#David Lean - A Self Portrait

[haverwood]

David Lean: A Self Portrait Thomas Craven USA, 1971 ★★★ I was gonna say something about these old-timers' big ears and magnificently bushy eyebrows but kinda lost my train of thought there…

[thenwethrowitonthefire]

hello. here a unhinged but fun ask. if you could give these characters below a song(or songs. no limit of course) what song would it be?

Lilith Clawthorne

Shelley Byron

Mary wardwell

(and just to make sure I am being clear the songs can be anything. it can be a song you think character would enjoy or relate, can be a song you feel describe the character or part of their arc)

*and take your time if you need to :)

Hi! I love that you said "or songs", because of course I am *not* going to be able to just go with one song each 🌞 I am obviously going to be shoving a lot of odd little songs in your face :> I'll put one song each to start with, and I'll write & link more below the cut. (It's going to be quite a lot.)

Lilith Clawthorne (aka Bad Girl Historian):

Shelley Byron:

Mary Wardwell:

Lilith Clawthorne: I once saw someone headcanon Lilith as someone who would enjoy metal, and I *agree*! My knowledge of metal isn't very extensive though so I can't list a lot of that. I think she might also enjoy steampunk music (see the song at the top, bad girl historian), (emo-leaning) rock music, dramatic classical music and anything with a poetic quality. (...I can see her having a phase of going to a poetry nights in some dark basement where everyone wears a black beret.) She probably listens to some silly stuff here and there too but nobody better call anything she listens to silly, she's not ready for that... 😂

Songs: if we pretend we don't know anything about Star Wars I feel like The Imperial March matches her vibe quite well for when she was still a respected coven head. I think Surface Pressure (from Encanto) and Pulling Rabbits Out Of A Hat are lyrically good matches for her perfectionism, her constantly having to prove herself, and never really being seen or appreciated for all she can do and who she is. I think she might enjoy listening to Nemo (by Nightwish) and Corpo-Mente. Final one: Nemuro Memorial Hall from the Utena soundtrack. It's very "prissy little Lilith", I love this track very much. (I'll be throwing in a track from Utena for all 3 of them because that soundtrack is amazing and very varied. More people should know about that.)

Shelley Byron: I expect Shelley would have a very interesting music taste. I think she'd enjoy cabaret music, Bertolt Brecht/Kurt Weill, experimental music (all sorts, and I think she herself would also enjoy messing around with synths and generating music from organic material like for example hooking up different kinds of plants/mushrooms to a synth to see how they'd sound), new wave, perhaps also some jazz. She'd definitely enjoy lyrics with a poetic quality, too, music drenched in deep feelings.

Songs: I listed a David Sylvian song and I could list so many more David Sylvian songs for Shelley, I think she might really enjoy his work. (Or maybe it's just me who's the big fan of David Sylvian, which I obviously am. Listing songs for characters you relate to is of course a self portrait in a way.) So here's another one by Sylvian: I Should Not Dare. (The lyrics are a poem by Virginia Woolf, geesh the emotional load.) Here's one for a sisterhood silent film: Black And White Rag (which was written by Winifred Atwell). The next ones are songs that make me think of the safe space that she's built for herself and others who had to seek refuge for their being different, I haven't double checked the lyrics for full accuracy but the vibe is certainty there. Disenchanted by The Communards and Confide In Me by Kylie Minogue. I could list quite a few songs that would be a good fit for "Shelley The Absolute Charmer" but that would make me personally feel profoundly awkward, so I'll stick with listing just the one Correspondents song. I think early Correspondents overall is a good match, see for yourself: Washington Square. (*chuckles* that song is actually probably too forward 🤣 ... This specific song may not be the right choice. Oh well.) Next up: Shelley getting her heart broken. Love Will Tear Us Apart by Evelyn Evelyn (though the original is great too, I think she might like Evelyn Evelyn for its very much an art project - a bit dark, but still) and Why Did You Make Me Care? by Sparks. (If she's at some point feeling angry or apathetic enough within being heartbroken to destroy the salon over it somewhat... Tearing The Place Apart by Sparks.) I've already told you about Klaus Nomi in the past, but Klaus Nomi - After The Fall (either for surviving the war or in an "After The Eternal Flagellation" kind of way). (I'm going to put this one below just because it's such an amazing song.) I also think Shelley would enjoy Laurie Anderson's work, especially the Big Science album. Some more new wave she might enjoy (not very original choices): Visage - Fade To Grey, and Eurythmics - Sweet Dreams. And here's my choice from Utena: Radio Waves.

Mary Wardwell: I think I would have the least in common with Mary when it comes to music. Obviously she may be surprising with her music taste (as she usually is surprising), but I expect she enjoys different music from the 30's to 70's than I do, or it's music I may not know. (Bad Moon Rising which she was jamming to in the car in the first episode isn't to my taste, but it does show she enjoys music and enjoys music of the time, too.) I do think she'd like the song I put before the cut, and that might be a song we have in common. I expect to have a different taste in classical music as well, I like extremely bombastic classical music and I expect she'd be more likely to go for the soothing classical pieces. I think she would have a fair share of "silly" songs that she'd enjoy, odd radio jingles from the past for example. ...I'm not thinking of the old chiquita banana jingle that Russell likes, I am not thinking of the (...) I am thinking of the chiquita banana jingle. Dr. Cee's shop might actually have a thing or two in common with Ron and Russell's mum & stepdad's shop, and we know Mary enjoys Dr. Cee's... So there's a connection to strange little songs that my brain just made. ...Maybe she would have also enjoyed listening to horror movie soundtracks, Before Hell. (I've spent a lot of time over the years specifically thinking about pre-Hell Mary. After Hell some of her more odd/dark interests might not be fun to her anymore. I like guessing at who she was before the big trauma, and who she could have been had the story treated her better. #justiceformary)

(I feel like bringing up religion is important here, too. Mary grew up in such different times and I suppose she would have her religious background also influencing what she had access to music wise in her formative years, though we can't know for sure exactly how devoted she truly was Before Hell. The cross was on the fireplace obviously and she was engaged to Adam, but she also really enjoyed horror and knew about witches being part of the village's past. I personally take those as activities deviating from the religion she's part of, and not as like... Witch hunter qualities from an extremely devoted Christian. (... Which she was turned into later. Damn you, caos.) My personal take is that she perhaps prayed more After Hell in hope to find answers and perhaps also safety, no longer "messing around" because she's got a real concept of hell. But what I wanted to say about that is that maybe she has affection for certain hymns. I don't know much about hymns though so I can't list any that would have Mary vibes. Also I've mostly been spending time in the AfM verse, where her relationship to religion changes.)

Songs: one somewhat light-hearted choice that I find describes her well, before we go into darker subjects (I'll put cheerier ones at the very end): Self-Effacing by Sparks. TAKE UP SOME SPACE, QUEEN. YOU DESERVE IT. Okay, here we go... My choices for "dealing with holes in her life and having returned from hell". Rock'N'Roll Suicide by David Bowie. I think the lyrics are actually a really good fit and the end of the song brings some comfort ("OH NO LOVE, YOU'RE NOT ALONE", let someone please hold her hand throughout all this holy shit). I think that's a song that would have her back in dealing with everything. Which Way To Turn by Bryan Ferry, another song for the ones lost in life... Then we have Mary dealing with the mystery and loss of Adam: Don't Go Away by Sparks & Max Richter. (Geesh okay I'm having no mercy on myself here, that song gets me emotional anyway and now I'm mixing it with Mary's suffering. But okay, in a similar vein: Irreplaceable by Sparks might also apply.) I'm being very Sparks heavy here, because also I'm going to mention the Give Me Something collaboration by Yoko Ono & Sparks. Onto some cheerier ones. A song that makes me think of her doll collection (I love her for this, whether she intended them to be creepy or not. I think her doll collection is pretty badass): Wicked Little Doll by David Byrne. (It's not really a song with ultimate Mary vibes or anything, but it matches how I feel about her having those dolls hehehe.) Here's one that's entirely about the lyrics: With All My Might by Sparks. I've linked to the song but what you should really do is read the lyrics. It's a song of ultimate devotion and determination, and those are very much qualities Mary has in abundance. It's very much who Mary is, you'll definitely feel that if you end up reading AfM. (I am certain Adam was that way about Mary, too.) You may find more songs that Mary likes when reading Ro's fic, she actually put proper research in to figure out what songs fit the timeframe and what songs Mary would like. Here's my last one for Mary, from the Utena soundtrack. I simply think Mary would like this song:

(As a little bonus (you didn't ask but I'm telling you anyway) some Sparks songs that I felt were a good match with some other characters you know: My Other Voice for caos Lilith (this is purely about the lyrics, the sound is not a match with Lilith, but the lyrics are A Threat). I Married Myself for Missy/The Master at the end of S10 (...I am easily amused, I had considered making a video edit). Left Out In The Cold for Crowley (apply it to the fall). Onomato Pia for Aziraphale (I think he'd enjoy the song, but also they sing about "angelic hair" and a charm that surpasses the inability to speak a language, and Aziraphale is both very charming and terrible at French.))

[ogradyfilm]

Recently Viewed: The Dead Zone

[The following review contains MINOR SPOILERS; YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!]

Does a film truly need to slavishly adhere to a traditional three-act structure? Judging by his adaptation of Stephen King’s The Dead Zone, David Cronenberg certainly doesn’t seem to think so. Whereas a conventional thriller would probably conclude shortly after the clairvoyant hero’s final showdown with the sadistic serial killer he’s been pursuing, the director of Videodrome and Naked Lunch has barely gotten halfway through the narrative by that point; before the end credits roll, the protagonist—mild-mannered schoolteacher turned reluctant psychic Johnny Smith (Christopher Walken, distilling his oft-parodied on-screen persona into a genuinely compelling portrait of trauma and vulnerability)��still has to reconnect with his estranged former fiancée, protect his young protégé from an emotionally abusive father, and thwart the political ambitions of a deranged megalomaniac (Martin Sheen, voraciously devouring scenery in an apparent effort to beat Walken to the punch).

