#my only other tip is studying artwork from your favorite artists

[wave-nine]

Hi hi hi!!

I LOVE how you draw Papyrus, Would it be possible to get a tutorial or smth on how you draw him?

preferably with classic or swap, since I'm having trouble getting down how neutral or negative expressions would work with their kind of face

Helloooooooo!!!!! Thank you! :D

Sorry it's not exactly a tutorial, but just a rough step by step. I generally start with the eyes, then I do the overall face shape. I go fixing it as I draw in the mouth, then do the rest of the head and other details.

As for expressions, it might help if you draw it on something more familiar first. I'm more accustomed to drawing anime style people, so I'll use that as an example. Pay attention to the shape of the eyebrows, the eyes, and the mouth. It'll become easier to translate that into the way you draw these guys!

[starkiller-009]

Hello!! I love love love your arts. I feel like a lot of them have a sense of 'movement' which contrasts a lot of very polished artworks.

I love works with meticulously planned composition, layers, highlights, etc. I love works with a certain kind of loose yet purposeful application of value and colors. (The Two Cakes thing in the fandom). And I noticed that your arts belong to the latter category which I can rarely find!

If you don't mind me asking, do you have any artists or artworks that you're heavily inspired from? Do you draw on a pen-tablet, IPad, or other media? What application are you using? I feel like three questions are already too much for one ask so you don't need to answer them if you don't want to. I enjoy scrolling through your blog either way!

Hiiiiiiiiii dear anon!!! thank you soo much for sending this message! it made my day 🧡🧡🧡 Loose but thoughtful art is what im striving for so its really make me happy to hear that i have some success in that Answering your question i draw using some cheap old model of genius pen-tablet. Bought it 10 years ago as my first device. Still running. Heard a lot of shitty comments about quality of genius tablets at that time, but even more only about Wacom in recent years i think (fuck them. Wtf with pen's tips that are constanty erasing. For who this product is made for. Ew). as for the apps, i use clip paint studio, for studies - heavypaint (great thing). There are AMAZING artists on tumblr who inspire me heavily with their works. like. i follow ~400 ppl here. because i like to stare at art. so. im gonna talk about my favorites! @crowthis - king. queen. i dont know the pronounces sorry. they draw magnificent things i love their style SO much, its such an inspiration. sometimes i just visit their blog to go through art tag and experience all that beauty. (half of their wrks i have downloaded on my desktop) It's loose, quite 'chaotic', but SO atmospheric. The mood, composition, texture, everything. Themes. I like black and white drawings as much as the ones with colours, it so bright and blatant\bold in a way, but it works perfectly, it gives your the right sense of the work. Even tho usually i prefer more calm colours, it makes me go 'wow!' And their works looks really simple and intuitive but as an artist you know that haha no its fcking hard to do things like that. it takes skill and knowledge. loose work is tricky

@frozensoba - idk how much time i could stare at their recent fish drawings like jesus christ. i wish i could do that. i want to be able to do that. my ass is ready to work every time i see it and drawings like these really inspire me to draw simple things and non-humans bc i feel like you can draw beautifully everything that exists. you just need to know how. Colours, texture, rhytm, lines... everything on its place. I love colours especially. Its very gentle kind of harmony going on there, and the palette is huge, intricate.

@nerdyhideoutphilosopher-2 - going crazy over their works. honesty dont know what to say. go look and see. unique voice Artists id like to mention as well: @dynasoar5 - i mean. just go and look at that. i love how loose and messy kind of rendering is but it looks amazing. and overall. simply amazing drawings fuck yes @jadenvargen - just go and look at his works. i see no point in talking. simply beautiful. looks easy but also hard as fuck. the colours are so bright and rich and very bold but somehow everything is right on its place. it leads you where it should. just wow. the skill i respect @snippit-crickit - once again. beautiful. i really love their studies and how they render things, the colours. @sen-art-acc - LINE WORK. LINE WORK. go check it out. LINE WORK!!!! and i simply like how tidy and clean the drawings look like with colours. i cant do stuff like this. i have zero patience to be this accurate and precise. Also if you love loose artwork i should recommend you those artists for sure @shican, @dude-standin i love as well @wuntrum and @cordspaghetti works a lot. I followed both of them because mcr fanart i guess? tho never was into mcr and stayed for the drawings alone Also, if we're speaking about more "pro" (dont like this term either, forgive me) kind of artists i have some huge inspirations as well (tho my art not in any way reminds of them im afraid lmao. but i hope maybe in ten or ok 30 years or more ill be somewhere). There are a ton of artists i like, but its for another post i guess. To much talk. So here we go Sergio Toppi - he's an amazing at working with lines and composition. I have his comic books on my bookshelf. I open it everytime i want to get energy to draw. You cant look at his drawings and NOT to get inspired. He's incredible. The rhytm, the shapes... damn. i can look at his drawings for hours. And he was the main inspiration to work with lines and composition more, to play with it more. I dont have a lot of line-work on this acc (last quiobi drawing, some year\two-old dghda drawings, eugene one) but i actually exercise it a lot. Lines are extremely powerful tool. And as for composition... The shapes, negative spaces, love it. And he's extremely good at working with colour too.

Francis Vallejo - he's illustrations are so good... he's incredible with composition and rhytm his drawings have. Negative spaces, one again.

Anders Zorn - i adore his black and white graphic drawings. Angles, framing, line work. Spent a lot of time looking at his works. Cant get enough of it. The way he draws people, the plot, themes. What he chooses to portray, the way people look, what they do. There is such a special mood to his drawings, there is something extremely psychological about it, isn't there? he's a master im mesmerized by

Bernie Fuchs - composition, rhytm, once again. I love it when you want to look at something for more then 2 seconds, because the rhytm of the drawings leads you into different places and opens its plot in parts. No matter where you look u'll find something interesting and even though there is lot of going on its still not a mess and looks and feels fucking awesome. And i love his colour palettes too. He's very good at setting the mood (check out his less commercial works)

As for the colour here's a few i love. (Though they're still extremely good with everything else)

Hovsep Pushman - the man is a mystery. His work with colours, light and texture is beyond me. Also it has disco elysium vibe to it. I dream of being capable of something like this when im sixty or so (im not gonna be)

Mead Schaeffer - simple but powerful. Looking at his works like eating a tasty ice cream.

same goes to Dean Cornwell - though its a bit more complex, his composing. You need to pay more attention

I'd like to mention one other artist - Jamie Wyeth. his works are something else entirely, i dream of drawing like this one day. Loosiness, themes, mood. Ill probably cry if i see those ones in real life one day, somehow special to my heart, relates

He has these series - "Seven deadly sins". Ive been in love for some time

As for the inspiration drawings on itself - thinking about it im coming back to dragon age tarot cards. Not all of them, but i still go 'jesus i want to draw like this' at some, through years. This one especially.

Soooo Thats it i guess! I mean. I love to talk and talk about art especially. I probably could write ten more posts like this no problem. I actually heavily into landscape painters since... Well. Nature. Ice, oceans, sky. I sadly havent really tried to get into the genre myself, i do not draw lots of backgrounds as you can see. Should work on this probably, life's short. But im always happy to share my fav artists! So hit me up whenever. dm or send an ask! And a beautiful work for the ending

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

I Could Be Every Color You Like

October 3, 2021

Prompt - Full of Colors

Characters - Bentley and various others

Notes - This gave me so many ideas for one-shots.

“Why does that kid like art so much?”

He'd heard that question a lot over the years. It was a simple question and, to be frank, not many knew the answer. The youngest of the Murphy brothers was a chatty fourteen-year-old who was usually seen holding a pen or marker to something. It was only natural that people asked questions, he supposed. It wasn’t normal for people to walk around, drawing everything in sight, but that’s just the way Bentley was.

Bentley was an enthusiastic artist and had been for as long as he could remember. Of course, he usually did so for fun, coloring on napkins and such, but his art was always meticulously done. He’d learned to draw from his mom when he was really little. Miles recalled once that Bentley had drawn all over one of their bedroom walls when he was three, but his mom was so happy with how it looked that she refused to wash it off or paint over it. Bentley was just an artist through and through - it was what he was good at.

In school, the teachers that knew Miles and Royce expected Bentley to be just like one or both of them. First was the oldest - Miles, the hardworking, above-average student who had excellent manners and was part of both the automotive department and the school newspaper before graduating early. Then came Royce, the kid with straight A’s since kindergarten who spent most of his free time studying in the library or writing in a journal. But, when Bentley came along, their expectations went out the window.

Bentley was far more artistic than his brothers, doodling in the margins of his paperwork and turning it in, only to receive a note from the teachers, telling him to please stop. While he kept his grades up, even after Miles left for Florida, he could never seem to meet the precedent set forth by his brothers. His teachers tried to talk with his father about his attention problems and constant drawing, but the man never answered the phone. When he did, he’d answer in the same manner every time before hanging up - “Did he kill someone? No? Then leave me the hell alone.” After a while, the teachers stopped caring as much and left him alone, which was nice.

The only teacher he’d liked was Mr. Samuel Hatfield, his art teacher in middle school. The man was a giant at six foot seven but had the biggest heart in the building. He took his time with each of his students, making sure they understood what concepts he was teaching them and could handle their own. For once, Bentley could claim the position of teacher’s pet with pride. The teacher took pride in Bentley’s artwork, using them as examples for other classes and, occasionally, the upperclassmen who needed encouragement.

It felt good to be appreciated.

So, when Royce whispered to him one night in the confines of their bedroom that they’d set aside enough money to move in with their older brother, he felt torn. He desperately wanted to move in with Miles, far away from their father, but he also wanted to stay so he could continue feeling special for his art. It was all he felt he was good at and he loved feeling important, but his love for his brother outweighed that a million times over so his decision was nearly instantaneous.

The next day, after working his busboy job at the diner on the edge of Main Street, he took off on his bicycle for the art shop next to the library, using his collective tip money for the day - a whopping seven dollars and fifty-four cents, nearly triple what he usually got - to buy a small sketchbook and a discounted paint set. The rest of his money, he planned on pocketing. He and Royce would be leaving soon anyway, what did it matter what he spent the extra cash on now?”

The cashier frowned at Bentley as he counted his money, coming up just a couple of quarters short. He sighed, debating on which item he wanted to buy more. Just then, the door jingled next to him and he instinctively looked up, meeting gazes with his art teacher.

“Hi, Mr. Hatfield,” Bentley greeted quickly before turning back to his purchase.

“Well if it isn’t Bentley Murphy,” the art teacher greeted. “Why am I not surprised to see you here. Buying anything good, kiddo?”

“A goodbye gift,” Bentley claimed with a grin. “My brother and I are leaving town to be with our big brother.”

“Ah,” Mr. Hatfield exhaled. “Is this a gift for your dad or your older brother?”

“Nope,” Bentley exclaimed. “This is for me. Something to remember Myrtle Beach, I guess.”

The teacher nodded slowly, taking in the information as Bentley spoke. “So, where does your older brother live again?”

‘Uh oh. Too much info,’ Bentley thought to himself. ‘Don’t get caught. They’ll call the cops if they know where we’re really going. Be smart like RJ. Think, think, think.’

“California,” he lied in feigned excitement, sending his teacher a brilliant smile. “He moved there a couple years ago to be with a girl he liked who moved to Los Angeles.”

The teacher nodded again and smiled. “Well, since this is a parting gift, I’ll cover it, kid.” The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet.

“Actually,” Bentley began, “I think I’ll put the paint back-”

“Leave it, Mr. Murphy,” Mr. Hatfield stated firmly, setting down some money. “It's just some paint. I have no problem helping you to further your talents. Save your cash for spending time with your brother.”

The cashier took the money from Mr. Hatfield and bagged Bentley’s items before handing them to the fourteen-year-old. Bentley and the man said their goodbyes before Bentley went outside and hopped on his bike, riding quickly toward home. When he arrived home and found only Royce there, the two boys packed their bags and left not long after, leaving only a simple note in their place. The next fifteen or so hours were spent biking to their Uncle Tommy’s house - a man who had despised his sister’s husband since he’d met the man and had been encouraging the boys to leave. Once they arrived, they took the man’s car - with his permission and knowledge, of course - and took off for Florida. Ten hours later, they arrived pulled into the town, a sign with bold letters saying “Welcome to St. Pete Beach” being their only welcoming committee.

Royce pulled Uncle Tommy’s car into what they believed was Miles’ address, if his letters were anything to go by. They got out of the car and knocked on the door a few times before anyone answered. It was just barely eight in the morning so it wasn’t unexpected, but the anticipation was killing them slowly. Bentley was mildly surprised to see his oldest brother - who looked like he was just woken up by them - whip open the door, wiping his eyes a few times before pulling them both into a tight hug. They were shown to their room, finding it decked out in just about anything Miles had found that he’d thought they would like. To Bentley’s surprise, a brand new art book and some canvases were laid out on his bed, accompanied by various types of paints, markers, and pencils.

Their brother’s friends became family to them and they were accepted fairly quickly. Lela set aside time every day just to paint with him on the beach. Mick would teach him and his brothers photography in her spare time. Butchy took him and Royce for walks to the park so Royce could write in peace while Bentley drew in his sketchbook. Tanner took him to an art gallery on the edge of town just for fun. It was like being an artist was something to be proud of. Like there wasn’t any competition to have better grades or better abilities. It was an air of tranquility that the fourteen-year-old hadn’t felt since his mom approved of his artwork as a kid.

Over time, he began noticing the colors of people he spent the most time with. Whether it was the color of their eyes or in the things they surrounded themselves with or their favorite colors, Bentley saw them each in a different light. If he said them out loud, it would make sense to absolutely no one, but that was fine by him. He made sure it came across in his artwork instead of in his words.

For instance, Miles gave off rays of baby blue with a hint of red - calmness, safety, and love - so those were the colors Bentley used to draw his oldest brother with most. Royce was a brilliant, sunset orange - smart, vibrant, and playful - and it suited the middle brother better than he ever cared to admit. Mick and Butchy together were green with dashes of lavender, a colorful combination of love, strength, and balance - a source of protection and love that was unending and reliable. Lela was pale pink, full of innocent love for those around her.

So, when asked why he loved art so much, Bentley had only one answer to give: the colors.

[mortedeveles]

Perfectionist

SUMMARY: You had been caught up with your art for so long that you forgot about your school duties...but fortunately, your crush and friend Izuku Midoriya comes over to lend you a hand.

TW: nothing tbh? cursing and a bit of suggestive content? 

Genre: fluff, humor? just pining in general

Pairing: Izuku Midoriya x artist!gn!reader.

a/n-please read: i’ve noticed that my activity of likes and reblogs on my content has lowered recently. is there anything you guys would like me to write in particular? please let me know ^^ (i already published an aizawa oneshot and will be doing one for shigaraki later on.) as always, please leave a like, reblog, comment and/or follow me if you enjoyed! xx

If you could describe your art in one word, you'd choose the word perfectionist. It wasn't like you liked being a perfectionist, but that's just how you were. 

While some artists worked for recognition, fame, and others simply enjoyed making art, your case was... a little bit different.

When you did art, you strived for excellence. Perfect. Not one mistake. A smudge of dirt? Unproportional objects? It looks terrible. Think you can do better? You have to make it perfect.  That didn't mean you did art out of obligation. It was your favorite hobby, but your perfectionist tendencies with your art knew no limits. 

Though, you really wished that the perfectionist tendencies you had with your art would translate into your daily routine. Because outside of your art, you were a fucking mess.

You weren't the tidiest person, and your parents had given you hell because of that in your childhood. While you were responsible and kept your word, there were other instances where things slipped from your mind and you felt like the biggest, useless idiot in the world.

Today was one of those days. After a tiring school day from U.A, you retreated into your dorms, determined to spend the rest of your free time into your art.

You had rolled out your mixed media notebook, opened your soft pastel package and opened your laptop with a compile of several reference images, and got to work. 

Your artwork's inspiration was the one and only- Izuku Midoriya-, who happened to be your long term crush and close friend. 

His green hair sparked so many ideas and inspiration in your mind, you had to control yourself and pay attention in class and not drift towards his messy hair. His wide and bright green eyes made your stomach twist like an acrobat, making you feel like so flustered that your face would heat up to no end.

You let out a soft laugh and shook your head, deciding to stop all your endless thoughts of Izuku. It was time to focus on your artwork. You were about two hours or three into your work, blending with your finger and smoothing outlines when your phone rang.

A shocked gasp left you when you noticed the caller ID. It was Tsuyu! 

''Fuck!'' you cursed. You had forgotten that you were going to help Tsuyu out with a school project! Fuck, fuck, fuck!

''Oh my god Tsu, I'm so sorry-'' you began to apologize quickly, feeling shame and regret bubble in your stomach.

''It's okay, Y/N. Ribbit. Don't worry about it, Uraraka came over and she's helping me out. Though, you should start on that school project Aizawa-sensei gave you,''

Panic began to take over your body as your breathing became heavier and slower.

''Um, y-yeah. You're right. Th-thanks for reminding me, I'll see you tomorrow.'' You quickly ended the call and threw your phone on your bed. Muffling a scream, you began to pull at your hair as you walked in circles in your room.

''Oh my fucking god,'' you breathed. ''Why do I screw everything up?'' 

You bitterly stared at the incomplete artwork that sat on your desk, Izuku's bright smile staring up at you. You had been drawing Izuku in a sunflower field, but now it seemed that your project would be paused. 

Your choice had been based on the thought that Izuku was like a sunflower. He was beautiful, warm, and bright, and he would always face the sun. Determined to reach light and happiness. And where there wasn't any sun, he would reach out to those who surrounded them. Izuku was an inspiration- he would always help those in need, no matter who they were or the consequences he would receive. 

A strangled noise of sadness escaped you as you began to close and put away your art supplies. Once your desk was clear, you began to pull out your school materials. You glanced at the time and much to your dismay, it was 9 PM. 

It was so late! And you still had to write down that essay that Aizawa had tasked you with- the history and categories of quirks. 

''Oh god,'' the words left your lips as a weak whimper. ''How am I supposed to finish this and get some sleep?'' you sighed as you rubbed your temple. ''I guess I'll just pull an all-nighter.''

A defeated sigh left your lips as you began to write the essay, feeling your eyebags become deeper and more pronounced with each hour of sleep that you missed. It wasn't until three hours later that you heard a soft knock on your door. You jumped in your seat but made no noise as you approached your door.

''Who is it?'' you called out warily. Who in their right mind would visit your dorm at midnight?

''Oh, it's me, Izuku, Y/N!'' Izuku's cheerful and soft voice called out.

A bright smile took over your lips as you opened the door. ''Hey Izuku! What brings you to my dorm at midnight?'' you cock an eyebrow at him, smiling at his bashful reaction. 

''U-Uh, I just wanted to help you out!'' he stammered. The tip of his ears burned red and you chuckled. ''I thought you might need some help with your essay...?'' he cocked his head to the right and smiled sheepishly.

Eyes widening, you nodded vigorously as you opened the door wider to let him. 

''Of course!'' you exclaimed. ''Thank you so much! I was caught up with my shitty artwork, so I totally forgot about the essay,'' you huffed, shaking your head in disapproval. 

Izuku offered you a small smile and opened his mouth to intervene, but he was too late since you had already sat down and looked at him expectantly. 

''So, I have about a third of the essay done, but I'm not good in this area,'' you scratched the back of your neck sheepishly. ''Do you know about quirks and all that stuff?''

Know about quirks? Izuku nearly scoffed. He was an expert in quirks! His entire life had consisted of writing down notes, rambling like a madman, studying his favorite heroes, and their quirks. Quirks were such an interesting and diverse subject, how could he not know about them?

''Of course!'' he said with a bright smile. ''So we should start with the origin of quirks and that means...'' Izuku continued talking, but the way his eyes shone with passion and how his green curls bounced constantly had you distracted.

How could you focus on what he was saying when the mere sight of him left you speechless? 

''-N? Y/N?'' Izuku's confused expression snapped you out of your trance. You straightened your posture as you blinked and nodded several times.

''Huh? Oh, sorry Izuku,'' you smiled awkwardly. ''I got distracted.''

He nodded and continued to explain and this time, you tried your best to listen to his words and not focus on his bright green eyes. They shone like the most beautiful emeralds-

Stop it! you scolded yourself. Focus.

Once Midoriya finished his explanation, you had a decent grip and idea of the subject and the two of you began to compose the essay. Hours flew by as the two of you chattered and wrote down parts and bits of the essay in your notebook.

''Okay!'' you exclaimed. ''I think we have everything covered...now I just have to glue it all together and make it cleaner...'' your voice trailed off. Staying up late drained the energy out of you, and you could feel your eyelids drooping.

''Y/N?'' Izuku cautiously reached out his hand and tapped you on the shoulder. ''Are you feeling okay?''

You coughed awkwardly as you nodded and began to write down the essay quickly, despite the lack of energy in your body. You refused to meet Izuku's gaze.

''Yeah!'' your voice was unnaturally squeaky. ''I'm just a bit tired, but I'll get this done quickly.'' you offered him a quick smile before returning your gaze to the paper.

Midoriya nodded and stayed at your side as you wrote down the essay, much to your dismay. Now that the two of you were quiet, you became painfully aware of how close Izuku was. Your arms brushed against each other and his warm breath hit the side of your neck. You slightly squirmed in your seat. His breath made you ticklish.

The last thing you remember from that night is writing the essay but the more you wrote, the tired you felt and before you realized, you had fallen asleep on Izuku's shoulder.

The boy frowned when he noticed you had stopped writing only to realize that you had fallen asleep against him. His face reddened and his heart sped up. You were so...so...close to him!

Your body was so warm. With a shaky breath, he inched forward and made sure to not wake you up. Izuku figured that you had worn yourself out today, so he decided that he would finish your essay. He spent another hour sitting next to you, trying his best to replicate your handwriting and carefully choose his words to finish the essay.

Once he was done, Midoriya slumped back as his body relaxed. He carefully maneuvered around you and picked you up. Once he had laid you on your bed, he quickly turned off the lights and ran out of your room. It took him a lot of courage and strength to carry you and now his face was beet red. Izuku sighed loudly as he speedwalk towards his dorm. Your perfume was all over him and now he couldn't think of anything but you!

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

When your phone began to ring with your alarm, the first thing that you noticed is that you were in...your bed?

You groaned as you tried to collect your memories from yesterday. Midoriya was the first thing that came to your mind and a smile tugged at your lips.

The essay! You jumped out of bed and stared at the piece of paper on your desk, only to find it complete? Your eyes widened as you stared at the details of the handwriting. Midoriya must've finished it! you thought as you shoved it inside your backpack. 

''Oh man...'' you mumbled as you raced around in your room, preparing to head out for class. ''I have to thank Midoriya for this! He's so thoughtful...'' 

You raced out of your dorm and picked up your speed when you noticed that nearly everyone had already left for class. Once you reached the U. A building and spotted a familiar green-haired boy, you raced towards him and wrapped him in a tight hug.

''Hey, Izuku! Sorry for dashing in like this, but thank you so, so much for this! I owe you one!'' you continued to blabber and once you finished, you pressed a soft and tender kiss on Izuku's freckled cheek.

You pulled away with a wide smile.  Izuku's jaw had dropped open and he could only stare in you in shock as his entire face bloomed bright red.

''Oh! I'm sorry! Did I make you uncomfortable?'' you mumbled. You wrung your hands together and lowered your gaze to the ground. You felt your once ecstatic heart drop to your stomach. 

''No! No, no that's not it Y/N!'' Izuku's voice was squeakier than usual and you raised your head with a frown. ''Um, I'm very glad,'' he smiled softly. 

''Could you um...'' he scratched his head and lowered his eyes to the ground.

''Could you make it up to me with a-a da-da...'' he stammered several times. You grinned and tilted your head to the side.

''Do you mean a date?'' your grin grew wider when you saw his bashful expression.

''Yeah...'' he mumbled.

You giggled happily and pressed a kiss on his cheek. Izuku's eyes widened and you could sense the waves of heat from his face.

''I'll be glad to go on a date with you, Izuku.''

i hope you guys enjoyed!! have a good day! 

[emachinescat]

Murdoc + Ithika + Mac

A MacGyver Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 14 - “I didn’t mean it”

Summary: As an artist, Murdoc prides himself in taking his time with his work - he never loses control.  Except one time, with his favorite boy genius.  He always imagined that when he finally made MacGyver cry, it would be his finest moment.  Now, he’s not so sure.

Characters: Murdoc, Mac, Jack

Words: 3,454

TW: torture, broken bones, Murdoc being his creepy little self

Note: Happy Valentine's Day – the store was all out of chocolate, so I got you Mac whump! ;) The allusions to Ithika are from Homer's epic by the same name, but even more so from the incredible poem by C.P. Cavafy. The muse mentioned, Melpomene, is the Muse of Tragedy.

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this!

Ithika gave you the marvelous journey.

Without her you wouldn't have set out.

She has nothing left to give you now.

- From “Ithika” by C. P. Cavafy

Murdoc enjoyed taking his time.

He was an artist, after all, and artists didn’t slap together a masterpiece in an afternoon – not the ones worth anything, at least.  Most spent days studying their subjects, becoming intimately familiar with every line and curve and element – the shading, the lighting, the vibrancy of the colors.  The very best didn’t even consider touching brush to canvas until they had developed a personal relationship with their subject – for how can a true artist paint that which he does not know deeply?  Why bother recreating that landscape or tea kettle or sad-eyed little girl or bowl of fruit if it could be any landscape, tea kettle, little girl, or bowl of fruit?  Why would someone paint something that wasn’t theirs?

Murdoc knew his subject very well.  He, like a true artist, had studied it in a variety of settings.  He’d watched and learned, dug deep into the core of its being, drawn out every secret and motivation and loss and love.  He understood what made his subject tick.  He’d even done some brief sketches, practicing each brushstroke with care, waiting patiently for the day he could at last, intricately, evoke that muse sought by the Romantics, that evasive Melpomene, and breathe his masterpiece to life.  Or, more accurately, to death.

And now, after years of watching, interacting, teasing, sketching, his time had finally come.  Months of planning had been sunk into this particular endeavor.  And now, unlike the first time he’d been introduced to his subject, he hadn’t been commissioned by anyone.  This portrait was personal, deeply personal.  He finally had his subject right where he wanted it.  The canvas was bare and waiting for the artist’s touch.  Murdoc had chosen his palette, mixed the colors – it might be cliche, but he was a sucker for red, black, and blue.

