#beatnik boy

[cochino-devin]

A 51 Merc and a 39 Lincoln pull up at a bar…

[bitter69uk]

“Herbert Huncke was the Jean Genet of the Beat Generation. A homosexual poet-thief, he was once as familiar with Times Square dives and New York prisons as he was later to become with fashionable salons and literary landmarks.”

/ From The Independent’s obituary for Herbert Huncke by James Campbell, 1996 /

“His lifestyle was his art: the drugs, the prostitution, the homelessness, the years spent in jail - it all bled onto the page and created a new kind of poetry. He was the American Genet: a man with one foot firmly in the criminal underworld and one in literature.”

/ From “The man who set the Beats going” by Tony O’Neill, The Guardian, 2007 /

“I never met Huncke. Yet he speaks to me in a voice of gentle desperation and compassionate understanding on the complexity and fragility of the human condition, generously revealing the stamina of his tortured soul …”

/ From the book So Real It Hurts (2015) by Lydia Lunch /

Unlike Lydia Lunch, I did meet literary bad boy and proto-beatnik Herbert Huncke (9 January 1915 - 8 August 1996 – born on this day 109 years ago). Or at least I had a fleeting encounter with him. Like so many twenty-somethings, I went through a Beat literature phase. Huncke (who was on intimate terms with and a primary influence on the likes of William S Burroughs, Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac) gave several readings in London in the early nineties which I worshipfully attended. (I also managed to see Ginsberg). Huncke was a spellbinding raconteur with a worldly-wise WC Fields-style delivery, and so desiccated he suggested an unwrapped, upright ancient Egyptian mummy. After one reading, he autographed my copy of The Evening Sun Turned Crimson (1980). I can pinpoint exactly when because Huncke wrote the date [26 October 1994] above his signature in surprisingly pretty, swirling handwriting. Pictured: photo booth shot of Huncke, Times Square, circa 1940 via Ginsberg Collection.

[beelze-bruh]

Tio Maté and Tia Dolores from The Wild Boys by William S Burroughs

[justlikedylansmrjones]

Johnny on a bus, c. 1963.

[purpleflesh]

camino a casa desde el instituto (♡μ_μ)

[maggiethecatchatterley]

❤️

[good--merits-accumulated]

guess who...!

[sytoran]

⁺‧ ₊ ཐི⋆ ♱ ❝GUILTY AS SIN?❞ ♱ w. maximoff !

pairing ★ older!nun!wanda x masc!fem!reverend!reader

synopsis ★ (based on this ask) a 1950s church au, set somewhere loosely in europe, in which a reverend and a nun serving at a cathedral harbour forbidden feelings for each other, where love intertwines with religion in a sacred romance.

warnings ★ explicit content (minors dni), pwp, reader has a cock, virgin!reader but not for long ;), you have a thing for older women, wanda is a tease, no daddy/mommy kink (sorry, it didn't really fit for wanda), but something else fit inside wanda (wink wink)

word count ★ 3.6k (serving) | main m.list

“The Lord be with you.”

“And with your spirit.”

Wanda stands for the final blessing, eyes shut in devout faithfulness. As the choral voices utter the hauntingly beautiful concluding hymn, she exhales softly, letting the singing resound around each panel of glass in the tall cathedral.

Harmonic minor chords echo from the organ, as the acolytes walk down the aisle. Voices rise in harmony. Little altar boys trip over their feet. The older wardens are grim with wrinkles set into aged skin.

And then there is you.

Illuminated by the tinted light is your set face, cloaked in your black vestments and as regal as ever. Wanda watches under her white veil, poised hands and craned neck. 

Wanda was not oblivious that her want for you was forbidden. A deep sin, for the two of you were devout servers of the church. It went against everything she had been taught since she was a first year at Westview Catholic High, but then again, you were the fount of her desires, and it was as simple as that.

As you walk past her solemnly, Wanda catches your eye. She can see you stiffen under her stare ablaze, swallowing a lump in the back of your throat, and victory glints in Wanda’s lowered gaze.

She had to be patient.

Once the mass proceedings were over, you stood outside the cathedral, all gentle smiles and warm hands. It was no secret that you were a crowd favourite amongst the pent-up housewives of Westview and repressed nuns of the church.

How could they not, after all, with the way your dark garments hugged your stately figure, broad and wide and lined with unspoken strength. You were polite, and respectful, and far too innocent for your own good. 

Wanda stands by the entrance of the church, watching you get swarmed by the ladies like a high school heartthrob. 

It was okay, she was content with waiting.

“Reverend L/N,” A middle-aged lady calls, clutching onto your forearm. You smile kindly at her, recognising Pepper, the suburban mom down at 5th and Street. “Yes, Miss Potts, how was today’s service?”

“Absolutely splendid,” She gushes shamelessly, clasping your hands and stepping in far too close. “Your gospel was so moving.”

The overt affection is cloying to Wanda’s senses, only heightened by her distaste for Pepper’s dress. There was simply no reason why her Beatnik dress had to be so low-cut.

Your other arm is not safe from the clutches of Sister Agatha. She was the most experienced of the nuns and had basically claimed her stake on you since you were assigned to the church. Suddenly, hands caress the dip of your tricep to your bicep.

“Excuse me, Miss Potts,” Agatha says snidely. “Reverend L/N has to get back to her duties, if you’ll allow us.” You swallow at the way her perfume scent overtakes your senses, only magnifying the heat under your robes. 

The mom is evidently put off by this, along with the other ladies of the church, some with babies on their hips and without their husbands.

You, on the other hand, stand awkwardly amongst the crowd of ladies, their eyes feasting upon you like a predator eagle.

Even then, Wanda could see the effect that it had on you, ever the innocent and inexperienced. With a pair of ample assets pressed up against your muscled forearm, and a feminine hand wrapped around your bicep, there was no hiding the flush in your face and the telltale tent in your robes.

“I- I have to go,” you say suddenly. You retract your arms, as if scorned, worry clouding your expression. You make your way through the crowd of women, embarrassed and ashamed, leaving many disappointed women in your wake.

A smile crawls up Wanda’s face as she watches you attempt to retreat back into your office. 

She ducks behind the wall of the corridor. As your hurried footsteps approach, Wanda steps out, as if walking in the opposite direction from you. 

“Oof!” The two of you collide comically (intentionally), as Wanda’s hands fly to your arms for support. She dramatically falls forward into your wide embrace, unnecessarily clumsy — but you don’t know any better, profusely apologising to Wanda.

“Sister Wanda!” You say breathlessly, gripping onto her hips unconsciously, unbeknownst to the effect it had on the older woman. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were just around the corner. Why, I seem to be out of sorts as of late.”

Wanda is more than content to run her gloved hands up your arms, shaking her head dutifully.

“I was looking for you, actually,” she says with a kind smile, noting the way your throat bobs as you hold her by her slim waist, entirely transfixed.

Sister Wanda was beautiful like the night, pale moonlight and soft silk. Dainty fingertips clutch the rosary beads, and you yearned to lift up her white veil to see the ethereality that lay beneath. 

It seemed like an eternity before you snapped out of your trance, stepping back and coughing into your hand. 

Wanda would think you were a fool if you believed she couldn’t see the issue in your pants, filling up quite a lot more space than it normally did. It excited Wanda to no end, as the fabric covering your body shifted across your planes of muscles as you moved back.

“Yes, I- uhm,” you clear your throat distractedly. “What queries did you have, again?”

“Ah,” Wanda says easily, tilting her head in amusement at your innocence. “Regarding mass, of course.”

Your brows furrow, terribly hiding your visible disappointment. Wanda could almost giggle at your dejectedness. It was no matter, that issue of yours would be remedied soon.