That Cronenberg manages to fit an entire miniseries’ worth of material into a lean 105-minute running time is nothing short of miraculous. He accomplishes this by adopting a simple yet elegant episodic framework: each of the movie’s approximately eight acts (by my admittedly rough estimate) is relatively self-contained, featuring its own fully-developed conflict, climax, and character arc. Collectively, these interconnected subplots orbit one unifying thematic question: Can precognition be used for the benefit of mankind, or is the very existence of such supernatural abilities inherently harmful?

The result is a beautiful cinematic paradox, simultaneously epic in scale and economical in design. Cronenberg has more than earned his title as "The Master of Body Horror,” but The Dead Zone clearly demonstrates that this label is also quite reductive; he is, above all else, a ridiculously talented storyteller.

[lucysautblog]

David Uzochukwu

Uzochukwu is a very talented photographer who in my opinion in more creatively driven through his photography creating surreal, emotive images. His Self portraits have so many concepts behind them which creates question behind his pictures. He uses light to illuminate himself as the subject through warm light.

The composition of himself seen in the pictures above is often using the rule of thirds placing him in the centre and having probs around him. I think the composition of him laying in the grass is especially emotive and interesting because of its simplicity yet the depth of the picture and the way he is positioned leaning backwards creates an emotional piece.

[denimbex1986]

'Looking back, 2023 was a year of wild swings. And two big strikes (if you’ll forgive the pun) — first the Writers Guild and then the Screen Actors Guild took the studios and streamers to task, forcing production to a halt. Yet whatever was going on behind the scenes, Hollywood had a grand-slam year, asserting its audacious cultural relevance with the historic double-header that was “Barbenheimer.”

Variety’s two chief film critics agree that Christopher Nolan’s portrait of the man behind the Manhattan Project is one for the ages — a “Lawrence of Arabia”-level feat about a turning point in human history, as seen through the haunted blue eyes of one of our finest actors...

Peter Debruge’s Top 10...

2. Oppenheimer

I admit to being underwhelmed by “Oppenheimer” on first viewing. (Hard to imagine, considering the scale, but it didn’t help that the Imax print broke at the film’s press screening, forcing the theater to switch over to a lower-res backup projector — a twist that must have horrified control freak Christopher Nolan.) Grand as anything David Lean ever directed, this massive, awe-powered biopic had been marketed as the making of the atomic bomb, the detonation of which occurs at the two-hour mark, with a third of the movie still to go. Turns out, that last hour holds the (moral) key to why Nolan had to tell this story. After racing to beat the Germans, Manhattan Project super-brain J. Robert Oppenheimer (a never-better Cillian Murphy) faces the terrifying ramifications of what he’s wrought: We now live in a world of nuclear weapons, whose secrets inevitably fell into dangerous hands. I should have known that “Oppenheimer” would demand multiple viewings, as that was true of “Memento,” “Inception” and nearly all Nolan’s films. My advice to you: See it as big as possible as many times as it takes...

Owen Gleiberman's Top 10

1. Oppenheimer

Christopher Nolan’s mesmerizing drama became a testament to the promise that serious movies for adults can, and will, have a future in movie theaters. In the wake of its success, however, many have asked: How is it that a densely packed three-hour movie about the father of the atomic bomb became a big-ticket blockbuster on the level of films featuring superheroes, avatars, and Tom Cruise? The answer lies in Nolan’s wizardry as a storyteller. He stages “Oppenheimer” as a coruscating light show of history, dazzling in every detail. It’s a film that draws you in with centrifugal force, even at it both celebrates and interrogates the fabled figure of J. Robert Oppenheimer, played by Cillian Murphy as a charismatic mandarin whose scientific genius is matched by his self-justifying insolence. If you think the movie falls off in its last third, you haven’t watched it closely enough. Long after the bomb has been dropped, Nolan uses both the extended 1954 security hearing and the amazing performance of Robert Downey Jr. to place Oppenheimer in the crosshairs of judgment, revealing that his delusions were nearly as large as his heroism...'

[newportironman]

The Year the Sight and Sound Poll Died

For over 60 years the British Film Institute (BFI) and Sight & Sound (I subscribe to) have published a list of the top 100 films of all time.  It’s a closed survey – they reach out to over 1000 directors, producers, critics etc. and only do it once every 10 years.  The idea is to not have a survey subject to the whims of the latest hot thing and that only people who should know what they are talking about should vote.

 The last one was 2012.  Vertigo and Citizen Kane were #1 and #2.  I have been waiting  anxiously for this years poll.  In the cinema world this is a BIG deal.  It came out this morning.  A 1975 Film called  Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles (yup – the whole thing) was voted #1.

 A 3 hour movie about a Belgian disaffected part time prostitute female which excruciatingly follows her daily movements and life.  Purpose.  To expose the patriarchy and remind us all how oppressed women are.  A female director of course.  No DW Griffith or others (see below) even in the top 100.

How did this happen.  How did the most revered poll in cinema history come to this.  More female voters this time. Many aching at the chance to jump in and upvote a female director and a female story.  So… a clearly well thought of film that most people never heard of jumped from #35 in 2012 all the way to #1.  Ahead of Citizen Kane and Vertigo.  I’m still stunned.  Was going to post something to Twitter but then noticed that the self-proclaimed cinephiles on there – all of whom are progressives – are falling all over themselves to congratulate themselves and the world that a female directed film made #1.  Not wanting to be flamed I decided not to.

We have a process degraded by the need to make things right and check the boxes and get the “right” result.  Doomed is a strong word but the fellow below says it better than I could.

 From a post called “The Year the Sight & Sound Poll Died”

“Earlier this year, I begged voters not to politicize the Sight and Sound poll. I felt like it was not just a possibility, but a potential inevitable, that voters would blur the lines between politics and cinema history.

I wrote: “A shake up is no doubt about to occur due to how hyperpoliticized things have become these last 10 years […] If there’s one thing I can plea for, with voters of this decade’s edition of the poll, is to please keep the woke politics out of it. No, “Portrait of a Lady on Fire” and “Moonlight.”

Welcome to my nightmare.”

 Indie Wire:

Old masters who once appeared in the Top 10 are gone from the Top 100 altogether: Rene Clair, D.W. Griffith, Robert Flaherty, Erich von Stroheim, Marcel Carne, and David Lean.

 Drudgery – this is #1 because – wait – it’s a woman’s film by a woman and you know – we all patronize and oppress them to the end of the world.  This poll now has zero meaning or credibility or attachment to the real world.

[j--mno-art]

Orym

[image description

The image is a digital paint over of an old painting. Only the figure has been changed. The original is included below.

Seen waist up, Orym is a halfling man wearing green armour decorated in leaves. There is a green piece of fabric draped over one arm. He is leaning forward on his tattooed right arm and looking directly at the viewer. There is a simple green and red drapery background.

end id]

Paint-over of Self portrait by Anselm Feuerbach

and David with the Head of Goliath by Simon Vouet

[image description 2

The basic pose and background are the same as the paint over above. Pictured is young man with a mustache and short hair. He has a white shirt with large lapels. His jacket is black and has poofy sleeves

end id 2

image description 3

A half clothed David sitting with the head of Goliath. His bare right arm was used in the paint over above.

end id 3]

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/30/2022: CRIMES OF THE FUTURE (2022)

I love this movie.

I hate making top 5-type lists, or being forced to name a favorite thing within your favorite field. If you really care about something, wouldn't your feelings about it be deep and wide, and not attached to a single monolithic example of it? So when pressed, I usually answer on instinct, and just say that David Cronenberg is my favorite director. It's more or less the truth. His imperious intelligence, polymorphic perversity, and his embrace of all god's creatures—even the pathological and parasitic—as the heroes of their own narratives, all add up to a form of satisfaction that I just can't get anywhere else. He's simply the best, and too smart, too hip, and too original to be imitated despite his indelible influence on the horror world at large.

Portrait by Jean Ber. Hubba.

But, if I'm being completely honest, when I think about him, I tend to think of the Cronenberg from the before-time. The horror films that he made between SHIVERS and CRASH are what characterize him for me as an artist. These are stories about evolution, whether humans are obliterated or uplifted by it, and the way some of us crave to accelerate evolution through personal and political means when it doesn't come fast enough to keep up with our evolving ambitions. Max Renn's indoctrination into the revolutionary cult of VIDEODROME, Seth Brundle's overhaul of his own genetics in THE FLY, and the underground war waged by post-humans in SCANNERS are probably the boldest and best-remembered representations of the artist's ethos. However, viewers like me may remember 2002's eXistenZ, a spy thriller about viscera-based video games, as the last truly Cronenbergian film—not that he stopped making good, even great movies, but thereafter he leaned into literary adaptations and psychodramas that explore social dysfunctions and deformations of the mind more than they do the possibilities of the flesh. I enjoyed those movies, but I also missed the classic Cronenberg, the experimental one who used the body as an allegorical battlefield for the struggle between old and new ideologies. I figured I wouldn't get him back, either, thinking of William Gibson's retort to readers who wish he still wrote the way he used to when he said (approximately) that Neuromancer is a young man's novel, and if he were still doing exactly what he did decades ago, then something would be seriously wrong.

Ronald Mlodzik as subversive dermatologist Adrian Tripod in CRIMES OF THE FUTURE (1970), about to be set upon by a hot piece of rough trade with webbed toes.