Now that his moment had finally arrived, however, it didn’t mean that he could rush through the actual creation process.  The act of studying one’s subject matter was slow and deliberate.  So must be the painting.  

***

Murdoc studied his canvas slowly, methodically, unsurprised that it wasn’t exactly blank.  MacGyver stood, hands chained above his head, attached to a grate above.  His bare toes just reached the cold concrete below.  His jacket and Henley had been removed – he shivered slightly from the chill of the basement.  Murdoc liked to think it was from fear.  

“Oooh, this one’s fun, MacGyver!” Murdoc crooned as the blonde boy wonder eyed him scornfully.  It was quite entertaining how expressive his prey’s pretty blue eyes could be.  Murdoc briefly brushed the tip of his little finger against the scar of a bullet wound on MacGyver’s chest.  MacGyver jerked back from the touch, though his expression remained stoic.

“Jealous that you weren’t the one who did it, Murdoc?”  He sounded confident enough, but Murdoc knew his subject quite well by now.  MacGyver was shaken.  For once, he had no control, nothing to work with, no way to escape.  He was at his captor’s mercy – Murdoc could do whatever he wanted, and MacGyver knew that.

“Oh, it’s nothing compared with what I’ve got planned for you, Angus,” Murdoc simpered sweetly, circling his catch of the day, dark eyes darting across more scars and recent cuts and bruises.  He pressed directly into the dark center of a boot-tip bruise on MacGyver’s side, relishing the sharp intake of breath it elicited.  “Someone on your last mission in Volgograd left their mark, I see.”

He circled back around to face his victim, who did a subpar job of hiding his surprise at the observation.  “That was highly classified.  How did you–”

“I’ve been watching you for a very long time, MacGyver.  But you had to have known I would.  After all, you’re my closest friend, and I know where you live.  It’s kind of silly that you never moved, but maybe you just figured I’d find you even if you did.  I wonder – have you always tossed and turned in your sleep or is that a more recent development?”

True horror flashed momentarily in blue eyes, tugging Murdoc’s lips up into a satisfied smile.  “Oh, yes, your nightmares are very entertaining.  I do hope the majority of them are about me.  Oh, oh, oh!  And I especially love it when they’re so bad you have to call your watch dog to calm you down.  I wonder how Dalton’s taking your disappearance, by the way?  I’m sure he’s in for some nightmares of his own.”

“He’ll find me, if I don’t escape first.”  MacGyver’s bravado was both highly endearing and incredibly tiresome.  Same old, same old.

“Doubtful,” Murdoc purred.  “I mean, I know you well enough not to make stupid mistakes, my friend.”

“I escaped from the sewers, and you’d drugged me.”

“I intended for you to escape that day.  I needed to draw your friends in, to focus their attention on finding you while I attended to other business.  But this time – you’re mine.”  At the fervor in his words, a shudder entirely unrelated to cold clinked the chains restraining his victim.  Murdoc smiled, then continued.

“But now, there is no ulterior motive.  I grabbed you for no other reason than because I wanted to.  You are hidden away quite well, even more securely than last time, I’m afraid.  And you will not be left alone, not even for a second.  There may be things in this room you could use to escape, but they’re useless to you in your position.  And I am not going to take my eyes off of you.  You won’t have a chance to wriggle your way out of this one, MacGyver.  Ooooh, is that fear I see on your face?  No?  We really must change that.”  He tutted.  “Defiance and bravado really are your bread and butter, aren’t they, Angus?  What are you, an action hero from a cheesy 1980s TV show?”  Silence, though the fiery glare spoke more loudly than words.  

Murdoc clapped his hands together.  “Well, there’s no time like the present.  What do you say, MacGyver?  Let’s get started.”

***

Three hours later, Murdoc admired his work.  It was a slow process.  He painted with precision and care, layering the colors just so, balancing the strokes, the lights and darks and brights.  His brushes were many – laid out on the table before him were knives and pliers and blow torches and hammers and whips and cattle prods and other more specialized tools that he liked to work up to.  He also had an oversized meat tenderizer, made of steel.  He rarely used it – too garish for his refined tastes – but it did look nice and scary looming over the other instruments.

So far, he’d only used his knives and the cattle prod.  The masterpiece was starting to come together, but it was hardly complete.  He prowled around his artwork.  MacGyver’s trembling had increased.  He gasped for breath as Murdoc appraised his work – burns and cuts, some deeper than others – made a nice foundation.  The drip of blood across bare flesh outshone any Pollock painting.  He’d practiced his blending techniques, jabbing the cattle prod directly into the center of the lovely bruise he’d noticed earlier.  MacGyver hadn’t been able to hold in his yell of pain.  

Music.

“Are you enjoying our time together?” Murdoc asked.

MacGyver uttered a creative string of curse words that made Murdoc proud.  He whistled appreciatively.  “Who knew the boy scout had that in him?  I’m almost impressed.”

“Yeah, well,” MacGyver said, hissing as he shifted and pulled at his many wounds.  “Almost is about all you’ll ever be, Murdoc.”

Murdoc had been reaching for his trusty pair of pliers (those toenails could sure use a trim!).  He paused, his back partially to his captive, fingers hovering over the tool.  He was used to MacGyver’s sass, but what he’d just said hit a sour note that the hit man couldn’t shake.  He didn’t know if it was the tone or the words themselves.  “Excuse me?”  He tried to sound amused, but his voice was tight, as if it had been squeezed out of him.

A clink of the chains, a grunt of pain that didn’t lighten Murdoc’s mood as it should have.  Then, MacGyver elaborated.  His voice was clipped in pain, breathless, but conviction lined every syllable.  “You are doomed to live a life of almost, Murdoc.  Nothing is ever going to be enough for you.  Why do you think you take so long to get anything done?  Why do you spend so much time talking and taunting and watching and waiting?”

Murdoc didn’t move, his hand still inches away from his delicate instrument that caused pain but did no lasting damage.  “I’m an artist.”

“You’re afraid.” 

“I fear nothing.”

“You fear winning.”

Murdoc laughed, a forced, uncomfortable sound that he’d never heard come from his own mouth.  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, Angus.  Are you sure the pain isn’t getting to your head?”

MacGyver pressed on relentlessly.  “You crave attention.  You need a challenge.  That’s why you picked me.  And you’re afraid of what happens if you beat me.  If I die, there’s always that possibility that you won’t find another playmate.”

Still, Murdoc didn’t move.  His words, despite their teasing jaunt, had a forced quality to them.  “Awfully full of ourselves, aren’t we, MacGyver?”

He could hear the triumphant smile in his adversary’s voice.  “I’m just stating the truth, Murdoc.  You might torture me, you might have your fun.  But at the end of the day, you’re going to slip up somehow.  It’s your way of making sure the game goes on.  Without that challenge, what are you?  Just an angry voice screaming at the sky, no purpose, no point.  You say you’ve studied me, Murdoc.  You’ve watched me and know me.  Well, in doing so, you’ve shown me yourself, too.  You’re not going to kill me today.  You’re never going to kill me.  

“I don’t know what exactly I’ve done to deserve this… honor,” he continued, placing particular derision on the last word, “but you’ve become obsessed with me, Murdoc.  Believe me, I don’t like saying this any more than you like hearing it.  But it’s how I know I’m going to walk away from this.  If I’m gone, so is your fun.”

Murdoc prided himself on maintaining control over his emotions.  An artist, though he might express the inner workings of his soul on canvas, could not let his feelings control the brush, control him.  Look what had happened to Van Gogh – sure, beautiful work, but his emotions controlled him, destroyed him in the end.  Murdoc didn’t make mistakes like that.  He waited.  He didn’t lash out in anger.  It wasn’t because he wanted MacGyver to live, oh no.  His fondest dream was to see the blonde boy cry, to watch him squirm and beg for mercy, and then, finally, only when he’d really begged for it, to send him to his death.  MacGyver had no idea what he was talking about.  

It wasn’t even MacGyver’s words, his cocky belief that he was important enough to his torturer to keep alive, that sent Murdoc over the edge.  It was the tiny little voice, way back in the darkest, most depraved corner of his already dark and depraved mind, the one that spoke not in the voice of Murdoc, but one that sounded more like Dennis, the first casualty of Murdoc’s career – himself.  The voice said, plainly, without emotion, You know he’s right.

And that was the catalyst for the tsunami of rage that crashed into Murdoc, pummeling his well-practiced and unshakable resolve to take his time.  That was what spurred his frozen body into movement, curled his fingers around the handle of the meat tenderizer, that brash, archaic tool, rather than the pliers.  That was what spit his next words out of his mouth as if they were poison, words that finally – beautifully – caused Angus MacGyver’s eyes to widen in real fear: “You are going to walk out of here?”  A sadistic, mad giggle.  “My dear Angus, it will be a miracle if you ever walk again.”  

He hefted the heavy steel implement in his hand, pulled back, and lunged.  MacGyver tried to back away, the chains around his wrists cackling and clicking against one another in his desperation.  They held firm, and the meat tenderizer slammed full force into MacGyver’s left kneecap.  Murdoc felt the crunch of bones.  He heard the bestial howl, the scream of anguish, the body-jerking, breath stealing cry of a man in so much pain he lost himself.  He watched MacGyver’s face drain of color, recognized the moment when the pain became too much, and saw the tear-streaked face go slack, the chin thud against the battered chest and stay there. 

For a moment, Murdoc experienced the euphoria one could only find in hurting that special someone in such a catastrophic way.  He relished in that moment the scream, the agony, the writhing and loss of control.

Then the moment ended – and far too soon.

Immediately after, the weapon dropped out of Murdoc’s limp fingers.  It smashed into the floor below, with the jarring clang that only metal on concrete can produce.  He looked at the limp, hanging form before him, and something twisted inside of him – a feeling he’d never known.  It wasn’t guilt, nor revulsion.

It was, however, regret.

He didn’t understand it.  He should be overjoyed.  MacGyver was completely at his mercy.  Murdoc could kill him now.  Carve that bleeding heart out like a villain in a fairy tale would.  But then, he realized, MacGyver would be gone.  Forever.  Even now, his kneecap had been crushed, shattered into tiny fragments of bone and cartilage, and unless he got treatment of the highest quality, and soon, he’d almost certainly be crippled.  Even if he had extensive reconstructive surgery, his career as a Phoenix agent could still be over.

Wasn’t that what Murdoc had wanted?  To end MacGyver’s pesky existence, to win at this game of cat and mouse?  To create his most spectacular masterpiece with his greatest enemy?  That’s what he had dreamed of for years now, what he’d studied and practiced and yearned for.  And yet – 

What was it that hoity toity Greek poet had written?  Murdoc had read “Ithika” long ago, a random page in a poetry book of a man he’d killed.  For some reason, the poem had attached itself to his mind and never let go.  He could remember it even now:  

Keep Ithika always in your mind. Arriving there is what you’re destined for.  But don’t hurry the journey at all.  Better if it lasts for years, so you’re old by the time you reach the island, wealthy with all you’ve gained on the way, not expecting Ithika to make you rich.  Ithika gave you the marvelous journey.  Without her you wouldn’t have set out.  She has nothing to give you now.

And he understood.  The poem was supposed to be inspirational, for fools so focused on their goals that they missed the journey of life along the way – a mundane, silly sentiment.  But now Murdoc could see – MacGyver’s destruction was his Ithika.  Perhaps Cavafy had a point – maybe he had been a bit of an artist himself.  And MacGyver had been right about some things, wrong about others.

He was right in that Murdoc wasn’t ready to end the game just yet.  But it wasn't fear that held him back, that urged him to take his time.  It was joy.  Joy of the journey.  The little pleasures of life that are so often passed by in the grand scheme of things – the poet had been speaking of knowledge, of friendship, of love, of experiences.  Murdoc’s little pleasures were things like fear, drawn-out suffering, playing with his food and watching it squirm.  He relished that joy.  He wanted more of it, and if MacGyver died, or was out of commission as a spy, that joy would diminish.  Even if MacGyver lived, it wouldn’t be the same if he couldn’t fight back, couldn’t play along.

Murdoc made his decision.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a burner phone.  He dialed a number he’d memorized long ago, put the phone to his ear.

A fierce Texas twang answered before the first ring had run its course.  “Murdoc, you son of a bitch–”

“Temper, Jack,” Murdoc drawled.  He shivered in excitement at the mental picture of the inferno in Dalton’s eyes.  “You just assumed it was me – imagine if it were your mother on the other line.”

“I can scent the devil from a mile away.”  Murdoc heard muffled voices in the background, knew the call was being traced.  

“Don’t waste your time running a trace, you grumpy old hound dog.”  His words were light, yet he allowed the slightest hint of urgency to infect them.  “I’ve had my fun for today.  I’ll text you the address.”  He paused.  “Oh, and bring one of those fancy whirly-birds you like to use for medical emergencies.  I might have been a little… over zealous this time.”

He closed his eyes, gorging on the incalculable levels of hatred in Jack Dalton’s next words.  “If you hurt him–”

Appreciation turned to irritation.  Murdoc rolled his coal eyes to the ceiling.  “Weren’t you listening, you brute?  Obviously, I hurt him.  Quite a bit actually.  You should have heard him scream.”

A short silence.  Then – “You didn’t let me finish, you overgrown sewer rat.  If you hurt him, I am going to tear you limb from limb.  I don’t need any of your fancy tools.”

“Hmm, that was almost intimidating,” Murdoc teased in his most good-natured tone.  “But you’ll have to find me first.”  He let the words linger for just a moment, then continued: “Anyway, ta-ta for now.  I’ll text you the address.  I’ll be long gone by the time you get here, but feel free to bring all your little friends for a game of hide and seek.  Though I have a feeling that you’re going to be more focused on sweet Angus.”

He hung up, texted the address, then turned to a feebly stirring MacGyver.  Pity he was waking up right as Murdoc had to leave.  Whimpers that would have torn the very soul out of Jack Dalton erupted unbidden from MacGyver’s lips.  Glazed blue eyes cracked open, regarding Murdoc with a mixture of terror and acceptance.  Though he had regained consciousness, MacGyver still hung limply from the chains, too weak and in pain to move.

Murdoc stepped forward, eliciting the tiniest of flinches  Even that motion made MacGyver cry out.  But Murdoc didn’t hurt him again.  Instead, he said, “Your friends are on their way.”

MacGyver’s voice rasped in the aftermath of his screams.  “You’re letting … me go… Why?”  

“Got bored, I suppose.”  No way was Murdoc going to let MacGyver know he’d been right, even if only a little bit.

MacGyver didn’t respond – maybe he didn’t know how to respond; more likely, he could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words, amidst the torrent of pain.

Murdoc started to step away, then turned back, studying his latest draft of the elusive masterpiece that he would continue to dream about and that would fuel his passion and creativity for years to come.  He pulled off one black glove, placed his hand on a pale, cold cheek.  MacGyver jerked back feebly from the touch, grunting at the pain it produced.  Slowly, Murdoc wiped one of the fresher tears away with his thumb.  It might have been a power play.  It might have been a show of comfort.  Even the hit man didn’t know.  He glanced down at the shattered knee, swollen and misshapen, a grotesque monster straining to break free from the unrelenting fabric of the khakis.

“For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, moving his gaze up from the deformed knee to lock his black eyes with fearful, anguished blue ones, “I didn’t mean it.”

He walked away, casting one final look over his shoulder before he left his art behind for the coming Phoenix agents to admire.  “Until next time, MacGyver.”

And despite the extensive search conducted by Phoenix once MacGyver had been loaded onto the chopper, on his way to the best orthopaedic surgeons in the country, Murdoc had once more disappeared, like a ghost.

That night he dreamed about his Ithika, and this time, it was enough. 

[iwannaholdyoutight-]

SUNLIGHT

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

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

Find my masterlist HERE

Find the Pinterest page for this fic HERE

Somewhere in Italy, 1978…..

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

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

Fucking amazing, right?

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

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

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

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

Thank god she knew both. 

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

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

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

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

“I’m glad. And please, call me Lav” 

“Of course. Ready to begin our training?”

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

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

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

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

“Nice. But who is Harry?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She opened a huge smile 

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

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

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

“And how many pieces are we hoping for?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 She gave him an awkward smile. 

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Styles”

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

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

“I thought I was going to write this” 

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

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

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

Harry laughed. 

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

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, I’m waiting outside” 

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

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

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

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

“Kinda. Never been on a motorcycle before” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

Day 2: Woman with the black stockings 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

H.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not having sex with you”

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

“Fuck me”

“No, fuck me” 

“Fuck me” 

“No”

“Fuck me”

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

.

Day 3: Jupiter and Aphrodite

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s beautiful”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But we weren’t going to…”

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does he ever want to sleep alone?”

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

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

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

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

“You know, I can’t help it”

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure, what time?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I never heard of him ‘till today” 

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

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

She looked at him with wide eyes and open mouth. 

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

.

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

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

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

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

Along with the cherry trees came hopeless sorrow

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

Dreams of you erupted in my waking 

My broken heart is still yours for the taking 

When you met him, did he called you ��cherri�

When you kissed him, did you remembered me? 

And when you left me

Did you feel like you were finally free? 

But don’t you call him baby 

Don’t you dare 

To call him what you used to call me 

But don’t you call him baby 

Don’t you dare

To call him what you used to call him 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So Lavignia almost screamed without having second thoughts: 

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

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

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

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

She needed Jeannie Lovelace. 

.

She knocked one time. 

Nothing.

Another.

Nothing.

One more time and Lavignia would go home and pack.

The door was opened. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m a Libra” 

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

“Because you stayed”

.

Day 5: sunlight 

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe … she could? 

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

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

This is a story about my journey. 

The one where I found and lost love. 

But I found myself. 

Do you know who you are? 

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

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

Adoration 

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

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

Please, let me adore you

I adore you 

I love you 

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

The fruits of your body 

From the tangerine smell of your body 

To the dreams I have of your lipstick 

It’s strawberry lick, isn’t?

From the way you hold my body 

To the way you make me love it

It’s sultriness, isn’t? 

From taste of watermelon 

That slips all the way down your legs 

I suck it all up. Don’t I? 

From the way you make me grow

To the way you make me shiver 

I’m at your feet

Yours. 

Yours while you’ll have me. 

Yours. 

As long as the fruit season lasts. 

I hope it lasts forever

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

But how? 

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

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

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

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

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

Her body. Her pleasure. Her orgasm. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was ready. 

.

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

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

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

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

And she was alone again. But not for long. 

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

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

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

“You came” 

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t know. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“After this, maybe?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

“I thought you were going to ditch me” 

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

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

“What was the message you took from everything?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You seem like you want to ask me something”

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

“Of course I wanna get to know you.”

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

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

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

“Always.”

“When are you going to kiss me?”

“When I’m finally inside of you”

“And when is that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded her head. Affirmative. 

“Which one?”

“The one about the fruits”

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

“Why don’t you?”

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

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

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

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

She nodded her head. A negative. 

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

“Won’t people hear me?” 

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

Fuck it 

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

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

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

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

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

And she came.

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

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

This was only the start of tonight.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You made me a promise early tonight…” 

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

“You said you were going to kiss me…” 

“I was going to kiss when…” 

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

“That’s my girl, come up”

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

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

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

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

“Why are you on your knees?” 

“Because I’m going to pray”

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

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

“Is that the 1910 painting by Luigi Russollo?” 

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

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

“It’s too hot” she said is a whisper 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi” she said 

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

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

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

“Please, I want to feel you” 

“Okay” 

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

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

“No underwear?” 

“It gets in the way” 

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

“A few times, almost five years ago” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Heeeet, that’s mean” 

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

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

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

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

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

Good morning, bunny 

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry I didn’t...”

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

Lavignia started to walk towards Harry but he stopped her: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I would like that” 

“So, can I take you out on a date?” 

“Isn’t this a date?” 

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

“Okay. You can take me on a date” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And third. 

And forth. 

The end

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

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

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

Anyway, I hope you guys like it!

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

Can you do a , smug and mean character of your choice, Z?

Anon, did you want me to write about Sengoku Ryouma? Because this is exactly how you get Sengoku Ryouma. (Kureshima Takatora is in here too, not that he’s at all smug or mean.) Z is my choice, so

C is for colors--and, if you’d also like musical accompaniment, M is for music and “you should see me in a crown,” by Billie Eilish, is available on Spotify and YouTube.

The first time Ryouma agrees to share a meal with Takatora, he brings a sketchbook with him. He’s drawing when Takatora approaches the table, in fact, drink in one hand and pencil in the other, intent on his work until he realizes that he’s not alone. Then the sketchbook closes, but not before Takatora can catch a glimpse of what looks like a cross-section of a plant. “What are you drawing?”

A smile like lightning--Takatora finds himself briefly wondering when the thunder will hit, and what might be burned to ashes in its wake. “Vegetation from Helheim. I’m exercising my botanical illustration muscles. I don’t imagine you’d be much interested, though.”

“No, no, I’m actually very curious. Your scientific work intrigues me as it is; I didn’t know you were also the artistic type. May I take a look?”

Ryouma gives him a look which might be considering or might just be shy; Takatora doesn’t yet know well enough to be able to tell which. “If you’re really interested...” He slides the sketchbook across the table. “Look away.”

They end up losing half of lunch to Ryouma’s drawings, Takatora turning pages in rapt fascination as he examines the fractal layout of crystalline seeds within those ever-dangerous fruits, the labeled diagrams of alien plants, the beautifully watercolored illustration of a Helheim vine overtaking a maple tree. Ryouma is delighted to explain them, his soft voice making it more an intimate conversation than a lecture. One pen sketch is so shockingly realistic that Takatora nearly reaches for it, wanting to see if he might pick a fruit directly from the page, only to pull his hand back before he can risk smudging the ink. “I think these might be almost as dangerous as the real thing, Dr. Sengoku.”

“Oh, please.” The lightning smile comes back, and this time Takatora is certain he can hear the rumble of thunder in the distance. “I may not have a lot of friends, but the ones I do have all call me Ryouma.”

--

Ryouma’s insouciant smile and elaborate courtesy tend to strike others as at least mildly disrespectful, if not outright rude. Takatora, of course, knows that it’s just how he is, that he doesn’t mean anything by it. The sketching during R&D meetings is a little irritating, but after the first couple of times it comes up he finds that the scratching of the pencil is oddly soothing, enough that finally he gives into the temptation to ask again, “What are you drawing?”

One of the other researchers rolls her eyes when she hears this, but Ryouma just smiles. “Lockseeds, of course.”  He holds out his sketchbook for Takatora to take. “I think I’ve designed, hm, at least fifty at this point.”

The sketchbook is open to an exploded mechanical diagram, far more complicated than Takatora is prepared to try to make sense of. He tries anyway, nodding absently as the other researchers start to trickle out of the room, squinting at Ryouma’s tiny labels. “Fifty? Do we need to many?”

“Well, Takatora--” the last researcher heading out the door huffs irritably at Ryouma’s casual tone, “I don’t know about you, but I certainly can’t live on oranges alone. And they’ll do different things, of course, once I’ve perfected the driver designs. What’s your favorite fruit again?”

Takatora blinks. “Melon. I really only eat it at breakfast, but I do like it best.”

Lightning strikes. “Wonderful, I did remember correctly. Turn back a few pages--yes, there.”

“This is...a Melon Lockseed?”

“Yes, do you like it?”

The sketch is colored in with pencils, and it’s--beautiful, in the strange way that all of Ryouma’s creations are beautiful. “It’s lovely.” Takatora reads over the notes along one side. “I...’authorized by providence,’ Ryouma?” He raises his eyebrows. “What is?”

“You are.” Ryouma bows, one hand on his heart and a mocking smile on his face. “You’re the prince, aren’t you? I thought perhaps you deserved the reminder. And I am merely your humble advisor.”

“I don’t think there’s ever been anything humble about you, Ryouma.”

“Maybe not. I am very good at what I do, I don’t see any reason to lie about it.” A pause, and then Ryouma cocks his head to one side and the smile goes from mocking to teasing, sly and friendly. “I may have some melon at home, if you’d like to come over.”

“...for...breakfast?”

“Well, yes, eventually.”

Takatora feels his face go hot, and hopes he hasn’t turned too pink, and then furthermore hopes that no one else is lingering outside the conference room door as he says, “That sounds very nice.”

--

There are more armor designs than will probably ever get used, and Takatora says so. “Why so many?”

"I enjoy designing them. Although of course most people won't get to see more than the very basic one." Ryouma is settled comfortably against his shoulder, sketchbook balanced on one pulled-up knee. "I'm not going to share my best art with just anyone, you know."

"Oh, no?" Takatora cranes his neck to see the sketchbook over the top of Ryouma's head. "How are you going to manage that?"

"A series of if-then statements in the Sengoku Driver. They have to be able to scan the user's body and brain, you know, to do what they do; I don't see why I shouldn't have them test for particularly desirable personal qualities at the same time." Ryouma's pencil dances over the page. "For example, if it were to detect, say...hm." A sly glance upward at Takatora. "A noble soul, a cutting intellect, clarity of purpose, and oh, let’s say an offensively nice ass, it might produce...something like this."

He holds up the sketchbook, so that Takatora can finally get a proper look at it--a samurai, sleek and elegant but with a science-fiction edge. “This is...armor for me?”

“Roughly, this is a preliminary.”

“It’s beautiful.”

The smugness radiates from the line of Ryouma’s back against Takatora’s arm. “Thank you, I’m very pleased with it.” The sketchbook and pencil go on the bedside table, and then Ryouma turns around looking even more sly. “Of course, I’ll need to tailor the design to suit you better. I think I’ll need to make some figure studies, you’ll have to pose for me.”

Takatora raises an eyebrow. “Naked, I’m sure.”

“Oh, naturally, I’ll want to make a detailed study of your best qualities.”

“I think you said something about an offensively nice ass?”

“I am an artist, I want to display my subject to best effect.”

“So I’m your subject now.”

Lightning-flash smile, and Ryouma runs his fingers down the side of Takatora’s face, tips his chin up as if to study his profile. “No more and no less than I am yours. I ought to draw you with a crown on your head.”

--

When Takatora wakes from the coma--is woken from the coma, by the grace of a power he suspects he may never entirely understand--it still takes another two weeks before he’s discharged from the hospital and declared fit to go about whatever business he may have, and one of the first tasks that confronts him is the disposition of Ryouma’s notes. He can’t possibly ask Mitsuzane to take care of it, wouldn’t even want to mention the man’s name in his brother’s presence. Ryouma was, in the end, his fault and his responsibility. This is his cleaning up to do.