“I was wondering if I could visit your office tonight?” Wanda asks innocently.  “I’ve been having these… thoughts, and I would like to share them with someone I trust.”

“Someone you trust,” you echo, folding your arms and feeling your heart rate pick up exponentially at the sentiment that Sister Wanda trusted you. “Of course, Sister. As a preacher and a friend, I would gladly aid you in any troubles.”

“Any?” Wanda asks, and you swear you see a twinkling sparkle of mischief behind that white veil. “I guess only time will tell. Until then, Reverend, goodbye.”

Sister Wanda disappears down the lane of grey concrete, losing you in the corner wall of red brick, leaving you with a lot more to comprehend than just your hummingbird-esque thrumming heart.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི ⋆ ♱ ⋆ ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Ten o’clock strikes the clock tower at the Town Square, a dull and permeating sound that resurfaces you from your listless floating.

You hadn’t been able to focus on anything all day after your interaction with Wanda. Anticipation ate you up from the inside out, affecting the quality of your sermons, although your crowd of admirers never weaned.

There was only one woman you cared for, though.

“Reverend L/N?” A sweet voice asks from beyond the shut door, and you shoot up with vigour that could rival Elvis performing Hound Dog. (You’d seen a clip of it on the television the other day — that young man was a star in the making.)

When you finally manage to fumble open the door handle, all the breath gets stolen from your weeping heart, and you may as well be laying in your casket because it looks like it’s your funeral.

To your utter demise and beseeching joy, Wanda Maximoff stands before you looking like a Renaissance painting handcrafted by Michaelangelo himself. What with her white veil removed to expose the delicacy of her beautiful face you long to caress, and her hair let down to fall in soft curls, and a smile playing on her glossy lips — you’re gone, already, before she even steps inside.

Wanda lets herself in, brushes past you and leaves you dazed in her wake. 

“So, shall we begin with an opening prayer?”

Regretfully, you’re unable to devote your entire concentration upon the given task. You’d say you weren’t totally at fault, though — Wanda looked different today, a good kind of different, one that made you feel lighter than you ever had.

“Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil,” Wanda recites, hands clasped as she looks down. “Amen,” you close off, placing your beaded rosary back into your drawer. 

You look up to see the older woman regarding you with an unreadable expression, the reflection from your dim ceiling light flickering in her viridescent eyes. It lights a fire within you, a desire for something you can’t quite place.

The ticking of your Peter table-clock seems too loud, all of a sudden, and Wanda’s gaze overwhelms your very sentience. You get a premonition, somewhere in the back of your mind, that this scene is going to unfold in a way you wouldn’t be prepared for.

“It’s rather warm in here, isn’t it?” Wanda voices abruptly, breaking the tense silence that had settled above the two of you.

You shoot up too quickly, banging your knee on your desk, then clearing your throat. “Well, it is nearing summer, Sister,” you answer with a strained voice. You can feel Wanda’s eyes on you as you pace the room to switch on the ceiling fan.

When you turn back around after fumbling with the power switch, your jaw slackens at the sight of Wanda. Oh. 

She’s undressing before your very eyes, mumbling something about the irritatingly warm weather your brain doesn’t even begin to process, because you could swear up and down you’d never seen such beauty before.

“Well, I should get into it before the night drags on,” Wanda speaks, her voice a thousand miles away. Hopeless devotion swirls in your wandering gaze, focusing upon the silk black negligee that is revealed from under her robes — you don’t stop to think about the practicality of such clothing, foolish as you are — and the matching black high-rise stockings of hers do you in.

“Reverend L/N?” Sister Wanda asks, snapping you out of your fantastical trance, sending a sharp jolt to your growing member. A toying smile plays on her lips, one you don’t notice out of sheer embarrassment, her tone husking with a velvet lilt.

“Y-yes, Sister,” you say, sitting back down firmly in your seat and wishing you could scare your growing shaft into mellowing down, because you were certain you were already staining your undergarments. “Excuse my, uh, carelessness. Please, continue.”

“I’ve been having these…… thoughts, as of late,” Wanda begins, sitting forward, unhelpfully pronouncing her cleavage. “Sleepless nights, dreams in the morning. Fantasy, but not quite. Yearning would be a more apt description, wouldn’t it, for something that you crave so dearly when you know it’s impossible to attain.”

You’re lost, a little hazy between the lines, caught somewhere between comprehending Wanda’s speech and staring wide-eyed at her chest. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, suddenly breathless, choking under your stifling garments and feeling unbearably warm in the heat of your enclosed office.

Your big hands flex and release, toying with something, anything, to distract you, and the older nun is prone to gazing hungrily. 

“Sex,” Wanda finally states unabashedly, and you choke on stilled air and the scent of old books. 

Sex.

“S-sex?” You ask, heat rushing to your ears, praying that you’d misheard or something of the sort, but at the same time more alive than you’d ever been.

“Yes, Reverend L/N, sex. It’s dirty, and raw, and everything we’ve been taught not to pay heed to,” Wanda begins in a breathless rush of eagerness, and you’re swept along in her unstoppable hurricane, on the brink of something inexplicable.

“But oh, it feels so good, and I crave it more than anything. More than life itself, if that’s even possible, because this desire is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. And, mark my language and bless the Lord above, but Christ — I’ve never yearned for this object of my desires so deeply and intrinsically. Someone, to be specific.”

You listen with a distant look in your eyes, your brainwaves fusing somewhere between “dirty” and “raw”. Still, your heart lurches at the prospect of another competitor for your forbidden love.

“Someone?” you ask, leaning back into your armchair and folding your arms. Your faux composure juxtaposes your thundering heart, as you die in anticipation and perhaps something dirtier.

“Yes,” Wanda simply states. She tilts her head, furrows her brows as if contemplating something. Then she nods, self-assuredly, and before you can get another word out, the older nun seals your fate.

“That someone is you.”

You’d always been a believer, but in that moment your heart transcends the physical boundaries of life before death, and you ascend to heaven and see the pearly gates, before Lucifer strikes you down to an undeniable reality.

“You think of me…… indecently?” You ask, almost a whisper, as if fearful of waiting ears on this cathedral’s dead night.

“Once again, yes. Call me presumptuous, but I believe your rock-solid erection is telling of the mutual lust we share, Reverend.”

You splutter, just now realising your uncooperative dick is nearly at full-mast. 

“But,” you try, licking your lips in an anxious motion that has the older nun intently more aroused. “I’m— I’m not too experienced in that prospect, Sister. Not that I’m declining your request, definitely not, I— I simply fear I’m no good at satiating your needs.”

“You could never disappoint me,” Wanda responds in a sweet tone, and your heart explodes in some unexplored liking for older women’s approval. 

Wanda stands up, and your gaze follows your esteemed temptress. “Besides,” she adds, her voice carrying a lightness you’d never heard before. “Experimenting is half the fun, isn’t it?”

It feels as though no time passes before Wanda is standing before you, a light hand tilting your head up as you become still in your seat, her right thumb tracing the curve of your jaw.

“Well, Sister, I suppose you’re right as always,” you answer breathlessly, a hand going to cup the smooth curve of her waist. 

Each breath feels like rarest air as your eyes flutter shut, waiting patiently for the slow dip of Wanda’s head, as she brings you into a fated, ceremonial sealing of warm lips.

Wanda moves in a controlled manner at first, clearly more experienced than you, methodically moving her lips in a rocking motion as you find your pace.

Gradually, as a simple kiss grows lacking in the face of your burning passion and Wanda’s tentativeness fades away, you deepen the kiss, slanting your mouth against the nun’s, almost like you’d done it a thousand times, like it was meant to be.

Two pairs of lips move in haunting remembrance, cascading like the ebb and flow of a wave, the tide that washes over you in saintly baptism, cloaking you with the gentleness of an angel’s wings.

