed blue jeans. She could see he had shaven because there was no scruff but his mustache was still there.  Just from looking at it she feels a chill running down from her back till it reaches her most private parts at the memory of the same mustache passing across all of her body in his always there teasing manner. 

Harry didn’t see Lav at first, but he did listened to her footsteps. Writing something in his journal, not touching his food. Waiting for her. 

“You know... how long are you planning on staring at me? Should I get naked to make it better for you?” He said with a smile on his face, finally looking at her with a shine inside his eyes. One that hasn’t left since they made up yesterday. 

“Sorry I didn’t...”

“Bunny you can stare at me all you want. But I bet you’re hungry, so why don’t you come here and eat with me?”

Lavignia started to walk towards Harry but he stopped her: 

“Naked” that made her pause all of her movements. “Take of your robe love, and come and sit on my lap. Let’s eat together, shall we? I wanna be close to you” Messing with her tangled curls she looked around and at the balcony: what if someone sees me? 

But it only took one look at Harry to know that there is no problem because even if someone sees them: fuck it, right? Isn’t that what she learned from this crazy week?

So she took off her robe, trying to look Harry in the eyes, no matter how much she wanted to look at the ground. Walking towards him, she won a beautiful smile as a present for her courage. 

Now, on his lap, with her back against his front, she relaxed. Maybe was his smell - the fant reminder of the perfume and sex - or the way he kissed the back of her neck and passed his hands through her hair. 

“So what do you want?  We have coffee,orange juice. Bread and eggs. Pancakes and fruits.” 

“Isn’t a bit late to be eating breakfast? It’s almost 3 pm” 

“I mean... we did go to bed almost 8 am. And I see there is nothing bad with having breakfast for lunch” 

With that Harry served her first (she wanted strawberries and pancakes) and then choose a slide of watermelon to start his meal - god knows how much they needed to eat after the night rolling around the bed. 

“How did you have the time to make such a big breakfast?” 

“Oh, I only made the pancakes” he said using his free hand to caress her right thigh “was planning on getting you breakfast in bed, and all of that. You know how smitten I am with you, bunny” he gave her a pitch on the cheek but continued talking: “But Lovelace sent this big breakfast as a thank you for the success that was the opening night yesterday. So I thought: change of plans. Organized everything here and left the note for you. But it didn’t take long because I don’t think I waited more than 20 minutes till you showed up using the robe even if I was very clear that you should come naked” he said giving her a funny look, pretending to be disappointed. 

“Well... I don’t see you being naked” 

“That can be arranged in 30 seconds, if you want” 

She laughed and they continued to eat, the only sounds they could listen was the birds and the faint radio from someone outside, playing a romantic yet cheesy Italian song none of them ever heard. 

Harry was using his free hand to tease her. Pressing his leg upon her mound. She was getting wet, feeling the heat of June so much hotter than actually way,  like she was inside a stove. 

“So, is here that you and your...” Lavignia was curious about his miscellany in bed, but she didn’t want him to feel mad or think she was jealous, she was just curious “guests “yeah, she choose the right word “here to refresh?” 

Harry laughed: “my guests never actually even been here or my bedroom” 

“Oh, so I’m different from all of them?” 

Harry turned her around on his lap,  with both of her legs each side of his waist. He took her head in both hands with a serious look: 

“From the moment I saw you I was captivated. When I noticed how different you were I was so afraid you wouldn’t give me a chance because I have had my fair share of broken heart: from being cheated on to people who just said I can’t imagine the father of my children dressing the way you do all of that hurts, you know? I always give everything of me to the world but I never see the return of something that could be meaningful. And I think you mean something. I know you for only a week but there is a piece of me that wants to get to know you, fuck, even if you didn’t wanted to try and open up for life I would still find a way to be in your life either way. There is something inside those honey colored eyes that made me get so lost inside of them that I started to talk so much nonsense the day we met” he shook his head in a sign of denial “ I know I am a bit out of the usual guy but the first thing you heard from me was about a three way I had just the weekend before, that is no way to met someone you would wanna take out on a date, right” 

“No. I was intimidated. I still am. There is so much I don’t know about the world and I only found out when I walked through that gallery door.” 

“I think we balance each other and I can’t wait to figure it out more of us. If you want” 

“I would like that” 

“So, can I take you out on a date?” 

“Isn’t this a date?” 

“No, I wanna proper wine and dine you. Maybe take you to the movies. Fleetwood Mac is coming to Rome next month, we can have a little weekend getaway together” 

“Okay. You can take me on a date” 

He kissed her with fire in his soul after this. He was so used to being used just for his body or people with the dream of being one of his muses. And now he finally had a chance to start something amazing with this shy girl who is thrust so much in him. 

“Good. Now that is settled, I wanna try something.” 

He raised her up to her feet, opening his pants just enough to free his semi erect cock: “come and sit on me” 

She looked at him with questioning in his eyes: “what about breakfast?” 

“We are going to eat breakfast, come on” and with that she carefully sat on him. Both of them growling. 

He took her plate and gave her a bite of the pancake. Everything seemed surreal for her: he was growing bigger inside of her and she was getting wetter. Every time she tried to move to get a bit of friction he would stop her. So there was only one thing for her to do: accept the food in her mouth and watch when he took bites of his watermelon looking at her. There was just something so erotic about everything. 

“You know” Lavignia said when they were done and Harry rested their plate on the table “you are stuffing me full both ways right now” with that joke they started to laugh together 

“One week ago you wouldn’t say this” Harry noted “I’m proud of you bunny. So proud that I’m going to give you a reward. 

She looked at him, questioning. But he just took his hand and tapped her lips saying: 

“Open up” she opened her mouth “tongue out” 

And he did what she wasn’t expecting but it wasn’t a surprise at all: he sucked her to the inside of his mouth. Using his right hand to pull her hair while the other was getting down her body. 

“Tastes just like strawberries, so fitting for this summer evening” He said before going in for more. 

They started to kiss and his fingers were playing lightly with her clit. Never giving the pleasure necessary but always there... remembering her of the feeling of him inside and outside of her. 

The more they kissed faster he would move his hand in her intimate parts while the other was manhandling her, with a strong grip on her hair, she couldn’t move. She was completely at his mercy. 

When they both couldn’t take it anymore, Harry got hold of her hips, lifting her up and slamming her down his body, sending sparks through both of their bodies. 

In that moment, she was stuck with the feeling of him he was the only thing that mattered. If someone could see them from the balcony: so be it. Even being on top, he was the one making her move. She couldn’t wait till the day she’d have the courage to be the one in charge. 

“I’m not gonna last long” said Harry “sorry” 

“It’s okay...” she said moaning. She was close to coming but from the sounds and the beating of Harry’s heart against her own: he was closer. Following her instinct she started to roll her hips every time he slammed her down, biting his neck and moaning in his ear: just for him. 

It didn’t take long till Harry’s movements got a bit out rhythm so she said: “fill me up, come on. I need to feel you, to see you” 

Harry was a goner. Closing his eyes and opening his mouth. He looked like an angel, if angels could be naughty as him. 

When he opened his eyes, there was this adoration inside the way he looked at her. It was so loving that Lavignia said a little “oh” when he simply got up with her on his lap,used his hand to get whatever was on his way and her threw her on the desk, in the middle of the food, books, flowers. 

He got down on his knees, looked at her through hooded eyes, mouth close to where she needed him the most and said: “second breakfast”

And third. 

And forth. 

The end

Oh, God, this was almost one moth of work and I’m so glad it all turned out just like I wanted, but first, i need to thank someone.

This fic exists thanks to the book “Woman, myth and godness”, it’s a book about the represetation of the woman inside arts, literature. It was how I found out about Sunlight, and fell in love with the concept.

And last but not least: I decided to use an OC because she had such a strong personality I needed to give her a name. If anyone is curious the faceclaim is a south american singer from the 70s called Gal Costa, so yaaay for poc charecter.

Anyway, I hope you guys like it!

#majorharry20k #harrry styles #harry styles fic #harry stykes fanfiction #harry styles blurb[harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry x reader #harry styles x reader #imagine 1d #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs

[13reasonsinourstars]

*♡*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*♡*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*♡*ﾟ ゜ﾟ*♡*ﾟ

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BTS Not So Berry Challenge

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Hello Tumblr! 👋

This post might be a bit long and somebody may have already done this before but this idea just came to me and I wanted to share it with fellow BTS fans.

Now I don't know if any of you out there play The Sims but if you do and you're feeling bored for gameplay this might be a fun game for you. So sit back, kick your feet up and enjoy 🥰

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So if you are an avid sims player you may have already heard of the 'Not So Berry Challenge' if you haven't here is a link and I will give you a quick description of the concept.

https://www.google.co.uk/amp/s/lilsimsie.tumblr.com/post/157671494755/not-so-berry-legacy-challenge/amp

The Sims 4 Not So Berry Challenge was created by tumblr user 'lilsimsie' as far as I know, and it is where you are given ten colourful generations with rules for each sim that you have to carry out and complete. It is super fun and I am currently half way through it myself and that is why this idea came to me. The link above will explain it to you in more detail so please go and check it out if you're interested and without further ado let's get on with this post!

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How the challenge works:

1. Each heir must represent the colour of their generation (i.e. hair, makeup, clothing, house etc.)

2. The colour of spouses does not matter as they are not part of the challenge. Unless otherwise stated you can do what you please with them.

3. You may live wherever you please unless stated in the rules of that sim.

4. Every generation is supposed to complete all of their rules before moving on to the next heir.

5. If you play my version of the challenge please share it with me by twitter. My user is @in_reasons

Required packs:

Base Game, City Living Expansion, Discover University, Get to Work

Although this is optional and you can change traits etc if you have too.

In this version there will only be seven generations as there are only seven members of BTS but most of the rules remain the same I have just tweaked them to fit the boys a little more.

That being first of all I have changed/not included all of the colours so they match the boys, and personality traits and aspirations have been altered to coincide with the members.

Let's Go!

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Generation One: Purple (Jin)

Kim Seokjin is a mischievous chef that really loves the colour purple (because of Army 😜). He's career driven but still makes time for silly pranks and outings with his closest friends. He loves luxury and wants the best for himself and his family.

Traits: Childish, Foodie, Goofball

Aspiration: Chief of Mischief

Career: Culinary Career (Chef Route)

Rules:

. Master Culinary Career and complete Chief of Mischief aspiration

. Master mischief and cooking skills

. Unlock all 27 food stall recipes (City Living Expansion

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Generation Two: Mint (Suga)

Min Yoongi had everything he desired as a child but he was always longing for more. He was hardworking as a teenager with part-time jobs and as an adult he is only focused on his career. If there was a workaholic trait in the Sims 4, Yoongi would have it.

Traits: Music Lover, Lazy, Creative

Aspiration: Musical Genius

Career: Entertainer Career (Musician Route)

Rules:

. Master the Entertainer Career and complete the musical genius aspiration

. Master the Piano Skill

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Generation Three: Red (J-Hope)

Growing up all Jung Hoseok loved to do was listen to music and dance. He was very close to his family and had lots of friends. Unfortunately as there is no dance career in the Sims 4, Hoseok has chosen the next best thing; to be a pro-athlete. At least this way he gets to be a cheerleader which is kinda like dancing, right?