Mostly it’s straightforward. The laboratory equipment has already mostly been confiscated or destroyed; researchers and technicians have already scoured his computer files. It’s just the actual papers that are left to take care of, organized by some system that only Ryouma himself and perhaps Yoko ever understood, box after box of them. Takatora embarks on the project with four helpers--two from the Ministry of Internal Affairs, one from the Ministry of Health, and a man from the Ministry of Agriculture who seems to have an unwholesome interest in the actual growth capacity of Helheim plants.

“He didn’t go into the most technical details of his work with me,” Takatora says after the third question about what a particular notation might mean. “He was an...idiosyncratic man, to say the least.”

And then, near the back of the room, one of the Internal Affairs people says, “This box seems to be full of artwork.”

Takatora only freezes for a moment before saying, “Yes, Professor Sengoku was very passionate about the design aspects of his work. I’ll come over and take a look through them, there may be sketches of interest to more than one of you.”

Unlike most of the other papers and boxes, the sketchbooks are mostly clearly marked. Lockseeds, Vol. 1, says the label on one; Sengoku Driver Preliminary Sketches, says another. A third is, Armors, and Takatora recognizes its blue cover and thinks, suddenly, I never did ask him how he intended to have the Drivers identify desirable qualities in people, or why. That should have been a warning sign by itself.

Near the bottom of the box, though, is a sketchbook marked, Personal, and Takatora picks it up as quickly as he possibly can while still looking casual. He recognizes that cover too, and would rather not have people from the government seeing some of the drawings in it. “I’d like to keep this one, actually. I assure you, there’s nothing dangerous in it.”

The man from the Ministry of Agriculture says, frowning, “You’re familiar with the contents of this one?”

“I’m familiar with most of them, actually, the professor was very proud of his design work and shared it with me frequently.”

The sketchbook goes into Takatora’s briefcase, and he waits until he’s home and in his own bedroom to open it, because, yes--there, three pages in, is the first of several drawings of him. Most of them, as he flips through, are unremarkable, but a few are of an intimate character that he’s glad he wasn’t forced to share publicly. One in particular brings a blush to Takatora’s cheeks as he remembers the night it was drawn. On the facing page of the sketchbook there are a few lines scrawled in Arabic, a language that Ryouma read excellently and spoke passably, with a translation underneath:

He is a veiled one; but were he to pass in a darkness black as his forelock, his blazing face would suffice him light.

So if I stray for a night in his black locks, his brow’s bright morn will give guidance to my eyes.

Which does nothing but make Takatora’s blush much worse.

Of course, there aren’t only nude drawings of him, which is something of a relief. There’s a self-portrait on one page, a few sketches of Yoko on another, drawings of the various Beat Riders in a set near the back. It almost brings a smile to Takatora’s face, seeing how Ryouma managed to capture Yoko’s solemn resting expression and the angry twist of Kumon Kaito’s mouth. Sketches of animals, of plants, a cartoon of Oren that actually makes Takatora laugh.

Near the middle of the sketchbook, not far past the most memorable “figure study” and its snatch of poetry, is a drawing of the Yggdrasil logo. Or at least, Takatora takes it for that at first, but when he reaches the end of the sketchbook he realizes that something about it bothers him and has to flip back and look more closely. It is the Yggdrasil Corporation tree, but with grasping roots growing down beneath it, crushing something that Takatora realizes after a moment is the Earth.

Beneath it, in Ryouma’s neat, precise handwriting, is a note:

Unfortunately it has become clear that Takatora’s desires and mine are no longer in alignment.

Takatora shudders and closes the sketchbook, and when he finally manages to fall asleep, much later, he dreams of being struck by lightning.

[meli-productions]

Angel in the Gallery

Was able to get this one in earlier in the day! My next piece for the #ineffablehusbandsauweek by @ineffablehusbandsweek​. 

Available on my AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26664100

Professor Fell was everyone’s favorite. He was warm and friendly, with a bit of a bastard streak that his older students loved. And he made his subject come alive with his teaching - almost as if he’d been there among the salons of Paris or at Michelangelo's side as he painted the Sistine. 

And the best part of the Professor were his capricious trips to the museums - 

“How can I expect you to learn without being embraced by history and art itself?” he asked his students.

And really, who would argue?

It was a breezy October when Professor Fell decided to sweep his students up for a last-minute outing to the nearest art museum to see the Roman statues. 

The crowd huddled around him for warmth - and he did look the coziest wrapped in his tan cardigan and camel-hair overcoat. There was an inner warmth to the man, too, which the students just wanted to bask in as much as they did in the light of his smile.

“Come around, there’s a love,” he said. “Now, wander around a bit and take notes of what you see: subject, material, style all of it is indicative of something we’ve learned in the past few weeks. And don’t be lazy. I will be sitting in the new exhibit for you to meet up with in an hour.”

He waved them off and, hands clasped behind his back, made his way into the exhibit of the featured artist - one Anthony Crowley.

Professor Fell wandered around, taking in the beautiful contours and almost renaissance-like beauty of the artwork. He hummed happily as he came before a landscape - lush and green - with a snake wrapped around the trunk of a tree.

“Nice, huh,” a voice behind him said. “Heard it’s supposed to be an interpretation of Eden.”

He turned around and came across a handsome, angular face. The only discernible characteristics of the man before him were the wide smile and the red-hair that was tied back at the top letting the rest fall in soft waves around his shoulders. His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses that turned to the painting.

“It’s lovely,” said Professor Fell, turning back to the art. “I can tell that the artist really loves what he does - and this medium does him well. The oils really allow for the scenery to reach for its own light. Truly a master in their own right.”

The man gave a little hum, “Is that right? I’d love to hear your opinions on his other work…that is, if you have the time.”

Bright hazel eyes, sparkling with the intensity of his smile, “My dear boy, I have an hour before I’m swarmed by young academics wanting to share their discovery. I would love to take in the exhibit with someone.”

“And what can I call you, angel?”

“Oh, terribly rude of me. My name is Azra, Azra Fell. And you, dear?” asked Professor Fell, looking up at the man through his eyelashes.

“Just call me Tony.” 

As the hour wound down, students started circling around the exhibit where they were told to wait for their professor but not coming in just yet. The first two to arrive and slip in were a mischievous pair that flocked to Fell like chicks to a mother hen - Warlock and Adam - and they were surprised by what they saw. 

While every student knew everything there was to know about the oversharing professor -  from his home in London to the cat he’d had in uni that he’d named Oscar - and were protective about him - defending him from his hardass boss, Dr. Archer - there was one thing that only these two were privy to and more protective of than anything else. And that was Fell’s heart.

So when they found their dear Professor hiding a stream of chuckles behind a hand as he sat - a little too close - next to a stranger, the pair were immediately on high-alert.

“Who’s the twink?” asked Warlock, sliding in close to Adam and stare at the couple keeping their quiet laughter to themselves. “And why is he so close to Professor Fell?”

Adam shrugged, “I don’t know - but I think the professor likes them. And I think the twink likes him back.”

“Well, I don’t like him,” Warlock said, crossing his arms. “He looks like a love ‘em and leave ‘em type. Not good enough for Fell. Could break his heart.”

“There’s only one way to test him. Why don’t we go and find out what his intentions are,” said Adam, his eyes twinking with mischief. “If he can’t handle us hellions then he has no right to Fell. If he can - we can give him a chance, right ‘Lock?”

The other young man grunted his approval and allowed Adam to drag him forward as he rushed over to the blushing professor and his new friend. 

“Hey, prof,” said Adam, plopping down at Fell’s feet. “The exhibit was nice - got a lot of notes for the presentation. Can’t wait to show you what ‘Lock and I got. Who’s your new friend?”

Without waiting for Fell to respond, the man reached a hand out, “Tony, nice to meet you kid. You too,” this he directed at Warlock, “nice kicks, by the way.”

Warlock glanced down to his burgundy Docs and mumbled a thanks, choosing to sit on Professor Fell’s open side rather than the floor. For his part, the professor was alight with joy as he presented the boys to Tony, commenting that these two were his best students and sharing with boys the wonderful time that he and Tony had while looking through the new exhibit. 

“You like art?” Adam asked. 

Tony smiled, “I do. Love it - would make a career out of it. Like having someone to talk about art just as much.”

This was directed at Fell, who blushed once again and gave a wiggle that the boys had only seen him give when eating a good meal. Warlock and Adam shared a look, sharing a silent conversation between eyebrow raises and mouthed out words, then focused on Tony and the dopey smile he was giving their professor. 

It was Warlock that broke the silence with an exaggerated sigh, dropping his forehead against Fell’s soft cardigan, “I’m glad that you found someone to talk to, Professor. Must’ve been nice not to be bored waiting for us.”

A hand came up to smooth the long, black hair as Fell smiled back at Tony and said, “It is when the company is good.”

Tony shifted, bashful, and Adam rolled his eyes, but continued to study the two as Tony cleared his throat, “You know, Azra, I’ve been invited to the public opening of the exhibit - terribly boring, wouldn’t want to come alone - would you like to accompany me? Keep me from dashing my brains out?”

Warlock’s head shot up, looking at Adam with wide eyes and finding that his friend was in a similar state. Between them, Fell fiddled with his ring.

“Oh, I’d love to, dear boy, but - I don’t think I would fit in at such an event,” he said, the light in his face starting to dim. “I’m too - much too - outdated, fuddy-duddy- ”

“That’s not true.”

“You should go.”

“Go, Professor Fell, you’re smarter than the lot of them.”

The boys went up in arms, tugging on his shoulder and hand and trying to convince him to accompany Tony. Fell, surprised, turned from the two boys to Tony who was also a little taken aback if the slight drop of his mouth was to be believed.

Fell smiled, easing the boys off his extremities, “Well, dear. I guess I will be accompanying you after all.”

Tony beamed and the boys around them did, too. 

“Then it’s a date.”

Anthony J. Crowley - Crowley to those he liked - was in a frenzy. 

The minute he’d gotten back to his flat from the museum he’d swept into his studio and started sketching. One sketch turned into two - and then into a dozen - all of soft, Rubenesque round rolls of fat and sparkling eyes. Oils of blue, green, greys, and browns mixed to try and capture the right shade of dancing hazel.

“It has to be perfect,” he muttered, eyes narrowed at the canvas as he fixed the fluffiness of white curls with his fingers. “Perfect like him - an angel in the room.”

Since the moment he sauntered into the exhibit of his own work, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off the only other person in there. The way that the sunlight from above had fallen onto the fluffy curls of cloud-white and the rapture on the face, cute nose tilted up as he looked up at the hanging artwork - well, it was artwork in itself.

Azira Fell, stunning and soft and brilliant, had fallen into his path like a light to guide him towards new inspiration.

His subject matter had always been biblical - repenting demons and places like Eden and Babel - but never an angel. Until this one had appeared.

His phone rang and, with a press of paint-dirty fingers, he put it on speaker to continue working, “Crowley here.”

“Are you getting ready for the opening?”

Crowley rolled his eyes, “Nice to hear from you too, Bee, and I’m in the middle of a creative outpour so no, not yet. But I will be there, don’t worry your fuzzy little fly-head. You see, I have a date.”

From the other end of the line, there was a little hiss of laughter, “Who did you hoodwink into being your date to this thing.”

“Not hoodwinked, charmed,” he said, taking a break and sighing until his body was relaxed. “Bee, this is the most beautiful man I’ve ever met and he’s kind and simply amazing. I think I’m in love.”

“You said that both about Lilith and Lucian and look at what happened there,” said Bee,. “Just watch yourself, I don’t want you to go down that spiral again.”

Crowley cooed, “Aww, Bee-Bee, you do care.”

“Shut it, punk. Just finish up and get ready. Send me a few pictures of your work…see if we have another exhibit on our hands.”

And without letting him get another word in edgewise, Bee hung up and Crowley found himself facing the unfinished painting. The crinkles at his eyes and the soft curve of that smile that Crowley followed with the tip of his finger.

“He won’t be like the others. He’s different. I can tell,” he said. “You are.”

Azra was waiting outside of the exhibit, afraid to walk in alone and have eyes on him. He tugged the cream waistcoat down, wishing it didn’t press so tight against his stomach. 

Nerves danced within him until he felt like there was no other option but to turn around and go home - what was he doing in a place like this anyway? He didn’t fit - and Tony would be better off without someone like him.

This way he can find someone more like him.

Mind made up, Azra turned around and bumped into someone.

“Oh, I am terribly sorry, I was just on my way out,” he said, bending down to pick up the glasses that ended up on the floor.

“I certainly hope not,” the person he bumped into said. “Considering you’d be standing me up.”

Azra straightened up to meet the gorgeous, uncovered gold eyes of Tony who was giving him a shy smile. He let himself look the man over, a pang in his stomach as he took in the sleek black outfit, sinfully tight, and scattered with red sequins.

When he met the eyes again, Tony’s smile had slipped a little, “Are you really about to leave?”

“I - I just don’t belong here,” said Azra, pouting. “Everyone is so fashionable and beautiful and far beyond my league.”

Tony grabbed his hand where they were twirling the pair of sunglasses, “Hey, it’s alright, angel. You’re not here for them anyway, you’re here for me. And you’re just as beautiful as anyone in there - more, because those are just money hoarding, elites who have no heart. Now what do you say - will you come in with me?”

With a weak nod, Azra allowed Tony to take the glasses and tuck his hand into the fold of his elbow.

“There’s a love. Let’s go in, gorgeous.”

When they walked in, a short guest fell at Tony’s unoccupied side, eyes glued onto the phone in their hand.

“Okay, so they’ve been waiting for you. You probably will have a good ten minutes where everyone will want to schmooze, then another five for photo ops, and then one good one in front of the piece that you choose. Got it?”

Tony rolled his eyes, “I got it, Bee. Let me introduce my date, Azra. Azra, this is my - manager Bee.”

Bee looked around and their eyes got bigger at the sight of the professor, “Oh. Nice to meet you. I can see why he spent all afternoon doodling. Might have another hit series - won’t we, Crowley?”

Azra’s face paled as another moment of bickering passed between Bee and Tony, “Crowley? As in - as in Anthony Crowley? The - the artist of this exhibit?”

Around the artist in question, Bee gave a little snort, “Okay, so I know you’re not in it for the fame. Good to know. Keep an eye - and hand - on him, Crowley. You’ve got a keeper for once.”

Crowley turned around, hand scratching his neck, “Yeah, I - I didn’t want you to feel obligated to like anything just because of who I am. I really enjoyed our time this morning and didn’t want it ruined by - by my name.”

Azra sputtered, “My - my dear, your artwork is stunning. This is your celebration. I shouldn’t,” he tried to pull out of Crowley’s grasp which made him only hold on tighter.

“Please, don’t,” said Crowley, thumb rubbing over Azra’s knuckles. “I don’t care what all these people think - or what they’ll say. Please just let me enjoy the exhibit with someone that actually like me for me and not because my name is under all these paintings.”

“You could do much better than me, my dear, just look around.”

“Azra, listen to me,” Crowley said, turning him over so that they were face to face. He held Azra’s face in his hands and looked at him from above the rim of his glasses. “I think you are stunning - thought so since I laid eyes on you. I - ngk - here, let me show you.”

Crowley grappled with his phone and held it out for inspection. Pictures after pictures of the work he’d poured over that afternoon with one subject - Azra.

“You see, angel,” he said. “I don’t want any of these people on my arm or around it - I just want you. Please? Will you let me have tonight and then, if you want, not another second more.”

The open earnestness in Crowley’s eyes made Azra sigh, a small smile on his lips, “Tonight and - maybe dinner tomorrow? My treat?”

A giddy smile spread on Crowley’s face, “Absolutely, yes. Anything. Dinner, breakfast, a movie, a play - anything, hell, feed me to those boys of yours.”

Azra laughed and looped his arm into Crowley’s again, “Not anything so drastic, love. But, come now. I believe Bee said you had ten minutes of schmoozing to get through.”

Arm in arm and laughing, Crowley led Azra through the crowd of elites presenting him to all as ‘my angel and my muse’.

The next morning, Adam dropped a newspaper in front of Warlock, a giddy smile on his face when his friend looked up.

“Professor Fell’s dating the artist.”

Warlock for his part looked at the picture taken of the two - besotted smile on both their faces - and gave a little grin of his own.

“Good. He better know he has a treasure in his hands.”

Adam shrugged, “If he doesn’t, we’ll let him know.”

[har-rison-s]

lasagna evening

request: Could you write some domestic fluff with adult stan uris

A/N: (2020 edit: this was my first ever stanley writing :>) Man oh man do i love this concept. ajsndfjsdf i love, i just love. I apologise for the title lmao i dont have any other ideas alsdfsdjn. This is so fluffy and cliché that you're going to die :D Btw, gifs of Andy Bean are very hard to find and I'm mad about it. Hope this is what you were looking for. Happy reading!

IT masterlist

heaven masterlist

main masterlist

“Honey, I'm home!” Stan says in a louder voice so his loved one could hear him. For she's known to often leave music playing loudly through their apartment and go into another room to do something. He hears the smooth voice of Billie Holiday singing about autumn in New York and he smiles to himself, kicking off his shoes. The music is loud enough for her not to hear him at all. 

He walks into the kitchen, both hands holding a grocery bag tightly until he puts them both on the center counter. Her music is playing right in front of him, just a few feet between him and the sound system. 

“Baby!” He calls again. Stan leaves the bags be and they crinkle a bit, the products falling on top of one another. He walks over to the sound system and turns the song's volume down. And he hears her humming. It's coming from her study.

Stan jogs a little down the hallway to get to her and reaches the door frame of her study. He peaks his head in. “Babylove,” he says and smiles immediately upon seeing his girl sitting on her carpet, her back turned to him, still humming and obviously hunched over something. 

She whips her head around and smiles wide. There's a wicked glimmer in her eyes. “Honey!” She squeals and hurriedly gets up from her position, almost falling over her own legs, and tip-toes over to her one and only. 

He leans in to steal a kiss from her soft angel lips and she still has to stand on her tip-toes for him to succeed. She embraces him then, her arms around his neck, and smiles wide. Stan recieves a loving kiss on the cheek and smiles, too. His eyes are full of love for the woman in front of him. 

“What are you doing in here?” He asks, his hand going in slow circles over her back. 

“Before you turned my music down,” she says, pouting and pointing her index finger into the middle of his chest, “I was listening to Billie and making another small sculpture.” She smiles, proud of herself.

“You're getting inspired again?” Stan raises his eyebrows in happy surprise and his love nods, biting her bottom lip. “So, who's the muse?”

“You, silly.” She says and they both laugh. She notices Stan already glancing behind her shoulder to see what she's making. To not spoil the surprise, she brings his eyes back to her, holding his chin softly. “It's not finished yet. When it will be, you'll be the first to see. And you know that.”

“Of course. You know I'm impatient about seeing your art.” He tells her and tickles her sides a little, making her giggle in the most beautiful way. 

“So,” she claps her hands, “what are we making tonight?”

“Hmm, let's see...” Stan pretends to think, “seeing as I bought the ingredients for lasagna, I guess we're making... lasagna?” He squints, teasing his girl. She laughs and kisses him on the cheek again. And then all over his face, which makes Stanley laugh instead. 

When he's about to plead for breath, she stops and grabs his hand, closing her study door with the other. She drags them both back down the hallway and lets go of Stan's hand to turn the volume higher. Stan gives her a mock-annoyed look, but they both laugh.

One of the billion, trillion things he loves so much about his girl is her energy and youthfulness. They're only two years apart, but Stanley has always felt older than he actually is. And he wanted to enjoy his youth when it was happening, but a lot of things kept him from it. 

Her youthfulness and eagerness and sort-of hyperactivity brings joy in his life. Makes him happy about still being here, having a life. She's brighter than the sun to him in many ways. 

“Do you have the recipe?” Stan asks her as they're unpacking the groceries.

“Uh-huh, I printed it out. It should be next to the sink.” She replies, pulling tomato after tomato out of the bag.

“Terrible place for a paper to be, if you ask me.” He tells her, but she only laughs. Stan walks over to the sink and sure enough, there is a page with a recipe printed on it. And it's not wet. He quickly goes over the ingredients and steps. “So how was work today?”

She works as a museum manager/administrator in a pottery museum in town. Taking that she's an artist herself, she needs to be in an artistic place and area at all times. An administrator might not seem like the job to you, but to her it's the perfect one that pays the bills and takes her on holidays with her loved one. Many artists to meet, artworks to see and inspiration to suck in.

“Quite amazing. You know I met that one artist I've always wanted to host at my museum—”

“Emily Lacey?” Stan finishes instead of her. She nods.

“Yup. And she's even more lovely than I thought she'd be. She's got great sense of humor, a great sense of style, of course, and turns out we have a lot in common.” She tells him. Stan smiles, watching her rush around the kitchen and talk. “She likes to read books, go to the cinema, travelling, hiking.”

“Wow, you two are basically twins.” He states.

“I know, right?” She looks at him with wide eyes, clearly excited. Stanley chuckles. “How was your day?” She asks him. 

“It was good.” He says. “Better now that I'm home.” Stan states and they share a look of love and knowing. “The book is coming along well, there's not much left. And I had to teach a new class today! All the kids were sweethearts.”

“How old were they?” She asks and, while doing so, gives Stan a piece of dough to flatten out. They both start working on a piece.

“Uh, they're... I think second or third grade, so eight to nine.” Stan says in between grunts of pushing the wooden roll on the dough. “Why such a question?”

She shrugs. “Just wondering. Thought they'd put you in a college now.” She admits, and huffs.

“Huh.” He turns to her, puts the roll down and crosses his arms over his chest. “Don't you think I'm good enough for primary school?”

She laughs and huffs again. “No, I think you're more than good enough for primary school, and better than perfect for teaching college kids ornithology.” She tells him, honestly.

“Listen, it's nothing wrong with me.” Stan insists, pointing at his chest and raising his eyebrows. “Ornithology is not the most desired class in college, even for biology majors. So they have one professor in each college that isn't exactly an ornithologyst, but knows enough and can memorise texts from books. And they put that guy to teach ornithology if it's at all necessary.” He explains in detail.

“But that is so unfair! I bet you're not the only ornithologyst without a chance to teach in college, and they put some knock-offs in your place.” She justifies.

“You have a fair point.” Stanley agrees. She smiles wide. 

“I know. You gotta fight for your rights, hon.” She tells him. “We both know that your passion is ornithology and that you're an actual ornithologyst. They should let, whoever's in charge of it, the people who really know what they're talking about teach ornithology. It makes a huge difference for the kids.”

“Listen, if your artist carrier ever flakes, you should become an education politican.” Stan says upon restarting to flatten the dough. His love laughs out loud, holding her tummy. Stanley only smiles wide to himself.

“Can you even imagine me dressed in formal clothes everyday, having that politician-lady haircut, wearing glasses and talking in a very serious voice about the issues of today?” She asks him, mimicking the way politicians speak in the last part. She even makes a funny face. “I could never. I mean, yeah, they pay you like, crazy money, but I'd never do that.” She shakes her head, still quietly laughing to herself. Stanley keeps smiling.

Merely two hours later, the couple have finished their lasagna. They had put on their food-making playlist, which is basically a playlist full of songs that they know all the lyrics to and sing together to at the top of their lungs. Includes ABBA, Queen, David Bowie, Journey, Elton John and many, many others. 

They're happily setting the coffee table in the living room, and they're almost finished. Stan is already turning on the TV, wrapped in a blanket and waiting for his one and only to join him. 

She's still getting them forks and spoons, and when she has, she turns off all the lights in the apartment. Except for the little light in the kitchen above the stove, that one always stays on.

She tip-toes—a habit of hers that is not entirely healthy for her feet—into the living room and puts the instruments down on the table. She collapses into Stan's open, waiting arms with a happy sigh. He wraps the blanket around her and keeps his arm around her, too. 

Her fingers push between his and they lock together. As if their hands were crafted just to be interlocked with the other's, no one else's. They feel like they're made for each other. 

Stanley presses a kiss into her hair. “What are we watching tonight?” He asks, his cheek now pressed where his lips just were.

“Hmm,” she thinks and watches Stan browsing through movies and tv-shows on the screen, “something funny. Don't you think?”

“Yeah, we always watch dramas.” He agrees. “I'm kinda sick of you making me cry every other evening.” Stan admits then, and they both laugh. Stan yawns.

“Do you have a favorite?” She questions, looking up at him. He looks down at her and almost gets hypnotised. Looking at her makes him go a bit weak, every and anytime. The years spent together either don't do anything to help it or even give more to the effect.

“I don't watch that many comedies, not my favorite genre.” He tells her as his hand caresses the side of her face. She closes her eyes to that. “You can choose. Show me your favorite!” He suggests and she smiles. “Just not anything dumb, okay? I know you like those a lot, but, please, spare me.”

She looks at him and rolls her eyes playfully. “Alright, alright.” She agrees and turns to lay on her stomach, over Stan's lap and takes the remote from his hand. “I'll spare your soul from the doom of dumb comedy movies, my prince.” She teases and Stan smiles. “Aha!” She exclaims upon finally finding the movie she was looking for. 

She pushes the 'play' button and reaches for their two plates of lasagna while the intro plays. She straightens her back, sitting normally just like Stan and giving him his lasagna piece.

“Hear ye, hear ye. Feast your eyes and ears with the wonder that is Bruce Almighty!” She theatrically introduces the movie. She likes Shakespeare and Old English, despite that she may not be the best at using it right. Stan smiles at her. 

They lean in to steal a few kisses from each other before indulging in their home-made (hopefully, well-made) lasagna and the world of Jim Carrey's comedy. 

Permanent taglist: @v0idbella @inlovewithmiddleagedcelebs @works-of-fanfiction @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @stfxlou @ur-gunna-h8-ths@empressdreams @betweenloveandfire @but-legendsneverdie@deardeacy @thewinchesterchronicles @mavieesttriste16@mrsmazzello@benhardyseyes @langdonzvoid @intrrverted @the-freak-cassie-131

A/N: Tell me why everytime I look at a picture of Stanley Uris, I immediately want to cry. Oh my God. heurehuherufshfsdh. 