“Oh,” Wanda murmurs against your lips, a tiny gasp slipping from her mouth as your hands eagerly slide over the curve of her ass, devotional, wanting.

She straddles your waist, comfortably sat in your lap. It takes Herculean self-restraint for you to not to moan at the expanse of soft skin pressed against your robes. 

“You’re certainly eager, aren’t you,” Wanda quips with a satisfied sigh, hands running up and over your arms and torso, certainly soaking in the new closeness that propriety once prevented.

“I am,” you utter dazedly, hands desperately palming at every inch of Wanda you can find, trying to memorise every curve and blemish. This moment, right here, was a sacred happening you’d only fantasised on the dirtiest nights, in some hopeless damnation of your unrequited love.

Requited indeed it was, and you’d never been more receptive to being proved wrong, as Wanda leisurely grinds on the bulge in your robes, controlling your pleasure like the puppeteer of a marionette. 

“Too many clothes,” she groans, as you helplessly begin bucking your hips into the rocking motions of her hips. Your acquiescence comes in the form of the frantic removal of your robes, Wanda nearly ripping off your pants underneath. It leaves you feeling awfully exposed in a tight-fitting white tee and grey boyshorts.

Uneven exhales resound in the space between the two of you, 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whisper, embarrassment tainting the tips of your ears and a flush that races down your neck. 

“How could I not, my sweet,” Wanda answers in a sweet murmur, delicate lips trailing down the column of your neck as she shifts on your lap. “You’re perfect.”

Your eyes flutter shut as Wanda’s hand slips down the band of your boyshorts, pulling out your cock as it springs out of its confinement. It’s big, you know it is, and you watch in anticipation as Wanda’s eyes darken several shades.

“It’s alright?” You ask, albeit tentatively, gripping the base of your cock to stop yourself from climaxing right then and there. “I’ve never— you know.”

“More than alright, darling,” Wanda murmurs with crescented eyelids, tracing the winding vein on the left side, fingertips rubbing at your tip in some sort of wonderment.

The sheer size difference of her pale hand and your thick cock changes your brain on a chemical level, and you think that this is going to be embarrassingly quick.

“Wanda,” you pant into the open air, your voice hoarse and your gaze hungry. Her hand furiously jackhammers up and down the length of your thick shaft, from base to tip, spraying droplets of pre-cum all over the both of you.

You let out an almost-whine as you throw your head back, chasing that warm heat that’d only ever been a part of your most sinful dreams. Wanda must be an expert at this, you think, as her thumb rubs your sensitive tip with each hard thrust of her hand.

“I’m gonna— fuck, oh God,” you gasp, and Wanda quietens you by pulling you into a messy kiss. Tongues envelop one another, and it’s sloppy, and wet, but pleasure is coursing through your bloodstream, ferocious devotion in an excruciatingly fast hurdle to a preordained climax.

“Wanda, you have to stop, or I’m gonna—”

“Isn’t that the whole point, darling? Do it inside.”

Wanda lifts her hips, revealing her wet heat to your starry gaze. It looks like some delicate flower you’d find in a faraway field, except it was something you craved to feel, and suddenly the desire in your stomach is unbearable and you move with frantic urgency.

You groan as your tip brushes against her velvet wetness, finally, collecting trails of slick to make it even more damp than it was prior. Wanda sinks downward with a shaky exhale, and the soft heat that envelops your shaft is the holiest shrine you’d ever chanced upon.

“Wanda,” you say, swallowing, big hands moving to grip at her hips, slowly opening her up with each inch. 

Eventually, the slow pace drives you to the edge of insanity, and you begin your freefall with an abrupt change of heart. All too soon, the atmosphere surrounding the two of you becomes hot, rough, dirty — just like how Wanda explained it, fulfilling the filthiest fantasies of two wandering minds.

“Y/N!” Wanda calls out, panting, locks of hair falling out of place as you roughly manhandle her hips up and down your thick length.

Her delightful moans are heaven to your ears, as your fingers dig into plush skin, a sweetness naught would remove from your reach.

"I'm close," she whines into your ear, the fabric of her negligee clinging to flushed skin, your boyshorts all damp with your bodily fluids.

She slides down and up at a lightning-fast pace, both of you desperately chasing down each other's pleasure. Her pussy constricts your thick shaft in a tight hold, and your hands are none the better, palming at her ass.

"Oh, God," the older nun whines, when you increase the pace in a last-ditch attempt, the sound of bare skin meeting enveloping the room in a heady, aroused mess.

Your eyes find the crucifix across the room just before you tip over that edge one would view in reverence, hurtling downwards like Lucifer with his tainted lips, calling out Wanda's name in a breathless cry—

And there is devotion in your shared sin, breathless cries spilling from tainted lips, where grace is found in a mismatched harmony, and two sinners turn away from repentance.

"Oh!" Wanda cries out, thighs wrapping around your torso, head thrown back in a picture of evangelical reverence.

You think Wanda is the only altar you’d ever need, prayerless faithfulness in devout worship, a lowly pilgrim knelt before a holy shrine. “Fuck,” you breathe, as Wanda collapses above you, soft pants gradually becoming steady again.

“I knew you’d be perfect,” Sister Wanda — no, just Wanda — whispers, still straddling your lap with her palms pressed to the sides of your face in a gentle cradle. “Thank the heavens I found you.”

“What happens next?” You ask. There is a tremble in your voice, a fear of the unknown. There were prying eyes of religious watchers, where critical judgement of the queer community was prevalent in this time, where bravery did not always triumph over prejudice.

“What happens to us?”

Wanda’s lips brush against your forehead, her gentleness lulling you into utopia. “Only God knows, my love,” she whispers back.

It is then that you realise it didn’t matter, anyways, wherever you’d end up, as long as it was with your sacred, sanctimonial love.

so... how was that in all of its religious and horny imagery?? haven't written for wanda in forever omg. can yall spot the ttpd lyrics lol (side note: ttpd has some of the most profound lyrics i’ve ever heard, i can only aspire to achieve that level of literary greatness.) reblog please literally getting down on my knees atp main m.list

[cochino-devin]

Last Monday’s stop at C Boys. With a bad ass 31.

[jbaileyfansite]

Interview with the Los Angeles Times (2024)

“This is where all the cruising happened.”

Jonathan Bailey and I are standing in Pershing Square on a bright, blustery spring afternoon, nearing the end of a homemade queer history tour of downtown L.A.: One Magazine, Cooper Do-Nuts/Nancy Valverde Square, the Dover bathhouse, the Biltmore Hotel and this, the city’s former Central Park, a haven, since before World War I, for “fairies” and “sissy boys,” servicemen on leave and beatniks on the road.

“Is it still happening now?” he asks.

“Probably not as much,” I venture.

“Well, you let me know if it’s happening,” he teases, a mischievous smile lighting up his face.

Bailey understands the uses of the charm offensive. As Sam, the handsome Lothario of Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s delightful pre-”Fleabag” curio, “Crashing”; Anthony, the romantic hero of “Bridgerton’s” second season; and John, the jerk of a protagonist in Mike Bartlett’s love triangle play “Cock,” the English actor, 36, has swaggered up to the precipice of superstardom. With roles in such studio tentpoles as “Wicked” and “Jurassic World” on the horizon, he may just break through. Yet he delivers career-best work in Showtime’s queer melodrama “Fellow Travelers,” as anti-Communist crusader-turned-gay rights activist Tim Laughlin, by leaving behind the self-assured rakes and tapping a new wellspring: soft power.