Traits: Cheerful, Dance Machine, Active

Aspiration: Friend of the World

Career: Athlete Career (Pro Athlete Route)

Rules:

. Master Athlete Career and Dancing Skill

. Complete Friend of the World aspiration

. Always attend parties you get invited to

. Constantly throw your own dance parties

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Generation Four: Yellow (RM)

Kim Namjoon always felt like he was different. While the rest of his family were sporty and athletic, Namjoon just wanted to be shut inside the library reading a book. As a kid he always got his parents to read him a bedtime story and always loved watching the News channel on TV. Seeing as his fantasy book world was better than the one he lived in he decided to make a change, growing up to become a politician. Oh, and Namjoon loves to fish (ya know, crabs 🦀)

Traits: Genius, Bookworm, Good

Aspiration: Renaissance Sim

Career: Politician Career (Charity Route) - Requires City Living Pack

Rules:

. Master Writing Skill and Research and Debate (Requires University Pack)

. Master Politician career and complete Renaissance aspiration

. Clean the rubbish from the beaches whenever you visit

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Generation Five: Pink (Jimin)

Every new skill Park Jimin learns he will try his best to improve until he is perfect at it. He had a lot of friends growing up and is still the social butterfly now he is an adult, causing him to become a massive flirt. He is silly and kind and unknowingly leaves behind a trail of broken hearts. As a kid his dream was to always grow up go become a policeman.

Traits: Perfectionist, Goofball, Romantic

Aspiration: Serial Romantic

Career: Detective Career - Requires Get To Work Pack

Rules:

. Master singing and two other skills of your choosing

. Complete Serial Romantic spiration

. Complete Detective Career

. Must have had at least three different relationships

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Generation Six: Grey (V)

Kim Taehyung is the most creative of his family. A lover of art, music and fashion. He is always posting online and creating new looks and trends. He is his own person and never follows the trends of others but makes his own. He loves shopping and hanging out in art galleries.

Traits: Art Lover, Childish, Creative

Aspiration: Painter Extraordinaire

Career: Style Influencer (Stylist Route)

Rules:

. Master painting and photography skill (Requires Get to Work pack)

. Record video blogs and upload them onto the web

. Must live in the art district of San Myshuno for entire young adult life (Requires City Living Pack)

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Generation Seven: Black (Jungkook)

Jeon Jungkook spent his childhood inside his room playing computer games and watching TV. He never had many friends and when they did visit they would play video games together for the entire day. As he grew up he decided he wanted to earn money doing this so chose to become a professional gamer. His favourite thing to do it visit the GeekCon Festival when it is in town, never missing it! (Requires City Living Pack)

Traits: Geek, Loner, Unflirty

Aspiration: Computer Whiz

Career: Tech Guru (eSport Gamer Route)

Rules:

. Master Programming and Video Gaming skills

. Complete Computer Whiz aspiration

. Master Tech Guru career

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That's it for this blog, I really hope you enjoyed it and give this challenge a go. Please let me know in the comments and don't forget to @ me on Twitter if you try it 💜

See you next time Tumblr! 👋

©All rights belong to the original creater of the 'Not So Berry Challenge'

© This BTS version belongs to me

#bts #sims 4 #seokjin #namjoon #yoongi #hoseok #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #Jin #RM #Suga #Jhope #V #notsoberry #not so berry challenge #sims

[where-is-francis]

Boys Don’t Cry

Steve Harrington x Male Reader

Request:

Prompt: “I came by your house late at night for advice and you’re dancing in your bedroom to The Cure and, not gonna lie, it’s pretty amusing.”

A/N: And the slowest writer ever award goes to: me. But ok Boys Don’t Cry is one of my favorite songs to dance to in an over-dramatic fashion while I’m alone in my bedroom. And I figured like. Why not.

TW: underage drinking, Guys Bein’ Dudes™️, slight language, you dated Nancy but the sexuality is never specified.

Cliques were always dangerous. You never really fit in with any specific group. Fellow peers at Hawkins had just kind of dubbed you a wanderer. And for as much as the teachers liked you, you found yourself in detention quite a bit. Not because you actually started fights, but pissing off Steve Harrington was one of your favorite hobbies. And when Billy Hargrove moved to town, your focus simply shifted to tormenting him instead.

Steve would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the attention. For whatever reason, aggravating each other was the main basis of your friendship.

It was about third period and you’d come in to school late. The secretary noticed you weren’t at roll call for algebra or science, so she called your house. And before you could get to the phone your mother picked up and began screaming at you, whom she just assumed had already left, prompting you to get ready and leave.

The hallways were empty and it was fairly quiet, save for the noises of one of the gym classes going on. Your locker, unfortunately, was in the hall right beside the gym. Squeaks from sneakers and thuds from a dribbling basketball came from behind closed doors. Every time that damned ball hit your head throbbed more, still recovering from the party last night.

Tossing your Walkman inside, you began to grab out one of the books you’d need. English had been boring, but not as laggy as math and science. For a kid who was good with numbers you were surprisingly bad at the two subjects.

A sudden break in your thoughts came when a familiar face spotted yours and began to walk over. You could sense the uneasiness in the way he walked, normally he’d be trying to scare you. With everything in your hands, you nudged the door to your locker closed and waited for him to say something snarky as a greeting.

But he never did.

(E/c) orbs met dark brown ones. The light behind them was gone, now replaced with a sorrowful expression.

“You good?”

“Not really,” he sighed defensively.

“What’s got you—?”

Memories of the party from the night before came back in a blurred montage. Drinking, dancing, smoking, laughing, making out, repeat. You didn’t remember much, but at one point Nancy spilled her drink and went to the bathroom. What seemed like five hours later, Steve was pissed and ended up leaving.

“Oh, shit.” You visibly cringed.

“Look, I’m going to go talk to her.”

“It’s a wasted effort, man.” You reasoned. “Coming from somebody who’s been with her, just trust me.”

He always went to you for advice when it came to her. Nancy Wheeler was a very complex person, but you two dated for a while, and you kind of knew everything. A breakup came after about ten short months when you grew apart, but after a bit of a chat you two decided to stay friends.

The brunette shook his head slightly and glared. Reaching a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose, he muttered something about just getting it over with. You opened your mouth to speak just when the secretary stepped out, a less than pleased look on her face.

“(L/n), you better get to class before you end up with another detention. You too, Harrington.”

A small smirk crossed your features. “Aww, that’d be such a shame, huh?”

Steve quickly sauntered off, presumably to talk to Nancy, and you were left with the secretary. The look in her tired eyes that reached your own pleaded for you to just shut up and go to class.

“They aren’t paying me enough for this,” she groaned.

The smirk on your face morphed into a full shit-eating grin, then prompting you to make your way down the hall and into your English class. Just another average day would follow, nothing out of the ordinary.

Later that evening as you got home, you decided it would be best to unwind and listen to music. Nobody else was home, your parents both at work, so that meant you could do pretty much whatever you wanted. Reaching your beat up door, you began to tug your denim jacket off and toss it onto the chair in the corner.

Everything about the room was overdone; posters adorned the off-white walls, the pictures overlapping at times, and stickers thrown onto the closet door. Two large bookshelves were filled to the brim with your music collection, some sketchbooks, and whatever other junk you had that couldn’t be left on the floor.

Nancy always hated your room but that was to be expected. It didn’t bother you much, you’d rather be at her house anyways.

You shut the door and began to change into something a bit more comfortable, wondering what you’d do with yourself for the remainder of the night. Ordering a pizza sounded pretty good, considering nobody was home and you didn’t want to cook. Most nights alone you’d end up watching TV, playing video games, and then crash at about 2 AM. A vicious cycle, one you never grew tired of.

Without thinking, you reached over and grabbed your phone from the receiver and dialed Steve’s number. It seemed like a good idea at the time, the two of you could hang out for a bit without getting yelled at.

Last time he was over, your parents came home earlier than anticipated and found the two of you sat on the couch, drunk, reading through the phone book (for whatever reason), only to just lose your shit whenever you saw a name that sounded even mildly amusing.

The phone rang a few times before eventually being picked up.

A sigh could be heard. “What?”

“Hey, loverboy. I’m ordering pizza tonight. You wanna come over and hang out?”

“Are we going to get our asses ripped this time?” The brunette retorted.

A fake laugh came from you. “That was one time, so are you coming or not?”

There was a minute long pause between you two. No matter how much you annoyed each other, you were one of his weaknesses. And pizza was something that he couldn’t say no to.

“Fine, but—”

“Great! See you in a few.” You chirped and practically smashed your phone back onto the base.

Steve lived only a couple streets down from you. You met back at the beginning of elementary school, both of you riding the same bus. Neither you, nor him, could really remember when you started to consider the other a ‘friend’. But it mainly had something to do with him and Nancy being a couple.

Since she and you dated before and were still close friends, somehow you ended up becoming the marriage counselor along the way.

But hey, the more the merrier, right?

Your mind couldn’t help but drift sometimes. Steve was pretty cute in your eyes, even with his weird hair. Generally the same taste in music, shows, movies, and obviously the same taste in girls. And although he was stupid (sometimes), he was a good dude.

It wouldn’t take long for him to reach the house. In the meantime you decided it would be best to put in the order for the pizzas. A quick call to the nearest shop, and they’d deliver it as soon as it was done.

After scanning through some music, you finally settled on one: a mixtape of your favorite songs from The Cure. You popped it in with no hesitation and set your player to max volume. The intro to Siamese Twins rang out in your bedroom, the beat eventually making all of the furniture thud in perfect time. Glass window panes shook as well, you’d probably have the neighbors complaining in the morning.

Your feet guided you around the house aimlessly as you searched for something to drink, the sound of music becoming more muffled as you entered the kitchen. It reminded you of the party a few nights ago, but far less stuffy. And with better music.

“I chose an eternity of this; like fallen angels, the world disappeared,” you sang slightly to yourself as you rummaged through the cabinets.

Nothing.

Onto the fridge, stocked full of Coke and other stuff you didn’t much care for. Nobody

Meanwhile, down the street, Steve could hear loud music coming from your street. Which was odd, if there was a party he would’ve known about it. Upon further inspection he realized it was coming from your house. The sun was already starting to set behind said abode, nestling itself deeper and deeper into the rows of houses that occupied the area.

The Harrington boy stepped a bit closer and took in the view; your house covered in orange and red tinted leaves, the living room and kitchen lights shining through their respective windows. Your silhouette moved about inside, gracefully, to the beat. Almost like a shadow with perfectly fluid movements.

His focus shifted to the porch lights, then the door, the doorbell, and back again. He only assumed your parents weren’t home but he wasn’t sure, although with as loud as the music was, ringing the doorbell or knocking wouldn’t have done any good anyways. It took him a bit to move, then walking around to the darkened backyard where he counted the windows.

The first one was your parents’ room (he learned the hard way), the second belonged to the bathroom, and finally, the third was the entrance to your bedroom. He glanced down, careful not to step on the flowers, then maneuvered his way around to find a spot where he could see through the gap blinds. What he got was something out of a renaissance painting.

You with your mom’s pearl necklace and matching earrings draped carelessly, your shirt all the way unbuttoned, and a wine glass in your hand. To top it all off, your hair was a mess, but complemented the askew lipstick that painted your lips. Your hips swayed back and forth in a graceful yet drunken manner. Inside, Boys Don’t Cry came on the stereo.

Each step you took was calculated to sync with the beat, the only thing that could’ve made it more amusing was if you would’ve been wearing heels.