[dysfunctionalbatfam]

Do you have any advice/tips/tricks for new artists?

I’m definitely not the most qualified for this but I’ll try my best!! 😅

I kind of started out sort of using other artists’ art as references (just personal studies that I threw away right after) - that’s how I actually got into drawing. I did it for fun and when I finished I thought, “Huh. Neat” (even though it was terrible) and then I just tried a few more. Unlike working from real references, some artists may choose to have a style that’s more simplified and easier to understand. (Do keep in mind that you should never just trace it and repost online.)

Another thing I took from were speedpaints and tutorials - and they don’t really all help me, but they at least give me some motivation, even if they make it look overwhelmingly easy. They help break down the steps and give you a process so that you don’t only see the masterful finished product and that the beginnings can be rough. There has been, however, two (2) that really did help a lot. (Probably will drop the talented users in the tags 💞💞)

And honestly? Most of it has been just, making up shit, and that’s okay! Even if you have no idea what you’re doing, it’s not going to hurt your art progress, and often times you learn from them. Explore things, different styles, programs, tools, until you find some you’re comfortable with. And don’t worry if you’re unsure, this process takes a ton of time, so just keep exploring. Sometimes you just gotta say “This looks bad to me, but it helped me learn this and that.”

Another good thing to do is find a group of friends willing to support you! You could share your shitposts to more serious drawings and get their feedback. Bounce off ideas off each other, find other artists. People encouraging you to push on can do more than you’d think.

This is said. A lot. You hear it everywhere, but it’s commonly said for a reason, y’know? Practice. Practicing is so much of the gig. No one’s going to automatically be amazing at art, which also means that if your art isn’t what you want it to be right now? Doesn’t mean it’s never gonna get there. Try your best to draw everyday! Don’t worry if it varies, do whatever the fuck you want, this is for you. A two second scribble one day and a portrait study the next? Heck yeah.

Last general advice, methinks, is to use references. I’m a huge hypocrite for this because I just. Randomly put stuff down. But don’t ever be afraid to use them. They’re a resource all artists have used.

Onto more technical stuff -

Digital Art Programs (that I’ve tested and would recommend)

-Firealpaca (computer) and Medibang (computer & tablet): Always my recommendations. They’re absolutely free and easy to install, yet they offer such a reliable program. They’re basically the same, to be honest

-Krita (computer): I don’t really know how to use this but it’s free and capable of producing gorgeous pieces of art.

-Photoshop (computer & tablet): I started with this, it’s pretty good, but my personal issues made it just keep crashing, so I’m not very versed in it 😅 but it lives up to its hype.

-Procreate (tablet): Good for painting, but lineart is a little harder, in my opinion. The brush stabilization is wack. But it’s very comfortable and whelming to use, worth the ten bucks. You can also download a fuck ton of free brushes online, always a plus (I SWEAR I get twenty more every day)

-Autodesk Sketchbook (tablet & computer [?]): The interface is very similar to Procreate, so if you want a subsititute for Procreate, go ahead! In my opinion, it’s a little harder to use, though.

-Paint Tool Sai (computer) and Clip Studio Paint (both): Never tried, but probably really good, I know a lot of people who use them.

[Do keep in mind that starting out with free programs is enough, and many extremely good artists stick with them!]

Traditional art stuff -

-Same stuff applies, you don’t need advanced supplies to create good art!

-Hoard sketchbooks like a dragon, eat hot chip, and cry

-A lot of professional artists prefer sketching/inking traditionally and then digitally coloring it

-My favorite traditional supplies are charcoal pencils, if that’s anything? 😂 I find them more comfortable to use than pencils.

-You can tell I can’t do traditional to save my life, I’m SO sorry if you do traditional dhdkhd

-Brushes can be bought cheap!! They’ll still work just as well (many supplies that come cheaper are still good, I got a whole set with paint, a sketchbook, etc. for under twenty USD)

-Some advice I took from a youtube video somewhere: Have two notebooks, one for more serious artwork and one just to do anything in, as we know we all have failures and get nervous to fuck up. This ensures that you unleash your creativity! In that notebook, don’t worry about making your drawings look good, just put your ideas down.

This is getting to the point that I’m just rambling, so I’ll end it here. Hope it helps, even though I should follow my own advice- ❤️❤️❤️ good luck, you GOT this, anon!

[kathrynethegreat]

@random-emerald-thoughts: said In response to this post. Now I’m hella curious about your thoughts on the other seasons.

Totally!  I will post the notes I have for season 2 below. Notes for season 3 will follow in another week, and season 4 a week after that most likely.

Like with season 1, I didn’t write full episodes, just some general details, and the notes assume you’ve read the novels to some extent. Have questions, just ask! Also, not that it matters, but season 2 is my personal favorite of the four seasons.

To those of you who have written to me about this project, thanks for all of the kind words and PMs. It really means a lot. 

To those seeing this for the first time and have no idea what this is, the original posts are here:

OVERVIEW

SEASON 1 SUMMARY | SEASON 1 DETAILS

SEASON 2 SUMMARY | SEASON 2 DETAILS

SEASON 3 SUMMARY | SEASON 3 DETAILS

SEASON 4 SUMMARY | SEASON 4 DETAILS

Below the cut is the following information for Season 2 of The Rape of Europa:

Additional Information about each episode and the real crimes that inspired some of the stories

Artwork featured in each episode

A couple pieces of Fan Art that didn’t make the cut for the Season Rundowns.

Flashbacks featured in each episode

General Season Arcs / Information / Themes

General Clannibal info (Last season saw the Doctor and the Agent on rocky ground after a moment of passion and ultimately rejection.)

A full summary of the third to last episode of the second season -  episode 2:13 Whoso List to Hunt. Heavily inspired by Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII.

Season 2 General Notes / Arcs / Themes:

The second season deals heavily in the father/daughter bond or lack thereof. Clarice’s relationship with her father - one she remembers fondly and talks about with Lecter frequently, and Molson Verger’s terrible and loveless relationship with his daughter Margot, which Clarice struggles to understand.

A major theme in the season is forgery. This is shown both in actual art forgeries but is also repeated with the duel identities of Clarice Starling / Elizabeth Chase and Hannibal Lecter / Dr.Fell, with Dr.Fell and Elizabeth Chase being “Forgeries.” of their real selves.

This season further explores Hannibal Lecter's Background. Last season we learned that Hannibal Lecter’s sister was eaten - but this season we learn that he also ate her.  The first season dealt with the parts of Hannibal Rising that deal with the war - and while this season still has some flashbacks to what happened, this season deals with the second half of Rising, which focuses more on the murders and the search for lost art from Lecter Castle.

The two Johns. Clarice’s relationship between both Lecter and Brigham deepens in this season. Brigham is shown to very clearly be in love with her. She is not in love with him, though she is great friends with him. There is a “will they or won’t they?” surrounding both Clarice and Lecter AND Clarice and Johnny.  Since Lecter is still undercover as Dr.Fell, she is essentially stuck between Dr.John Fell and Johnny Brigham. Two very different people, Johnny is all that is good and honest and Lecter is...obviously not. Clarice knows she should be happy with Johnny and not be drawn to Lecter, but cannot find her way around it. She struggles with this in each episode this season.

Please note that Clarice doesn't reveal Hannibal because she's been properly threatened by Chiyoh. She knows Chiyoh, now head of a Japanese Yakuza absolutely has the capability to kill her - as well as Johnny and Ardelia.

Hannibal helps Clarice because he needs her help in return- he needs access to the stolen paintings records she has as a member of the Art Crime Team. He also needs help tracking down someone who has changed their name - someone he has been hunting for years. Clarice insists she won’t help him find someone just so he can kill them.

Hannibal is living in France this season, traveling across Europe as needed depending on where his own investigations into his family paintings take him. He runs into Clarice here and there. While both characters are shown in each episode, they do not spend every single episode together.

The Memory Palace. We see this concept come up, and frequently we see Lecter think, reason and remember via his mind palace, via art pieces in his internal “Gallery.”

SEASON 2, EPISODE 1 : Chiaroscuro

DATE: January 1991 FLASHBACKS:

Clarice - Discussing Lecter's file with Crawford, discussing the Victim who is still alive "On a ventilator"

Hannibal  - When Hannibal Looks at Leda and the Swan, he has a quick flash of kissing Clarice in season 1, immediately followed by a flash of him telling her Typhoid and Swans come from the same place, immediately followed by an unwanted image of Micha being chased by a Swan and Hannibal chasing it away.

Hannibal - Hannibal studying with Jakov. Jakov asks if Hannibal Lecter wants to remember everything. Jakov teaches him about the concept of the Memory Palace.

Clarice - Clarice speaks with Chiyoh (this flashback is meant to take place in between season 1 and season 2 - it is not something we saw happen in season 1)

ARTWORK FEATURED:

Leda and the Swan by Rubens, Louvre museum, Paris, France

Kouros - Artists Unknown / Possible Forgery, owned by the Getty Museum in real life, but owned by Molson Verger for this narrative

NOTES:

M.J. Verger is heavily, heavily inspired by the real-life John Paul Getty, his museum, its fraudulent background, and the Getty kidnapping. 

Iraq will be invaded soon (Desert Storm), and several Art Historians and archaeologists did, in real life, consult with the U.S. Military about what areas they should avoid bombing, as they did not want to destroy any major historical heritage. In this story, it is Clarice who is consulting with the Government.

Clarice remembers a discussion she had with Chiyoh just before she left Japan (this scene was intentionally not shown in season 1 - it is meant to have happened in between the seasons.). Chiyoh is calm but serious, and she tells Clarice that she cannot hurt Hannibal Lecter. Chiyoh has bribed the Japanese government. The Japanese government holds Dr.Fell in bad taste...and are bitter to not get to indict him against his art crimes, but they have no idea the real story they are inadvertently covering up - they have no idea they are granting immunity to Hannibal Lecter.  Dr.Fell’s books are clean...there is no reason for anyone to investigate him. Dr.Fell has nothing on paper that anyone can prove. And only Clarice and Chiyoh know his true identity.  She threatens Clarice with her life - and the life of her friends, that she does not reveal Lecter’s identity. Clarice knows enough to know that Chiyoh will make good on her promise. Clarice manages to convince herself continuing to keep his identity a secret is okay - after all, Dr.Fell helped her with many cases. He’s been more help to her than a hindrance. Maybe even Soah might not have been taken down without the important information he gave to her. She uses his helpfulness over the past year to try to convince herself she is okay with not turning him in - for the time being. She also knows if she turns him in, she’ll be ignored.  She tried to turn him into the FBI several times and was rebuffed (thanks to Paul Krendler). Clarice also knows that if she reveals Dr.Fell’s identity, that she will have to stop using Elizabeth Chase as her own identity. Elizabeth already has heavy contacts around the world that know about what happened with Hiroshi Soah...to take down Hannibal Lecter, is to reveal Elizabeth Chase and undo a lot of important work she has done and is still working on (especially with the Gardner case). Clarice acknowledges she will not reveal his identity, and Chiyoh continues on. “I won’t let you hurt him,” Clarice again says she will not reveal Fell’s identity.  “No.” Chiyoh says again, “I won’t let you hurt him.”  Clarice suddenly understands. Chiyoh doesn’t want Clarice hurting him emotionally either. Chiyoh is well aware of Lecter’s growing affection for Clarice, but it is the first time Clarice has been confronted by another person with the fact that Lecter likes her.  Chiyoh does say that if Lecter chooses to reveal HIMSELF, that she will consider their deal null and void.

Despite his dislike of Clarice personally, Paul Krendler finds himself attracted to her. He calls rather drunk and asks her out on a date. She knows he is married and turns him down. He is not pleased. (The novel says that Krendler called to ask her out during the first week of Desert Storm, so I’ve tried to keep the timeline the same when I can). She is worried that her rejection of Krendler is only going to make her life worse.

An anonymous tip comes in about some forgeries for the Verger Museum. (The Kouros, specifically) Once it is investigated, Clarice very quickly finds that it’s the tip of the iceberg...the museum has TONS of problems. Some pieces may have been forged. Some pieces may have been stolen outright. Some may have been purchased through not entirely illegal means. There may be some tax fraud going on...but the amount of investigation each piece takes, the amount of paperwork involved is monstrous.  Clarice - though still on the Gardner case - will be on the Verger case for almost the entirety of Season 2 - with information leading her into the path of other smaller cases along the way.

We do not yet know where the anonymous tip came from. We will find out later in the season. 

Clarice realizes that the man she is investigating is the father of Mason Verger - a name she recognized from the Lecter case.

Hannibal Lecter is shown to be living in Paris, but traveling around as Europe as needed while he searches for what he is looking for. At one point in this episode, he makes his way down to the basement of the Louvre (dressed as an art conservator) and casually snags a few small, lesser pieces for his home. (The basement of the Louvre is indeed filled with hundreds of items not on general display).

While in the Louvre, Hannibal sees Titian’s Leda and the Swan, which causes him to remember his time with Clarice. He remembers kissing her, and then he remembers a moment in which he scared away a swan that had frightened his sister, Mischa.

Chiaroscuro, the title of the episode is the use of strong lights and darks to contrast a composition. This, of course, is shown in art but is also represented in the two sides of our story - in the honest people on Clarice’s team, and the dishonest ones of Verger’s.

January 12 – Gulf War: The Congress of the United States passes a resolution authorizing the use of military force to expel Iraqi forces from Kuwait. January 13 – Singing Revolution: Soviet forces storm Vilnius to stop Lithuanian independence. This may be briefly mentioned as news in the background. It’s, of course, relevant to Hannibal Lecter’s interests...

January 15 - The United Nations deadline for the withdrawal of Iraqi forces from occupied Kuwait expires, preparing the way for the start of Operation Desert Storm

January 16 - U.S. serial killer Aileen Wuornos confesses to the murders of six men. Clarice is interested in this and frustrated that she doesn’t get to be involved in this case.

January 17: Operation Desert Storm is launched and the first air attacks are launched on Iraq and Kuwait. 

SEASON 2, EPISODE 2: Wiedergutmachung

DATE: February 1991 FLASHBACKS:

Hannibal - Painting of the upstairs bedroom, hiding with Micha and drawing her hand, Hannibal sings quietly Ein Männlein Steht Im Walde to her

Hannibal - Painting being wrapped by Simonetta and put in the wine cellar with the other paintings.

Hannibal - Family abandoning their castle to go to the lodge in the woods

Hannibal - A Flash of the deserters and their dog tags as they call each other by name over the fire. Emphasis on Grentz.

ARTWORK FEATURED:

The Grand Canal in Venice - Canaletto, Getty Collection

The Bridge of Sighs Bernardo Bellotto,  Musée des Beaux-Arts de Lyon

Grand Canal in Venice - Francesco Guardi - Frick Art Museum

Various other assorted paintings from the Lecter Castle collection. No others are specifically mentioned in the book, though it is mentioned there are others. Just shown as an assortment of beautiful pieces.

NOTES:

The word Wiedergutmachung means restitution from crimes committed by the Nazis.

The Art Loss Register is Begun in 1991 in London (In real life). Clarice is closely consulted and involved in this (for this story’s purposes)

Clarice meets Verger's Curator for the first time. There is a lot of build-up. The viewer might feel it's going to be Hannibal Lecter, since last year he was curating for Hiroshi Soah, but it is revealed to be Trebelaux.

Pierre Trebelaux is one of two characters from Hannibal Rising who gets a reprieve from being killed (in the novel he has no first name given). He only lives a few brief pages in Hannibal Rising before being killed- in this instance, I’ve let him live a long healthy life...for now. We will see him in flashbacks and get a better idea of why he is important.

Trebelaux’s character (who again, barely appears in Rising before dying, and thus we don’t know much about his personality) is heavily influenced by Jiri Frel, a curator at the Getty Museum. Frel is credited with the expansion of the collection of antiquities for the Getty, and he was involved in a number of controversies including a tax manipulation scheme to buy artifacts of dubious provenance. He also had a tendency to purchase items that were fake. Frel studied in Paris (like Trebelaux). Following the Soviet invasion, Frel emigrated to the U.S. He expanded the Getty collection heavily. He designed a tax evasion scheme where fictitious donors paid to an intermediary to get tax reductions for donations of artifacts they’ve never seen. 

This episode marks the first time Hannibal Lecter actually reaches out to Clarice asking for her help (beyond just keeping quiet about his identity). He has seen her work for the Art Loss Register, and he wants to access it. It’s Government only at this time, and she cannot grant it. He is looking for some of his family’s lost artwork and gives her some of the specifics. She says she will keep her eyes open.  He gives her the name Grentz and says his last known whereabouts was Canada, and she takes note.

Clarice goes to visit Verger at his English country home in Kent after her trip to London regarding the Art Loss Register. There she meets Trebelaux, as well as Margot. Clarice notices there is a lot of tension with Margot and Verger and witnesses small instances of verbal and even physical abuse directed at her by her father.

Clarice eventually learns that Margot has let her father know that she is a lesbian, and he has written her out of his will. It should be noted that re-writing his will was a favorite pastime of John Paul Getty in real life.

When discussing the Verger collection with Verger and Trebelaux, Clarice sees The Grand Canal by Canaletto and realizes it is from Lecter Castle. She doesn’t say anything but begins to dig into things. She lets Lecter know but asks him to let her handle it.  In real life, this painting is, in fact, a part of the John Paul Getty collection.

The character of Grentz is the second character from Hannibal Rising that gets a reprieve. The novel ends with Hannibal going to his taxidermy shop. For our purposes, I am going to propose that when Hannibal went to kill him, he simply wasn’t there. He’d already moved away. Hannibal has been searching for him ever since. He is the last one of the deserters from the lodge that he has not managed to track down and kill. 

So Hannibal Lecter’s goals are 1: reclaim paintings, which he’s done a little bit already (in Japan) and 2: find and kill Grentz. 

February 9 – Singing Revolution: Voters in Lithuania support independence.

February 17-  Operation Desert Storm is launched and the first air attacks are launched on Iraq and Kuwait.

February 27- Victory Declared in Iraq

SEASON 2, EPISODE 3:The Spoils of War

DATE: March 1991 FLASHBACKS:

Hannibal - Quick shot of Hannibal's dead parents (which we saw last season) followed by a shot of Hannibal reaching for Mischa to keep her from going out to their mother and the wolves.

Hannibal - Hannibal is thrown into the barn with his sister and a young Albanian boy

Hannibal - The Albanian boy is taken away, and there is suddenly food...

ARTWORK FEATURED:

Terracotta lion from Shaduppum

NOTES:

March 15 - Four Los Angeles, California, police officers are indicted for the videotaped March 3 beating of Rodney King during an arrest. This is not relevant to the story, but would be big news for the F.B.I in general, and would be mentioned in the background.

March 15 - Germany formally regains complete independence after the four post-World War II occupying powers (France, the United Kingdom, the United States, and the Soviet Union) relinquish all remaining rights. This event would also be HEAVILY mentioned in this episode.

We see Verger and Trebelaux speaking with Clarice, being kind and charming. Later we see them talking alone, arguing. From the conversation, it is clear that both men are very guilty, but Verger is angry “You said it was all foolproof.” They discuss how they are going to figure out the problem of the museum being investigated. They begin hiding some paperwork and agree that once they’ve secured everything, that the best thing to do is to play along with Clarice, to act as if they are as cooperative as possible and deny as much as possible.

Miranda Pilcher is offered a sculpture by an art dealer. It is from Iraq, and Miranda immediately has her guard up. Before calling Clarice, she does a little bit of digging. She calls some curators from other museums. She finds several museums have purchased similar items recently - all from different dealers.  Miranda is concerned and calls Clarice Starling. Together they discuss each piece, each museum that purchased something, etc. 

Hannibal Lecter is present in this episode, but he is back in France and is not interacting with Clarice. We see more of his life in France and more of his flashbacks.

The pieces are all too alike...the timing is strange. Miranda wonders - could these be pieces pilfered from Iraq during the recent Desert Storm? Clarice agrees that it is indeed very suspicious. 

Clarice interviews the art dealer, who insists that he is above board and has done nothing wrong. Clarice finally uncovers several layers of buyers and must travel around the world to interview them, hoping to find a common denominator.

Johnny travels around the world with Clarice to help with the interviews. It eventually comes out that Jack asked him to be by her side for her protection. She is a little piqued at this but glad that Jack is thinking about her. She confides to Johnny how much she wishes she could be working for Behavioral Science. None the less, Clarice assures Johnny that she doesn’t need any protection. He lets it slip that he cares deeply for her, and she does not know how to respond.

This episode flows heavily into the next episode....

SEASON 2, EPISODE 4: The Director of Idolatry

DATE: March 1991 FLASHBACKS:

Hannibal - Mischa is ill. Hannibal feeds her like a bird. Hannibal holds her and sings Ein Männlein Steht Im Walde

Hannibal - Mischa is taken away, Hannibal's arm is broken

ARTWORK FEATURED:

Human Headed Winged Bulls and Reliefs from Dur-Sharrukin

Terracotta lion from Shaduppum 

Statue of Sanatruq, king of Hatra

Plaster with boar relief

Wall relief from Ninevah featuring an Assyrian soldier

NOTES:

This episode is heavily influenced by Khaled al-Asaad. He was an archaeologist and head of antiquities in the ancient city of Palmyra, a position he held for 40 years. Though he was active during the second Iraq war, I’ve placed him earlier - with Desert Storm instead.  In real life, he helped to evacuate the city’s museum. He was captured and tortured in an attempt for to get him to reveal the locations of some important pieces that he had hidden.  He was beheaded, and his body was hung from a traffic light, with a placard on his body declaring him the “Director of Idolatry.”

There is a discussion about the Curator of the Iraqi museum, the fictional Kasim Amari (based on Khaled al-Asaad) and his death in the newspapers. The art world is horrified. He was killed some months before.

Clarice receives a letter from Kasim - it is dirty and battered and clearly has been in the mail for a while before reaching her, having been written before his death.  She opens it and it begins with “If you’re reading this, then I am no longer on this earth...”  He goes on to give her clues to the whereabouts of the artifacts that he has hidden.  Of course, he has coded the message with clues - lest the letter falls into the hands of the wrong people.

Clarice and her team journey to Iraq, uncovering clues, decoding messages, interviewing people all in the hopes of finding where the various pieces have been hidden.

Johnny and Clarice grow increasingly close in this episode, looking at art, admiring the culture and food, etc.

Tensions are high in the region, and though the war is officially over, it is dangerous. Clarice separates from her team for a moment in a city square, and when a bomb goes off, Johnny struggles to find her. After a frantic search, he finds her shaken but unharmed. In a moment of relief, he kisses her and she does not pull away, but when they finally part, it is clear she is unsure.  She tells him she needs some time.

Ultimately the different paths each piece of art has taken are uncovered. Each one went through a series of art dealers, etc in an attempt to put anyone who wanted to steal or destroy the pieces off the scent. In the end, they discover many of the pieces were, in fact, offered to the museums at the request of the curator - in hopes that the pieces would remain protected for years to come. The pieces Miranda feared were looted weren’t looted at all, leading to complicated questions about the role of Museums.

SEASON 2, EPISODE 5: Nécessaire

DATE:  Early April 1991 FLASHBACKS:

Hannibal - One of the deserters tries to get Hannibal to eat, he is shown only as a hand and a voice. We do not see his face.

Hannibal - Bombing and abandonment of men in the lodge.

ARTWORK FEATURED:

Ein Männlein steht im Waldem - a song by Heinrich Hoffmann von Fallersleben

The Stolen Kiss - Fragonard, Hermitage Museum, St.Petersburg, Russia

Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss, Antonio Canova, Hermitage, Russia

Nécessaire by Peter Carl Faberge (Missing, but found by our characters)

Twelve Monograms by Peter Carl Faberge, Hillwood Museum, Washington D.C.

Rose Trellis by Peter Carl Faberge, Walters Art Museum, Baltimore, Maryland

Gatchina Palace by Peter Carl Faberge, Walters Art Museum, Baltimore, Maryland

Pelican by Peter Carl Faberge, Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Richmond, Virginia

Rock Crystal by Peter Carl Faberge, Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Richmond, Virginia

Czarevich by Peter Carl Faberge, Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Richmond, Virginia

Red Cross with Imperial Portraits by Peter Carl Faberge, Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Richmond, Virginia

Lilies of the Valley by Peter Cal Faberge, owned by Viktor Vekselberg in real life, owned by Aleksander Sokolov in this narrative

Hen by Peter Carl Faberge, owned by Viktor Vekselberg in real life, owned by Aleksander Sokolov in this narrative

Renaissance by Peter Carl Faberge, owned by Viktor Vekselberg in real life, owned by Aleksander Sokolov in this narrative

 Rosebud by Peter Carl Faberge, owned by Viktor Vekselberg in real life, owned by Aleksander Sokolov in this narrative

 Imperial Coronation by Peter Carl Faberge, owned by Viktor Vekselberg in real life, owned by Aleksander Sokolov in this narrative

NOTES:

The character of Aleksander Sokolov is heavily influenced by the real-life Russian Viktor Vekselberg, who owns several Faberge eggs. 

This episode takes place around Easter for the Russian Orthodox Church (A week after Clarice would recognize Easter).

 There is a discussion of the Imperial Eggs and the fall of the Czar. There is some discussion about the great love between Niki and Alex and the love between Alexander III and Maria Feodorovna.

Aleksander wants to purchase every Faberge egg in the world. He owns several already, but he wants them all to be displayed in the Hermitage in hopes of bolstering Russia’s place in the art world and world in general.

Not all of the Imperial Eggs are in existence. Some were destroyed, but the Nécessaire made it through the revolution and was seen at an exhibit in 1949 at Wartski’s. In June 1952 it was sold to “A Stranger.” No one knows who purchased it, and Aleksander wants Clarice to find out...

Along the way, we learn a bit more about the other eggs, as well as additional Russian history.

SEASON 2, EPISODE 6: Still Life

DATE: April 14, 1991

FLASHBACKS:

Hannibal - Hannibal comes out of the woods in chains

Hannibal - Hannibal is taken back to his castle - now an orphanage

Hannibal - Hannibal wakes from the night screaming. The next morning he stands by the moat - it is devoid of swans.