Tim may be, as Bailey puts it, “an open nerve,” but as it turns out, the devout Catholic and political naïf — who falls for suave State Department operative Hawkins “Hawk” Fuller (Matt Bomer) just as Sen. Joseph McCarthy tries to purge the federal government of LGBTQ people — is formidable indeed.

Stretching from the Lavender Scare to the depths of the AIDS crisis, in scenes of tenderness, cruelty and toe-curling sex, Bailey’s performance communicates that little-spoken truth of relationships: It takes more strength to submit than it does to control. The former demands discipline, courage, trust; the latter requires only force.

“In ‘Bridgerton,’ [Bailey] is like a Hawkins Fuller character — he is very sexy and has lots of power, has that kind of confident charisma that absolutely is not Tim at all,” says “Fellow Travelers” creator Ron Nyswaner.

But any doubt about Bailey’s ability to mesh with Bomer, who boarded the project early in development, was put to bed with the actors’ virtual rehearsal of a meeting on a park bench in the pilot. “‘Well, that’s a first,’” Nyswaner recalls an executive texting him. “I cried in a chemistry read.”

‘Am I inviting people in?’

Bailey grew up in a musical family in the Oxfordshire countryside outside London, and this, coupled with an appreciation for the morning prayers, choir practice and Mass he attended as a scholarship student at the local Catholic school, fed his precocious talents. (“I loved the performance of it,” he laughs. “Not to diminish the celebration of religious process, but I did love the idea of wearing a gown.”) By age 10, he’d appeared in the West End, playing Gavroche in a production of “Les Misérables,” an experience he now recognizes as an encounter with a queer found family — albeit one shadowed by the toll of the AIDS crisis, which peaked in the U.K. in the mid-1990s.

“When I’m asked about my childhood, there’s so much I don’t remember, and I think that’s true of anyone who’s been in fight or flight for 20 years,” he says. “I would have been in a cast of people whose friends would have died in the last seven years. I think of where I was seven years ago. I had all my gay friends then. It’s only retrospectively that I can retrofit a real gay community around me [in the theater], that I just wasn’t aware of [then].”

During the late 1990s and early 2000s, American and British culture presented queer adolescents with a bewildering array of mixed signals. As beloved celebrities came out in growing numbers, and the battle for marriage equality became a central locus of LGBTQ political organizing, the media continued to propagate harmful stereotypes of gay men as miserable, lonely, perverted or worse — and, Bailey remembers, callously turned George Michael, arrested on suspicion of cruising in a Beverly Hills restroom in 1998, and Irish pop star Stephen Gately, who revealed his sexuality in 1999, fearful he was about to be outed, into tabloid spectacles.

No wonder Bailey, like many LGBTQ people of his generation, should feel the “chemical” thrill of “validation and acceptance” during London Pride at age 18, then embark on a two-year relationship with a woman in his 20s.

“Dangerously, if you’re not exposed to people who can show you other examples of happiness, you think that’s the easiest way to live,” Bailey says. “It’s funny. You look back and you can tell the story in one way, which is that I always knew who I was and my sexuality and my identity within that. But obviously at times, it was really tough. I compromised my own happiness, for sure. And compromised other people’s happiness.”

Disclosures about his personal life have become particularly thorny for the actor since the premiere of “Bridgerton,” the blockbuster bodice-ripper from executive producer Shonda Rhimes.

“The Netflix effect does knock you off center completely,” he says, recalling the experience of finding a paparazzo waiting outside his new flat before he’d even moved in. “Suddenly, you do start having nightmares about people climbing in your windows... Even now, talking about it makes me feel like, ‘Am I inviting people in?’”

He is also critical of the media for churning out headlines about the smallest details of celebrities’ private lives, often detached from their original context. In an interview with the London Evening Standard published in December, Bailey described a harrowing encounter in a Washington, D.C., coffee shop in which a man threatened his life for being queer — and, in recounting the experience, offhandedly mentioned the “lovely man” he’d called, shaken, after it happened. Although Bailey acknowledges that the original story handled the subject with aplomb, he felt dismayed that more attention wasn’t paid to the intended warning about rising anti-LGBTQ sentiment: “The only thing that got syndicated from that story was that I had a boyfriend, and it wasn’t true,” he sighs. “It was kind of depressing, if I’m honest.”

Still, Bailey, who once turned down a role in a queer-themed TV series because it would have required him to speed along revelations about his personal life he wasn’t ready to make, is prepared to embrace the power of vulnerability when it feeds the work. Although a member of his inner circle expressed doubts about “Fellow Travelers’” steamy sex scenes, for instance, the actor intuited that they were what made the project worth doing: “I was like, ‘I’m telling you, they are the reason why this is going to be brilliant.’”

‘He’s changed my trajectory in my own life’

To those who would complain about the state of sex in film and TV, “Fellow Travelers” is the perfect riposte. All of it matters, from Tim’s first flirtation with Hawk to the finale’s closing minutes, because the series, at its core, is about the importance of soft power: the strength required to bend, but not break; to adapt, but not abandon oneself; to survive without shrinking to nothing in the process.And depicting that through sex, specifically gay sex, makes “Fellow Travelers” radical indeed.

Bailey understands that baring so much comes with certain risks. When I tell him that research for the story has filled my algorithmic “For You” feed on X (formerly Twitter) with speculation that his onscreen relationship with Bomer has a real-life element, he notes that “shipping” fictional couples and costars alike has long been part of Hollywood fantasy. But he bristles at the implication that he and Bomer are anything but skilled actors at work.

“I would love for people to know that the success of our chemistry isn’t based on us f—. It’s actually about us leaning into the craft,” he says. “It’s a vulnerable situation to be in, talking about it on record. I don’t want to rob people of their thoughts. But I do have a set of values, and as an artist, you don’t need to be f— to tell that love story.”

Underlying that craft, Bailey adds, is the confidence to speak up, as with one scene in “Fellow Travelers” that was adjusted because he said, “I don’t want to be naked today.” He learned to use his voice the hard way: In his early 20s, he recalls, he was once “bullied” on set when “someone was threatened” by him and vowed to himself, “I’m never going to do that to someone. I’m never going to allow that to happen.”

This impulse to direct his influence in support of others has blossomed further with “Fellow Travelers.” On the day of our interview, Bailey enthuses about an upcoming meeting with legendary gay rights activist Cleve Jones and shares his idea for a docuseries recording the stories of elders in the LGBTQ+ community while they are still here to tell them. He describes lying in a hospital bed on set on World AIDS Day, in character as Tim, surrounded by gay men who had lost friends and lovers during the crisis, and finding himself thinking, “What do I want to leave behind?”

“I think he’s changed my trajectory in my own life,” Bailey says.

This is, perhaps, the most common reaction I know to diving deep into queer history — the understanding that we, like our forerunners, are responsible for shaping the queer future, whether in politics, society or art. No one is going to do it on our behalf.

As we stand on the nondescript corner now named for her, I relate the story of the late queer activist Nancy Valverde, who was arrested repeatedly while a barber school student in the 1950s on suspicion of “masquerading” because of her preference for short hair and men’s clothing, and later successfully challenged her harassment by the police in court.

“What a hero!” Bailey exclaims, wondering at Valverde’s bravery. “The thing that’s so interesting with power battles is, ultimately, identity is the thing that gives you the most strength and power in your life, isn’t it?

“Because that’s one thing people can’t take away from you: who you are and how you express yourself.”

Source

[lipstickhotchocolate]

Kind of want to combine my hyperfixations and redesign Stardew bachelorettes and bachelors in various eras of vintage fashion?

If I don’t end up drawing this, here’s my general vision so far just because (yes I am skipping the 30s and 40s because I don’t find them as visually interesting):

20s:

Penny. Her hair reminds me a lot of the pinned up faux bobs that flappers would wear and I think she would look AMAZING in a drop waist and cloche hat.