“What is that moron doing?”

“I would say I’m sorry

If I thought that it would change your mind

But I know that this time I have said too much,

Been too unkind,”

You sang along, a slurred version not being heard by the other male as he watched from the window. Brown eyes were fixated on your form as you leapt up onto the bed, forcing a bit of a stumble from yourself. After almost toppling over, you continued on.

“I tried to laugh about it, cover it all up with lies

I tried to laugh about it, hiding the tears in my eyes cause—”

“Boys… don’t cry.” Steve finished.

In the midst of the dancing spree you turned and locked eyes with said boy. The room was swaying about and took a minute to stop, your vision focusing on him. Each step you took closer to the window made your knees feel weaker, but somehow you managed to pull the screen up to let the other boy in.

The room was almost like a time capsule; nothing really moved or touched since the last time he’d been there, the only difference being the clothes that had been strewn across the floor. Sudden weight on the bed caused it to dip behind him. When he turned, your body was draped gracefully across the dark (color) sheets. Almost something out of an erotic painting, the clash of textures and colors alike.

Originally, the plan had been to come to wallow in self pity and ask for advice about Nancy. Now all he could think about was you, tipsy, singing along to music so loud it would rival an actual concert.

“You—you want a sip?” You shouted over the lyrics, somewhat slurred.

Steve thought about it for a minute, taking glances at your extended hand every so often. A slight sigh escaped him, then taking the glass and downing whatever was left. He started coughing and gagging as a result of the cheap liquor hitting, but didn’t care too much to do anything besides wipe his mouth off.

Everything in that moment was fuzzy, and loud, and warm. Time was stopped for you two. Nothing really mattered except the exact moment you were living in. Not some dumb party, not some spoiled suburban girl, and most certainly not being sober.

Steve’s hands fell to his hips. The newfound anxiety on his face made you wonder, but still too afraid to ask.

“Is there more to drink?”

“Yeah, in the kitchen… come on.”

Everything that happened afterwards became a blur of colors and muffled noises. Almost like going under anesthesia in the hospital, you couldn’t really remember what went on until something triggered it. And from then on you’d spend your time wondering if it was real or not, trying so hard to distinguish a vivid dream from a drugged reality.

One thing happened to stand out. The single thing you could remember.

Not so many hours later, bottles of liquor had been spread across the floor and the lights turned off. The music that once blared and annoyed the neighbors was turned down now, a much softer volume. Melodic hums came from your lips as Steve ranted about Nancy. The party, it was all because of the stupid party.

“— and, I mean, I apologized. Me. Steve fucking Harrington.”

After what seemed like four rounds too many, his speech was slurred.

Steve buried his face in his hands.“I don’t know what I did wrong…”

“You didn’t do any-anything wrong, man. Nancy just... has a stick up her ass, nothing new.” You assured him with a soft shove to the shoulder.

Your eyes met for a brief moment, his hands sliding down the sides of his face. A pitiful laugh found its way from his throat, soon after turning into something far more maniacal. Something about the situation was funny to you as well.

But not what you had said about Nancy, no. What made you laugh was the look on this idiot’s face, perfectly illuminated by the neighbor’s porch lights. How he slid down deeper onto your floor, ribs aching from giggling too hard. Though he was drunk, the smile plastered on his face was genuine.

Two separate roars were only extinguished after a few minutes, but at the time it felt like hours. You attempted to regain your composure but it was hard when his face was right next to yours. Once perfect brown hair was now askew, the result of the perfect night in. Eyes in the color to match brimmed with tears from laughing, something he felt like he hadn’t done in a while. Nearly perfect skin and perfect lips almost begging for some action; it was too amazing.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you wanted to make out with me…”

It took a minute for his words to sink in. Even in the dark he could see the red flush rise to your cheeks. You swallowed a bit, hand rising to comb through (h/c) locks anxiously. Harsh shadows covered your (s/c) face but even then Steve could still tell you were biting your lip.

It seemed he had his answer.

“Oh,”

“Yeah, oh,” you mirrored.

Everything happened what felt like hours later, but at the same time, all at once. Your bodies had been forced together, the taste of long forgotten cheap wine playing on your tongues. His hands reached up to tangle gently in your hair, all while yours gripped desperately at the lapels of his denim jacket.

The kiss was soft and messy, but whether it was the alcohol’s fault or the fact he was nervous was anybody’s guess. For whatever reason, Steve expected it to feel different but it didn’t. The kiss was just that; a kiss. Not a kiss with a boy, just a kiss.

Clumsily, he straddled your lap to get a better angle. It still felt the same. The time had come to an end, your lungs begging for air, forcing the two of you to pull back. His shoulders heaved, the room only being filled now with the slight sound of you both panting.

(E/c) hues opened to take in the view. Steve Harrington straddling your lap, breathless, disheveled, only being lit by the light that came through the window. The grip you had on his jacket slowly loosened, only to be stopped by his hand on yours. Red lipstick that once adorned your lips was now shared. The Cure that played in the background had finally come to a complete stop. But the gaze Steve had on your lips didn’t, especially when he began to lean in again.

“Don’t tell Nancy,”

#stranger things #steve harrington #x male reader #steve harrington x male reader #stranger things x male reader #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #jaws writes

[twinsimskeletons]

Sim Traits Game

Imagine, if you were a Sim, what 6 traits and a life-time wish would you have? Feel free to tag 5-10 (or even more!) fellow simmers to keep this community lively.

I was tagged by both @missy-hissy and @thesimperiuscurse. Thank you both! Mwah! 

1. Vegetarian. Easy first one. Became veggie as a way to make my vegetarian older sister play with me at about 8 years of age (if you don’t play barbies with me I’ll eat meat again!) and it worked for long enough that I just... never went back.

2. Eco-friendly. Gotta be, my entire career is centred around the environment and building connections with nature. 

3. Friendly. I seem to like far more people than my co-workers. Are they just judgy? Possibly (and I love them). Either way my goal in life is that everyone who interacts with me has a better hour/day/life because of it. I don’t always succeed, lmao.

4. Frugal. For sure. I hate spending money. The most expensive thing in my house was like 250 quid and it’s my fucking computer (on offer, but still). I put up with a damn camping chair as my desk chair for about 7 months after moving in. I wrestled with myself for buying a £20 freezer the other week. It’s hell. Why am I like this. I still need to figure out what I’m doing about windows 7 losing support in Jan (by then the UK may have imploded tho).

5. Good. I feel like this is blowing my own horn a bit but it goes along with 3. I also try to be a thoughtful consumer when I can afford to, volunteer in my local community, all that jazz. I’m not sure how I get the energy. I know I’m pretentious. I’m sorry.

6. Loves the Outdoors! gimmie them trees

LTW: The Cat herder? JK. Professional Author or Renaissance sim for sure. 

Tagging @igglemouse @belasims @ninjaofthepurplethings @simatrix @ktarsims @acquiresimoleons @ice-creamforbreakfast @dresdendarlin @xldkx I know for sure that some of you must have done this already and I’m blanking so sorry about that! 

#we spent the entire afternoon talking about the election #thinking of making it a drinking party #take a shot each time the tories or brexit party get a seat #hopefully you'll be dead by the end of the night #nonsims #saviorhide #meme thingy

[lesamis]

Please tell us about owen wilde and yourself!!!

happily, anon! i’m titling this over-long response “Literary Gay Crushes On Keats: The Wilde & Owen Feature”. 

wilde’s writing on keats is stunning. keats plays something of an odd role in gay literary iconography among english writers: he’s an object of desire as much as of identification; his appearance, the sensuality of his poetry, and his perpetually unfulfilled sexuality all provide obvious reasons for this. but wilde’s affection for keats was intensely personal. he writes that he loves keats, that much is easily said, but the list of attributes he provides is detailed, generous, and a little bit quirky. he even mentions the cat anecdote. 

differently put, wilde admires keats’s poetry in a literary sense, as his open appreciation of beauty fits right into the aesthetic movement, but he also sees it as an expression of youthful genius and sensual tenderness that resonates with him on a more personal level. he ascribes genuine beauty to keats himself, his character, his body. he was approached by keats’s niece, emma speed, when he toured america, and through her acquired access to some of keats’s manuscripts. thanking her, he writes: 

[…] now I am half enamoured of the paper that touched his hand, and the ink that did his bidding, grown fond of the sweet comeliness of his charactery, for since my boyhood I have loved none better than your marvellous kinsman, that godlike boy, the real Adonis of our age, who knew the silver-footed messages of the moon, and the secret of the morning, who heard in Hyperion’s vale the large utterance of the early gods, and from the beechen plot the light-winged Dryad, who saw Madeline at the painted window, and Lamia in the house at Corinth, and Endymion ankle-deep in lilies of the vale, who drubbed the butcher’s boy for being a bully, and drank confusion to Newton for having analysed the rainbow. In my heaven he walks eternally with Shakespeare and the Greeks, and it may be that some day he will lift “his hymenaeal curls from out his amber gleaming wine, | With ambrosial lips will kiss my forehead, clasp the hand of noble love in mine.”

Again I thank you for this dear memory of the man I love, and thank you also for the sweet and gracious words in which you give it to me: it were strange in truth if one in whose veins flows the same blood as quickened into song that young priest of beauty, were not with me in this great renaissance of art which Keats indeed would have so much loved, and of which he, above all others, is the seed.

he also wrote two sonnets, the grave of keats and on the sale by auction of keats’s love letters, as well as this essay in his memory. 

owen finds it similarly easy to identify with keats, but, i think, for different reasons. their lives were strangely parallel; they were born a century apart in the respective 90s of their age (keats 1795, owen 1893), died young, suffered much, and left remarkable literary legacies. keats’s influence is extremely obvious in owen’s earliest poems, some of which are literally about keats, like written in a wood, september 1910 (“Yet shall I see fair Keats, and hear his lyre”), or this sonnet. 

owen admired keats’s style and agreed with his philosophy, but keats was also an object of hero-worship and affection that translated directly to owen’s later love for sassoon. he writes to his mother about the strangeness of his own love for keats, as “to be in love with a youth and a dead-un is perhaps sillier than with a real, live maid”. in fact, if you read owen’s letters from this time and have also read keats’s from when he was a similar age, it’s really difficult not to get emotional about how similar they are in tone. owen was trying to trace keats’s path through england, seeking out locations where keats stayed in hampstead and teignmouth, in what he describes as a “pilgrimage”. keats did exactly the same in the footsteps of his own literary heroes a century earlier.

all this, then, is wrapped up in owen’s most famous letter to sassoon:

I held you as Keats + Christ + Elijah + my Colonel + my father-confessor + Amenophis IV in profile.          What’s that mathematically?          In effect it is this: that I love you, dispassionately, so much, so very much, dear Fellow, that the blasting little smile you wear on reading this can’t hurt me in the least.

as opposed to wilde, to whom keats seems to have offered above all else aesthetic inspiration, i think to owen, keats was a source of comfort and security. this is why he recognises him in sassoon, who “fixed” his life: keats appears to have been something of a home to owen, a point of orientation, recognition, and safety. to which i can only say, from the bottom of my heart; well, fuck. 

(my own gay crush on keats, while utterly insignificant and also embarrassing, is still kind of a product of this same tradition: one that transfigures keats and has been doing so since shelley wrote adonais. keats had people who loved him dearly when he was alive; everything that came after is as much imagined as real. loving keats, as we do, after his death, is far more meaningful for each person who loves him than it could ever be for keats’s memory.) 