Hannibal - Hannibal sneaks into the wine cellar and sees his paintings are all gone

ARTWORK FEATURED:

The Burghers of Calais by Rodin, France

The Potato Eaters by Vincent Van Gogh, Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam

Wheat Field with Crows by Vincent Van Gogh, Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam

Still Life with Bible by Vincent Van Gogh, Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam

Still Life with Fruit by Vincent Van Gogh, Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam

NOTES:

In April 14, 1991, twenty paintings were stolen from the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam. This episode doesn’t merely take the event as inspiration - it puts our characters directly into the event itself. Since the paintings were found a little more than 30 minutes after the theft, the episode will show the theft and recovery in real-time.

This episode is also heavily inspired by the opening scene of the remake of The Italian Job. A good heist, a good chase on foot and by boat through Amsterdam rather than Venice...

Hannibal is in France attending the opera, visiting galleries, eating good food, drinking good wine.  When looking at the Burghers of Calais, he has a flashback to his time in chains. When drinking wine he flashes back to seeing his wine cellar emptied of its hidden paintings, etc. This attempts to show that though he is trying to live a quiet life, he stands on shifting sands due to his background. 

SEASON 2, EPISODE 7: The Forgery

DATE: May 1991 FLASHBACKS:

Hannibal - Hannibal forges a letter from an allergist saying he is allergic to chalk dust.

Hannibal - Hannibal gives the forged letter to his professor.

Hannibal - Hannibal is allowed to be seated at the back of his classroom where he draws all day.

ARTWORK FEATURED:

The Forgery in question is this episode is not a real piece but is a similar piece to Frans Hals Portrait of a Gentleman.

NOTES:

This episode is heavily inspired by a 2018 case in which Sotheby’s sold Portrait of a Gentleman by Frans Hals for eleven million dollars to real estate investor Richard Hedreen. Ultimately it was determined that the painting could be a fake and Hedreen sued. There are also other similar cases that involve both Christie’s and Sotheby’s.

For the purposes of our story, the buyer is a French Billionaire. He sues Christie’s, and the F.B.I. Art Crime Team is brought onto the case to determine if the painting is a fake, and if so where it came from- the fear being that the original collection it came from could contain additional fakes. Clarice wants Ardelia to come onto this case for the legal red tape, but Ardelia lets Clarice know that Christie’s has hired her as their lawyer, so a serious conflict of interest arises.

If the painting is a fake, the other question is - where is the real one? Digging through the provenance, Clarice tries to answer that question and ultimately comes upon an entire collection that was painted as a forgery.

In order to gain information into some people’s private Collections, Clarice must continue to pose as art dealer Elizabeth chase. Playing a fake person, while investigating fake art makes her wonder about the nature of forgery within herself. On one hand, she must lie and pretend to be Elizabeth Chase for her job, but on the other hand, it comes very easily and often times she finds out she’s NOT lying about things, but actually being more herself when she is Elizabeth Chase than when she is Clarice Starling. Is she a forgery? Is Elizabeth the forgery? 

Clarice only continues to question herself when a letter from Hannibal Lecter arrives, asking many of the same questions.  If she finds that she wants what Elizabeth Chase wants, then maybe she is Elizabeth Chase. Maybe Elizabeth is who she would be without constraints, without worrying about what other people thought, etc.

SEASON 2, EPISODE 8: The Plunder

DATE: July 1991 FLASHBACKS:

Hannibal - Hannibal is selling his paintings to get through medical school and sees the Guardi at a Gallery

Info Flashback - The Gallery owner goes to Trebelaux and tells him the Guardi is "Hot."

Info Flashback - Trebelaux goes to Milko, asks if he has any more paintings from Lecter Castle. We see a quick shot of him looting them all from Lecter Castle, before he says he can't get them into the country, but that he has a plan...they have to wait until his ailing father dies.

Hannibal - In Medical School, Hannibal's professor tells him what to sketch. He stays up late sketching a flayed cadaver - the face in the sketch is that of Milko

ARTWORK FEATURED:

Galerie Nationale du Jeu de Paume

Adoration of the Shepherds, Giorgione - the National Gallery

Grand Canal in Venice - Francesco Guardi - Frick Art Museum

Other various stolen pieces of artwork from WWII adorn the walls of the Galerie Nationale du Jeu de Paume

NOTES:

July 1 - Telephone service goes down in the cities of Washington, D.C., Pittsburgh, Los Angeles and San Francisco due to a software bug. About twelve million customers are affected. 

I have used the above-mentioned event as the basis of this episode. In this episode, it is a full power outage - not just telephones.

During the power outage, there are reports of a theft at the National Gallery. Several people saw suspicious activity and others saw someone remove a painting from the wall. The museum was emptied when the electricity went out, so only a few people outside, and some staff inside witnessed anything.  Since the power was out, nobody could call the police, and all sensors for the artwork did not work without electricity, nor did the security cameras. There is no evidence of the theft, beyond a few people claiming it happened...though none of them can confirm just what painting was taken...

The other problem is that there doesn’t seem to be any painting missing from any of the galleries.  Clarice must determine if there really was a theft, or if perhaps a fake was put into the real paintings place.

Investigating the museum’s security to try to determine where the thief may have entered, how the museum’s software works, when it does actually work, etc, Clarice reaches out to Margot Verger who owns and operates a software company. (in the novel she writes software for exercise equipment) since she has been disowned by her father.

Margot is a computer wizard. and Clarice ultimately winds up discovering the fact that it was, in fact, Margot who plotted the theft at the request of her father, who plans to hold it in his private collection.  Hoping to get back into his good graces, she agreed.

Instead of just taking down the Museum’s system, Margot figured it would be less suspicious to take down the power for the entire city. Having written the software the city uses for traffic lights, etc, she was easily able to hack into the grid and take it down for a short time.

This episode draws parallels to the plunder of Lecter Castle with the theft of the National Gallery.

Clarice threatens to turn Margot in, but Margot convinces her she will help Clarice get the evidence she needs to convict her father, despite all evidence leading to Trebelaux. We learn it was Margot who made the original anonymous call about her father’s museum.  They agree to work together if Margot will steal the painting back again. Put the real painting back and give her father the fake, as well as give Clarice information on the forger so she can arrest him.

We see flashbacks of Lecter in medical school, drawing the faces of the men in the lodge. 

SEASON 2, EPISODE 9: Craquelure

DATE: July 1991 FLASHBACKS:

Hannibal - Hannibal closely observes the Guardi painting in a gallery as a young boy. He looks at the stains. He flashes then to a memory of his mother telling him the marks are called “Foxing.”

Info Flashback - Trebelaux speaks to a man (we see only his back) about several paintings. He offers a great deal for the Italian ones.

Hannibal - Hannibal goes to visit the stolen paintings. He asks about the painting with Mischa's handprint

InfoFlashback - Trebelaux removes Mischa's handprint

InfoFlashback - Trebelaux sells the painting to the mysterious man. They strike up a conversation, and he says he could use him to help him start his museum. The man thanks Trebelaux, gives him his card, and Trebelaux replies "My pleasure Mr.Verger."

ARTWORK FEATURED:

Caves at Lascaux, emphasis on the handprints

NOTES:

In this episode, we learn that Trebelaux sold one of Lecter’s paintings to  Verger years ago, and that is how Verger and Trebelaux met.

Clarice dons her alter ego once again, befriending thieves she knows have likely stolen a piece of art. She attempts to become friendly enough with them that they ultimately want to show it to her to impress her. This takes several weeks. Ultimately they want to show it to her, and she must determine if it is a fake before she can get a warrant.

In order to determine if a painting is a fake, she has been studying photos of the original piece and memorizing its Craquelure - it’s a distinct pattern of cracks. By memorizing this - or a small portion (often a corner) - a painting can be identified as the real thing.  

We see flashbacks to Hannibal Lecter identifying his artwork by the foxing on the matte surrounding the painting. Another identifying feature is Mischa’s handprint, which is on the back. All of these elements authenticate his piece, but Trebelaux removes Mischa’s handprint, making the piece more difficult to claim. 

SEASON 2, EPISODE 10: The Adoration of the Mystic Lamb

DATE: August 1991 FLASHBACKS:

Hannibal - Hannibal goes to visit his painting and is told he's been removed from the list, the painting was claimed by someone else

Info Flashback - Trebeleaux and Milko discuss Hannibal Lecter and agree he needs to be taken care of

 Hannibal - Hannibal works late in the lab, sketching. Milko comes in, there is a fight. We do not see all of it, nor do we hear all of their conversations.  Milko says something that clearly upsets Hannibal greatly, but we see this from afar.. (We will find out what he is told in the season 2 finale)  Milko is placed in the cadaver tank and drowns.

 Hannibal - Milko's father dies in Lithuania. The remaining paintings from Lecter Castle are placed into his casket. (In the novel it’s Dortlitch’s father)

ARTWORK FEATURED:

The Ghent Altarpiece by Jan Van Eyck in Saint Bavo's Cathedral in Ghent, Belgium

Mammelokker, seen above the Belfry in Saint Bavo's Cathedral in Ghent, Belgium

Assorted paintings from Lecter Castle put into the casket of Milko’s father.

NOTES:

This episode about the Ghent Altarpiece by Jan Van Eyck, which is an absolutely stunning piece. Its secondary name is “The Adoration of the Mystic Lamb.” for which we get the title of the episode, because who am I to pass over lamb imagery for this series?

The Altarpiece has been a part of THIRTEEN crimes and has been stolen SIX times over the years. It is the most stolen piece of artwork in the world. Each time it was found or returned (in one instance by the Monuments Men in WWII), except for once...in 1934 the panel entitled “The Just Judges” or “The Righteous Judges” which has never been found. Jef Van der Veken (an art forger) painted a replacement for the piece, which is what you will see if you visit it today. 

 The thief of “The Just Judges” tried to negotiate its ransom via letters, but was unsuccessful. 

Comically,  A witness spotted two people leaving the cathedral that night with a panel-sized package wrapped in a black sheet tucked under an arm. This witness ALSO happened to be participating in a completely different robbery - of a cheese shop across the street from the Cathedral.

The investigator on the case back in 1934 also did not seem terribly concerned...he himself covering the theft of the art AND the theft of the cheese shop - reports say the officer seemed to be more interested in the Cheese shop theft.

The thief of the altarpiece panel was almost certainly Arsène Goedertier, a stockbroker heavily active in the church.  No one really knows the motive, as he didn’t need the money (he was wealthy). In his desk, on his death were found carbon copies of the 12 ransom letters, and a 13th letter that was never sent. The 13th note indicated that the panel was safe - but that it was hidden somewhere that nobody could access without attracting the notice of the public. 

Obviously the above is insane, completely true and too good to pass up and not use. So...for our story The Bishop of Ghent has heard much about Clarice Starling and the works she has managed to recover with her team. He reaches out hoping that she might be able to help solve this long-forgotten case.

Hannibal Lecter, of course, is prying around being his own annoying self. At one point he pulls Clarice into a confessional in the cathedral to tell her some information. A tight and intimate space and a lot of sexual tension.  Again, she is not amused. He, on the other hand, is constantly amused by her.

At one point they are in the cathedral talking about the case, about the artwork, and Clarice mentions the original officer in the ‘30s did a shoddy job because he was distracted with the cheese shop, to which Hannibal Lecter replies “In his defense, it is an excellent cheese shop.”

Johnny sees Clarice and Dr.Fell speaking and approaches Clarice, confused. He knows that she has worked with Dr.Fell before, but the last time was in Japan - when Dr.Fell knew her as Elizabeth Chase. Clarice explains that Dr.Fell now knows her real identity, and has been very helpful in helping her navigate the art world.  Johnny is unnerved. He cannot prove Dr.Fell was involved in any of the crimes in Japan alongside Soah...but he heavily suspects that he was. 

I had two problems to solve with this episode.  1. We don’t really know where the painting is, but I need to “Solve” this case somehow - at least fictionally.  2. Hannibal Lecter’s paintings are hidden in the coffin of Milko’s father...his casket taken over the border of Lithuania and buried (above ground) in a crypt in Sweden. How the HECK will Hannibal figure THAT out?  It is not ever resolved in Hannibal Rising.

Both of these issues are solved with the same case.  Ultimately, Clarice and Lecter are having a discussion about her father, and she mentions he was buried with his hat, but not his star. She pauses for a moment.  “Wait...wait!”  Clarice realizes what has happened. She checks with the church, and finds that Goedertier is buried in the crypt beneath the church...they have him exhumed, and sure enough, he has been buried with the stolen panel. The case is solved...but now Hannibal Lecter is spurred onward. Clarice’s discovery makes him wonder...could the same thing have happened to his paintings? He begins to do some digging into the families of the men he has killed.

The episode ends with Hannibal Lecter going to Sweden and entering the crypt of Milko’s father...he opens the coffin, and sure enough - his paintings are there. He is pleased. He writes Clarice a lovely letter. It doesn’t go into specifics of how she helped him - but he indicates that she’s been instrumental in helping him find something that belonged to him.

August 19 – Dissolution of the Soviet Union: Soviet President Mikhail Gorbachev is put under house arrest while vacationing in the Crimea during a coup. The attempted coup, led by Vice President Gennady Yanayev and seven hard-liners attempting to usurp control, collapses in less than 72 hours.

August 20 - Dissolution of the Soviet Union: More than 100,000 people rally outside the Soviet Union's parliament building protesting the coup that deposed President Mikhail Gorbachev.

The Mammelokker sculpture is shown in this episode and is meant to be foreshadowing to Clarice offering her breast to Hannibal Lecter like at the end of the novel (Spoilers - eventually!)

SEASON 2, EPISODE 11: Operation Atilla

DATE: September 1991 FLASHBACKS:

Hannibal - Mischa in her bathtub, among the cabbage roses and bubbles. Hannibal watches over her.

Hannibal - The Lodge, Hannibal is ill. A quick flash of Mischa's bathtub, water boiling in it

InfoFlashback - Trebelaux removes Mischa's handprint

Hannibal - Hannibal goes to visit his painting and is told he's been removed from the list, the painting was claimed by someone else

ARTWORK FEATURED:

Kanakaria Mosaics

NOTES:

Please note that Operation Atilla in this instance DOES NOT refer to the Nazi occupation of Vichy, France, but instead the actions of the  Turkish armed forces during the invasion of Cyprus in the 1970s.  What followed was looting of Cypriot Orthodox Churches on a level not seen since WWII.  Most notable, some Kanakaria Mosaics and frescoes were sold to museums around the world.  People like Aydin Dikman and others have managed to get rich off of the looting of old churches and selling pieces to museums. 

When a church collapses in Cyprus due to a terrible earthquake, Clarice Starling knows that Hannibal Lecter will not be able to resist going. In the past, during times of war, earthquake, other acts of God, looting often becomes a problem. Clarice journeys to visit with government and church officials in an attempt to figure out a wide-scale plan to keep items from leaving the island.

When visiting one of the churches late in the evening after some official discussions with the government and local police, she runs into Hannibal Lecter. She is not surprised or caught off guard. She figured he would get there eventually. They banter a bit about his collection of church collapses and walk around the rubble. She asks him if he’s at all upset over the loss of art? He seems unphased but admits that the events of Operation Atilla in the 70s were unfortunate. 

As the sun sets we hear a noise in the rubble. At first, they think it’s an animal of some kind and continue their discussion, Lecter pointing out a mosaic at her feet that intrigues her. After another moment he pulls her behind a tree - someone is walking in the rubble of the church.  She peeks her head around the trunk of the tree and is shocked to see it’s Pierre Trebelaux and two of his workmen. Her eyes narrow, and she tells Lecter “It’s one of the men I’m investigating. Verger’s curator - Pierre Trebelaux.”  Lecter pauses and asks her to repeat the name. As she does so he peeks around, immediately recognizing the man. We have quick flashbacks of scenes we’re already previously seen - Trebelaux letting a young Hannibal know his painting has been claimed by someone else, and the removal of Mischa’s handprint from his artwork.

Clarice is immediately aware of the change in Lecter’s demeanor. “What is it?” He tells her that’s the man who sold several of his family’s paintings away, despite him already having a previous claim on them. He makes a move to step out from behind their hiding place.  Clarice grabs him and begs him to stop - to please not kill Trebelaux. She’s been working on the case for months. This incident is just the thing she needs to put him away. 

Lecter grabs her by the wrists, angry, hissing at her. He tells her she’s made the grave mistake of becoming complacent, of forgetting who he is and what he is capable of. Clarice stares him in the eyes, not afraid. He cools after a moment and releases her. She then asks him to promise to let her handle Trebelaux - and she promises him that she WILL take care of him. She won’t let him get away with any of it. Not the issues with the Verger Museum, nor any of the crimes committed against his family. Lecter reluctantly agrees. Clarice doesn’t speak her hesitation, but ultimately she isn’t sure if the Doctor will be able to keep his promise.

September 2 – The United States re-recognizes the independence of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania and the US government reopens the embassies there.

 September 6 - Singing Revolution: The Soviet Union recognizes the independence of the Baltic states.

September 17 – North Korea, South Korea, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, the Marshall Islands and Micronesia join the United Nations.

SEASON 2, EPISODE 12: Ein Männlein steht im Walde

DATE: December 1991 FLASHBACKS:

Hannibal - The orphanage - A child taunts a smaller child. Young Hannibal retaliates.

Hannibal - Hannibal is punished for his misbehavior, and is told he is "No longer the Lord of the Manor."

 Hannibal - Hannibal shares his candy with a smaller child.

Hannibal - Simonetta stashing her jewelry in a boar's head and declaring "Pearls before swine."

ARTWORK FEATURED:

Ein Männlein steht im Waldem - a song by Heinrich Hoffmann von Fallersleben

The painting that was destroyed is not real in this episode but would be a portrait painted by the real-life Russian painter Vasily Ivanovich Surikov.

NOTES:

Ein Männlein steht im Walde refers to the song that Hannibal would sing to his sister. It literally means “The Little Man in the Woods.” In this episode, we see Hannibal in the woods walking towards the lodge.

December 23 - Clarice's Birthday

December 25 - Dissolution of the Soviet Union: Mikhail Gorbachev resigns as president of the Soviet Union, from which most republics have already seceded, anticipating the dissolution of the 74-year-old state.

December 26 – The Supreme Soviet meets for a final time, formally dissolves the Soviet Union, ending the Cold War. All remaining Soviet institutions eventually cease operation on December 31.

We see Lecter visiting his Ancestral home. He cannot go inside as it is an orphanage, but he walks around the grounds at night and has memories of living there as a child, as well as memories as an orphan.

Hannibal visits the lodge in the woods. He finds the boars head in the rubble on the floor, removes its false back and pulls out a handful of his mother’s jewelry.

This is Ardelia’s first appearance in an official capacity on Clarice’s Art Crime Team. Having a background as a lawyer, she will be brought in to deal with legal issues - she is not generally on the ground with the rest of her team, and thus does not run into Dr.Fell like the rest of her team occasionally does.  Ardelia, obviously, would know him, because she’s the smartest person in this story.

This episode is heavily inspired by a plane crash off the coast of Nova Scotia, which took place on Sept 2, 1998. Onboard was a priceless Picasso, which was ultimately lost at sea.

Germany and Russia argue over the ownership of the painting. The events dissolving the Soviet Union make the case less than cut and dry. Ardelia is shown to not be intimidated AT ALL by Government authorities of Russia or Germany. She is actually...kind of more of a badass than Clarice.

This episode explores the idea of ownership. Does anyone ever really own artwork? And if so, who owns it? What happens when its country of origin is no longer a country? What happens when governments change, laws change, when the ower dies, etc?

Lecter writes Clarice a letter wishing her a happy birthday as he travels to his ancestral home. He doesn't tell her where he is specifically, but he references the events happening with the fall of the USSR and says that for many the war was not over until this day as the cold war followed so swiftly on the heels of WWII and that for some the war may never be over -  that its ramifications can and still be seen through history. 

Along with the letter, Hannibal Lecter has included an extraordinary gift for Clarice - a beautiful necklace. Clarice does not yet know, but the necklace belonged to Simonetta Lecter. The stones from the necklace have been in Simonetta’s family for hundreds of years - once owned by Caterina Sforza.

SEASON 2, EPISODE 13: Whoso List to Hunt

DATE: January 1992 FLASHBACKS:

Hannibal - Simonetta Lecter stashing her jewelry in a boar's head and declaring "Pearls before swine." (We’ve seen this flashback before. It is repeated in this episode to re-establish where Clarice’s necklace came from)

Hannibal - An Injured deer with an arrow in its side, Mischa being taken away

ARTWORK FEATURED:

Whoso List to Hunt, a Poem by Sir Thomas Wyatt

The Swing by Fragonard, The Wallace Collection in London

The Halt During the Chase, by Jean-Antoine Watteau, The Wallace Collection in London

The Grand Canal in Venice - Canaletto, Getty Collection

Anne Boleyn by Hans Holbein the Younger, owned by the Royal Trust, in the collection of Molson Verger for this narrative

Greensleeves, a song by Henry VIII

Wound Man by Hans von Gersdorff

The Allegory of Passion by Hans Holbein, owned by the John Paul Getty Museum. 

NOTES:

This episode is HEAVILY influenced by the poem Whoso List to Hunt by Sir Thomas Wyatt. The poem uses the metaphor of a hunter perusing a deer. The deer is hard to catch. The hunter is lagging - and the king has claimed the deer, putting a necklace around its neck. The poem is typically believed to depict the relationship between Sir Thomas Wyatt, Anne Boleyn, and Henry VIII, with Henry staking his claim on Anne, and Wyatt knowing he must give up.  The poem will be recited in the episode, and it will become clear that Johnny = Wyatt, Clarice = Anne, and Henry VIII = Lecter.

This episode also features a piece by Hans Holbien entitled The Allegory of Passion. A little bit of info about this piece - it shows rider upon a horse. Notes on the painting are as follows: Being carried away by love is one thing. But being absorbed with animal-like passion is quite another. It’s the latter kind that was, and frequently still is, frowned upon. The rider looks us in the eye and clings himself to the manes of the horse. He rather seems to enjoy himself. The panicked look of the animal tell us that this ride is not going to stop anytime soon. Wild animal passion is set loose. From the motto at the bottom of the painting, we can tell that this really is an allegory of love and not just a depiction of a horse ride gone wrong. ‘E cosi desio me mena’ (‘And so desire carries me along’) is a line rather similar to one of the poet Petrarch’s (1304-74) Canzoniere.  Of course, this represents Lecter - who throughout the entire series is depicted as an animal seducing a human (Dream of a Fisherman’s Wife, Leda and the Swan, The Rape of Europa, The Allegory of Passion)

Though John Paul Getty lived in America, he had an English country home where he kept his mistresses.  Once again I am taking inspiration from Getty - Molson Verger, an American who also has an English country home for the same purpose.  It’s also a great place for hunting. In this story, it is located in Kent - not far from Hever Castle - the childhood home of Anne Boleyn.

FULL EPISODE SUMMARY:

Clarice officially turns over her information to the F.B.I regarding seeing Trebelaux looting a church in Cyprus. Molson Verger, outraged that Trebelaux has been caught, fires him. Threbelaux doesn’t take it well - knowing full well that Molson is firing him to make it look as if he is the only one who is guilty - and not both of them. Trebelaux yells, screams and threatens revenge, and ultimately is removed from the premises - though not before snagging a recently acquired Holbein, The Allegory of Passion, as well as Lecter’s Canaletto. 

Trebelaux settles in a small cottage nearby the estate, anxiously awaiting an impending trial where his guilt will no doubt be assured.  We watch him begin to formulate a plan, making calls, writing letters...

Molson Verger, in an attempt to do his best to continue to look like he is being supportive of the investigation against his museum calls Clarice Starling and asks if she would like to visit his English Country home for an old fashioned English Country House Party - interesting guests in the art community, some deer hunting, lots of food and alcohol, and of course...what would a house party be without the occasional dalliance? And of course, Verger would be happy to discuss any further information about Trebelaux over the weekend as well...he wants transparency, after all...

Clarice doesn’t think this would be very professional, but when she talks to Johnny about it, he thinks it might be a good opportunity to look at the situation a little closer. Up until now, they have met with Verger in an official capacity, and only briefly. Maybe if they are with him for a long weekend, he or one of his art friends might drop interesting information - or maybe they might have time to search through the house for any incriminating records.  Clarice agrees that there is merit to this and agrees to join the House Party.

Clarice and Johnny arrive and are shown to their separate rooms. When Clarice comes downstairs, she runs into Margot Verger. The last time she saw Margot was in Washington D.C. when they made an agreement. Margot tells Clarice she knows why Clarice is there, and that she wants to help in whatever way that she can. She knows Trebelaux was guilty, but she thinks her father is using Trebelaux to take the fall - she firmly believes that her father is also guilty. Clarice says a good opportunity will present itself, and that she appreciates Margot’s help. 

Most of the guests have already arrived and are in the billiard room drinking before dinner.  Molson Verger takes Clarice into the room and begins to introduce her to people. She is shocked when she finds that Dr.Fell has somehow made the guest list. He smiles at her, and she is incredulous. After some small talk with a few other people, she heads over to a corner and motions for him to come to her, which he does, offering her a glass of wine, which she takes.

She asks Lecter if he is there to kill Trebelaux - if he is, he’s too late - Trebelaux is no longer in Verger’s employ. He tells her he’s well aware of their agreement and shrugs her question away. He says he is here looking for the Canaletto, but it seems Trebelaux ran away with it when he was fired. She then asks him, despite his cosmetic changes over the years, how on earth he managed to not be recognized by Molson - after all, Lecter attacked his son Mason years ago.  Lecter mentions that Molson spent the majority of Margot and Mason’s childhood in England enjoying the company of his mistresses and his art collection while his children lived in America. He never attended the Lecter trial.

Margot walks into the room, and Clarice is concerned.  “How does Margot not know it’s you?” she asks.  Dr. Lecter takes a sip of his wine and leans against the window. “Oh, she knows,” he says.  Clarice raises her eyebrow. She confesses Margot is helping her, and that even if Margot hadn’t known Lecter’s identity, she had some leverage she could have used.  Lecter shakes his head. “Tsk, tsk.”

Later in the evening, Clarice speaks with Margot. Margot admits that she rather likes Dr.Lecter. He was a good therapist to her during a terrible, terrible time in her life. She reveals some of the things Lecter told her to comfort her, and Clarice is oddly moved, looking across the room, locking eyes with Lecter as she continues to speak to Margot. Clarice knows how badly Margot was treated by her brother, and she has witnessed first hand the cruelty her father subjects her to, and she is glad to know that someone was kind and honest with her when she needed it most. 