Anyway. I'm thrilled to be able to report that the old Cronenberg is alive and well in this sensational update of his 1970 short film CRIMES OF THE FUTURE. Many have been careful to note that the 2022 release is not a remake of that early project, but I would refute the assertion that the two movies have nothing in common beyond their sharing one of the greatest movie titles ever written. In CRIMES '70, a rogue dermatologist seeks a way to preserve humanity in the face of a gynocidal plague caused by toxic cosmetics. In that world, traditional heteronormative, masculine pageantry has all but evaporated, leaving the surviving males with increasingly androgynous forms of self-expression, contributing to the creation of rival factions with their own sociopolitical agendas. In order to protect the human race from extinction, the protagonist is faced with the decision to do something appalling to a small child. In CRIMES '22, the human race as we know it is threatened by Accelerated Evolution Syndrome, in which certain bodies rapidly produce new organs and new abilities that are incompatible with the old way of life. The government is taking oppressive steps to preserve the standard qualifications for human taxonomy, but the mercurial state of biological affairs is changing everything, including the expression of sexuality and desire. Ultimately, the ability of the new people to retain their human status will hinge on the protagonists' willingness to do something radical with the body of a child. With all that said, it is clear that the early short film planted the seeds of this late vintage masterpiece that is among the finest and most distinctive works of David Cronenberg's entire career.

CRIMES OF THE FUTURE (2022) focuses on Saul Tenser (Viggo Mortensen, who is the new Rutger Hauer) and Caprice (Léa Seydoux), a pair of performance artists making the most out of Saul's acute case of Accelerated Evolution Syndrome. Saul's condition makes him dependent on a variety of high tech, Gigeresque orthotic devices, including a bed that shifts his body to ameliorate its painful inner workings, a chair that rearranges him in effort to support his waning ability to eat, and a special sarcophagus originally designed for autopsies that is now the chief tool of Saul and Caprice's artmaking. For their fevered fans, Caprice vivisects her partner, who experiences a post-sadomasochistic ecstasy at being penetrated and fondled from within. For many ordinary people, pain and infection are things of the past, so self-mutilation and body modification are now popular pastimes—or, as twitchy government spook Timlin (Kristen Stewart) puts it, "Surgery is the new sex." Embedded in this ever-expanding subculture are dissidents who seek to defend their status as human beings from the state's attempt to track and constrain the anatomical changes cropping up everywhere, which places Saul and Caprice in a moral quandary when they meet Lang Dotrice (Scott Speedman). The rebel leader requests that the couple make a political statement by publicly performing the autopsy of his mutant son, who was slain by the child's phobic mother. This lands the artists in a world of espionage and identity politics with no lesser stakes than the fate of the human race, and the rules for who is allowed to partake in it.

CRIMES OF THE FUTURE really has it all. It's beautifully designed, atmospheric, blackly funny, sexually subversive, profoundly disturbing, and most of all, timely. It takes place at the end of the world as we know it—a place many of us feel we already inhabit—but it holds out hope for a future in which being who you truly are, both privately and on the record, is a radical action in and of itself. Mutation and adaptation are the way forward, not conformity and foolish sentimentality, and these things are as good for the world as they are for the individual. But of course, Cronenberg doesn't apply this balm in the pat, corny way that I just did; the path to his ambiguous yet oddly optimistic ending is fraught and full of ambivalence as it orbits around one of the most shocking images that anyone has ever filmed. Somehow, in his late 70s and in our decadent age when explicit sex and violence dominate popular prestige television, David Cronenberg is still pushing buttons and violating our remaining boundaries with the skill and deliberation of a surgeon, and like a surgeon, he can change you if you let him. Surgery is the new sex. Long live the new flesh.

[light-is-typing]

Would you be down to write an Escape at Dannemora inmate sweat fic? I feel like it would be so hot to have jail Paul fuck a guard on a night shift or something 🙊. He acts so hard it’s definitely has me feeling some type of way!

Quiet

David Sweat x GN!AFAB!reader

Word count: 1.5 K

Summery: Reader wakes David late at night for a little help at the sewing room

Tags/warnings: NSFW!! Finger sucking

A/N: first time writing smut imma curl into a ball and hide away

It had been a very quiet night.

David Sweat was sitting on his bed, trying to draw an unsuccessful self portrait, when soft footsteps made him freeze in place. It wasn't that he was scared per say, but he couldn't deny the cold sweat damping his forehead.

He slides the canvas and his pencil under the bed with skillful speed and lays down, trying to soften his light panting.

"I know you're awake inmate Sweat." A whispery voice taunts at him. 

David can feel his slight annoyance at the know it all voice.

"I've got something to show you." the voice is tempting. David sighs and rolls around to look at the figure standing on the other side of the metal bars. He's trying his best to keep his temper down but something about this.. Surprisingly beautiful guard? screams danger.

Your fingers play with the keys in almost humorous manner. David shifts his body into a sitting position again. Your face lighten with a satisfied smile, and you put the keys in the cell's door, turning them around slowly as to not make a sound.

The door opens slowly, and you move out of the way, signaling him with you hand yo get up and follow you. He doesn't know why, but he does.

You guys walk silently, without exchanging any words, until you get to ta place he knows very well - the sewing room.

You walk around the sewing machines, and David follows you, his hand caresses them gently, it looks like being here gives him confidence, and his back straightens, his steps become heavier.

You stop in front of a big closet and turn around to face him, he doesn't stop in time and bumps into you.

"Woah, easy there" you chuckle.

"Sorry" he mutters, but he isn't really.

"Well," you squirm back. "I was informed that you're the best of the best in sewing here." A cocky smile stretches his lips. "And I was hoping you could help me with a special little project I'm working on" You finish.

"Hmm.. Let's see it" he gestures to the door, and you open it. Kneeling down, you take out a carton box full of cut out fabrics. You then look up at him. "I've been trying to make some bunny plushies for my little niece" you explain. David raises an eyebrow. "Bunny plushies?" His tone is almost mocking.

"Well, yes." You're slightly annoyed at his cockiness. "And as the best here, I was hoping you'd help me, but if you don't feel like it I can just put you back in your cell" you puff. 

"Hey, relax" he hand out his hand, suggesting his help; you take it, and he pulls you close.

you suddenly feel very small.

"I was just wondering what I get out of this." His hand hasn't left yours. In fact, his hold is firm, almost uncomfortably so, but instead of being scared, you feel a certain warmness forming in your stomach.

"Well.." Your voice breaks. "Ughm, well, what would you like?"

He doesn't answer immediately, instead, his pulls you in even closer.

"Can I ask for anything I want?"

"We'll see."

You try to back away, but even he notices it is an embarrassingly lazy attempt.

He chuckles, and you notice how white his teeth are, it makes a certain pulse go through your stomach and travel down to your panties. You swallow thickly. His eyes pierce you, a faint trace of a smile rests on his lips as his eyes travel all across your body, almost hungry looking. They then return to your eyes, and he looks directly at you when he says "I want to get to know you better."

"And just how are we going to do that?" You question.

"Well," David's hand leaves yours and slides up your thigh, making you gasp. "I think you have a slight idea." You swallow again, and lean against the table in the closet. David pushes you backwards, so now you're sitting on the table. Your legs open by themselves, and David takes on the invitation to get closer to you. He's just a bit taller than you, but with you sitting you seem much shorter than you are.

David leans down, and you feel his breath on your skin; it surprisingly smells minty, and you feel another tingle in your clit, which makes you shift your eyes down shamefully.

Then you feel a warm hand under your chin, and David lifts your head up so your eyes lock up again. He leans in even closer and thumb traces your lips - which part automatically. He smirks and shoves his thumb in slightly and a quiet moan escapes your lips, and makes you go beet red, which seems to only make him cockier. He pushes himself against you, and the brush of his surprisingly hard cock against your clit, even through your pants, brings a slight relief to your ache; you take in on the offer and grind against him, now getting used to hearing your whimpers bounce around the closet. David shoves his thumb deeper and it makes you gag, but he doesn't seem to mind, he's too busy focusing on how good your cunt feels against him. He leans down and bites your ear, before whispering to it softly "you better stay quiet" before backing away. A disappointed whimper leaves your lips, only to be cut away by a strong hand groping your cunt. You then hear another chuckle. "You're so wet already" he whispers against your ear, and you shamefully realize your slick has already wet your pants.

"Sorry" you murmur, having a hard time speaking with his thumb still pushing on your tongue. 

"No need to apologize," he scoffs, "I like it."

And with that you melt into his hand, grinding your pulsing clit against him eagerly and making stifled sounds. His hand wettens with your slick until the movements are sloppy and fast, you squirm under him and your breaths become short and stuttered. "I think I'm gonna-"

He backs away again, and you look at him, confused. "Why'd you stop?"

"You think you're the only one allowed to have fun?" He asks half seriously.

"Oh."

His wet hand leaves his belt shiny as he unbuckles it. His hand disappears inside his pants, and he storkes himself a few times before taking his cock out, and you gasp at the size of it. It's not too big, but it's definitely not too small. He shifts himself closer to you again, and his now free cock brushes against you. His hard form is even better feeling against you and a loud moan breaks from you.

"Please David" you breathe out, and he doesn't need anymore encouragement.

A firm hand slides down your pants, then your panties, and an experienced thumb brushes gently at your clit. 

"Fuck-" you practically scream at the touch."more. More!" You beg, but his hand leaves you needy and wanting more, as it goes back to stroking himself. He then guides himself and lands at your entrance, only to tease it, pushing in slightly, then coming back out, sending electricity all through your body. Finally you've had enough, and you push down at it, moaning satisfyingly as he hits a good spot. The feeling of your walls against him changes something in his actions - they become sloppy and almost compulsive, as he groans and holds you down by your chest, pushing even deeper. His hand travels upwards as he starts fucking into you, and lands on your neck, holding it to balance himself. Two fingers lay on your chin, touching your bottom lip, and your pink tongue greets them, as if to ask - "can I taste you?"