Krobus. His little trench coat get up gives me sort of 1920s Agatha Christie detective novel vibes.

50s:

Shane, because I think he would look dapper with a kind of Cary Grant and Marlon Brando hybrid inspired look? Like with sharp lines and but because he’s messy his sharp suit is ruffled after a long night.

Abigail. I know this isn’t the obvious choice, but due to my hatred™️ of Pierre and Caroline’s parenting style, Abigail’s story has always felt a bit like her breaking away from tradition, especially for gender wise. As such, I want to draw her in Beatnik style, with a black turtleneck, a beret, slacks, and huge dark glasses.

60s:

Harvey :). His fascination with planes means I absolutely have to draw him in the golden age of travel. I’m thinking a smart suit, kind of more early 1960s, inspired by the fashion in the original Bond films.

Haley. I would probably do a different part of 60s fashion to Harvey for her, more akin to the mid to late sixties Swinging London movement, as inspired by Twiggy and Mary Quant. Boxy mini dress, Gogo boots and a Bridget Bardot-esque bouffant.

70s:

Maru. The 70s were big for jumpsuits and women’s fashion got a lot more practical, which I think works well with her personality. I love Maru and I love flared jeans so 🫠 I also think I would give her big hair (I love her older game designs)

Leah. Leah’s hippie artist vibes work perfectly for the 70s flowery hippie fashion. Please put my girl in a loose fitting prairie dress or some bell sleeves. Her hair would also work with the long natural wavy look of that era.

80s:

Emily. I know her vibes are at a first glance 70s, but the style of her dress and her hair remind me SO MUCH of Winona Ryders wedding dress in beetlejuice? So the gothy fashion of the 80s with big spiky hair and mesh and craftiness remind me of Emily.

Elliot. Once again at a first glance 70s, but I will put this man in a late 70s/early 80s glam rock outfit if it kills me. With the massive hair and the sort of military inspired studded jacket and everything. Hear me out.

Alex: the 80s were probably the start of the jock character, and Alex to me reads like he could literally be a character in the breakfast club to be honest. He must be taken back to his roots.

90s:

Sam. In the 90s skater boy fashion was literally like… the thing, so this is obvious. Give him a baggy ahh flannel , a baggier ahh graphic tee and a baggiest ahh pair of jeans. And some fugly 90s man hair.

Sebastian. Not really a huge redesign, but I’m incapable of not drawing him as like a mall goth / early emo kid (yes I know they’re different but similar style roots).

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

If there’s one thing Casey McQuiston can do is write extra, post-canon, chapters

“God, she's happy. The weather is glorious, people are good, her motorcycle is sexy. It's one of those days when she is just explosively thankful to be alive and in love and gay in New York City.”

“Jane likes Wes a lot. He reminds her of the moody Bushwick boys she used to see at the quieter bars, the ones who only smoked cloves and complained they' d been born a few years too late to be a beatnik. It's the scowl, she thinks, and the air of perpetual malaise. And the mysterious gift for landing the hottest drag queens in the scene.”

“Jane has known she liked girls for a long, long time. Even when she forgot everything else about herself, she remembered English, Cantonese, and being a lesbian. It's never been worth fighting, not for anyone else's sake, but she did sometimes wish things were different. When she watched her dad trudge up the stairs at the end of a long day and into her mom's arms, she'd wished it was posible for her to know that feeling one day, to have a good woman waiting at home.

August is a good woman.”

“She'd always felt happiest and most loved when she was part of something bigger,”

“That night was the first time she ever slept with a woman. She remembers how revelatory it felt, like searching for a word in one language and realizing it only exists in another. Like her whole life she’d had this perfect thing inside her, this thing that had an exact purpose, that would make sense of everything, and she'd been looking for it wrong until that moment.

She wrote: I was on top of her, figuring out how many ways I could make her feel good, and I thought, "I like girls," which is pretty fucking far from groundbreaking for me, but my next thought was, "I love liking girls," and that was a thought i've never had before. I might have fallen a little bit in love with Ann then, the way I think you should fall in love with your first for at least one night. But I completely and permanently fell in love with the way it feels to make love to a woman.”

“The broader she tries to go, the less it's going to feel true. All these small, specific moments, this patchwork of a million faces and voices and hands and street corners and plates of food and songs and fleeting connections—she keeps trying to zoom out of them, but that's where she loses the details. Love is the meal, and love is the ingredients, and love is the whisk and the fire and the order in the window and the reason it came. She can't separate any part from the whole.”

“Life in the future isn't perfect by a longshot, especially not for people like her. There's so much that's still wrong with the world and so many reasons to look over her shoulder every time she walks down the street. But tonight, she's thankful for this. The scrabble forward, the good changes, and always, even now, a basement full of people who'll take her as she came.”

“But the longer she knew August, the longer she loved her, the more she understoad why those girls could never have been for her. Every one of them had only a piece of what she was looking for. A surly disposition here, a pair of glasses there—every girl she’d ever loved for a night or a week or a month had a shadow of August in her.”

“I was standing on a street that felt like home, she wrote, but I didn't have to hide my haircut or change my clothes to save my family from the gossip. It didn’t even matter if any of those aunties had something to say about me. Mom would never know. I loved it.”

“She wants to have the right words, the right attitude, the right gravity to be worthy of what people see in her, but some days she just wants to pick a stupid fight in the grocery store, and some days she wants to do nothing but learn to make a chocolate tart. She's only ever been one person doing what she had to do to survive. Just Biyu, just Jane.”

“Before the Q, Jane never thought she'd be part of any institution recognized by the state, least of all a wedding. Sure, she attended commitment ceremonies in basements and backyards, manned the patio grill while two boys from down the street slow danced under a magnolia tree and the washed-up hippie officiant burned incense to bless their union. Every time, the experience sang hot and sweet in her veins for days after, the way defiant acts of love between her friends always did. But every time, something told her this would never be hers. Probably, she figured, because she never allowed herself to stay with the same girl for more than a month.”

"You started saving for a ring—?"

"Right after I moved in, yeah.”

"If you ask Myla to explain electrical energy." Jane says, winking at the gleam that appears in Myla's eye, "the first thing she'll tell you is that it can't be created or destroyed. Love is like that too. It can be reshaped a million different ways. It can be as big and as impossible to understand as the universe, and it can be as simple as sitting on the other end of the same telephone line, not even saying anything. But in my experience, it'll never be small, and it'll never be short, and it sure as hell won't ever leave you. All it does is find a new place inside you to live, or a new channel to broadcast out of you. It carries you out when the house is falling down. It's the reason why anything good happens, and it's all those good things put together, the picture they make when you step back and really look. Love makes sense of everything. Love makes you real.”

[headgehug]

beat generation dash simulator

📝 windblownworld

I need to run away and live on a mountain fr

#jack.txt #my buddy gary @ dharmabum has a good gig lined up for me next summer. #feels like forever away #fuck my life

( 1 note )

❕️This post has been flagged for the following community warnings: mature

📚 starvinghystericalnaked

okay, you know what, fuck you. fuck. you. there's nothing "obscene" about my poem. in fact the bible is more "obscene" than this. maybe if you had the guts to read it you'd understand that YOU are the problem. WE are the movement WE are the people WE are the answer.

🔁 🐒 oldbulllee14

Allen, I completely agree with you. Customs officials are a load of cock-sucking bastards. Next time you are in town, come over. I just got back from Mexico if you know what I mean.