The next day, preparing for the hunt, Clarice and Lecter manage to speak to one another again.  Clarice mentions that Margot shared some information from her therapy sessions with him. Lecter says that if Margot has chosen to share, that is her right, but as her doctor, he would never reveal anything about their sessions without her permission.  Clarice is further moved and asks if he would ever reveal the things they’ve discussed about her father, the lambs, etc. He says he would not, that it is all stored in her medical files - he points to his head.

Johnny comes downstairs and interrupts Clarice and Dr.Fell. He is rather short and impolite with Dr.Fell. He had been watching them the night previous. He is not Dr.Fell’s biggest fan. He doesn’t think he’s honest. He also has to admit he doesn’t like the way Clarice and Dr.Fell act when they are together.

Everyone heads out to the hunt - some on foot and some on horseback. Clarice canters up to Dr.Fell’s horse and they begin talking about Hannah. Dr.Lecter tells her about his own horse from his childhood - Caesar. The Doctor has not confided much to her about his personal life beyond the fact that his family was killed and his estate pillaged, she doesn’t know the details. She is curious to learn something about him.

During the deer hunt, Hannibal Lecter suffers a flashback to the wounded deer in the snow. Clarice only notices that he seems to be breathing a bit heavily. He excuses himself from the hunt early. The rest of the hunting party doesn’t seem concerned. The hunt - after all - is not for everyone. She sees the body of the deer, and she herself is unsettled and turns back to the house. Brigham watches Clarice depart, knowing she’s going in search of Dr.Fell.

Back at the house, she goes in search of Lecter. When she finds him, she cannot quite bear asking him if he is alright, but dances around the subject, hoping her presence will be enough to convey her concern.  

Lecter is seated in one of the drawing rooms at a harpsichord playing Greensleeves. He tells her a bit about the composition, saying it was said to have been composed by Henry VIII for Anne Boleyn, but this more than likely not true. Anne Boleyn’s home, Hever Castle, however, is only a couple miles away - he thinks perhaps Verger has a Holbein sketch of Anne Boleyn at the house - perhaps they could find it?  He tells her a bit about Holbein and Anne Boleyn as they walk through the various drawing rooms looking at Verger’s art. He tells her of Thomas Wyatt, of the poem Whoso List to Hunt. “A very different kind of hunt.” he says, referencing the hunt from earlier in the day. They then discuss the Holbein The Allegory of Passion, which Trebelaux supposedly nabbed before being fired. “Being carried away by love is one thing. But being absorbed with animal-like passion is quite another.”

That night is another formal evening. Clarice is beautifully dressed with an emerald necklace around her neck. Dr.Lecter is thrilled to see her wearing the necklace he had given her. Clarice is comfortable in formal wear, and ultimately very happy hobnobbing with all of the rich people of the art world who are at the party. She is laughing and having a delightful time.

Johnny stands in the corner in black tie, but fuming. He finds himself jealous and disgusted. He goes to Clarice and pulls her aside and tells her this isn’t like her - that despite not being undercover, she’s acting more like her other identity, the haughty, snobby Elizabeth Chase. Of course, this is not the first time Clarice has considered this - a letter from Lecter months before essentially confirming the same thing. Angry, she tries to deny Johnny’s accusations, despite knowing them to be true. When he asks her where her necklace came from, she is silent and Johnny understands. He understands that Dr.Fell has given it to her and that the necklace is Dr.Fell’s way of declaring that Clarice belongs to him - at least as much as Clarice can ever belong to anyone or be tamed  (There is written her fair neck round about,'Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am, And wild for to hold, though I seem tame.)  He realizes that Clarice also has feelings for Dr.Fell, something she denies, though privately is conflicted.

The next morning when Clarice and Lecter bow out of the second Deer Hunt, Johnny is angry and heads out, annoyed that she is choosing to stay behind with Fell.  As soon as everyone is gone, Margot comes downstairs and the three of them break into Verger’s office. Margot stands guard outside of the office in case someone comes back.

Clarice and Lecter go into the office and begin to rifle through things. As they work,  Clarice tells Lecter of her discussion with Johnny about Elizabeth Chase and that Johnny believes Dr.Fell to be in love with her. Lecter looks across the desk at her. Clarice looks away nervously.  Lecter then says that Johnny is jealous - that Johnny is in love with her. Clarice says that’s absurd.  He looks at her again, serious - “Surely you know when a man is in love with you?” he asks. Again she looks away nervously. He asks if she loves Johnny.  She does not respond. He asks if she wished she did love Johnny.

Verger’s desk is a beautiful 18th-century piece with many hidden drawers and compartments. Clarice mentions a similar one sold at Sotheby’s recently, and she had the opportunity to observe it in person. Lecter is pleased with her knowledge. His impression grows when she finds a secret compartment. Unfortunate it is locked, but Clarice uses a hairpin to break the lock. Lecter is delighted. Clarice grabs the paperwork inside, but they do not have time to look through it before Margot whispers that her father is coming back.

There is no time for them to exit, and Lecter pulls Clarice into a 16th-century Armoire. In such cramped quarters, they are very aware of one another physically, their bodies pressed close to one another. Clarice is very much aware she is sexually attracted to the Doctor - something she’s been trying to deny.

Margot goes into the office and tries to distract her father. Eventually, after some discussion, she is successful and he leaves the room with Margot in tow.  Lecter and Clarice hold back in the Armoire for a while to make sure the coast is really and truly clear. She whispers what an odd house party this has been. He says it seems pretty typical - a house party often finds people stealing moments in dark corners. He kisses her.  When they part he tells her house parties also often see people bed-hopping and knocking on people’s doors at night- the question is, whose door will she knock on tonight? He is, of course, referencing both Johnny and himself.  He kisses her again, and when they part a second time he asks her to “Come to me tonight.” She is silent for a long time. “He’s better than you.” She says, about Johnny, trying to convince herself. “He’s good, and honest and kind.”  Lecter agrees, Johnny is all of those things, and he himself is none of those things.  “You and he have nothing in common.” She says. “Ah,” he says, kissing her again, “That’s where you’re wrong.” She pulls away after a moment, overcome, and rather than respond, she opens the door of the armoire and leaves.

That night at dinner, Clarice finds herself very much tempted. She cannot stop thinking about Lecter and she’s angry at him for seeing through her so easily. She’s also angry with Johnny for confronting her about her behavior. She watches Lecter over the burning tapers across the dinner table and he looks at her hungrily. Johnny notices and is still jealous.  

Later that evening, after much wine, discussion, and singing, people begin to make excuses to leave the room in pairs and go upstairs. It is clear that most people at the party have paired up with someone. 

Pacing around her bedroom in the evening, Clarice finally goes out into the hall and stands in front of the bedroom doors of Dr.Lecter and Johnny, eventually knocking on one of them.  We see the inside of the room and the back of its occupant - but we cannot quite see who it is.  Clarice goes to him and kisses him passionately.

After a moment, we ultimately see that it is Johnny. He is confused at first, but she asks him “Isn’t this what you wanted?” and he admits that yes, of course, he wants her.  Clarice, unable to bring herself to go to Lecter, instead sleeps with Johnny while thinking of Lecter.

The next morning when Clarice goes downstairs, one of the servants tells her that Dr.Fell departed early that morning for the continent, but that he left a package for her. She is handed the small package, unwraps it, and discovers it is The Allegory of Passion. She knows something horrible has happened to Trebelaux.

Pierre Trebelaux’s body is found in the woods where the deer hunts have taken place the past couple of days. He is pinned to a tree and displayed like Wound Man.  Clarice immediately knows that it was Hannibal Lecter’s doing - and that he must have killed the man late in the night - just after she chose to go to Johnny’s bed instead of his.

SEASON 2, EPISODE 14: The Sacrifice of Iphigenia

DATE: February 1992 FLASHBACKS:

Clarice - Watching TV with Ardelia, and seeing Senator Martin, desperate to get her daughter back 

Hannibal - Young Hannibal goes to a Canadian Taxidermist (Grentz) with the intention of killing him. He is too late - Grentz has already moved elsewhere.

InfoFlashback - We see Trebeleaux, some time between being fired and being killed by Lecter. He is speaking to a man and discusses kidnapping Margot.

ARTWORK FEATURED:

The Mask of Agamemnon

The Sacrifice of Iphigenia,  François Perrier

NOTES:

This episode is heavily inspired by the Getty kidnapping of 1973, in which John Paul Getty’s grandson was kidnapped and held for ransom. Getty, cheap and uncaring did not want to pay the ransom, despite being incredibly wealthy and easily able to do so.

Margot Verger, despite being disowned by her father, despite trying to help Clarice plot her father’s downfall, is none the less always trying to find ways into her father’s good graces in an attempt to be written back into his will (see episode 2:8 The Plunder). Her father has recently purchased a couple of expensive pieces from Greece, and she agrees to be the one to escort the art to America to the Verger museum now that Trebelaux is no longer in his employ to oversee the transfer.

While heading back from Greece, Margot is captured by several Sardinian criminals (Carlo, Mateo, Tommaso, and Piero, who appear in this storyline earlier than they do in the novel Hannibal.) At first it is believed that kidnapping had to do with the artwork, but in reality, it had to do with Margot. It is soon uncovered that Pierre Trebelaux, before being killed, hired the Sardinians to kidnap Margot in an effort to get revenge upon Verger.

Clarice - and really the world - are horrified by the kidnapping. It is major world news. Clarice is still talking with Verger every now and then, as his case is ongoing. She wonders if there is anything the F.B.I. can do to help - even if her Art Crime Team Division obviously would not be able to help with a kidnapping- maybe another section of the F.B.I could?  Of course, she quickly is reminded by the F.B.I. that the United States doesn’t negotiate with kidnappers, terrorists, etc, so the fact that Margot is an American Citizen doesn’t really help them - there isn’t much that they can do, unless Verger is willing to pay the ransom privately, which he is legally at liberty to do.

Clarice is aghast when Verger receives a ransom note and refuses to pay it. She thinks of her own relationship with her father. She also thinks back on the Buffalo Bill Case - of how desperate Senator Martin had been to get her daughter back, and she just doesn’t understand how Verger wouldn't simply write a check when he has plenty of money to do so. This causes her a lot feelings about her own father, and she finds herself very close emotionally to this case. Dangerously close. 

Clarice paces back and forth, talking to Johnny, furious at Verger, but unable to confront him. Eventually, she comes upon the idea of manipulating Verger into letting her go after Margot by making him believe that she is going after the artwork. After all...that’s what her division of the F.B.I does, isn’t it?   Would he be willing to pay the ransom for the art and not his daughter? Though there isn’t really a ransom out for the paintings - Clarice convinces Verger she can get the pieces back with his cash.

 She manages to convince herself that if she rescues both Margot AND the paintings, then she is still essentially doing her job and not stepping on any boundary issues. However, she knows she cannot drag her other agents into this. What she is doing would be frowned upon and she will not let them take the heat for it. She’s hoping that it’s better to beg forgiveness than ask permission - after all, if she’s successful on both fronts, clearly no one will complain?

Hannibal Lecter has been moving throughout Europe, perusing some leads on some artwork from Lecter Castle. Knowing the Trebelaux stole a good deal of his art has helped him gain a few leads in where some of his pieces might be.

Trebelaux, upon being fired, stole several pieces from the Verger Collection - Among them, the Canaletto from Lecter Castle, which he sold to Verger years before back in France, and Lecter had been looking for in Whoso List to Hunt.

Trebelaux went on to sell the Canaletto to another dealer in the hopes of getting enough money to disappear without a trace.. Obviously, he was not successful, having been killed by Hannibal Lecter before he could get anywhere.  Still, Lecter was able to track down to whom the Canaletto was sold..

Tracking down the Canaletto, Lecter is about to kill the dealer who purchased it from Trebelaux, but the dealer begins to beg and spill all kinds of information in the hopes that Lecter will spare his life.  Did he know this Trebelaux fellow was being investigated? Lecter wants to know. Yes, but he needed the Money - he figured he could sell the Canaletto for a lot more than he gave Trebelaux for it. Plenty of museums would be interested in.  Then Lecter wants to know if Trebelaux told him anything about any other paintings from Lecter Castle?  The dealer isn’t sure -  Trebeleaux had mentioned the Verger case, had mentioned wanting to get even, and had mentioned the kidnapping of Margot while transporting artwork into the U.S. What artwork, Lecter wants to know.  The Dealer says he isn’t sure about that - it had something to do with a mask?

Lecter politely thanks the dealer for this helpful information and walks away with a pleasant smile. The dealer breaths a sigh of relief at having gotten away alive.  After a moment he looks down and finds he’s been stabbed and is bleeding out. He didn’t even feel the knife go in.

Lecter has been mildly disturbed by the kidnapping. He likes Margot well enough. But now that he knows that stolen artwork is involved - he knows Clarice will not be far behind. Due to her background and need to save the lambs, he also knows that she will be trying to save Margot, and in order to do this, she will have to essentially pretend to be going in for the paintings. He decides to look in on Clarice and Margot...

Margot is shown putting up quite a fight with the kidnappers. She’s frightened, but she is smart and strong and not easily broken. She gives them the artwork and asks if they will let her go. The episode ends when they let her know that they didn’t kidnap her for the artwork - they kidnapped HER. Piero has a quiet moment with her and tells her not to worry - they mean her no harm as long as her father pays the ransom in a timely manner.  They lock her in a room and she cries alone, knowing her father doesn’t love her and that she’s doomed - her father will never pay the ransom. 

Despite being heavy-handed, Verger is meant to represent Agamemnon, and Margo represents his daughter Iphigenia. Agamemnon offends the Goddess Artemis and she retaliates by preventing Greek Troops from reaching Troy unless Agamemnon kills Iphigenia as a human sacrifice. Obviously, the beautiful Greek Mask of Agamemnon and the painting The Sacrifice of Iphigenia re-assert this.

SEASON 2, EPISODE 15: The Persistence of Memory

DATE: March 1992 FLASHBACKS:

Hannibal - While drugged, Hannibal experiences quick flashes of everything we've previously seen. Parents being killed. Mischa screaming. Hannibal's arm is broken. Hannibal in chains. Hannibal mocked by other children in the orphanage. Him killing Mischa's murderers. Grutas telling him Mischa was eaten - but we add to this a new flashback, we've not yet seen - We see Milko urging Hannibal to eat, and then we see Hannibal and Milko squaring off and Milko declaring that Hannibal also ate his sister.

ARTWORK FEATURED:

The Death of Marat by David

Abraham and Isaac by Rembrandt

The Persistence of Memory  by Salvador Dali

The Mask of Agamemnon

The Sacrifice of Iphigenia,  François Perrier

NOTES:

While Dali’s The Persistence of Memory is seen briefly in the episode, the title mainly refers, quite literally, to the persistence of Memory - Hannibal Lecter’s memories.

After some globetrotting and investigating, Lecter and Clarice both manage to find out where Margot is being held a prisoner in Sardinia.

Clarice finds out that both The Mask of Agamemnon and The Sacrifice of Iphigenia are for sale on the black market. Unfortunately, they are for sale through different dealers. She assumes this means that the Sardinians have already sold them. However, if they interview both people and find they have a common seller, she can trace back the location of the Sards. Johnny agrees to go undercover to get information on The Mask of Agamemnon with another agent, while Clarice once again poses as Elizabeth Chase alongside one of her agents, and meets a different dealer in another town regarding The Sacrifice of Iphigenia.

Clarice’s questions quickly anger the people she is speaking to, and it becomes obvious that the kidnappers have already sold The Mask of Agamemnon, but they have not yet managed to sell The Sacrifice of Iphigenia. Thinking she was speaking to a buyer - she quickly finds she’s talking to the original kidnappers.  Clarice goes for her gun, but it is too late - they grab her and place her in the locked room with Margot Verger. 

The kidnappers don’t know Clarice’s real name. They have Elizabeth Chase’s ID.

There is a bit of an argument amongst the kidnappers about the use of the gun. Clarice’s gun went off while they fought with her, and it could have alerted someone with the noise. 

The kidnappers, unsure if Elizabeth Chase came with anyone else, send a man to sit outside the building with a dart gun and keep watch. The dart gun makes less noise and takes someone down without killing them.

Margot is defeated and surprised to find Clarice having come to her rescue, even if she failed spectacularly in that rescue. Clarice says not to worry - that Johnny will come to their aid. He’s in another town, but he has a flight to meet up with her the next evening. Once she doesn’t show up, he’ll know something has gone wrong. 

Hannibal Lecter has figured out where Margot was taken through similar, but less honest avenues than Clarice, speaking to thieves and forgers and seeing if anyone knows anything. Nearby, he heard Clarice’s gun go off and was alerted to her location.

Clarice and Margot work to assess their surroundings and see what, if anything, they can use in order to aide their escape. They have a little food and water, a plate for the food, a single bed, sheets, the clothes on their back and not much else...the building doesn’t seem to be very big, and the door seems to have a fairly normal lock, but they don’t have much they can use to pick it. Clarice comes upon the idea of using the metal underwire from her bra both to pick the lock and possibly use it as a weapon. But they need to know how many men there are, what the patrolling issue is - has she taken notice of the times they come to give her food, march by her door, change shifts, etc?  They quickly begin to formulate a plan but are interrupted when they hear some commotion outside.  They race to the barred window but are unable to tell what happened.

A few minutes later Hannibal Lecter is brought in.  Piero notes that he will not tell anyone who he is. They have not figured out his identity. They throw Lecter into the room, and it is obvious that he is not well. He only manages a few words before losing consciousness. He has been shot with a tranquilizer dart.

Margot and Clarice had been close to formulating an exit strategy during a shift change, but now that Hannibal Lecter is with them, Clarice says she cannot leave him here alone.  Without Clarice’s help, there is no use for Margot to try to escape - they need the manpower.  Clarice hopes if Lecter can survive the tranquilizer, he can add to their manpower and help them.

Clarice worries - what if Johnny finds out she’s missing and comes alone, without reinforcements?  Johnny could be killed.  What if Johnny does rescue them and Lecter is still there - Lecter will be put into jail. She finds suddenly she isn’t sure she wants that either. What if Hannibal Lecter does not live?

Suddenly, we see a scene of Lecter standing in a gallery looking at a large painting of the Sacrifice of Issac. We hear footsteps coming down the hallway. He turns as Clarice approaches him. They both look at the painting together. “Do you think..” he asks, “That God wanted to eat Isaac?” Clarice is puzzled by the question, “No.” She replies, “The angel intervened in time.”  Hannibal Lecter turns to her. “Not always.” Suddenly the painting falls to the floor - other paintings on the walls begin to tremble. The walls suddenly fall away, the floor beneath them crumbling. It suddenly becomes evident that we are inside of Lecter’s Mind Palace, and its walls are crumbling. As they are pulled in opposite directions, Clarice reaches out to him, calling out to him, but the memory rips in half.

We cut back to their secured room, where Clarice is still calling out to Dr.Lecter. He is only half-conscious and whatever he has been given is clearly causing him to hallucinate. Clarice tries to calm him, grabs his hand, lays him down, but still, he writhes and screams. Sometimes he calls out names she does not know - Mischa, Jakov, etc. Margot mentions she was given the same thing Lecter was when she tried to fight her captors once - and that she had had terrible nightmares about Mason hurting her again.  As time goes on, Clarice realizes he’s not just hallucinating - he’s reliving memories. She’s panic-stricken - she is not afraid of him, but she is afraid for him as she tries to hold him back from accidentally hurting himself, as he screams about things she doesn’t understand.  Eventually, she begins to make connections about the things that happened to him, which only causes her more anguish. She has only seen the Doctor composed. The most un-composed she’s ever really witnessed were times he was angry. She’s never seen him afraid. She begins to understand how their pasts are alike.

The Doctor eventually recovers and the three prisoners plan their escape. Clarice picks the lock with her underwire metal, and with shards of glass from a plate of food, Lecter manages to cut Mateo. Carlo runs in and the sheets from the bed are thrown over his head. Carlo escapes with his life, but Mateo dies. Tomasso and Piero were a different shift and Carlo runs to find them on the other side of town, but it is too late.

Lecter, Clarice, and Margot manage to find the painting on the premises. Hannibal Lecter flees before the F.B.I. arrives. When Johnny arrives, he has The Mask of Agamemnon. Both pieces of art are safe and given back to Margot.

Margot returns safely home to give her father his artwork. He is in his bathtub and is pleased to see his art, but does not particularly care that his daughter is home safe. As her father leans back in his bath and closes his eyes, Margot Verger slits his throat.

Clarice, having rescued two paintings, as well as Margot Verger is a hero. Paul Krendler is furious at her conduct, furious that she manipulated Verger and the FBI into letting her take this case and rescue Margot when it was not her place to do so...but much to his dismay, he cannot do anything with her career. She is too well-liked with the press at this moment to strike her down...

[maichancreating]

MaiChan.Creation FAQ

(It has finally come...)

ART TOOLS 🥝

🍀What program/tools do you use?

Photoshop CS6 with Wacom Intuos Pro Medium

🍀What brushes do you use and where did you get them?

I primarily use these two brushes when painting + the soft round brush (excuse the language lol)

I think I got them from this guy named, Houstonsharp.  If I’m wrong it’s one of these people (whom I’ve also possibly downloaded over the years): Jonas De Ro, DanLuVisiArt, TheEchoDragon, AaronGriffithArt, Sakimichan, WLOP

For the character, I use a combination of the soft round brush and “THE SHIT” brush. The “AWESOME” brush is usually for hair and sometimes part of the background.  Any other type of texture you see is from whatever brush I pick out of those downloaded ones I mentioned above 😅.

🍀Canvas size?

11 x 12 in. canvas (usually) with 300 dpi :)

ART TIPS 🍯

🌾How did you get so GOOD!!??? PLZ TELL ME UR SECRETS!!!

Take a deep breath and hope for the best. 

🌾Any advice for beginner digital artist/realistic portraits!?

This is all based on personal experience so whether this will work for you or not will depend on your learning style (I suppose??) lol.  

I’m a visual learner so I just watched a bunch of speedpaints on how other people approached the medium. I had to read a few tutorials to learn what the tools were in Photoshop (i.e. keystroke commands, lasso tool, liquify, etc,), but the major bulk of my learning was from watching the pros do it and trying to emmulate/integrate their methods into my own paintings.

Some good channels include sakimichan, sinix design,  brushboost, etc. :)

I also have a pinterest board filled with my favorite speedpaints/tutorial vids to check out if you want.

After I became accustomed to the tools, I just did a lot of photo studies and photo-referencing because the only way to learn how to do realism is to practice from the source 😉

🌾How do you draw [something actually specific]?

You can click here to see if I’ve covered that topic.

If not, as long as it’s specific and not just the general question, “how do you draw???,” I’ll try my best to answer you (a secret: the more specific, the better 🙃).

🌾How do you handle Art Block?

Other than getting frustrated and crying internally from my lack of creativity, I usually do photo studies to force myself back in lol. If I can’t be creative, I study.... 

PERSONAL 🍑

🌷How long have you been drawing?

A lot of seconds since I started.

OTHER 🥐

🌟Do you do commissions?

Yup! Check my prices and conditions here!

🌟Can I repost [a certain artwork] on [whatever website]? I’ll give you proper credit!!

Yeah, as long as there’s credit and you don’t remove my signature (essentially not altering the painting) -- it’s cool.  Thanks for asking :)

🌟Can I use your artwork as my profile pic?

Yup, as long as there’s credit, its totally fine :)

comment below or message me any more questions you'd like me to add onto the list :)

[artificialqueens]

cute boi {biadore} - imafuckinglibra

Meow meow bitches did someone ask for a biadore fic ft trans Danny? No they did not but you know what I’m a little trans boy with a crush on another little trans boy so yeah. Deal with it. Inspired by true events that’s all I’m gonna say on that enjoy tw dysphoria duh bc I’m a dysphoric piece of shit k bye

“Hm…uh-uh.” Danny protested when a loud ringing and something vibrating on his sternum woke him up.

He slapped his chest till he found his phone to turn off his alarm, rolling over with it in his fist to try and get 5 more minutes of sleep before his second alarm went off.

Once it did he noticed a notification on his screen of someone who tagged him in something and immediately sprung up.

[@ i_adore_u : @ nottodaysatan tagged you in a post ]

He rubbed his overly tired eyes a few times to get them to focus on the pencil drawing of the faceless selfie he posted the night before of himself in bed.

The beautiful thick graphite outlines framing every curve of muscle on his slender back and ass poking out under the covers of his blankets contrasting the delicate fine shading.

@ i_adore_u: You fucker! You drew me!

He quickly typed out a message in his dms towards the artist who drew him. He didn’t know much about this nottodaysatan guy except that his artwork was almost as intimidating as trying to talk to him was.

He’d been following him for some time and pretty much stalked his page non stop when he needed some inspiration for his own work.

His lines were always pristine, his way of curving every muscle of whoever he drew next so unlike any other and the way he could add so much intricate detailing to fabrics was just honestly mind boggling.

And as an added bonus he seemed like an albeit scary, genuinely nice guy. They had talked a few times, complimented each other’s work, talked about artists they admired or exchanged drawing tips but that was pretty much all he knew about the stranger.

@ nottodaysatan: Good morning to you too.

@ nottodaysatan: And yes I did, I thought it was cute so I had to

Typing…

Danny smiled at the flashing dots and reluctantly pushed himself up to roll out of bed. Scruffing his long hair up between his pale fingers as he walked towards the bathroom grabbing the black briefs with his stp neatly tucked into it laying next to his bed in the process.

“Morning.” His roommate, Tyler, sang from the kitchen of the small apartment when he passed him.

“Hm.” He nodded stepping into his underwear after he closed the door behind him.

“I made coffee!” Tyler yelled.

“Coffee…” He yawned while he peed. Looking down with a scowl at the silicone prosthetic poking out from his Rodeoh’s as he did. “I hate you.”

After insulting his crotch he stood in front of the mirror with his hands on either side of the sink examining his appearance.

His unruly dark, chin length brunette hair framing his soft cheeks and exhausted puffy eyes.

“You decent?”

“You care?” He yelled over his shoulder scoffing at the fact that his roommate would even ask at this point after seeing him naked so many times before.

“I brought the java.” Tyler placed the chipped black cup down next to him but he intercepted it and immediately took a hard swig of the hot coffee. “You have 2 minutes before we need to leave by the way.”