#yknow all those criticism youtubers who make vids abt parasocial relationships? it's that but gay and literary #anyway thank you anon! i'm so unbelievably bored without a classroom to channel this in #shouting into the void and also at you specifically about keats is a wonderful outlet #asks #anon #john keats #wilfred owen #oscar wilde #lilli talks #romanticism chats

[alarawriting]

2019 Inktober 29: Injured

Nightmare Before Christmas extension!

It began when you were 10. You were over Lisa’s house for her birthday, and she received a doll as a gift from her grandparents. Lisa was not known for her graciousness. “Euw! This doll is so creepy!” she complained, pushing it away from herself.

“Let me see,” you said, and Lisa gave you the creepy doll, which in your opinion wasn’t creepy at all. It was a blonde little girl with very large eyes, mouth partially open and visible teeth, rosy cheeks and pale skin.

“That doll is vintage,” Lisa’s grandmother complained. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong is that this doll is ugly and creepy and weird and I don’t want it!”

“I do,” you said. “I think she’s pretty.”

“Well, then,” Lisa’s grandmother said, “Courtney can have the doll.” She smiles benevolently on you. “Go on, dear. You can keep the doll.”

You smiled graciously. “Thank you!” you said, knowing Lisa had just angered her parents and grandparents by being so ungrateful. You wanted to make them feel better. “I know Lisa just gets weirded out by dolls sometimes. She didn’t mean to be rude.”

From Lisa’s glowering expression, it was obvious that she had meant to be rude, but you’d given her an out and now that her initial reaction was past and she knew she didn’t have to keep the doll, it seemed like she’d realized the tactical error she’d made. “I’m sorry, Grandma.  Courtney’s right, I kinda get scared of dolls sometimes.”

“Well, what a stupid thing to be afraid of,” Lisa’s grandmother said, but she was plainly somewhat mollified. “Here. Since you apologized, I’ll give you some money for your birthday.” She fished a five dollar bill out of her wallet. “That doll was worth a lot more than this, but I suppose this is what you’d rather have.”

“Thank you, Grandma!” Lisa said, and the birthday party went on as scheduled.

The doll was quite old, so she needed an old-fashioned name, but one that sounded nice. “Her name is Betty,” you told Lisa’s grandmother later. “She’s really pretty. I’m sorry Lisa was so mean about it.”

“I am too. That child can be so ungrateful sometimes.”

“I’ve been telling Betty that Lisa didn’t mean to be so mean, she just had a bad reaction because she’s scared of dolls. Betty understands, but she’s glad she’s going home with me instead. Dolls don’t like to live with girls who don’t like them.”

“You understand,” Lisa’s grandmother said, nodding. “Dolls have feelings too. They deserve to be with girls who’ll love them.”

“Did you have a doll who looked like this when you were young?"

Her eyes welled with unshed tears. “I did. I lost her when we moved. I’ve been checking antique stores and thrift stores for years, hoping to find her.”

“What was yours named?”

“Eleanor. I named her for a queen, Eleanor of Acquitaine. Have you heard of her?”

You said no, so Lisa’s grandmother – whose actual name was Mrs. Shapiro – talked your head off about kings and queens of England for half an hour before you got a chance to go play.

***

Once you were home, headed up the stairs to your room, Betty complained. “Lisa’s ugly. And mean.”

“She didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. She’s actually a very nice person. She just… is scared of dolls.” You shifted Betty in your arms so instead of lying in them like a baby, she was facing outward, her back against your chest and your arm around her middle, so she could see the others. When you opened the door, you gestured at your other dolls, the ones on your bookshelves and on your dresser. “Hello, everyone! This is Betty!”

“Hi, Betty!” the dolls chorused.

“She’s the newest addition to our family, so I was thinking we could have a tea party to welcome her.”

“Great idea!” Mandy cheered.

So you got out the tea set, and arranged all the dolls on the floor, and the dolls who didn’t get tea cups because your tea set wasn’t that big, you gave mugs or glasses from your play kitchen, and you put plastic desserts from the toy kitchen on everyone’s plates.

“This is delicious,” Kyla said. “Did you make it yourself?”

You laughed. “Oh, no, no, it’s store bought! I’m a terrible cook.”

“You got that right,” Veronica, who was sometimes kind of a jerk, said.

“Oh, oh, wow! Veronica, you’ve got to be best friends with the new girl!” Eric said. He had been a girl when you got him, but you thought it was unfair to have nothing but girl dolls, so you hacked off all his hair and put clothes on him from a GI Joe you found in the mud near the playground, although they didn’t really fit. “Betty and Veronica! Like the Archie comics!”

“Archie is stupid,” Veronica said, but mellowed a bit. “But it’s very nice to meet you, Betty.”

“We’re going to be great friends, I just know it!” Mandy said.

Betty started to almost-cry the way Mrs. Shapiro had. “You guys,” she said. “This has been the best day of my life.”

***

One day Mrs. Shapiro brought you six more dolls while you’re over Lisa’s house. They were all vintage, and they were all damaged, from the one whose hair was falling off to the one with one eye that wouldn’t open to the one with a cloudy white film on her eyes. “Courtney, would you be interested in these?”

“Were they yours?”

She nodded. “I think they deserve to go with a girl who will play with them. I was going to give them to Lisa, but…”

“Yeah, Lisa won’t want them. But I love them! What are their names?”

Mrs. Shapiro said some of the names and visibly struggled to remember the others. You asked her, “Why don’t you play with them anymore?”

“Well, I’m a grown woman. Grown-up women don’t play with dolls.”

“But you could if you wanted to.”

“I suppose I could, but it would be a little embarrassing.” She chuckled.

“I could bring over my tea set and some dolls and you could play dolls with me. I want to know your dolls’ personalities. It’d be rude to tell them to be completely different people just because someone new owns them.”

“I never thought of it that way.”

In the end, you went over Mrs. Shapiro’s house yourself for the tea party, which Lisa thought was weird but Lisa could think whatever she wanted. Mrs. Shapiro put out a real-life tea set and filled the cups with Kool-aid, which was more verisimilitude than you’d ever managed. During the tea party she did voices for all the dolls, Hortensia who couldn’t keep her eye open and Emily who was losing her hair and Birdie who was going blind and Renee who had no clothes, just a washcloth around her body with safety pins holding it in place and Michelle who had one shoe and Lauren who kept falling over when she was put in a sitting position. You were very grateful; it really helped to know how the dolls sounded, their voices and personalities as well as their names.

And when you saw that now you had six dolls who were injured or lacking in some way, you realized what you wanted to do.

You went to Girl Scouts to learn to sew, because Mrs. Shapiro claimed to be terrible at it and wouldn’t teach you, and your own grandma worked and didn’t have time. You told the librarian about your quest, and she ordered you a book from another library about repairing dolls. It was intended for adults, and you were nine, but you used a dictionary and struggled through it because you needed to know. Your dad suggested that rubbing alcohol on a q-tip might help Birdie’s eyes. Birdie was so very grateful to you for restoring her sight.

After that, your parents would give you thrift store dolls, broken-down dolls who needed love and care as much as the pretty new dolls at the toy stores, for every birthday and Christmas, because you told them emphatically that that was what you wanted. “No one loves the ugly dolls or the broken dolls or the creepy dolls. They need someone to take care of them. They need love.”

And you had so much love to give.

***

Twenty years later you learned the hard way that a shop that fixes dolls doesn’t make any money. You branched into selling high-end, high-quality toys, as well as continuing to collect and fix up vintage dolls. You sewed beautiful new clothes for them and re-glued their hair and re-attached their arms and legs. You carefully removed their eyes and polished them, attached new weights to the eyelids to enable them to open and close, and sometimes heated and re-shaped the eyes in hot water so they would fit properly in their sockets again.

You sold the dolls to any child, or any adult buying for a child, who wanted one and was willing to pay your prices, which weren’t cheap after you’d done so much restoration work. But when the day was over and you’d done the receipts and closed the books and swept the shop and locked up, you took the dolls upstairs to your living space with you, and you played with them, because dolls deserved to be played with.

Men who found out about this hobby of yours found it weird and unpleasant, so none of your relationships lasted more than a few dates. You weren’t close enough to any of your friends for them to find out. You had pen pals, fellow doll aficionados, all over the world, but you wouldn’t admit even to them that you played with your dolls. By this time you had so many that you couldn’t possibly play with them all every night, which was part of the reason you’d been willing to part with some of them back when you’d opened the store. But you did your best to make sure they were going to good homes.

***

Forty years later the internet had nearly destroyed you, and then saved you.

It became so easy to buy vintage dolls, you overbought. You took on employees to help you repair them, but they didn’t love the dolls like you did, so they didn’t stay your employees. Then people stopped buying from the store because it was so easy to get even vintage toys online, at much better prices than you could afford to sell at. You sold through online channels yourself, but it wasn’t enough.

You expanded your offerings to hand-crafted children’s furniture and toys, working with artisans you met at a Renaissance faire or online, reselling their work. And you moved the doll repair business online. It turned out that the number of people willing to send their beloved childhood friend to a total stranger through the mail and pay a lot of money to have her restored was much higher than you’d guessed. You picked up more employees, this time to run the store so that you could work full-time on doll repair.

Fifteen years ago you’d gotten a cat, but she died of old age, and you didn’t replace her. Your doll friends weren’t immortal – you’d had porcelain-headed dolls shatter, you’d had to reluctantly tell heartbroken women that their childhood toy had been mauled too heavily by a dog to be saved – but when age damaged them, it could be fixed. They weren’t doomed to die like living creatures were.

You made sure to make time to play with the dolls every night, no matter how busy you got. Sometimes you hardly had time to do anything but choose a lucky few, dress them in nightgowns and caps for their hair, and take them to bed with you, but you always did at least that.

***

And then there was the day you heard a violent crash downstairs.

You were a woman living alone. You tried not to live in fear, but you knew you were vulnerable. The sound terrified you, so you called the police, and stayed upstairs behind your bolted bedroom door with two or three of your favorite dolls reassuring you, until the cops arrived.

They called you downstairs to see what you knew.

The man had had duct tape on him, and rope, and a knife. You were somewhat shocked that anyone would target you for such a thing, at your age, but the cops tell you that it was probably your age that drew the guy’s attention. He must have assumed you couldn’t defend yourself.

You could not explain why he was lying dead in a giant pile of dolls, his eyes punctured, his throat bruised, his neck broken. You hadn’t left your room. It was more than obvious that a small middle-aged woman couldn’t have done the kind of damage to the dead man that had killed him; the best anyone could guess was that he’d tripped over a rack of dolls and fallen on them so hard that hard plastic hands had jabbed his eyes out and then he’d broken his neck in the fall. But you knew better. The cops couldn’t possibly understand, but you did.

“Thank you,” you said to all the dolls, the creepy dolls you hadn’t yet repaired and the ones that you had and yet children still called them creepy, the pretty vintage dolls and the modern dolls that had needed repair. “Thank you,” you said, weeping over the body of a porcelain doll that had broken, but she was the only casualty. Others had damaged hands and some had crushed plastic bodies and quite a lot of them had their clothes ruined by blood, but those were all things you could repair. “Thank you all so much. You saved me.”

“You’re our mother,” one of the dolls said.

“You saved me,” another doll, a repaired doll, said.