🔁 📚 starvinghystericalnaked

say less 👀🍃

#like for real say less LMFAO if the feds are on tumblr we are so fucked

( 30 notes )

🚗 coloradocarjacker-deactivated04011948

"Well it's about time you wrote, I was fearing you farted out on top that mean mountain or slid under while pissing in Pismo, beach of flowers, food and foolishness, but I knew rhe fear was ill-founded for balancing it in my thoughts of you, much stronger and valid if you weren't dead, was a realization of the experiences you would be having sown there, rail, home, and the most important, climate, by a remembrance of...

read more

🔁📝 windblown world

needed this right now. missing you, brother.

#does anyone know if neal remade or is he just gone? #did he say anything to anyone? he told me he was just remaking

( 2,396 notes )

🎶 bopaholicedie Follow

happy 1 year anniversary of the official annulment of my marriage

#if you're reading this jack go to hell. I wish you'd rotted to death in jail with that m*rderer #after all these years and not even a fucking thank you

( 2 notes )

📝 windblownworld

logging off indefinitely. my editor needs a draft of my book by the new year and I already blew my advance so there's no way I can ask for an extension. if you see me online tell me to fuck off

#mutuals can still send letters

Pinned post

( 0 notes )

❤️‍🔥 lucienspress

feeling blessed for all of my good friends today. real ones know — rip d.k. '44 — keep the hustlers and parasites at arms length, we'll get through this!

#this one goes out to you jack! 🙌 hit me up sometime

( 74 notes )

🛤 railmanmoriarty Follow

what's up motherfuckers! remade from @coloradocarjacker

🔁 📝 windblownworld

neal? holy shit. is that you? are you busy tonight?

🔁 🛤 railmanmoriarty Follow

kerouac my boy my lad my good man for you I am never busy I have to just drop carolyn off at the motel and procure a fine feast dinner for her and the kids and then maybe an hour two just setting around making sure she's and they're alright and then if you pick me up at 10 no I better say 10:45 not a minute later than ten forty five pm jack I will be fired up and ready to go out with you

( 4 notes )

📝 windblownworld

SAL AND DEAN ON THE PROWL TONIGHT JUST LIKE THE OLD DAYS!!! if you want to party with the OGs first rounds on me.

#NYC beat scene #jack.txt

( 12 notes )

❤️‍🔥 lucienspress

"Make 'em laugh, make 'em cry, make 'em horny."

#quotes #beatnik #beat literature #deep #counterculture #new york city #on the road core #kerouaquette #writer #writing advice

( 500 notes )

[grigori77]

Critical Role, Campaign 3 Episode 96

Ah, I see, so THIS is why Liam looks like a cute beatnik from a 50s jazz club ... oh boy ... he's brought back the German accent BIG TIME and it's giving me massive Caleb vibes ... meanwhile Tal's clearly having EVEN MORE fun with this ... oh my gods ... wow ... that's a DOOZY, definitely ...

Marisha (cracking up): "It sounded like there was more!" Travis: "I know!"

So ... yeah ... it was all SO HEAVY when we ended it last week ... the group is WELL on the way to imploding under the weight of what just happened in the night ... can they come back from this? This is SO WORRYING ...

Oh boy ... RIGHT BACK where we were at the end ... wow ... so it's just the two of them again ... O.O

Fuck ... now even LAUDNA can feel Delilah's starting to take over ... that's not good at all ...

This is starting to sound SO MUCH like Laudna knows she's not going to be around when this is all done ... oh man ... AND she's starting to think maybe that's A GOOD THING? Fuck ... no, really, NO ...

Imogen's trying SO HARD to keep this all together for BOTH OF THEM but I can feel her breaking too ...

Come on, Imogen, that's it, bring her back from the brink ... LISTEN TO HER, Laudna. She's the best thing in your life, and she feels the same way about you, luv. You need to buck up ...

Imogen: "I'm gonna miss our little cottage." Oh fuck ...

Ah shit ... the tissues ... yeah, that's how it is with ALL OF US right now ...

Crap ... that's right, Dorian's missed A WHOLE LOT, he doesn't KNOW about Delilah, not really ... oh, and also about IMODNA ... XD ... AND Chetney's threesome with Fearne and his ex ...

Oh yeah ... Bordor ... that was a whole bunch of wrong ... that took a whole lot out of ALL OF 'em ...

Ashton being all philosphical again abdout villains trying NOT TO BE ... yeah ... he's pretty spot on ...

Dorian: "CAN she be trusted?" Oof ...

Ashton: "You okay?" Imogen: "No." Ahston: "SHE okay?" Imogen: "No." Ahston: "Okay."

Laudna's just been having a good powerful MOPE while all of this has been going on ... yeah, of course she has ... oh FUCK OFF, Delilah. You're not welcome right now ... oh yeah, Fearne, great timing, snap her out of it!

Orym: "Are you all right? I didn't hurt you too terribly did I?" Laudna: "Oh, I think I can see a few ribs ..."

Yes ... please, come on you too, make up. You're FRIENDS, you mean so much to each other. MAKE UP. Yeah. That's it. Exactly that.

Yeah, exactly. Fuck Delilah, we just want our LAUDNA.

This is exactly it, yeah ... she's not alone, they're ALL carrying their own big mistake baggage, she's not alone in that ...

Awwwww ... Ashton's BIG SISTER Laudna ... I love it ... :3

Wow ... yeah, it may be a joke, but Chetney DOES have a point there ... Dorian's the one true innocent in the group now ... you poor sweet summer chaild ...

Nice move, Chet. Yeah, that works.

Oh, that's interesting ... yeah ... that pipe ... yeah ... that could be REALLY GOOD for Laudna right now ... go on, girl, take a puff ...don't be afraid, this can only HELP ...

And then Dorian comes in with the sweetest cap for all that ... awwww ... :3

AAAAAAND just like that Chetney's OUT. XD ... of course he is.

Spin the bottle? REALLY?!!! LOL ...

Wow ... not they're just getting ridiculous ... XD ... "Hammer time?" Yeah, that's the worst one yet ... "Chetney needs sleep"? Slightly better, maybe ...

More rest, at least ... which is needed ...

Liam'#s giving Orym a point of exhaustion for NECESSITIES ... of course he is ... wee selfless lad ... we love him but he does punish himself sometimes ...

THAT'S what the Gambler's Blade does? DORIAN!!! O.O

Essek is a bit ... MOODY this morning ... hmmmm ...

"I like pulp!" XD

Ah, so everything's ready for them ,then? Sweet ... cue gearing up montage ... LOL ... oh, and descriptions too ...

Hot Shots: Part Deux for Chetney ... XD

Oh shit ... that's right ... they're back from the Moon ... IS Orym a little different? And our boy's a bit toussled now ... yeah, that's CUTE, I'm sure ...

Imogen's wearing PANTS now? Okay ...

Dorian's wearing "THE SLUTTIEST SHIRT"! Cute ...

Nipple talk ... oh dear ... XD

Oh wow ... Laudna's kind of giving me some subtle Harrow the Ninth vibes right now ...with a touch of DELILAH too, which is ... worrying, just a little ... O.O

Ashley's alwasy SO GOOD at weaving a beautiful picture, she really is ... and a utility belt. Yeah ... :3

Ashton's rocking a CROPTOP right now? Awwwwww ... and a spike trade with Fearne, too ... cute ... ooooooh ... and "Smiley Day" ... oh man ... I love it ...

Matt makes a rather pointed "prepare your spells" statement that everybody IMMEDIATELY takes as SUSPICIOUS and I'm right along with them. What are you planning, Mercer?

Yeah ... that fucking bloody apron's just gonna leave a trail behind them THE WHOLE WAY ...

Divvying up stuff ... here we go, ten minutes of inventory bookkeeping while we wait for the game itself to start up again ... XD

Ah ... sucking up one Ring of Protection with the harness ... hmmm ...

Imogen's jealous of Essek's floating thing ... not surprising ...