“Why? It’s so early.” He whined at him.

“Because you overslept you beautiful little bitch and it’s like 11 the fuck you mean?.”

“Shut up.”

He turned back to the mirror standing up straighter this time and turning side to side to examine his chest.

“Think it’s a tape day.” He groaned digging through the medicine cabinet for the bright orange packet labeled KT Tape.

“Only 2 more weeks, babe.” Tyler tickled his sides trying to get a smile from him. “Can I put your hair in pigtails while you do the thing?”

“Yes please.” He finally smiled at his friend and dumped the last 2 strips of snipped black tape out onto the counter.

While Tyler was behind him securing his hair in small braided pigtails either side of his head with chunky black hair ties he went to work snipping one of the strips in half.

Placing it an inch or 2 from his nipple he pulled it back against his ribs and secured the tape and his left breast against his side.

Tyler was right, in 2 more weeks he’d finally be getting top surgery and he’d never again have to worry about tape, binders or wearing 70 layers of shirts to hide his chest.

“You going to draw a new one?”

“Already did.” Danny answered while he secured the other strip in the same spot on his right side. “That’s why I overslept, I worked all night on it. I’ll post it later though.”

“Okie dokie. Happy 3 years.” Tyler took a break from his braiding to hug him while Danny let the significance of those words sink in.

This week marked his 156th shot of testosterone that he’s had to inject into his upper thigh. It just so happens the anniversary of it falls around the same time as pride month so each year he’d draw his body and the progress it’s made instead of taking a photo like most of the other trans posts he saw.

“By the way cute guy totally drew me.” He quickly changed the subject as he tucked his plain black shirt into his jeans before they left the apartment.

“You’re late.” Their friend Jason scolded when they opened the door and spotted him tapping his foot waiting for them while their other friends smoked on the stairs outside.

“Only by…” Tyler checked his phone’s time. “2 minutes.”

“2 minutes is still 2 minutes too late.” Jason snapped at him making them both panic.

“It’s Danny’s fault! He overslept, yell at him!”

“Hey! Way to throw me under the damn ocean.”

Tyler pulled up his shoulders but when they saw Jason still glaring at them they quickly ran down the stairs to avoid another scolding.

“I could never yell at this angel baby.” Jason cooed throwing his arm around Danny’s shoulders when he reached them on the curb.

If Danny had been paying attention he’d probably have made some smug comment to rub the special treatment he got from their unbearably anal friend in but reading the message he had received while getting ready was just far more important.

@ nottodaysatan: I wanted to ask you something. A whole bunch of other artists are doing this pride thing and I don’t really know what to draw but a friend suggested I do a piece of me kissing someone? Would you be interested if I drew you?

“Cute guy distracting you?” Tyler teased.

“Who’s cute guy?” Aaron on the other side of them asked making Danny blush.

“I don’t know if he’s cute or not, I’ve never seen his face but his drawings are super cute. He’s just this like really, really good artist that I’ve been following for like ever.” He explained trying not to give his infatuation away.

“Stalking him you mean.” Tyler scoffed making ooh’s arise from the rest of the group.

“Shut up!”

“You shut up!”

“No, you!” The roommates began bickering back and forth when Jason’s palm across the back of Tyler’s head broke them up.

“Bitch!” The shorter boy yelped. “Slap him too!”

“Never.” Jason kissed Danny’s forehead which made him giggle and stick his tongue out at Tyler.

He frowned at them and mumbled something about being unloved but was promptly shut up when Danny’s arm swept his legs out from under him and the other was placed behind his back.

He spun him around in a circle once or twice till Tyler broke face and laughed it off before they continued walking to the big college building where their class for the new semester was.

He did however refuse to put Tyler down once while they made their way across campus earning them a few glances from passing students.

It was still the 2nd week of their 2nd year and because their new classes were in a strange building Aaron and Danny, who were both music majors, asked Jason to tag along in case they couldn’t find their way back.

Since Jason was studying design he’d been in the building in question during their first year and knew his way around it much better.

Tyler didn’t actually study anything there but he worked part time in the cafeteria so he’d usually walk with them just to keep an eye on Danny. Not that he didn’t trust him or anything but he knew how easily distracted the pizza loving mermaid was and after the 5th time that he got lost on campus he vowed never to let him walk alone again.

When they all finally separated Danny and Tyler dragged out their goodbye like a mom saying goodbye to her kid on the first day of school.

Danny fake cried trying to be as overly dramatic as humanly possible even throwing his arms around his short friend’s shoulders as Tyler screamed some barely audible babbles about his baby growing up.

“Don’t die! I love you!” He shouted behind him when they finally did part as Danny watched him walking away waving at him.

“I want extra cheese on my fries for lunch!”

“I got to go too.” Jason tapped Danny’s shoulder while he was placing his order.

“Okay. See you for lunch? Pretty please?”

“Sure, I don’t think I have anything around then.” Jason smiled at him before he turned to leave.

“Bye, babe.” Danny pulled him back for a hug but let go just in time for Aaron to finish saying good morning to his first year boyfriend, Justin.

Despite their dawdling in the hallways by the time they took their usual seats way at the back by the door the lecturer still hadn’t arrived so Danny started scrolling through his favorite artist’s feed again to ease his boredom.

@ nottodaysatan: You know I’ll need a photo of you if I’m going to be drawing you?

@ i_adore_u: Right sorry.

He had completely forgotten to even reply to his crush but seems it wasn’t necessary, he must’ve read his mind or something and knew it was a yes.

Danny quickly scrolled through his phone looking for the selfie he took before they left hoping it looked decent enough to impress his crush. Even though he thought he looked down right adorable with his braids, the small brimmed hat tilted back on his head and the cute bag thrown over his shoulder resting against his hip.

@ nottodaysatan: Thanks. Not bad 😜😉😬

He bit his thumb to hide the grin forming at the corners of his mouth from the less than subtle compliment before he decided to take a risk.

@ i_adore_u: Why don’t we make it fair and let me draw you too?

Typing …

He instantly regretted his decision when he saw the floating dots and tried doing damage control as quickly as possible.

@ i_adore_u: I don’t want to you to go through the trouble and not get something in return that’s all

The flashing icon at the bottom left of the screen disappeared and Danny’s heart dropped right out of his ass.

‘I fucked up. I fucked up. I fucked up.’ He started internally chanting, cursing his own stupidity when his phone buzzed again.

@ nottodaysatan sent you a message

@ nottodaysatan: Seems fair. Sorry I’m in class so can’t take a better one.

Danny had to resist doing a little happy dance when he saw the message but especially when he opened it and saw the selfie he had sent.

“Cute guy.” He whispered when his mouth dropped open at the sight of the most beautiful tan man he’s ever seen.

He was in a white tank top with messy black hair and looked down at the camera with big dark brown eyes and a hint of a smile at the corners of a his gorgeously full pink lips framed by dimples and some light scruff.

@ nottodaysatan: Make me look good or I’ll kill you 😉😠😜

@ i_adore_u: Meanie ☹️☹️

Danny typed out followed by another selfie of him pursing his lips, pulling the best emoji like face he could that he quickly took just as the lecturer was walking in.

Before he could check the response Shane, his musical theory lecturer, started the presentation. Instead of paying attention however Danny took out his sketchbook and a red pencil and began drawing them.

At first he started innocently enough with a reference of a picture he and Tyler had taken over the weekend where they were on their couch together. Tyler’s arms around his neck and his lips against his forehead, perfect for an innocent enough doodle.

The longer he was looking at the picture of cute guy though the more his mind started to wander and eventually he began drawing a second one just for himself.

This time using his fantasies as reference while imagining what those puffy lips would feel like against his own or the way his fingers would caress the back of his neck.

-

“I open my eyes and see his head burried between my legs…I grab his hair and pull his face even closer into my cro…”

“Hey!” Someone barked followed by a very loud, very hard open palmed slap on the metal table they were sitting at which made Danny nearly jump out of his seat.

“I was singing out loud again, wasn’t I?” Danny apologetically smiled at the circle of friends sitting around the table when he realized where he was.

He had missed the entire lecture too lost in his drawing and by the time the hour was over he had finished the drawing of them kissing and was working on cleaning it up on his iPad while they sat outside for lunch. How he got there in his zombie like haze was still a mystery though.

“Yes.” They all dryly answered in unison.

Danny had a very, very bad habit of singing out loud whenever he got too lost in his work and seems like many a countless times before he ended up not only embarrassing himself again but his friends too.

“And you were singing The Wet Dream.” Aaron next to him grinned mischievously.

“Why did I ever listen to that stupid album you gave me?” Danny groaned dropping into his palms to hide his insanely flushed face.

He made a vow right then and there to never, EVER ask Aaron for music suggestions again. The last recommendation he gave was a Lords of Acid CD that only seemed to get him into even more trouble than usual. Case in point.

“Are you going to talk to us or just draw that all day?” Brian asked stealing one of his fries.

“I just have to finish this outline then I’ll be all yours.” He slapped Brian’s hand away and popped a fistful of cheesy fries that Tyler crisped up a little extra for him into his mouth. “How it look tho far?”

He sat back a bit so his friends could lean over and look at the drawing of cute guy’s lips brushing over his with his hand around his throat. Their lips only connected by the small string of saliva Danny added but their bodies pressed tightly together sitting in each other’s laps with their legs interwoven.

“Hey, Roy.” Jason tilted his head up to greet someone behind Danny, who at first he disregarded until the person spoke.

“It’s pretty.” An unfamiliar gravely voice commented.

“Thanks.” Danny turned to thank whoever, presumably the guy his friend greeted, it was for the compliment but when he looked behind him there was nobody there.

Instead the stranger plopped down onto the empty seat next to Danny with his crossed elbows hitting the table. His big, perfect teethed smile framed by dimples which made Danny’s head spin. “Hi.”

“Cute guy.” He whispered in disbelief feeling his face turn pale as if he’s see a ghost.

“Name’s Roy actually but that works too.” He laughed nodding his head. “I thought I’ve seen you around before. If I knew we went to the same college I’d have said hello sooner.”

“Um…” Danny’s mouth flapped open and shut for a few seconds like a fish out of water before he looked to Jason in fear.

“Danny, that’s Roy he’s a 4th year. Roy that’s Danny, he’s shy.” Jason clarified pointing to each boy as he introduced them.

“So listen, I sketched something in…”

“I gotta’ go.” Danny interrupted him and with his iPad in hand he ran off towards the other side of campus for his commercial music class.

Roy wanted to run after him but his legs locked up when he realized how desperate and uncool it would look.

“Sorry for scaring of your friend.” He looked to the students around the table, tapping the metal with his index finger to drown out the awkward silence when nobody responded.

“I know how you can make it up.”

-

When Danny got home after his last class, too embarrassed of his behavior at lunch but even more from the fact that cute guy, Roy, saw what he drew of them Danny decided a nap was probably the best option.

Well embarrassment and the fact that he didn’t sleep more than about 3 or 4 hours the night before and his body wasn’t taking the fatigue well.

He woke up very grumpy 2 hours later when he heard his friends in the living room chattering and making themselves lunch and walked out ready to give them an earful for so rudely interrupting his peaceful afternoon nap.

“You mother fucking cocksuckers!” He yelled swinging his door open but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a new face amongst the group of boys.

“Hey. Cute briefs.” Roy raised a hand to wave but before he actually could Danny ducked back into the room slamming the door shut abruptly behind him.

‘Fuck me running.’ He closed his eyes praying this was a bad dream. No way did the cute guy he’s been crushing on for over a year even before seeing his picture just see him without a shirt on.

He was going to laugh at his taped down chest any second now he knew it. The sooner Roy left the better that’s the only solution. He’d leave and they’d never speak again.

Or he’d leave and tell everyone what a gross freak he was.

‘Shit!’ He threw the book closest to his reach against the bed.

“Something I said?” Roy asked when Danny came back out after calming himself, this time with his shirt on and his jean half hazardously pulled up.

‘God he’s cute.’ Roy shifted in his seat at the sight of him, making sure it wasn’t too noticeable by leaning for his cup of coffee in the process.

“No.” Danny pouted walking into the kitchen before returning with a beer and making sure to stand on the other side of the room away from him.

Roy took a sip from his cup to collect his thoughts so he could perfectly and effortlessly recite the excuse he had prepared as to why he was in his apartment.

“Just came over to talk about those drawings. Thought maybe we could do a collab? You can work on the shading and color since your digital shading is phenomenal and I don’t have a tablet or anything and then I can do the fabrics and bodies.”

“I don’t want to work with you.” Danny blurted out in the coldest tone he could muster given his embarrassed state.

“You don’t?”

“I just don’t like your like energy man.”

If he had looked up from the tab of his beer can that he was fiddling with he’d have seen the hurt expression on Roy’s face.

The sting of rejection hitting a nerve straight down to the center of Roy’s being, gnawing at his ego causing his go to cold defensiveness to rear it’s ugly head.

“Right, I’m sorry what’s your name again?”

This caught Danny’s attention. He looked up from his fidgeting and stomped back into his room. “Get out of my fucking apartment.” He snarled slamming the door shut.

Danny heard some commotion outside his room but decided it wasn’t his problem, bad enough he just insulted the guy he had a crush on and told him to leave he didn’t want to face the consequences or admit he overreacted too.

“What the hell is your problem?” The door flew open and Roy barged in.

He couldn’t leave it there, he should’ve but he couldn’t. If someone was going to reject him like that they better give him a damn good reason. Actually if Danny was going to reject him like that that was the case. Anyone else he’d probably just had read them and left it there.

“I told you to leave.”

“Answer me then and I will.” The shorter man stood his ground folding his arms with a brow raised waiting for him to answer after he closed the door for privacy.

“Maybe I just don’t like y…”

“And don’t give me that bullshit answer again.”

Danny stood still for a second trying to center his thoughts before he took a deep breath and blurted out his feelings. “Fine! I have a crush on you!”

“So you’re 9?” Roy snorted. “You like me so you tell me you don’t like me? Yeah, real fucking logical.”

“No I just…” Danny looked down feeling ashamed of not only his actions but his body. “You saw, stuff. Stuff that I didn’t want you to see.”

‘Stuff?’ Roy quickly deduced what he meant and without thinking blurted it out.

“Your chest?” Roy’s harsh voice softened as he slowly approached him as if he was a wounded animal who might run any second. He placed his hands either side of Danny’s hips, looking into his eyes for permission before he touched him.

Danny’s heart began racing uncontrollably fast, the butterflies in his stomach now in a complete chaotic frenzy as Roy’s brown eyes flicked between his.

Slowly, delicately almost his hands slid up his sides underneath his shirt, lifting the fabric to reveal first his abdomen with the fuzz down the center before he exposed his taped down chest.

“You mean this?” He knew what he was doing was completely irrational and way too unlike himself but something inside him couldn’t stay away from this boy.

What he knew his words could never sufficiently express he gave over to his actions. He needed to reassure him of how beautiful his body was and that he never had to be ashamed of it.

“Yeah.” Danny nodded looking away from him. “Why do you even care if I like you or not?”

Roy tilted his head up to lean in closer, close enough that Danny could feel his nervous, rapid breathing against his lips.

“Because I like you…” Roy whispered into his parted lips before they made contact with his.

Instinctively as their lips passionately made up for every second of yearning Danny’s body melted into Roy’s.

But when his hands came up to hold onto the shaved back of Roy’s head he unexpectedly jumped away and released the fabric of his shirt.

“Shit I…sorry.”

Danny wanted to question why he pulled away so out of the blue or more importantly why he kissed him at all but before he could Roy, now a bright red, was already on his way out the door.

“Hey? Wha…what was?” He tried following the boy speeding out the apartment’s front door but for such a short guy he was actually surprisingly fast.

“I have to go.” Roy shouted never looking behind him as he ran down the steps. “Sorry!”

Danny was simply left staring at the now empty street where he swore he still saw Roy’s dust cloud like some cartoon character after a hasty escape.

“What did you say to him?” Jason came to stand behind him.

“Nothing. He just kissed me and, and ran.”

“He kissed you?” His friends all shouted and he turned around unsure who to look at or answer.

“Yeah?”

“He kissed you? Like, on the lips?” Tyler repeated the question.

“Which lips?” Aaron smiled making Justin smack his chest.

“Yeah which lips though?” He asked too.

“Jason.” Danny disregarded them and turned to his skinny friend placing his hands on his shoulders to look him in the eyes. “Tell me everything you know about him.”

-

“Howdy howdy.”

“I fucked up.” Roy sighed into the mic of the white headphones hanging either side of him.

“What now?” His blonde friend on the screen raised both brows hiding his mouth behind his cup of tea.

Roy dropped his head into his palm, running his fingers through his unruly black hair getting ready to explain everything, not just to Shane but to himself as well.

“Remember that artist I follow? The one with the pencil sketches that he digitally shades?”

“Sure, let’s say I do.”

“I was right, he does go here.”

“Oh. Do I know him? What’s his name?”

“Danny something. He’s really tall, real slim, long dark brown hair…gorgeous.” He tried his best to regain some form of composure but picturing him as he explained just turned him back into jelly.

“Danny Noriega. He’s in my musical theory class, really good kid.”

“You do know him…never mind then I’ll talk to you when I get home.” He tried hanging up their FaceTime call but Shane stopped him.

He took a sip from his starbucks cup and looked around at the other scattered about students waiting for their drinks in the courtyard. He knew it was preposterous but he still felt embarrassed at the thought that any of them might actually be listening and see he had a heart. A heart he never showed and had no intention on showing any more of.

“This morning I met him and he ran away, so logically I went to his um, apartment and yeah we kissed.”

He watched the grin on his roommate’s face grow insanely bright making him roll his eyes.

He was usually so in control and composed, how did he let things get so out of hand and let his emotions take over like that? Roy never even liked anyone or had hookups, he didn’t have time for feelings and romance and all that other mushy crap.

He focused on his studies and his art and that was that. He was a 4.0 student who’s never even gotten a B and made damn sure it stayed that way by remaining locked only on what was important, his studies.

Yet here he was frantically calling his roommate after running out the apartment of a boy he kissed the same way he did after his first kiss ever in middle school.

He was embarrassed? Him?

The same guy who’s life motto was ‘Never let a bitch see you sweat.’? How did that happen?

Sure this way of thinking was how he got his reputation of being the no bullshit person he was, and yes some took it as confidence and others as cocky but either way people respected him and that was all that mattered.

But Danny did something to him. He had managed to turn him into a total nervous mess with one simple kiss.

“What’s up?” He heard the last person he wanted to even think about speak on the other end behind Shane. The voice of ‘it’ only making him sink even lower into his seat.

“Roy’s sharing his feelings.” Shane smiled at his boyfriend leaning up for a kiss before both men turned back to him.

“Feelings are for ugly people.” Willam snarled but Shane hit his shoulder and told him to zip it.

“Agreed.” Roy nodded tilting his head into his hand. “So how about we forget I have them and I’ll see you at home?”

He cut Shane off mid sentence by hanging up and instead took out his textbooks and sketch pad to start working on the upcoming project he had due. Anything to distract himself from the beautiful creature that was Danny Noriega.

The less he thought about him the better.

His usual method of distraction didn’t work so great this time though, all he could do was think about those lips and the way the petite chest rose and fell when he lifted Danny’s shirt or the way the faint muscles on his abdomen flinched when he touched him.

His sketch of a boatneck gown with elegant filigree like detailing soon turned into a drawing of Danny with his hands tied above his head with the same fabric as his gown. His small chest with the black strips covered in hickeys and bites.

‘Fine! I have a crush on you!’ Danny’s words echoed in his mind as he etched the blushing around his bites in with his red pencil.

‘You saw, stuff. That I didn’t want you to see.’

Stuff.

His mind wandered further to the feel of his soft skin under his fingertips as he outlined the muscle of his pec. Honestly what stuff did Danny even worry about? His chest was so petite that Roy doubted even when it wasn’t taped down it would look any different.

‘I wish you could…’ His train of thought got interrupted by his phone lighting up making his heart skip a beat.

He braced himself first before looking down at the device, some part hoping that maybe Danny would’ve dm’d him or something.

‘Of course not.’

He felt like an idiot for ever even thinking that, if you run out on somebody after exposing something he was clearly very self conscious about why would he ever want to talk to you again?

He didn’t mean any malice by it he just truly didn’t care and he wanted to try and show Danny that. Clearly a failed lame attempt to make him feel better about himself.

He couldn’t think about this anymore though it was giving him too much of a headache so instead he turned his phone on airplane mode and turned on his music to zone out any further spiraling thoughts.

With no further distractions Roy eventually got so lost in his sketching that he worked through about 4 more cups of coffee before he called it a night and packed up his stuff.

But on his way home he couldn’t get Danny off his mind again and decided to take a chance and message him. What’s the worst that could happen right?

-

Danny couldn’t sleep that night, his mind was too plagued with everything that had happened that day and thoughts of his rushed kiss with Roy.

“Roy…”

Jason had told him what little he knew of him like how he was a New York native ish, unlike the rest of their friend group, and how he’d been a legend amongst the other design students for his incredible garments and impressive work ethic.

For example at the end of every semester the college would put on an exhibit of the work they did and Roy’s work has never been skipped over once in the four years that he’s been there. Apparently the other lecturers even used him as an example for what the others should stride to be.

‘No. Sleep, I need sleep.’ Danny scolded himself when he found himself halfway through Roy’s feed again. He switched off his lights, turned on some music and put his phone to one side to try his absolute best to calm his mind and actually sleep.

When he realized it was a futile attempt and that he’d probably never fall asleep at this rate he, out of habit, reached for his go to cure for insomnia, which pretty much meant reaching down his boxers.

As he closed his eyes thinking back on Roy’s lips he wrapped his index finger and middle finger around his growth, which was rapidly growing more erect the intenser his fantasies became.

“Fuck…Roy…” He moaned through broken breathing when he took his now fully erect growth between his fingers and began jerking himself off faster, rubbing his head with his thumb with every pass.

“Fuck me.” His moans grew louder when he brought his other hand up towards his nipples, squeezing the small pink nub tightly as he bucked his hips into his fingers.

He slid his feet up curling his knees up shut together as the thought of Roy’s puffy lips engulfing his growth overtook his mind.

He wanted to feel him, every single part of him. His hands on his skin, his dick in his mouth, those gorgeously full lips on his - everything.

Before he could enjoy his rapidly building up release he felt his phone vibrating next to his head about 3 or 4 times and panicked thinking it meant a call, probably from his mom since she was then only person to call him ever.

@ nottodaysatan: Sorry I ran out I shouldn’t have panicked and just left like that but I like you too

@ nottodaysatan sent you a message

@ nottodaysatan: I finished that drawing of us to make it up to you

@ nottodaysatan sent you a message

@ nottodaysatan: Okay maybe I drew 2 things I couldn’t get you out of my mind

@ nottodaysatan: Here’s my number call me when you get these so I know you still want to collab 800 - 454 - 8000

Danny threw his hand over his face to hide his squealing from the joy that he actually got Roy’s number but more of the fact that Roy actually admitted to being shy.

He immediately texted Roy and after that sleep definitely wasn’t an option anymore. They spent the entire night talking about everything from their majors or art to even bad hook ups and pizza.

It was like the longer they talked the more Roy’s softer side came out instead of the harsh always professional side Jason warned him about. In fact it was more like Jason had been talking about someone completely different.

Roy was sweet and charming, a great sense of humor and quick wit and he never seemed to question Danny’s transition. He never even brought it up.

Roy - 04:22

I have to go to bed now chola

Danny - 04:22

Whyyyyyyyy????

Roy - 04:23

Bc I have class at 8

Danny - 04:23

Fiiiiiiiine. Meanie.

Danny - 04:23

Goodnight

Typing …

The 3 bubbles disappeared again and Danny waited a good 20 minutes for them to return but they never did, eventually he decided Roy probably just fell asleep and gave up.

He went to work setting the alarms he forgot so he’d have more than 5 minutes in the morning before he set the drawing Roy did of his chest as his lock screen.

He heard a knock at the door and after checking the time realized it was probably Tyler coming home from his other job as a bartender. He was just as scatter brained as him and often forgot his keys at home.

“Stop losing your…Hi.” His mouth fell open and he bit his lip to hide his huge baffled grin when he saw Roy standing outside instead of his roommate.

“God I have no idea how I’m going to function on 3 hours of sleep. I mean I’m used to the long hours trust me, but this is ridiculous.” Roy casually walked in past him yawning as he spoke.

Before Danny could even register what was happening Roy had disappeared into his bedroom.

‘What the…’ He chuckled to himself till reality hit him and he made a run for it after him.

“Hey, you said you’re going to bed?” He asked standing in the doorway where he saw Roy already making himself comfortable in his messy bed beneath the covers.

Only sitting up for a second to yank his shirt off over his head revealing his stubbly chest before he fell back down into the sheets.

Danny ogled him for a minute taking in how beautiful his body was, he wasn’t well built by any means but he sure was very well defined with every curve of muscle around his pecs and biceps perfect.

“Never said who’s bed.” Roy yawned again securing a pillow beneath his head.

“Well you can’t sleep here, sorry.” Danny stated matter of factly walking towards him with his arms crossed.

“Too late already asleep.” Roy closed his eyes and started fake snoring which made Danny giggle. God how could this absolute idiot ever be the scary bully Jason warned him about?

“You can’t! Get up!” Danny grabbed the pillow from under his head and hit him with it a few times.

Roy however quickly put an end to it by grabbing his waist and pulling him down onto the bed with him. “Shh, tired. You can continue hitting me in the morning.”

Danny couldn’t put on his very unsuccessful tough guy act any longer and instead snuggled up into the extended arm under his head to nuzzle his face into Roy’s collar. “Fine.”

God he smelled good. Danny closed his eyes to take in every second of Roy overwhelming his senses and savor the moment he had longed for so long.

“I’ll make it up to you then.” He yawned a final time before pulling Danny’s hips into his with his hand on his ass. “Now goodnight, chola.”

He wanted to enjoy the moment of closeness a little longer but when he felt his chest hitting Roy’s and his bulge pressing against him his dysphoria kicked in and he panicked.

“Wait, no. I can’t.” He pushed himself away from Roy and off the bed but Roy grabbed his wrist so he’d be fall back in a seated position on the edge of the bed.

“Why not? It’s just sleeping?” Roy tried putting his hand on his waist but Danny sprung up again.