He agrees to the silent question immediately and shoves them in again, moaning as your wet tongue explores them, and you can feel him twitch inside you; and you wonder if he's already so close to cumming.

Your thoughts are cut with the feeling of his strong thumb rubbing you again. 

"God- David-" you bite down at his fingers.

"Shhh" He hushes you aggressively, a slight trace of pain on his face. As you look up, you explore them. His high cheekbones are colored red and are shiny with sweat, even his buzzed hair his all shiny.

Him quickening his movements brings you back to the feeling in the lower part of your body, and his thumb matches his pace, sending pulses of pleasure through your body.

He doesn't stop this time, and you're surprised to hear a high pitched whimper slipping out of his mouth, and he shivers.

You try to, but you can't help but smirk at how desperate he got so fast; but then again, the throbbing in your core argues in his defense.

Suddenly his movements stop, and he's panting, trying to catch his breath.

"I'm sorry, if you want me to last longer I need to-"

You're having none of that, and you push down into him, taking control as you fuck yourself into him again and again. 

"Please, I'm serious if you keep doing that- fuck!" And you feel a familiar hoteness filling you as he twitches and shivers and rutts into you. 

The hotness against the right spot pushes you over the edge, and a hushed scream echoes in the closet.

"Hello?" A muffled voice outside the closet cuts your orgasm, and as your wide eyes meet David's, both your hearts sink as you come to the same realization. Oh no.

[youarestellarverse]

@starlightshadowsworld tagged me in a thing about sexuality headcanons!

For the actual canon, my general feel is that it started at a period of time when having a main queer character in a series for young people that wasn't specifically a Queer Series was unacceptable. This has fortunately started to change in recent years (partly because of Nico— I cannot overstate the impact it had that a hugely popular author who could afford to take that risk insisted on taking that risk; the difference in post-HOH mainstream queer youth characters is so massive it makes my fourteen year old self weep as she keyword searches "gay and lesbian" on her library network because David Levithan and Annie On My Mind were her only options). The books seem to be adapting from "everyone is straight because Hyperion Publishing is owned by Disney" to "young teenagers are still figuring things out". I like that method, personally!

So that's why I'm answering this over here on my ficblog instead of my main @stillneedsmorekissing. I present the sexualities I am using in my fic (plus a few kink roles for the ones I've actually considered):

Percy is a sub who uses both "bisexual" and "pansexual":

"You know I think you're breathtaking."

"Against all odds, yes, I do."

"How do you feel?"

Percy blinks, like he hadn't been expecting it.

"I feel...pretty," he says, after a long minute of quiet. Then he smirks, and Jason gets where he's going with it a second before he makes the West Side Story reference. "And witty. I have too much baggage from the 'that's so gay' craze to use it as an umbrella term for myself, but 'bi' rhymes with 'guy', so it almost works if you swap it in and moosh two stanzas together."

"Are you still using pansexual too?" Jason takes another photo, watching as Percy relaxes into the pillow again, his eyes closing.

"Yeah. They both fit, they're both comfy, so why not?" He half-shrugs. "Pan is probably closer if we're going purely by definition, but they're similar enough that I don't care about making a firm distinction for myself. Plus I got most of my pride stuff secondhand from Paul, and he got most of it, like, a decade before pansexuality was coined. He even gave me a couple vintage bi-angle pins."

Jason immediately pictures a set of two tri-tone portraits, one for each flag. That's a project he'll definitely have to use Rachel's studio for; he'll need oil paint and a large canvas to do it justice.

"I wonder how he'd feel about you calling them vintage."

(From Here in Our Bed, chapter 12)

Jason is a bisexual dom.

Nico is a gay switch.

The rest are under a cut because they spoil some plans.

Reyna is biromantic and asexual/sex-neutral (she's not bothered by doing it, but she wouldn't seek it out for fun). She is, however, very much a domme...which can be a tiny bit of a problem, because:

Piper is a lesbian, and also a domme-leaning switch.

This is set up for the bisexual Annabeth to figure out she thought she was a domme, but she's actually a sub-leaning switch— she was misinterpreting her bratty streak. She and Piper are both allosexual and she doesn't mind getting ganged up on and losing fights, which balances out the relationship and gets it running smoothly again!

Hazel is straight.

Frank is straight with one (1) exception.

Leo is the exception, and isn't actually sure how he identifies, because it doesn't occur to him until many years down the line when they enter a V with Hazel and he eventually has to come to terms with the fact that at some point he acquired a boyfriend and made the V a triangle when he wasn't looking. Tentatively, he ends up landing simply on "queer", because nothing else seems to fit exactly right and that's what it's there for!

I'm still considering gender, because I'm undecided on whether my current Brand New Genderfluid Awakening Process is something I want to work through fictionally yet, but I suspect Percy will ultimately decide he's a guy with an asterisk.

(Also, the mental image of Jason using drag as a vehicle for self-expression after a lifetime of being molded into the Paragon of Masculine Ideals will not leave me alone, so there's that.)

That's about all I got so far!

[soracities]

do you have any posts on saying 'I love you'? a little more specifically on a hesitation or struggle to use those words and their bigness...if that makes sense

“Yes yes yes I do like you. I am afraid to write the stronger word.”

— Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Vita Sackville-West

“I’m sorry I cannot say I love you when you say you love me. The words, like moist fingers, appear before me full of promise but then run away to a narrow black room that is always dark, where they are silent, elegant, like antique gold, devouring the thing I feel. I want the force of attraction to crush the force of repulsion and my inner and outer worlds to pierce one another, like a horse whipped by a man. I don’t want words to sever me from reality. I don’t want to need them. I want nothing to reveal feeling but feeling—as in freedom, or the knowledge of peace in a realm beyond, or the sound of water poured in a bowl.”

— Henri Cole, “Gravity and Center”

— Sufjan Stevens, “Futile Devices”

“Do you remember the way the girls would call out "love you!" conveniently leaving out the "I" as if they didn't want to commit to their own declarations. I agree that the "I" is a pretty heavy concept.”

— David Berman, ‘Self-Portrait At 28′

“You're in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won't tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you've done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shoveled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you're tired. You're in a car with a beautiful boy, and you're trying not to tell him that you love him, and you're trying to choke down the feeling, and you're trembling, but he reaches over and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you've discovered something you don't even have a name for.”

— Richard Siken, ‘You Are Jeff’

“Because my love for you Is higher than words, I have decided to fall silent.”

— Nizar Qabbani, from The Book of Love (Untitled Poem #4)

— Emma (2020), dir. Autumn de Wilde

“More than anything I was relieved that in my unfamiliar babbling-and-wanting-to-talk state I'd stopped myself from blurting the thing I'd never said, even though it was something we both knew well enough without me saying out loud to him in the street — which was, of course, I love you.”

— Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch

“What I feel for you can’t be conveyed in phrasal combinations; It either screams out loud or stays painfully silent but I promise — it beats words. It beats worlds.”

— Katherine Mansfield, excerpt from a letter

— Margaret Atwood, “We Are Hard”

“...and I want to tell you something, come close I want to whisper it, to pour the words burning into you, the same words for each one of you, listen, it’s simple, I’m saying it now, while I’m still sober, while I’m not about to weep bitterly into my own glass, while you’re still here—don’t go yet, stay, stay, give me your shoulder to lean against, steady me, don’t let me drop, I’m so in love with you I can’t stand up.”

— Kim Addonizio, from “Glass”

“I never call your name, but you are in me like the song in the nightingale’s throat even when it’s not singing.”

— Dulce María Loynaz, “LVII”

“…forgive me Darling, for every word I say — my heart is full of you, none other than you in my thoughts, yet when I seek to say to you something not for the world, words fail me. If you were here — and Oh that you were, we need not talk at all, our eyes would whisper for us, and your hand fast in mine, we would not ask for language — “

— Emily Dickinson, letter to Susan Gilbert  

— Jeanette Winterson, Lighthousekeeping

[atruththatyoudeny]

Happy 28th! Here are all the 14 fics I read and enjoyed this month. As always, all the love for all the amazing authors in this fandom! ♥

In The Still Of The Night | jacaranda_bloom | Dirty Dancing AU - a/b/o - prejudice - gender stereotyping - class divide - angst - pining - smut - 69k In a society where omegas are expected to follow a predetermined path, Louis strives for more; for his voice to be heard, for recognition, for true love. In a world where your past defines your future, Harry fights against the system; for equality, for a different life, for acceptance. When their two worlds collide, will they be beaten down by conformity or will they rise up and forge a new path together? OR the Dirty Dancing AU where Louis is a feisty omega who wants to change the world, Harry is an alpha from the wrong side of the tracks, and nobody puts Louis in a corner.

Plant New Seeds in the Melody | 28sunflowers | enemies to friends to lovers - miscommunication - misunderstandings - emotional hurt/comfort - Original Character Death - grief/mourning - slow build - smut - 58k After losing his husband in a tragic car accident, the last thing Louis needs is to keep running into popstar Harry Styles, who David was quite fond of. Obviously, that’s exactly what keeps happening. But as their unlikely friendship blossoms, Louis realizes that, maybe, having Harry in his life was the only good thing that came out of his adverse circumstances. Harry could be just the right person to help Louis find trust and intimacy in someone new.

take my hand, wreck my plans | amomentoflove | Cinderella AU - a/b/o - royalty - Minor Character Death - emotional abuse - magic - 38k Louis meets the man in the center of the room, feeling every eye on him. “Mr. H,” he whispers. The man smiles brightly and laughs as if he can’t believe his eyes. “It’s you,” he says breathlessly. “I didn’t think I would see you again.” “Nor I you, especially under these circumstances.” “Even so,” Mr H says, his eyes bouncing from Louis’ eyes to his lips. “Will you do me a great honor and join me in leading the first … um…” “Dance?” Mr. H laughs and nods. “Yes, that’s the one.” Louis bites his lips and doesn’t hesitate before whispering, “Yes.” Mr. H beams and reaches for Louis’ hand. Sparks fly at the touch and a zing of excitement shoots through Louis’ body. His face heats up as he’s afraid his scent would give away his feelings towards the other man.