Ooooh ... ExU: Calamity recap ... cute ...

A FEW tries? Oh, I don't like the sound of that ...

Wow ... they're all REALLY crossing their fingers ... XD

Rolling a D100? Oh fuck ... 14? Hmmmmm ... ouch ... oh, that didn't go well ... they went NOWHERE and took 11 points of Force damage each ... bugger ...

Second try ... ANOTHER roll ... 45? Okay ... SEEMS like the right place ... an abandoned encampment? Interesting ... oh, sounds like it's NOT where they should be, then ...

Lyrengorm? Where?

He can only do it ONCE MORE for the day? Bollocks ...

A final roll ... 61 ... MORE snow ... much colder ... Orym's ENTIRELY BURIED ... a particularly AGGRESSIVE mountain range this time ... some kind of VERY fancy castle ... oh, so we ARE in Eisselcross ... but we're not sure WHERE ... oof ...

Crap ... they've been spotted ... by SOMEBODY ... big lumbering somebodies ...

Undead ice giants? Yeesh ... yeah, better hide ... argh ...

Matt: "There's a reason you took a BOAT to Esselcross last time!"

And now it's time for a break ...

Do they run? Do they fly? WHAT DO THEY DO?!!! Hiding's obviously out of the question ... eep ...

A DISTANT Command on one of them? Risky, Imogen ... "HALT!!!" Oh, it doesn't work on undead? BALLS ...

And now one of them flung a rock ... BAIT & SWITCH!!! Nice save, Orym! Crunch ... STILL 26 points of damage ... ow ...

There's a whole BUNCH of 'em coming now ... AAAAAAAH!!!

Essek's trying a HIGHER level Teleport ... okay ... one more roll ... 48? Oh bollocks, Laura! This is so bad ...

DO NOT give Mercer ideas, Ashley! O.O

More snow ... elsewhere ... hmmmm ... Essek has no idea where they are ... great ...

Yes. Sniff the wind, Chetney ... the air is THINNER ... oh, they're AT ALTITUDE right now ... cute ... on a mountain, then ... that's just PEACHY ...

Oh, if they had something FROM Aeor? I mean THEY COULD just use a piece of FCG ...

Looking into Essek's memories, then ... O.O ... and a glimpse of Aeor ... it's all VERY dramatic ...

Aha, a specific anchoring point ... good idea ...

Laura: "Guidance? Will that help?" Matt: "No, but it's nice to have." XD

So, the Staff ... oh boy ... this could go SO BAD .... she rolls 99 for it ... well, that's ... potentially good?

A frozen woodland glade ... Huh?

Don't shoot the rabbits with your harp, Chetney. They'll only explode and that's not what ANYONE wants ...

An amber coloured dome of energy over them? Oh, yeah, that definitely rings a bell ... XD

At least it's nice and warm in here ... although they are in danger of getting buried under the snow before morning ...

Essek's just IMMEDIATELY going to sleep, then ...

Fearne, you're adorable ... :3

Chetney's going hunting. WITH THE HARP. Oh boy ...

And he shoots a boar? Oh, okay, I suppose that's too big to just blow up ... food!

There's a huge city out there? Hmmmm ... no chance that's Vasselheim, maybe?

Time for food, then ...

Another try at Teleporting, then ... roll AGAIN ... 53? Fuck ...

They land ON THE SLOPE of a mountain ... AAAAAAAAAHHH!!!

Another jump ... another roll ... 46? No, NINETY-six ... somewhere icy and cold ... oh, that's it, then. They made it ... phew ...

Yup, they're here. On the VERY EDGE of the ruins, then ...

Time for Stealth, then ... group check time ... oh boy ... fucking hell, Travis ... 41?!!! How the FUCK did you do THAT?!!!

Shit ... are those more of theose undead ice giants? Oh no ... gods, bo what to know WHAT these things are ... eep ... O.O

Going down into the gloomy underground darkness ...

ICE TROLLS?!!! Lovely ... yeah, just GO QUIETLY, please ...

It's getting STUPID tight in here ... this is NOT GOOD ... Chetney's going ahead to check the route ...

Oh, that's a DROP. Great ... now what?

So they have to climb down with the rope ... great ... oh, Chet wonders if he could ICE-CLIMB down? I really don't know about that ... oh, the Immovable Rod, that shoudl be helpful ...

Yeah, this couldn't possibly go wrong ... O.O

A ruined courtyard? Fascinating ... smelling for anything alive down here ... a clean must? Strange ...

So he's climbing down, then ... okay ... the others getting down will be ... INTERESTING ...

Oh yeah, some light might be helpful now ...

Bones? Frozen into the ice underfoot? Hmmm ... that could be ... problematic ... and some bodies too ... oh lovely ... there's SOMETHING unpleasant down here, clearly ...

Wait ... WHO is this? Oh ... FUCK ... shit! Oh, that is SWEET!!! Nice callback ... O.O

So, going EAST then ...

The Praesidis Ward? Hmmm ...

A giant cavern that was once a city ... weird ...

It's getting WARMER? Hmmm ...

Fearne has a point ... this DOES look like that weird ruined city in the cavern on Ruidus ...

Wait ... there's SCARY things down here to be on the lookout for? Way to bury the lead there, Essek ...

Yeah, DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING, people ...

He became a FISH. Really? Fascinating ...

Another Group Stealth check ... generally good rolls once more ...

Skeletons? Lots of them? Great ... this place is like a necromancer's wet dream ... I really hope this isn't where Mercer's heading with this ...

Grim Psychometry? IN HERE?!!! Whoa, Chet ...

That is ... troubling and not terribly infomrative, really ...

Crap ... was that a troll?

Moving on, then ...

Weird creepy corpse ... which wasn't there LAST TIME Essek passed through ... charming ... it IS moving, but, like, RIDICULOUSLY slow? Oh, that's unnerving ...

Imogen, AGAIN, don't touch ...

Oh, this seems like a nice, fancy place ... but Essek's not taking any chances with it, clearly ... and somebody's been through here, too ... hmmm ...

HE did this? Interesting ... well, at least he hasn't lost his sense of humour ...

Another cavern ... more industrial environs this time ... fascinating ... and it's curving UPWARDS as it goes ...

The Genesis Ward ...

It just smells of metal and water ... okay ...

So we have a specific destination now, then ...

What, try to home in on Ludinus' Harness? Could that work?

Oh, so there really ARE other things moving around in here besides the group ... that's disconcerting ...

A tent? Really? Well THAT is a pretty major sign of life ... I think they may have found what they're looking for ...

Arcane Eye? Cool ...

Oh, so something happened here ... something VIOLENT, according to the blood ... and CORPSES ... Ruby Vanguard? Oh wow ... THAT'S interesting ... this was ... relatively recent, looks like ...

More of an eagele's eye view of the cavern now ... a big jagged hole in the floor, off in the distance ... great ...

Heading in to take a look at the tent, then ...

So the deaths happened within a space of DAYS, then ... it looks like they all killed EACH OTHER?!!! O.O ... whoever did this was ENJOYING themselves? Charming ... and one of them killed HIMSELF ... and apparently was very HAPPY when he did it ... that's just LOVELY ...

It's a pretty nondescript knife, Imogen ...

Grim Psychometry again, then ... oh boy ...

Oh, so the elf was the one who killed them all ... really violently, with SIGNIFICANT manic strength ... carves soemthing into his chest ... and then kills himself too ... wow ...

Chetney DRAMATICALLY unveils the elf's chest ... a sigil ... what is it, then? Ask Essek ... he doesn;t recognise it ... Laudna casts Eyes of the Rune Keeper ... no joy, it seems ... hmmmmm ...

Oh ... Laudna asks DELILAH if she recognises it ... great ... she doesn't either ... great ...

