#sese.tag

[saintsesce]

thinking about evan rosier with an amputation kink in the way his brain just sees an interruption in the human form or a deviance in body parts one expects to exist & the incompleteness ignites a certain sexual impulse within him that he, ever in his cogent mind, could not make of rational sense but that it simply is. meanwhile barty crouch jr who forever craves and fantasizes losing a healthy limb to serve his own mental body representations as he could only ever feel fully his self in destroying a part of him; a factoid he relays with all the sense a seemingly cohesive mind can.

[saintsesce]

i love the part when the emo boyhood coming of age kpop group discovers gay sex and religious imagery (the killa 'i belong to you' by txt)

[saintsesce]

pandora rosier who steals her twin evan's credentials when he's off to work to tell and show people that hey, don't worry; i'm a self-taught heart surgeon, see? before she performs extreme medical malpractice on her subject of the day (barty runs the clinic for pandora like a drill sergeant btw but really he's also just in it for the drugs and to see blood)

[saintsesce]

there is genuinely something so gut-wrenching in how lovers in art are depicted as an enmeshing of some sort, wherein bodies are conjoined and pulled together so neatly and thoroughly the only barrier remains is the actual physical concatenation of flesh and bones. but even then they still try; they still entangle themselves as though the barrier is only ever an open, gaping wound they can knit themselves over and over again. the 'i am you & you are me & i will continue to force ourselves together until we are one' & the greek mythos of 'having been born as one entity forced to exist apart' conceptualized in such a raw and tender vigor to a point that the body, whether one's own or another, is depicted as a mere object an individual is cathected to. will dissolve into. will homogenize with. while love is argued metaphysically it will and can be concretized by a kiss; a tangle of limbs; a hand hold; a light-feather touch. & still, in this case, this is not enough--as love, furthermore, is monstrous in its hunger, is desperate in its want, is violent in its need--henceforth the longing becomes sinister until all that's left is a coalesced, form of mass. & still there is love.

my most favorite depictions of this:

it's sort of rough in their grasps, yet the innate tenderness emphasizes the craving, in pulling together each others head and limbs inwards one another. they're in one piece. ang kiukok's works are my absolute favorite.

and nicoletta caravia's more somber but softer works, that the need to be one, the need to be together beyond each other is captured in a gentle, but tight embrace.

"The Lovers" by Ang Kiukok (1985) // "The Lovers" by Ang Kiukok (1975) // "Lovers" by Nicoletta Tomas Caravia (2000-2004)

[saintsesce]

well u see i know all of my problems would be cured if i just go outside and legitimately touch grass but i simply can't because then all that bitterness and rot i've been building up to would be all for naught