One More Taste of Your Lips | Canadianlarrie & MsHydeStylinson | canon compliant - reunion tour - angst - internalized homophobia/biphobia - cheating - smut - Coming Out - 80k It had been eight years since the hiatus began, and Louis had spent that time writing and recording music, touring and making it safely through the pandemic. When the opportunity arose to go back on tour with One Direction, Louis knew he'd be a fool not to take it. Sure, life on the road would be different after all this time apart, but he was looking forward to experiencing that comradery again. What he hadn't realised was that living the better part of nine months in each other's pockets was bound to dredge up issues from his past. And when one of the pockets belonged to Harry, who he'd had a rather unconventional friendship with that drifted apart during their last tour, life on the road again would upend both their lives in irrevocable ways. * Harry wasn’t that sixteen year old boy anymore. Nor was he the young man in his late teens who was on the cusp of conquering the entire world. But some traits seemed to remain the same; his vibrant green eyes, the dimples set deeply in his cheeks whenever he laughed earnestly, or his curls that were the same shade of cocoa that Louis remembered fondly. And yet, Louis had absolutely no idea who this man that stood a mere twenty paces away was today.

Old Photographs & Times I'll Remember | jaerie | time travel - Eroda - period-typical homophobia - anxiety - depression - discussion about suicide - self-discovery - post-break up - 54k Carefully he set that negative down and lifted the paper to see there was another beneath. This one again was a young man, this time posed against an antique car. He lifted a few more negatives out one by one, each a portrait of the same man with various backdrops. The man in a meadow, in an office, leaning against a doorframe — even one in his underwear grinning at the camera. On the edge of each negative printed in slanted, handwritten characters were the initials and date. H.S. 1924. He quickly but carefully packed them back into the box and buzzed with excitement. He couldn’t wait to develop them to see exactly what had been captured in the images. It was a find that felt like a puzzle to piece together. H.S. was likely the man in the photographs as well as the owner of the suitcase. Who was he? Why had his suitcase found its way into Niall’s attic? Was he still alive and well somewhere in the world? A camera, a suitcase, and a relationship forged through time.

Know a Trick or Two | SadaVeniren | Harry Potter setting - mpreg - magic - kid fic - - genderfluid character - smut - intersex - 44k The night before Louis is scheduled for a Portkey to begin training with the Vratsa Vultures in Bulgaria he heads into Muggle London for one last night of fun. A few months later he finds out he’s having a child. Eleven years ago Harry had a one night stand and now there’s a strange man on his doorstep telling him his daughter is something called a wizard and she’s got a place at the British wizarding school Hogwarts. Aka the one where Muggle Harry and Wizard Louis have a one night stand and get more than they bargained out of it.

come away with me | suspendrs | Minor Character Death - friends to lovers - sexuality crisis - emotional hurt/comfort - anxiety - smut - 80k Louis had such big plans. He wanted so much out of life, and so did Amy. Now Bridget is going to grow up without a mother, and she’s always going to wonder what it would be like if this hadn’t happened. He wonders if she’ll blame him for her mother’s death as she gets older, or if she’ll understand that this is just as painful for Louis as it is for her. Louis doesn’t know how he’s going to raise her on his own, because he’s a fantastic father, yes, but he’s always been the fun parent, and Amy was in charge of the rules. He doesn’t know how to make sure Bridget has everything she needs all the time, doesn’t know how to make her favorite meal or how to do that one braid she loves to have in her hair or how to teach her to be the best person she can be. He doesn’t know how to live without Amy, he doesn’t know what he’s going to do. Or, Louis has to pick up the pieces of his and his daughter's life after his wife dies, and Harry is a beautiful stranger that just wants to help.

we made our promises (we said our vows) | millsx | Military AU - established relationship - kid fic - angst - hurt/comfort - mentions of PTSD - mentions of depressions - mentions of anxiety - injury - long-distance relationship - 21k Fairy tales always end with the Happily Ever After; the princess escapes her evil stepmother and gets married to the knight in shining armor. It turns out real life doesn’t care about Happily Ever Afters and sometimes problems appear when you don’t expect them to. Harry sure didn’t, not after years of being married.

Love, Ever After | jacaranda_bloom | a/b/o - farmers markets - soulmates - pining - miscommunication - fluff - banter - smut - 21k One would assume that the charismatic omega in charge of the local matchmaking service would have found a mate and settled down ages ago. His clients, in fact, are always a bit surprised when they come to learn that Louis is still single. But Louis doesn’t mind, not really. His standards are just high; he is happy holding out for his alpha, his soulmate, and chooses to not waste his time with anyone else, despite what his friends might think. That is, until his best mate from uni drags him out of bed far too early on a Saturday morning after a night of drinking to go to a farmers market, of all places. It’s there that he proceeds to make an utter fool of himself in front of the hottest alpha he has ever laid eyes on. There’s truly no coming back from that, is there? OR The one where omega Louis makes love matches, alpha Harry makes cheese, and meddling friends might finally make their dreams of finding their soulmate come true.

Hometown | allwaswell16 | High School - College/university - driving - heartbreak - memories - friendship - happy ending - angst - 2k On the day Harry gets his driver’s licence, he drives through the suburbs, heartbroken that he can’t drive home to Louis.

fever dream high | wildestdreams | friends to lovers - childhood friends - a/b/o - fluff - angst - smut - mutual pining - High School - 30k "Excuse me, what?" Harry licked his lips, carefully looking him in the eyes. "I will spend your heat with you so you're ready by Monday to play your game." "Harry," Louis began, suddenly at a loss for words. "I couldn't ask you to do that." "Why not? You just said you trust me." "You're my best friend. There's no one I trust more than you." "Then what's the problem?" "Well, friends don't usually help you through your heats or ruts, so excuse me for being a little skeptical." or A High School ABO AU where Harry and Louis are best friends and nothing more until things start getting a little complicated and they're faced with feelings they never wanted to confront.

We are the same, you run in my veins | 28sunflowers | a/b/o - non-traditional a/b/o- soulmates - wolves -pack dynamics - 4k When the time for Louis to become the Alpha leader of his pack comes, he can’t rise to the occasion for not being yet bonded. A series of trips to neighbouring packs in search of his soulmate is fruitless until he meets one of the other packs’ Alpha heir. Harry. The world seems to stop turning for a second and then it shifts, clicking into its axis. All the distress and wrongness he felt until that very moment suddenly disappears. Louis is finally whole. But two Alpha leaders from different tribes soulbonding is something unheard of before.

Divinely Blessed | thinlines | a/b/o - non-traditional a/b/o - established relationship - PWP - 17k “I heard you, Ni. But what do you mean?” “What do you mean what I mean?” Harry rolled his eyes as he shoved his alpha friend down onto a seat. “Did you mean you lick someone out or…?” “Nah, mate! It was me! I got licked out!” Harry could only stare at Niall in horror. Alpha Harry prides himself on having the bravest and most caring omega who might or might not just fulfill his sudden curiosity.

This chemistry like candy to me | CuckooTrooke | a/b/o - kink discovery - mpreg - male lactation - smut - 8k "It's just... Are you aware, that, uh... You're- You're kind of leaking." Harry feels his blood run cold. The heart that was thudding so loud and fast drops to his stomach, and his shoulders hunch in embarrassment. "Excuse me?" Harry asks once he manages to gather himself and recover from the shock. He automatically steps back but since he's already squeezed in the corner, it doesn't do much to put any distance between them, "Who the fuck do you think you are?" "Wha- No. Oh my god, I wouldn't- No," The man says as he realizes the misunderstanding, and wildly gestures to his chest, "I mean your- Your chest. Is leaking." OR Harry is 8 months pregnant with a poor balance and traitorous nipples. Unfortunately for him, that is precisely when he meets a beautiful alpha in a packed London Tube. Fortunately for him, the said alpha might just be the best thing he has ever come across.

[fava9]

The Beauty of MichaelAngelo’s David Sculpture

“David” by Michaelangelo is recognized to be one of the most remarkable sculptures in history as it represents the High and Politics Renaissance. This sculpture is a 17.0 ft marble Renaissance sculpture that was built in the 1500s and was placed in the Palazzo Vecchio where it remained until 1873. It depicts the Biblical hero David before his battle with Goliath, a first amongst famous portraits of David. He is sculpted to be standing still in a classical pose known as the contrapposto but he remains to exude self-confidence with the slingshot he carries.  

According to (Accademia, 2021), the sculpture was initially crafted in 1464 by two Renaissance sculptors, Agostino di Duccio and Antonio Rossellino. Unfortunately, the sculptors rejected the continuation of the sculpture due to the enormous amount of effort they had to put in in order to perfect the sculpture. This led the Cathedral of Florence to ask Michaelangelo to finalize the sculpture for their collections of tribunes. 

The structure on Michelangelo's statue was a unique concept. Despite the fact that the Biblical story on how David triumphed over Goliath was a popular subject in Renaissance art, Michelangelo’s sculpture depicts David before his battle. This is because during the Renaissance era, there have been famous works on David such as Donatello and Andrea del Verrochio’s bronze of David. However, both works capture David after the battle given that the sculptures hold the head of his killed foe. This is one of the reasons why it makes the sculpture unique. Michaelangelo strayed away from the common depiction of David’s victory over the Philistines. Instead, he captured David during the moments before his battle when he was in deep thought. It only confirms that David did not defeat Goliath with sheer force, but it was out of his cleverness with the usage of his slingshot.   