“We love you. We’ll never let anyone hurt you.”

You gathered your precious, precious dolls to you and hugged them, and cried. Oh, your dollies, all your beautiful dollies. You’d saved their lives, and now they had returned the favor.

#tw: implied rape threat #inktober 2019 #creepy dolls need love too

[the-irish-mayhem]

Happy Fosterson Week Day 2: Outside POV! This fic stemmed from my love of fake academia, but also my absolute desire to never write an academic paper ever again. So I found a bit of a middle ground. Fair warning: Both Jane and Thor have passed away in this. But never fear, their life together was long and happy.

A generation later, a budding social scientist tries to figure out Jane and Thor.

Read on AO3.

Legacy.

Post Thread Created: 1/23/01 Originally Posted: 1/23/01 Post Edited: 10/30/04

Edit 10/30/04: WOW, I did not anticipate that this post series would blow up the way it did! Thank you to all who shared this and supported me in this journey, and if you’re wondering, yes, my book is now out! You can get your copy of The Dynasty That Never Was: A Biography at your local retailer, the Bionic Press cloudstore, or at your local library.

Just a little bit of context: this was very early in my thesis writing process, back when Jane and Thor were only planned to encompass a single chapter of my book (ha!) and I was planning on writing a straight cultural analysis rather than the cultural analysis-slash-biography it became.

Okay, now on with the original post!

Good morning, fellow New Asgard Anthropologists. For any newcomers, my name is (future Dr.) Melanie LaComb, and the purpose of this blog has been to share my research on a little more of a ground level, record my process of writing my thesis, and talk/write through some problems and put them up for community collaboration. It’s also nice to be able to shed the academic discourse for just a few minutes and write informally. So much freedom! So many exclamations and I statements! Anyway, I’m writing this new post to talk my way through a bit of a new thorn in my research. The late Thor Odinson and Jane Foster.

A lot of academics have kind of scoffed at this problem of mine—they were two extremely famous individuals! Integral to so many galactically significant events! Of course there is absolute mega loads of information on them! There must be dozens of biographies and at least two definitive autobiographies for beings of such impressive historical stature!

This may shock you, but NO there actually isn’t. Or, I suppose in some ways there is but not in the ways that would be most useful for me. For Odinson, who grew up on Old Asgard, the destruction of the planet meant the destruction of many records kept from his years before the Greatest War Against Thanos. His years afterwards are better trackable, but hardly centralized and hardly the more personalized records I am (now trying to get at. Foster, known on Midgard as Dr. Jane Foster and colloquially throughout the galaxy as “Jane the Thinker” or “Jane the Brilliant,” is surprisingly easier to get a handle on. Her fame wasn’t contingent upon her marital status, and she was well-known in scientific circles even before the first battle of the War in the year 2012.

So the root of my problem is this: fitting this pair into my New Asgard diaspora research. Because they are….. how do I say this…. not fitting? With my methodology? (I went to the school of redundancy school, but F*ck I’ve been writing and writing and writing for like 8 hours today already and I’m not changing it so THERE.)

So most of my research deals with the formation of a New Asgardian identity, and it relies heavily upon the shared cultural experiences of the Dark Elf Invasion of Old Asgard and the death of Queen Frigga (an aside, but one of my classmates, Korla Majer, wrote a really stellar article on why the Dark Elf invasion should be included as one of the major battles of the Greatest War, and how the dismissal of the event by most historians actively hurts our understanding of galactic politics at the time and I absolutely 10/10 would recommend you go read it after you finish this blog post) as well as the battle for and destruction of New Asgard. For beings so long lived as us, Asgardians have proven that we can make our memories as short as we need to, and those two events seemed to create the largest basis for the new cultural identity forged on Earth. (For some obvious reasons, namely being the events that led to the planet being destroyed and necessitating the move to Midgard, but ANYWAY.)

But I can’t really deny Jane and Thor’s place in the New Asgardian identity because their effect on the masses is well-documented. There are libraries full of memes, old paper magazines with paparazzi photos paired with barely-real stories that say a lot more about the readership than they do the subjects, even some old FanFiction that I was able to dig up that is in some ways more helpful than all the academia from that time period combined XD

In my roundabout way, the problem I’m trying to sort through is this: HOW do I tackle the Jane/Thor chapter?

Because in my original outlining of my thesis, I had planned on their chapter being a quick summation of how they met just before the Greatest War’s beginning, courted through the course of it, and married at its conclusion. Then, I’d give some context on their influence on galactic politics (because despite what some people erroneously think, they actually were not the monarchs of New Asgard. They remained advisors only after Thor abdicated the throne and named Brunnhilde [of house Dragonfang, an extremely old and well-respected Old Asgardian family] his successor. There was the five year gap of the Blip where Thor was officially King, but it was hardly a politically significant time as for much of this period Thor was gone from New Asgard), how some political maneuvers affected the general New Asgardian populace, and then move back to the cultural study portion of things. But the more sources I gather about them, the more I think this chapter might need to be extended, or made into some… sub point of my main thesis.

Because while I said earlier that information on them is hard to find (because it is!!! You try making document requests to 17 different universities on 15 different planets!!!! Alfheim literally delivered what I asked for in a light spectrum file format!!!!!!!! Like WHAT!!!!!! AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS????? HOW DO I CONVERT THIS INTO A PDF OR EVEN JUST MAKE IT COMPATIBLE WITH HOLOREADERS) it’s not always the quantity that’s the issue, it’s the content. I found myself longing to know more about who these people were and why they did the things they did. I’ve always found that I've done my best research when I follow my gut feelings, and research things that I’m passionate about. New Asgardian diaspora culture? I’m living it, baby! I’m very interested because my generation is the first generation to have never set foot on Asgard, and that’s something worth exploring!

And now here I am weirdly fascinated by an almost-king whose magical powers are pretty legendary who was banished and fell in love with a woman (who was 100% human at the time, by the way) whose scientific theories were so advanced that her own people thought she was a bit of a kook until all of her theories started getting proven right. From a non-academic perspective, that sounds like a freaking romance novel or epic movie or something. (Which, by the way, it was! There were at least 6 separate pieces of media [film, novel, television show] that were based on their story that I can find on record.) So on a personal level, here I am wondering why two people in the past got married in spite of wildly different life circumstances/why one of them abdicated a throne that was his birthright, and on an academic level A) trying to figure out how to fit this weird fascination into my thesis B) how did these two political and cultural figures shape the cultural landscape C) was their effect on the cultural landscape more or less significant than the two events which have been taking the most of my focus for the last year? D) how productive is it to even ask the question of more or less significance?

*screaming*

A few people have asked me if I should just switch my track to talk about how they affected Brunnhilde’s rule over New Asgard (which, in case you missed previous posts, Brunnhilde is a huge part of my current thesis as she essentially presided over what I’m terming “The New Asgardian Cultural Renaissance” and was absolutely critical to how things were shaped.) I’m hesitant to do this because this has actually already been done. I’ll stick JSTOR links in the endnotes, but Dr. Hamel Radley literally wrote this. “A King For the Ages: Brunnhilde’s First Three Decades.” Also, Dr. Leslie Storn’s “A King’s Court: Brunnhilde’s Advisory Council.” AND Dr. Jorseph Naulty’s “King Brunnhilde’s Surprising Advisory Council: Steady Hands, Scientists, Military Minds, and Galactic Politicking.” Look, there’s a LOT on Brunnhilde’s rule, and a LOT written on her advisory council. She was the ruling monarch, so it’s pretty par for the course.

But for how politically and culturally significant they seemed to be, there’s not really much specifically on Jane and Thor. Their cultural influences are given lip-service, and that’s it. (Again, Jane has been scientifically significant in a way no one has achieved since Albert Einstein, so in that way she’s more famous than her husband, but scientific notoriety isn’t the same as recognizing the fullness of her cultural contributions.)

I brought this stuff up to my advisor, and she said to keep pulling this thread because I’m on to something here, I just need to figure out what.

So my next research goal is to reach out to their descendents. They have a few children and grandchildren living, and hopefully at least one of them is willing to speak to me about them as people so I can get that portion of things nailed down before I go insane.

My almost-insanity probably bled into this post a little bit because it’s redundant as heck and you can bet your bum I am not spell-checking or proofreading. I need a break from that garbage. The life of a doctoral student continues.

Here’s to pulling the thread. Hopefully something useful unravels.

-(Future Dr.) Melanie LaComb

Reply posted by: Winsome34, 1/23/01 08:23

Melanie--this is a super interesting track, and your advisor was absolutely right when they said to follow it. I think it would be really interesting to read a sort of half-biography, half-cultural analysis piece. Would be really unique, and I’m sure any doctoral committee would find it an engaging topic.

Not sure if you’ve tried the Avengers Museum and Historical Library yet, but that might be a good place to go for some more primary sources, since Thor was a founding member and Jane was closely tied to them throughout their life. They have a really solid amazing librarians there who know the stacks backwards and forwards. I relied heavily on them when I was researching my last paper about racism against superheroes of color in the early 21st century.

Reply posted by: KorlaMajer, 1/23/01 10:22

Thanks for the shoutout boo ;) Your thesis is gonna be amazing!

ALSO: I have a light spectrum file converter from my dad. He does a ton of business with Alfheim and they are NOTORIOUS for sending incompatible LSFs.

Reply posted by: Chloe Durbin, 2/2/01 20:40

Hey! My mom is actually really tight with Thor and Jane’s oldest daughter Valkyrie. I think they knew each other from school or something back in the day, but she’s really awesome and basically my aunt, so if you need an intro or a number to call, I’ve got you! Just shoot me an email [email protected]. She’s really approachable if you don’t mind walking up to a lady who is literally 6’8” and looks like she literally HAS killed a man with her bare hands. But super nice though!

Universal Reply posted by: Blogmaster, 5/3/01 06:27

Thank you everyone for the tips! It’s going to help so much! The Avengers Library has actually been majorly helpful (I never even thought to look there, honestly!) and Valkyrie has agreed to sit down to an interview (of sorts) so everything is seriously looking up. And THE LSF CONVERTER WORKED LIKE A CHARM.

#fostersonweek #fostersonweek2019 #fosterson week #2019 day 2 #fic

[zoidham]

F!!RE - Devoted to Black Fashion & Lifestyle

ARTicle One:

Introduction. 

On Black Masculinity in Fashion

“Masculinity is not measured by your bicep size or sexual prowess but is a quality that is characterized by being affectionate, sincere, and responsible.” - Juwanza Kunjufu 

Hey Now kinfolk, I am Zoid Hæm, and in these personal letters I will be reflecting on the Black Lifestyle as it pertains to #Fashion, #Soul, and #Art. I have chosen the name F!!RE for this experience to pay homage to the young black artists of the Harlem Renaissance who shocked the world with a scathing peek into the mind of young and free black folks with their one issue magazine simply called Fire!!.(Source): https://bit.ly/2GwIIY0

Blackness, in its constant evolution is of my greatest interest, for as Arthur Jafa (@anamibia) said in his interview for I-D magazine with Virgil Abloh “…blackness isn’t just relevant to black people. It’s an ontological formation thats seeking to understand the world. It’s about the possibility for a different way to occupy earth, to exist in it. (Source): https://bit.ly/2m3ygzn

So here I sit at this cross section of fashion and soul, asking myself what does my external experience tell me about my inner world? And since the former spews out of the latter I see a fluid evolution spiraling up, beckoning at the fringe of our reality like an avant-garde symbol, hated and misunderstood like all mysteries shrouded in blackness. Excitement billows out of me, as my existence becomes a thorough definition of the contradictions in my black consciousness; like vines, unconfined by the square bricks of this society, I sprawl out, creating branches, bridges, and underground railroads, breaking out of learned labels and ushering a new wave. A wave filled with bubbles that when they touch, combine and crash on this countries shores of Thought, making us all the more unique and free.