“No.” He covered his chest with his arms and looked over at his briefs laying to the side with his packer in it.

In his peripherals he caught Roy’s eyes following his which only made his anxiety burn heavier.

He was utterly vulnerable without his packer on and without his chest taped down or binded. He didn’t want Roy to see him like this and run. Sure he saw his chest when it was flattened but this was different, his chest was different.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to put my shirt back on?”

“No…” He could feel his uncertainty bubbling up along with his insecurities the longer he stood there shielding himself from the boy in front of him.

“Come closer, please?” Roy asked sitting up slightly, resting on his elbow. “So I can talk to you.”

Danny obliged stepping closer to the bed so Roy could grab his hand and guide him as he climbed with his knees onto the mattress.

“Okay.” Roy pulled him down by the waist when he got close enough so Danny would be straddling him before he sat up in a similar position to what Danny drew. “Can I touch you?”

“Why?” Danny looked into his eyes unsure of his intentions. He trusted Roy enough not to run but not enough that he knew for sure he wasn’t going to disapprove of what he saw once he looked behind the proverbial curtains.

“I want to show you something.” Roy smiled.

Fuck that smile. He couldn’t say no to that beautiful smile. “Okay.”

Roy placed his hands under Danny’s shirt on his ribs making his heart race uncontrollably again as he leaned in for a kiss.

Their lips connected slowly at first till Danny eased into his touch and their kissing intensified. The way Roy’s lips passionately locked with his distracted his frantic mind so much he didn’t even flinch when the hands on his ribs moved down to hook his thumbs into the fabric of his shirt and pull it off over his head.

“That’s not fair you’re too good at that.” Danny whined when Roy pulled away.

“I told you earlier I don’t care about this?” Roy tilted his head down to kiss down Danny’s jaw as he held his petite chest in his hands.

Roy wasn’t lying either. He didn’t care and now that he’s seen Danny’s chest without anything holding it down he cared even less. It was small, probably even smaller than his was. Small enough that he couldn’t fathom why Danny would ever be ashamed of it or even feel the need to hide it.

As Roy’s mouth continued placing kisses in a trail down his jaw and throat, nipping at his pulse point the warmth of his palms pressed against his nipples reignited the release Danny had been denied earlier.

“Oh fuck…don’t do that.” Danny moaned lifting his head to allow Roy better access to his jugular and clavicle as he kissed further down.

“What? This?” Roy smirked pushing him down so he’d fall onto his back. Danny watched him with hungry eyes as he bent down over him taking one of his nipples in his mouth.

“Yeah that…shit.” Danny moaned deeper this time, his hips lifting against Roy on their own searching for any contact to ease the familiar tingling growing in his lap.

“Why not?” Roy let go of the pink bud with a pop and moved on to the next one.

His exhaustion was being too overshadowed by the intense desire to hear those moans again, to feel more of the body pinned beneath him to even give himself time to think what he was doing through.

“Because, you already ruined it once tonight.” Danny whined.

“I did?” Roy cocked a brow letting go of his nipple to look at him containing his smug grinning to himself.

Oops.

“Maybe.” Danny blushed looking away. “I…I was thinking about you earlier and then you dm’d me and I couldn’t, um finish and then we stared talking and stuff.”

“I’ll make it up to you.” Roy purred in his ear before he fell back into the same position as earlier yawning again. “In the morning.”

“But…fine.” Danny pouted crawling over the bed to lie down next to him. “But I need the blankie between us.”

“Why?” Roy looked up puzzled at him trying to figure out what was happening as Danny tried tugging at the blanket to pull it between them.

“It’s weird.”

“Tell me.”

“I can’t…I have this thing where I can’t have my hands touching my chest.” He admitted looking away. “It just freaks me out if I feel any part of me touching my chest and then I can’t function or sleep or anything.”

Seeing the vulnerability again made Roy’s heart grow heavy, he didn’t know how he’d do it but he knew that he needed to help in any small way possible.

“That’s okay.” Roy smiled swiping the blankets away and pulling him in so close against himself there was no room between them. “Then you won’t have to.”

“I hate you.” Danny pouted draping his arm around Roy’s neck so his hand could play with his hair.

“Really?” Roy asked with a hint of amusement in his tired voice. Giving him a quick kiss before he took the pouty lip poking out between his teeth feeling Danny moan into his mouth. “Because I adore you.”

[tipsycad147]

Collecting out-of-print Tarot decks

by Michelle Gruben

Every Tarot collector wants that one deck. The 1980s deck that you first learned to read with (and haven’t seen since). The indie Kickstarter deck you should have bought when you had the chance. The deck that everyone raves about that’s long overdue for a reprint.

As a lifelong collector (and occasional dealer) of Tarot, I know the agony of searching for those elusive decks. I’ve written this guide to help you round up the stragglers on your list. With a little sleuthing, patience, and (moderately) deep pockets, anyone can build the Tarot collection of their dreams. This article is geared toward those who buy Tarot decks for reading and study, rather than purely for collectible value. But if you happen to make money buying and selling Tarot, more power to you!

First, it’s helpful to understand why Tarot decks go out of print in the first place. Every time a Tarot deck is created, the publisher—whether it’s the artist or a publishing company—has to make a very risky bet. They have to settle on an initial print run, or the number of copies that will be produced. The publisher uses a current budget and past sales figures to arrive at this number, but it’s not an exact science.

If the number is too low, the deck will sell out quickly, disappointing customers. If the number is too high, the publisher could be stuck with unsold copies of the deck for years, tying up cash that could have gone to other projects. Print runs vary from 500 or fewer copies from indie artists, up to tens of thousands of copies from major publishers.

Most Tarot decks never see a second print run after the initial printing sells out. However, if the deck becomes extremely popular, the publisher may opt to put a new edition. Some titles are translated into other languages, and appear in multiple sizes and formats. A classic deck may even get an anniversary edition to mark a major milestone. Not all reprints are created equal, though. Sometimes, the print quality improves and errors are corrected in the new edition. Other times, the deck suffers from flimsy paper stock, “off” colors, and skimpy packaging.

Intellectual property issues can delay or block a re-issue. The Thoth Tarot by Aleister Crowley went missing for several years. The hiatus was due to a legal dispute between the Ordo Templi Orientis, which claims the rights to the artwork, and U.S. Games Systems, Inc., which has a contract to publish the deck. Eventually, a new edition made it to the market—but not before dealers went crazy hawking the out-of-print decks on eBay.

I’ll be the first to admit it: Finding rare and out-of-print decks isn’t easy. There are thousands of different Tarot decks, most from small print runs, and no centralized resources for collectors. In addition, serious Tarot fans tend to hold on to their decks for a long time—like, until death.

Your Tarot wish list

If you’re serious about filling out a Tarot collection, the first step is to make a wish list. Patience is a virtue when hunting for Tarot, so the list will help you focused during those long stretches of no luck. Write down the name, publisher, and any other particulars—like edition or language—for your desired decks. You can also arrange the wish list by priority (“Decks I Would Sell My Firstborn For” down to “Decks I Might Buy If the Price Is Right”).

Once your collection reaches a certain size, you’ll also want to keep an inventory of decks you already own. I don’t wish for anyone to be hovering around a stinky flea market trying to remember if they already have Motherpeace.

Ready to start chipping away at that wish list? Here's four places to look for rare Tarot and oracle decks:

1. Check online marketplaces.

eBay, Amazon, and AbeBooks are the most popular venues for used Tarot decks. Searching online listings is the fastest—but probably also the most expensive—way to get your hands on a long-lost deck. The three sites listed above have the largest selection of vintage Tarot. Generally speaking, used book lots and estate sales put Tarot decks in the hands of dealers, who pass them on to collectors. Search terms like “vintage,” “original” or “OOP” will show you the current haul of collectible decks.

Browsing these three sites is a good way to find out what a particular deck is worth—or at least, what dealers want it to be worth. I’ve seen mass-market decks that originally retailed for about $20 offered for $300 or more. And that’s without the deck being particularly rare or sought-after. Some dealers buy up all the current Tarot titles they can, just hoping that the publisher will sell out and the value of the deck will shoot up.

Don’t be discouraged if you find your coveted deck listed at an insane price. Remember, the value of something is only what someone else will pay. It’s often the case that the seller has no idea what the item is worth. They do know they have only one available, and they’re simply trying to get the best price from some eager collector. The seller may come down if no one bites, or if similar listings pop up. They will certainly come down if the deck is reprinted. If you’re willing to wait, it’s entirely possible that you might find the same title somewhere else for much less.

Try setting up alerts so you can be notified when your wish list items show up in listings. Large marketplace like eBay and Amazon usually support this function. Of course, if the deck you want is truly rare and at the top of your list, you may wish to snap it up as soon as you get a chance.

Online Tarot collecting is not without its risks. Read the listing carefully, and be sure to ask any questions before checkout. Because Amazon requires an ISBN number for listings (but doesn’t keep a complete catalog of ISBNs for out-of-print titles), sellers sometimes list old Tarot items under the wrong ISBN. It’s very disappointing to get the wrong edition (or worse, a book when you were expecting a deck.)

Also, don’t assume that people selling used Tarot decks on major sites know anything about Tarot. Some may be specialists, but some are liquidators who deal in all types of books and other items. Right now on eBay, there are decks with missing cards, decks described incorrectly, and newer editions passed off as vintage. Beware of “as is” listings and sellers who don’t describe the item thoroughly with words and photos. A reputable seller should at least be able to verify that all the cards are there and provide you with the publishing info from the box or booklet.

2. Scrounge around (in person).

Your second option is poking around in cluttered rooms that smell like books. (Poor you!)

Not a lot of metaphysical shops carry used Tarot decks. Part of the reason may be superstition, or clients' worry about the energy of previous owners clinging to the deck. But the bigger reason is probably the hassle. Every used deck has to be checked for condition and completeness. Most of the decks published in the 1980s and beyond just don’t have that much value, other than sentiment. As a shop owner, I can attest that the profit margin on new decks is small enough, and the margin on run-of-the-mill used decks is miserable. But it’s worth checking if your local occult store sells or trades vintage decks.

The next stop for scrounging will be the used book stores in your area. Because of pilferage, decks are usually kept behind glass or the front counter, so you may have to ask for them. Tarot can also show up at such unlikely places as estate sales, rummage sales, auctions, and library sales. Workers at these things don’t always know where to place the decks, so I check the New Age section, the games section, and the rare book shelf. (Unfortunately, the general public seems to think Tarot decks are worth a lot more than they are. Don’t be shy about setting them straight with a cash offer.)

When you run across vintage Tarot decks at a reasonable price, buy them all! Honestly, do it. Whether the decks are on your list or not, they’re really neat to rifle through and they don’t take up much room. They could be a useful bargaining chip when you meet with other collectors. (See #4, below.)

Magickal folks, you can use visualization and intuition to make a hard-to-find Tarot deck come to you. Put your intention out there, then go where your hunches and whims lead you. If you have access to a favorite image from the deck, print it out and put it with your collection. Or you can simply visualize yourself reading the deck or holding it in your hands. Then follow your nose and keep your eyes peeled for your new deck.

3. Contact the artist or publisher.

Through the wonders of the information age, it’s now possible to get in touch with nearly any (living) artist or author. It’s a long shot, but it just might yield up a Tarot deck or at least a hot tip.

Try sending a message to the deck creator through their website or Facebook page. Tell ‘em how much you love the deck, and how disappointed you are that you missed the limited edition, or gave away your personal copy, or lost it after revel fire that one night, or whatever. Then ask them if they know any way that the deck can be obtained.

Sometimes, artists will have a limited number of copies that they keep for family and friends. They may be willing to sell you one. Perhaps there’s been a second printing that you didn’t know about. Could be a bookstore in Winnipeg has some old stock. Maybe they’ll tell you about a new deck they’re working on that’s so awesome, you’ll cross the old one off your list.

Reaching out to artists that inspire you is usually very gratifying, even if it doesn’t land you a deck. Artists need love! For out-of-print titles stuck in purgatory, your message will at least demonstrate some interest, and possibly nudge them toward another print run.

I’m shy, so I’ll admit that this is not my favorite strategy of the bunch. Several years ago, I was desperate to get my hands on the rare-ish Alchemical Tarot by Robert Place. I got a large tattoo from the deck on my leg, and the plan was to send him a pic and ask if he had a deck to sell me. But I chickened out! I (Fortunately, it was later reprinted.)

Nowadays, I chat with lots of deck creators, and I’ve found them to be a great resource for finding those rare decks and special extras. Many creators are collectors, also. They’re often the first to know when a re-issue or new release is forthcoming. Re-issues always drive down the price of out-of-print decks, so this is useful intel whether you buy or sell Tarot.

4. Connect with other collectors.

Other Tarot collectors make wonderful fishing buddies. Whether you meet them online or in person, connecting with Tarot community will yield a wealth of information. They can help you set up trades, find new leads, evaluate purchases, and identify your decks. The only danger here is that your wish list will grow and grow!

If you have decks in your collection that you no longer want, other collectors will be happy to take them off your hands. Bring a handful of old decks to Tarot classes and spiritual book swaps, and they may find a happy new home. A Tarot meetup I used to attend had a monthly “Show and Tell” that very often turned into “Show and Sell.”

For many years, the leading online Tarot swap community has been on the Aecletic Tarot forums (registration required for most features). They are generally fair and knowledgeable folks. You can post buy/sell requests or show off your collection! Remember, the only thing better than finding a much-longed-for deck is helping someone else to do the same.

Happy collecting!

https://www.groveandgrotto.com/blogs/articles/collecting-out-of-print-tarot-decks

[cultgambles]

YouTuber!MC

Woooo! Finally something that I hope ya’ll enjoy. School started a week ago, and it’s all going according to keikaku so far, so that’s pretty good.

Word Count: 1014

Masterlist | Requests? open

Requests are OPEN

[YTN] = youtube name

Yoosung

Gamer

“So, MC, what do you do for work? Or are you in College?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m in college and I work from home!”

He didn’t really ask about it again, until he was playing LOLOL with his friends.

“Duuuude, have you seen [YTN]? She’s a girl gamer! She’s basically asking me out…”

The other players in his group agreed, but he had no idea who the person was.

“Yoosung! Leave the game and just watch her letsplays. You won’t regret it.”

“Uggggghhhh, finnnne”

Tbh he wasn’t expecting very much, but he wanted to know what his friends were getting so hyped up about.

He clicked on the first video: BAD DAD: MC plays Dream Daddy | EP 1

“WHAT’S UP GUYS!? It’s ya gorl, MC! So you guys have been BEGGING for me to play, and I got my grubby little hands on it! As you’ve probably read from the title, I’m playing Gamegrump’s Dream Daddy!”

UHHH SHOCK???

MC

Calls you up right away

“You didn’t ask”

Sometimes you bring him on as a guest

Your fans think ya’ll are really cute

Zen

Skits

Boi decides to venture in his fandom for once

He sees fanart of him and a girl who looks oddly fa2miliar

Many of the comments consist of “OTP” and “<3 ommmg they’d be so cute together!”

He looks up your name, MC, and sees that you have a pretty big youtube fandom

WAIT A MINUTE

THAT’S HIS JAGIYA

“MC??? You’re a youtuber?”

“Yeah! Since 2006 actually. It’s been so fun as the years go by. I can’t belive there’s so many people that want to see my silly videos”

“How many?”

“How many what, Zen”

“Followers? Subscribers?”

“Hmmm, I’d say about 7 million?”

Instantly becomes jealous

I CANT HAVe ALL THESE DANGEROUS MEN WATCHING MY MC ON REPEAT

He LOVES them tho

Wants you to get into the acting business

That’s a no from you

“But we can be stars together!”

“Nah”

“We’ll see eacho ther every day?!”

“We already do, dummy”

Jaehee

ASMR/Slime Videos

She finds it really calming after a long day of work and elly

She brought work home, and just has some playing in the background

Suddenly, your voice fills her ears.

Clicking the youtube tab, sure enough, it’s you.

You’re making some glow in the dark slime and just talking about your day.

Soon enough, she’s seen almost all your videos

Inspires her to make slime

You find her in the kitchen with her laptop open, just A MESS

Glue everywhere

“Jaehee? What’s all this?”

“MC! I don’t know how you make these tutorials so simple looking!”

????

R u

R u watching one of my videos????

“Yes I am now come over here and help me!”

You kiss her forehead and instruct her.

“Wow that made so much more sense”

“Haha I literally just said the exact same thing”

Jumin

Product Reviews

He doesn’t think it’s a real job

Worries that his father or coworkers will see them and immediately calls for their removal

Ohhh boy, your subs are A N G E R Y

“Damn, Jumin! I’m not a porn star! I make respectable content!”

“Oh really, MC? Really?”

“Let me show you then!”

The video you pulled up was one where you were reviewing an as seen on TV product (the refined feline cat furniture to be exact)

Your cat was laying around your neck

          he likes it ok?!

“MC, who’s that?”

“Oh, that’s Bartholomeow. He’s my cat. But, he sadly passed away a couple months ago.” :(

“He’s very pretty. I think he and Elizabeth would have been good friends.”

“Oh yeah, totally.”

Is actually really impressed with the details of the review

“MC”

“I want you to do my cat commercial instead of Zen”

“Hun he was never gonna do it in the first place” you snicker

Seayoung

Vlogs

Wow, what a better way to stalk you! He knows all your personal info already, let’s just throw in actual life stuff too!

Unfortunately, you didn’t really share a lot of your irl stories, you were reserved and only let your fans see small portions of your life.

“MC! When are you gonna put up another video! I’m bored T_T”

“Surprise”

>:(

“I’m gonna become a better youtuber than you and I’m gonna post TWICE EVERY DAY”

“Oh yeah? Wanna bet?”

“Yeah sure. $50 bucks if i get more followers than you in a month AND post twice everyday”

“Deal. But you can’t hack and cheat.”

It’s on.

Long story short, he gave up after a week

“Pay up, four eyes”

He likes to bother you when you’re filming too

Constantly having to edit him out

“Saeyoung, I thought you wanted a new video!!”

“I do!” he wailed

“Well get out!”

Saeran

Musician/Singer

You sing for the majority of your videos

You’ve recently started doing instrumental covers too

When he was getting info to lure you to Rika’s apartment, he stumbled across your videos

Your voice always calmed him down when he was having an episode or mental breakdown

He likes to sit with you when you record

Makes him sleepy lol

You have tons of instruments and when you were stuck at Rika’s he broke into your old house to deliver™

Along with covers, you also write your own songs

Those are his favorites

All in all he doesn’t watch many videos

V

speedpaints/artist

Two artists get together

You use a lot of his photos to do art studies

You have tutorials, speedpaints, tips, and just art q&a’s

Sometimes he learns from you

You and him sell your artworks at the same place and he had no idea that it was you

Sometimes, during auctions, yours and his are top ranked and have the most bids

Lowkey a compettion btwn you two

Gets the eye surgery to see more of your art

[recentanimenews]

Virtual Crunchyroll Expo TIPS: How to Make the Most of the Weekend

  Crunchyroll recently revealed the full show schedule for Virtual Crunchyroll Expo 2020, which will light up the Internet with a packed lineup over the September 4-6 weekend. Definitely check it out and plan accordingly if you haven’t already! With so much going on over the course of just a few days—some of which is scheduled concurrently—you might be wondering how you’ll be able to experience it all without some serious screen management. 

  Thankfully, we have no shortage of experts involved in the event itself to turn to for some much-needed insider tips. If you find yourself torn between two panels, or trying to figure out when you could possibly fit in a solid hour of chill time at Yuzu’s Cat Café, consider this your strategy guide! 

    Getting the Most Out of V-CRX

  Throughout Virtual Crunchyroll Expo, everything from fan panels to special industry guests, and even concerts, will be available across four different stages: Crunchyroll Stage, Hime Stage, Yuzu Stage, and Sudachi Stage. And that’s just the Theater District! What are you, made of eyeballs? No worries, because V-CRX On Demand is here to save the day. Learn more about V-CRX On Demand and other insider tips to get the most out of the weekend, straight from the pros. 

  Mary Franklin, Head of Events

  At first glance, it might seem daunting that Virtual Crunchyroll Expo has four concurrent livestreams. To help you avoid missing amazing contente we created V-CRX On Demand. Once the show starts, fans can enter V-CRX On Demand through a portal in the Theater District. We’ll open the show with some content already pre-loaded there, then throughout the weekend content will be added after it has played in the streams. Almost all the weekend’s content will be available in V-CRX On Demand. Insider’s Tip: V-CRX On Demand runs 24 hours per day, from 10:00 am Pacific Friday, September 4 until 10:00 am Pacific Monday, September 7.

  While our headline guests and great programming deserve a lot of attention, don’t forget that Virtual Crunchyroll Expo has four districts to explore. One that’s worth extra time is the New Crunchy City Anime Arts District, with a curated selection of anime artists from a number of countries, many of whom ship anywhere. The Super Arcade District features exclusive galleries created just for V-CRX, plus free show giveaways, cosplay backgrounds, and a real live (virtual) kitten adoption café, Yuzu’s Cat Café.

  Adam Sheehan, Director of Events

  With so much programming, I recommend everyone look over the schedule in advance to determine what panels to watch as they premiere, as well as any conflicting panels to note for watching when it is added to V-CRX On Demand later that day. Oh, and don't miss watching Crunchyroll-Hime's Cosplay Cup live on Saturday night! Outside of that, I would encourage everyone to explore around the Virtual Crunchyroll Expo site to see everything there is to offer over the weekend. I'm betting they will find a surprise or two by doing this.

  Stacy Burt, Senior Marketing Manager

  Plan ahead! With so much to see right out of the gate on September 4, you'll want to make sure you're ready to fully enjoy the weekend. This means registering ahead of time and activating your badge before the convention starts (this will allow you to take part in activities like the Onyx Equinox scavenger hunt), planning your streaming schedule (and making room for breaks — I recommend some time in one of our Quiet Rooms for a moment of anime zen), and making a list of artists and exhibitors you want to check back on for show specials.

  Lauren Stevens, Events Manager

  The biggest key is probably planning ahead and checking out the website now. Just like your first time at a new convention, it’s helpful to get the lay of the land, and figure out where the panels, exhibitors, and artists are located. The schedule is packed and instead of long lines waiting for food, I can plan my con menu early, so I don’t miss a beat. Super Arcade is like the home to all extras, and who doesn’t love more stuff at an anime con? I can’t wait to see it all live.

  Ricky Resurreccion, Crunchyroll Expo Events Director

  The amount of V-CRX content and features can be overwhelming. Like being in a theme park for the first time, the best first step is to plan ahead. Once you have familiarized yourself with the schedule, have made plans for which activities and the panels you want to attend, be a power V-CRX attendee by accessing certain items directly. We have provided multiple areas in the site where fans can access direct links to specific activities: Use any of the four buttons of our STAGES to access a panel directly.  Want to watch panels you missed? We have provided two direct access points to the V-CRX On Demand area on the homepage and the site navigation bar. Need to check the schedule? Easy! We have a button in the middle of the homepage or a section in the nav bar for that.   

  Here's another cool tip—Make the companion app work for you. Once the app is released before the show, mark your favorite panel or the artists and exhibitors you wish to check out to your "FAVORITES." This will make it easier to revisit or re-access them!

    Enjoying the Unexpected

  All the planning in the world can’t keep you from missing out on something you didn’t even know you wanted in the first place. Virtual Crunchyroll Expo is a 24-hour experience—and on top of the Theater District there’s the Anime Arts District, Central Shopping District, and Super Arcade to visit—so there’s bound to be something that flies under the radar over the weekend. With that in mind, we turned to our insiders for some advice on catching those hidden gems you might have otherwise missed. 

  Mary Franklin, Head of Events

  There’s so much programming it’s easy to miss hidden gems. One of my personal favorites is a panel from Okitsugu Kado, who practices and teaches the traditional, ancient Japanese art of Mukimono, carving vegetables into decorative characters, dishes, and décor for the dining table. You’ll find Oki-san’s panel on the Yuzu Stage Friday, and then in the V-CRX On Demand section of the show after that.

  Another exclusive V-CRX feature that I’m eager to spend more time with on the show weekend is the V-CRX Gallery Tour Featuring MAPPA. With artwork from series like ZOMBIE LAND SAGA and The God of High School, as well as audio commentary from creators, this will be worth a much closer study than I’ve been able to give it so far!

  Adam Sheehan, Director of Events

  As I mentioned with encouraging exploring around the V-CRX website, there is a lot to enjoy.  I know fans are missing all that free schwag they would get at the Crunchyroll booth and other booths at cons so I would say they should be sure to check out the Virtual Schwag area in the Super Arcade district on the site to help alleviate the need for free stuff!

  Stacy Burt, Senior Marketing Manager

  For any K-pop fans out there, you won't want to miss the panel "K-pop and Anime: When Two Worlds Collide” on Friday, September 4 at 6:00pm PT on the Crunchyroll Stage. I can't give too much away, but there will be a few familiar faces making special appearances. 

For fellow artist alley patreons, the Anime Arts District is a must. Artists from around the world have been setting up their virtual booths (many you can check out now) and will be unveiling show specials during V-CRX. Remember to give artists you shop some love on social! 

  Lauren Stevens, Events Manager

  There’s definitely a lot going on at V-CRX, so it is a good thing it is three days! I’d make sure to check out the Super Arcade between panels. Between the galleries, Quiet Rooms, and Yuzu’s Cat Café, there’s a lot more stuff than just the ‘standard show floor.’ I’ve also been eagerly waiting to try out the Onyx Equinox Scavenger Hunt. Get the V-CRX app ready once it’s live before the show, then find all those codes!

  Ricky Resurreccion, Crunchyroll Expo Events Director

  While the main action happens on the main V-CRX website, play around with some of the cool functionalities of our V-CRX app (coming soon!). Aside from the Onyx Equinox Scavenger Hunt, another awesome app feature is the Crunchy Cam. It's essentially a selfie feature where users choose V-CRX stickers to apply on their photo. I like to keep memorabilia from cons I attend and this is a neat little feature that also serves as a nice souvenir from your V-CRX weekend.

  Locking in the Fun

  Beyond these tips, the only major thing to keep in mind is that you need to register! Doing so is totally free, so sign up on the official Virtual Crunchyroll Expo 2020 website today and start planning your jam-packed September 4-6 weekend. 

  By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com