Michelangelo's David appears restless and battle-ready. His brows are furrowed, his neck is tense, as are the muscles in his nose and lips, and his eyes are fixed on something distant. Despite his attentiveness, he stands in a relaxed contrapposto stance where his sling lazily flung over his left shoulder. This strident stance and relaxed look are designed to portray the brief period of time when David is contemplating to fight.

Comparing Michaelangelo’s sculpture of David to other sculptors, his depiction of David is older.  For comparison the sculpture of Donatello’s David and Michelangelo’s David, differ in material that is used, Donatello makes use of bronze and Michaelangelo uses marble besides this Michelangelo depicts David to be older as compared to the young male that most artists depict David as (Richman-Abdou, 2021).

However what these two sculptures have in common is that both integrates contrapposto to their work. The sculpture of David by MichaelAngelo, we see that David leans on his right leg while the left leg is bent, we also see his left arm flexed towards him and his right arm resting on his right leg. This also reflects the balance that the sculpture has as it represents a living being and on the sculpture we can see which parts of the sculpture are ‘relaxed’ or have ‘tension’. The sculpture itself, however, is disproportionate as some of its features are slightly larger than the others, the head and hands are bigger compared to the rest of his body. (David by Michelangelo: Renaissance Marble Statue, Florence, 2021).  The sculpture also integrates scale as it stands at 17 feet tall, since its intended location is on the roof of the cathedral. 

Compared to the Michelangelo statue of David, well-known statues of David by Caravaggio ( David with the head of Goliath) and Donatello (“David '' bronze sculpture) focused more on the moment after he had slain Goliath.  Michelangelo is more interested in portraying David's reaction and movement before the fight. 

We now see the other side of the story before the battle. Michelangelo’s David looks stiff and ready at this apex of concentration. His eyebrows show anger; his neck stretches; his muscles in the lips and nose are somehow tight, and he seems to look at something in a distance. In comparison, he stood relaxed. The invisible sling carried over his shoulder shows us his victory is not won by force but cleverness. He decides to either fight or flight. Therefore, he demonstrates extraordinary self-confidence and concentration. His eyes are gazing and targeting his opponent. While male nude is seen in the Greek art of the High Classical Period, Michelangelo refocused his attention on the mental aspect of the story of David's victory against Goliath.

References

Accademia, 2021. Michelangelo's David: Admire World's Greatest Sculpture at Accademia Gallery. 

[online] Accademia.org. Available at: <https://www.accademia.org/explore-museum/artworks/michelangelos-david/> [Accessed 18 November 2021].

Visual-arts-cork.com. 2021. David by Michelangelo: Renaissance Marble Statue, Florence.

 [online] Available at: <http://www.visual-arts-cork.com/sculpture/david-by-michelangelo.htm> [Accessed 19 November 2021].

Richman-Abdou, K., 2021. Why Michelangelo’s ‘David’ Is an Icon of the Italian Renaissance. 

[online] My Modern Met. Available at: <https://mymodernmet.com/michelangelo-david-facts/> [Accessed 19 November 2021].

My Modern Met. 2021. Why Michelangelo’s ‘David’ Is an Icon of the Italian Renaissance.         

             [online] Available at: <https://mymodernmet.com/michelangelo-david-facts/> 

             [Accessed 19 November 2021].

[unabashegirl]

Where David and the reader have a tennis match and she beats him. LOVE YOUR WRITING BTW!!!!

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED 

—Sure! I am sorry it took me so long to finish! 

masterlist

“Are you actually recording this?” You exclaim as you watch him bring out his camera from across the net. Everyone in the squad has come out to watch the competition between the couple unfold. 

“I have to! Have you seen what you are wearing?” He asks just before switching on the camera and shoving it to your face. Your cheeks tint red as all of your friends cheer at you from the sideline. You are wearing a skirt and a tight top that accentuates your breasts making them look bigger than they truly are. The outfit looks cute on you.

You cross your arms across your chest feeling a bit self-conscious from everyone’s prying eyes. It feels nice having everyone’s attention you, but you are not used to it. 

“Come here and let me get a better look at you” He reaches out with his opposite hand. He wears a mischievous smile only causing you to feel hotter under the Californian sun. You carefully walk up to him, using the net as a barrier between you. “Remind me, why we haven’t played tennis before?” 

“You’ve never asked’ You shrug, rolling your eyes at him. “You always ask the boys especially Jason. Plus, I would had embarrassed you” He chuckles at your comment; amused by your sudden playful attitude. He is fond of this side of you. David rarely gets to see it especially in front of his friends. You are usually a giggling, blushing, and shy mess. 

“What are we betting on?” He purses his own lips making eye contact with you. “Jase — come over here”. 

“Are you sure you want to do this babe?” You probably shouldn’t be betting with the devil himself, but it all too tempting. Either way, what could go wrong? He is your boyfriend and he has proven to you that he would never hurt you. Plus, you would love to beat him at his own game. The simple thought is too satisfying to forget or ignore. 

“What’s up, guys? Are you starting or what?” Jason, out of breath asks, completely entertained by the idea that had been proposed by David. It was he, who had come up with it. It all started because you had brought your high school yearbook to show David your senior portrait. He had looked through it and found an old picture of you playing tennis in the varsity team of your high school. He was instantly fascinated. 

“We are betting on the game and we need a witness” David keeps his gaze on you. He hasn’t torn his eyes away from yours since you had approached. Jason throws his head back, laughing heavily at his friends. He can only imagine how badly all of this can end. 

“Fine” He exhales, “Are you sure this is smart?” Jason knows how unbelievably in love each of you is to one another and he would hate to allow this type of shenanigans to ruin anything. David’s lips part open, but before he can respond, you interrupt. 

“We are both adults...” You shrug, “I am sure we can handle it, right babe?” 

“Took the words right out of my mouth, baby” David smirks, “What’s it going to be then? — I already know mine” 

Jason exhales loudly and pushes his hair back as he feels the tension growing. 

“You go first” You shrug as you hold your tennis racquet close to your body. 

“If I win, then I get to blindfold you and put it on the vlog” A broad smile that reaches his eyes appears across his face. You raise your eyebrows and pull them together, breaking eye contact in the process. He knows what is your biggest fear, you had told him after he promised to never blindfold you. David watches your expressions and your uncertainty arising. For a second, he thinks you are going to back out of the competition. 

“Fine” You agree after you pull yourself together, “Then if I win I get to give you a haircut at home” It’s David’s turn to act surprised and scared. He hates getting a haircut and only allows one person to cut it — an actual professional. 

“That is not fair! The damage to my hair is permanent! And people will see it!” He complains followed by a slight laugh. 

“You are putting a live animal on me!” You fire back. 

“My hair is permanent!” David argues, “You love my hair!” 

“It will grow back” You roll your eyes, “You are such a drama queen” You and Jason laugh at him. 

“It’s still not fair!” You sigh heavily, not believing his cowardness. 

“Then I guess you better not loose” You raise an eyebrow and stretch out your hand for him to shake. 

“Fine. I don’t want to hear you whining or begging for forgiveness when I am done with you” David points at you and even if he tries to act all tough and confident in his performance —he can’t hide his sly smile. He takes your hand and gently shakes it before breaking off. 

“Good luck honey!” You yell out for everyone to hear as you walk back towards your right side of the court. 

“Beat his ass, Y/N!” Natalie yells from the side court followed by a few loud whistles. You can see David’s head shaking as his head is down. He stands diagonally from you, behind the baseline, dribbling the fresh tennis ball that he has just pulled out of his pocket. You do the same and stand behind the baseline knowing that his serves are long and fast enough to easily reach you. 

In matters of milliseconds, his feet rise from the floor and he swings at the ball in the air. The sideline goes quiet as they watch the competitive couple play against the other. The ball travels quickly and bounces exactly where you had predicted it, giving you the perfect opportunity to receive it and swing it back. David is too shocked by your agility and skills to swing back at the ball. The ball is out of bounce before he can blink. The sideline goes crazy, cheering and yelling for you, only busting your confidence. 

David bites his tongue and refrains from complimenting you and gawking at your ability to play tennis. He honestly just wants the game to end so he can take you home and have his way with you. In his defense, you are also craving the same thing. He looks too good in white especially when he wears his tennis hat backward. 

“Not bad, Ms. Y/L/N” He exclaims causing your smile to grow bigger. He walks across the court as he prepares himself to serve again. 

And so it begins again; the back and forth of the ball, from one court to another. The only prominent sounds come from the swinging, hitting of the ball, and their shoes being dragged against the floor. It’s a hot day in Los Angeles making it harder for the couple, but the two of you are too competitive to ever forfeit. On the sixth game of the third set, both of you are dripping in sweat. You had won the first set whilst David the second. This last game determines the winner but both can barely make it to the baseline without gasping for air. 

“This is ridiculous!” Corinna yells as she fans herself. “Just give up already David!” 

“Why should he give up?!” Jonah responds, “He has played just as well as Y/N”.

“His hair is going to grow back!” Natalie backs up Corinna as they all sit under the shade. 

“Tell that to his confidence if he lets his girlfriend win!” Jeff puffs as he leans over, his legs are spread out trying not to over sweat. “And don’t get me started on his ego”. 

“I think we can all live without a little bit of his ego” Zane rolls his eyes as he pulls his shirt over his head.

You and David look at each other from across the court. It’s the first time that you get a good look at him since the game has started. Everything is always so quick that it doesn’t allow you to have a good look at him. His hair is dripping wet, his hat even has a sweat stain from his forehead. His high cheekbones are tinted red, probably sunburned since he had refused to wear any sunscreen when you had offered. His lips are slightly parted just like yours; trying to catch his breath. 