“Cultivate your Uniqueness.” 

Free Hugs and Painted Nails:

Today's letter focuses in on black masculinity through the lens of fashion. It must have been the summer of 2011 when I sported boastful yet crude painted nails, and a small white button that said “Free Hugs". My body type was bulky, aggressive, and shouted, “Angry black man!" I had just finished my career in football, thankfully, and found myself hustling in the streets of New York City, as green as a rose stem among the grey concrete jungle, who's edifices and faces made me feel small, innocent, and utterly naive. 

Yet in this place I began to shift my image, first my thoughts, by asking any and all types why they are who they are. Mind you as the son of two preachers who never went to a house party or drank till college, even with my years at university there was still so much I didn’t know; but what I found is that when I approached folk they were always very guarded and unsure. I always blamed racist propaganda for their hesitancy but then I began to think more about what my image was saying to them. To them and this society my look gave off certain triggers in them, and by them I mean all types from old, young, white, black, brown, men, women, LGBTQ, CEO, or homeless. Few if any paid me any mind, or quickly gave glance and turned the other way. 

Haha a hilarious anecdote that actually made me change my entire “costume” was that one day, walking out by Central Park I saw the actor Michael Cera! Yep, Mr. Superbad himself, I was such a big fan I blurted out as we came close to each other “Holy crap! It’s Michael Cera!” Haha and true to form, with a hilarious face and mannerisms he looked up, eyes widened, and immediately turned around, and scampered the opposite direction down the street. I was a little hurt and shocked, but still laughed. It was at this point I was like YO! What do they see?

I went home, a 6 floor walk up in Chinatown, and looked in the mirror and began to take some notes. Broad chest, big beard, long locs, rather run-of-the-mill black man, how boring! I knew inside me was something that defied all definition, that I was a spirit teeming with affection and love for my fellow humans and wanted to be able to sit and express with them. But what I typically was receiving was the energy of dismissal and guardedness. I had known this well from black women at university who used me as a whipping boy to take their frustrations out on all black men, while I received, in screaming opposition from white women, so much attention it felt disingenuous, for them any n!gga would do; but now this was pervasive… I realized that my presence scared people, and that they weren’t actually seeing the REAL me.

I paced in my small apartment unit, thumbing a small button in the jacket I just bought, mentally drawing up how I wanted to present myself. “Alright first we need to lose this weight, so we can fit into all these cool clothes, but also fit better in these rooms of artists and intellects, and then lets keep the beard and hair nappy, edge is important, but lets dress in chic cheap fashion, cuz we are super broke and are only going to be able to afford the thrift store…” As I was thinking I pulled out the button from my pocket and read what it said “Free Hugs” almost unconsciously I pinned it to my jacket and didn’t think much of it.

The next day was Friday and I typically made my way to the museums since they were free. I bought a bottle of FireFly ice tea vodka and headed to my friends pad down by wall street so we all could get faded and go see some art. As I was walking down the street, I saw faces smiling at me, and so I smiled back, not used to New Yorkers showing any emotion besides anger I was a little surprised but kept pushing. After hopping off the train, I turned the corner and a short portly jewish women threw  her arms up and said “Yes I need one today!” And gave me a big long hug. I just stood there shocked by this stranger squeezing me, like I was her grandson, but before the hug was over I retuned the energy. She smiled and walked on by. As she left I looked at my reflection in one of the wall street buildings and saw that I still had the “Free Hugs” button on my jacket, and smiled thinking, how bout that! A free hug trumps propaganda, age, fear, race, etc.  all they needed was the permission to show affection. 

Fast foward to half the bottle gone, and a small loft full of young, gifted and black artist, all dancing and singing to a Stevie Wonder record. I had painted a haggard green sweat shirt with the word Free Hugs in big red letters and donned it as I joined the harmonious voices that filled the room with the joy of a Friday afternoon. I went over to the kitchen to fill my glass, when I realized I had gotten some paint on my nails, and began to peel it off when my crush at that time, a stunning orange afro having queen said, "Naw leave it! In fact here!” She came over with some nail polish and painted quick little designs on my nails in green, red, and yellow. My first reaction was wait I can’t wear nail polish, but when I looked at my hands I became enamored, my how strange and unique, these dainty hands on a Rasta brute! This was just the right amount of contradiction and juxtaposition of strength and vulnerability I was looking for. Leave it to black women to bring a dream to reality.

And thats exactly what happened, when we hit the streets in that Friday sunset, New York finally saw me, and opened like the flowers in sunlight on the corner of Strawberry Fields. Over the next few months, my body slimmed, my smile grew, my nails where chipped and covered with color haphazardly, and hugs clung to my body like the tight fitting cheap fashion I found. But most importantly my thoughts began to change, because I was engaging with more people from all walks of life. I ask myself to this day, did the fashion open them up or me up? 

Fashion is metaphor touted as a mask, there to conceal or reveal our inner truth, and for me I found a unique edge to walk, one where I hold space with masculinity that only knows mixtape lyrics and football, as well as a space that spoke of Basquiat’s and Warhol’s, the fickleness of love in any gender or sexuality and the need for soul and romance. I am still the minority in most rooms I walk into, typically they don't know what to think of me, I hear little conversations in the corner, ”He must be gay, or bi, no no look he’s with ball players and gangsters, naw naw he has lots of girlfriends, yes yes hunny he can get it, but he curbed all of us and I’m fine so wats the deal, oh he’s different.”

Different… little do they know I’m just like them, expressing all that I am. Removing the labels and images and thoughts that society has forced upon me, left me blank a slate to be creative. Still I have much more to remove and redefine in this ocean of blackness that is my being. One can be masculine in a dress, one can be feminine in baggy jeans, lessen we forget #STONEWALL and what those activists fought for, the freedom of image. Culturally and generational things shift, the meaning we put behind garments and fabric is all made up, just like us; and no one need be ridiculed or shamed for making their fit…fit. So what are you wearing today? In any way, you look good on you.

Posivibes,

hæm

Credits:

Image one by @johnyu.co 

for Westword Artopia 2019  

#f!!re #fashion #blog #zoidham #black masculinity

[caffeineivore]

So yes Spirits again...

I am trying to like, find the plot of this thing. I don’t know if there is one.

A/Z. Prompts used: Blue, melody

**

The building is standard industrial concrete, the sort which could become anything and everything from a distribution warehouse to a dance studio, and is all but empty inside when Zhen unlocks the door.

“My latest acquisition,” he tells her with a wry smile. “It used to house a self-storage company until they got into some trouble with the law. Big sting, lots of contraband of the weapons and drugs variety.” A whimsical smile crosses his mouth. “I bought it because it was cheap, but also because the walls are blue.”

It’s just the sort of fanciful thing he’d say, green-gold eyes gazing deeply into her blue ones as his smile grows, and it’s hard not to be charmed, even though she knows quite well that the charisma is part of his birthright. But she’s never been the sort to give in so easily, and so she raises an eyebrow instead of smiling. “Did you have any particular plan for this building? It could become anything, really. I’m sure Jareth would have a few notions of what to do with it if you asked.”

“He’d probably suggest turning it into something horrifying, like a Target with a Starbucks built inside,” Zhen affects an exaggeratedly scandalized expression. “Perhaps he’d come up with something even more soulless and appalling. He’s a terrifyingly creative fellow.”

Raina can’t quite hold back a giggle at the very idea of Jareth, with his discerning Ælf-kine sensibilities, partaking in anything so plebeian as the design and construction of a Target of all places. “Well. I’m quite sure it’d be a profitable endeavour if you did decide upon that.”

“Undoubtedly, but the headaches wouldn’t be worth it. Mortals are so aggravatingly rude in those types of shops. Especially middle-aged women with coupons and caterwauling offspring.” He blinks his eyes slowly, almost drowsily, the way a fox might upon catching sight of a hare it didn’t want to spook, then throws up both hands, palms outwards. And then, right in front of her eyes, the room begins to fill, furnishings and decor appearing all around them as though conjured under the wand of a stage magician. And yet... Raina takes a half-step back, right into a padded high-top stool the likes of which wouldn’t be out of place at any dim, intimate whiskey bar. She reaches out and feels smooth-worn wood underneath her fingers, and then in her view, a glistening row of bottles appear. Some bluesy melody plays in the background, a smokey rasp of a torch singer’s voice against syncopated drumbeats and the sultry wail of a saxophone. It’s so realistic, so tangible to all the senses that she would never have thought it an illusion had she not just walked into an empty building a few minutes ago.

“Impressive,” she breathes, running her fingers over the wood of the bar. Almost immediately, a squat tumbler of amber-hued single-malt Scotch on the rocks appears in front of her, the icy condensation cold and wet against her fingertips, the rich yet astringent smell of the alcohol pungent on the air. She takes a cautious, tiny sip-- it even tastes like expensive liquor-- and yet there’s something subtly lacking, as though her body doesn’t recognize it as alcohol consumption and cue in the metabolic process of converting the ethanol molecules into acetaldehyde. For all it tastes and looks and smells like Scotch, it has none of the chemical or physiological properties. An illusion, almost flawless, but not quite.

“I don’t drink, not anymore,” Zhen gives her a crooked, self-deprecating grin. “The last time I did, I ended up on a misadventure which ended up with me caught in the business end of an abandoned hunter’s trap in the mountains for a good six months. I was starving and almost feral by the end of that ordeal, by the time I’d finally gotten free. Your colleague actually found me in his backyard. Fed me a cold plate of leftovers. He was perhaps three or four years old, then.”

Raina pauses, and then, in her usual quick fashion, she connects the dots. “I wondered why you acted like you were running into an old friend at Adam’s wedding.” She also knew the bare-bones story about Adam King’s story-- a rough childhood with poor, dysfunctional biological parents which could have ended up as any number of tragic statistics, an alcohol-induced car accident which he miraculously survived, then an auspicious placement with an adoptive family that turned his life around and brought him to the place he was today. ‘It was as though I had a guardian angel who brought me out of that car wreck and into a new world,’ Adam had said to her before. Smiling, she steps away from the hyper-realistic bar and up to Zhen, reaches up with her cool fingers and touches his warm cheek. “You went to bless his marriage. That’s why you started seeing me. So you’d have a reason to be there.”

Slowly, he nods, and with a slow flicker like a set of lights blinking out, the whiskey bar disappears, accoutrement by accoutrement, until it’s just the two of them standing together in an empty warehouse again. Oddly enough, though, the bluesy music continues to play, softer and sweeter now, as though coming from the next room. He dips his head, covers her fingers with his own even as he brushes his lips over her forehead. “I did, I suppose, have ulterior motives when I met you. Not bad ones, but I didn’t just meet you for you. Until... there you were.” His eyes meet hers over the curve of a gentle, ironic smile. “I was captivated, you know. And then, immediately, sad. People live such short, short lives. I knew, if I got close to you, I’d be devastated if you left me. And yet I couldn’t resist. Do you forgive me?”