Don't take a pee on the arcane time dome, Orym ...

Something's grinding out there ... stone on stone ...

A group stelth check, but grading everyone individually as they hide? Oh boy ...

Two groups, then ... roill well, guys ...

It's VERY TALL ... oh boy ... that is DISTURBING ... that's like ... it's a hood, but it DOESN'T actually have a head? Ye gods ... and it has a VERY BIG HAMMER it's gragging behind it ... and there's LOTS of teeth in a maw in its belly ... well THAT noise was just unsettling, Matthew ...

Fuck ... a whole bunch of creepy translucent scorpion-like creatures seem to crawl OUT OF IT ... charming ... and they're searching the area ...

Laudna just gave herself away ... and they're all going RIGHT FOR HER now ... oh fuck ...

And THIS is where Matt chooses to end it ... but not before he gives us a look at the Battlemap for next session ... and it's MASSIVE ...

Oh, this is gonna be a SCARY encounter to start things off next time ... But it's the end of the month, so that's gonna be a FORTNIGHT'S wait ...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!

[technovillain]

Give me the rundown on your dudes in as much or as little detail as you like

I put up the OC asks thing the other day and then just went ham on updating my references and toyhouse instead whoops!!

Basic rundown of all my psynauts ocs for u <3

FIRST IS THESE THREE:

they're my characters that aren't directly related to any of the canon characters . jameela's an intern a few years after the events of pn2, gusty is a whispering rock camper and also temporarily lives at the motherlobe, veranda is an agent who works with them both in their collective story.

jameela is the highly intelligent daughter of tech guru dallas delmarro. she has incredible inventing skills that are aided by her psychic abilities, namely her precognition. her precognition is both a blessing and a curse, especially when she keeps seeing horrible apocalyptic doom scenarios.

gusty is a rowdy ragamuffin who accidentally gave his entire town brain damage when he found out he could abuse the psychic power of confusion to do whatever he wanted. he was mostly unaware of the repercussions of his actions. after making his own living situation unsafe, he was taken in to the psychonauts, becoming one of the "motherlobe kids" while his town was put under observation and check-ins.

veranda is a 30-something new zealand immigrant who loves cowboys and the wild west. they feel like they've been running from their problems for years now. they had a fear of growing up when they were little and accidentally time-bubbled some of their child relatives as a teenager. ever since they've been afraid of making the wrong decisions AND of being around children.

NEXT is my Oleander family members

midge is oleander's mother. she's got a potent sad energy and mostly keeps to herself.

eagle is an all-american boy scout who makes his mother proud.

rock is the oldest brother who eventually works in the butcher shop with his father. both rock and eagle bully morry when he's little (well, a little kid....)

NEXT is the Zanotto family members

laurel is bob's older sister and truman's mother. she was an artsy jack of all trades, she was a beatnik and avid music-festival-goer in her younger years

jonny is truman's father, laurel's short-term psychic boyfriend who disappeared under mysterious circumstances (he was doomed)

delphine is truman's ex-wife and lili's mother. she has a big fancy corporate banking job. despite being a total workaholic she calls lili on the phone every single night <3

AND THE OTHER ONES!

ophelia was a distant relative of houston thorney who lived at thorney towers when loboto was a patient. she is the mother of his mentioned child (who is bobby zilch in my hc) and she also died because of a longstanding "family curse"

lester was a character i made for an oleander fic that's in progress. he was originally just going to be in the beginning chapter as a kid but i also decided on a way to bring him back as an adult. maybeeee someday i will write that part of the story too ^__^

nostradamus is my least developed oc, he's more of just a brain concept and a character design.... one of these days i will find a way to tie him properly into the universe.

thank u 4 ur time <3

[footprint-in-the-snow]

I actually desperately want someone to explain every reference in the SATVB art please <3

okay so i havent figured out Everything but this is most of what i can gather. sorry there arent links to specific references im not supposed to be doing this i need to be packing for uni 😭 but this is everything off the top of my head !

starting from the left wall theres the peep show poster which matty has said to be his favourite show in a reddit comment, idk what the streets poster is a reference to, the ghost on an island is an antichrist reference 'theres a ghost on this island' and then the petrol can is an its not living reference as 'danny works in a petrol station'

so the back wall obviously the cancelled banner for lols, 4 days since last incident as a general meme reference?, do not use emergency only is likely a reference to mattys abstinence from social media and being a bit OTG, flushed away poster is obvious, the fake matty quote which he never said and was on the problematic, oasis poster as they need to stop marding and get back together!!! from Q with Tom Powell and various other Oasis call outs, Maroon 5 as problemattic beef, Newcastle United as duh, Frozen as he referenced liking frozen in a couple 2014 interviews particularly the moshcam (?) one, idk about the IDs and then the box from the philharmonic orchestra album, the icon from the mind shower detox thing they did for notes which was a 3d tour thing that's still up and then the height chart as matty is short <3 and the good boy points which i dont know what it is referring to specifically but i think its funny

now the window/right wall has la poesie est dans la rue is etched into the tree and is an easter egg in quite a few music videos and is a reference to love it if we made it, the minion i assume is a reference to the deuxmoi thing of matty sending minion memes to a girl, and then a camera i assume is a general comment on the lack of privacy you get as a celebrity and 'house with just three walls' etc

the couch and table has matty smoking and chained to the couch as a reference to the consumption bit and could be reference to the idea that he is stuck in a position of his own doing, hann is a wizard i presume as a hobbit reference? and then the dubai and malaysia flags as he got banned,oxygen tank from consumption, cross due to the religious signposting on his ig story and a juxtaposition to his atheism, thesaurus for those big words, infinite jest as its referenced in sincerity is scary, wine, cigarettes, xanax as a reference to 'Xanax and a newport' in part of the band, i live cum mug from the problemattic, american flag as a lot of their music is informed by Americana especially on notes(? maybe also just because america)

then on the floor here theres the coke bottles as matty cannot be seen without one, the piss/apple juice from when he was spotted with gabbriette, the fox i saw on twitter means temptation so could be a very subtle hint towards temptation from porn and the right and so on, raw meat from consumption and its being 'swept under the rug' so could be a metaphor for matty being problematic and it being glossed over by him, hairdye as there was twitter rumour he dyed his grays and matty has previously said he would not, flame and wok box as the boys used to work there, typewriter from the typed up letters he used to do but u dont know what 'im not a beatnik im a catholic' is a reference to, true romance is one of mattys favourites and was a key inspiration for the robbers video

i have no clue what this is other than human blunt? and seeds and beans? as a gyat reference? help?

this corner has the married computer so man who married a robot, lotion and tissues for activities, cow with glassjaw hoodie as a nod to when we are together and also the nme interview where he mentions that hoodie as the one he put on at 13 and took off at 19 if im correct, grass block from satvb promo, tent could be a nod to reading and leeds? then skeleton with the lab coat i dont know exactly but i think it could be another problemattic reference with me on the brain, and then 2013 george with his blue gatorade as in most gigs you can see his blue gatorade with its own stand!! (though i watched trsmnt the other day and it was orange) and he is producing i think it could have been drawn from a photo but i cba to find it

and last but not least, ross!!! who is also jesus as there were lots of memes surrounding him looking like jesus or being a personal jesus and so on, also could be to do with the problemattic post of ricky gervais on the cross for being an atheist, penguin!! because ross likes penguins, bees are a manchester symbol, beer, robber with the iconic 2014 shirt, greggs sausage roll i presume from when one got thrown onstage but also the twitter meme of 'i saw matty crying in x greggs' and then i think the last on is a mortal kombat character and nearly forgot but ross also has a lamp as he turned off the lamps at the end of when we are together during atvb on stage