He flashes at you a small smile as he wipes the sweat off his forehead. You look just as messy and sweaty. Your ponytail has gotten saggy. A few strands of hairs are sticking out in different directions. Your cheeks are tinted from the rise in temperature. You smile weakly at him as you feel his eyes on you. You can still hear your silly friends fighting from the sidelines. 

“Okay, let’s finish this” You stand straight up and make your way to your starting position. Once again, it’s David’s time to serve. Therefore you stand at the baseline and hope to win. 

The others finally quiet down as soon as David servers. His serve is a bit less strong due to his exhaustion. You run-up to the ball and hit it back with the only energy and stamina left in you. David runs up to the ball and hits it; aiming to the opposite side. Before you run-up to the ball on the other side, you already can see that it’s out of bounce. It touches the ground just a few inches out of the white line giving you the winning point. 

You look over at David who keeps blinking repeatedly, repeating the play in his head, wondering where he had gone wrong with his swing. A stupid mistake had caused him the game. His head drops as you walk back to the sideline in search of water. Zane is the first with his hands on you. 

“YOU WON!” He yells as he lifts you off the floor and spins you around. You laugh lightly when he sets you on the floor and hands you an ice-cold water bottle. Everyone who had bet on you hugs you tightly as you rummage through your bag for a hand towel and sunblock. 

“Thank you guys” You smile then make your way towards David who sits on the floor, looking defeated and exhausted. You use your cold water to wet the clean water while you walk towards your boyfriend. He looks up at him and gives you a lazy smile. “Hi” 

“Hey, baby. Congratulations”  You kneel beside him and take his hat off, revealing his messy, drenched in sweat hair. You take the water bottle and pour some cold water on top of his head, trying to refresh him and lower his body temperature. The last thing you need is for him to have a heat stroke. Jeff who sits nearby and the rest of the squad watches the interaction silently. 

You fold the wet towel and press it against the nape of his neck instantly making him sight in relief. 

“Hold it—right there,” You say as you open the sunscreen and squirt some, on the back of your hand. David remains quiet and just watches you. You gently apply sunscreen on his face. You know it’s a little bit too late, but it could prevent him from continuing to burn his face. Just when you are done you run your fingers through his hair, getting it out of the way and his eyes. “How do you feel?” You ask as you replace his hand, holding to towel for yours. “Can anyone bring me another water bottle?” 

“Better” He smiles, “You know— you are too selfless” His heart swoons for you and your kindness. “How come you always take care of me before worrying about yourself?” 

“Because I love you” You whisper as you watch him starting to recompose. “You take care of the people that you love” David smile grows, he reaches out and grabs your forearm. He tugs you down and presses his lips against yours. 

“I love you more” He responds after he pulls away. Jeff interrupts the sweet moment with two bottles of water. 

“Your hair looks great like that man” He compliments David on his slick back. 

“You better enjoy it and say goodbye to it cause it’s going” Jeff chuckles and shakes his head. “Y/N is cutting it”. 

“I’m actually not going to do so” His mouth hangs widely opened— shocked and somewhat confused. 

“But you won...” You shrug while you take a sip out of your water. 

“I wanted you to actually play as if I was one of the boys. I didn’t want you to let me win just because I am your girlfriend” You explain after feeling the satisfying contrast of ice-cold water running down the inside of your throat; cooling you instantly. “Plus, I love your hair”. 

“What the fuck am I going to do with you, Y/N?” A mischievous smile appears as he gazes at you. You only smile back at your boyfriend. Your plan had worked according to the plan. 

[grandhotelabyss]

Though I don’t really understand him or any other philosopher, I did enjoy writing a little essay on Heidegger after perusing the popular volume of his aesthetics, Poetry, Language, Thought. I took it as an opportunity to watch one of Michael Sugrue’s Great Books lectures since I’ve run across several references to them lately, most recently in David Perrell’s long essay, “Saving the Liberal Arts.” How do we save the liberal arts? Through Heidegger’s own most persuasive recommendation: to slow down and accept the human validity of what is not rationalizably productive. The legendary lecturer Sugrue is more skeptical, from what alternate ideological position I haven’t yet divined. (Does he criticize Heidegger’s crypto-religious discourse from the perspective of a believer or an unbeliever? In preference to Heidegger, he quotes both Eliot and Carnap.) For our audiovisual Monday, I offer you Sugrue’s eloquently prosecutorial lecture—and an extraordinary comment under it. A characteristically self-satisfied viewer accused the professor of mispronouncing Dasein in the French style, and Sugrue’s offspring, who appears to control the account, responded with a transcription of father’s brilliant riposte:

Dad laughed and said, "Yes, he right, and he doesn't even mention my other evils. I've always had an impulse to feign competence to Americans, despite the fact that their nuanced examination of academic lectures for creeping Frenchification left me open to summary judgement as a poseur. However, since the election of Mr. Trump and Mr Biden, proving competence to Americans seems a rather low bar to set, like jumping out a basement window. An inclination to undertake study with the Jesuits implies a well established cultural constellation prior to matriculation. Not just anybody applies to or gets admitted to a Jesuit school. Read Joyce's Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man if you need to find out how saturating such a Catholic tradition can be. One of the funny ironies of 20th century literature is found in Thomas Mann's The Magic Mountain with the character Naptha. Naptha was a Jesuit Jewish Communist who battled against Enlightened humanism in the person of Settembrini. Mann noted wryly that his friend, Georg Lukacs, the foremost Marxist cultural critic wrote effusively of Mann's novel to Mann himself, never raising and apparently never seeing the point Mann thought obvious: that the extravagantly contradictory Jewish Jesuit was a portrait from real life of Lukacs himself. The mad, self destructive casuist for a witches brew of mysticism and nihilism and bloodlust that Naptha turned out to be (in perhaps the greatest single scene in 20th century literature) could just as easily be modeled on Heidegger as Lukacs. Consider that Stalin spent only a year in a Orthodox seminary, but the influence of Orthodox culture is everywhere in his career. His cynical willingness to accept no limits on his pursuit of transhistorical ends situates in the line of pseudo secular political Gnostics: the Puritans, the Jacobins, the Bolsheviks, the Nazis, the Khmer Rouge. Mythically inflated political fanaticism gave both  Stalin and Heidegger a blank check for eliminative violence, drawn on a depraved indifference to human life."

“[P]seudo secular political Gnostics”: I’m no philosopher, but this, if I’m not mistaken, is the sign of a conservatism informed by Eric Voeglin (and though I have read Voeglin’s Science, Politics, and Gnosticism, I found it through a work of comic-book criticism by Peter Y. Paik). My own essay, by contrast, leans less on Heidegger’s political misdeeds and more on his failure to generate a properly poetic philosophy; I couldn’t help in the end but link the two faults, however, so tempting, even to me, is the thesis that bad taste is immoral.

[davidlynchschreibner]

A long while ago an anon asked me for Davenzi touch headcanons and as happened previously it spiraled out of control into a snapshot-style fic. I left it a long time but with other angsty projects in the works I think it is high time for a fluff break. I hope you enjoy!

A Love Song In The Language Of Hands

With a mother whose arms had always been open for him to crawl into, a boisterous extended family during summer holidays, and friends who drape limbs over each other with thoughtless ease, Matteo has never had any real cause to be touch-starved. Yet, he finds that he has become most spoiled by the ready availability. He asks for nothing but observes how his bones ache and muscles cramp if he goes too long without physical contact. It sates that twinging discomfort to feel a hand on his back, passing over his hair, flicking the round tip of his nose. As he submerges in the warmth he realizes how much he had missed letting it soak in. Readily he gives back, reaching with his hands as once his heart could not, and revels in the care he can exchange. But while the affections of his family both blood and chosen quench his thirst, David is a pitcher of water drawn from an abundant well and the shady cool of a shelter to drink it in. Matteo feels quickly parched for want of the warm press of his body and chapped lips sliding over any available skin. Where the hugs of his friends soothe an ache David’s touch is a euphoric pleasure. So he’s always groping around for it in daylight, artificial light, and darkness. They are teased for their relentless displays of affection but any potential embarrassment rebounds off him without even leaving a scuff mark. Matteo isn’t particular about the method or the mood of their touches but he always craves them. Even a playful slap is good if its David’s hand that’s connecting. He doesn’t have a reason to need like this. But every day he does.

They have equally restless hands. David is an artist and through his eyes Matteo is the first masterpiece he can touch. Not like the stylized saints or marble heroes which awe viewers in museums. Nor the beautiful street art that spills over high city walls and the crumbling innards of abandoned buildings. Matteo is low to the ground, spindly, undecorated when he peels off his many patterned layers. David finds him a perfect canvas that begs for sweeps of paint and ink. The smooth hills of Matteo’s shoulderblades and the sharp mountain range of his spine make a small world to populate with myriad creations. Matteo loves David’s art with oceanic depth and power; he is eager to be part of it. It begins with a bird, a question, and a pen. They both find David’s little portrait on Matteo’s shoulder immensely satisfying. Later, Matteo volunteers to trial a design David is debating for a character and all frustration evaporates as he works. David admires the design after, blows air across the non-toxic paint to dry it, and says only ‘perfect’. With this in mind, Matteo discovers an excellent way to vent stress. When the feelings inside make David feel his skin is stretched too thin Matteo offers for David to communicate in the way he does best--- with art. He works so delicately and diligently, unspooling all the tangled cares of his day and putting them where they are felt, acknowledged, and later washed away by the shower. Matteo lies still for however long it takes, occasionally humming a gentle query or a contented encouragement, until David is almost as relaxed as the puddle of boy beneath him. With an admiring eye the artist observes his work and the way Matteo shows through in the spaces between lines. He smoothes his hands over the fresh ink, uncaring of the way it smudges in places, and presses a kiss to the top of Matteo’s tawny head.