Raina thinks of her mother, who’d been wooed by a mortal man and married him hundreds of years ago. Her father had been a portrait painter for a Renaissance court, and enjoyed fame and privilege from his talent and the great wealth that his fae wife had brought with her as a dowry. But three times he’d broken his word to her mother, and so she’d left him, taking Raina with her to be raised in the Old Way. Her father had died penniless and broken-hearted, abandoning his prosperous post in court for painting water-scapes, turbulent, murky things as he’d gone from creek to lake to sea, bewailing his fortune and begging forgiveness from a wife who would never return.

“Will you promise never to lie to me, or break your word?” She feels as though she’s standing on a precipice, gazing into the unknown depths. She barely remembers what her father looked like, but she’d inherited his dark hair. She imagines that he must have been handsome, perhaps almost as charming as Zhen, agreeing readily to that which her mother had asked of him in a haze of enchantment.

He kisses her forehead again, then dips his head to kiss her mouth, lips warm and dry against her cool, damp ones. “I won’t make any promises,” his mouth traces the words against hers, feather-light. “I won’t make any promises that I might ultimately break, be it through fate or will.” The cavernous room changes again, filling with rows of well-worn pews. The music changes to something more solemn and grand, pipe-organ rather than saxophone, and the flickering light and faint scent of candles fills the air, though lacking something of the heat. It’s just the sort of back-drop, the appropriate setting, where a man might make his vows. The candlelight forms a halo around the old-gold curls of his hair, and he takes her hand, lays a kiss over the back of each. “I will make you one promise, and one promise only. And that will be to love you for as long as we both shall live.” 

The room is all skillful illusion and the man is all consummate charm, and yet, Raina finds it in herself to believe him. She slides her fingers through the tousled silk of his hair, then skims them over the nape of his neck, reveling a bit at his involuntary shiver as his lips home in on hers. “We may both live for a long time yet.” The words are muffled against his mouth, his skin, and his response is almost lost against her own.

“I stand by my promise.” 

At some point, later, the room shifts again, transforming into what almost looks like a luxurious suite of rooms out of a mansion somewhere. Zhen lifts her off her feet, depositing her onto soft sheets that feel precisely like silk underneath her fingertips. She finds herself laughing, even as he kisses all the skin he can reach, clever fingers tugging at fabric to expose more. “I should have figured you’d bring me here to make love.” 

He doesn’t say anything in response to that. But the bluesy melody starts playing again in the background, a sultry-hot caress of notes in the air with the weight of fingers on bare skin.

#a/z #senshi/shitennou #sailor moon #fanfiction #fanfic

[beeexx]

RULES: simply answer the following 22 q’s and then tag 22 (or however many) people you’d love to get to know more!

tagged by @flying-elliska my evil spawn sister

Name: Rebecka

Nickname: Becka, Bex, Becky

Zodiac sign: Pisces

Height: 1.60 cm...

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor!

Last thing I googled: Homosexual desire in Renaissance writing, for essay research lmao 

Favorite musician: Hmmm, Lady Gaga, Hozier, Lorde, Billie Eilish, I have too many!

Last song I listened to: Bury a Friend by Billie Eilish

Song stuck in my head right now: I want it That Way by The Backstreet Boys, me and my friend sang it LOUD last night ahahaha. 

Followers: Not enough lol

Following: 270

Amount of sleep: Not enough 

Lucky number: 26, don’t know why

What i‘m wearing: sweatpants and chill clothes because ya know I am student I have no routine 

Dream job: Create a swedish or english version of Skam, lol joking. I honestly don’t know, something creative and important, maybe producer or filmmaker, but we will see

Dream trip: PERU!!! Machu Picchu is my absolute dream trip to ever do. And I just want to go around South America!

Favorite food: PIZZA! It is the most versatile food ever, I stan! 

Instrument: I can play piano but have not done it in ages so I probably cannot any more

Languages: Swedish, english, a little french and it has gotten better after Skam France I gotta say, some norwegian and dannish (adding them in to sound cooler). 

Favorite songs: Bury a Friend Billie Eilish, I just love her okay!

Random fact: Errm no idea there probably is none hhahaha

Aesthetic: Books! Libraries, candles, wood I don’t know like cosy homely apartments where I wanna live 

I will tag Bella my fellow troll @iwantmessedup3000

#me #self thing

[the-trees-have-spirits]

In mid-April of 2019, I discovered I’ve been a green witch for my entire life. I found myself wanting to learn as much about this new part of my identity as I possibly could, and to discover what I could do with it. This weekly post is to help with exactly that - to serve as a focus, a single place to compile all my thoughts, my learnings, my findings, my discoveries and realizations.

May 15th, 2019

There’s more here than I would normally write in just one week - this is to catch up on the last month.

What I’ve Tried

I tried aura reading for the very first time on Thursday, on my own hand. Most of it was clear and unreadable, but I did catch tiny glimpses of a deep blue. On my very first attempt!!  

I’m trying to make charging my morning tea a daily habit. It’s not perfected - I often forget to charge it, forget to notice results, and have a hard time focusing on visualizing. Drinking tea - and even being interested in it! - is such a new interest for me too, so there’s still much progress to be made. 

I’m also trying to make thanking the earth and the sky upon my first steps outside a daily habit, but I’m having an even harder time remembering to do that. It’s worth noting though - it was raining pretty hard the first morning I tried. I got to my car and started driving to work - and nearly immediately, the rain stopped. Like, completely. It would have been the kind of rain that makes it hard to see while driving, otherwise. But it was clear for the entire length of my drive. And it picked back up again almost right after I got to the office. That, sent chills down my spine.

I was on the local Renaissance Faire grounds on Saturday for the first time since the season ended last fall, and while there I visited one of my favorite shops for old time’s sake - what I thought was primarily an incense shop, built into a forest thicket. I had no idea that it was actually a witchcraft supply shop, until I walked into it this time knowing what I do now. The walls were crowded with herbs for sale, and loose leaf teas, and mortars and pestals, and essential oils, along with so many different kinds and scents of incense.. I wanted to stay for so much longer, and appreciate everything, maybe ask some questions of the shopkeepers, maybe even buy some things.. but I’m still in the broom closet, and I was with Tyler at the time.

I also discovered the Faire’s tea shop for the very first time, and actually DID buy some tea from that lovely, lovely shop. I also bought a diffuser, so I can play with loose leaf tea right alongside bagged tea. And there is a beautiful garden in the back of that shop for anyone to enjoy, and let me tell you, when the weather isn’t cold and rainy, and I’m back for the regular Faire season come August, I am going to spend so much time getting to know that garden.

I also noticed that there are so many other witchy shops at the Faire that I had no idea were the real thing. The herb shop, the tea shop, a candle and lantern shop, multiple jewelry and clothing shops, another shop selling I don’t even remember what but is inside another thicket, but at this one the thicket is the shop, with walls made of leaves and branches, instead of a shop getting built inside a thicket.. I cannot wait until August so I can take a closer look around, and see what exactly has been under my nose this whole time.

What I’ve Learned

Oh, many, many things already. It has technically been a month, and I haven’t been recording anything in that time until now. So to save myself the stress of trying to just remember everything, I’m just going to list what I’ve learned in the last week, and anything else as it comes up. 

My aura is deep blue. Or, at least it was Thursday afternoon. I’m not sure if it’s a permanent color, or if it changes from moment to moment. A quick google search turns up this as its meaning: 

If your aura energy is blue, you're intuitive, and you love helping people. You remain calm during a crisis. Others lean on you for support. Royal blue aura: This means you are a highly developed spiritual intuitive or clairvoyant.

How about that shit. I wouldn’t say I’m “highly developed”... but that potential is absolutely there. It is raw and untamed and I have had run-ins with powerful spiritual experiences before. 

I swear there’s some kind of magic in music. I listened to a Harry Potter ambient video on YouTube on Monday evening as background noise, the first time I poked into anything Harry Potter since learning I’m a witch, and that took me on a ride. The emotions I felt were unreal. I don’t even get that emotional anymore listening to the soundtracks just by themselves. ... there was something about that mix. I wonder what that power is, whether it’s something in me or something in the music, and what other ways it can come to call. It is unlikely I’m just making too much of it.. one of the very first things I’ve learned is that there is no such thing as coincidence.

How I’m Learning

I started off doing a little bit of googling, and haunting a Facebook group I’m a member of called DIY Witches. But now I’ve moved to mostly following and creeping on fellow witchy blogs, so if I like A WHOLE TON of your old posts at once, that’s why. Don’t mind me, I’m just collecting posts to reblog and keep, once I get to them in my likes to add to my queue. 

Honestly, Tumblr witchcraft is SO MUCH MORE informative and varied - and not to mention woke - than anything I’d yet seen anywhere else. You are my people. I am going to learn so much here. 

My Situation

I am 28 years old, work as a project manager at a full-time office job, and live in a rented townhouse with my boyfriend, Tyler. We moved in together July of 2018, have been together for almost four years now (four years in August!), and have been seriously talking about engagement. We have not been without our hiccups of varying severity, but we always work on understanding each other and finding a compromise, and things always work out in the end. I love him with all my heart and can’t imagine my life being spent with anyone else. 

I was living in my parents’ house prior to moving last July. So, this is the very first time I’m living on my own, and dealing with all the responsibilities of adulthood on top of working a full-time job, home management, and dedicating time to my relationship. Finding time for myself and my multitudes of hobbies (I have so many) has been one of my biggest challenges, and highest priorities. And I’m happy to say I’ve been mostly successful in it. I’ve even been balancing a semi-good social life with it all.  

With all that said, finding the time - but mostly, the energy - to devote entirely to witchcraft is something I have only barely begun to address. With everything else that takes up my time, and the balance I only just seemed to discover, I have not yet figured out how to add this as well. 

And perhaps the more detrimental factor is Tyler. He doesn’t believe in anything in this vein at all, and in fact has been known to make fun of it on a regular basis. It’s entirely possible it’s because he’s understanding it incorrectly, and generally just doesn’t believe in any kind of spirituality. But currently, I am not comfortable talking to him about it at all. Maybe someday I’ll talk to him about it, and reveal what I am and what I feel, and help him learn and better understand. Maybe. But for right now, I have to keep anything I do quiet, private, and hidden.

Luckily, though, I’ve already been incorporating my love for trees and all things green into every aspect of my life for the last several years. I have made no effort to hide it. I thought it was just me “living my aesthetic.” Turns out it all meant so much more than that. And, hey - it can make it really easy to disguise things that are actually witchy as just “part of my aesthetic.” So I may actually be able to do some things without being discovered. 😊

My Story

This is something that will have to wait for another post. This one is already long enough. But, just you wait. This story reveals everything, and why my blog name is what it is. 🌳 💖 ✨

This Week’s Witchcraft Posts

Energetic Healing: Waterbending Style

Browse my tags: #witchcraft [useful] ❀ #witchy [aesthetic]

#witchy wednesdays #green witch #witchblr #witchcraft #pagan #personal

[eternalloveheart]

Morality: God or man?

I started reading the book “What if the bible never existed” by Dr Kennedy. He explores the importance of the bible by its impact on the world. I am only a few chapters in so far just wanting to bring out my thoughts and the quotes I pulled that made me think. I am pretty much summarizing my take on the points of the first few chapters. I will be making more posts on this book with different points. I know this is a blog so I am not making this into some kind of academic essay just posting the aftermath of my reading.