It didn’t take long for Matteo to learn he loves the springy curls of David’s hair beneath his fingers. In quiet moments he strokes tender touches over the pleasantly textured strands, meditating with abstract appreciation how beautiful his boyfriend is. David never lets anyone else touch his hair (would understandably bristle if they tried) but he allows even the most provocative of ruffles because this is Matteo’s love language. His hands are not mean when they tug, not dehumanizing when they reach, not careless when they accidentally get tangled. They can give in their turn the softest admiration and comfort that cards away all worry. The underlying love can be felt no matter what the particular delivery method is. It would be a lie to say that Matteo doesn’t take advantage of his unique permission. Whether it is a playful mussing, sliding his hands into the tight whorls in order to push away or bring closer the face he loves so well, or reverent strokes reserved for private moments, it’s a treasured indulgence. David has grown to enjoy lying pliant under gentle attentions. When they’re curled together in bed or on the living room sofa with a film playing on the television he becomes so relaxed beneath the steady passes over his scalp that he’s fallen asleep on more than one occasion. Matteo buries his fingers in the thickness of the top, rubs over the shaved sides, traces the fine wisps that frame David’s hairline. He loves every hair on David’s head and what he can say with the ways hands move over them.

It’s not a feature most people give thought to but David thinks Matteo’s forehead is particularly well suited to kisses. It’s one of his favourite spots made all the more attractive for being usually covered by tangled ribbons of hair. They tumble into his eyes and move across in unpredictable patterns that shift the slivers of skin between with every movement. Matteo’s forehead isn’t seen in full often but David never forgets the warm plane and the way it curves around his eyebrows. There is a variety of ways to kiss it, each one a silent message that David’s intuitive boyfriend is an expert at interpreting. A slow press still humid with the shared moisture of many kisses says a silent ‘I love you’. A hard smack planted while Matteo tries to dodge teases ‘you’re my favourite idiot’. A feathery brush is an acknowledgment of connection when it feels like there is not enough time in the world. The lingering kiss that rests long and is eventually replaced by David’s cheek murmurs ‘there’s nowhere and no one better than you’. There’s a short peck reserved for praise which makes Matteo’s cheeks dimple and glow more than any flattering words. Sometimes his brow is wrinkled with the swells of his stressors and David traces his lips over the lines until they relax back into smoothness. When David is otherwise occupied with the demands of school, work, and his activities for the student group he volunteers with he apologizes for not being his best self with a firm kiss to Matteo’s temple. They’re still discovering the endless vocabulary of forehead kisses. And they have all the time in the world.

For all that David once fashioned himself a vampire it’s really more Matteo that has an interest in necks. David’s pointedly and specifically. It has always been this way even in the swaddled months of winter, back when they were both hiding in too many layers of clothes and anxiety and David first stood in the WG’s kitchen stripped down to a low-necked shirt. Matteo is quite enthralled with the long lean line his boyfriend displays when he turns his head. His eyes trace the curve from a distance, track the way it bobs when David swallows, shine with contentment when they come indoors from the cold and he watches David unwind his scarf. It’s Matteo’s special place to lavish kisses of both the tender and excited variety. A butterfly-soft contact to reassure, a passionate mouthing in the heat of the moment, a slow press in place of those three precious words. It makes his skin tingle and tighten pleasantly when he runs his lips over David’s throat in the early morning and a patch of stubble pricks him. Sometimes he buries his face there, just presses into the curve of David’s throat and breathes him in. It presses safety into his nerves, the shape slim but solid like the trunk of a young tree, and fragrant with his favourite person’s scent. Despite the strength of it this is such a vulnerable location and they both know it. The skin is thin over blood and bone and he sometimes revels in the fact David is completely at ease beneath his touch. Never shies, never tenses, instead tilts his head in invitation and wraps Matteo up in the warmth of his arms and sunbeam smile.

It’s a very common occurrence to find Matteo lying against David in lazy cat-like fashion and this sight is the one which readily comes to mind. But this is not always the case. It’s fact that David takes immense pleasure in curling his arms around the relaxed borders of the person that embodies home. He would do so until they both surrender to inevitable eternity. But the times where he curls into Matteo and lays his head down are also plentiful. They instinctively relax each other and find the grooves where they can fit together. Sometimes David releases the mindful control with which he guides his life and lets himself dissolve. With a contented puff of air he rests the head so heavy with thoughts in all the dips and bends of Matteo’s body. They cradle him with wordless patience and support. Whether it’s the soft bellows of Matteo’s belly, the sinuous hammock of his shoulder, or the firm plate of his chest, David feels the weight of his skull absorbed as easily as an empty eggshell. Other times, he is thinking of nothing serious at all and feels anchored to the world by the grounding pressure against his head. He turns his cheek into the divots between ribs and listens to the metronome of Matteo’s breath. Or Matteo does something annoying and David lets his head lift and thump back in fond rebuke. Or gently, so as not to jostle their brains, David slots his head just beneath Matteo’s and feels them rest like stacked stones. David can always rest his head on Matteo and the same is true in reverse.  

Matteo is fascinated by David’s hands. They are useful in ways he loves to count and he thrills at what they can do. Yet they are not big or heavy with those abilities. The slim lengths of his brown fingers slide between Matteo’s pale digits like the tumblers of a lock clicking into place. Their palms are exactly the same size as he idly measured the first time they pressed together. Beautiful hands, he thinks, capable of both labor and the softest of touches. Long ago Matteo’s hands felt cold with emptiness that longed for another to enfold. It seemed perhaps he would never have that--- especially not from a boy. But David is always eager. In bed or on the street his fingers spread invitingly and prove ready to hook around Matteo’s. He loves those generous hands and how well they care for him. David knows when Matteo is anxious by the way his fingers twitch with the urge to fidget. The calloused pad of David’s thumb rubs soothingly over the nearest knuckle. If Matteo’s hand clenches suddenly tight he’s reaching his snapping point and David quickly places himself between whatever the trigger is and his boyfriend. When Matteo is wilting with the exhaustion of prolonged social engagement he slots their fingers together like a seamless mechanism, squeezes weakly, and David squeezes back in agreement. Then the former gets towed by the hand to an available space where things are less hectic. He’s tugged to lying his weary body against the strong support of David’s with their hands still intertwined. Their palms and fingers speak to each other with a language no one else understands.

Love can be expressed with roughness, David has discovered. He grins when Matteo shoves him across the couch, glares without real ire when teeth nip him, enjoys the way he can’t properly pin his boyfriend down because he fights dirty. The burn in his muscles when they wrestle is like a joyful flush. No matter how tenderly he’s cared for Matteo is still untamed. But that’s perfect--- David wants to be challenged and played with. Matteo pokes him in the side when he’s trying to focus and he slaps at the offending finger to make it go away, but it’s already been retracted in favor of an expectant expression that’s difficult to resist. If he wants to linger in bed (as happens every now and then) but Matteo wants to make breakfast he will seize David by the ankle and try to drag him off the mattress and even across the room should it come to that. They race each other and Matteo cheats to get ahead, but then David tackles him to the ground and they’re both yelling and laughing too much to go on. One day they are talking about something tedious and Matteo starts hitting him repeatedly with a pillow. With a frustrated growl David rips it from him and squashes the soft stuffing into Matteo’s face until he signals that he needs a breath. Even when David swallows it back because really he is irritated there’s always a sound of delight vibrating inside him. The other boy is a complete menace but it’s invigorating, lights him up inside, and is somehow more charming than good manners. His stomach jumps and then explodes upwards into butterflies when he’s given that devilish grin presaging some mischief. It’s not a delicate declaration of ardor but they are not fragile.

Their feet tangle and press when they lie together. Sometimes in the heat of summer cuddling is too sticky and they sleep sole to sole like sets of palms in prayer. Matteo loves thick socks, the fluffier the better, so the bottoms of his feet are kept smooth as silk. David began life running barefoot outdoors and his feet are calloused with years of pounding the ground, jumping, twisting inside his trainers so that the soles of his feet scrape. Matteo traces the arch of David’s foot with his toes and marvels at how the other boy is not at all ticklish. In the slanting light of another afternoon David balances a book at an awkward angle because their legs are wound together like a trailing plant and Matteo is cuddled under his other arm. Sometimes when they wrestle David seizes his boyfriend’s leg between both of his and holds tight against the wriggling and kicking as Matteo struggles to gain the upper hand. Eventually they declare a stalemate and lie panting with their limbs still twined. As their breathing quiets into sleepy softness Matteo burrows his foot beneath the edge of David’s trouser leg and runs his toes up the curve of the calf inside it, shivering as rough hairs brush against his skin. In winter Matteo’s feet are consistently freezing but David’s are always warm. They snuggle into the pile of blankets like two birds in the nest. Without being asked David stretches across the cool bedsheets and folds Matteo’s icy feet between the pleasant heat of his own. Like their hands, their feet are often holding each other.

The ways in which they affirm their love through touch are many and ever expanding. It’s impossible to count every expression and location and occasion. There are, David thinks, as many types of touch as there are words in the dictionary. Every one is listened to and remembered. Some spoken sharply, softly, slow and slurred, a burst of sound, an entire speech, staccato. They whisper in the dreamy dark and shout so suddenly it’s startling. Matteo has always been slow to find his words but he writes David beautiful sonnets with his fingers. David sometimes doesn’t know how to say what he is thinking but he can explain with the way he fits his body to Matteo’s. This language is foreign to some. But it is complex, evolving, equal, and most importantly theirs. They’ve had to learn it but it feels as comfortable as a mother tongue. When Matteo can barely lift his exhausted head let alone open his mouth he knows David will listen with his arms. On days that David can’t explain the feelings that throb inside his skin Matteo hears those thoughts through the head tucked beneath his chin. Sometimes they use words, sometimes they use touch, but they tell each other how much the other is loved twenty times a day. With their bodies they can talk, and talk, and talk.