God or man’s?

There are many reasons we cannot officially have a moral code without God. One main “reason you can’t have morality without religion is not that can’t draw up a common code of ethics. It is that without an external authority, most people will not follow it. Now, I will grant that the humanists have drawn up a code, and they have gotten some people to follow it” (Dr Kennedy, page 435).

Brute force

It seems one of the easiest successful ways to get people to conform to a set of moral rules is by religion. A main problem is being human we know that everyone is capable of just as much evil as us if not more with no true claim to some high ground. I have personally asked some atheists how one might go about ensuring morality with those who do not agree with them such as sociopaths who have no empathetic compass. I explained that religion has helped a sociopath namely David Wood turn from his murderous ways to live a life for God. I wait attentively for a response only to hear the atheist respond with the words “brute force”.

It is difficult to use of brute force as it often leads to tyranny and rebellions. I am taking a policing course where we overview policing history. History shows it only aggravates the people further when more force was involved such as military intervention. It went against the human desire for a decent amount of liberties and rights (which even a sociopath would desire). In the Journal of Criminal Law, Criminology, and Police Science, Vol. 55 by J. L Lyman from the Northwest university of Law there is a review of historical mistakes using force against one’s citizens. In the journal it mentions the way the law enforcement was so hated it was inefficient in stopping crime which in turn had crime running more rampant. The journal states that “by 1828 one person in every three hundred and eighty-three was a criminal” in London. The method of “brute force” had worsened the situation as it never got to the core of the problem.

Reasoning

I assume not everyone would have immediately jumped to “brute force”. I think some may have even thought of just reasoning with people. I mean someone has to be able to convince if not through force or empathy that one should dogmatically follow a moral code. I do not just mean sociopaths I include anyone with opposing views of morality. I have to concede everyone has their own views of morality whether right or wrong.

In recent times “the president of the Yale University in a meeting of university professor and educators. He said that we need a new renaissance of education and morality in American colleges. You would think he would have been applauded. But he was booed! They hissed. They asked ‘Whose morality, professor, are you going to impose upon them?” He couldn’t answer the question (Dr. Kennedy, page 482). His ideas might have been the most perfect ideas in the world. It did not matter because no matter how perfect his moral is the human heart is just so full of its own evil. It will not listen to reasoning because it does not care for reasoning based upon their own moral reasoning.

So what if he got a chance to speak would anyone have listened? No one cares what anyone or any group claims is moral. “Charles Darwin knew this. He said it was a horrid thought to realize that all of his speech may have no more significance or meaning than the babbling of a monkey. He said, ‘Would anyone trust the conviction of a monkey’s mind, if there are any convictions in such a mind?” (Dr. Kennedy, page 506).

It is a hard pill to swallow to admit only God is righteous enough, powerful enough, efficient enough, knowledgeable enough, loving enough and so on to sustain a moral code. God even offers this moral code yet again to those who have broken it with a renewing of his mercies.

Born in sin

So if God is so great why is not everyone just following Him? The heart being born in sin wants to refuse the law for himself and have the laws imposed on others. It is where hypocrisy and double standards arise. I mean having the mental capacity to measure fairness and justice while having fleshly overruling savagery sins.

“Huxley was the most prestigious evolutionary scientist in the world at the time. The interviewer asked him, “Why do you think that evolution caught on so quickly?” Huxley began, “We all jumped at The Origin [The Origin of the Species by Charles Darwin] because . . .” Now if you ask a high school science class to finish that sentence, what do you think the students would say? They would say, “The reason we jumped at The Origin of Species was that the evidence amassed by Darwin was so intellectually compelling that scientific integrity required that we accept it as fact.” That is not what Huxley said. Rather, I heard him say, “[ I suppose the reason] we all jumped at The Origin [was] because the idea of God interfered with our sexual mores.” I almost fell out of my chair! What does that have to do with science? (Dr. Kennedy, page 692).

It seems like the same problem all over again with no one caring about absolute morality when they care too much for their own morality. This time it is different when we peak behind the veil. God makes a promise to those who seek Him diligently in Ezekiel. Ezekiel 36:26-28 A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you: and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you an heart of flesh. And I will put my spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes, and ye shall keep my judgments, and do them. And ye shall dwell in the land that I gave to your fathers; and ye shall be my people, and I will be your God.

Change

Before we go any further we must consider historical ways people have tried to impose change in the human heart. I know not all have tried “brute” force or “reasoning”. I must admit some have tried changing the environment to help people flourish into their best selves with the hope of fostering perfect peaceful moral.

Many people have been convinced the heart can be changed apart from divine intervention with environmental remodeling. The communists thought they were going to create the “new communist man” without religion. Karl Marx the intellectual founder of communism found his ideas to be the key to solve the mankind’s predicament proclaiming this as the “true solution”. It is no wonder they prohibited ministers from preaching heaven when they had ushered it in prenatally. He thought man was pretty good inside just corrupted by his environmental structures. I have read some books on communism the dream does not pan out.

The communist plan instead of thriving the fruit of good people had made room for a greater evil as “Marxism did produce a new Communist man—a man so cruel that he could commit the most barbaric crimes against his fellow human beings without the slightest qualms of conscience. When we become aware of what took place in the ghastly labor camps, or gulags, we can understand the nature of the new Communist man, perhaps the cruelest man the world has ever seen” (Dr. Kenny, page 811).

“An example of Communist torture occurred just within the last few years. Two Christian women were being punished by the Chinese authorities for the “crime” of being a part of the unregistered house church movement. They were stripped naked, hung up by their thumbs with wires, and beaten unconscious with cattle prods. The system Marx helped create—based on a false paradigm, which was itself based on a false picture of man’s true nature—has probably caused more evil than any system known to man” (Dr. Kennedy, page 821).

In the West “we are told, the new man will be fashioned by psychology and psychiatry. Before you become too excited about that possibility, remember that of all of the professions in America, the highest level of suicide is found in psychiatrists. So if you are contemplating such an act, I don’t recommend that you go see one. He might decide to hold your hand and jump first” (Dr. Kennedy, page 854). I have run into some issues with psychologists lately as I have been told by numerous friends their psychologists think they are beyond help. I almost think that should be illegal to tell a patient because these vulnerable people will remember this every time they reach another low. I can see how a self-fulfilling prophesy could take into effect.

Testimonies

The bible has changed many lives for the better helping people turn a new leaf. It is because being born again is gives a person a new heart and spirit with new desires. God promises to give people a new heart so is there any evidence of this change?

The same power that raised Jesus Christ from the dead still has the power to change a person to this day. “No unbeliever could tell me why His words are as charged with power today as they were nineteen hundred years ago. Nor could scoffers explain how those pierced hands pulled human monsters with gnarled souls out of a hell of iniquity and overnight transformed them into steadfast, glorious heroes [of the cross]” (Dr. Kennedy, page 936).

Kwai

There is a movie called “The bridge over the River Kwai” based on the book called “Through the Valley of Kwai”. The author of the book had spoken to the chaplain man of Princeton University who had been part of British forces. He was the very man that had written “The bridge over the River of Kwai”. “He told [him], heartbrokenly, what Hollywood had done to the truth. Here is the real story of the bridge over the River Kwai. The captives had been reduced to savagery. They were starving. They were snapping for every crust of bread like animals. And then the British commander discovered in one of their backpacks a New Testament. He began to read it. As he read it, the wonder of the love of Christ began to fill his soul, and he surrendered his life to the Savior and called on Him for His grace and help. He was transformed. He began to read that New Testament to his men each day. One after another became transformed until virtually the entire camp was transformed by the gospel of Christ. These animal-like men began to save their crusts of bread to give to those who were weaker and sicker than they were” (Dr Kennedy, page 897).

Joad

It is often easy to believe mankind is mostly good when one is living safely in a first world country founded on Christian foundations (which is further elaborated in later chapters). “C. E. M. Joad was one of the great philosophers of England in this century. He was a brilliant intellect and a militant unbeliever. [...] Earlier he had thought that man was basically good and that, given the right conditions, we could create heaven on earth. But two devastating world wars and the threat of another one brought home to him the reality that man is sinful. The only solution to man’s sin, concluded this former skeptic, is the cross of Jesus Christ” (Dr. Kennedy, page 957).

David wood

Note: the pages may not be exact though they are within the range of the found text. It is harder to tell on the kindle app if it is the exact page number.

[mandysimo13]

I was tagged by the ever so lovely @ellipsical-elle for this 10 questions thing. So, here we go!

10 Questions

1. The very first fanfiction you’ve read: what, when, why, feelings? I honestly can’t remember what the first fic I had ever read was but I know it was in the Teen Wolf fandom. And I do remember going “finally! Someone got the story right!” cause Jeff Davis is the fucking worst to his characters. It was nice to see that other people were invested in his characters where he, himself, was not. 

2. Do you wear a fragrance? what’s the scent baby? 

I don’t usually wear a fragrance. Sometimes I wear something called “Vampire Kisses” which is a perfume I picked up at a renaissance faire. It’s rose and patchouli, smells great on me. 

I3. You are reading a very smutty fic in a public transportation, when suddenly (gasp!) you realize the person next to you is reading over your shoulder… how do you react? 

Ask them how they enjoy being a fellow pervert and if their mother had taught them that it was impolite to read over people’s shoulders. 

4. you already have Christmas-y stuff up? 

Nope. That goes up soon, though.

5. Which Hogwarts house are you in? How do you feel about it? 

I always fall between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, but the older I get the more Hufflepuff I get. And I think it’s very accurate. 

6. share your favourite quick dinner recipe? 

I do what I call “garlic pasta”. It’s basically over-glorified buttered noodles but I actually sauté fresh garlic in olive oil for a little bit, then add a little butter and pour it over whatever noodles I’ve made that night. If I am really fancy, I chop a little parsley and toss that in, too. The really lazy version is just olive oil/butter/garlic powder. Either version is great with parmesan cheese.  

7. Last movie you’ve watched in a theatre? 

Kingsman 2, The Golden Circle. 

8. what did you have the last time you went out for dinner? 

Burgers and fries with the boyfriend

9. Ever shaved your hair (or part of it)? Would you? 

Ha! No. I don’t think I’d look good with my head shaved. 

10. worst job? 

My worst job was working at a place called CapTel in Milwaukee, a captioning service for the deaf and HOH community. Basic call center. On the surface, it sounded great. Health/dental benefits, double-paid holidays if you were working and “holiday pay” (if you requested off work you still got your daily wage), PTO, you could request to leave early, and they had free food days every couple months. But the management was increasingly micro-managey, they kept taking away things that made your job easier, and the call volume kept increasing to the point where you would be captioning non-stop for over two hours some days. Not to mention you got every kind of horrible person on the phone that you had to caption without feeling or complaint. I’ve captioned calls where people are using every slur in the book, women crying about abusive husbands, aging people getting scammed by internet predators, and the very elusive sex calls (those were actually great and would make my whole damn day). I worked there for almost 4 years and was depressed for 2 of them. It was a bad time. 

And now for the tagging! I tag: @sherlohomora @bakingsherlycakes @missmuffin221 @benedictgingerbatch00 @agent-fangirl  @simpleanddestructivechemistry @crave-that-mineral @theycantstopthesignal and anyone else who feels like playing along! Tag me so I can see your answers! 

#ask meme #friends